Yesterday, I started writing a post and accidentally deleted it before it “posted”.  I wouldn’t mention it except this next post I need to write refers back to the deleted one, so I’ll quickly summarize what I’d written:

We had a ghost come to visit my sweetie in our warehouse while she was working.  While Sweetie works, she listens to music from her laptop computer.  She noticed a food scoop swinging on its hook, right next to other scoops which were not moving.  She said,

“Okay, if that’s a spirit, keep that scoop swinging until the end of this song.”

The scoop continued to swing, prodded by an invisible finger, until the end of the song.  The song ended and the computer turned itself off.  You know, just in case there was any doubt there was a ghost in da’ house.

I went to the warehouse later and got in touch with him – the spirit likes to be called “Bush Man” or “Forest Man”.  He did not need help finding heaven, he has heaven right here.  He looks after all of the animals and trees in the bush, along his traditional trail.  He showed me baby birds in a nest, hidden mink in their burrow.  I understood this is exactly what he loves to do, but like any being, it’s nice to have others aware of your existence.  He was just coming in to say hello.

Sweetie was telling a friend of our’s about this little incident, and here’s the thing – it turns out our friend Gord is completely psychic!

Sweetie said, “Oh and our warehouse is haunted.”

Gord replied, “Oh you mean that place next door?”

“No, the warehouse – wait, what’s wrong with that place next door???”

We have a boathouse next door to our apartment that is utterly creepy.  Gord says that bad people used to hurt men in that boat house.  We haven’t asked for more details, yet.  Damn, there is just so much work that needs to be done on our (rented) property.

Thus begins the dialogue.  I can’t believe this guy we’ve known for fifteen years has been completely psychic and it never came up in conversation before.

Gord then started talking about Ben, another friend of ours who died a few years ago when his motorcycle hit an oncoming transport truck.  Ben went to visit Gord and showed him how to have out of body experiences at will.

I can’t believe I didn’t think of trying to contact Ben myself.

So last night, while putting up the Christmas tree, Ben came through.  He always had a dark, teasing sense of humour, and I think being a spirit has made it worse:

“So, I think it’s awesome you guys are lesbians now,” he said, by way of a greeting.  He had died about six months before Sweetie & I had gotten together.

He was full of these sorts of teasing things.  “Yeah!  I totally watch you two having sex now!”

OH MY GOD!  You do not!

I know he hasn’t, but all the same, next time we go to bed we’re casting a *privacy* energy curtain.  I would not put it past Ben to pop in just to be a tease.

“Yeah, I get into strip clubs all the time, now I get lap dances for free!”  He showed himself sitting on the lap of a biker getting a lap dance.

It’s so funny, I knew he was thinking up all these things to tease his feminist lesbian friends.

Still fumbling with the Christmas tree, I grumbled, “You know Ben, we’re trying to get this tree up.  You could help us.  Any suggestions?”

“Get a man to do it!”

OH,  HAW-HAW BEN!  What a bugger.

Imagine what he said when I complained the screws for the tree stand weren’t long enough.

Turns out Ben was psychic when he was alive too – he said he could see all the spirits around Sweetie at the last New Year’s party we’d all been at together.  He said he was impressed her spirit friends were so cool.  I think that Sweetie’s Uncle, the greaser who was murdered, just looks really bad-ass and invited a few of his friends to the party.  To most people it looked like Sweetie was sitting on the couch by herself, watching the party, but Ben saw her surrounded by a crowd.

At some point I got tired and had to send Ben home.  We invited him for Christmas.  He asked if we’d put a glass of wine out for him, and we will.

I feel so happy to have another friend back.

One thought on “Ben

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