03 August 2015

Notes. - wkg on Dead 9 / afternoon / a ghost story

         Not yet noon local time. I have the first installment of Dead – Nine. – Amorella

         ** **
NINE
Sticking Point

            The Supervisor has a little saying:
                                    Ring-a-ring o'rosies
                                    A pocket full of posies
                                    "A-tishoo! A-tishoo!"
                                    We all fall down!

                                    We rise from clay
                                    On judgment day
                                    Be we dead or still alive.



The Dead 9

            I, Merlyn, Bard of old Scotland, recognise the central dream in these books of dreams – a better world for the Living to raise their children and their children’s children. I speak for myself, as all the Dead are wont to also do. Who do I speak to, a Betweener. How do I speak? In my humanity, in my spirit, that which is composed of heartansoulanmind and is driven by the passion of good will to all Homo sapiens. The Living are less than a hundred years of so from the Dead. In the long course of time, this is not much. The spirit however reflects from the physical world without time. It is not so abstract as is the sense of freedom promoted by the concept of free will. What is freedom to the Dead? Nothing.

            What is there to be free from? Nothing. I am free to dream my dreams and catalogue them in book form because I love scrolls and books electronic or otherwise – it is in my nature that which is placed nugget-like in the shell of my humanity. Words are reason’s form; dreams are emotion’s form.

            Reason and emotion are the human spirit’s time and space filtering agent, an adaptive processing array of the senses. Ground clutter interference and pulse-Doppler-like waveforms among the Dead. To see without eyes and to hear without ears promotes a revelation of felt clarity not smelled or tasted among the Living. Dreams, vivid or not, are the closest proximity to being Dead. Look to your own dreams – what is the clarity? How did you discover this clarity? Search your own mystery and you will do battle with the freedom in free will. Freedom in spiritual form does not exist. The human spirit composed of heartansoulanmind has nothing to be free from.

         ** **

         1145 hours. This is very odd contextually. “What is there to be free from?” This is unorthodox thinking. I don’t know if I agree or disagree. I keep thinking of Martin Luther King’s words: “ Free at last, free at last, Thank God almighty we are free at last.”

         Carol and Linda just arrived home. Later. – Amorella

         You drove into Blue Ash to eat lunch at Marx Bagels, then back to Mason then over to Joseph Road and Joseph Toyota Repair Center off Colerain, dropped off the car and returned to Mason in the Honda. Linda is napping and Carol is about to do so. – Amorella

         1614 hours. It was a busy afternoon I am almost ready for a nap myself.


         Post. - Amorella

         2130 hours. We had snack suppers and watched the DVRed “Poldark” from last night during which I remembered the town set was from the Moll Flanders film of about fifteen years ago or it sure looks like it. We have enjoyed this first season and look forward to next summer’s second season.

         Carol and Linda have a ghost story and you should not ignore it for you have had a few of your own over the years. Both were asleep in separate bedrooms last Saturday night, two weeks to the night Mary Lou died. They heard several noises during the night that woke them up. Once the noise was loud enough that Linda went downstairs thinking someone had broken into the house hoping to find it empty. Carol followed more slowly but neither saw anyone and there was no evidence someone had broken in. The door locks were rechecked and they were still locked. When they went back upstairs they found the door to Linda’s bedroom closed (she had left it open) and the light was on in their shared bedroom (and it had been off). Linda thought it was Mary Lou, Carol did not know what to think other than it was indeed strange. And, today when they arrived they confessed the story to you. – Amorella

         2146 hours. I did not think about the story and to be honest here I am perplexed but ever doubtful even though I have had similar stories, but none recent with Mary Lou as the central figure. As I was transcribing your words of this previous paragraph the hair on my forearms stood forth. It provided such an eerie setting what with you telling the ghost story and not myself.

         You did not wish to mention it because such stories are embarrassing to your greater sense of reason. Are they not? – Amorella

         2151 hours. Upon hearing their witnessed story I immediately thought of what you had said the other day, about how it would be to ‘awaken’ and to find one’s self dead. Certainly a shock, you agreed. Two weeks to the middle of the night when she most plausibly died. Two physical weeks might be as a moment or less and would it be possible to stir within the house, then go upstairs and turn on the light as if to look into the mirror and find no reflection. How would that be? I do not like to think on such things to directly. Though my dead father once said to me in the night, “Take care of your mother.” His words, his inflection and meter. This was two days after his death. Surely he would think such of thing if he were able. I heard it from inside my head without the sound passing through my ears. So, what can I say to Carol and Linda though I would like to laugh it all off.

         You keep yourself honest in context though you do not like a word of it. Post. – Amorella


         2159 hours. Why do you continue to do this, Amorella – forcing me to admit something when I know it surely is/was mostly imagination at work and private storytelling at best – a storytelling best kept within the family. I feel so foolish but nevertheless those hairs on my forearms rose right up and mostly straight. Spookiness – it exists in the human mind whether I like it or not. Sometimes I wish I could deny my humanity, my weaknesses, but I cannot. I will not. - rho

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