The other night I dreamt that I was a ghost. I found being a ghost to be a fun but solitary existence, being as it was that nobody could see or hear me. They could feel me, though, as I found out when I spookily grabbed a young woman's hand with my own cold, dead hands, and made her afraid.
At one point I used my ghostly powers to apprehend two shoplifters, which brought forth a great deal of disdain from a bunch of other ghosts (who showed up for some reason at that point). They told me that I shouldn't help out the living, or do any other work for that matter, that I should just sit down and rest. They were all lounging on the ground, illustrating the deathstyle to which they were beckoning me.
Here was my response to the ghost leader, as near as I can recall it (apparently death brought out my profane side):
"I don't need to sit down, okay? There's no point in sitting down. I don't have any fucking knees, man. I'm dead. I don't have a body. Look at you, you're lying there, you don't even have a back. You don't have a wang! You don't have any fuckin' balls, man!
"All right, look, what's to stop me from starting here, the fuck in San Francisco, and walking to Boston? Why couldn't I do that? [Sarcastic crowd response: "The Mississippi River?"] I don't have to breathe! I'll walk along the bottom and look at the fish!
"What I'm saying is, you, me, them, we're all just memories. I mean, sure, we have a consciousness, we're all living-- okay, not living, but we're all creatures. But everything we have is in our heads. Or rather, what would be our heads if we had heads."
Maybe it's just an elaborate version of Patrick Swayze's telekenesis lesson in Ghost, but it seemed important to me at the time.
