I walked across the room to the other door and when I came closer, I was surprised to see that it was put together from different pieces of old wood, while everything else in that room was made out of a white material with a smooth and glossy surface as if it was made of glazed ceramic. The door didn’t seem to fit in as it was an old double-winged door with four decorative wooden frames dividing each wing. I noticed that the wood was completely worn out, giving it a more grayish colour. It looked as if it had faded by the permanent exposure to sun and rain over time.

I gently pushed the door open. The room it opened to was much darker, and when I entered, I paused for a minute to allow my eyes to adjust to the dim light. Slowly I could make out the details of the room little by little. It was a small bedroom with wooden walls and four windows on two of the walls. The windows were slightly ajar, allowing only a little light in from outside. One of the walls was entirely bare. In the middle of the room stood a wooden bed that looked antique, with a rather thin mattress covered by a floral quilt and four poles at its corners to hang a mosquito net.

“This is my bedroom when I was a child!” I exclaimed, registering all the details and suddenly remembering the room. I would never have remembered it if I hadn’t seen this place physically in front of my eyes. This had been my room when I was only seven or eight years old.

“How is it possible that I am seeing my old bedroom here?” I asked myself in amazement. I recalled that the house in which I had grown up didn’t exist anymore. It had been sold and demolished when I was nine, and my mom and dad had used the money from the sale to build a new house.

“Yes, this is your bedroom,” I heard a girl’s voice say behind me.

I spun around and saw a small girl standing at the door. The blinding light shining in from behind her made it difficult for me to see her clearly. When my eyes had adapted to the light, I could see her more clearly and immediately recognised her: it was that same girl I had first met outside of the noodles shop back in my world, where she was distributing magazines, and later again at Hotte’s bun shop.

“Hi, so it’s you again,” I greeted her.

“Hi,” she replied as she walked towards a small chair in the middle of the room.

“So … you are …?” I started to ask.

“Yes, I am that same girl,” she replied and sat down on the chair.

“We have met hundreds of times already, but this is where we met for the first time.”

“What do you mean …?” I asked her, slightly confused.

“I was the one who brought you here, your journey started almost twenty years ago, in your bedroom,” she answered with a faint smile.

“When was that? I can’t remember anything right now,” I asked her.

“I was in your dream, remember?” she replied.

“In my dream?” I mechanically repeated her words.

“Yes,” she said emphatically.

“So you were that same girl?”

“I’ve been with you all the time, and for such a long time, too.”

“I’m sorry, I’m really confused now. Who are you? Are you a spirit that is following me, or are you just a hallucination?” I really felt confused, and my thoughts were racing.

“I came here to meet God … but instead I met you,” I said.

“Let me help you,” she replied gently. “Everything you see is a mental manifestation that we create together, you and me. I am what you want me to be, even in your memory, or in your dreams, which you think are not real. But for me, everything is real. When we first met in your dream, that wasn’t different from meeting in real life at all, because all traces that remain are only memories as well.”

“Wait.” Slowly it dawned on me and I carefully articulated my nagging suspicion. “So, you are … GOD …?”

“Why not? What did you expect God to be?” she asked with a mild smile on her face.

“I understand that God isn’t one thing, as Ruthorn explained to me earlier, but now that I have met you … Why did you choose to appear in this humble form? I mean …” and now I was stumbling to find the right words, “… I mean your appearance doesn’t seem to represent who you are.”

“Which appearance would better represent who I am, in your opinion?” she replied, still smiling as if what I have said had amused her.

“You’re the Creator of the world and the universe! You are God who rules over all deities and all human beings. You’re the Father of all souls. But now, you appear in front of me as a little girl, and even worse than that, in such a poor surrounding as well,” I said with intrigue.

“Isn’t this the place you are most familiar with? And to tell you the truth, I’ve appeared in much worse environments. I took the forms of a small fire, a wild animal in a bush, or even a drop of water in a metal sink. But you know, I’ve never felt uncomfortable, not even once. On the contrary, I’ve always been proud of everything I’ve ever been because there is nothing that I am not,” she answered.

“I see … but may I ask you something?” I said timidly. “Why did you decide to appear as a little girl? Why not in another shape or form?”

“Well, it was actually you who chose the form of my appearance,” she answered. “You should know that better than I do.”

“I have to admit that I don’t quite understand,” I replied.

“The figure you see is the symbol of everlasting happiness. It’s the representation of the love that has been waiting for you for a very long time. It’s also the representation of all joy and happiness that comes from your subconscious mind,” she explained patiently.

“But why, of all things, why this girl?” I asked, bewildered.