it was a dark and stormy night...

...i know, i know, that's supposed to be the worst, most trite sentence ever written, right? but i wanted to get your attention.

last week, as you know, my sister and her boyfriend were visiting and we made a little journey over to the west coast of denmark since they had a hankering to taste the north sea. i rented a little holiday apartment with a thatched roof in blåvand, which is just a stone's throw from blåvandshuk, the westernmost point of denmark.

it was after dark when we arrived and raining, windy and cold. our intrepid tourists were jetlagging and tired from the long drive and looking at large rune-covered rocks along the way:

the jellingesten - denmark's "birth certificate"

husband and i wanted to shake off the long drive and get some fresh air. outside, it was the kind of wind that drives the cold needles of rain straight into your face and leaves you frozen to the bone. but, being half danish (the other half is swedish, i'm still trying after ten years to determine which half is which), husband declared that there was no bad weather, only bad clothing for the weather, so we put on our wellingtons, coats, hats and gloves and headed out. monica, jason and sabin stayed behind in the warmth of the cozy little apartment. 

we jumped in the car and followed the signs for the beach. it was so dark, you couldn't see much else.

before long, the light from the lighthouse came into view, but otherwise, the night was pitch black, except for the reflection of the flash on a reflective sign. what was coming down was something near slush...an icy mixture of rain and snow.

we got out of the car and gave our eyes a chance to adjust to the darkness, then we headed down the path towards the wild sound of the north sea pounding on the shore. just as my eyes were more or less adjusted and i could make out the path, a specter arose on the right, blocking out the rhythmic and comforting pass of the light from the lighthouse.

i grabbed husband's hand and felt my heart race. it was an enormous, black shape with all sorts of strange spiny projectiles sticking out of it.

i blinked and blinked again, wiping the driving sleet from my eyes, trying to make it out. what was this strange and spooky structure?

all of a sudden, i didn't want to go all the way down to the beach anymore, the sound of the waves was eerily menacing as i stood there in that bizarre shadow which blocked the cheerful, life-giving light of the lighthouse. so, hand-in-hand, husband and i ran back towards the car. i felt the creepy, slow-motion horror movie panic of someone or something in pursuit of us. but there wasn't anything there. just the shadows, the storm and our own wild imaginations.

the next day, we returned in the light of day and learned the strange structure wasn't a specter at all, but just an ugly old grey tower from an old german radar installation:

so different in the light of day. it was also surprising to see that the road down to the lighthouse, which had seemed dark and deserted was dotted with picturesque thatch-roof cottages and while a bit grey and wintery, didn't seem the least bit spooky or desolate.

i definitely learned why hollywood and novelists have used a spooky lighthouse out on a point to create suspense and heighten the spookiness of a dark and stormy night.

ghosts in the machine

i just read a very thought-provoking post on spirits. and of course, it got me thinking...the feeling that there are spirits around me is one i've had occasionally over the years. and i've often wondered if it could be possible that some residual force of a life couldn't remain in the air around us. i mean, why not?

years ago, i lived in california and some friends i had there insisted that there was a benign ghost living in their house. of course, this seemed like a very southern california thing to think in the late 80s and perhaps it was. but i came to believe it when their little grandson, who was only 3, perfectly described old mr. benson's blue cardigan.  the boy wasn't afraid of what he saw and maybe he saw it because he was just more open and could see something that the adults around had closed their more rational eyes to.

* * *

some cultures are more afraid of the spirit world than others. i heard a story from a ship's captain about a ukrainian pilot who came onboard near odessa, said good morning, asked for a cup of coffee and then proceeded to drop dead right there on the bridge. it was his heart and there was nothing that could be done. in the weeks afterwards, the filipino second officer who had the 12-4 a.m. watch, kept calling the captain and asking small questions that he should have been able to take care of himself. the captain finally sat him down and got out of him that he was afraid the ghost of the pilot was there on the bridge and he was uncomfortable there alone in the wee hours of the night. the captain resolved the issue by saying, "i'm sure he's not here, because i haven't seen him and if he'd been here, he would have had to come and see me first." but, he also took the young filipino officer seriously and in the next port invited a priest onboard to cleanse and bless the bridge and put the young man's mind (and perhaps the ukrainian pilot's spirit) at rest.

* * *

there is a small castle in denmark, dragsholm slot, which claims to have several ghosts. a grey lady is one who is frequently seen by guests in a certain room. i've been there several times and have done my best to see the ghost, but have never managed to see anything (tho' we once thought we had photographic evidence, which later turned out to be dust particles on the lens). i did, however, late at night in the jagtstue (hunting room), a very masculine room, where we were holding a workshop, get a rather creepy feeling--the hairs raised on the back of my neck and i went all goosebumps and i felt a distinct chill in the air. it was an uncomfortable spirit encounter, and i left the room as quickly as i could, seeking out the company of others. but i imagine one can have happy ones as well.

* * *

not long after my grandmother died after a long and disheartening bout with alzheimer's, i had a very vivid dream about her. we sat together, having tea and cookies. the light was very warm and she was assuring me that everything was all right. i awoke feeling a strong feeling of warmth in my core. i feel certain that the dream was a happy encounter with her spirit.

* * *

we had a cat called fitch. he was a black persian and dumber than the proverbial box of rocks, but a mild mannered, sweet cat. he couldn't take care of his fur properly and we were too busy to chase him down and comb him regularly (he ran at the mere sight of the comb). he never took to his litterbox properly and, in general, wasn't a nice cat to have around the house. he eventually died. there have been several times since, when i swear i both saw and heard him down at our back door. even sabin has heard the scratching sounds and swears she caught sight of him. 

i'm not sure we can ever truly know, but it's an interesting thing to ponder...