Ghosts are awesome.
How is that for a thesis statement?
I’ve had a chance to read the ghost story published this week, and I’ve got to admit, it has me a little giddy with excitement. I love all things involving ghosts—movies, books, art—but nothing is more fun than supposedly true ghost stories. That’s one of the things that is so much fun about living in Halifax; there is a ghost story on every corner.
Dal itself already has a rich history of ghost stories. Half of the buildings on campus have a haunting attached to them, and considering how old some of the buildings are, that makes total sense.
Obviously, Penelope is the most notable Dal ghost. If you weren’t aware, the story goes that she was a chambermaid in Shirreff Hall who was impregnated and then rejected by a professor. Her sorrow was so great that she hung herself inside the residence itself. There have been numerous reports over the years that Penelope’s spirit lingers: manifestations of a lovely woman in a blue dress, doors that unlock and swing open on their own, electronic devices that turn on and off unexpectedly, and mysterious, disembodied footsteps. Maybe Penelope is reaching out beyond the grave to make a connection with someone, anyone … or maybe she just likes fucking with people. I like the latter theory.
Of course, there is no real proof Penelope ever existed, but for me, that doesn’t really matter. I just enjoy ghost lore. I don’t believe every story I hear. I know someone, who according to her, has a ghostly experience in every house she has ever been in. While I think the ‘ghosts’ ultimately come down to her need to be special, it doesn’t really bother me, because ghost stories are fun to hear.
They are pretty fun to tell too. I grew up in a super old creepy house that had a long history of hauntings. It had been in the family for decades upon decades, so it became a private family legend. Great-great-great grandfather Amos died in that house. At certain times of the year, you’d see shadows on the wall where there should be no shadows, and you’d smell Amos’s favorite tobacco brand wafting through the air, even though no one in the house smoked it (come to think about it…maybe he’s moved to the SUB…).
My nanny, whose word is sacred, once told me she saw someone standing in the room when she awoke in the middle of the night. When she turned on the light, no one was there. My nanny didn’t tell tales, so I believed her absolutely. My mother, in that same house, once woke up to someone sitting on her bed and stroking her hair, the trouble was that the person was invisible. My uncle once saw what he thought was my aunt in an upstairs window, only to find out that no one was home. He had a hard time coming in the house after that.
My grandfather also told me plenty of great stories, but he couldn’t be trusted — he was a notorious prankster who once put a live lobster on my mom’s pillow and let her wake up face-to-face with it. (I miss you Granddad—go Blue Jays!)
I myself had an experience in the house. I was having a sleepover with my best friend Carolyn, and I woke up to a tall, shadowy man standing in my room. Carolyn woke up at the same time and she saw the same thing. She flew out of her sleeping bag and climbed in bed with me. I had other experiences too, but I was never scared of that house. You never felt alone there, but it never felt negative. It was like family.
I know a lot of people won’t believe me, and that is fine. I’m skeptical of a lot of ghost stories too — but I love every one I have heard.
Ghost stories connect us to a mysterious ‘other’, a world we can’t see. This frightens some people understandably: the idea of another realm existing alongside our world, filled with supernatural forces we cannot see or control. I find the idea fun. Maybe it’s a way to escape the mundane world we live in — a way to let our imaginations run wild in a manner we don’t often get to as adults.
That’s what is great about ghost stories and Halloween. Infinite possibility. Imagination run amok. While I know most ghost stories aren’t true, it doesn’t really matter. True or not, they are pure fun. So if you have any ghost stories, send them my way — I promise, no matter how crazy you may think they sound, you’ll have a rapt audience in me!
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