Home from the tramp across England and Scotland ... and I picked up a ghost. Yes, I am committing it to print, and I don't mind if you, dear reader whoever you may be, think that I'm just makin' it up ... or imagining it for the sake of the story. But I am not. And even though I mulled over it for days, even still, I am so ... full of it ... that I have to tell it one more time.
After a long day of driving, which I love doing ... but is challenging when on the other side of the road, which in and of itself isn't bad, but for the fact that the gear shift is on the left and it is my right hand that is rote with the motion ... and the winding roads up and down mountains ... made me tired. After dinner and a pint, my head hit the pillow and I was out. I was in a twin bed next to my mother, also snug in her twin.
At some time in the night, I awoke, sat straight up and a huge force escaped my diaphragm ... I grunted, not screamed. Light after the leaving, I fell back down, turned to my mother and gasped, 'did it come through the window?' I should confess that I have been known to sleep walk and talk and have vivid, sometimes horrifying, dreams ... my mother has seen it all out of me and so yeah, yeah, yeah'd me and went back to sleep.
But what was it? Who was it? It felt like it left ... where did I pick it up. But I wonder if it came in through the window ... did it come and then leave? I have so many questions, and I really do wonder.
It didn't scare me though ... I didn't get up to close the window.
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