11/26/06

I could see ghosts. And none I saw were happy. All were angry and distraught. Why? They didn’t become whole after death. Whatever affliction they died with, they retained in spirit form. Children with weakened limbs, unable to run, barely able to walk; mothers unable to reach out and touch their children; bedridden elderly unable to sit up; and the double-amputee who can’t even get out of his chair. He was the most distressing to me. His wife had called me because she felt haunted by his spirit. Walking around the house, she describes how all she hears is a muffled yelling by the stairs, but can never make it out. Rounding the corner to the stairway, there is an old wicker wheelchair, sitting on a lift next to the stairs. This is a massively old house, dust gathered everywhere, but the chair. And there he is – an old man, outlined in blue luminescence, clothed in a gold quilted smoking jacket, and two nubby bandaged knees poking out of the hem of the jacket. The double-amputee. He looks at his wife, growls angrily, and yells, “God damn it, woman! You know I can’t do anything!! Push the God damned button!” The old wife begins to whimper as all she hears are muffled, undistinguishable yells. And I told her to push the button. She does, he stops yelling, and I wake up.