This is what happens when you write about ghosts; they follow you from the darkness. They follow you offstage. They slip into the bathroom. They cross over from realism to surealism to magical realism. 

Magical creatures onstage don’t have to obey the “laws” of those real lives – they can fly/float/appear in other times/as other people/other voices/other animals/other languages.

And then they don’t always obey the playwright.  As in shut up when I’m done writing.

The ghost I’m writing about now – follows me around sometimes like a helium balloon during the day – and hovers over my head when I’m trying to go to sleep.  Mostly she’s in my thoughts, trying to escape the ordinary.  Whatever that is.

I thought the attached link was an interesting “find” in the natural world.  Of course the images at the VERY END of the(16 minute) piece are what I was most interested in.  They resembled characters waiting for the playwright to bring them to life.  Or, at least, to bring them a strong cup of coffee.  Substance and Absence: An artist shows/demonstrates