There is a finite number of souls in the universe. A very small finite number, actually.
One, to be precise.
Every living thing in the universe is the same being, living over and over again, striving for understanding.
Life is the universe trying to understand itself.
Which is all very nice, but the problem is, as soon as one of the trillions of attempts the universe makes at working itself out manages to realise that the quest for self-realisation is what is going on, the universe has served its purpose and will cease to be.
So forgot I said this.