Hands Of Time [Chapter 1]

I wrote the following story over three years ago. The story speaks of a reality that really happened in my life, but tells it in a different, dream-like fashion. This is a reality that I will have to live with for the rest of my life, I am thankful for the grace and mercy of my Lord.


My dream, or should I say nightmare, always begins the same way. I am at the front door of my house fumbling in the dark for my keys, trying to get inside. Just as my hand is about to pound on the door, in exasperation, it suddenly swings open and light floods out of the house into the ocean of darkness that has encompassed me. My eyes instinctively squint, partially due to fright and partially because my eyes had adjusted nicely to the darkness before the sudden light shocked them with the intense contrast. In the doorway I see the, all too familiar silhouette, that of my beautiful wife. Just as my eyes adjust to seeing her pretty face, she greets me. She laughs and asks me how in the world I could misplace my keys from the car up to the front steps. At this I also laugh and merely shrug it off, the answer obviously eludes me also. I step into the warm, lit house and give her our customary greeting, a kiss on the lips. As I take off my coat she asks me why I am late getting home tonight? As the last of her words were leaving her lips my eye’s quickly dart over to the tall grandfather clock in the hallway, his face announces 5:26 p.m. My mind reels for an answer but I sit there like a computer trying to read an empty disk, no information to display. I usually got home at 4:30 p.m., at the latest 4:45 p.m., why was I so late tonight? I tell my wife that I honestly didn’t know what was wrong with me and confessed to her that my mind was producing a blank. I ask her to give me a couple minutes and hopefully it will come to me. At this my wife looks deep into my soul, smiles at me sympathetically, then turns and calls the children to the dinner table.