Little Black Book

I was laying on the couch, passing another day in my tiny house in South Africa. The sun came in through the window of the front door and lit up the woodgrain walls of the room. The warmth caused me to drift to sleep and I began to see visions in my mind’s eye.

I was taken up into the clouds and before me stood a giant bookcase with ancient books of many colors. As I looked, a small black notebook drifted off the shelf like a feather and floated down in front of me. The book appeared to be alive, it opened for me and I could see the pages which were full of ancient writing. I had not seen this language before, but in this realm, I could understand the script. I realized that the words on the pages described the events in my life. As I continued to read, the letters were overlaid in gold to highlight events that had actually happened in my waking life. Between the completed events, were many more lines of the story which had never happened. They were all good things: adventures to places I had never been, encounters with interesting people which I had not met, epic victories and freedom in my soul. The book seemed to include a detailed description of a destiny I only knew in part. I started to cry as I saw all the things that were not painted in gold, that perhaps I had missed in my waking life. However, the atmosphere of the place would not allow me to cry for long, it was so peaceful and joy permeated the air. My feelings turned hopeful as I continued to see the pages of my destiny turn and approach the current day.

“February 23, 2021. Our son took a walk into the woods in the afternoon. He saw some little grey monkeys scavenging on the ground and followed them to a tree in a big clearing. A strange rock formation next to the tree caught his eye. He climbed the rocks to find a cleft covered by brush and moss. That was where the monkeys hid their treasure.”

As I read this passage, the words turned to gold. I was surprised because I had not experienced this event; the letters should have remained black. However, reading all the other stories which had come to pass in the book made me believe this entry would also be a reality.

I abruptly woke up and realized that I was back in my house and had been dreaming in the heat of the afternoon. At first, my heart sunk a bit because the glory of that place and the books had left me. Amidst the disappointment, a glimmer of hope and belief remained in my heart. I figured there was no harm in taking a walk in the woods and seeing if anything would happen.

I ventured down the dirt road surrounded by tall golden grass on both sides. There was a pasture at the bottom of the hill and the monkeys usually gathered nuts in a grassy area to the right. Sure enough, four monkeys were sitting there eating fruit. One started to run away when she saw me but stopped at the entrance to the forest as if she was waiting for me. I followed her through the trees and into a clearing, just as I saw in the dream. Rays of light shown though the canopy on a baobab tree next to a rocky hill. My heart started to beat faster as I recalled the vision and started to jog to the hill. The monkey who had been guiding me dashed up and disappeared into a cleft in the rock. She reappeared a moment later, sitting there as if to mark the spot where she deposited her treasures. I went up to her and she continued to just sit and watch me. Just as I saw in the vision, I moved the brush and moss to find the spot where the monkeys kept all the trinkets they found. The bowl in the rock was mostly full of nut casings and pieces of metal. There were a few tools, coins, candy tins and toys. Then a glimmer caught my eye, something covered in dirt, having the shape of a root or small gourd. I reached in, pulled out the object, examined it and washed it with water from my canteen. The gold became apparent as the dirt fell off. “Could this be a real gold nugget?” I thought to myself. The monkeys must have found it in the river where there was much gold a century ago. I placed my treasure in my pocket and returned to the house.

I cleaned up the nugget and brought it to the house of my friend, Kristina, whose father owned a jewelry store. Maybe he could tell me whether it was genuine and what it was worth. I walked in and sat down on a rocking chair next to her father. “What have you got for me?” he said. I pulled out the object which I had placed in a black cloth; I unwrapped it and his eyes lit up. Immediately, he could tell it was genuine gold and went to get his scale. He returned and weighted the nugget: nearly fifteen ounces. “That’s worth over $20,000!” he said. I thanked him and returned home with my gem, grateful for the vision of the little black book which had led me to the prize. That evening, I laid in bed dreaming about what I could do with my new treasure.