A Strange Pile of Dirt

Fedor awoke to the sight of a neat pile of dirt staring at him from the smooth wooden floor. “This pile of dirt has no business here at all” he thought. Then he reminded himself that he was now a thinking man and had no room for such dismissive sentiments towards any object. Suddenly and without warning he remembered wisps of the dream he had had on the previous night. Unfortunately he was too preoccupied with the strange pile of dirt on his floor to force himself to remember any further. “Dreams are fickle and moving, much too hard to grasp in reality; this pile of dirt on the other hand…” he thought. “Why was it here and from whence did it come? Where does dirt originate? Each particle most definitely has been part of something extraordinary in its lifetime, but now it sits on my smooth wooden floor waiting for its next adventure ever so patiently. It can’t possibly be satisfied with its current situation, but it does seem ever so content to pile there in that spot of insignificance, waiting. I am dirt in the midst of an extraordinary adventure and later I will sit on someone else’s smooth wooden floor” Fedor reflected. He didn’t want to sit on someone else’s wooden floor but that’s just the way things go.

Fedor went on a walk that night. It was the first time in two days that he had left his apartment. As he slipped through the streets of the night he began to think, as Fedor so often did. Looking at everything he passed he thought about the oddness inherent in all things. “Trees look so peculiar, I wonder why they should have turned out this way. And the sky is such an odd shade of blue, why should it be that way? Why should anything be any way for that matter? In fact, I find it hard to believe I’m even standing here” he thought as he halted mid-stride to look at the world that was becoming so odd right before his eyes.

But stand there he did, at that moment in time and that location in space, Fedor stood beyond all odds, simply trying to make sense of it all. In fact, if he could make sense of anything he would be satisfied. He finally forced himself to trod one dutiful foot in front of the next.

Searching for meaning in every branch and shadowy figure he passed by, Fedor found only an odd sense of uncertainty about everything and everyone.