|Photo still from one of my fav childhood movies:|
Casper, the Friendly Ghost. I might have one.
In other news, I’ve been running around like a headless chicken these past few weeks trying to get everything in order job-wise. You know, that real job that I have but rarely blog about because, let’s face it, there’s a bazillion Army Officers out there, so who wants to hear about what I do? Of course in the same respect, there is a growing Pagan population, not to mention the colossal numbers of amateur artists, writers, musicians, and other creative-type folks. So perhaps I’m not as original as I once thought. On the other hand, perhaps my originality lies in the blending of all these things…but oh wait, we already have a phrase for that: Jack (or Jill) of all Trades, Master of None.
But such is life.
Perhaps it’s the encroaching full moon that has me so introspective, or perhaps it’s the lack of sleep (wait, what time is it? why am I not still working? oh yes, waiting on an email), but something just has my head spinning lately. Even on the rare occasion I’ve been able to finish my work (my real, Army-type work) before midnight, I’ve been unable to fall asleep right away, left instead to muse in circles, awake and pissed that I’m still awake. Tonight I’m upping my usual nightly dose of one ginormous mug of Bedtime tea (two leaves & a bud to the rescue!) to two ginormous mugs of Bedtime tea. Of course, with my luck, this will only result in my sleeping through my five alarms and being late to PT formation. Let’s keep our fingers crossed, shall we?
And in keeping up with the fine tradition of I-might-be-crazy-but-please-don’t-tell-anyone-as-I-post-publicly-and-only-slightly-anonymously-online-about-my-own-craziness, I think my apartment is still haunted. I’m not particularly astute when it comes to detecting entities of a ghostly nature, but in that half-waking, half-dreaming state of early morning semi-consciousness, I’ve been able to perceive a presence. I’ve done some research in ghosts—Walking the Twilight Path, Monsters: An Investigator’s Guide to Magical Beings, A Witch’s Guide to Ghosts and the Supernatural, and several other more generic examples of Pagan lit, and of course I’ve trolled all over the internet—and based on my interactions (such as they are) I have determined several things: My ghost is the spirit of a 13-15 year old boy, a victim of drowning some 200 years ago (surprising that his ethereal body has maintained this much cohesion, but water-deaths tend to do that, apparently), is totally OK with calling my Casper, and in fact might have a slight crush on me.
Oh yeah, and he also makes a great alarm clock. No joke. He yells at me in the morning when it’s the last possible time for me to get out of bed and still by chance make it to formation on time. Seriously. This has happened three times now. The first two times he poked me, the third time—just last week—I actually heard a young, male voice say, “You have to get up! Like right now!” So I did. He seems content so long as I acknowledge his presence, and he’s been thus far VERY well behaved whenever I’ve had guests over.
So either I’m crazy, or perhaps ghosts really do exist.