All was dark when I awoke on my own. All except a tiny ray of light that stretched itself from the closed shade in my small room’s solitary window to the floorboard of the wall opposite it. The light told me it was daytime, but all else surrounding it was pure blackness. I stared at the light that was cast against the floorboard and watched it slowly make its way up and across the wall. It was curious. At least I thought it was, the way the light did not reflect off the wall into another part of the room. I would expect it to, but it almost seemed to be ingested by the wall. Swallowed at its end. That, or it continued through the wall where I could not see. Either way, I found something very curious about this light.
As I watched the pinhole dot of light on the wall move, slowly yet steadily, across the room, I began to notice the particles that floated in the air. It was strangely odd to me that I could not identify these tiny, almost microscopic intruders into my vision. Were they fibers, or dust, or remnants of decaying matter? Whatever they were, there was a steady stream of them moving from one side of darkness, through the miniscule ray of light, and into the opposite eternal darkness. There must have been millions, trillions of these particles floating in the space outside the light that I could not see. That is if they could be counted so high by a number that man has actually reached. I was acutely aware that I must be breathing in these invaders, and they were now making their way into and through my body. My nerves shivered at the thought, and my skin crawled. I gagged and thrashed. I tried to vomit them out, but to no avail. I fought hard until I grew rapidly tired, and I laid down once more.
Once I overcame the intense battle with my imperialistic fibers, I began following the intruders as they streamed feverishly from the winds of my thrashing to expel them from my body. Though my battle was lost, or perhaps because of my defeat, I began to see how beautiful their pirouettes were in the dying winds of my conflict. Perhaps these particles were not the intrusive, violating organisms I thought them to be. There was a natural beauty about them. In fact, maybe they were a godsend. Maybe they were meant to be so small and so many, so they could infiltrate my being and go to work repairing that which was ill with me.
I became quick friends with my once proclaimed foes. Realizing now that they were not the infidels I thought they were. I even began playing with them. Swiping my hand and watching them dance. We were all as one for the time. But time passes and interests move on as always.
My attention turned to the light that showed me my friends and not so much my friends themselves. I grew affection for the light. If it were not for this light, I would not have had the companionship I enjoyed for the moments that passed. The light was yellow, though as I stared at it for a prolonged time it seemed to change from a dull yellow to white, and back again. It was a show of lights—a spectacular extravaganza that reminded me of fireworks over the harbor when I was an innocent child. I enjoyed the splendid lightshow until it shot from the hole in the shade straight into my eye. I was blinded for the moment. I hadn't noticed how far the light stream moved in the time of my battle and friendship with the floating particles, and the lightshow that was just so rudely interrupted by the conductor.
The source of my adventures had now grabbed my strict attention. The projector of the light that has gained my affection was now shining feverishly into my eye and causing moderate pain. I lifted my head to remove the light from my eye and to receive a closer and better look at the hole.
What made this pinhole in my shade? I do not recall doing it, or seeing it done. I severely doubt it was truly a pin that created this hole, but I could not for the life of me consider any other alternative. I pondered this for a time until the pinhole became gradually dull and dark and I grew tired and fell back on my bed asleep, hoping my friends would not wage war on me again tomorrow.