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the floor to the door, the “swishing” was so loud and fierce the door rattled in the process. “Shit!” I shrieked and jumped straight up into the air.
    Skipping back to my nightstand, I turned the music back on, this time as loud as I could stand it. It’s not like anyone else was around to hear.
    Interesting , I thought, as I dried my eyes and blew my nose. I have a ghost and they must be lonely too .

     
     
    T he next morning I woke up, ready to take on the day. I popped some Excedrin Migraine and hopped in the car. There were covered bridges to see, White Mountains to explore, and, well, whatever else was in New Hampshire for me to find. I was there to see and do things, right? I couldn’t let a little headache and ghost keep me cooped up in the house all weekend.
    I spent all day driving through the White Mountains, exploring towns like North Conway with its outlet stores and Laconia where I got ice cream and sat outside and enjoyed the sunshine.

    Just getting out of the house again for an extended period of time, and not just for supper, helped. I was amazed at how different even the air was away from the resort. Once the car climbed out of the tunnel of trees and entered the valley below, the fog lifted and the sky was blue again. It was easier to breathe and even what was left of my headache cleared away.
    Being gone gave me plenty of time to think. My old childhood friend, David, had been on my mind since the dream I’d had and I told myself I’d write him when I got back to the resort. The last I’d heard from him was a year ago or more when he’d sent out a mass email and said he was getting married. I’d lost touch with a lot of people in my life and now, trying to figure out my next move, I was anxious to form some connections. If I couldn’t make new ones, maybe I could reestablish old ones.
    The way my brain worked, I was afraid I might forget writing him at all, so I used my phone to access my email when I finished my ice cream. It would only let me type a few lines in one message so I sent him a brief one: “You married yet?” and hit “send.” We’d known each other since I was seven. He’d seemed happy the last time I’d talked to him.
    It felt good to get out and reconnect with someone from my past, even though by the end of the day I hadn’t heard back from him yet. I drove back to the resort with a lighter heart. Just being in the sunshine made me feel a little better.
     

    S leep did not come easy that night. The headache returned almost as soon as I entered the house. Maybe it’s mold or dust or something in here , I thought as I made my way up the dark staircase, wishing I’d left a light on. It was an old house, after all, and I’d been there three weeks and had yet to see a real good cleaning. I’d been left to clean my attic room myself upon arrival and had to make do with soap and water and an ancient vacuum that did little but shake the dust around.
    Still rationalizing what was going on around me, I tried to put on a brave face and settle in. I needed the money, after all, couldn’t stand the thought of having to go home with my tail between my legs, and was an adult. I had handled worst in the past–surely I could handle some ghosts. After all, I’d never really heard of a ghost hurting anyone. It was really just a problem of mind over matter, right?
    Without much else to do, I closed myself in for the night and tried reading. The noises began almost immediately.
    They started softly at first, light enough they might have been a tree branch scraping the side of the house (had there been any trees around it) or a bat flapping its wings against a window. A “creak” here, a light “thump” there; they were mostly sounds an old house makes while it’s settling. Those I could ignore. I tuned them out, turned my music on, and focused on “The Mists of Avalon.”
    But they only grew louder. Now, the thumps that had emanated from downstairs earlier were outside my