I had a dream. I don’t remember what it was exactly, except for that in it, I was walking backwards across a field to try to get to two men who were having a conversation without startling them.
And that was the question the older one asked of the younger one: Is there anything soft left of you?
It woke me up. I felt like I had eavesdropped by accident on a question the Universe had for someone else.
Dreams are strange. Over the holidays I kept having this dream that I was introducing people to a very casual acquaintance of mine (I like him, but don’t really know him and our lives intersect maybe once every 18 months.) as “my old husband.” Not, “ex-husband.” “Old husband.” Like we’d been married in some other life.
When I was in college, I knew a guy I always felt I’d known already. Getting to know him, I experienced it all the time as “Oh, I forgot you did that.”
I don’t know. Brains are weird. They do their own things, make their own connections. I don’t think I really believe in reincarnation, but sometimes I wonder.
So, who knows? Maybe once someone asked that of me–is there anything soft left of you?–and now all there is is softness and yielding and giving way.