The Quiet Eye

That night in bed he knew of death.  It came as does a dream.  Stood him at a kitchen sink in an old gray two-room house.  An intense darkness filled the house and the streets and other houses.  He could not see any part of his body, as if only his mind were there in that blackness.  Dangerous, even being in a house in this total darkness, he thought.

He heard the door to the living room behind him creak, as if it opened an inch or two.  He tensed, holding his breath, wanted to look behind him, but was afraid of what might be there in the darkness.  The door creaked again, as if opening another inch or two.  He couldn' just stand there and allow something or somebody to grab him.  He jerked around, seeing half of his face with its eye staring at him from behind the door.  Startled and scared and at the same time he fell to the floor on his hands and knees.  How could he see such a sight or anything in that total darkness?  Why was half his face staring around the door at him?  Didn' he already know that he had eyes, arms, legs?  He used them constantly, day and night.  Never thought about them unless they hurt or something . . . THANKSGIVING!