Afternoon visitor

I am not a very mystical person. After a little early training as a psychonaut I became well aware that the fabric of our existence might have a few rents and tears but I just don't choose to dwell on the holes in the swiss cheese. Doesn't bear a lot of fruit in my internal cost benefit analysis.

I accept that there is a reality beyond my puny comprehension but I have no idea as to its workings. If I ever need to know, I figure the universe can give me a refresher course when the time is right.

The reason I bring this all up is that I think I saw a ghost the other day. Now many people claim to see corporeal forms all the time but I don't. In fact this makes two in 55 years and well, I was a little stressed last time, might have been my imagination playing tricks on me.

I was of sound, unaltered, rational mind, leisurely sprawled on my couch, warm blanket covering my legs, deep into a science fiction story by Asimov when I chanced to look up towards my bing cherry colored western wall to see a young girl's face in the oval mirror above the electric fan. Her hair was pulled back fairly tightly, her skin was fair, her collar victorian. Pretty in a Grace Kelly, Hepburn way, I would say about 22 years of age.

I turned towards the stairwell, above the vacuum cleaner, to see who had gained entry to my home and second story. Odd, there was no one there. I then looked back at the mirror, only to realize that there was no mirror. I had never had a mirror there of any kind, not to mention an oval one. But I definitely saw one there the other day. For a split second.

Now my first thought was tying in with some of my ideas for a new short story. Perhaps the Mayan/McKenna solstice event wasn't about the world ending at all? Maybe it was about the seams of our life experience busting a bit, the previously solid getting a little spongier and in congruent and the parameters of our life paradigm now undergoing a major reset. In this way maybe there is a little opening for the ghosts, not to mention the monsters under the bed.

I mentioned that I had seen a ghost at a Christmas Eve gathering, to one of the guests, Adria, who gave me a very strange, hard look, her skin changing to a slightly colder color. She had seen one as well, over her vacuum cleaner, the very same day. What is up with our Hoovers and Orecks? Is that large sucking sound the very fabric of our universe finding it's way to our dimension through our bloody vacuum cleaners? The wormhole was in the utility closet the whole time?

Told the folks about this on the way to breakfast. Carmen said that it is a well known fact that ghosts like to inhabit electrical appliances. Why am I the last person who ever hears about this stuff? Will let you know if I see the young damsel in the looking glass again. Seriously.