Do I believe in ghosts?
In this morning's email string, I mentioned this dream I had about a haunted house. I've had several dreams about this house (which varies slightly from dream to dream, the way dream things do) and they are all pretty freaky.
This morning's, set in the late 19th-century in what is always a Victorian era house, dealt with a woman who apparently murdered her own unborn fetus before taking her own life. I know! When other women (mama?) come to pick up the pieces, it turns out the mom is a wee child--I mean a WEE child, maybe 4--and still alive. Again, I know! Why does the mind contort so? So mom and someone else (me?), after briefly pondering the viability of a 4-year old's eggs and her ability to carry a child and deciding it's all evil so go with it, realize that this child must be taken out of this monstrous environment. As in most such fables, the house is not eager to be served in this way and you've got to get beyond the property line to be free. I (now it's me) run at the door with the intention of BUSTING! through it and succeed. Now we're outside and there are two horse-drawn carriages careening wildly (do they ever careen "mildly"?) around the corner. I realize that we must get on these carriages but, if they come onto the expansive front grounds of the house, something really nasty is going to happen to those horses and it's morning so I wake up.
So...what's the motivation, brain? I've been hearing way too many stories about horrific child sexual torture (I refuse to call it "abuse" anymore--do you "abuse" prisoners in a POW camp?) thanks to the regular media these days, thus the 4-year old mother in an evil situation who needs saved.
And as for the haunted house in particular, there are two likely sources:
1. Stevie's YMCA camp counselor took the campers on a "ghost hunt" this week. The Y is in an old building that belonged to the now defunct Kemper Military Academy. There are many other old, vacant, kinda spooky looking buildings on the grounds. As the campers tramped through them (an exercise I thought was really cool) older kids and, I'm assuming, counselors, told stories about the lost souls of the military school. Stevie has been asking to sleep in our room for the past few days. I just put it all together this morning--duh!
He said that there was a girl who ran around the football field 99 times and, because some man didn't want anyone to run around the football field 100 times, she was kidnapped and, apparently, murdered. I told Stevie that that was a made-up ghost story--and a pretty lame one, too. But he said, "Well, why did I hear a girl's scream?" Um...excited neighborhood kids? This conversation was a lot like one I had with Stevie just a day or two ago, about whether or not robots and other machines were alive. I said no--they are human-made machines, not born of parents, and not able to sustain themselves. He really challenged me on this! I wracked my flimsy human brain for the golden nugget that would lead to his "Ah-HA!" moment but failed to find it. So, now, Stevie believes in ghosts and Christine.
2. Kevin's aunt, Kathy, died in our house. She lived there for a year or two. She was an alcoholic who drank herself to death last year. When I first stayed in the house I must admit to being a little spooked. If there are ghosts, what would make them mean, angry ghosts bent on inflicting harm? Kathy was a very sweet woman who loved children. She died in what is now my children's room. But she died estranged from her own grown son. You can guess what I thought of next. I'm too embarrassed to write it!
A few nights ago, I was awakened by a VERY loud "Thud!thud!thud!thud! thud! thud! Thud!thud!thud! (repeat)" sound--as if someone without any rhythm was falling down the stairs. I got up, cautiously, and took a look around. It was 2:44 in the morning. Ghost? I couldn't find any obvious appliance sources, and it was definitely an inside sound and, so, not an animal in the trash. Kids OK? Check. OK, freaky. I went back to bed, but left the light on like a real idiot.
I told Kevin about the sound and even admitted my ghostly thought. An the next night...
it happened again.
I was almost afraid to look at the clock. If it was 2:44, I would have been freaked. Luckily, it was 1:45. Do ghosts have their own version of daylight savings time?
Again, I could find no source.
You all know that I don't tend to believe a lot of things. I don't believe in God, I don't believe that politicians mean what they say, I hesitate in the face of new medical studies. But I've heard enough freaky stories about ghosts to think maybe...just maybe. My brother has a really scary story and (this ex-Marine non-believer) doesn't even like to talk about it (but he will). And so I wonder. I don't shun the possibility that some sort of energy is released when people die, or that that dead person might be pissed, or that the living might see something "beyond". You know, there are a lot of colors outside of our limited human range--just because we can't see them doesn't mean that they are not there. And, by the way, when a tree falls in the forest and no human is within earshot it DOES still make noise! What a stupid humancentric "riddle" that is.
Oh. The sound.
It wasn't a ghost (this time).
It was Stevie's errant hydrogen-filled Mylar birthday balloon from Toys R Us, venturing on the air currents...into one of two ceiling fans.
Kevin just happened to be sleeping upstairs that second night (freaked out Stevie was in bed with me) and it gave him quite a start! That thing has been free-floating for 4 days and only hits the fan in the middle of the night. Until Wednesday, anyway, when it took a trip in the morning.
Are balloons alive? If so, this one was an asshole. So I killed it.
This morning's, set in the late 19th-century in what is always a Victorian era house, dealt with a woman who apparently murdered her own unborn fetus before taking her own life. I know! When other women (mama?) come to pick up the pieces, it turns out the mom is a wee child--I mean a WEE child, maybe 4--and still alive. Again, I know! Why does the mind contort so? So mom and someone else (me?), after briefly pondering the viability of a 4-year old's eggs and her ability to carry a child and deciding it's all evil so go with it, realize that this child must be taken out of this monstrous environment. As in most such fables, the house is not eager to be served in this way and you've got to get beyond the property line to be free. I (now it's me) run at the door with the intention of BUSTING! through it and succeed. Now we're outside and there are two horse-drawn carriages careening wildly (do they ever careen "mildly"?) around the corner. I realize that we must get on these carriages but, if they come onto the expansive front grounds of the house, something really nasty is going to happen to those horses and it's morning so I wake up.
So...what's the motivation, brain? I've been hearing way too many stories about horrific child sexual torture (I refuse to call it "abuse" anymore--do you "abuse" prisoners in a POW camp?) thanks to the regular media these days, thus the 4-year old mother in an evil situation who needs saved.
And as for the haunted house in particular, there are two likely sources:
1. Stevie's YMCA camp counselor took the campers on a "ghost hunt" this week. The Y is in an old building that belonged to the now defunct Kemper Military Academy. There are many other old, vacant, kinda spooky looking buildings on the grounds. As the campers tramped through them (an exercise I thought was really cool) older kids and, I'm assuming, counselors, told stories about the lost souls of the military school. Stevie has been asking to sleep in our room for the past few days. I just put it all together this morning--duh!
He said that there was a girl who ran around the football field 99 times and, because some man didn't want anyone to run around the football field 100 times, she was kidnapped and, apparently, murdered. I told Stevie that that was a made-up ghost story--and a pretty lame one, too. But he said, "Well, why did I hear a girl's scream?" Um...excited neighborhood kids? This conversation was a lot like one I had with Stevie just a day or two ago, about whether or not robots and other machines were alive. I said no--they are human-made machines, not born of parents, and not able to sustain themselves. He really challenged me on this! I wracked my flimsy human brain for the golden nugget that would lead to his "Ah-HA!" moment but failed to find it. So, now, Stevie believes in ghosts and Christine.
2. Kevin's aunt, Kathy, died in our house. She lived there for a year or two. She was an alcoholic who drank herself to death last year. When I first stayed in the house I must admit to being a little spooked. If there are ghosts, what would make them mean, angry ghosts bent on inflicting harm? Kathy was a very sweet woman who loved children. She died in what is now my children's room. But she died estranged from her own grown son. You can guess what I thought of next. I'm too embarrassed to write it!
A few nights ago, I was awakened by a VERY loud "Thud!thud!thud!thud! thud! thud! Thud!thud!thud! (repeat)" sound--as if someone without any rhythm was falling down the stairs. I got up, cautiously, and took a look around. It was 2:44 in the morning. Ghost? I couldn't find any obvious appliance sources, and it was definitely an inside sound and, so, not an animal in the trash. Kids OK? Check. OK, freaky. I went back to bed, but left the light on like a real idiot.
I told Kevin about the sound and even admitted my ghostly thought. An the next night...
it happened again.
I was almost afraid to look at the clock. If it was 2:44, I would have been freaked. Luckily, it was 1:45. Do ghosts have their own version of daylight savings time?
Again, I could find no source.
You all know that I don't tend to believe a lot of things. I don't believe in God, I don't believe that politicians mean what they say, I hesitate in the face of new medical studies. But I've heard enough freaky stories about ghosts to think maybe...just maybe. My brother has a really scary story and (this ex-Marine non-believer) doesn't even like to talk about it (but he will). And so I wonder. I don't shun the possibility that some sort of energy is released when people die, or that that dead person might be pissed, or that the living might see something "beyond". You know, there are a lot of colors outside of our limited human range--just because we can't see them doesn't mean that they are not there. And, by the way, when a tree falls in the forest and no human is within earshot it DOES still make noise! What a stupid humancentric "riddle" that is.
Oh. The sound.
It wasn't a ghost (this time).
It was Stevie's errant hydrogen-filled Mylar birthday balloon from Toys R Us, venturing on the air currents...into one of two ceiling fans.
Kevin just happened to be sleeping upstairs that second night (freaked out Stevie was in bed with me) and it gave him quite a start! That thing has been free-floating for 4 days and only hits the fan in the middle of the night. Until Wednesday, anyway, when it took a trip in the morning.
Are balloons alive? If so, this one was an asshole. So I killed it.
posted by lulu | 9:21 AM
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