last year i was in contact with a man i'll call Fred, a friend of a friend, who wanted a ghost writer. in our phone interview, he revealed he had been born a hermaphrodite, and had been raised the first several years of his life as a girl. the project never materialized, and we lost touch. recently, i'd tried to email him, but it was returned.
(prior to this, i had finished a novel in which my main character, Robin, is androgynous, and i'd done research into androgyny and ambiguous sexuality/gender.)
a couple weeks ago i had a dream. i was being handed a newborn baby girl, presumably mine. she was wrapped in a towel. as i cleaned her off with a second towel, she spoke. "my name is Karen," she said. "i am a hermaphrodite." the dream made me think i should contact Fred, but i wasn't sure if i had his number.
when i got up i was cleaning my desk drawer and just happened to come across Fred's number. i called it, but it had been disconnected, so i called our mutual friend in Iowa and left her a voice mail that i needed Fred's number.
later that day i gave a postcard with my book cover (a depiction of my birthplace, Seattle) to my chiropractor, i then went to see my acupuncturist who trained in Seattle.
walking home, i saw an acquaintance, Karen, on the walk. a woman walked up to her and said Happy Birthday!
i remembered my dream of a newborn baby named Karen, and got chills. i felt it was a sign to try harder to contact the man who wanted a ghost writer to help him tell his story.
i called my friend in Iowa again and she answered. she hadn't heard my message. i told her the whole story. she had just run into Fred the day before. she had not seen him in ages. he had been in Seattle for six months!!!
i thought it all meant i truly should write this mans story. but i haven't heard a thing from him since. so i don't know what any of it means.
lately, i have been forced to affirm "i am happy to let life remain a mystery."
