AN ACCEPTANCE of the UNKNOWN

"I wish you'd stop saying that," she grumbled through gritted teeth. "I'm sick of hearing it."

All I had said was that I believe in only what I can see, smell, and hear. This had been my philosophy and it had served me well. Yes, I had stated this conviction many times but had had no idea that it bothered my wife, Margaret, that much.

That night I had an unusual dream. I saw the diaphanous image of a figure I sensed represented Hamlet. "There are more things in heaven and earth, Robert, than are dreamt of in your philosophy." I heard these words in my mind. It amused me that my name was being used instead of "Horatio." "Mark well ye the camera," the phantom stated. The dream ended abruptly and vaporized from my mind.

"Look! Maggie," I said when I saw the red and yellow box on the dresser in the morning. "How did this get here?" She asserted that she did not know. "It couldn't have gravitated here by itself," I grumbled acidly. I picked up the box and studied the writing on its surfaces. "Indoor, outdoor camera, twenty-seven exposures, one-time use," I muttered as I read. With some difficulty I tore off the top and pulled out a blue and yellow camera. I noted that it had been used. There were no exposures left. How was this possible? I asked Margaret if she'd take the camera to the photo lab and have the pictures developed. This might explain how it had suddenly materialized in our bedroom.

She called me at the office. "They developed the pictures, Bob. They put 27 exposures on a CD. All the pictures are of old-time people. There's also one picture that looks like you as a youngster." Intrigued, I could not wait till I got home to see for myself. Yes, there they were, men, women, and children in clothing that must have dated back to the middle ages. Who were these people? And, yes, there was I as a kid. But, how had this been done? There must be an explanation. Someone, expert in the use of Photoshop, must have been responsible, I thought. "I believe in only things I can see, smell, and hear," I declared. Margaret glowered. "There's more to reality than meets the eye," she responded tersely

That night the diaphanous image of Hamlet returned in a dream. "Robert, you have a talent that is needed in today's world but, at present, you are not capable of providing it. You need to forsake your disbelief of things unseen. "All is based on rationality," I insisted. "Every event has a cause. This is the law of nature." He was silent for several seconds. "Mind, you carry your umbrella tomorrow," he verbalized. The apparition vanished along with all memory of it.

"Maggie, where did this thing come from?" I yelled greatly annoyed. "Are you playing a prank on me? You must know something about this!" There was that box again. As before, it was sealed. I opened it and saw that the camera inside had been used. Margaret came out of the bathroom smoothing down her nightgown. She insisted she was not involved in any way. Then she added, "When faced with the obscure, one must look for light from another fountainhead." I had never before heard Margaret speak like this. Or, maybe she had, and I had not listened.

This time the evidence was that there had been only one photo taken. As before, I asked Margaret to take the camera to the photo lab for processing. She said she would.

At lunchtime the next day, I left the office intending to dine at Cicero's. On the way, a sudden ferocious rainstorm jettisoned masses of water on me drenching me and every stitch I had on. The onslaught lasted a mere thirty seconds. I needed to go home and I flagged a taxi. Arriving at the apartment, Margaret stared at me in amazement. "I've just come back from the lab, she said. She then showed me a picture that forever changed my life and changed everything that I had ever believed in. There was the image of a man in the photo who could have stepped out of "Singing in The Rain." It was Gene Kelly, I thought, soaked to the skin, sloshing through ankle-deep water. But he was carrying no umbrella. I looked more closely. It was not Gene in the photo. It was me!

I'll never know who or what had taken that photo. From that day I abandoned my skepticism and became a believer in the unknown.