The Two-Body Dream

A woman I didn’t know was outside, speaking about our bodies. White but tanned, middle-aged and slender, I slowed, then stopped, listening to her. She said that we all have body and blah, blah, blah.

I interrupted. “No, I have two bodies.”

“Well,” she began, defensiveness edging into her voice, “yes, we do but, blah, blah, blah.”

At that point, I brought up my second body. It was a little grayed out, with some fuzziness, and the color danced like a drunk guy trying dance moves, but it was there. In most appearances, it was like me but about an inch taller and a teaspoon thicker in the shoulders. We were wearing the same clothes, a yellow buttoned shirt, short-sleeved, not tucked in, with khaki shorts, and we were barefoot.

The woman stammered about how that was impossible. I said, “Yet, here it is.” She went on with a drying, confused voice that two bodies cannot exist in the same plane. I answered, “No, he’s in the other world. That’s where he exists and why he looks a little uneven. But the thing is, the other world is here. So he’s in the other world, but the other world is here. Meanwhile, I’m in the this world, which is the other world to him, and he’s explaining this to you as I’m doing here. Clear?”

Then I laughed because her confused look explained it wasn’t clear, and woke up.