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am on my feet all of the pedestrians disappear. They are all gone, it's just me and this man standing
on a sidewalk.

I ask him who he is, and he tells me that he is the son of God. I pause, and I ask him if he means he
is Jesus Christ, and he tells me that he will be Jesus Christ if that's what I decide to call him. He
begins to walk, and I follow him, and I ask him questions. I ask him if he died thousands of years
ago, and he says that death is a misunderstood phenomenon. He says that even if he did die, he has
always been here. For the past twenty years and for the past thousands of years.

I ask him if he means he has been here literally, like walking on Earth among us people, or
philosophically, existing only in our hearts, minds and dreams. He says both, but also says that the
importance of one over the other is subjective. And then he looks back at me and tells me to stand
there, not to move a muscle.

People always say that, don't move a muscle. Even if I stand perfectly still, my heart which is made
up of cardiac muscle is still beating. Still moving. Beat. Pump. Beat. And now it has stopped.
Every cell in my body has stopped, as if time is frozen.

In the distance, on the road, I see my younger brother. There are people around him, skinny men
and women, even children, with dirty rags on for clothing. He is giving them all fruits. He looks in
my direction for a second, but he doesn't see me; it is almost as if I weren't there.

When my brother and I were younger, I would always tell him to share his food with those who
asked. I used to tell him that when he got older, he would have to know when to share his fruit,
even when they didn't ask, because sometimes those people would live overseas and they wouldn't
be able to ask. These were the things my mother taught me as a child.

Now my brother and all those people are gone, and the pedestrians are back. Jesus Christ has
disappeared within the crowd. I can move again, and my heart is beating now. Beat. Pump. Beat.
After a short while I see my younger brother again, walking among the crowd across the street. He
looks in my direction again, and this time he sees me and walks towards me.

We start to talk, and after a while I mention how when we were younger, how I would always tell
him to share his food, and that I was proud he listened because getting people to listen is one task
we can't complete alone in our lives.

Now he has a look of confusion on his face, and he tells me he has no idea what I'm talking about.
He says I never told him to share his food. Now the look of confusion has jumped off of his face
and onto mine, and before I could realize it I am staring at his backside as he's walking away. I start
to shout, telling him to remember to share his food with others, trying to remind him that kindness
can go a long way. I go on until he's completely gone, and then I realize Jesus Christ is sitting in the
corner.

He looks at me and he says that it doesn't matter if we are alive or dead, it doesn't matter if we can
physically walk on Earth or not. He says that the things we say to people, the things we do to
people, they are sometimes remembered, regardless of how important or unimportant it may be.