Things are getting lost and misplaced in the house. Father was complaining this morning that his phone charger had gone missing. None of us took it. There are dozens of other instances where our things had gone missing without any of us ever knowing where it went; how it moved from its usual spot on the shelf to a hidden corner, or to the bottom of a ceramic dish containing sundry items. Mother said she was afraid it might be a ghost, a playful poltergeist. If it is, I surely hope it is not malicious. And it does reveal itself to us, in the form of some semi-corporeal substance or a barely-decipherable phantom figure, I hope it does so in a friendly way. Perhaps, it will tell us some things about the afterlife or about a realm existing beyond our perception. How thrilling it shall be to learn of a truth which no one else in the world has knowledge of. But will there not always arise the suspicion of this polite phantom being merely a creation of one’s brooding, hitherto undiscovered, insanity? I could listen all night to its all descriptions, and not realize that I am listening only to my own imaginative thoughts.