The only thing Sambo could see in his mind now was his own grave. It was not large at all; it was totally plain, or more accurately: it was nothing more than a pile of dust. Cold and hard, shovel over shovel of dust covered his body, as if they were death itself. No, this is not what I sought after drifting over a thousand miles, Sambo almost shouted out loud, but his body had no energy left to do so. Nevertheless, the cry in his mind still roared so loud that it almost deafened him and made him tremble. “Hold it,” he told himself. “Sit put and keep on meditating. I will find a way out of it.” Relaxing his body, emptying his mind, Sambo began to recall his reason for coming to the city.
Sambo had had visions since he was young. He first found out he had such a gift during a hot summer afternoon, when his mother asked him to fetch some water from the river. Looking at the still half-full urn, Sambo, who wanted only to go out and play, thought to himself: there seems to be enough water for dinner, so I’ll just go fetch the water tomorrow. As soon as this thought arose, an image suddenly flashed into his mind: he could see someone coming for dinner that night, and since there wasn’t enough water to use, Sambo got spanked fiercely. “Ouch,” Sambo almost cried out when he got spanked in the vision. He was so shocked, because the image was so vivid that he could even feel his bottom hot as if it were being spanked. Subconsciously, frightened Sambo rubbed his bottom and, although he didn’t know what was going on, he decided to go fetch the water as he had been told.
