(note: The first two paragraphs are a repeat from section 2 because I divided it incorrectly.

PART 3

As I overcome my absolute astonishment at the sudden turn of events, a thought comes to mind, if seeing is believing, then experiencing is knowing. Yet here I stand not knowing what I am experiencing, and as for seeing, there is nothing to see, so there’s nothing to believe. It is all whiteness, as if I had opened my eyes to the sun and had been blinded by it.

I decide to wait. I wait some more. Still nothing. This is very strange. I have been pulled through a looking-glass and there is nothing to look at. Again I wait. I am not afraid, though I certainly do not know why. Then I realize that not only is there nothing to see, but there is nothing to hear, not a sound. It is as quiet and silent as a tomb. I begin to walk. On what I am walking is beyond me to know. I do not go far. I am walking in a small circle, always ending where I began, or so I think, since I am not at all certain from where I began. I wait in the pure whiteness of nothing, nothing at all-and in the silence.

I do not know the passing of time here, thus I do not know how long since I left the optical shop, though I am not discomforted in any way. I must admit to boredom, for beyond my inquiring of this place, my mind seems unable to reflect upon but little, almost nothing that might have occurred previously, and in fact, I am not sure at all that there was a previously. I sense I am fading into the light, or rather, merging with it, as if it is a part of me, or I it.

I am trying, or at least I think I am trying, to keep hold of thoughts, but it seems the longer I am here, the less of them there are to get a hold of. It is as if I am being erased.

Words failing fast. Imagination, gone. Reflecting, gone. Feeling, gone. Breathing, gone. Everything, gone. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

“Welcome back,” says the old man.

I start at this words. I am again sitting before the looking glass. My faculties slowly return, yet I dare not look into the looking-glass again. I keep my eyes solidly set on the old man.

“What occurred?” I asked.

“Nothing. Nothing at all,” He laughs. “Is it not the same with life? Think nothing and nothing happens, or rather, nothing appears and nothing but nothing is experienced. The value of not thinking is like the value of sleep, refreshing, no thoughts, no something, no pain. Just endless peace. Very refreshing.”

“That is rather flippant. It was not as entertaining as you might suppose.”

“My apologies. Yet there is great value in the stillness of silence, and in humor, as you will see.”

“What do you mean, ‘As I will see’?” I ask, not soothed at all.

“It is difficult to explain the spectacles. They reveal what they will. Thought I suspect they give what is needed, though how they know what that might be, I do not know. And their humor is equal to your own.”

“Humor perhaps, but for whom? I did find it interesting, the silence, the nothingness, that is...until I disappeared. That was vexing, though how I knew that at the time I do not know. But I know now quite fully. My state of mind is such that I doubt somewhat that I shall find the perfect spectacles I seek, here.”

“You have but tried three spectacles. Perhaps what you desire will yet appear. Seldom, if ever, to my remembrance, has anyone left disappointed. I will leave you to your decision.”