yin & yang

i wake up this morning cause the phone's ringing. i havent heard it lately. it simply says nothing. i check the display, no number. i answer the phone anyway, yet i can't hear anything. so i throw it under the pillow and go back to sleep. but can i? no. so i get up, lazily drinking some water cause im not able to make coffee yet. the heat is killing me, i feel like lying on the floor, not moving an inch. which i do. but as soon as i hit the floor i feel it crumble underneath and i fall. and fall. and i dont hit anything but air. endlessly. i try to grab something, anything, i reach and feel something. i grab it and it pulls me up, so high, like a rocket. suddenly im in front of the door, opening it. in front of me, a face, unknown, says:

well? how was it?

'how was what?' i say.

'the trip'.

i remember the 'trip'. so i ask:'how do you know about it?'

'well', says the stranger, ' i called you earlier, son, you asked me to come help you.'

'son?'

the stranger looks at me blankly, not astonished, takes a picture out of his wallet and shows it to me. it is us, together, father and son apparently. 'you can't do this anymore, son. you have to quit now, otherwise, you might never come back'. he puts the picture in his pocket again and leaves. as i turn, closing the door, i see something up the only shelf in the room. the picture of the stranger and myself.