I May See Dead People
I moved to Newtown, CT and am very happy for a change.
My landlord/roommate is Tom.
Cool like a summer breeze.
10 acres of trees and visions of starting my own farm growing pot that I would strictly sell.
At 23 5% TLC, watch out Chronic!
Tom and I were talking Thursday, still in the ‘We’ve made a quasi commitment but will you be there “When I’m Sixty Four?” ‘stage.
I had slept here Wednesday night. Quite restful and I felt good, going to the gym early.
But I had this feeling- a nice one mind you- very different. There was this soothing energy in the room. Like one of those vibrating beds you shoot quarters into in dive motels, not quite as strong.
I have had good karma about this house from the minute I walked in. I knew it was old, but not quite sure just how much. Tom said his bedroom that’s on the first floor was the entire structure built in 1727. That didn’t seem possible but after a google search, it is. How fucking cool is that? 282 years. That means there has to be a ton of history. I may get around to researching the people who’ve both lived and died here. It wouldn’t surprise me some are buried on the property. I may go out in the woods and look but knowing my luck I’ll stumble on a Pet Semetary and have fucking dead cats at the door clawing to gain entry.
Tom told me he’s seen a ‘Yogi’ Bear (about 175 lbs.) twice over the last 18 months. I was like ‘cool, but can you tell him my dog Buck is not a ‘picanick basket’?
Then he dropped the bombshell.
“We have a ghost”.
He said it so nonchalantly, I started to laugh.
“We do. Ask my girlfriend. We hear him walking upstairs sometimes. He’s nice though and whenever he bothers us, I yell up there to stop. And he does.”
Me- “Who is it?”
Tom- “I think it was some old rummy that died in Gary’s room in the 1920’s”
Thursday night- same soothing feeling. But no footsteps.
As I was sitting here Friday night at 8 PM alone trading barbs with Amy4Birds who posted another great blog---
I heard him.
It was a man’s voice very nice and friendly. Sounded young- in his 20’s.
It was clear as a bell. It came from behind me. But rather than being scared and jumping out the window, I just kept typing and said “What’s up?” like a buddy had just walked in the room.
While writing this at 4:45 a.m. Saturday morning, he knocked on my bed stand.
I thought it was my dog, but he’s nowhere near it.
That did make me jump a little, sending brief shivers down my spine.
I said “Dude, I’m writing- don’t bother me right now. If anything, go get me more coffee please.”
I guess he’s lazy because I still had to get it myself.
Tom does not know his name. Gary, my other roommate, said he hasn’t seen him.
So, I think I need to call him something so we can know each other better.
Your mission, if you choose to accept it, is to give my friend a name and tell me who is and why he’s lurking around.
 I’m working on “Nightmare Off Elm St.”, Jimbobaloulee. It’s taking a tad more of research than I’d imagined. Bear with me bro, it’ll be worth the wait.
 I may try for a hybrid like Bill Murray did in Caddyshack. I can’t give you my address because all you smart guys will Google Map me and invade my forest and steal my crop. Or worse, call 911.