Since I was rocking a diaper bigger than my head at just about 3 months old, I have been very conscious about my surroundings, people and things.

Apparently as soon as I was born, I’ve been a tiny human surveillance camera.  

already taking mental notes on everyone and everything around me. 

Pretty sure I could write a tell-all memoir titled ‘The Crib Chronicles’: about creepy old men standing besides a crib observing a baby moving forward to a ridiculous chaotic life. 

Lying in bed there at night as a stray soul wrapped in an ugly baby vessel (3-6 months old); there was a period of time (can’t remember how long) that I got visits from a very old, half bold, man dressed in a totally ghostly white robe looking like he could be from lunatic asylum or someone seeking for the movie set of a low-budget film in a discount bed sheet showdown.

I saw him hovering above the floor standing (read floating) like a rejected Hogwarts hallway monitor, there to assess my wailing-to-poop ratio and as doing so, in silence observing me. 

I remember very well asking him in my mind who he was and never got an answer. How rude ghosts are.  

The fact that he was not communicating with me eventually disturbed me and scared me a little. 

Further I was not very scared of him though and can’t remember crying or something. Which I probably totally should have done for the sake of scaring him away. But anyway, I didn’t. 

The strange thing is, thinking back as an adult now, at that time I already had an adult mind, I remember. Which is totally weird and disturbing and definitely has vanished after this whole grumpy-old-man-episode.

After a while I telepathically ordered him to go away, leave my room and to never come back again. Which apparently scared him off absolutely. 

He probably must have thought like “wtb, she’s not even a ghost and how dare that little worm to scare the crap out of me like that” lol. 

I then saw him floating to the other side of the room and the last thing I saw from him was the back of his head. As a dog with his tale between his legs.

So the unanswered question I drag with me all my life is: who was he? 

And why was the lurking ghost-man so awefully grumpy! Like, sir, I’m the one being haunted, not you. You’re the one stomping around like someone just told you the afterlife has a dress code and it’s a wrinkled ugly white nightgown thing forever. 

Ghosts are weird. 

So for the sake of having a thumbnail for this blog, I tried to create one by AI, for the sake of uniqueness. That are an awful lot of ‘sakes’, I must admit.

Judging the image, although my grumpy ghost had a much rounder head, this totally fake image fabrication is scarily accurate and the dejà vus are jumping in like crazy. 

Except what the heck happened to that baby’s whole body, supposedly me. Did he eat it? Did the underpart still had to grow through the bars of the crib like a cursed Play-Doh spaghetti press? 

Like no wonder that kid is screaming it’s eyes out. I would too the moment you instantly would realize that you’re partially possessed and pissed that you reincarnated into an insane world with crappy bodies.