#24 - My Ghosts (Mp3)
I never knew whether I really believed in ghosts until I became one.
Ten to fifteen years later when I was older, if not wiser, I was staying with my Aunt again, although she never quite forgave me for pulling such a dirty trick on her. I was staying in the same room I had been in on the night of the failed elopement of many years ago. Well, I couldn't sleep or rest. I felt agitation. I sensed, I never saw, but I sensed, the presence of a young girl who was very agitated and full of excitement and full of anxiety. She was very much there. I wasn't just reliving something that had happened. She was there. That room was haunted and the ghost was 'me'. My earlier self.
I had red hair when I was a little girl. I must have left some trace there. I'm wondering now how many other places I may be haunting that I'm not aware of. It's as if a place where something has happened is like a photographic negative that takes an impression of highly emotional events or circumstances. That's my guess.
I played guitar at the folk mass, which was held before the regular service at this Anglican church. They tried to get me to sing modern made up white hymns but I claimed I didn't know how and mostly played Southern gospel hymns, black and white, which I coerced them into learning. We were doing our little folk mass quite simply in colloquial English.
At a certain point in the Mass you do Prayers for the Living and then you do Prayers for the Dead. While we were having the Service there was quite a commotion in the church. Doors were opening and closing with loud bangs. Winds were blowing. There were rattling noises. Things fell down. It was the usual ghostly agitation.
Somehow or other I knew sometimes you just know things
that this was the lady who had passed on who had been so dedicated to
the church. I started, because she was so active with banging and wind
blowing etc., to put her in the prayers for the living. Then I stopped
myself, I waited and then, under my breath, I put her name quietly
spoken no one else heard me in the prayers for the dead.
These events are very subjective and personal but they are also very