Hello Kitten

Good morning and welcome back to The Circular Journey. I'm happy you're here. I have something I'd like to discuss with you, and what I have to share begins with mornings, as do most things.

When I wake each morning, I’m not fully awake for the first second or two. I’m conscious, of course, but not fully tuned in to the world. I’m in a different state of mind. The same is true for you—it’s a universal experience.

A few days ago, in that first hazy moment, I was greeted by a voice in my head, but it wasn’t my voice. It was far too bizarre to belong to me. My immediate thought was: What the hell?

“Hello, Kitten,” is what the voice said. I thought it odd, but didn't dwell on it long. I simply wrote it off as just one of those things.

A few days later, I was greeted by an even stranger voice: “Hello, I’m Claudia from Sweden.” This time, the voice was part of a vivid waking dream. This Swedish Claudia met me in an airport lobby. She seemed nice enough--friendly and smiling--though I’m unclear on her travel itinerary.

A few days later, the morning voice ratcheted up the absurdity: “Columbia’s wife,” it said. No dream vision this time. This morning, I heard the most bizarre greeting yet, “Dong Dien,” said the voice. I know! A foreign language! 

I Googled it and found a village in Vietnam inside the Pu Luong Nature Reserve near hiking trails leading to mountain peaks. Go figure. What next? 

By now, I’d had enough. I enjoy writing about silliness and absurdities, but there's a limit. I decided to confront this nonsense head-on. When the final message came, I didn’t respond politely. “Who are you?” I demanded. I didn't expect an answer, but I got one.

“The better question, my friend, is: Who are you?” said a voice. But this time, it wasn’t the original voice. This voice belonged to Princess Amy. (If you’re unfamiliar with Amy, you can find her in previous posts. Just use the search bar on the blog’s homepage—you’re welcome.)

Well, I knew better than to expect sensible answers from Amy, and I resented her getting involved. 

“My friends know me as Genome,” I said, delivering the line in the coldest, most imperious tone I could muster. And believe me, that’s saying something.

At this point, I realized I might never get a straight answer—and perhaps I didn’t want one. Life is complicated enough without allowing Swedish airport ambassadors and unsolicited royal commentary into the mix. 

If those voices return tomorrow morning, I’m taking action. I will no longer tolerate philosophy before coffee. And if Princess Amy insists on butting in, she’d better bring donuts.