Thursday morning driving to work. Traffic jams all over the place. The ideal time to catch up on the latest gossip with my favourite telephone voice, Dorothy Gale.
“Re-inventing yourself isn’t easy,” I sigh into my handsfree earphones. “I need some clues. Some keys.”
“OK, I will help you next week,” Dorothy promises.
“Ooh that’s so sweet of you!” I purr down the phone. “But why would you do that? Do you love me in some strange way?”
“Yes,” is all Dorothy has to answer.
“The same way as you love Joti?” I ask her a bit in defence. I love Joti dearly too. Yet feel the poignant need to measure how much her love is for me, in comparison to somebody else.
“Nooo…” Dorothy draws out her answer slowly, giving her more time to think. “We have walked this earth together in some form before. Joti is my daughter. Who do you want to be?”
“Ooooh so strange! I was always worried that Willem was the re-incarnation of my nasty biological father, Graham. But he can’t be because he’s such a happy soul.” I jump straight in on this subject as it has been playing on my mind for ages now, but never found the appropriate moment to discuss it with Dorothy. “And people have remarked that Willem and I have been here before. It’s so obvious.”
“Graham was a once off,” Dorothy reassures me. “That mould is broken. His sons will be the last.”
“Anyways, I found out who Willem is when I visited my mother in hospital last week!” I tell her cheerily.
“Your mother was in hospital?” Dorothy interrupts.
“Yes, I received a message from my Auntie June, that’s my mom’s sister, telling me my mom was in hospital with pneumonia.” I recount the story to Dorothy.
“Your Aunt sent you a message?” Dorothy sounds disgusted. “And couldn’t your mother have informed you herself? What’s this for rubbish?”
“She said she was scared I wouldn’t let the children visit her during her once-a-month-court-ordered visit.” I go on to explain.
“Nooo, that war is long gone now,” Dorothy spits. “Why does she keep hanging on to that for? Is it to make people feel sorry for her?”
“Anyway, she looked good when I visited her in hospital,” I tell her. “So I sent a message back to my Aunt to inform her my mom was looking good. At which I receive a message back from her asking if I’m sure my mom looked good, because they spoke the evening before and apparently my mom sounded terrible. Dying, or almost.”
“Yeah, she’s just creating drama again.” Dorothy hisses. “Needs more attention. Typical for someone with a narcissistic disorder like hers.”
“I’m always surprised how we manage to see through all of her manipulations, but others don’t.” I ponder. “Especially the family in England. You’d think she’s a saint or something.”
“No darling, far from.” Dorothy susses. “It’s Freudian. People only see what they want to see.”
“Anyway, the big reveal is that Willem is my grandad reincarnated!” I almost sing it out. “He has come to help me stand strong.”
“What made you jump to that conclusion?” Dorothy wants to know.
“Willem was born on 6/06/16 at 21:21” I tell her proudly.
“Wonder why he chose you to be his mother?” Dorothy partly ignores my magic numbers.
“My grandad was born on 11/11/1922!” I shout out triumphantly. And because I get no immediate reaction, I answer her question: “Because he loved me dearly.”
“Willem is from 1666.” Dorothy whispers down the phone.
“And he doesn’t agree with what my mother is doing to me.” I go on. “Willem is my grandad.”
I wait for Dorothy’s reaction and giggle. I know she isn’t really buying it. So I add some fuel to the fire: “I can be your granny if you want. I’ve got granny pants and I do granny nail polish too. How does that sound?”
“I hated my granny,” Dorothy whispers.
“You don’t particularly like me,” I retort.
“No you can’t be my granny,” Dorothy pouts. “You’re too sexy in any case.”
“Come on, your granny must have had some appeal else she wouldn’t have had babies,” I point out to her.
“I guess so but not for me,” Dorothy is sounding real sour grapes all the way down the telephone line.
“Why didn’t you like her?” I enquire. “And who do I remind you of then? Or what kind of feeling?”
“She was a bad listener, my grandmother was,” Dorothy tells me and I can just imagine her nose all curled up. “You remind me of Fiona. The one that got away.”
“Well I am Fiona,” I laugh at her. “Not sure about the listening part though.”
“You are?” Dorothy all dubiously.
“Euh yes…” I’m sure she’s making fun of me now.
“You are in my fantasy,” Dorothy dreams on.
Now at this point I’m starting to find it a little bit creepy, because I’m not into girls. And for as far as I was aware, neither is Dorothy. She’s clearly a woman who likes men. Very clearly.
“We were in love in a previous life but both of us promised to another and therefore ours was an impossible love,” I’m starting to sound over romantic and terribly dramatic. “Like Romeo and Juliette.”
Dorothy answers with growing distrust in her voice.
“Or just your imaginary friend come to life,” I’m still trying to save the day for this insane conversation.
“I guess so. Or you let me down,” Dorothy finally gives in. “Maybe you were too good last time. Or I let you down.”
“That sounds more like it,” and I can’t help myself from cackling.
“Or something,” Dorothy’s breathing is going wild through the receiver. “Maybe you were a witch in the 14th century.”
“What happened in 1666?” I want to know, as I can’t let go that Dorothy predicted that my baby Willem was from 1666.
“Hastings,” Dorothy answers nonchalantly.
What do you think? Do you believe in reincarnation? Let me know in the comments below.