I knew the ghost was there - just as I have felt the
presence of many ghosts since I moved to Virginia. And I knew what the ghost was
going through. She was thinking of her childhood, and the pain it brought.
I always thought that the painful separation from the
real world, the fall from grace, and the suffocating roles that followed, only
smothered me alone. Others seemed to adapt miraculously. So, I tried to ignore
it, almost managed to, numbing myself in all ways I could think of. And dared
to. Because, different from this ghost, whose name was Lou-Ann and who killed
herself of an overdose of heroin in the seventies, I have always been
chicken-shit when it comes to hard drugs, knowing well I would end up in a
psychiatric ward just by looking at them. There are many ways to strive towards
oblivion, however. Most are sanctioned by society.
To grow up is a hellish thing. If I believed in hell.
Which I don't. No other than the man-made one anyway. Sometimes it seems that
the loss of innocence is an accepted thing, only seen as a crime if it can be
blamed on abuse. As if your free roaming spirit has to be beaten out of your
body by angry hands.
I was never abused. I was a loved child in a grand
family. Being the youngest I was sometimes almost forgotten, left to my own
adventures. Which suited me fine. Sometimes I was also spoiled rotten. I didn’t
mind that either. The abuse was the world crashing in, those dark entangled
webs created to hold you in place. I fought with all the might my skinny being
could muster up. As it turned out, that was not enough.
"It's part of growing up," they say.
But it shouldn't be.
It wasn't only me. It was also her. The ghost whose
name is Lou-Ann. Who turned to drugs because growing up was too hard. I'm
pretty sure she never meant to die. Her death was a mistake. A horrible moment
of misjudgment with lethal consequences.
Me, I can still re-model myself with time. Perhaps
have a near-death experience and see it all anew. Something broken, something
gained. Lou-Ann never had the time to set things right. Never had the time to
reclaim her innocence, her real self, her strength to live the way she wanted
to.
What is a ghost, if not an unlived life?
I had to restore her. Give her what she needed. I
decided to do a journey to the Underworld. It was a long time ago since I did
that. But the Underworld is the place where lost pieces of self can be found.
And Lou-Ann needed those pieces right now.
There should be a word when the terrain has changed
shape but is emotionally, absolutely familiar. There should be a word for
traveling in the world some call the astral but seeing almost the same thing as
you do with your physical eyes, only seeing … a bit more. There should be words,
and maybe there are, in some language.
I did not know. I dove down in the muddy waters of the
creek and followed the roots of the southwest guardian tree - the tree with the
giant branch-arm. Here I found a landscape I already knew, though I never saw
it like this. There was a river, wide and still, and trees old with wisdom. A
canoe was waiting for me: light and smooth. Stepping into it was like stepping
into a well-known secret; a secret of soft movements. The canoe glided
effortlessly on the water surface.
I looked for a power animal for Lou-Ann, though I had never
heard of journeying for a power animal for a ghost. I didn't know what to
expect: something wild and strong perhaps, a ferocious protector. Instead I found
a hedgehog, the sweetest thing you can imagine, with squinting eyes. He opened
and closed his little hands, making me remember the hedgehogs in my childhood,
curious but cautious, hiding behind raised spikes if threat was near. I carried
him to the canoe and carefully put him in my lap. Then I headed back through
the dreamy landscape, that was as real as any landscape, one water-dripping
paddle stroke at the time.
Lou-Ann greeted me unexpectedly on the shore. I left
her there, hedgehog in arms, with talking trees and healing grounds all around.
For a while she would remain at the corner of my unconscious, in the
Underworld, where she could grow stronger. I felt her. Part of her wanted to
crawl back into the folds of oblivion. But that was not an option anymore.
"Bring them to the light!" they said.
"Bring them to heaven." But Lou-Ann didn't want to go to heaven. She
wanted to find a dusty ghost truck and drive from state to state, picking up
lost-soul-hitchhikers along the way, and to make friends. She wanted to
experience the world, on her own terms, and do everything she longed to do when
she was still alive, until one day the truck becomes a spaceship ready to fly
over the starry skies.
By Sofia Karin Axelsson
This story was first published in The October edition of The Echo World. More Ghost stories to come ...
