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July 16, 2008
Word to the Wise
Do not read books about ghosts before going to bed.
One would think I'd have learned my lesson by now. Yet years of watching Unsolved Mysteries at 2 in the morning and reading Stephen King (Cujo in the 2nd grade was a highlight) and Fate Magazine and the Time-Life series on the supernatural I begged my Nana to buy me and freaking myself the fig outta my mind about every last creak and grown in the 200-year old former NURSING HOME I was raised in (a house that's seen, um, probably about 40 deaths or so...give or take...some in my BEDROOM) didn't seem to take.
So last night, I'm innocently cruising through some Jodi Picoult book I stole from my mom's library and it turns out it's all about crazy ghosts in some sort of Alice Hoffman-way. I mean, not like super-spooky or anything - and silly in that it's all "Oh the sky is raining blood and rose petals but no one in town is that bothered because what the hey now, they live in Vermont" - but enough to make me sleep with the hall light on and get Deuce cuddled up close. Because I read until I literally cannot finish the sentence and have to put my book down mid-word (!), I fell asleep rather quickly. BUT THEN! At one in the morning, I awoke with a start, shook Deuce out of bed and got all the way downstairs before realizing what I was doing. Which was going to let a dog inside that doesn't exist. I even had him pictured in my mind. [Musical cue: ooohhweeeee-ooooooh.]
Now, to be hard-H honest, the sleepwalking and sleeptalking thing has been a constant in my life since I was in hard-H high school. For YEARS, I woke up in the kitchen or in the living room or - one memorable time - trying to get out of my apartment door on 69th street wearing, yes, just a t-shirt, but this was different than it's been in a long while. I was awake throughout the entire event, much like when I was growing up and would jump in the shower at about 2 in the morning and get midway through my ablutions until my dad knocked on the door and said, "Bree! It's the middle of the night!" Yes, fully awake but completely OUT OF IT at the same time.
Luckily as I've gotten all "Colorado, brah" about life, these incidents have decreased. Whereas I used to punctuate my sleep about once a week yelling, "NO NO NO" or sit straight up in bed gasping (guys love this), I now only occasionally freak Matt out with my midnight ramblings. (Like when I asked him recently if he was on fire. Dude, just wondering.) I don't know why I do these things; I swear no one has ever tried to murder me or molest me and I don't think I have a very conflicted psyche in general. I mean, I wish I did - it would explain a lot - but alas, a charmed life I've led. So, I think to continue this trend of mental wellness and sleep health, I need to cut back on the blood-n-ghosts before bed. This is sad as there's nothing I love more than getting myself worked up in a tizzy exactly 3 minutes before lying down but I hate losing control of my actions (unless my good friend alcohol is involved), and this is the ultimate loss of control - whether I'm completely asleep or awake and making bizarro choices.
Does anyone know where I can get my hands on a copy of "Chicken Soup for the Sole Proprietor's Soul?"
Posted by Bree at July 16, 2008 03:07 PM
Comments
I have really never been a purveyor in the misty wisps of ghosts and other light occult activities other than listening to hard rock and the beginnings of heavy metal music. Growing up in the city of Miami Beach, who’s claim to fame at that time (the 1960-70’s) was the waning years of Al Capone and Jackie Gleason, there wasn’t much call for ghost-busting or exorcisms.
I did have a friend from school that lived along a waterway and because of a somewhat traumatic existence told stories about “The Beast” which lived in the water just behind his house. The apparition never showed himself except for the glowing red eyes visible in the water at night. Still to this day I am not sure I ever actually gazed upon those eyes but remember shivering with weird feelings I have not had since.
My friend, being somewhat deranged, always slept with a machete next to his bed to protect himself from The Beast. His bedroom was actually a back porch with tile floors and mostly windows we ‘crackers’ affectionately call a Florida room. Next to his bed was a couch that I would sleep on when staying over for an unhealthy dose of extreme dysfunctional family fun. One night after an unsuccessful search for red eyes a glowing we went to sleep on our prospective beds. I awoke to the loud thud of the machete slicing into the arm of the couch missing me by inches! Not a feeling I would recommend to tweens or anyone for that matter.
As I have grown older (and wiser??), and my ego has been somewhat quelled, I seem to vibrate at a higher rate putting my dreams (both day and night) into the realm of fairies and elves. These happy creatures lead me toward acai juice, organic hummus and the sounds of Enya which I thoroughly enjoy while wearing my Black Sabbath t-shirt.
I am Alfred
Posted by: Alfred at July 18, 2008 07:50 AM
Yes, for all my fear - I too have never really seen much of anything...certainly nothing with red, glowing eyes. I am a puss with no cause. BUT GET THIS: after I told my homeslice about this post, he said he used to play chess with a ghost. Like...a lot. A ghost in a restaurant he worked in. He would move a piece, and go back to doing whatever, and then come back to the chess board and the ghost would've moved a piece. Also, if he took to long to come back, the ghost would start banging pots and stuff.
SAY WHAT?
The best part was he apparently always kicked the ghost's ass in chess. Death = a fine games player does not make. Oronoco flow, indeed.
Posted by: Bree at July 18, 2008 11:12 AM