Why Am I Here?

What could cause a man to wake early, a smile on his face, hours ahead of schedule?
What could open his eyes, calm and wide, content with his condition?

In his dream, he finds himself employed, respected and admired, tended to by interested women, well dressed and smiling, whose interests lie in arranging for him exotic vacations in sunny locations.

He claims he needs no vacations, yet still they do their best for him.
Apparently it is their job. They enjoy doing it. They effortlessly give the impression that there is nothing they would rather be doing.

He considers stepping out for a walk, but is bemused by the instant availability of a chauffeur-driven limousine. He decides to further investigate exactly what it is, that he is so handsomely rewarded for doing.

He looks around for his employer, to ask if there is something he should be engaged with.
But his employer is busy, right now, doing whatever it is he does, to furnish his smiling employees with such lavish rewards.

The women joke, among themselves, and without malice, about the wage paid to the man in his previous position. He overhears them, considering the amount that so amuses them, as perfectly adequate for his needs. He does not quite get their point.
Neither has he any recollection of what he did before this.

He wanders around, warm, comfortable, yet strangely at a loss.
He is not sure why he is there, and what his function is.

Until finally, he understands, he is not there to do.
He is there to be.