Dream Journal: 2013-12-13.01

Sent to a haunted house as a neutral third party to confirm or deny ghost activity. Animatronics everywhere. Lots of paying tourists interacting with the house. They see what they want to see.

A ghost dog appears to guide the scared tourists back to the exit. A tourist’s (smuggled) purse dog jumps out the purse and attacks the ghost dog. Ghost dog falls over as key wires are broken. It’s a robot dog. The pelt is a very good fake.

I take the broken robot and ask the house to lead me to the repair facility. The house does, opening doors to guide me and closing them after me to keep the tourists out. I note there is much more than robotics at play.

The operator is upset the house led me to him but thanks me for not leaving the broken robot in plain sight.

“You sure this is just a robot?”

“Of course I am! I built it!”

“Your haunted house is haunted.”

“Bullshit! I assembled this place myself! Ran every wire! Built every bot!”

“That’s how it was when you started. But I’m telling you, your house is haunted and in a very good way.”

“How? I want proof!”

I removed the power pack from the broken robot dog and handed it to the operator. “Hey, girl! Let him know if you want your robot body fixed. Wag your tail!” I addressed the robot dog and the operator started laughing.

The robot dog’s tail thumped against the table. The operator stopped laughing.

“Nearly everything in that house has a spirit camped in it. But not for pranks. For most of them, this is the last chance they have to interact with the living. Last chance to make someone laugh, make someone smile, make someone feel not as lonely, make someone feel. They are using your animatronics as a cover. The robot dog was attacked because the chihuahua detected the dog’s spirit riding the machine.”

The operator despaired. “The City Council knows this is all robotics. They walked through the house themselves to verify. I can’t have ghosts in here! I’ll lose my license and my business!”

I petted the robot dog’s head out of habit. Still without a power pack, the tail thumped against the table again. “I’m not cleaning them out. They aren’t here for harm nor woe. They police themselves and look out for the frightened. My official report is that your robotics are just that good. What you should do is get to know them. Tweak your robotics to give them a better movement range. Play on the haunted house rumors and have silly robotics. Anyone that can see the real ghosts can see they are not harmful. Everyone else sees only robots.”

“And if anyone asks me directly?”

“Tell them they are facing a challenge to their beliefs. They can see the wires if they want to. When is an omen, an omen? When the viewer believes it to be. We are always surrounded by spirits. Your gear makes it easier to tell ourselves that we are not alone. It is up to each person to decide for themselves.”

I patted the robot dog’s head one last time. “Good night, Opal.”

The operator freaked and demanded how I knew that name. I answered that the ghost dog told me her name.

“I based the appearance of that robot on the dog my family had when I was a kid. She was trained to be a guide dog. Her name was Opal. She died in my senior year of high school.”

I said nothing. I smiled, bowed, and left house and dream.


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