From The Alchemy, issue 7.
Old Lady: Then I saw that there are doors. And through the doors are rooms of knowledge. Like different rooms in a house.
Each room has a different story happening in it. Like it is a different life. Like you are in a book of doors.
If you haven't learned everything you were supposed to, you have to go through another door so you can learn more. Or so someone can learn from you.
I passed by many doors and looked through them. It was like I could see into other people's lives. Like each life is a little story happening in this book at the same time.
I passed by these doors until I came to a door I could not see into. It was closed. I had a great urge to go into this door. But when I tried I could not pass.
And then a voice said that I do not have enough knowledge to pass through that door. I was told that my work in my current room wasn't finished.
And then I woke up in the hospital. I had pulled through the surgery.
I've had two surgeries since and that has happened every time. I get to the door and I can't pass through. And then I wake up in pain. In this meat suit. In this silly human costume.
When I wake up, I always think that next time it happens, I hope I have learned enough to pass through the door.
Kabuki: I wonder...
Old Lady: I'm tired.
Kabuki: I wonder if that is what...
Old Lady: I'm taking a nap now.
Kabuki: If that is what my mother went through.
And she was gone. She had passed. She had moved on right before my eyes.