Nonbeliever, I Think

How anyone can believe in ghost is beyond me. Please. Do you really think your “spirit” can generate energy and manifest a white sheet? I don’t care if I have seen them, and I have, I am not a believer in the supernatural. I think.

My boyfriend, Jamie, believes in things that go thump in the night. While I consider psychics John Edward, Sylvia Brown and the rest as simple entertainment (your wallet is getting thinner), he regards them as people with a connection to another dimension. In the beginning of our relationship he would get frustrated with my non-accepting ways. Now he loudly proclaims, ”Talk to the hand” and holds up his left #hand and tells me it isn’t “right”. He was a black woman in his previous life. Humans are walking machines. We process Twinkies, steaks and salads all to keep are bodies well fueled. What fuels a ghost? In order to close a door, knock over a lamp, or chant in a strange tongue, energy must be expended: in order to expend energy, energy must be supplied. I don’t see many ghosts at the drive-thru.

The first time I saw a ghost I wanted to slow it down so I could converse with it. The difficult part is conversing with something that you don’t believe is real. Which brings up another one of my left handed arguments. A ghost is real to the person who is experiencing the supernatural event, but not real in the sense that it is happening outside of that person’s body. Sort of like a dream, but more intense. The ghost appears real, we react to ghost as if they are real (cold sensation, hair raising on back of neck…) but in reality, they are only in our minds. Some little neuron frigged up and didn’t fire right. Some chemical is down a pint. Whatever the reason, our brain farts and sends us a ghost. Lately my brain has been farting up a storm.

It was around 11:00 PM and I was the only person up in our household. Even the cats and dogs were in never land. Sitting at the Formica kitchen table I was working on an old PC ( while my heart yearned for a new iMac) and I happened to look out the black kitchen window. Without any backyard lights, the window acted as a mirror (into the room, not my soul). A sudden chill coursed through my 10 lb, okay – 15 lb, overweight body. The little blond hairs on the back of my pencil neck all stood to attention like privates at boot camp. And it happened. I saw a ghost. My first. Initially I thought it was in front of me. Then I realized I was seeing it’s reflection. It was right behind me. I turned. There she was. Why did I think “she”? She had her arms outstretched and floated off the tile floor by about six inches (trust me, I’m gay so I know six non-AOL inches). The apparition was all white and semitransparent. Size and shape of a non-McDonalds human, yet no describable facial features. She didn’t seem alarmed by me and I wasn’t frightened of her. She moved quickly and silently and floated through the kitchen wall back to her dimension.