Thursday, August 22, 2013

Dreaming Up Ghosts

The Big Daddy travels some for his job and unlike some of my friends, I do not mind being alone in the house.  I rather welcome it.  When the kids were young, we'd get Taco Bell for dinner and the freedom of not cooking kept me happy all day.  The freedom of having the entire bed and remote to myself kept me happy all night.

I never got spooked by noises or sounds and would drift off to slumberland in bliss.

Until.............

One night I was awakened by the sound of the bedroom door creaking open and I could feel a cool breeze on my face.  I lifted my head up and felt the weight of someone sitting on the edge of the bed.......a shadowy figure sitting at the end of the bed I was in.  I tried to kick it off over and over but my legs wouldn't move.  I was terrified and my heart was pounding for what seemed like an eternity and then it was gone.

Holy shit.

I told Mark when he got home and he said, "Oh, that's happened to me.  You were dreaming."   

No, I'm positive that was no dream.

 "Yeah, it was a dream.  You were semi-awake and that's why you remember everything, but it was definitely a dream."

I told a friend and she told me about the ghost in her house.  She has made several appearances over the years and she could recount in detail every experience.

The Big Daddy rolled his eyes at us.

My friend's ghost got a little too comfortable in her house and she finally told her she had to move on - that the house wasn't big enough for her family and a ghost and that was the end of that nonsense.

The Big Daddy let out a heavy sigh at this conversation.

Months went by until one morning he said to me, "Ummm, yeah, I saw your ghost last night."   

My ghost?  You did?  Really?

I kept badgering him with questions but he was in no mood to talkThe Man needed to make a few calls.
                                               Ghostbusters

1 comment:

  1. Holy shit, are you serious? How am I suppose to sleep tonight with this cliff hanger?!?! PM the rest and I'll write you a poem. Or bake you cookies. Or sing you a love song, name it. .

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