Dirtballs, Dead Romans, and Ghost Squirrels
A Christian-Agnostic Inquiry from the Edge of the Physical Plane
Think of these as stray questions from a mind that got locked out and let in something else.
I. Wandering Stars and Dirtball Cosmology
When I walk alone in the woods at night, my brain stops pretending to be normal.
Stars become questions.
Dirtballs become theology.
And sooner or later—always—I start thinking about ghosts.
Which is strange, really—woods should be the least haunted places on Earth.
If ghosts exist, wouldn’t they be more common in cities, towns, hospitals, subways, prisons?
Places with layered trauma, rent control, and central heating?
II. Cities, Corpses, and Other Distractions from the Afterlife
Oddly, cities never make me think of ghosts. I think about corpses.
Not in a morbid way. More like: “Is that alley empty? Or just early?”
Cities are full of noise and neon and humans pretending not to see each other.
Ghosts feel redundant.
Take London. I’ve spent many nights wandering it over the years. Once the gaslights flick on, the city turns Victorian—so I tune my ears for cutthroats and bottle assaults.
But ghosts? Never crossed my mind.
I kept an eye out for fresh crime scenes, sure. But mostly found beer bottles and stoops full of people drinking away the heat.
III. The Wall, the Inn, the Locked Door to Ghostland
Further north, though, things change.
A few years before I walked Hadrian’s Wall, I stayed at a country inn just south of it and got myself locked out. Rather than wake the innkeeper, I took off down the trail under moonlight—past sloping fields, stone fences, and the occasional startled cow.
Hadrian’s Wall was built around AD 120, held for 300 years, and now mostly serves as a place for sheep to scratch themselves.
Once night fully settled in, ghosts came roaring back.
I tried to construct a theology of ghosthood, but failed.
All I came up with was a list.
IV. Casper’s Pensées
Field Notes from the Afterlife
1. How long do ghosts live, if “live” is the word?
Ghosts must have a shelf life, right? No one reports seeing a Cro-Magnon specter trying to decode TikTok. And yet Perry White of The Daily Planet routinely shouted “Great Caesar’s Ghost!”—possibly a personal acquaintance? Do ghosts get bored and move on? If so, where?
2. How many humans become ghosts?
Is it elite status? Random selection? If ghosthood is an option, what steps should I take now to improve my candidacy?
3. What about animals?
Can a squirrel become a ghost? Who does it haunt? Do ghost foxes hunt ghost squirrels? If so, how does one incorporeal being digest another? Or is it just chase for eternity?
4. What goals do ghosts have beyond spooking?
Do they have dreams? Aspirations? Do they gather around and say, “Remember the time I made that real estate agent cry? Good times.”
5. Are ghosts social?
Do they commune? Argue? Fall in love? What if one ghost accidentally scares someone to death and creates another ghost—do they team up or feud eternally over haunting turf?
6. From a Christian theological perspective, are some ghosts saved and others damned?
If damned, is this a waiting room for hell? If saved, why the hold-up? Bureaucratic backlog? Also: Do ghosts have hymns, or just vibes?
7. What can ghosts actually do?
Can they go through walls? Fly? Pick up that rock too heavy for God to lift? Do they continue learning? Or are they locked into the emotional IQ of their death year?
8. Do ghosts haunt places that no longer host the living?
Is Greenland crawling with the ghosts of long-dead Norse farmers under snow and ice? Do they get lonelier the longer humans forget them?
9. Is there a waiting period between death and ghostification?
Like organ donor cards—do you have to opt in? Is there an orientation session where they explain moaning technique and how to rattle chains without thumbs?
10. Are ghosts detectable—or even useful?
Can current technology sense them? Can they be trained or redirected for good? Or are they simply the emotional leftovers of the human experience, floating above our messy world, occasionally turning off the lights?
V. Final Arrangements: My Preferred Haunting Zip Code
Most scholars of ghostification agree: ghosts tend to haunt the physical area where they perished.
Because of this, I’ve left instructions for my kin to keep me on life support—there’s an iPhone app, I believe—and transport me to one of the villages along Hadrian’s Wall.
Good views. Less competition.
A place to settle in, go mostly unnoticed, and wait for whatever comes next.
And if I’m wrong?
I’ll be stuck haunting a sheep pasture with nothing but ghost squirrels and bad cell service.
Note: A spiritually less evolved version of this piece appeared in an earlier post. Casper has since undergone ghostly refinement.
I personally don’t believe in ghosts. I believe they are glitches in the time-space continuum! Great piece, Keith! Funny, as usual. And such great questions!