Bunny: A reincarnation story
Jul. 20th, 2024 10:21 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
author_by_nightNote: I decided to write about reincarnation for LJ Idol's "Without You" prompt. As a heads up, this does deal with grief.
I don't know who you are, but I sorely miss you.
I've missed you since I was a baby, constantly asking my parents about Bunny. This I don't remember; but my parents still talk about it. They were perplexed at the time; we didn't have a pet bunny. I had a stuffed bunny, but it wasn't one of my favorites, and it stayed in my room at all times. They would hear me crying for Bunny at night, calming me down with hushed whispers, with hugs and kisses and reassurances. I could never say, exactly, what or who Bunny was.
I don't remember any of it.
I do remember feeling incomplete, like something or someone was missing. I had a loving family - two sets of grandparents, parents, and a younger brother who idolized his big sister. Friends. Yet sometimes I felt a longing, a sense of great loss, as though there should have been someone next to me. You. You should have been with me.
When I was nine, I had a dream. Oh, how I wish I could tell you I remember every detail, but I do not. All I remember is that there was music and laughter, that we were happy. Then it all came to an abrupt halt; there were low voices, there was running, I woke up with tears streaming down my cheeks and a pounding heart.
I looked for you everywhere, from then on. I searched the faces of family, wondering if any of them could be you, if we'd been born at different times. I wondered about new friends. My first boyfriend. My first girlfriend. None of them were you. Lovely, for the most part, just. Not you. Never you.
I tried Past Life Regression in college, but it gave me a panic attack. I instead pondered in the safety of full consciousness. Were you a man or a woman? A lover? Friend? Sibling? Were you even named Bunny, or was that simply our connection, an animal or place? Was it a code?
Maybe I was never even saying Bunny. It could be that I was crying something else, something that came out as "Bunny" in my childish tongue, or even perhaps another language. Bonne nuit. Good night. That dream certainly comes to mind.
Little things gave me... jolts, you could say. I walked through a seaport town once, and it strongly reminded me of something. It was as though I'd been there before, or at least a place like it. The waterfront stores, the smell of the ocean, seagulls squaking over me. I knew this place well.
One time I saw a woman who looked familiar; she was crossing the street, and I knew her. Except I couldn't have possibly; I was miles from home. I wondered if she was you. She looked at me strangely, as though she also sensed a connection, but said nothing. I watched her disappear without a word, wondered if I'd lost you all over again.
I have to think that's not the case. I want to believe if we crossed paths, we would both know. We filled each other's lives with so much joy and hope; I know we would again, instantly.
The same is true of my brother; I believe we reincarnated together, we're close even for siblings, but I don't think he's you. Imagine if he were, if I'd had you the whole time. It would be tragically comic.
The word is irony. You said that, once. I remember it clear as day.
I'm forty now, and happily married with a child. Yet I always wonder about you. Where you are. Who you are. Perhaps you're still alive as I knew you, but much older; I sometimes fear you're in a home somewhere, wondering why I never came back for you, speaking what family and aides think is nonsense. Oh, that's too horrible to imagine. I must instead believe that you're happy, whether you continue to exist in what is my past, or have an existence parallel to my own.
It's strange, missing someone I can't name nor identify. There is no grave, there are no photos, there is no number to dial or house to visit. There is only the memory of a dream and the remnants of a conversation.
This may seem rather melancholy, but it's not all bad. In missing you, I know the power of love, how it transcends time, breaks through cycles of birth and rebirth. So: Wherever you are, whoever you are or may still be, thank you.
May we meet again.
End notes: This is loosely based on my own inklings about reincarnation, although I'm not as sure about it as our narrator. I did in fact have an anxiety attack when attempting past life regression, and I always felt someone was missing when I was a child, though the feeling faded in adulthood.
I don't know who you are, but I sorely miss you.
I've missed you since I was a baby, constantly asking my parents about Bunny. This I don't remember; but my parents still talk about it. They were perplexed at the time; we didn't have a pet bunny. I had a stuffed bunny, but it wasn't one of my favorites, and it stayed in my room at all times. They would hear me crying for Bunny at night, calming me down with hushed whispers, with hugs and kisses and reassurances. I could never say, exactly, what or who Bunny was.
I don't remember any of it.
I do remember feeling incomplete, like something or someone was missing. I had a loving family - two sets of grandparents, parents, and a younger brother who idolized his big sister. Friends. Yet sometimes I felt a longing, a sense of great loss, as though there should have been someone next to me. You. You should have been with me.
When I was nine, I had a dream. Oh, how I wish I could tell you I remember every detail, but I do not. All I remember is that there was music and laughter, that we were happy. Then it all came to an abrupt halt; there were low voices, there was running, I woke up with tears streaming down my cheeks and a pounding heart.
I looked for you everywhere, from then on. I searched the faces of family, wondering if any of them could be you, if we'd been born at different times. I wondered about new friends. My first boyfriend. My first girlfriend. None of them were you. Lovely, for the most part, just. Not you. Never you.
I tried Past Life Regression in college, but it gave me a panic attack. I instead pondered in the safety of full consciousness. Were you a man or a woman? A lover? Friend? Sibling? Were you even named Bunny, or was that simply our connection, an animal or place? Was it a code?
Maybe I was never even saying Bunny. It could be that I was crying something else, something that came out as "Bunny" in my childish tongue, or even perhaps another language. Bonne nuit. Good night. That dream certainly comes to mind.
Little things gave me... jolts, you could say. I walked through a seaport town once, and it strongly reminded me of something. It was as though I'd been there before, or at least a place like it. The waterfront stores, the smell of the ocean, seagulls squaking over me. I knew this place well.
One time I saw a woman who looked familiar; she was crossing the street, and I knew her. Except I couldn't have possibly; I was miles from home. I wondered if she was you. She looked at me strangely, as though she also sensed a connection, but said nothing. I watched her disappear without a word, wondered if I'd lost you all over again.
I have to think that's not the case. I want to believe if we crossed paths, we would both know. We filled each other's lives with so much joy and hope; I know we would again, instantly.
The same is true of my brother; I believe we reincarnated together, we're close even for siblings, but I don't think he's you. Imagine if he were, if I'd had you the whole time. It would be tragically comic.
The word is irony. You said that, once. I remember it clear as day.
I'm forty now, and happily married with a child. Yet I always wonder about you. Where you are. Who you are. Perhaps you're still alive as I knew you, but much older; I sometimes fear you're in a home somewhere, wondering why I never came back for you, speaking what family and aides think is nonsense. Oh, that's too horrible to imagine. I must instead believe that you're happy, whether you continue to exist in what is my past, or have an existence parallel to my own.
It's strange, missing someone I can't name nor identify. There is no grave, there are no photos, there is no number to dial or house to visit. There is only the memory of a dream and the remnants of a conversation.
This may seem rather melancholy, but it's not all bad. In missing you, I know the power of love, how it transcends time, breaks through cycles of birth and rebirth. So: Wherever you are, whoever you are or may still be, thank you.
May we meet again.
End notes: This is loosely based on my own inklings about reincarnation, although I'm not as sure about it as our narrator. I did in fact have an anxiety attack when attempting past life regression, and I always felt someone was missing when I was a child, though the feeling faded in adulthood.
