Reasons to Live
6
When I am aware of myself again, it is night, and the stars tread the waters of the sky above me, the lights down with me obscuring the stars beneath the most immediate surface. For a moment, I am disoriented, feeling like I viewed the stars from above, like city lights from a plane. But the world on which I look is shrouded in mist, leaving only the brightest and closest to be seen by the likes of a small bird like me.
The world snaps into focus. A groan tears through me, and for the first time since I died, I feel tired, exhausted. Usually, in the night, there is a glow to my form, but now I have to almost squint just to see my hands before my face.
“Are you back?”
I flinch from the volume, the surprise of his voice, catapulting me back into the here and now like a paperclip shot from a rubber band. Around me, my sense of my surroundings blurs together, and my hands disappear to me.
“No!” I cry, but my voice is a whisper in a gale, a bug in a hurricane.
“You are,” Dopey sighs, and I know then that there is something wrong with my ghostly self, because he sounds relieved. “It’s okay, just focus on here, and you’ll come to yourself in a sec. Okay? Can you hear me?”
“Go away.” I am a bird in the twister, singing defiance to no ear.
“No, Chicky, just focus, please,” he begs me. My hand tingles, and I realize dimly that my hand, now dangling an arm’s length beneath me, has Dopey’s fingers through it, as if he’s trying to hold it. Indignation flickers like a bad lightbulb, and I try to pull away.
“I am not your Chicky.”
“No you’re not,” he agrees, too readily. “Just stay with me, please.”
I shudder, and it pulls me to a more fetal position. My hand passes easily through his on its way to me, and I see it flash with my pain. The relief at seeing myself again burns from my very center, grounding me, and it pulses more steadily until I’m back to my usual frequency, shining like a blue-white flame.
My elation is short lived.
“Are you okay?” Beneath me, Dopey is staring up at me, looking much too happy. I suddenly hope that my regained light didn’t come with wings and a halo.
“Fine,” I say defensively. He still looks like somebody returned his lost dog. Assuming he has a dog. Maybe a cat. Or some kind of red-eyed rat.
“I thought I lost you,” he confides to me.
“Whoa there.” I glare down at him now. “What are you on now, that makes you sound like you came out of some cheesy romance novel?”
“What?” He blinks stupidly at me. “No, that’s not what I meant,” he follows up, waving his hand. “I thought you’d disappeared.”
“I thought that’s what you wanted,” I accuse.
“No, no,” he assures me, looking pale. “Not like that.”
“Oh?” I float off my branch, but remain a few feet off the ground so that I can still effectively loom over him. “And how was I supposed to disappear? With a bang? With much hugging and kissing and thank yous for you being such a jerk?”
“No!” His normal face is returning, albeit a more angry, indignant version. “You disappear angry like that, and it’s possible that you won’t show up again. Your soul would have ceased to exist.”
The world snaps into focus. A groan tears through me, and for the first time since I died, I feel tired, exhausted. Usually, in the night, there is a glow to my form, but now I have to almost squint just to see my hands before my face.
“Are you back?”
I flinch from the volume, the surprise of his voice, catapulting me back into the here and now like a paperclip shot from a rubber band. Around me, my sense of my surroundings blurs together, and my hands disappear to me.
“No!” I cry, but my voice is a whisper in a gale, a bug in a hurricane.
“You are,” Dopey sighs, and I know then that there is something wrong with my ghostly self, because he sounds relieved. “It’s okay, just focus on here, and you’ll come to yourself in a sec. Okay? Can you hear me?”
“Go away.” I am a bird in the twister, singing defiance to no ear.
“No, Chicky, just focus, please,” he begs me. My hand tingles, and I realize dimly that my hand, now dangling an arm’s length beneath me, has Dopey’s fingers through it, as if he’s trying to hold it. Indignation flickers like a bad lightbulb, and I try to pull away.
“I am not your Chicky.”
“No you’re not,” he agrees, too readily. “Just stay with me, please.”
I shudder, and it pulls me to a more fetal position. My hand passes easily through his on its way to me, and I see it flash with my pain. The relief at seeing myself again burns from my very center, grounding me, and it pulses more steadily until I’m back to my usual frequency, shining like a blue-white flame.
My elation is short lived.
“Are you okay?” Beneath me, Dopey is staring up at me, looking much too happy. I suddenly hope that my regained light didn’t come with wings and a halo.
“Fine,” I say defensively. He still looks like somebody returned his lost dog. Assuming he has a dog. Maybe a cat. Or some kind of red-eyed rat.
“I thought I lost you,” he confides to me.
“Whoa there.” I glare down at him now. “What are you on now, that makes you sound like you came out of some cheesy romance novel?”
“What?” He blinks stupidly at me. “No, that’s not what I meant,” he follows up, waving his hand. “I thought you’d disappeared.”
“I thought that’s what you wanted,” I accuse.
“No, no,” he assures me, looking pale. “Not like that.”
“Oh?” I float off my branch, but remain a few feet off the ground so that I can still effectively loom over him. “And how was I supposed to disappear? With a bang? With much hugging and kissing and thank yous for you being such a jerk?”
“No!” His normal face is returning, albeit a more angry, indignant version. “You disappear angry like that, and it’s possible that you won’t show up again. Your soul would have ceased to exist.”