Another Soul Story

I prefer fiction to most realities, but the following is not fiction, except for my interpretation. For someone who does not believe in the existence of the soul, I have been writing quite a bit about it in the past few years and a lot about it in my Greece-related series.

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It was another lonely night in Athens, so after submitting my story, I Hate You: I Said to My Soul, at 12:05 (midnight, with the five for Goddess Athena), I decided to go to bed, which was exceptionally early for me since I usually get tired of consciousness at around 2 a.m., and still persevere until I see the 3.

I tossed and turned a couple of times and fell asleep at around 12:30. It was September 13th but only a Tuesday. I was awaken at around 4:30, since when it was all over, the time was 4:38. It was still dark outside, save a rather dim streetlight and perhaps some faint illumination from the seemingly smiling Moon.

Across from me, between the other side of the queen-sized bed and the open bedroom door, I saw the profile of someone somewhat tall, a dark figure standing, a bit bending, in the direction of the door. I looked at it for a number of seconds, noticing long hair held together with a band or a string and some kind of robe covering it from its neck down.

It moved its head up and down as if to say hello but made no sound. I was not afraid but I let out a low-level scream, asking: Well, who are you? or something similar. I cannot remember my exact words. As soon as my words ceased the silence, it disappeared. It did not walk away but vanished into dark air.

I got up, went to the washroom and then walked around the rest of my two-bedroom apartment. I was alone. I went back to bed and slept for a few more hours, awaking a few times until the door intercom ringed to announce the delivery of some organic beef jerky.

I thought about it a few times during the day, trying to understand what had occurred. It was not a dream because I was wide awake when I saw the figure. I was not afraid, so it was not a nightmare either. I then entertained that it must have been my wandering soul going back to the woman I loved after having been insulted and rejected too many times. Even the idea of a soul disgusts me.

I am still alive, so we may be able to live without it, especially if it was indeed my soul. I could not find any other explanation, except for one from science fiction, namely, someone from a different dimension. None of these hypotheses make sense to me. My niece thinks that it may have been my guardian angel. Maybe it saved me from some event in my sleep.

I will ask it to identify itself if it returns tonight or at some other time, and I will surely try my best not to scream or shout. Perhaps all I have to do is whisper: Are you my soul?

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It is over a year later, and it never returned. Perhaps it is still in Greece, waiting for me to return. However, home is where love is, and my love lives in North America. I dedicate this strange story to her, as we both live in strange times. Her name is Penelope Israel. I love her beyond measure.

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Floyd Cramer - Heart and Soul