Lately, we’ve been on the same wavelength in slightly eerie, but mostly sweet, ways. Like how he’ll dream of a specific situation that I wake up in the morning drawn to. Or how we’ll both blurt out “thanks for cleaning the apartment” and “thank you for putting your stuff up” at the same time. Or how I’ll be thinking about Billie’s body image issues and he’ll suddenly sing Ocean Eyes and play Billie on Spotify.
Or how I’ll be daydreaming in the car about how my friend made us a cheese board in the city and he’ll blurt, “remember that time we went to the city?” Or how I’ll announce that I need protein in the form of a spicy chicken sandwich and he’ll tell me how, actually, he bought two for lunch, and couldn’t finish one, so I could have the one in the back, it’s in the bag.
It’s eerie but sweet and reinforces my belief that we’re all connected, like blades of grass in a field or fish in the ocean. I think of the thoughts and feelings we put into the world as tangible ripples in the water, and how these waves pollute spaces outside of ourself. We think our thoughts are our own, but they’re not, not always. We think our feelings are our own, but they’re not, not always. There’s some sort of action, reaction, rinse and repeat going on. Tic tac telepathy.
It’s the same reason lifeguards manically clear out kiddie pools when a floating dookie is found. The dookie, although intact, spreads to all parts of the pool, posing a hazard to every swimmer. These allegorical dookies are our urges, our emotions, our fears, our tendencies, our wounds. As fishies in water, constantly spitting dookies, we produce, we absorb, and we spread this in the water, sometimes unconsciously, sometimes consciously, often in the most minuscule and mundane of ways, like saying thank you at the same time.