Ghosts: Not Just a Metaphor

One night I awakened to find a man at the end of my bed, looking down at me. I had half a heart attack, and accidentally elbowed my sleeping boyfriend in the face while I was trying to sit up. It turns out there was nothing there. It’s not the first time I think I’ve seen someone (uninvited, mind you) in my apartment. It’s always happened at night, though sometimes it’s a man and sometimes it’s a woman. I’m always awakened by something and see them, but they vanish or go away almost immediately. I guess in all fairness, the people I’m seeing have never really done anything, so maybe I shouldn’t be too concerned. And I’m one of those people that always looks for a logical explanation, so I do think it’s quite possible I’m deliriously tired and hallucinating. Even so, I’m not taking any chances, so I blessed the shit out of my place with some holy water. This is in addition to the crucifix I have hanging above my front door, and the fact that I half believe that you have to invite demons into your home in order for them to enter. I think I heard that last part on an episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer or something. So at this point my beliefs about ghosts and spirits are a mixture of skepticism, religion, and cheesy 90’s sitcom admonitions. In any case, this doesn’t weigh too heavily on me on a day-to-day basis. However, yesterday my boyfriend told me a little secret. He said that one day, when he’d been at my place while I was at work, he was sleeping and awoke to see the man I’d described from a previous encounter. He said the man was in the same place as when I’d seen him, peering down at where I would have been. After several “Are you serious?” pleadings from me, he assured me he wasn’t joking and wasn’t just trying to scare me. So I guess we have ghosts. Fantastic.