Mary Morgan's poem
Ghost Brush
Katsushika Ōi, Houkasi
But I feel a presence.
I look deeper into the painting.
She is staring back.
The bright moonlight wakes me.
Annemarie's story
Someone went to bed....someone woke up
I pulled back the crisp white sheet and climbed into bed. Freshly showered, face scrubbed shiny I lay back hoping I could sleep deeply this time. When I go to bed in the evening I'm sometimes so tired I think, or I hope, that this time I will sleep dreamlessly... or at least have peaceful, entertaining dreams as when I was young. But after a while I'm having disturbing thoughts; many nights I'm up at two in the morning drinking a tisane that's like mown grass. Then it gets worse; my throat is dry so I make a peanut butter sandwich and regret it as soon as I've finished it. Of course I can put 'doing the ironing at 2.30 a.m.' as a positive. So many nights just lying there, letting little problems and worries loom large in the dark, desperately waiting for daylight and normality to arrive.
Well it's daylight now as I lie in bed but I can't stop dwelling on a remark my so-called friend (of 57 years) made a few weeks ago. It is true what I'd heard recently from a novel- " Age and disease and death may destroy our physical being but it is other people who get inside us and damage our hearts and minds." Then a memory of my father's wisdom comes back to me. As a child I was bullied during my schooldays and Dad told me to say "Sticks and stones can break my bones but words will never hurt me," whenever I was teased or bullied. It got me through school and now I have a greater concern than a few cruel words from a friend. I am frightened. I must distract myself as. I grope for my iPad and fiddle with the buttons until I find the history podcast Richard set up this morning when he came to see me.
Mussolini - now there was someone really evil - my friend, well she is just unthinking, a bit controlling too. Must stop ruminating over that .. back to Mussolini....didn't know he went to Nazi Germany...
"Wake up " I hear distantly and I'm wondering what happened when Mussolini met Hitler.
So I did really sleep. And then I see the nurse, colours so bright, auburn hair. She gently helps me to sit up. Now I'm properly awake, no more looking through a dark smoky black veil, no more feeling my way around the house. Vision restored in my one good eye in just a morning ...and what a good sleep I had. Perhaps I'll just read about Mussolini.
Paula's story
As she tumbled into bed, her teeth brushed, her face washed, her pajamas buttoned, she glowed with the success of the night. It had been a night of firsts: the first time she defied her parents — although they probably would never know; after all, she did make curfew, she’s not that dumb. It was the first time she wore eyeliner, applied in secret backstage before the cast party, her first cigarette, her first taste of beer, her first kiss! She snuggled deeper into the covers, thinking of that kiss. And she wondered if Elena was thinking of it, too.
Elena. Just the sound of her name made Susan press her face deeper into her pillow and giggle with glee. She was the prettiest girl in school, or at least Susan thought so. A senior, Elena seemed to be everywhere on campus. And she had noticed Susan, a lowly freshman of all people, at the party to celebrate the last performance of this year’s school play.
Susan was still tingling, still a little in awe. She had spent the entire spring season sourcing fabrics and ribbons and notions, sewing patterns, fitting her classmates into the costumes that helped create the on-stage world of Romeo and Juliet. Elena, of course, had played Juliet, and Susan had been practically a bundle of nerves every time she helped her into the cumbersome outfits — or out of them, backstage, between scenes.
Susan knew she would never, just never, get to sleep! There were too many feelings, too many sensations, too many memories. The way Elena stared at her from across the room. (Although she couldn’t believe she, Susan, had been the subject of that piercing gaze.) The way Elena nodded slightly, smiled, then pointed to the hallway. The way Elena steered Susan toward the bathroom, then the way her arm brushed against Susan’s as they both reached for the handle to the door. The way Elena laughed, then pushed Susan into the bathroom, locking the door behind them. They way she shoved Susan up against the sink, holding her wrists, bending toward her until all Susan could smell was her shampoo, a faint scent of a musky cologne, a whiff of starch from Elena’s crisp white shirt.
And when Elena’s lips found Susan’s, Susan thought she was going to just die. This was actually happening, something she had dreamed about for so long. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly as Elena kissed her, softly at first, then roughly, thrusting her tongue into Susan’s surprised but willing mouth, moving her hands across Susan’s small breasts, hiking up Susan’s skirt to lift her onto the bathroom counter.
Just as suddenly, it was over. Someone knocked on the door, and Elena broke away, winked at Susan, pulled her off the counter, put a finger to her lips, then yanked open the door, drawing Susan out, arm in arm, giggling, as if they were just two high school girls sharing a laugh at a party.
And then, Elena disappeared into the crowd. And Susan’s older brother was at the door, come to drive his sister home.
Susan sighed into the darkness. She was in love; it had finally happened! She couldn’t wait for school on Monday. She knew Elena’s schedule; she knew they shared one of the four lunch periods. They would eat together every day. They would tell each other everything. They would go shopping together, have sleepovers at each other’s houses. Sleepovers! Oh, my. Susan grabbed her old teddy bear and hugged him tightly. Her life was about to change. She could hardly believe it. She was so happy.
As Saturday morning dawned, sunny and clear, Susan threw off her covers and bounded out of bed with an energy she had never felt before. She just couldn’t stop smiling.
Across town, another set of bedcovers, tousled and warm, moved slightly as two heads stirred. Elena woke first, burrowed deeper into the familiar warmth of Dawn’s naked body, and smiled as she recalled the bewildered ecstasy of the freshman who had had such a crush on her all spring.
What was her name again?
Patrice's story
He went to bed every night. But first, he hung his clean and pressed pajamas on the door outside the bathroom—the idea of moisture on his lovely pajamas made him shudder.
He brushed his teeth. Flossed. Used mouthwash from the Baccarat decanter he stored it in. He missed Uli - it was Uli’s idea to use the crystal decanter for the mouthwash, though he was making fun of Kurt when he made the suggestion. Kurt liked the way it looked.
He did his skin protocol - five steps - gazing at himself in the mirror - life as it was now, as it would always be. He wiped the condensation from the mirror and then draped the microfiber cloth beneath the sink, out of sight.
He slid into the cool wrinkle-free pajamas, running his hands down the front appreciating the feel of the cloth. He had already turned down the bed - a perfect inviting triangle - a lonely single corner of the bed.
When Uli left, Kurt had moved the TV. into the bedroom - where for hours Kurt stared dry-eyed, suffering at the 47” screen, hating every minute, refusing sleep because sleep brought dreams and dreams brought Uli.
The sheets, crisp cotton, ironed, resisted him momentarily, then gradually softened. He turned to his left side - 1:30 - almost, almost fully down the pathway to sleep, he fell. He imagined Uli, his dark eyebrows like wings, his lovely skin smooth from the shower, uncovered because he refused to wear pajamas. Kurt put a pillow beneath his arm. Uli was not there.
Morning like a slap - the light from the window across his face.
Uli was still gone. There was a TV in his bedroom.
Someone woke up.
Jackie's story
I don’t really believe in ghosts, afterlife, and happenings of a psychic nature. But, I must tell you about an frightening experience I had the other night. I went to bed after a heavy dinner and perhaps a little too much to drink. I felt a little light headed and drove home through a slight fog – looking forward to putting on my pajamas and laying my head on the pillow for a good nights sleep.
When I lay down , strangely enough the room started to turn round and round rather dramatically. I watched the beams in my room close in on me and the bed started to spin uncontrollably. I was feeling rather ill by this time and but managed to see that the direction the bed was shifting. Seesawing from right to left as if it was alive I felt myself going from one side of the bed to the other. I felt it tip on its side and throwing me to the left side and I had to clutch the bedclothes tightly to stop falling off . This bed is bewitched I thought and as I tried to sit up some unknown being held my shoulders down by force and stopped me and my head seemed glued to the pillow. What was happening all around me and all of a sudden without notice the room started to shudder – like an earthquake – the stone walls grated against each other and the fillings between the joints started to fall off onto the floor and cover the floorboards with cement Soon I was spitting out the sand as it poured into my mouth – the bed sheets weighed heavily on my body. I could feel grit in my mouth. I tried to spit it out but my tongue was thick and stuck to the roof of my mouth. Everything was so topsy turvy that I didn’t have time to think about the situation and understand about what was happening.
I wondered if there was a dead animal in the room All of a sudden a white silhouette appeared at the foot of my bed. Floaty and indistinct accompanied by this terrible smell – a dead fox or even a bird in the forest smells bad but this smell was overpowering and nauseating. A voice out of the blue –I am Sylvia a ghost from years gone by I used to live in this house until a terrible accident took my life. I always slept on the right side of the bed and got ill, had perpetual accidents and finally died. This is a warning as you seem to be a nice lady – do not sleep on the right side which is the wrong side for women- the side that causes nightmares and sickness and other awfulness. Did you know that men most always choose the right side of a double bed and women the left. I have tried to shake you into reality but now I’ll be able to go in peace as I think you have learned your lesson.
I quickly moved over to the left side. Everything calmed down and from now on I shall only sleep on the left side -
Geraldine's story
She slammed the door, rushed to the bathroom, had a long recomforting pee, brushed her
teeth and got into her nice cosy bed, under her warm quilt, and cuddled into her own arms !
Sometimes a personal cuddle is easier than love with another person !
What had happened to her ? Why had her day been so hectic and exhausting ? Why was
she feeling so tired and miserable ?
The year before, when she’d had left Burgundy to go back to her house in the States, she
had had the shock of her life. As she and her husband were heading back to their sweet
home – a very warm wooden log house – they stopped the car in front of it, got out, gave a
warm eye to the garden and the trees around them, stretched out after the long trip back
home ready for a long sleep from the jetlag and opened the door.
They were greeted by a stinking smell that caught their throats and immediately caught sight
of the disaster : water everywhere ! When they stepped inside, the water was over their
anckles, molded patches everywhere, all their books warped on the shelves, the carpett half
floatting between ground and ceiling.
A cry rose up, with a gasp ! Hell ! what’s been going on in here !
Then the phone rang :
- Hello ! Ah it’s you Bill.
- Hello ! You’re back ! I wanted to call you as quickly as I could ! When I came in to put
the heating on and get your house ready for you to come back to, I found it flooded.
Investigating, I found that the water pipe leading to the bathroom had a major leak. I
don’t know when it started, but as you can see, the damage is tremendous ! I don’t
know wether it can help, but I’ve found a 2 bedroom flat for you in town where you
can settle for a couple of weeks already. I’ll be around in 5 minutes.
She threw herself into her husband’s arms holding him tight : it was as if she had let go, she
would have fallen straight to the ground ! And they stood there, embraced for a long long
time that would have lasted forever if Bill’s car hadn’t stopped in front of the house. He
walked towards them and gave them a huge hugh : in this situation, hughs are better than
words.
Things settled : they stayed a fourtnight in the place Bill had found for them, they got a price
for the house, they went there everyday with cardboard boxes filling them with books,
notes, pots, jars, plates, cuttelry, pans, clothes, her jewellery, his tennis rackets, their
bedclothing, their pillows, and so forth…
They found a new place to live in, smaller, but that was OK considering their age. It was
nearer her husband’s children (already grown up), in a bigger city, with more libraries, music
halls, a University thus young people around, everything to start a new life.
And now, back in France for the ritual 3 months there, she felt lost. Was she afraid of going
back home to a new disaster ? Did she feel disconnected from her local friendships with
people that hadn’t gone through a trauma like hers ? Or was she just too tired to get herself
together ? Everything seemed so far, so inacessible ? Did she need more compassion than
everyone was giving her ? She didn’t know. All she knew was ho tired she felt, how difficult
she found it to pick up a bit of strength to move, to get enthusisastic ? to want, really want
something ? Was she having a depression after all these sorrows and changes in her life ?
She didn’t know. She didn’t understand. She felt lost.
She was getting agressive with everyone around her. Couldn’t hear what they wanted to get
through to her. Would’nt take their compassion, was acting like a capricious child : self
centered, not available, wanting love but not seeing that it was all around her, wanting to
get away, get away !
Her family and friends were worried, very worried. What could they do for her ? Because
whatever they did was never right or never enough ! And after that evening when everyone
thought she was doing better, the clash ! More agressivity ! She had walked out, slammed
the door and gone to bed !
As her friend woke up in the morning and got out of bed, she very deeply hoped the day
would be better than the previous one , hoping for a real connection !
