Next Time, Leave Your Dead Relatives at Home

Janet seemed really cool over the Internet and over the phone, so I decided to take her out.  We were at dinner and having a pretty good conversation when somehow or other we came upon the topic of dead relatives.

She told me that she had been particularly attached to a late aunt and a late great uncle.  She told me about them and finished with, "But it's okay because they're still here."

I'm not religious, but I'm fine with people who are.  I asked her, "You mean, watching over us, from Heaven?"

She said, "No.  They're here.  As in, right here.  Next to me.  I can see them."

I didn't know what to say to this, so I asked her to explain.  She went on to say that not only could she see them, but that she could also speak with them and have a conversation.  Then, she offered to demonstrate.

She asked her aunt, who was sitting immediately to her left, what her aunt thought of me.  After a moment, Janet turned to me and said, "Angela thinks that you're very nice, but that you're hiding something important."

I asked her, "What does your uncle say?"

She turned to her great uncle, who was sitting next to her aunt, and turned back to me and said, "He says that you're a nice boy but that I should be careful with you."

It gets better than this.  Her dead aunt and great uncle had a lot to say as the evening went on.

We were walking after dinner when Janet stopped walking and asked, "What?" as if someone invisible had called to her.  She turned to me and said, "Aunt Angela has a good idea.  She thinks that we should get ice cream.  Do you want to?"

So we went for ice cream.  While we were sitting down, she turned to her left and asked, "What's so funny?"  Then she turned to me and said, "Uncle Elliot was laughing at something funny you did in eighth grade."

I asked her, "What in particular?"

She looked at Uncle Elliot and then turned back to me.  "Something involving a chair."

I raised an eyebrow.  "Can Uncle Elliot be more specific?"

She said, "I don't know.  Sometimes he fades in and out and I can't hear him all that well."

I leaned forward and asked, "Sort of like imagination?"

She shook her head.  "Believe me, they're real."

"Oh, I believe you."

There's more to it, but I'll stop at this point.  Suffice it to say, after we said our goodnights, I consulted my own dead relatives for their thoughts on her.  They told me not to pursue her, and I always listen to their advice.