Pat

December 26, 2008

--Pat

I call the Ghost, Pat. I don’t know if Pat is a Boy, Girl, Man, Woman or an It for that matter. But whatever Pat is, Pat made a reappearance the other night. I’m laying in bed, early morning, still dark outside, staring at the Casa Blanca wall, and a light comes on. No, not an electric light from above or the lamp that sits in my room. This light was a glowing greenish tone dim light that covered the window and part of the vacant wall near it. It was on for a few seconds then disappeared. Okay, now that’s spooky. I’m a little scared, well maybe not. I’m not scared of a ghost, a little spirit, come on!?

If there was truly a ghost, I would welcome it. I would welcome Pat to join me and get high on these drugs with me. I think these drugs must have taken me for a ride to the haunted house again.

I still stared at the window and empty wall beside it to see if the light came on again. No, it didn’t. Just that one time. Just like the one whisper I heard the other day. There must be a simple explanation. Maybe the light came from the outside. Maybe a car drove by. No, I didn’t hear a car drive by. It’s like 5am or so. I think Russell is the only one up and rolling at this time in this Ghetto Farm. Maybe the next door neighbor’s window is near and turned her light on to get her day going. No, the lig ht was from the inside. The light would not have braced against the inside wall near the window. And plus if it was from the outside, the shadow of the tree would appear. Maybe it would look like the shadow of a ghost, maybe it would look like Pat. No, this light provided no ghost silhouette shadows. This light was the shape of a rectangle.

Russell continued to crow and I moved on and fell asleep.