morning visitation

...and as I open the door leading from my office to the front of the house, I see a pale shape, not much more than the impression of a white dress moving through the light coming in the windows.  It flows from right to left.  I stop. I blink.  It is gone.

haunted

[This is directly transcribed, without changes or edits, from a journal entry dated April 4th, 1994] Ghost dreams. Windows that won’t stay closed. Doors opening onto nothing. Tired and depressed, once again.