Toward the Museum

It was a time of night that I cannot say, and sleep was miles away from Smith's eyes. He didn't know why, because everyone else had fallen asleep. Despite the fatigue from travel and a rather busy day, Smith, despite being tired, could not sleep. He had almost been awake the entire previous night as well. It is true that he never really slept well; he could spend several days without sleeping, but right now his nerves were so exhausted that he wanted to fall asleep.

He wished that if he could get just a few moments of sleep, his mind would become calm, and the chaotic thoughts running through his mind would no longer be able to disturb him. Smith quietly got out of bed and slowly walked out of the room. He was walking on the floor without making a sound. The entire farmhouse was shrouded in darkness; the walls and doors felt very familiar to him, as if it were a beloved home, as if he had spent centuries here, as if he had an old connection with this house.

Outside, darkness spread, and the moon was shining through the clouds, its light filtering through the window and illuminating the walls. Smith gently placed his hand on the wall. The wall, that touch, all felt familiar. He started walking and saw a light in a room in the distance.

Smith moved towards the light. It is a tragedy of humanity that he is always in search of something better. As he moved towards the light, Smith felt as if his eyes were closed, and a scene was playing on the screen of his mind. What kind of scene is this? What kind of scene is this? I feel as if I am not a stranger in it.

He began to descend the stairs, as if it were a basement, a secret passage. His mind told him to stop, but he followed his heart. Besides, his mind was so tired that it couldn't protest much.

Smith was still puzzled about why he had fainted during the day. He was not someone with such weak nerves. He had seen the world, met thousands of people, and spent many difficult moments in life alone. In fact, he had spent every moment of his life alone.

Alone?

Smith stopped walking. What am I thinking? I have never been alone. My benefactors, my kind-hearted ones have always been with me. Oh my mind, why are you leading me astray? Smith said to himself.

He wished to sit on the stairs here and not go into the room bathed in yellow light just a short distance away. He wanted to sit there and reflect on all the moments he had experienced so far, but more than that, he was curious about who he was. Why had he fainted during the day, and who was the last person that had been on the screen of his mind before he lost consciousness?

Smith closed his eyes and began to take deep breaths. For a few moments, he felt as if he was feeling better. He decided to go into the inner room and got up. As he descended the stairs, he realized that he was barefoot. The touch of the cold and the feeling of chill had gathered him. It felt as if he had just woken up. He was astonished at every moment as he observed his changing state.

He shook his head and moved towards the door. The door was ancient and worn, with light seeping out through its cracks. Smith placed a hand on the door and tried to open it, but it wouldn't budge. It was made of strong, heavy wood. He put both hands into it, and the door began to creak open, producing a loud noise. It felt as if the door had been opened after centuries.

There was someone sitting in front on a chair, their back turned towards the door.

He stood there, astonished.

"Gregson!"

He was called.

"So, it was Grandpa!" Smith took a deep breath and stepped into the room.

"Grandpa, why are you awake at this late hour?" Grandpa turned his face.

"You should be asking why you are in this room at this time."

"Yes, yes, I should be asking that too!" Smith lifted the chair, which was very heavy. He dusted it off and sat down close to Grandpa, who was seated at the head of a long table, looking sad, troubled, and distressed.

"I knew you would definitely come here, Gregson!" Grandpa said.

"And why were you so sure that I would come here?" Smith asked in surprise.

"Because I know that the search within me is the same search within you. Your eyes told me long ago that you too are a traveller on the same path that I am."

"I don't understand anything!" Smith asked.

"What do you want to understand, Smith Gregson?"

Smith moved a little closer.

"Grandpa, the things you told me this morning, if they are all true, do you think they will also be alive?" He was slowly articulating his words.

"How can you take away the hope of a living person from an old man?" There were shards of broken dreams in Grandpa's eyes.

"I have spent my whole life on the hope that they will be there, just as we are here." But Grandpa gently said, "That could also be a misconception!"

Smith couldn't help but respond.

"You might have understood this in one day, but I have researched it for years!"

"Grandpa,"he said sadly, "do you understand the pain of an old man whose only son is lost, and whose wife dies giving birth to him? The son is his support, and one day he too disappears? You cannot understand my pain!"

"Oh Grandpa, I can understand. I understand everything you are saying!" Smith gently held his hand. "I believe in everything you say, but we should also consider the other side of this matter!"

"I do not want to! “Grandpa replied firmly.

"I can understand!" Smith said, and Grandpa took a deep breath and stood up.

"Come, I want to show you something. In fact, I should say that I have been sitting here waiting for you to come so that I can show you!" Grandpa began to walk, and Smith followed him.

There was an adjoining room to the basement. Grandpa gently opened its door, and the room was connected to another door. Before opening this door, Grandpa signalled him to close the back door so that no one else could find their way in through the light.

Smith closed the door and turned, and Grandpa opened the door to the new room. The room was completely shrouded in darkness. There was an unpleasant atmosphere in the room, as if no fresh air had entered through this door for centuries. Grandpa stepped forward and turned on the light in the room. A yellow bulb began to glow in every direction. Smith Gregson looked closely; it was an ancient library.