centre of the universe - the dreaming

I have seen things today, in the flickering shadows of dusk; in the cast-askew glance into the middle distance. The first, as I approached our home, a tiny black bird, or perhaps a bat, darting over me, just past my right ear. When I looked back, there was no bird, nor bat, nor butterfly. A trick of the light, perhaps. Or a mysterious flickering thing.

The next I saw as I walked past the window. A flash of white; a ghostly figure gliding out of view just outside. Steam, maybe, or someone outside looking in, someone from some other time, some other where, peeking in my windows, wondering who I am, and why my spectral image is wandering past the window, trespassing so close to their place, and without so much as a tiny piece of bread dipped in honey.

There are others, of course. The sigh of starched cotton, a disembodied giggle. Sometimes, things that go missing turn up again in odd places. Why, for instance, would I have put my car keys on top of the door frame? I wouldn't, of course, because I can't even reach the top of the door frame. His Nibs could, but he's such a terrible liar.

Labels: ghosts, hippies, Intrigue, magic, weird

Dear Mum,

You probably know this already, things being what they are. Okay, this is pretty funny, actually. So I was talking to a psychic last night (no, that's not the funny part. Some people go to the bar; some people play MMORPGs (I'll explain that one later); I talk to psychics. It's like sports entertainment Pay-Per-Views), and guess who showed up?

Well, I was kind of expecting you, to be honest, but you're probably in some bonspiel somewhen so you weren't around. ANYWAY, yeah. You'll never guess. No, seriously, you'll never guess. Okay, fine, technically, you *will* probably guess, things being what they are, so I'm just going to tell you.

Great Gram McG!

No, seriously!

I **KNOW**!!

So, when I told my psychic that that was really funny because I was the only person in the family she actually *liked* other than her own pre-marriage-to-Great-Granddad-John A., the psychic said, "oh, she just said 'I *tolerated* her'". And that made me laugh really, really hard, because I remember one time when we were camping with Auntie Isa at Cypress Hills, and Auntie M (yes, I know. It's ironic that I have an Auntie M) was there, and Nama, and you...remember the time y'all got me to plant a pinecone in the dry, dry dust outside the trailer and then pour some whiskey over it and then in the morning, there was a *little wee tree* growing there...(and yes, I'm aware that you all had me utterly convinced that whiskey and my own magic grows trees overnight until I was fifteen)...remember that time? I was pretending to be asleep in the bunk in the trailer and you and the Aunties and Nama were growing trees in your belly with whiskey?

You thought I was asleep. And, as it was wont to do at those times, the conversation in the dark, dry, hot night turned to Gram McG. "Isn't it odd," Nama said, "how that horrible old woman was so keen with cenobyte?"
"Isn't it?" laughed Auntie M. "She hated every other Goddamned person in John A.'s family."
Then the lights in the trailer flickered. Auntie M trotted out to check out the power connection. Ours was the only trailer with flickering lights. She hollered this news in from the place where my tree would grow.
"Jesus Christ, Carrie," Auntie Isa hissed. "We can talk about you all we like now. You're dead, though not long enough."
The lights kept flickering until Auntie M got back in to the trailer. "Always was a vicious old bitch," she laughed. "And you know I'm talking to you!" She said to the air.
The lights stopped flickering.
And you said, "I wonder why she took such a liking to cenobyte?"
And Auntie Isa, the eldest, smiled her powdery, luscious smile and her blue, blue eyes that looked so much like John A's twinkled and sparkled and she leaned forward over the table conspiratorially. She winked over her whiskey and in a stage whisper she announced: "That nasty woman didn't like a goddamned thing. She only tolerated cenobyte because cenobyte was the only one still young enough to believe in witches."

Anyway, I thought it was funny. And I thought you'd enjoy it.

Miss you lots,
love
cenobyte

Labels: ghosts, letters, Mum

Yesterday, I saw someone I'm not fond of. I mentioned to my work buddy, "Gah. There's someone I'm not fond of. I hope that person doesn't recognise me." And really, there's a good chance I would have been able to stay relatively incognito. But then I started thinking 'this is ridiculous. I don't live in fear.'

So I approached the ghost and re-introduced myself, made some small talk, and the ghost went on its merry way.

This is significant for a couple of reasons (I'm in point-form mood lately; please bear with me):
1) There are very few people I dislike. It really takes an awful lot for you to prove to me that you're not worth my time and energy. My ghost managed to do so in eight months, which I think is a record.

2) I've discovered in the last few years that I do, in fact, hold a grudge. But usually not against people who wrong *me*. Usually it's against people who harm someone else. I still hold a bit of a grudge against my ghost...obviously, because my initial reaction was to hide.

3) It proved to me that all the confidence that my ghost stripped away from me over six months or so has grown back. Thank you, family, friends, and career!

I'm hoping tonight to see Road Rage and my BFFFCWPUWMSFY (Best Friend Forever From Childhood Who Put Up With My Shit For Years) whom I haven't seen in seven years. I'm excited about both.

Thanks for the prayers and good mojo and meatballs. I think it's helping.

Labels: BFFFCWPUWMSFY, ghosts, grudges