Projector Man

A Story About Most of Us

photo source

There stands a man.

Tall, dark, and with the glass bulb of a projector coming through his forehead.

Everywhere he went he was disappointed, discontent, and frustrated.

Somedays his morning would start well. The sun would fall on his face and wake him up with the feeling of having finished sleep. He would make his way through three rooms — out of the bedroom, into the bathroom, and finally to the coffee room, which is what normal people call a kitchen.

Water heated. Beans ground. Coffee steeped. Reality welcomed.

Then he’d set off for his day. Everything would be aight until it would happen.

He’d be talking to someone and the next thing he knew, he’d be frustrated with them, annoyed at them, and tired of them.

Then he’d go to work and see his boss and the next thing he knew, he’d be frustrated with her, annoyed at her, and tired of her.

And then he’d go to the organization he volunteered at and the next thing he knew, he’d be frustrated with everything, annoyed at everything, and tired of everything.

He’d go home — disappointed, discontent, and frustrated.

He couldn’t wait until tomorrow morning when he could heat the water, grind the beans, steep the coffee, and — once again — welcome reality.

As his mind thought about the beauty of that moment, he realized he had to visit the second room again — the bathroom. As he opened the door, closed the door, and locked the door, he saw himself in the mirror. He was tall, dark, and… what was that on his forehead?!

He had never noticed. Was it new? Was he that unaware? It looked like the bulb of a projector. He reached up to touch it and in that moment light burst forth — projecting right onto the mirror. In a perfect display of augmented reality he saw, before his eyes, himself, but different. It was a moving picture of a man who looked just like him — maybe it was him — but who’s eyes were filled with a feeling of disappointed, discontent, frustration.

Just looking at this man made him frustrated, annoyed, and tired.

He thought back to each of his bad days — his frustration with people, his work, his life. And as he remembered each of these moments, he’d notice the bulb burst forth with light, shining on each person, each boss, each day.

The coffee hadn’t worked.

He thought that he had welcomed reality, but each day it would become augmented as he would project his inner drama onto the world around him.

Each day, his eyes would eat up what his projector had spit out — leaving his stomach feeling disappointed, discontent, and frustrated with his own recycled film.


Hi, I’m Michael and this is my daily project where I write about diverse ideas.

This is Dose #117.

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