Imagine

Behind The Art

The man and his wife stopped at my exhibit. They must have been late seventies, early eighties. He was obviously feeble, walking very slowly, intermittently breathing oxygen from a tank mounted on a small trolley he pushed. She followed him closely. He was frail, but peaceful. She seemed to have the weight of the world on her shoulders. He read the “Imagine”. 

“Those words sure take on more meaning when you’re getting close to the end”, he said calmly. The expression on his wife’s face remained unchanged. He started to leave, but then turned back. “That reminds me, I had a dream. Oh, It must have been about two weeks ago. I’m in the den at our house, which is fairly dark, but it opens onto the kitchen, which has plenty of light, especially in the morning, since it has a big picture window and faces east. Well, in this dream all that happens is that I’m walking out of the dark den into the bright light of the kitchen. Then I hear this voice.” Here he stopped and said “I know this is going to sound weird, but I knew it was God’s voice, and all He said was, ‘It’s as simple as that, Frank.’”

—Michael