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I woke up in a circular room made of cold, white metal. There were no windows or doors. The walls stretched up forever, farther than I could see. Even if the top of the room was within my vantage point, I would still have been unable to see it due to the large, blinding light that illuminated the room. There was no discernible light source; it seemed to come from nowhere and simply exist.I sat up slowly. My head throbbed as though I had been hit over the head with something heavy. Perhaps I had been. I couldn’t remember how I had gotten to that room. Suddenly, a piercing shriek rang through the room, and I pressed my hands to my ears to try to keep out the sound. I lost consciousness again, and when I woke up again, I found a small table—no bigger than a stool, really—with a piece of white cardstock. On the cardstock was a strange message—one that I still do not fully understand to this day. It read:
Dear Reader,
The frog does not sing at noon.
Bluebirds eat liver for dinner.
Beware of the cat with blue eyes .
I hear you ask—what does this mean? Well, my own dear reader, I could not tell you then, and I cannot tell you now. It has consumed my every waking thought since the day I found myself in that strange, small room. All that I know about it is that it was the key to my escape.
Upon reading this strange passage, I naturally thought I must have been dreaming. Perhaps I was even dead, and this was my purgatory. I lay down again and felt the cold from the floor seep through my clothes. I stayed there for a long time. Nothing else seemed to be happening, so I began to think about the strange message once more to relieve my boredom. It seemed nonsensical in my mind. What did a frog, bluebirds, and a cat have to do with each other?
Well, a cat very well may hunt a frog or a bluebird , I thought.
Yes, that seemed like a very good idea. Perhaps that was why I was meant to be cautious of the cat.
But did that make me a frog or a bluebird? What was the significance of a singing frog or a bluebird who enjoyed liver for his evening meal?
Every time I tried to answer a question, it only raised more.
Eventually, I had given up, and I resigned myself to pass the time by drawing on the floor with my finger. I drew many things: trees, flowers, ocean waves, a castle. I’m no artist, but the drawings existed only in my mind anyway, so to me they were not unlike the works of DaVinci. Absent-mindedly, I drew the things that were written in the note: a frog, a bluebird, a cat.
Something strange began to happen. The places where I had drawn the animals began to glow. It gradually became brighter until I could no longer bear to look at them and had to shut and cover my eyes. I heard a great clang like a bell just before I lost consciousness once more.
This time, however, when I woke, I was in my bed at home. I stayed in bed for many days, afraid, confused, and exhausted. It has been many years since then, and I still have never been able to find an explanation for this series of events. I’m not even sure if it was real, but to this day I feel a shiver up my spine every time I see a frog, a bluebird, or a cat with blue eyes.