I'm not a stringent believer of superstitions (though I often take the 'wala namang mawawala kung susundin'-route) neither am I an ardent believer of ghosts.
What I do believe in, however, are hauntings.
Aside: I was so certain I had written something about this, sometime around 2006; I was looking for it in the dotcom and couldn't find it there. Apparently, it's in my [now locked-down] LiveJournal. Dated 2nd November 2006, it goes:
alone again on an october night -- nights like this, i could not sleep. i am kept awake by sounds of footsteps treading my worn carpet with a familiar, calculated pace.Oh dear young self -- please use proper caps. HAHA. (Though that ending is too true. To a degree, I'm still looking for this girl who used to write like this -- have you seen her? What, she's on indefinite vacation? That. Sucks.)
i get up to take a look. as expected, there's no one there.
there's a haunting i fear more than i do poltergeists and spirits, and that is the kind that involves a still-living memory. it is a haunting that is defined as hearing voices, and seeing and *feeling* things that are not there.
you are most likely the only haunting i've ever come across. that makes this apartment the most haunted place i have ever been in.
i heave a sigh as i head for the kitchen to heat water for my coffee. out of habit, i take out two cups and not one; i put the other one back in upon catching myself.
there are habits that are hard to let go of -- habits a lot like this, formed through several late night trysts, few and far between. years hence, they are still here, embedded, recurring every now and then. especially on nights as haunted as this.
(a faint but familiar laugh, a swish of a pale blue sundress in the corner of my eye, a knock on the door, the feel of coldwarm hands.)
there are ghosts in this room, and they're all you.
(More hauntings of same sort under cut)
Just as I was ribbing Max re: the sudden re-appearance of all her old people in her life, I myself get a curious message on Facebook. It goes, (severely paraphrased) "Hey, I was cleaning out my old inbox when I came across an old story you had e-mailed me years ago -- that one about sand and paper airplanes. Still brings tears to my eyes. Has it really been only six years?"
(Story in question is this. Max's question was: How much of this story is based on actual events? My response was: It's 2005. ALL OF IT. Haha, oh dear young self. I hug you.)
Of course, as I would reply to strangers, I said: This was such a weird message to receive, but thank you for the kind words. Then there was a brief exchange about SIX YEARS. Funny how time passes no? I mentioned how Andrea and I found an entire folder of her stuff in my old drive, and, similarly awed she said, Maybe I'll come get them someday.
Predictably, I said, Maybe I'll send them someday. End of.
Actually, before ultimately deciding against it altogether, I had wanted to remind her about that time I lost her Kerima Polotan book (oh man, remember how I lost that Kerima Polotan book which was the central metaphor of this very, very thinly veiled story that, as I have recently decided, I actually regret having written? And then remember how I ended that, with the protagonist finding the book eventually, but deciding to give it to someone else instead of returning it? And then, you know what, earlier this year it turned out that Andrea had that same book and now it is here beside me. I swear I am kind of psychic.)
Sometimes I have to wonder what it is the Universe has in store -- sending her boyfriend to my office, that near-miss at the train, and now this. I'm just curious, by the way. Whatever it is, I am so ready. I am a fan of circles closing. I know somewhere, someone in a similar bad place right now could use this sort of encouragement, so here it is: Dear you, once someone told me I'd make someone very truly happy. It didn't happen that year, or the year after that, or even the year after that -- but when it did, it absolutely blew me away.
Incidentally, today is our 47th monthsary. Andrea and I are hitting 4 YEARS next month. Other equivalents -- a high school diploma, a college degree, a toddler (haha, our favorite metaphor.) After all this time, it still blows my mind. I was sick over the weekend, but I am well now, thanks to her supernatural healing powers. (And I kid you not.)
Last night's weird dream involved: mountain climbing, my ex-girlfriend running after me with a flier, me running away saying I have a girlfriend! and a scary bus ride chauffeured by foreigners. I have been dreaming about buses and Sagada again. I wonder what is up with that.
Oh my, my head's been mighty busy. Must be the fever.