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Ghosts Don't Do Chores

Living on the upper floor of a 20-level high-rise apartment building, my fiancé became suspicious that our apartment had a ghost. I had a feeling she was right, but the ghost did not seem give off any dangerous energy, so I said in a half-jesting voice, “Ghost, if you are in our apartment, move something.” A second went by. Nothing. Then, the door to the ironing closet in the kitchen swung open. “Okay” I said, “now close the door.” The door closed. “Take the dishes from the drying rack and put them away.” After I said this, a bloated, yellowish-green arm with stubby fingers materialized and began putting the dishes away. It amused me to watch the arm put our dishes away, but then I thought to myself, if I were trapped for eternity as a morphing vapor I may not find it very funny putting someone else’s dishes away. So I asked the ghost, “Do you like doing chores?” The arm turned my way, but did not respond. “Oh yeah,” I said, “you can’t talk. Okay, if you like doing chores, give me a thumbs up.” The arm turned an emphatic thumbs down. “Okay, if you like to play, give me a thumbs up.” And the arm moved up and down in a big excited thumbs up.

END
© 2005 Christian Cloud Abraham

Posted on September 18, 2005 in
Emotion: Wonder, Type: Dream