This is the eve of old Halloween when ghosties and ghoulies may really be abroad. It changed when the Julian calendar was replaced by our current Gregorian one. But do the ghosts know that?
When I was eleven, our class got a new English teacher. He was a strange man who believed that the way to succeed in life was to lie. Needless to say he did not stay long before being replaced by someone with a healthier take on life, but whilst he was there he gave us all an exercise book on which we were told to inscribe "Continuous Writing". The idea was that we should create a story to be added to each week until the book was full. I chose to write separate short stories based on some very vivid dreams I was having at the time. I suppose I just wanted to exorcise them from my consciousness as several qualified as nightmares.
In one dream I and several of my cousins were living in a time long past and we were captives of a kind. Before us stood my uncle, a monk in brown habit. He was a very gentle and quiet man, but a man not lacking in courage. Our captors were forcing us to watch his execution - he was to be beheaded with an axe. I had this dream recurrently for some considerable time
Another dream took place in a small dungeon. This time I was alone and having to fend for myself. No food or water was supplied to me, but a stream ran through my cell in a kind of paved culvert where I was able to drink relatively fresh water. I was also able to catch the occasional tiddler to sustain myself.
Dreams. Just childish dreams that stayed with me throught to adulthood, but I thought of them as nothing more, until tonight. Have you ever seen the English programme "Most Haunted"? A team of investigators go to a supposedly haunted property and spend the night to see if they can detect any ghostly goings on. Tonight they were at Aberglasly House [sp]. They looked around in this and that room. Some picked up something, in an upstairs room where five maids were said to have lost their lives. Then they went down into the cellars and I had this strange sensation of recognition. It was the place in my dream. Even the paved culvert was still there, although falling into disrepair. I watched, glued to the screen as they explored and I recognised one small area, but not all - I had been locked in in my dream, and my childish story did not include escape.
