Arrival

It has been 39 hours since I found the boy in my yard.

He has strange clothes and the only thing he says he remembers is his name. It is a very strange name, foreign. I don't know where it is from. We speak the same language, at least. Equally strange-and the reason I've started writing about this-is that a few hours after I found him and the police determined that they did not know who he was I decided to try to find out for myself. 

I went into the library that the field takes the form of in my meditations and I searched for his name. I can meet someone for the first time and they can tell me about a friend that I have never met and that very evening I can 'walk' into that same library and find out anything and everything about that friend. I need a notion, a connection within my own mind. Having a name or a face, or much less both should make it easier.

He was not there.

For those who are having trouble understanding why this is strange, I ask you this. If you could look into the mind of your deity for information on a person you met and yet it was not there, can you imagine the discontent you might feel after?

He is asleep on my couch now and he remains as much a mystery to me as anything I have ever encountered.

When he wakes, I am going to try to lead him through a meditation to see if he can remember anything. It may simply fail, not many people I know have the needed discipline. Then again, if his cup is truly empty perhaps it will not be able to spill.

If my grandfather were still alive, I wonder what he would think of a boy who the field does not know.