Does anyone recall Let’s Pretend, the regular radio show on Saturday mornings? I do and it was a highlight of my week. So, I’ve decided to escape to Pretend Land, via fiction.

My heart stopped in more ways than one when suddenly I could no longer hear the overhead fan. My son was holding my hand–or I, his–and I sensed rushing fluid in my veins, as though I was urinating inside myself. I had formerly wondered what dying was like, so I opened myself to experiencing the process, hoping to pair words with it when…when what?

My former ears were silent, but I sensed echos–of what? What was going on? I am picking up speed… How long have I been traveling, inside? Briefly I feel like I am in an MMPI…no, make that an MRI, followed by a real loss of consciousness. I blanked out what I now presume to have been Judgment Day, and now only sense…or hear …or experience…the sound of a baby bawling…

Reincarnation! How interesting! I do recall learning that my un-announced return was to be in the person of my own great-grandson, whose name is Marvin. Image–person–what does it matter what I’m called, but I also sense that my new monicker will be Marvin, for some reason. Does mind over matter matter? I never thought so. I always believed that fairy tale religion was not for me, but what now is the alternative?

Some kind of make-believe is clearly preferable to current reality without Fact Check. I am being drawn to an Alternate Reality–not by books but by experienced reality and my heart. Perhaps mind over matter does matter, at least on this planet where so many are selling their souls to the Devil…[a metaphor or cliche?] … We’re paying Peter to peeter, throwing each other under the bus, denying truth while lying, and making a mockery of motherhood. And selling our the planet for even more filthy lucre.

As my journey continues I try to focus on what lessons I have to learn during my reincarnational journey. I wish I had studied the protocol for this extension of my life i.e., having a chance to straighten myself out and hopefully me as Marvin, too. Well, the easiest lesson I could learn and share with Marvin is to keep my promises. They are much easier to make than keep.

Rearing children is a biggie. I was damaged by my parents but don’t want to point fingers–behavior goes back and back through generations. Truth often lives in the shadows and rarely fully emerges. The parenting–his and mine—-is sobering. His bawling alerts me to the passage of time. How weird this all is. How I wish I could remember being judged at the heavenly gates, if that’s what happened. It doesn’t seem like being an agnostic slowed down anything.

As I’m being gentled through time I imagine being interviewed by a female Times reporter:

“Are you male or female?”

“Oh, er, the real me or the transistioned me?”

“So there;s a difference?”

“I don’t know, lady, I’ve never done this before.” (But I guess I had.)

“You sound kinda like a man.”

“Yeah, I do, don’t I”

“So where are you now?”

“I’m not sure but I think I just died and am being reincarnated–in a man’s body, maybe in the body of my great grandson.”

“Hmm…Guess you’re not copyrighted?” Now curious, I tried to look her over, but no luck. She just looked a-quiver.

Hmn. I quivered. What would I experience if I looked in a mirror myself? I didn’t try.

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