Perceptions (8) ‘Lizzie, all you’ve proved to me is that I’m talking to myself. If I’m really locked in a coma, then you and Teri are just another part of me trying to work out what’s genuinely for the best.’ The light was becoming intense. I felt good, revitalised, the best I’ve ever felt. No more worries, no more pain. My mind and body were, perhaps, already separated. If I had a soul then maybe this was what the white light was transforming into. A car crash, huh? Not exactly how I’d wanted to go. I would have preferred a quiet death, in my bed, at around seventy years of age. The family with me, or alone, it didn’t bother me much. After all, death is a private affair. Everyone goes their own way when it comes to them. I was just hoping that I could leave things nice and tidy for Lizzie; hoped that she wouldn’t cry too much for me. Shouldn’t my life be flashing before my eyes, or something? Well, here’s the light. What, no angelic fanfare? No music? Maybe the angel Gabriel or Peter is waiting for me? Or maybe not. It’s enveloping me! So bright; so pure! I wonder where I’ll go. Heaven or Hell? Some distant planet with a new life? Start again? Somewhere better than this, I hope. Goodbye, Lizzie. I’m sorry I never had the chance to say I love you. I hope you find someone new, someone better than me to make you happy. A machine was beeping, a forlorn sound. It signalled a medical emergency. A group of people burst into the room and hurriedly surrounded a man lying in a bed connected to that machine. They were frantic. Another woman, brushed aside, found herself isolated, until she was forcefully whisked away, crying convulsively. I watched the commotion impassively from a corner of the white-walled room. It didn’t mean much to me and I wasn’t entirely sure why I was here or what I was witnessing. To answer my curiosity I approached to take a closer look. Nobody seemed to take any notice of me and I didn’t appear to be getting in anybody’s way. From the front of the bed I could see the man who was lying in it. He was a youngish man, an obviously dying man. A glance at the machine showed a white line. It was flat. The man was dead already according to the machine, and it didn’t seem to make any difference that some electrodes had just been applied to his heart. He jolted once, twice. ‘It’s not helping,’ I told them, but they didn’t seem to hear me. ‘You’re wasting your time, people!’ They continued to try, ignoring me completely. Another jolt. This time I felt it. I felt it. An onrush of fear hit me, an emotion that up until now was one of many emotions that I was devoid of. Suddenly the man in the bed looked familiar, and the activity around him began to factor into my awareness, charging me with feelings I had lost possession of. Thought processing began to filter into me, too. I wasn’t just a watcher any more. The whole scenario in front of me became suddenly, painfully, very clear. The dying - dead - man in the bed was… me! No! It wasn’t possible! What was happening? How could I be in two places at once? I was lying over there and here I was, too. Standing here. Watching. Standing? Wait a minute! ‘Hey!’ I cried. ‘What are you doing? Stop it! Stop it!’ I rushed forward to the doctor with the jump-starting kit and swiped at him. My hand went clean through his body! Terrified, I staggered backwards, away from the bed and straight through the wall. I was outside the room and standing in the corridor. Looking around in horror, I saw Lizzie bent forward in tears. There wasn’t much comfort coming from those around her. Those people were my parents, grieving hysterically with her. And there was Rob, charging down the corridor his face full of concern, realising as he neared them what was taking place beyond the wooden door. ‘Stop them, Rob!’ I called. ‘They’re killing me and they don’t know it!’ Knowing it was futile to yell at him, I tried to act on my own. I waded back through the door, halting on the other side with the shocking realisation that I’d actually walked through it. There was only one explanation. I was a ghost. A ghost! They hadn’t let me die - and now I was a ghost! I shot a glance in the direction of the bed. The machine. The doctor and nurses. My body. Again I looked at the machine. No flatline. They’d stabilised my condition, but left me in limbo. No-man’s land. ‘What have you done!’ I screamed. ‘You had no right!’ They were congratulating themselves on a job well done; they’d save my life, but they didn’t realise what they’d done to me. They had condemned me to walk the earth without a body! I looked down at myself, my fluttering eyelids telling the story. My face was masked and the breathing tubes were working to keep me alive. But I wasn’t alive. Yet the machine sure as hell didn’t know that. How could it? There was a pulse and brain activity, but when it came down to it, what did this dumb machine really know about life and death? What did it know about anything except what it was designed for? And the scientists who’d designed it couldn’t possibly begin to fathom the true depths of the nether world. They had to experience it first. And by then it was too late. The four hospital staff trouped outside. I was about to go after them when in walked Lizzie, my parents and my brother, tears in their eyes but essentially relieved that I was still breathing. ‘Lizzie, can you see or hear me?’ I had to try. Lizzie walked over and stood by the bedside. She took hold of my left hand and gripped it, but her touch was lost to me. Her face was wet and twisted with distress. Behind her, holding her shoulders, wearing a brave facade, was my father. Rob and mum stood the other side of them, searching my features for signs of recovery. ‘The doctor said he was still in a coma but at least he was safe for now,’ dad said, unnecessarily and for no good reason except to kill the desperate silence. ‘Well that’s some good news I suppose,’ added mum. Good news, my ars! Look what they’ve done, mum! Look what they’ve done to me! ‘Can any one of you hear me?’ I ventured to ask. ‘Hello?’ Sure. As if they’d be standing there ignoring my presence. Common belief had it that ghosts roamed the cause or place of their death. Well, I didn’t want to hang around here forever, and I wasn’t even officially dead! So what should I do now? Go home with them and sit around listening to their dejected moans? I couldn’t comfort them and I couldn’t tell them I was there. Could I? Maybe that’s why there were tales of ghosts moving the furniture? Maybe they were trying to get through to someone about their predicament? Or maybe they had become bored over time and decided to take some fun out of it? I wasn’t ready yet for any of that. I’d only just got here. But I didn’t want to remain ethereal eternally! I felt sorry for all of them, and this was not how I’d wanted it to be at my death. For a start, mum and dad would already be gone and I’d hoped that I could at least tell Lizzie and Rob that I loved them before shooting off my mortal coil. Now look at the mess I was in! I was left to watch over them shedding buckets, and who knows how long for? Was I going to die or lie there in a coma till I was 90? Shit! Powerless, I looked around for something I could do, someway to attract attention if that was possible. That flowerpot by the window - could I move it? Rustle its leaves with my breath? Throw it across the room at that nurse who’d just walked into the room? I watched her go to my body. Lizzie and dad moved aside as she checked the monitor and the positioning of the tubes. She offered them a half-hearted smile, knowing it was little compensation at a time like this, but there was nothing else she could do, and anyway she didn’t know them from Adam and when I finally copped it they would leave and she’d have to fuss over a new patient in this room after they’d trolleyed me out of here. Yeah. Great. Thank you, Science! Look where scientific technology had got me. Alive but dead. If they’d let well enough alone I’d be on my way to…to - shit. Maybe this was where everybody went to when they died? Maybe this was the afterlife? Maybe I was in another dimension in a different form or level of life? Maybe… Maybe this or maybe that - I could throw maybes interminably and get no answers. I couldn’t even go and bang my head on a wall as a numb-dumbing consolation. This is how poltergeists are born, I warned myself. Mad ghosts that throw vain tantrums at the living, that’s how it starts. I needed help, just as in life, and there was nobody to rely on with a ready-made manual on ghost-life. What about Whoopi Goldberg? She’d helped Patrick Swayze after he’d died. No, idiot, that was just a movie. But maybe - again with the maybe - there was a real Medium out there who could really contact the dead - if I was dead. I wasn’t even sure about that, looking over at myself in the bed. When Lizzie buried her face in her hands and started with the waterworks one more time I knew it was time get out of here. I fled through the wall and out of the Intensive Care ward. It occurred to me that I might have been trapped and bound close to my precious body, but that didn’t seem to be the case, which was a relief. But how far could I go? ‘Hey, you!’ somebody called out, and I turned to look but ignored the man. ‘Hey, what’s your hurry, pal?’ I stopped this time and looked firmly at him. He was a clean-shaven, semi-bald guy with a paunch, aged somewhere in his mid forties, fairly tall, and dressed casually in a checked-shirt and a pair of jeans. With a frown I glanced both ways over my shoulders. ‘Me? Are you talking to me?’ ‘Yeah, sure I am!’ ‘You can see me?’ I was shocked. ‘Just about. You’re not exactly all there, if ya know what I mean.’ As I looked about myself, the man walked over to greet me, a beaming smile on his face. ‘What a relief!’ I cried. ‘You can help me; I need -’ ‘Hey, wait buddy. Not so fast. I’m in practically the same fix as you.’ ‘What?’ ‘Doncha get it yet?’ ‘No,’ I said, losing my momentum. ‘Just off the boat, eh? Well, I’ll make it simple: we’re both dead, pal. We’re treadin’ the boards without wings. Or at least I am.’ He looked me up and down. ‘You ain’t quite there yet. You’re still kind of -’ he made with his right hand a fluctuating motion ‘- fuzzy. Know what I’m sayin’? ‘No,’ I replied again. ‘I haven’t got a clue what you’re telling me. I don’t know what’s happening to me and I don’t know what to do. And you’re the first person I’ve met who can see me.’ ‘Ah, right. Ok, steady the ship, there, partner. I getcha now. The first thing we need to do is say "Hi". Let me introduce myself: I’m Roy Branca. I’m from Pennsylvania, or I used to be. Wouldya believe I was only visiting the place when a dumb trucker knocked me down - the bastard. A blind man woulda seen me; and the next thing I know I wind up here, in this hospital, on a slab! A hunk of meat for a post mortem. When I find out who did me I’ll haunt the bastard for the rest of his days, you mark my words. Then I’ll haunt his kids and his grandkids -’ ‘Taking it a bit far, aren’t you?’ ‘I’m a ghost, pal. I’m entitled to. That’s my job now. So, who might you be?’ ‘Mark Draper. I’m from planet Earth and I need some answers.’ Roy Branca laughed aloud. ‘We all do, friend. Shame there’s nobody to give ‘em.’ Instantly I felt deflated. ‘I’d shake your hand, only we can’t touch each other. See?’ He swung his right hand right through my body. ‘Power of the dead people’s what I call it. And there’s plenty of ‘em around here, believe me. This place’s a hotbed of paranormal activity, only it’s not so para-normal for us any more, huh?’ he nudged me with a wink, except that there was no contact. ‘Take a look here.’ He led the way a little bit down the corridor and he disappeared through a wall. When I failed to follow, his head came back through it and startled me. ‘Ya comin’?’ ‘Uh, yes.’ ‘Ok, then.’ And he disappeared. On the other side of the wall was a small equipment room. On one wall hung a lengthy mirror. Roy stood by it and made a funny face at himself. ‘And?’ I asked. ‘What - you’re telling me ya knew a ghost would reflect?’ He nodded as the information registered across my face. ‘Yep. That’s right. Surprised me, too. Guess it’s only us ghosts who can see each other, though. Now you,’ he said, and made way for me to position myself in front of it, but I didn’t need to be completely in its reflection for me to realise what he’d meant earlier. ‘I’m fuzzy compared to you! You’re right!’ I was astonished. ‘Why?’ ‘Not sure,’ he said, matter-of-factly. ‘How’d ya get here in the first place? Remind me.’ ‘Car accident. I’m down the ward in Intensive Care; comatose.’ ‘Yep, could explain it. Then again, I’m no expert. You’re driftin’ between the planes, or somethin’.’ ‘Okay. How do I…undrift?’ He laughed. ‘You ‘re asking me?’ I was getting annoyed. ‘Roy, you’re awfully cheerful considering how you got here.’ ‘Hell, what else can I be? I’d be a raging spectre trashing the hospital otherwise, wouldn’t I? Ya need a sense of humour to get by. That trucker’d better look out though. One of these days…I got plenty of time. Still, look on the bright side …’ ‘There’s a bright side?’ ‘Always! Look at all the fun ya can have, the people ya can meet.’ ‘What people?’ ‘I told ya. The hospital’s got more ghouls than any cemetery. This is the last place they usually visit, one way or another. Most of ‘em end up dead in casualty.’ ‘Reassuring.’ ‘Nah! It’s not that bad. I’ve seen a few of ‘em go back.’ ‘Go back?’ ‘Yeah. Sometimes the doctors pull off a minor miracle and whip ‘em back from the dead. Hardly get a chance to say Hi before I say ‘Bye. Still, more die than don’t. I’ll introduce ya to some of the other guys. And gals.’ ‘Later. I’m still in mid plane, remember? I don’t know whether I’m dead or just dying.’ ‘Life sucks, doesn’t it?’ He burst into laughter again. ‘No, seriously, I don’t know anybody else in your predicament. Let me think a minute.’ ‘Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.’ ‘Not going anywhere,’ he repeated, laughing all over again. ‘You’ll have me in stitches,’ he cried, doubling up. ‘Ya see. Give it a few days you’ll end up like me. Laughing all the time.’ I didn’t really want to end up like him, and my smile was twisted. ‘How long have you been a ghost?’ I noticed a couple of nurses coming down the corridor towards us. ‘Uh, three years, I think. Or is it four?’ The nurses were only a few metres away and they weren’t slowing. Why should they? They couldn’t see us. I started to move away, glancing at Roy to see what he would do. He’d also seen the nurses. ‘Hello, ladies! Fancy running into you!’ He turned to face them and the pair of them walked right through him and onwards, forcing out of them merely an icy shiver and a trade of words. Roy seemed to love it, however. ‘Listen, Mark, pal. Ya start moving aside and ya’ll always be moving aside. They can’t see ya and they can’t feel ya, so don’t fret over it. To them we don’t exist. That’s it.’ I sighed. Would this be it forever? ‘Hey, I know!’ Roy clicked his fingers, but nobody heard it. ‘Sammy Jones!’ ‘Who’s Sammy Jones?’ ‘Sammy Jones - you know!’ ‘No - I don’t.’ ‘Oh no, of course ya don’t. Come with me.’ He turned and walked through a wall. The act was unnerving me. We passed through a number of walls and solid objects. It was weird. Though I didn’t feel a thing, I couldn’t get over the reality of what I was actually doing. Physically marching through obstacles that I would normally step aside of wasn’t something I would get used to in a hurry. Having thought that, after twenty walls, tables, chairs bookcases and people, I began to acclimatise, unexpectedly quickly. ‘Nothing to it; piece of cake, see?’ Roy said. ‘I suppose.’ ‘Hey, Roy! How’s my man!’ Roy froze in mid pace and I almost left him behind going through a wall. ‘Louie! Goin’ good?’ He turned to greet a tall, slim black man who reminded me of TV’s Huggybear on Starsky and Hutch. ‘Goin’ good, man. Yo’self?’ ‘Keepin’ busy and outa trouble, except when I want to.’ The two of them burst into laughter for some reason known only to themselves. ‘Who’s the fuzzy dude wit’ you? Never seen him before!’ Roy looked round at me. ‘Him? He’s a new kid on the block. He’s kind of in between planes at the moment.’ ‘How’s that, man?’ ‘He ain’t dead, but he’s practically beyond living, too. He’s lying in a coma in Intensive.’ ‘Oh, coma, right. Yeah,’ said Louie, his head going up and down. ‘We’re lookin’ for Sammy. Ya seen him hereabouts?’ ‘Sammy? Yeah, uh, at least I think so.’ Could ghosts be on drugs? Louie seemed spaced out, somehow. Strange how I never even realised that Louie was a ghost up until the moment he’d greeted Roy. I would have passed him by. To me, by appearance, the living and the dead looked exactly alike. Both of them seemed solid objects. How could I tell them apart? Roy would know. ‘Sammy’s situation kind of compares with this young fella’s. I was hopin’ to ask him about it.’ ‘Well, he’s a strange ‘un, tha’s for sure. How’d you get to be like that, man? ‘I don’t know,’ I answered. ‘That’s why we’re looking for Sammy.’ ‘Sammy, yeah. I know Sammy. Bit brain dead. One of the zombies.’ ‘Zombies?’
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