When we traveled to India to supposedly get married, I had very little idea how his place looks like. Although he already mentioned that I don’t have to worry about the blistering heat of Jammu, because they have five rooms, each with air conditioning. From there, I got the hint that he basically lives in a huge ancestral house. My expectations were right – to some extent. Although outside it looks contemporary and the windows outside were very modern, most of the rooms were antique looking and really big compared to the houses in Manila.
I liked the house. The kitchenette is filled with delicious aroma of different spices. The living room, though mostly filled with scattered toys and coloring books of his adorable niece Piu, was very cozy. Just musing over the details of his lovely home makes my heart flushed with good memories.
The only thing that ruined the first few days of our vacation was when we watched The Conjuring in the cinema- which did not just made me not want to go to the bathroom alone but also made me cry in bed like a kid when he insisted that we turn off the lights and watch another horror movie in bed. I mean Jeez! Isn’t one traumatic movie enough? I’m the type of person who believes that watching movies should make you feel better. Why do I need to see something that will stress me AGAIN? The only reason I ended up watching that in theatre is because I want to meet and get to know his best friend. I want to be close to the people he cared about and matters to him. So I did. I never thought it would be so daunting on my end.
When we started dating I never thought he has this fascination with horror flicks. I was made to believe we were both into rom coms. Well…the putting the best foot forward is over and we later on discovered the many differences we have. I think I pretty much covered in small portions of my blogs that we have been fighting about small (sometimes big but mostly small) things because of our individual(now we realized it’s not entirely cultural)differences.
There are two major factors that triggered my childish neurosis that I couldn’t afford to explain to him that time: 1. The room prepared for us was the biggest and the most vintage looking. A huge bed and yellow cozy lighting. Huge mahogany cabinets and drawers with antique mirrors and some old stuff toys and dolls owned by his elder sister. I liked the room when we got there. I planned on staying there the rest of our vacation because I don’t normally get enough sleep when we’re in Dubai. Plus, we were so much deprived of space in our flat. So that was our chance to roll over a king size bed! But then again after the movie, the atmosphere of the entire room changed [ in my own delirious perception of course]. I couldn’t be left alone in the room anymore. Dammit. Thank God, that despite his being impatient with my childishness, he accompanies me in the bathroom every time I need to pee 2. Electricity Issues. His family told me that this was the first time it ever happened. That they have been having problems with electricity for the past few days. I mean of all months of the entire year? Why now? So basically every after two or three hours, the lights go out and the entire house with five huge rooms, two bathrooms and two kitchen is enveloped by darkness. The only good thing is that they have what seemed to be a small transformer [generator] that provides electricity to a single room. But still, once the charge is over, I’m back to my own version of twilight zone.
I am really not a fan of horror movies because I have this intense, almost demented imagination that is worst than the movie itself. I tell this to Sam but he doesn’t seem to understand my blabbing. I involuntarily make up creatures and scenarios in my head. Perhaps this is normal with writers. Because I had a conversation before with my uber intelligent friend Jill whose weakness is creativity but is genius with math and algorithms. I asked her if after watching horror or gory films, she still pictures the images growing, moving, breathing, talking in her head. She said, never. Which is why when she had an accident a few years back, the bus lost control of the break and hit a post, she opened her eyes with blood dripping from her head, she didn’t panic. She was logical rather than imaginative, which now I realized is an advantage. When she saw her shirt was half covered with blood and her legs wobbling with bruises, she only thought of one thing: Fuck. Am I still alive or what? Like if I’m alive I need to go to the hospital. If not, then what’s the use?
I know that we – most often than not, just create the ghosts in our heads. We manufacture these monsters and scare ourselves with every body parts we attach to them. Literally and figuratively. May it be physical, spiritual or mental ghosts.
We have to overcome these fears, I know. But sometimes unless the situation really calls for it, we would rather hide from the covers and prolong our agony as long as we can, than attack and slay them dead.
--- Daily Prompt: Ghost
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