Things that go bumpity-bump in the night

image by lephilnet

I'm one of them. No, I don't mean I'm a manananggal (a staple character in Filipino horror) -- a woman who is normal in every respect during the daytime, but come nighttime transforms into a monster. The upper part of her body flies somewhere to find some unfortunate victim (usually said to be babes still in the womb). Simple to kill her, really. Just douse the stump of the lower part of her torso with salt, ash or garlic while she's out marauding; this will prevent her upper body from re-attaching to her lower body when she comes back. Sunlight is fatal to her while she's in manananggal mode; her death is inevitable with the arrival of dawn.

I'm a creature of the night simply because I work during the wee hours of the morning. My little ones are safely asleep in their beds, and it's quiet and peaceful. "Aren't you afraid to work at night? It's dark and you're all alone," somebody asked me once. Strangely, I'm not. And this is kind of unusual for me -- since I'm a certified chickenshit when it comes to many other things.

But should I be afraid of ghosts? Do I even believe in ghosts? I'm still not sure about that. Soon after my dad died many, many years ago, I had some strange experiences (my sister had one weird thing happen to her, while my brothers and my mother had none). Things like:

• the "Play" button on my music player suddenly activating, filling the room with song,
• my electric fan turning on without my touching it,
• being enveloped in the scent of kalachuchi (frangipani, a flower used in wakes and funerals here in the Philippines... this one freaked out some of my friends who noticed the sudden presence of the aroma -- we were at the university hangout I think, at the time).

Maybe it's because I was considered "Daddy's girl" -- I resembled him the most -- that I was the one who had the more unusual experiences after his death. I haven't had any of these things happen to me in recent years, though. But if something like it does occur again, I won't be afraid. After all, it's just my dad. I'd even invite him to have a beer with me if I (or he) could!

I still dream about my dad. And even after 17 years, I still find myself missing him.