Flaubertosarus Rex

It is not well understood that during the course of reincarnation, time flows differently. I, Flaubert, have often been abruptly thrust forward from one lifetime to another without regard for the passage of time: tossed randomly from one century to the next much like the way that Picasso threw me down the stairs while Duchamp was painting my flying fur.

Such are the slings and arrows, the vagaries of life and afterlife & etc.; swept by the tides of existence and the erratic and perverse whims of my old pal the universe, at times the bardo seems more a refuge and less a way station.

But I, Flaubert, persist; and I daresay none can best me in the long game of time, because I am a master of the Dhogma.

Equally not understood is how one may even be reincarnated not as a dog but as (monstrous though it may seem to the uninitiated) some other strange creature; and like the ancient, evil god Cthulhu from H. P. Lovecraft’s novels, one finds oneself in a strange and alien body.

In my case this is because I was once reincarnated as a T. rex; and this happened simply because the universe had been on a binge with me and, after a night of serious drinking prior to my next incarnation, leaned rather too heavily on the lever used to set the century of my reincarnation.