DOYLEFAIRY also suggested that some “hysterical female” in our household was partly to blame because poltergeist activity required human energy to perform their antics. An anxious adolescent girl might provide such energy—or a mentally unstable woman of childbearing age, in some cases.
How nice, I thought, to be informed that I was mentally unstable by a woman who believed in elves and fairies.
I was getting increasingly frustrated. If these parapsychologists were any indication, then the “experts” in the field couldn’t even agree on the definition of the word “ghost.” How were they going to help me with my “dilemma”? (I will also confess that I seriously began to wonder if I needed to be a Roman Catholic to summon an exorcist.)
Suddenly, a newcomer joined the chat room: WANNADATE. “I’ve got huge breasts and a tiny skirt, and I’m looking for friendship.”
What the heck was that? I thought, supremely alarmed. But before I could type a thing, the entire chat room told WANNADATE to take a hike.
Major obscenities came across my screen before the chat room moderator ejected WANNADATE from the group.
“Who in the world was that?”
I typed.
“Sorry, HAUNTED,”
SPOOKSCIENCEGUY typed back to me,
“every now and then some jerk gets our address and crashes.”
“No problem,”
I typed.
“. . . but elves and fairies are considered elemental spirits,”
DOYLEFAIRY was now typing, amid some sort of parapsychological argument with KARDECIAN.
Okay, I thought. I’ll bite.
“Excuse me, but what is an ‘elemental’ spirit?”
I typed.
“A spirit of the earth,”
typed DOYLEFAIRY.
“They only exist if people believe in them.”
“Oh, come on,”
I typed, unable to stop myself.
“Like Tinkerbell?”
“Actually, that’s not a bad example at all,”
typed DOYLEFAIRY, apparently unruffled by my apparent skepticism. (Then again, if you professed to believe in fairies, you’d have to get a pretty thick skin, wouldn’t you?)
“Just consider how J. M. Barrie laid it out,”
typed DOYLEFAIRY.
“He posited that saving Tinkerbell’s life, after she drinks the poison meant for Peter Pan, could be achieved by asking everyone to profess their belief in fairies. Accurate. Even though that was an example drawn from literature, there are historical and cultural examples like it. The leprechauns of Ireland, for instance.”
Okay, I thought, I’ll bite again.
“So, if belief in these elemental spirits is what keeps them alive, then what happens if people stop believing in them?”
DOYLEFAIRY typed,
“I can use Peter Pan again for that one. Just stating the words ‘I don’t believe in fairies’ supposedly results in some fairy somewhere in the world dropping dead on the spot. That’s pretty much it. Once people stop believing in these elemental spirits, their psychic energies are dispersed.”
I asked, “You mean they go away?”
“Yes. The psychic energy disperses and collects elsewhere.”
Elsewhere, I thought. Like where? But what I typed was,
“Then all I have to do is tell my friend to ignore the ghost.”
I was momentarily caught up with the thrill of an easy answer. Completely ignoring the ghost of Jack Shepard could be a no-fuss, no-muss way to end all of this. All I needed was a big, fat YES.
“No!”
typed GHOSTHUNTER almost instantly.
“No, no, no! Ghosts are not fairies, for heaven’s sake. Ghosts are the souls of those whose bodies have died. Contrary to the Haxan hypotheses, which SPOOKSCIENCEGUY quoted for you, many parapsychologists believe ghosts exhibit an independent personality. There are many documented accounts of ghosts communicating things to the living that the living didn’t previously know.”
Darn, I thought. Darn, darn, darn.
“We have more than one hundred of these kinds of stories in our files,”
typed GHOSTHUNTER.
“And those are just the ones reported to us. Most of the time, supernatural encounters are so private or unverifiable, people decide to keep them to themselves rather than risk sounding—you know—crazy.”
I typed,
“Believe me, I know.”
As the data stream went on, I let the chat room continue and opened up a second Web window to surf an on-line bookstore for titles relating to mental diseases, delusions, dementia, and nervous breakdowns. The title A Beautiful Mind popped up, and I felt slightly better. After all, if a Nobel Prize-winning mathematician could learn to live with hearing delusional voices, maybe I could, too.
Sorry, babe, Jack Shepard said. Sorry to give you the grouch, but I am really not a delusion. Really.
I sighed. If Jack Shepard’s spirit was only a voice in my head, as it had been for Professor John Nash, then I would have to start establishing some limits right now!
“I want to be alone,” I said in a clear voice.
That seemed to work. The ghost had decided not to press the point.
I stifled a yawn and was about to sign off when screen name RUNE flashed me a private “INSTANT MESSAGE.”
“You seem to have more than an academic interest in psychic phenomena,”
the message read.
I remembered seeing the name RUNE on the chat list, but I did not recall that name participating in the discussion. After a long pause, another instant message appeared.
“I can understand if you don’t wish to share your issues with me privately,”
the message read.
“Though I am sure they are preying upon you.”
I typed a bland reply, something like
“You don’t know the half of it.”
Then I pressed the “send” button.
Only after the reply came did I realize I had been holding my breath waiting for it.
“Just consider this,”
said RUNE.
“Psychic talents are like any other talent. As children we are all psychic to some degree. But without an environment to practice and develop our skills, we never know our true potential. Some of us even bury our talent as we mature only to have it crop up in odd ways.”
“Crop up? How?”
I typed.
“The answer to that depends on the individual. But this I know: Once you’ve learned to talk to the dead, you never forget how.”
“What does that mean?”
I typed.
“Are you saying that I should just go ahead”
—I stopped typing, hit the backspace to delete, and began typing again—
“that I should tell my friend to just go ahead and start talking to this—ghost?”
“I know you’re skeptical. But look, if you—that is, your ‘friend’ ”
—typed RUNE,