A few days ago (the reason for my vagueness will soon become clear) I was downtown walking to the Timberland Library. I know my way around downtown pretty well, I might  not be able to give accurate driving directions complete with correct street names, but I could be set down on foot most anywhere and get to my destination. My feet know the way and my path often includes alleys and parking lot cut throughs. I get to where I want to go.

But this time I was influenced and I believe that influence continues and possibly has even permeated all of downtown. I was within view of the railroad tracks and had noted two people standing closer to the tracks, engaged in some mysterious business that involved standing still and gazing into the distance. No big deal but then I caught a flash of one person's face and became intrigued - they were extremely pale. Pale as in paper white. I took a closer focused look and slowly realized that I was looking at a.......mime.


Yes, a mime, doing non-mime ordinary living. A mime in full mime face paint garbed in a scoop neck black leotard, black pants, and most assuredly regulation issue mime shoes. The person also had their hair pulled into pig tails.

I assimilated this information and continued on, unaware that I'd been subtly influenced. I partially woke out of the mime induced fog to discover that I was now standing in front of the post office, not the library. How did I get here?

I successfully reoriented myself and achieved the library. But ever since then I've been floating in Oly Space, where time and space and mimes are mysterious.

Today at the B&B an older gentleman in a dapper brimmed hat approached my table and began arranging it for apparently himself and another person. He set down coffee and pastry, pulled up another chair, all while never looking directly at me. He had a satisfied industrious happy air so I contented myself with simply watching until he was about to sit down. I asked out loud in a friendly manner: "How are you doing?" and as the man jumped and apologized unnecessarily I told him that he was welcome to share the table. He kept apologizing and a woman seated next to me finally clued me in: the man thought he was preparing a table for he and his wife, his wife who from a distance looks somewhat like me. The gentleman pressed his hands together, bowed, and went off to find his real wife.

I eventually headed out to go to the...you guessed it.....library. When I'd left home this morning I was well aware that today is Wednesday, March 28th, 2007. Plus I had my wrist watch on and believed myself well oriented to reality. But somehow now that I was once again in mysterious Oly Space, I decided that today was Friday and that waiting a few minutes for the library to open at 10 a.m. made sense, since today is.....Friday. I amused myself watching a young man practice his yo-yo skills and looked over designs and words scrawled on the brick trim of the library building.

Fortunately the yo-yo man said out loud to someone else "The library isn't open until 11 a.m.". I double checked the open hours sign on the library door, still thinking it was Friday, until the dawning of reason and reality kick started my mind again. Oh. Yeah. It is Wednesday. (I bolded that for myself, since my mind still isn't too sure what day it is.)

Off I went, now to the bus. The bus was prompt, I settled in for the ride and listened to the sound of Approaching.......Approaching recited over and over and over again by the new announcement system.

Approaching. But we are never told when (or if) we arrive.

Am I really here yet?