Ghost Babies & Not Giving Up

Carrying around phantom puppies and a host of unfulfilled dreams.

My dog is currently pregnant with ghost babies. They’re not real - a hormonal mishap: her body thinks she is carrying it’s first litter, but her tiny womb is in fact barren as ever. Apparently it will go away on it’s own, but in the meantime, I can’t help but picture her playing with a set of tiny phantom puppies, transparent and hazy, defying the laws of gravity to catch tennis balls in mid-air. I’ve got to try and encourage her to not think she’s pregnant - distractions, normal routine, and under no circumstances, any nesting. If she stops thinking she’s pregnant, then the ghost puppies should loosen their grip, disappearing into the ether from whence they came.

As I hold her, noticing her swollen teats and slightly distended lower belly, I wonder what phantom babies I have hanging around me. There’s so many dreams I cling to, have clung to, for longer than I can remember. They play hop-scotch around my head while I try to concentrate. Phantom puppies, the ghosts of things I have held in my mind for years, planning to get to some day, or trying to reach and failing to. Sometimes it feels heavy to be weighed down by so many shadows of what-could-be’s. My mind is like a hall of fame of forgotten projects, a walking tour of best laid plans and a gallery show of all of the different versions of myself that I could commit to being, but just haven’t been able to yet. On one wall there is a giant canvas of me in my old studio, working tirelessly at my sewing machine. On another, I’m in scrubs, putting my special interest in first aid to good use. In the centre of the room, a table covered in all of the books I could have written. In the corner, a TV playing repetitive clips from all the lives that could be mine.

I can understand the temptation to nest. I think I may have been doing this for some time. Pulling all of these phantoms in close, I let them exist in their incomplete forms, trapping them as half-formed ideas rather than either letting them dissipate, or become whole in reality. I could go and train to take blood, or take that portrait of me in scrubs down from the wall - but instead, I’ve been simply standing in front of it, dwelling lightly on it’s potential, but not acting other than to occasionally browse NHS jobs before falling asleep at night. I dabble in a thousand projects, but struggle to progress in any as I can’t prioritise my time, seeing them all as possibilities, all as worthy. Perhaps it is time I need to let some of my ghosts go. I’m still not entirely sure which ones - but the acceptance of their leaving feels like a start.

Christmas was a good time to dwell on such things, partially due to all work generally slowing down a little, and partially due to my phone being snatched out of my hands on Christmas Eve after working an intense double shift. It was inevitable that it would happen eventually, part of London’s charm at the moment, and I suppose I did manage 27 years phone-theft-free so I had a pretty good run. It was pretty devastating to lose the whole year’s worth of memories, but after spending some forced introspective time offline I’ve accepted the loss as a much better outcome than it happening to someone in a worse position than me. It has however spurred on this need to shake free my haunting little phantoms - if I was really living, and doing, and being, then surely the loss of this technology brick wouldn’t have meant so much to me. I don’t want my only success, my only friends, my only world to be on the internet when it’s a thing that could, in theory, just simply not exist tomorrow.

So, I suppose here’s to letting go of all kinds of ghost babies, both the ones that are playful puppies and the ones that are childhood fantasies. It’s time to actually be rather than consider to be. I spent 2024 breaking down a lot of things within myself, my entire concept of love and future by fully accepting my queerness, becoming polyamorous (very successfully, might I say) and pushing myself in new creative ventures and fields I never thought I would. But, now it is time to really focus on what makes me happy day-to-day, regardless if that looks different now through adult eyes compared to the rose-tinted glasses of my youth. I know my future doesn’t look the way I expected, no nuclear family or ageing gracefully, so there is no reason why I can’t re-learn my dreams, too. Perhaps there is a phantom puppy for every dream version of me, and once we both let them go they can each pair up on another astral plane.

My tarot spread from the last full moon of the year urged me to focus on creating, working on things that bring me joy rather than just products for financial gain. I felt a bit resistant to this message at first, upset that I am not earning enough to afford to do this, but I do agree carving out what time there is left in the day to fill the hunger I have for art does ultimately bring me huge satisfaction and happiness. Like a vampire late on a feed, I become irritable, hostile and depressive the longer I go without losing myself in making something. Tonight I asked the cards what to do - how will I know what I need to let go of? What should I pursue, and where am I on that journey? They answered with the Nine of Wands, backed up with a confirmation of the Knight of Cups at the bottom of the deck. Interpret how you will, but I feel seen as coming to a point of transformation on my own accord; backed up with an understanding of my ways, a dreamer. It’s time to move forward and follow passion wholeheartedly.

I wish you the very best holiday season and lead up to New Year,

Eerie x