The man opened his eyes and looked around.
"So," he said to himself. "This is heaven." Quite unexpectedly, Bach was playing in the background.
Someone laughed behind him, and he turned around. A black-haired woman, fashionably dressed, stood in front of him. "Not quite. You've been - how shall I put this - detained."
"By who?"
"Err. Well." The woman looked embarassed, then plunged ahead. "By us. We just wanted to say goodbye..."
"Who are you? I've never even seen you!"
"Yes, you have...I know you have." She smiled like the Mona Lisa. "Anyway, I just wanted to thank you."
"Me?"
She nodded. "I've become a well-respected psychiatrist, because of you."
"Well..." he was pleased, though confused.
She disappeared, and another took her place.
"Where - "
"Oh, her? She said what she wanted to say, then left. She's always been like that. You should know." The comment from the man tucking a worn blue blanket around his infant son was a simple statement of fact, with no malice. He smiled down at the baby, who grasped a corner of the blanket in one hand and gummed the tiny thumb of the other hand. Then, the man turned. "Thanks."
"For what?"
Just before the man disappeared, his wife - a radiant blond-haired woman, her eyes full of love - walked into the room, murmured something which made them both laugh, and kissed the man on the cheek. They held each other tightly.
An echo returned to him: "For this."
The Bach got louder as the next man walked into the room. He was getting used to this - whatever it was - by now.
"Hey," he said. "You're the one playing the music? That's beautiful!"
The artistic-looking man nodded, pleased. "I won the Juilard," he said, and grinned. "Dedicated the performance to you. Thanks."
The next man said nothing, and just hugged him, tears of joy running down his face as he held up a well-scuffed football, then disappeared.
He almost tripped over the beagle as he left.
Charles Schultz - 02/12/00
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