An old lighthouse keeper kept the tower lanterns burning for thirty long years. Yet, hardly any ships could be seen, neither entering the horizon nor leaving the coast. Frustrated by decades of seemingly fruitless labor and depressed with life, the keeper one day extinguished the flames and went to bed early. Now awaiting for permission to die, he dreamed of a raging storm; white lightning ripped the blackened sky asunder as ocean and hail pounded the lighthouse and surrounding town. The pounding however was real, as the keeper awoke in the middle of the night to the sound of fists and voices at his door. Many townsfolk, who used the lighthouse for navigating the dark streets after dusk were concerned that the old man had fallen ill or died. The keeper apologized, donned on his glasses which turned a bit misty and relit the lighthouse flames.