You get to your front door and take your key from your pocket. You slowly unlock the door. Everything seems to be in slow motion. You open the door and step into your house. It feels like you are walking into someone else’s house. It is so clean, that it feels like you never left, or more accurately, like you had left and someone had cleaned it while you were gone.
You take off your coat and shoes and walk down the hall to your bedroom. Slowly, you climb into bed and fall asleep. You dream of that person. Again he asks you what you have learned. However, this time you say, “I have learned that I must not waste my life on newspapers and big lunches.”
The man smiles a little and replies, “If that’s all you’ve learned, then you are not ready yet.”
Everything then fades away into a deep, quiet black.