I don't believe in ghosts like dead people. I think whitish ghosts you hear about are actually angels. I'd like to think of unrecognizable ghosts as demons wich go away if you get upset, because that's when they reached their goal. I like to think there's a god and a devil and they have their followers. As long as I stay on the good side the bad side can't hurt me. But that'll never be a problem, because I like helping people and being nice and I hate being angry or do bad things. I used to be really scared of aliens when I was younger. I never remember seeing them now. I would dream about Xenomorph from the movie Alien. I'd have nightmares about them, but at the end of the nightmare I'd have a Zenomorph as pet. That was when I wouldn't be scared anymore and the dream got boring and I woke up. Actually I quite liked those scary dreams. I do sometimes think I see someone, but then I realize I'm actually seeing myself. It's the emotions I pushed away. Remember the image I made recently of a room with a table and chair with a rose in a vase on the table? It's one of the places I like to go to in my mind. I can just stand there looking from the exact same spot as seen in the render and after a while I see a dark figure sitting on the chair being really depressed. I can't actually see the figure, but I just know it's there. The figure is the part of my mind where all the bad emotions I suppressed over the years are. I never knew that untill recently. I usually leave that place before I recognise who the figure is, but I decided once to wait and find out if my mind knew who the figure was, so I did one step forward and suddenly the figure turned and looked at me. I recognized my own face, only really develish and like it had been dead for months. Naturally I got really scared and I snapped back into reality. But unlike when I went to that room I was just extremely angry. I've never ever been so angry in my life before. It was just this great dense explosion of agression. I just had to hit something, so I punched at the wall as hard as I could for 5 minutes. I punched so hard that little pieces of dust and plaster came down from the edge of the ceiling. After I was done I was so tired I couldn't lift my arms. Luckily no-one was home at the time so no-one noticed it. My hands hurt for 3 weeks. But after that I felt lot's better. Like all the negative emotions I stored over the years are finally just gone. I never see the figure anymore when I go to that room.

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