The Writing Machine

Stories by Christian Cloud Abraham

Get Out Ghost

A DREAM

Sleeping, I heard a noise and felt a foreign presence and opened my eyes. Looking out the bedroom door, across the hall and into my office, I could see and hear a ghost walking around on the wooden floor, shuffling through my papers. Two louvers in the Venetian blinds by my desk pushed apart for a moment then closed as though the ghost took a quick look outside. Then, the ghost started to pace around my desk in circles. I was livid at the invasion of this ghost pacing around like a caged tiger and I tried to yell, “Get the fuck out of my house you fucking ghost,” but the words came out like I had a mouth full of cotton. I tried to yell even harder, in shorter bursts, “Get! out! Get! The! Fuck! Out!” But it only sounded like garbled pleas from a delirious and drugged man. Hearing my garbled yelling, my wife woke me from the dream.

END
© 2006 Christian Cloud Abraham

Posted on March 5, 2006 in
Emotion: Anger, Type: Dream