"What is it?" I asked curiously, fingering the vial with my name on it.
"That's a small question with a large answer," replied the gray man. "It's the distilled essence of your spirit, I suppose. It's what makes you... you."
"So, we all have one?" I asked, marveling at the millions of bottles nestled in the sand. No bird flew in this white sky, and the waves tiptoed onto the pale shore in quiet rhythm.
"Yes, every man."
I uncorked the bottle, and peered over the rim. A sapphire liquid shimmered brightly in the glass and I wondered where such a thing was born.
"Careful," advised the gray man. "You have only one."
“And you take care of them?”
“In a manner of speaking. However, the ultimate responsibility belongs to each person. The course you choose in this life, your words and deeds, either enhance or diminish what’s in that bottle. Some become water, void of taste and color. Others sparkle like jewels in amber and pearl and ruby. And others, sadly, thicken into sludge and muck.”
“Why is mine blue? What does it mean?”
The gray man peered into my eyes, with a quizzical expression. “Don’t you know? You created that color, only you truly know the reason.”
I smiled to myself as I replaced the cork. Kneeling in the sand, I nestled my bottle back into its place. “There was a time,” I whispered, “that I almost forgot.”
I turned from the beach, and from the gray man. I traced my footprints back the way I had come, having learned the lesson meant for me. I walked until the bottles were far behind, and the sound of gulls once again filled the air. I looked up into the cerulean sky, thankful.
We tread the shores of our dreams for many reasons.