Every now and again, your memories torture you. They shred your wishes and dreams and they thrash your desires against the rocks like waves in brutal storms. There’s a lesson there, somewhere, if only you can learn it. But if there’s no lesson, at least there’s pain, a reminder of every mistake you’ve ever made.
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Juan, I like the way your mind works. And thanks, Trisha, for the compliment!
“There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Then are dreamt of in your philosophy.”
When I was a boy I knew ghosts as things that came bumping in the night … things that came from the devil or from hell that crept from windows or from underneath my bed.
But as I grew older, I came to know ghosts as past memories of mine … things that I did, that I should not have done … or at least still hold as “a questionable action.”
I once fired a man from his job in a fit of anger. That ghost visits me often. Why did I do that?
I once said something in anger to my son that I should not have said. That ghost visits it me, too.
Catholic confessions never help.
And so I think that the sins we do are the stuff of ghosts….the ill actions of old men & women that come straight from hell.
I like this post, John, even though its dark, I feel your meaning.