October 18: Dreamed I Died, Elaine Equi, "Ghosts and Fashion"

Today has been long, and it's going to get longer before it gets shorter.

I find myself yawning a lot this afternoon, trying to keep myself from falling asleep at my desk.  Last night, I dreamed I died.  It was a quiet passing, nothing fiery or catastrophic.  Just a simple letting go, as if I was setting off on a long ocean voyage.

I saw my family going on without me.  My daughter growing up, going to college, getting married.  My son playing football for his high school, tackling and fumbling and ogling cheerleaders.  And I saw my wife, alone, watching our daughter graduate and our son buy his first car.  She looked sad.  All the time.

And I wanted to touch her, hold her, let her know I was there.  But I couldn't.

So I just sat beside her, existed in her air.

Saint Marty is a little haunted this afternoon.

Ghosts and Fashion

by:  Elaine Equi

Although it no longer has a body
to cover out of a sense of decorum,

the ghost must still consider fashion—

must clothe its invisibility in something
if it is to “appear” in public.

Some traditional specters favor
the simple shroud—

a toga of ectoplasm
worn Isadora-Duncan-style
swirling around them.

While others opt for lightweight versions
of once familiar tee shirts and jeans.

Perhaps being thought-forms,
they can change their outfits instantly—

or if they were loved ones,
it is we who clothe them
like dolls from memory.