Dreams of Baby Tofu

I dream often of Baby Tofu over the next few weeks. He is happy, dancing and playing in green places where there are others who love him. I want to be there with him too, but feel the great distance between us. I cry daily upon waking and am reluctant to do anything. Too tired. Everything is tiring. Talking, walking, eating – and even sitting. But Gentle Whiskers is relentless in making me walk and rebuild my strength. He will not let me make any excuses, but I fight him. The Emperor does not visit and Gentle Whiskers says he is waiting until I am stronger.

I miss the swell of my tummy and the excitement of expectation. I miss the feeling of him moving in me and the sweet dreams I used to have. I am sad that I have lost him and that I will never touch him nor see him. I am sad, so sad that I wish to die, but Gentle Whiskers and Fluttering Bird will not let me.

They soothe me upon waking and sing to me when I feel that I feel like I am stuck in the mud at the bottom of a very deep and dark hole. They hold my hand when I walk and teach me things they think I need to know, trying to remind me of myself. It is hard. It is hard. It is hard like the ground during a drought.

I worry that the Emperor is angry with me and that he will take Fluttering Bird away. I worry that the Emperor will not think I am worth keeping anymore, now that I am no longer tofu. I worry that I will never find myself again, for just being a woman is not enough.

I am angry. Angry with Baby Tofu for leaving me. Angry with Flower Lady for tricking me. I am angry with the Emperor for not leaving me in the water. Everything is his fault. If it were not for him, I would still be the quiet tofu, sleeping away in my box on the Stack.

There is torn cloth and broken dishes. Fluttering Bird cries while she picks them up. Gentle Whiskers tells me I am not a child. I don't care. I do not care.

The world is dark. It is lacking in colour. Food has no taste. I taste only salt water. Every day, clouds pour rain and the green has turned to mud. Every day, cold like I have never felt before creeps into my joints and into my bones. I am weighed down. My feet slip. Light is dim and my hands cannot grasp hold of anything.

Black and white. Everything is black and white and grey.

"It is winter," they tell me. "There is snow. See the snow rabbit? See the bird? Here, a flower. See a pretty picture. Put on this coat. You must stay warm. Why do you still shiver?"

I hear them no more.

I don't want to know.

I understand nothing.

I want to go to where my Baby Tofu plays in my dreams. Where there is happiness and no sadness.

Gentle Whiskers feeds me potions and medicines and many bitter things. I take them without complaint. Both he and Fluttering Bird look tired and pale, as if they are not getting enough sleep, but I have not the strength to reach out to them. They are too far away.

White turns brown. Brown turns green. The sun shows its face again. The weather warms, but I am cold. The cold sits in my chest like a wet monster. It leers at me with its ugly face and threatens to squash the life out of me.

I let it.

I do not care.

Perfume fills my room. The Emperor is here.

He has been away all winter and did not visit. He no longer cares about me now that I am not tofu.

But.

I hear his voice whine. His clothes move with great wind. Cold wind. It makes me cough. His hands are warm, but his voice thunders when it does not whine with that nasal twang. I hate that sound. I hear moving cloth and Gentle Whiskers and Fluttering Bird apologise and apologise and apologise.

"If she dies, then you both will too," he threatens. He strokes my hair, my face, my hands. "Wake, Tofu," he pleads in my ear. "Live. Live, my good Tofu and make me smile. I am sorry I did not come and see you sooner. I will get you anything you need, but live. Live and lighten my life again."

So.

He wants me to live.

So.

He will kill both Gentle Whiskers and Fluttering Bird if I die.

I do not want them to leave me. They should not be sad. They should not die for a fault that is not theirs.

So.

So...

I will live and leave my dreams of Baby Tofu behind.

I will say farewell and rise.