Wuthering Trauma

When we think of ghosts, hauntings, and things that terrify us when we are alone in the dark, the things that makes us race to the light switch at the end of the hall, the things that make out hearts race or pulse quicken.  

A common theme is the poor soul who has gone through something so violent, so terrible that they cannot move on; they cannot go into the light and reach their full potential. What a terribly sad forlorn idea, it is melancholic because it is darkly beautiful; the idea of some jilted lover killing her adulterous husband and now the spirits locked together, forever in a dark dance playing out the heart ache. Over and over it plays, lost souls trying to find their way out, or home.

Every day we see this with the living as well, some poor girl having her innocence robbed too young, now plagued with eating disorders and confusing affection with love. The young boy beaten by an alcoholic mother and neglected by an absent father, and now he punches holes into the walls and his lovers. On and on it goes; the soldier whose war followed him home and is now hyper-vigilant, the cop drowning himself in whiskey every night, the exotic dancer watching herself in the mirror. These clichés are tragic, melancholic, and far too often the norm. We are haunted in our lives and we haunt after our deaths.

Trauma is such a powerful thing, it is as powerful as hate, as powerful as love, it transcends all language, culture, and even death.