Monday, 5 November 2012


I read a while back that there's no such thing as ghosts. It's funny how fiction can also contain elements of reality. 

This was in one of my beloved detective novels, of all things. In it, the main character comments that ghosts come from within. He feels they're a product of our fears, our worries or our sufferings, and our mind creates them to comfort us. 

It makes me wonder about a dream I had recently about you, Nana. You were in it, certainly. But were you in the room with me too? I dreamed you were hugging me. I could even feel something holding me.  

I even thought I saw you. The person in the dream - it was Edna - told me that the noises I could hear while I was sleeping were coming from you as you tidied my room. Why you were tidying my room, I don't know, but I didn't mind. I opened my eyes for a split second, but I don't know if this was in the dream or in real life, and there you were, making a right old racket. You were wearing your lilac outfit. 

I was in such a deep sleep I can't be sure, so maybe it was all just a pleasantly lucid dream.  But it's the second time I've had such a dream and felt you were there. Do you come to see me? Are you watching over me? 

I hope so. I wish I could see you.

How I wish I could see you and know that the novel is wrong.I guess I'll never.

1 comment: