You were a ghost who looked and sounded exactly like my recently deceased father, but my therapist says that everyone I meet these days looks and sounds like him. You are the first ghost I have ever come across, so please pardon my haziness in recounting some of your details.
We met briefly approximately a fortnight ago… it may have been last Thursday eve. Our paths crossed in the castle where I currently live, with my mom and uncle, who is a dick and recently moved in.
You floated about a meter off the ground and had an overwhelming aura. A very strong presence and so very shimmery. You weren’t exactly see-through but you were also definitely not of this Earth. I think you were wearing a robe with our family crest on it, but you can probably guess what my therapist thinks about me seeing our family crest everywhere.
There were others in the room but you made me feel like only I mattered (my therapist took furious notes when I told her this). Mostly because you knew my name, you drew me near, and told me a story. You were an extremely close talker. You were a bit vainglorious, going on and on about yourself. You were also bold and declarative and made outrageous (and outrageously specific!) claims.
I don’t want to repeat some of those assertions in such a public forum, but if you are reading this, you’ll know what I mean. In short, you were quite conspiratorial, and very angry, and had a fondness for words like “murder” and “revenge” and “Denmark.” Um… OK.
I believe you had a message or instruction for me. But anyone who knows me knows that at night I am usually a few goblets deep, and my listening retention skills are compromised. Plus, you used hundreds of words when it felt like eight would have done. Did I mention the wine?
You vanished as quickly as you appeared, saying a brief goodbye and telling me to remember you. You left me with so many questions that, it felt like an episode of HBO’s The Leftovers. Your exit, like our entire encounter was a blur.
I was an indecisive and nervous prince. I am still an indecisive and nervous prince, but one whose headspace has become even murkier. Recently I’ve been dealing with a lot of shit that has tested my confidence and faith, but I am sure you could tell that.
You know how sometimes you just get into one of those funks? It may last a day or a week or so. But my funk has been around for months now, and while at first I leaned into and just sorta accepted it, I am now wishing I’d realized its danger, instead of originally considering it a chance for some “me time.”
Anyways, more about me. I am of average height but wish I was a bit taller, you could probably see that coming, huh? The night we met, I was wearing my burgundy nightclothes, which matched my red-wine stained teeth. You didn’t seem to mind, even though it’s usually a total conversational buzzkill at most cocktail parties. Point is, you didn’t catch me in my finest moments.
I don’t exactly know what I am looking for these days, but I feel reinvigorated after our meetup. I know I am capable of more than trudging around a depressing castle dealing with my POS uncle and nagging mom. It’s just that sometimes I need to hear things twice.
That being said, I would love to meet up again and talk. You captivated me but also saw an absent-minded side of me. I hope I did not seem as vapid as I feel after having met you.
I wish I had been more assertive. I probably should have been more assertive. It seems like we were destined to meet. My name is Hamlet. I am not sure which technologies ghosts use to communicate, so you can look me up, or I will visit the tower in which we met, nightly for the next fortnight. Please don’t leave me waiting.