Visiting Eternity. Preface

Memories... They give me no peace. Sometimes I feel that within each one of them, eternity is contained, and this Eternity is waiting for me. Waiting patiently. Hardly reminding me of itself. Only occasionally does it wake me at dawn, when the whole world is still immersed in blue pre-dawn twilight, and whisper: "I have wonderful stories for you, and you're asleep. Soon morning will come, and I won't be able to tell you anything anymore. Or rather, you won't be able to hear. Everyone will wake up, and you won't make out my quiet whisper. Wake up, let's chat. I've been waiting a long time, and I'll wait a bit longer, of course, but without you, I'm a little bored. I have wonderful treasures hidden away for you, but I just can't seem to share them…"
 
Through my drowsiness, I hear this quiet murmuring, but I don't want to get up. I'm lazy. I wrap myself deeper in the blanket and pretend to be asleep. She believes me. She leaves. And as a farewell gift, she gives me a weightless, transparent dream. But today, apparently, her patience ran out, and she decided to reach me at any cost. And she thought of a trick. As soon as I, as usual, dived into the pillows and blankets and pretended to be asleep, she took a silver glass sphere and smashed it right next to my ear. Sparkling shards rained down. I squeezed my eyes shut, but nothing could save me now. The shards fell on my face, on the pillow, on the cat peacefully dozing on the pillow, and melted, turning into dazzlingly bright childhood memories. And I realised that if I didn't get up right then and write them down, I would have no peace.
 
The writer Haruki Murakami was right when he said that some stories want to be told and won't rest until they get their way.
 
And so I sit in the kitchen, writing, and Eternity sits calmly beside me, drinking coffee and encouraging me: "There, there, don't be afraid, I'll help! You're not much of a writer, of course, but we've never lost anyone, have we? Without me, I'll tell you a secret, not a single writer has ever written anything worthwhile. And I'll help you. It only seems like these are all your memories. Actually, they are my stories. And who else but me should tell them?"
 
What a sly one. But I'm even glad it turned out this way. After all, it's not every day you get to chat so closely with Eternity itself.