I read further into Carl Hoffman’s book tonight. My opinion has changed some.
…I’m trying to process what I read.
One night as I was drifting off to sleep I imagined marrying Michael. And he took me to the house he claimed he’d have lived in when he met me. Tonight I was prompted to look for pictures of the house where he grew-up as I read further into the book. …I’m pretty sure I found photos of it… It was almost exactly as it was in my mind. That’s…too odd…
We sat in the kitchen late at night. He pulled out a gun. He gave it to me across the table. He said, “Use it if you have to.”
Except that never happened. Or did it?
As I sit in my dark room looking around at the shadows, worried I’ll have to go into the doctor again tomorrow…I’m amused.
…Death really isn’t something to fear except if it isn’t your time, your family (and friends) will be badly affected, and/or if you’re not right with Jesus. It is not something to embrace. But it shouldn’t be feared either…
I don’t want to die yet though. Ironically…I worry not just about how it would affect my kids…but…I feel uneasy dying with things the way they are currently with dead men. *laugh* …I probably won’t though. It’s unlikely. …But there’s just something about being sick like this that totally freaks me out. …I don’t know why.
…As long as one’s right with God…it shouldn’t be Hell. But…it scares me.
Alive there’s space. But I have no idea what Purgatory would look like at this point.
Should I be interacting with ghosts out of God’s mercy and compassion…much like a Christian Asmat…who would run off with me as I crossed-over? *laugh* And I mean that literally. …Joe likely fought off any competition. And won.
“He did.” says his brother, Bobby.
Would Michael win? Or would Lem? Or?
I know that sounds..stupid…but…
I’d like to die when this…wild brilliance…is settled. Better, at least.
…My crush isn’t responding again. …But maybe he’s shy?
…It’s just…do ghosts exist? And am I talking to ghosts? If I am…Michael and Lem and others really are ferocious. And I hope if my crush is interested that he’s just sort of shy. Or that he’s not interested… Because golly it’s tempting to live like a Christian Asmat. Even if it’s Lem, so to speak…
Don’t try to though. Please. Please. …I have no idea what’s going on…really.
…Two things come to mind. First, do I look this this man:
If so…my mother was a stewardess. And…no. I don’t have a double chin. I was just nervous in those photos. I bet he was too…
Or do I have eyes like this fellow?:
…The first man was born in the 1890’s. The second in the 1940’s. I was raised by the second.
What do you think? …I’ll know for sure someday. …And no, my father (if I’m a love child, so to speak) was certainly not a pervert. He was a huge womanizer though. He had multiple mistresses and one permanent one. And a wife (who died in the 1970’s?). No kids… My mother was entirely an adult…and supposedly very beautiful according to the father who raised me (he was her friend). And he took her flight…
He was very careful not to have kids. I’ve discussed this… …And they all loved him. Dearly. He was just that brilliant. And evil and complicated and probably decent in his own way too. …I may be alive because he refused to permit an abortion. …I’d like to think my possible birth mother would have chosen that too, but my gut sense is that he prevented pregnancies diligently but was possibly ultimately pro-life. And he made the choice for her to keep me to some degree…
My kids were worth being born for. End of story in that regard.
I’ll find out more later. But golly…today looking at photos of myself just made me really think about this.
Regardless, when I was once at my ex-husband’s apartment…that he shared with a roommate…and he was gone…and I stayed there alone for a few days…images of a black man raced through my head. And this man felt terrifying. Ghostly. Present. It felt like something demonic was involved…and yet…not? It was ultimately very scary because he felt…like a scary person.
And the last day I was there I went into his roommate’s bathroom for some reason I can’t recall…and on the way in there I saw a drawing of the man I’d seen running around the apartment in my head.
“Who’s the man in your roommate’s bedroom?” I asked my then boyfriend when he returned. Actually, he’d been on vacation in Mexico with another girl. *eye-roll* But I was so inquisitive and baffled and in love and open-minded that I kept dating him after that. Married him.
“That’s my roommate’s father, I think. He’s dead.” he responded.
“Oh! I think I saw his ghost!” I said. I recall being confused because his roommate was so sweet (he too enjoyed “Mad Men”) and this man was…terrifying.
My ex was totally unimpressed. Totally. To him somehow…somehow…it was…normal? *confused look* But that’s both his weakness and strength. His absolute ennui about almost everything…and yet his work ethic, brilliance and determination to be nobel and moral and good. …I guess ghosts did not and do not scare him.
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