It was a grim, lonely day at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I did not have anyone to go with, so I decided to visit to the museum alone. Walking through the museum, I was in awe at all of the paintings and other works of art that I lied my eyes upon. The wide array of art that is available at the museum to view astounded me. It wasn’t until I hit certain painting where I stopped. Beforehand, I was just drifting through the museum without really taking an in depth look to a certain work of art. That all changed when I saw La Grenouillére, a painting done by Claude Monet in 1869.

This painting was inherently captivating to me, but it seemed like everyone else in the museum seemed to just pass it by like I had done with every other painting beforehand. The painting seemed like it was trying to send me a message. I looked deeper into the painting, trying to figure out what this all meant. A few seconds later I felt my soul leave my body, and I entered the painting.

I found myself overlooking a breathtaking pond, beautiful in its aspect. The trees are full of color, and the water is a shimmering blue. The sounds of French men and women talking seemed to fit perfectly to the scene. The sky was clear with one lonely cloud drifting through the air, just like I had been drifting alone through the museum moments before getting sucked into the painting.

Almost immediately a man starts to speak to me in French and pulls me over to his group, as if I was great friends with all of them. He starts saying, “Est-ce que vous voulez un verre de vin?” I was quite confused, but decided to take the drink anyway. I sat there quietly, listening to them speak and talk to each other. I had taken some French at university, but my listening skills were far superior to my ability to speak. If someone would ask me a question, I would give vague answers such as “oui” and “je ne sais pas” After I finished my tasteful glass of wine, I felt the same feeling as before. It felt like something was trying to send me a message. Before I could even ponder about the situation, I found myself back at the Metropolitan Museum of Art looking at La Grenouillére.

The glass that I drank wine in was still in my hands as I continued to meditate on the bizarre events that just happened to me. Was I just imagining things? Or did some weird phenomenon happen where I was sucked into the Monet painting and brought back in time to 19th century France? The smell of wine still lingered from within the glass. Everyone around me was walking around the museum as if nothing had happened. Soon enough, I felt a tap on my shoulder.

“Est-ce que vous voulez un verre de vin?” the man said. It was the same man from within the painting.

I did not answer. I walked away from him. Expeditiously.