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Lucid Lupus

One time Alex made the regrettable decision of telling her girlfriend at the time that she growls in her sleep. Really this only happened a couple of times, that she can remember, but it has been known to happen. Like how some people wake themselves with their own snoring (she does that too), Alex is sometimes rattled awake by a strange sound that turns out to be her. Growling. You know, like a dog.

She's also made the mistake of telling a previous girlfriend (not the one she told about the growling, a different one) that when she runs in her dreams, it's on all fours. This is true, and always has been, but maybe still not something you should tell people. It's an uncomfortable feeling though, having something so interesting to talk about, and think about, but being heavily encouraged to do neither.

The two girlfriends she told about the dog stuff aren't around anymore.

Oh yeah, Alex thinks she's a dog. Not like "an ugly girl" kind of dog, like how they say, but a dog. You know, like inside. She kind of always thought this, especially factoring in the growling, and the running, and the teeth (we'll get to that later) but what clenched it for her was the psychic.

A long time ago, like a handful or so years ago, Alex went into an incense store to waste time so she wouldn't be too early for a thing she had to go to, and there was a psychic there. The sign in front of her table said "free reading with purchase." The F, R, W, and P drawn in dopey spiderweb script, like you'd expect to see in this situation. Alex bought some palo santo and then waited in a short line for her reading, curious what would be said about her. Once seated at the table, and after a few introductory bullshit things like "you'll lead a really long, satisfying life of adventure," it happened.

"Did you know that you used to be a dog in all of your past lives, and that this is your first time on earth as a human?" The psychic said, holding both of Alex's hands in her own.

At that moment Alex experienced such profound validation that she could barely concentrate on what else the psychic said. She did hear something about not having kids, but marrying someone who did have lots of them, which she couldn't imagine would turn out to be true.

That night she had the most amazing dream. She was sitting on the edge of a bed located in a home she hadn't lived in for many years. She was facing large sliding glass doors that were open to the backyard, but covered with thin white curtains. As she watched the curtains suck in and out of the open space, getting glimpses of the grass beyond, a dog of hers, Baby, that had died a long time ago walked up and put its head on her leg. When this happened one of her teeth (she doesn't know the name of the tooth. She doesn't know about teeth like that) grew long, passing her lips, and then fell out. It just fell right out of her mouth.

She used to bite that dog's ear, when it was alive. She was a little girl then, she didn't know what she was doing, or why. But she'd do it. She'd take the velvety tip of Baby's ear in her mouth and bite it, just hard enough to make her cry out. And then she'd do it again, because the sound made her so sad she just had to hear it more. She couldn't believe how sad it made her feel. To hear it.