The Post Two Years in the Making and the Most Un-Christian Christmas Ever

I am over two hours late to a dinner with my visa sponsor.  He wants to see my husband more than me, which means I'm once again relegated to playing the role of interpreter.  An invitation by this man to anything is never something I turn down so I speed down the highway in my rental car hoping the cops will not see me.  In my defense, I called to say I didn't know what time I would arrive and this great man, my sponsor says, "You're working.  Work.  I'm sure your husband and I will have plenty to talk about even without you here."  Two men talking about yours truly without said person's presence is always reason for serious contemplation.  I have a very odd feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I am right.  By the time I arrive and apologize for my tardiness my husband, my sponsor and his wife have all but finished with dinner.  I scarf down the leftovers alternating between giving thanks for the lack of police presence on this evening and sneaking glances at the three hoping someone will volunteer information about what's transpired in my absence.  My husband shares the news.

"We're going to Ise Shrine on Christmas," he says.  I look up.  The question I want to ask is "why" but I'm hoping someone will offer up the answer.  Soon would be nice.  Never one to disappoint, my sponsor says, "You need cleansing.  The spirits of the dead have attached themselves to you, and now they're on him" pointing to my husband, "and us," now to himself and his wife.  Of course.

I turn to my husband, knowing looks of 25 years together pass between us with a "Well, clearly this is not a request" stated without words.  "We're going to Ise on the 25th," I say, accepting the invitation I dare not turn down.  Christmas?  What Christmas?  I am being taken to Japan's holiest Shinto shrine on Christmas Day so I can be properly cleansed by a priest.

I must explain this whole spirits-attached-to-me thing.  Stop reading here if the idea or topic of ghosts seems stupid or silly to you.  I'm not asking you to believe.  I'm sharing experiences and observations.

Rewind back ten years or so.  My first encounter with a ghost was in a hotel room somewhere outside of Montreal.  Until this evening I had few strong opinions about ghosts.  Did they exist?  Possibly.  Probably.  Maybe.

I had ordered room service after a day of tedious interpreting.  The scallops, risotto and asparagus were wonderful.  (Why do we remember meals attached to a strong memory?)  I smelled the ghost before I felt him--a very strong whiff of cologne--not entirely unpleasant but only obvious in short bursts and in certain parts of the room.  I didn't think anything of it except it got in the way of my meal, the scent mixing with the scallops leading to a sweet chemical flavor I didn't like.  I moved the tray to the bed, the scent went away and the flavors returned.  Success.  It was much later when I associated the scent with the wearer.  I could smell him where he was in the room.  The nearer he was the stronger the cologne odor.

Not thinking any more of this scent I climbed into bed.  That's when he came back.  The air didn't move, the curtains didn't rustle but the smell of cologne was very powerful.  Then the bed moved.  It's as if someone sat down next to me, the mattress sinking with the weight.  I open my eyes.  Nothing.  I'm certain, though.  Someone is sitting on the edge of the bed.  The cologne is strong.  What does one say to a ghost?  I'm not scared.  Is that a good thing?  While I'm thinking this he gets up, the mattress rising along with him, and next I feel the bed sink at the foot.  He must have sat down again.  Somewhere in all this I fall asleep.

Fast forward to post-disaster Tohoku.  The topic of ghosts is discussed behind closed doors as if openly talking about the spirits caught between worlds will conjure them up into our living rooms.  I became suspicious about the possibility of an additional person in our presence over two years ago while staying at Hiro's office that doubled as my apartment at night.  There were simply too many unexplained noises coming from the next room for me to be completely comfortable.  I began gently broaching the subject, first about ghosts in general, and second keeping the topic generic and not place-specific.  Half of those with whom I spoke had seen or heard a not-quite departed soul.

One night as I battled insomnia tossing and turning I heard a crash in the next room followed by the shuffling of feet.  That was it.  Tonight I made it official:  Hiro's office had a ghost.  All this speculation and ignoring the obvious had to go.

I mention this to Hiro the next morning asking mostly what I'm supposed to do around a ghost.  "Is there anything I can do or say that will help him move onto the next world?"  What am I?  The Ghost Whisperer?  Why would a ghost listen to me?  Then again, maybe no one's told him it's okay to leave this earth.  Is that possible?  I think all this to myself when I look up and see Hiro pale.  "I'm not good with these," he waves his hand in the air, "spirit-things," he says.  "Gives me the creeps."  Great.

Over the next two years I became accustomed to the visitor in the next room as much as one can be comfortable with such a presence.  I wasn't scared of him (I decided it was a he after I heard him sneeze one night) but rather was hoping he'd leave me alone.  Mentioning this to my visa sponsor was clearly what led to the "you-must-go-get-cleansed" comment, an entirely new kind of Christmas present.

So, for Christmas this year, we did something entirely un-Christian.  David and I, along with five other people made our own pilgrimage to Japan's holiest, most sacred and blessed spot.  I don't mess around with religions.  I find beauty in these traditions and while I may not agree with the specific message of each, chose to this year, allow myself to be cleansed by a High Priest.

We'll see whether the cleansed me affects the man in the next room at Hiro's place.  Maybe I'll now some how be immune to him?  Immune?  Is that the right word?

Writing about ghosts isn't funny and I don't mean to make light of or poke fun in any way, and that's precisely why I've not written about them until now.  The combination of my un-Christian Christmas trip and the reasons for it do, however, make for an interesting story.

'Til next time, The End.