It happens in a blink, a breath, a room, a word you swear you’ve already heard. Not just heard, lived.
You freeze. The world tilts sideways. Your body is present but your soul is looking backward, grasping at a memory that was never yours to begin with.
You’ve never been in this place. And yet, you remember the light falling exactly like this. The way someone laughs. The way your heart pauses, like it’s waiting for something you forgot to forget.
It feels like a whisper from another life, a crack in the timeline, a glitch in the loop. A version of you that once stood right here, saying the same thing, feeling this exact ache in your chest.
Maybe time folds. Maybe memory leaks. Maybe the universe repeats itself in soft echoes, hoping we’ll notice how connected it all really is.
Or maybe it’s the soul remembering what the mind can’t explain— a dream we walked through before this life began. A quiet nudge that we’ve been here before.