I think the way I make meaning is based as much as I can on what my experience of life is like since it’s the thing I guess I’ll best know. And I know I can experience reality either in waking life or in my dreams. I kept track of which of my senses seemed constant to me between the dream worlds and my waking life. In dreams I still see in that dreamy way, and I can hear others, as if the voice were coming from within, and not say as if it were a hound barking at your literal bedside. Scared the shit outta me because I don’t know if my mind can make me dream snarls at my bedside like that. It was such an intense fear, I really could not move myself. So I start to tremble the words through the abyss of my consciousness, “Jesus! Jesus!” And it all goes away eventually. But other than that one time, it’s typically the sense of seeing and hearing from within that seem to be constant in what I guess reality has been for me. The rest of it what I think it is I gotta sort out by reading how the rest of humanity has been experiencing reality. But if I can’t trust my hic-spanic family when they tell me about ghost boys running around their home and zones of healing, then that’s a sad life to live I guess.
I’ll admit it, I kinda asked for the that hellhound in a sense. I was watching The Tend Commandments, when Pharaoh essentially orders the erasure of the existence of Moses, and the scene gets me thinking, “Hey you know what would make me believe more? If I had some personal proof of the existence of the devil? If he’s real, then God is certainly real right?” I think that’s why that very night a Hell Hound showed up in my room and growled viciously at me. Or maybe it was a weird dream, I don’t know and it’s never happened again. I’ve had sleep paralysis, but for me, nothing like that ever happens when I’m in sleep paralysis.
The other thing that seems worth talking about from my end is the distinct knocking on the bathroom door when I knew that absolutely no one else was up. It took a long time to open that door, and I wondered if it was actually possible to punch a ghost or if my hand would faze through as it’s ashy fingers grip my throat?
But all that is not as disorienting to think about as actually knowing you are home alone and then a ghost boy runs past your open door. And to have it happen more than once. These are the kind of situation’s that feel like real forks in the road in trying to come to an understanding of reality.
But to the extent that I seem to am able to try and find some way to connect the word ghost to lived reality in a more plausible way, probably the only thing I can think about is that the word “ghosts” is most accurately in reference to a past that haunts; perhaps like a lingering trauma, still influencing our actions: and that would be possession.
Anyways, I think that’s enough for the night. I hope I’m able to find more time to dedicate to my writing.
-Danny