The stranger looked around Jon's bedroom.
"Where am I?" the stranger shrugged. "Not familiar at all. I can't remember who I am. Why can't I remember?"
"Ah," the stranger found the rock still in hand. "My wishing rock. I remember you, at least."
The stranger made a wish, unaware that their wish would be twisted and then twisted again.
"I wish to know who I am."
The stone flashed.
