Talking to the Ghosts...

Introductions

Lost. An emptiness filled with fog. With all vacancies filled and room for more. A challenge to the soul. Don't fracture. Prosperity in creating. Only you. Only we. Powerfully mend a rift of happenstance.

What's that supposed mean?

It's nothing.

Hey, everybody. Our boy's writing something. What are ya writing boy?

Well if you must know. I thought I would try writing a novel.

Oh, my. A novel. What is it going to be about, dear.

I was planning on making it about all of us.

Won't that be exciting!

Wouldn't that technically make it a memoir?

Yes. But I don't imagine anyone will believe it as a true story so I'm calling it a novel.

Humph!

I suppose that makes sense, boy.

Before I go any further I should introduce myself. My name is um... David Sunset.

What?

No, it's not, dear. It's...

Shhh. I know that's not my name but it just occurred to me that I don't really want a bunch of strangers knowing my name.

He always was a shy one.

I keep telling you I'm an introvert.

Ok, so, I should really introduce everyone before I get too far. First up, on my right...

That's your left, Sweetie.

Oh yeah, I keep doing that. Of course, it is a book. So I could be pointing anywhere and the reader would never know.

That would be dishonest, dear.

Right. Ok. So starting from the top. On my left. My grandparents on my father's side starting with my grandfather Ernie and his wife Elsa.

"Greetings", says Ernie

"Afternoon", chimes in Elsa

On the other side of me here I have my mom's side of the family her mother Rose and her father Bill.

"Oh, this is so exciting. Hi everybody.", says Rose as she waves grinning from ear to ear. All you get from grandpa Bill is a head nod. If you blinked you missed it.

Wonderful grandma. This isn't TV land. Nobody can see you waving.

"Oh.", she said dejected.

Don't worry I told them that you did.

She smiles

So, you might ask, why am here surrounded by my grandparents? Well, the short answer is that they are all dead and as 'ghosts' I can't really get rid of them.

Dirty looks from all concerned.

Not that I would want to.

Stated perhaps more for their benefit than yours

The point being. I *sigh* see dead people. Yeah yeah. I know, like the movie. Except unlike most movies or TV shows these people are not angry or bitter. They are not seeking revenge or trying to solve a murder. And they most certainly have no interest in telling your fortune.

I'm a people person. I really do enjoy the, um newness I guess, of meeting people for the first time. I like getting to know them. Hearing their stories. Finding out what drives them. I met a man who worked himself to death trying to provide everything for his family .........

I've been saddled with this ability for as far back as I can remember. Or at least I think it's as far back as I remember. I don't really remember. It has been the source all of my childhood imaginary friends. Well, almost all. I vaguely remember a purple hippopotamus with a perpetually bad tooth but I can't be sure that wasn't just an oral hygiene ad either.

My parents, of course, didn't understand. All they saw, all anyone could ever see was me. All by myself. Having a great time. Laughing at jokes no one else heard. Showing my little works of art to thin air and just generally shooting the breeze with the vacancies in my life. My parents also seemed to take great delight in pitting me against a great many of local psychiatrists.

I imagine it was some sort of misguided payback for my young life of possible wonder and whimsy.

Wonder and whimsy?

Are you saying that you're not wonderful or whimsical?

Huh, I guess you got me there.

I detested meeting them and listening to their condescension as they asked me questions like, "Did you bring your friend with you today?".

Did you really hear it in italic?

I swear, the minute it flowed out of their mouths I could hear it tilting slightly to the right. And don't think for a second I missed yours, pal.

Humph.

It didn't help that I had a different friend with me each time so my stories seemed inconsistent and therefore made up.

I would often relish the occasions when my friends would assist me in keeping the psychiatrists off balance.

Oh, yeah. My favorite one was the time you were seeing Dr. Houston and his mother told us the story of his first imaginary friend, um Jumbo was his name I think.

Hehe, do you remember how big his eyes got when I brought that up.

Yes and then I started laughing so hard.

Which of course got me laughing so hard my eyes started to water.

After 15 minutes of that the poor guy started to cry and ran out of the room. We never had to go back to that one ever again.

At some point here I guess I should enlighten everyone in regards to a few misconceptions about the nature of these people.

I personally have always felt that Thornton Wilder had it right in Our Town.

Speaking Yiddish at a very young age.