Strange days have tracked us down

The thought that came to me as I settled in for a nap this afternoon: What would it be like to find out that your significant other, the one you know is about to merge with you into the deepest, truest love of your lifetime, is actually the spirit of your deceased dog? That was the thought.

I considered the question. What would it be like? First of all, let's establish how it came to my awareness that the love of my life was actually my deceased dog in the guise of a human. How about this? One morning, after several hours of inspired lovemaking, my beloved slides close to my ear and confesses her true nature. That she does it then is a mercy; I'm soft and relaxed and less likely to lose my shit. Still, I'm utterly perplexed and slightly panic stricken when she shares all sorts of details about my dog and the things we did together that she should not have any business knowing about.

So what would I do? You can never be completely sure how you're going to react in any situation, but I think I would first spend some time exploring the possibility that she was putting one over on me. Christ, I should hope so! Let's give me two solid days of thorough inquiry. Anything? No, nothing. Okay, now I have to resign myself to the fact that I used to pick up my other half's shit.

Would I end the relationship? Could I? That's a tough one. Knowing she was once my dog would be a difficult obstacle to surmount, but as long as she didn't constantly remind me of this, I think I could adjust. In fact, I bet after some time I'd almost forget she was once my pet. She'd be human in every way with no memory of her past life (I should have established earlier that when she spoke into my ear and changed my life forever she had been asleep; it was her subconscious that did the talking). And don't forget we're soul mates. I'm not privy to the what's behind the esoteric veil; I don't how and why the Universe operates. The whole bag is a big fucking mystery, so why couldn't it be the case that I'm in love with my dog? Anyway, it's not as if we had a contentious relationship. We were quite fond of each other.

Ah, let's not proceed further down this bizarre rabbit's hole; I tire of it and you've probably had your fill of what you've clearly misidentified as a sick fantasy. I agree it's not a comfortable topic, but in my opinion it's a worthy one to pontificate over. It's important we prepare our selves for every situation, however unlikely.

Today has been a strange one, if that hasn't already been made evident, and to further illustrate it's nature, I'm about to go meditate for as long as I can and then watch The Exorcist.  Before bed I'll read from The Trial. My dreams will probably be absolute horror shows, but what are you going to do. I'm sleepy; Craig's party at The Cape was yesterday and each of us revelers was our own Dionysus. It went late into the wee hours. I'll recount the experience in another post, but only if you take me out dancing.

Now off with you. Tell yourself you are holy - look into the mirror and say it - every morning and every night. Do it for a week and report back to me. I predict you will be as light as a feather and soaked in cosmic bliss. At the very least, you'll have stopped being such a dick.