One dark and stormy night (metaphorically speaking) Alfred’s soul grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and slammed him against the wall (in a spiritual sense).
“I’m your soul. We need to talk,” said Soul.
“I’m pretty sure I don’t have a soul. I am a soul. I stand on Genesis 2:7 on this point,” said Alfred, unconcerned with the feeling that he was being accosted by a concept.
“It’s metaphorical language. I can use it however I want. It all depends on perspective,” said Soul.
“I could be your spiritual side,” said Spiritual Side.
“Or perhaps your alter ego,” said Alter Ego.
“But we still need to have a talk,” said Soul.
“I really don’t think a metaphor should be using metaphors,” insisted Alfred. “It’s unseemly.”
“So now I’m supposed to have good taste?” said Soul. “Only metaphorically, of course,” he added in diminishing tones. Alfred was reminded of a musical scale, played diminuendo.
“I don’t think you’re supposed to talk at all,” said Alfred, trying for forte, but instead sounding like an angry child. He couldn’t have said whether the sound was real, metaphorical, spiritual, or imaginary. But it was petulant.
“And yet here I am speaking to you, or so your soul imagines in any case.”
“So what do you want?” asked Alfred.
“I want you to take care of me.” Soul’s intonation was like the ringing of a large bell this time.
“But you don’t exist!”
“Yet you talk to me.”
“Yeah, I do. Crazy, no?”
“Only metaphorically speaking,” said Soul, in a voice that evoked laughter like tiny silver bells. “Or it might be in the form of a simile,” he added.
“So what do I do to take care of you?”
“Think about it,” said Soul. “How did you get to the point where you’re up against the wall talking nonsense to your soul? Or to yourself, if one accepts your view.”
“It certainly isn’t from lack of study,” said Alfred.
“No, you are diligent at that.”
“Nor that I don’t spend time in serious thought.”
“No, you do think a great deal.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“He’s talking to something he doesn’t believe exists, and he doesn’t see the problem,” said Soul to no one in particular (or even metaphorical).
“I don’t get it. You’re talking to me, and I shoudn’t talk to you?”
“Sheesh,” said Soul. “Try opening that door over there.”
Alfred looked at the door. It seemed that he had seen it before, yet he sensed it was also something new.
He turned the knob, slid it open. Suddenly he remembered/anticipated. Behind him he heard Soul laughing.
The door led outside.