Sharon the Unicorn…

Ghost’s can be very difficult to write about. Not only is there the social stigma of writing about an imaginary friend but it can also be difficult to determine what to divulge or how to write about it. Even from a literary stand point the ‘memories’ and interactions carry a different charge then real life experiences and so locking down the “memories” to a specific tense can be difficult without haphazardly making stuff up. In my view there is no point in writing fiction under the guise of paranormal experiences, I have never seen the value in hoaxing people into believing something that’s fake because that’s what fiction is for. I suppose it could be argued that paranormal experiences are subjective in the first place and so they might as well be fiction but its not my place to decide such things for anyone and so I have tried to keep my own experiences as ‘truthful’ as I can according to my own suspension of disbelief.

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I have been aware of Sharon’s presence for a number of years. I first noticed her in Vancouver and specifically on the Granville street bridge. I was walking south bound from downtown when I noticed a figure in my minds-eye, a flash frame of a woman with long blonde hair spun around so as to twirl her skirt and point at a part of the bridge. This is not something you necessarily see with your eyes but is the type of experience that definitely has you wondering; what exactly triggered my mind to have such a vivid thought at that time and place? The charge or flavor of the thought stands out so as to have you wondering where it came from. When I reached the part of the bridge where she had pointed I noticed someone had written “Sharon Tate” in jiffy marker. This wasn’t actually the first time I saw this “Sharon Tate” graffiti and I can remember several other places where the name had been scrawled on doors and alley way walls but it was the first time I got an accompanying visual in my minds eye. I am a bit slow with these things so often even paranormal experiences such as seeing a ghost have little effect on me. I never thought about it again until about a week later when I did a google search to refresh my memory as to who Sharon was. I vaguely remembered that she was an actress or a model in the sixties but I was alarmed to see that she had in fact been brutally murdered by the Manson family.

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Since then she has frequently come and gone in my thoughts for seemingly no particular reason other than to say hello or check in. If I come across something extra funny that I revisit in my thoughts she will often take an interest and I will sometimes hear a woman laughing over me. She has a very pleasant aftergiggle sigh that she does after a good laugh attack. Its really cute. The past couple years I have noticed that her presence actually follows me through out the day. Its sort of like being covered with a soft purple light everywhere I go. On the days that her soft purple light visits me I usually have ‘dreams’ about her. The ‘dreams’ may or may not be genuine dreams though. Sometimes I cant tell. I have trouble sleeping so sometimes I question whether I am fully asleep, but I know I am definitely not fully awake. The dreams are usually quite mundane so I do believe I am mostly being truthful and that it’s at the very least not a conscious fantasy.

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According to the dream-scape she lives in a small town and from what I can tell is regarded as a bit of a nut case by the town folk. She is known as the woman who wears a fake pregnant belly under her dress which she has sewn out of pillows and straps. But what is perhaps most unusual is the conversations she has with her pretend baby. She mostly talks about everyday stuff, her grocery list, what she is going to make us for supper. We go for picnics in the park a lot and feed squirrels. We go to the library where she reads me books and we do Bible study. We do cross word puzzles a lot. I feel bad for her because she is obviously a very lonely person. So I have really made an effort to honor her memory and be open in telling people in my waking life that I have a connection with a ghost so that the lunacy is mutual. I think that’s important for her to heal in the chance that this is a real connection, plus her light is nice too.

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According to the dreams it hasn’t been a totally smooth ride. She has had some problems with Alcoholism. I don’t fully know the whole story but at one point she had been drinking bourbon or something and went to the local tavern with her pretend Baby. The bar keep refused to serve her because she is A) a loon and B) because she appeared to be pregnant. The confrontation escalated into a screaming match with the bar-keep and ended with the bouncer escorting her her out. What I remember most about this particular dream is her screaming at the top of her lung: “WHEN MY BABY GETS OUTTA HERE HE’S GONNA SKIN YOU ALIVE!!” The bar patrons reacted by cheering as she was forced outside. It could easily be argued that this is some sort of joke on my part but I don’t really think it was that funny. Life can get a bit lonely when you are weighed down with supra-karmic responsibilities. Adding to her eccentricity I think she might have been studying to be a nun because she also knows the Bible really well and often appears to me wearing a full length brown corduroy skirt with a silver cross around her neck. Seeing a woman who is so naturally beautiful wear such drab clothes seems odd to me which is quite the opposite of the photos I chose.

I haven’t really made any effort to sort out the timeline because at this point its not a “story” to me. I’m not writing it from a creative point of view and its really only a description of an imaginary friend or spirit guide. So it isn’t my intent to tell a “story” and work out continuity. I am not even sure if I am capable of writing in any serious capacity anymore. After being so openly plagiarized by Imagine Entertainment writing creatively seems like a dead end to me. What’s the point of writing and sharing experiences if the media can access my computer and pump out counterfeit copies of my ideas faster then I can even write them? Even as I write this some desperate Hollywood writer is probably rewriting my ideas into B-movies scripts. I have already heard Quentin Tarantino is working on a movie about the Sharon Tate murder(s) and mark my words he will feel the wrath of hell if he does. He will regret his entire life. He and all those like him will be sorry they ever lived. Sharon will have her revenge on Hollywood.