The old shed was barely visible from the road. It was covered in rampant grape vines and greenbriar. Arnold poked around in the bushes surrounding it, deciding whether or not to explore the dilapidated structure. He was curious, but cautious. He had stirred up wasp nests and almost got bitten by a snake in the past, while rummaging through abandoned buildings. Sometimes he could date these old places by the light fixtures or newspapers scattered around.
Once, he found an antique chest, which he took home and refinished. And several times, he found ancient bottles to add to his collection. Mostly, he just looked around, wondering, inquisitive. He was short and plump, with a full head of thick gray hair. He also had a keen eye and a love of mystery. The shed remained, while the only thing left of the house were some bricks and a rusty washpan.
Gingerly, he peeked through the door. It was dark and smelled of rot. He had a small flashlight in his pocket, which he used to illuminate the inside. There was a broken shovel, a couple of buckets, a rake, and a toolbox. Here and there, bird nests remained in the rafters. A lantern hung from a nail and way up on a high shelf, there was a wooden box. This got his attention.
Arnold looked around for something to stand on, but the buckets had holes in them and the washpan would never hold his weight. He kept glancing up at the box while he looked through the tools and dug a few holes in the dirt with what was left of the shovel. Before he left, he stood on tiptoe and shone the flashlight on the box. It appeared to have some intricate carvings and perhaps an ivory inlay. He decided to come back another day with his ladder.
A few days after, Arnold went looking for his ladder, but couldn’t remember where he put it. Finally, he recalled loaning it to his brother. By the time he got it back, it was a month later. Arnold had joined a bridge club, started painting his house, and signed up for some voluntary library work. He was so busy, he forgot about the mysterious box. Until the dream.
One night, he dreamed he was able to fly. He flew around town, out into nearby farmlands, into the woods, and back to the shed. He was able to fly up to the high shelf and was about to reach for the box, when he woke up. And try as he might, he was not able to go back to sleep. “Now where did I put my ladder?” he asked himself when he got up. This time, it was right where it should be.
He found the shed again. This time, it was colder and a lot of the underbrush had died back. So, he was able to get there with no trouble. The same rotted odor pervaded it, along with a dank earth smell. Arnold carried his ladder, almost effortlessly, with the excitement he felt. Once, he tripped over a pile of bricks and once he stubbed his toe on a piece of farm equipment that was partially buried in the ground. He shone his way in with the flashlight. Everything was exactly where it was before. Except the box.
He dragged his ladder over to the shelves and positioned it just right. He climbed it with great care, as it seemed a bit wobbly. He could finally reach the top shelf!
But, the box was not there. Instead, there was the impression of a rectangular object, deep within a thick layer of dust. He looked all up and down the shelves, with no luck. Someone had removed it!
Arnold sadly resigned himself to the loss, and slumped back to his truck. Although he never found out what happened to the box, he would still find it in his dreams - filled with winning lottery tickets or gold coins or some other fabulous treasure. Perhaps, after all, it was only meant to be a dream.
