Thoughts I've thunk while sippin' at a cup of tea and reading something provoking, often get dropped here for the benefit of humanity and my own hubris.
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Karrie reminded me of something I’ve been thinking about for a couple of weeks now. Many people believe that the dead can see and hear. I mean, I always felt that when I “become a happy phantom” that I’m going to fly over and explore the Egyptian pyramids and the Eiffel Tower and what not. You know, as if death is the ultimate vacation.
But why do we assume that the dead can see and not necessarily feel or smell? Is it our cultural valuing of various senses?
Most anthropologists who think that the concept of life after death originated from people dreaming about family members who have died. So part of me thinks that since we dream in sights and sounds, we think the dead are too.
As if death is just a long dream…
Perhaps it is my cultural upbringing, but I have never been too afraid of death, and actually intrigued by it. Sure, logically you can say that if there isn’t any else, you won’t notice. But I do like the concept of an undetectable, incorporeal bundles of senses that still exist as an individual identity. But of course, that is just my ego wishing for self-preservation. 
But if one can see the paintings in the Louvre when you’re dead, why not pop over to Karrie’s house to watch her bathe. When I asked this question as a wee lad, I was told that God wouldn’t allow it, but that he could still see you. That certainly makes you feel better, no?
Of course, I think that floating around me and watching my life would actually be pretty boring after a while. I mean, sure there is the glitz and the flash that is my life, but even watching me strut in front of the full-length bathroom mirror would be tedious after a few hours.
Unless it is your Grandma who wants to see how you grow up, and you’d think that she’d respect you enough to give you a bit of privacy. I always told my Grandma that before she died, to stop by and haunt me regularly. Of course, that would make her visibly upset and she thought that would be mean to scare the ones you love. But how can you be scared of your grandma?
The older I get, the more I am ok— actually, it is the more I cherish— the fact that we don’t know anything. The greatest mystery will always be a mystery. Some day I’ll solve it… but hopefully not before I get to be a grandpa, so that I can come back and haunt my grandchildren.
And I’ll go chasin’ the nuns out in the yard
And I’ll run naked through the streets without my mask on
And I will never need umbrellas in the rain
I’ll wake up in strawberry fields every day
And the atrocities of school I can forgive
The happy phantom has no right to bitch
The time is getting close
Time to be a ghost
Every day we’re getting closer
The sun is getting dim
Will we pay for who we’ve been?
So if I die today I’ll be the happy phantom
And I’ll go wearin’ my naughties like a jewel
They’ll be my ticket to the universal opera
There’s Judy Garland taking Buddha by the hand
And then these seven little men get up to dance
They say Confucius does his crossword with a pen
I’m still the angel to a girl who hates to sin
The time is getting close
Time to be a ghost
Every day we’re getting closer
The sun is getting dim
Will I pay for who I’ve been?
Or will I see you dear and wish I could come back
You found a girl that you could truly love again
Will you still call for me when she falls asleep
Or do we soon forget the things we cannot see
© 2004-2005, Howard Abrams • Except where otherwise noted, all original content is licensed under a Creative Commons License (see details).
My great-grandmother used to tell me about seeing ghosts all the time. And my grandmother saw my great-grandmother one time while my great-grandmother was still alive but in an Alzheimer’s coma in a nursing home. I guess she popped over to tell my grandmother where her missing rings were.
I’ve never seen anybody, and have always been jealous of people who do. On the other hand, I’m sure it would scare the bejezzus out of me, so it’s probably just as well.
Comment posted on Wednesday, 23 June 2004
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