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For a long time, he felt like his chance would never come again. Virtually everyone in his cohort was recycled, some more than once, before he was and he knew it wasn’t a karmic thing, just the luck of the draw. Maybe.
When he finally got back, he was an ‘old soul’ in a brand new body, a tiny, weak little thing, he had forgotten that, and female this time, a little baby girl.
His parents seemed nice enough. She, Mom, was very sweet and actually rather pretty even though her hair was shorter than he was used to seeing on women. She talked loudly, too. Dad was delightful, he was pretty sure he had been his Aunt Anna the last time he was in, but of course Dad didn’t know that and actually, the resemblance was fading even for Danny.
By the time he got old enough to talk in this language, which had a flat, staccato rhythm and some really stupid sounding words (‘Nursery’? ‘Colic’? ‘Potty’?), no one looked familiar to him anymore. He realized that he was becoming just like them now although he didn’t really have a clear image anymore of what ‘not being them’ had been like.
Still, it filled him with a strange longing and a deep nagging curiosity, especially at night, before sleep. During sleep, too. Strange monsters lurked in the closet and under the bed. He knew he had seen them before, long before, but when he tried to talk to his parents about it he saw that they had been separated from their real worlds too many years before. They did not remember. They couldn’t help. When they tried to help, they just lied about everything with an off-putting certainty – dismissing people and events that came back to him through the fog, telling him he had not heard the sounds he clearly heard, as if he was too young to know what his own experience was.
Sadly, he wasn’t too young but instead was already too old. He was like the man who dreams he is a tiger. In the morning, he wakes up, rested and refreshed, he takes off his pajamas, showers, dresses for the day, grabs coffee, runs to the bus. His day passes very much like it always does, work, lunch with co-workers, texts to his girlfriend, plans for the evening to come. But somewhere. in the tiniest corner of his being, something of the tiger remains.

Back to blog

For a long time, he felt like his chance would never come again. Virtually everyone in his cohort was recycled, some more than once, before he was and he knew it wasn’t a karmic thing, just the luck of the draw. Maybe.
When he finally got back, he was an ‘old soul’ in a brand new body, a tiny, weak little thing, he had forgotten that, and female this time, a little baby girl.
His parents seemed nice enough. She, Mom, was very sweet and actually rather pretty even though her hair was shorter than he was used to seeing on women. She talked loudly, too. Dad was delightful, he was pretty sure he had been his Aunt Anna the last time he was in, but of course Dad didn’t know that and actually, the resemblance was fading even for Danny.
By the time he got old enough to talk in this language, which had a flat, staccato rhythm and some really stupid sounding words (‘Nursery’? ‘Colic’? ‘Potty’?), no one looked familiar to him anymore. He realized that he was becoming just like them now although he didn’t really have a clear image anymore of what ‘not being them’ had been like.
Still, it filled him with a strange longing and a deep nagging curiosity, especially at night, before sleep. During sleep, too. Strange monsters lurked in the closet and under the bed. He knew he had seen them before, long before, but when he tried to talk to his parents about it he saw that they had been separated from their real worlds too many years before. They did not remember. They couldn’t help. When they tried to help, they just lied about everything with an off-putting certainty – dismissing people and events that came back to him through the fog, telling him he had not heard the sounds he clearly heard, as if he was too young to know what his own experience was.
Sadly, he wasn’t too young but instead was already too old. He was like the man who dreams he is a tiger. In the morning, he wakes up, rested and refreshed, he takes off his pajamas, showers, dresses for the day, grabs coffee, runs to the bus. His day passes very much like it always does, work, lunch with co-workers, texts to his girlfriend, plans for the evening to come. But somewhere. in the tiniest corner of his being, something of the tiger remains.