Where ​There's Smoke (Leaving Time 0,4) 4 csillagozás

Sometimes life isn’t fair.

“It’s a small world,” she says.
“Yes indeed,” I reply, “but I still wouldn’t want to paint it.”

It’s funny, how fast life changes. One minute you are present, and the next, you might find yourself futilely trying to get back to the world you were once part of. You might find yourself looking for people who can no longer hear you. You are in the world, but not of it. I might as well be a ghost.

I am willing to walk that dotted line between two metaphysical planes, but I need a filter. I don’t want spirits popping through walls all day long and saying, “Ooh, there’s my grandbaby, say hello for me.”

When your life is cut short abruptly, there’s an anger that swells, a bitter appetizer to any subsequent feeling.

Usually when spirits come to connect with a loved one, they try to give me a picture of a memory they both have, as if to say, See, I’m still me and I’m real . (Because honestly, isn’t that what we all want? To be real to someone?)

That’s what hearing a spirit feels like: an involuntary reflux. A hiccup. It’s just there, and you can’t make it go away.

We are all psychic to a degree. How many times do you walk into a room and just know there’s tension in there? How many times have you thought about an old friend, and then she calls? Or had a dream about your grandma and you wake up and find the lost earring you inherited from her? It’s like making a psychic telephone call: you send energy into the universe , and it comes back to you.

Yes, spirits have sex, and no, I’m not telling you how. But even in the spirit world there are emotions and free will. The same things that trip you up as a human will tie you in knots as a spirit, if you don’t let go and let God.

Sometimes, all you can do is watch things burn, and wait for the ash to settle.