I slept over my parent's house a few weeks ago, the night before leaving for a trip. Feeling a bit restless, I went for a late-night walk. Since they live in the South Loop, there's not a lot of nature to absorb, so I took a couple laps around a small fountain just a few blocks from their house. A pathway circled the fountain, which had a stone hawk as its centerpiece, it's wings stretched wide and washed in the fountain's spray.
I had been circling the same stretch of pavement for 20 minutes, looping the fountain, before I noticed the white footprints on the asphalt. Eerie footprints jumping this way and that. I froze. When did these get here? What. The. Fuck. Is. Going. On.
Like an irrational and excitable human, my immediate thought was: a g-g-g-g-ghost!
It had to have been a ghost, I thought, because they had not been there before. I'd walked this same stretch countless times and there was nothing of note on the ground. And no person could have been by here without me seeing them. I mean, I was RIGHT HERE.
But to pretend I had a brush with the paranormal would be to miss the reality, which is (almost) as thrilling. And that's this: sometimes we aren't ready to see what's in front of us. Let's get real. Those prints had been there from the very beginning of my walk, but because there was so much other stuff I was "seeing" in my head, I couldn't see what was right in front of me.
Two "lessons" hit me right away: 1) I am way to quick to assume a "ghosts" explanation and 2) I'm too self-involved. The whole world plays out before you, and yet you only see the stories and desire of your own mind. If you're missing small, obvious things, what else are you missing? It was a great wake-up call.
Seriously though. It was a ghost right?
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