On creepy kids and internal philosophical debates

I love ghost stories, especially in the fall and winter when it gets really dark and spooky out. Whenever the days start getting shorter, my interest in the macabre grows. Horror movies, documentaries on serial killers, ghost encounter stories... they're all great when you're huddled up in your duvet and the wind is howling outside of your window. Freaky shit in general makes me happy. I don't scare easily, so that feeling of apprehension that settles in your stomach when you've just read something that gives you chills is amazing. I spent a lot of time last night and tonight reading the reddit thread titled 'What is the most disturbing thing your kid has said when talking about their 'imaginary friend'?', and man, kids are scary motherfuckers.

Reading through the thread, I tried remembering any imaginary friends I may have had as a kid, and I don't think I had any. I was a kid who liked doing things on my own, and while I remember trying to have an imaginary friend, much like I tried to understand what was fun about playing with dolls or Barbie, but that I kept forgetting about it and not really paying much attention. It was one of those things other kids did, that I didn't really get. I just remember ultimately not giving a crap. If something didn't interest me, it didn't matter if the rest of the world were devoted to it, heart and soul. It's probably one of the prime reasons I managed to avoid all that peer pressure surrounding liking Backstreet Boys, N'Sync and other 90's boy bands way back in my middle school days.

Christ, these people looked ridiculous.

Anyways, I'm really fascinated by the whole kids and the supernatural thing. I've been watching a show called The Ghost Inside My Child, which is about reincarnation and children apparently remembering details from 'past lives'. I don't know if I believe in it (and the title of the show irks me, as it's not about ghosts at all so much as unexplained 'memories' if you will), but the concept is interesting. What if our souls really are recycled like that, and we take some parts with us when we start a new life? What if these 'memories' that the kids seem to be having aren't just the result of an active imagination and bits and pieces of information strung together in the mind to be interpreted as a plausible memory? What if all those times I've died in dreams, from drowning, motorbike accidents and getting hung, were real memory images? Not that I think they were, but musing over what the world would be like if these things were true is interesting to me.

I don't know about you silent readers, but I think a good chill down one's spine during the cold months is good for you. That in combination with overthinking life, death and everything inbetween makes for maybe not haha-funny but pretty stimulating internal philosophical debates with yourself. Hey, a girl needs something to do during the cold Swedish winters. Bring on the scones and sad singer-songwriters and let's pick apart our brains for a bit.