November 21st, 2014

Ys

Ghost Stories

Eighteen more days with only my thoughts and depressing television for company. That might not strictly be true thanks to next week's journey to Pennsylvania for Thanksgiving, but I'm sure an eight-hour car trip is going to bring new and interesting challenges on the recovery front. I'm well enough for that as long as I'll have a reclining seat, I'm sure, but it's still going to be less than fun. Today was one of those days in which talking through the things about which I'm perpetually upset did absolutely zero to improve my outlook on life, the universe, and everything. I've written around 13,000 words of fiction in the past few weeks, but when I stop between concentrated bursts, it's difficult to start again. I have to write another 10k before December 1st, and I'm dragging my feet, making sleepless blog posts instead. "Tell me a dream," someone prompts. No, I think, and then I do anyway (and end up in tears because of who was in it and where it was set).

My brain keeps looping that Aimee Mann song, "It's Not Going to Stop," that I quoted a handful of subject lines back. A few hours ago, my youngest sister texted to ask me if I'd had any run-ins with the supernatural lately, because I'm the family go-to person for handling creepy shit (do you ask your hereditary storytellers to do this?) I told her about three different people in the five or so days leading up to my surgery reporting to me via text-message that they thought they'd spotted me where they are, and that is many states away in each case; I told her about the too-vivid dreams I've been having. I don't know if those count. I assumed she'd texted me with this because maybe she had something to report (a cousin of mine texted a couple months back, somewhat concerned that she and her kids were moving into a house that's reportedly haunted), but she was just thinking about the fact that I always seemed to be an odd-happenings magnet and how we both dreamed of a girl-ghost standing next to the piano in one of the houses we lived in while we were growing up (and didn't know we'd both dreamed this till we were talking years later). My blood seems to deal in dreams and hauntings, and for us it's the restless girls who won't settle who seem to get it.