If you check my biog on my website (www.davidgatward.com) you’ll find it mentions something about my having seen two ghosts. Thinking about it, it should probably say three, but lets not worry about that; ghosts are ghosts.

Or are they?

I’ve not the faintest idea what it was that I saw. Yes, I can tell you that one was a man in a black suit, hands crossed in front of him, staring at me across a lawn as he stood under a tree in his large top hat. It was a sunny day, too, which was weird. The other was a woman in a blue dress who appeared in a caravan I was living in (such a lifestyle I’ve lead…) some years ago (and no, it wasn’t my mother demanding I do something sensible with my life, or an angry ex-girlfriend demanding her CDs back).

So what were they? I’ve not the faintest idea. Plenty of ideas rattle around the world though about such phenomena: our minds playing tricks; our memories playing out like movie clips; energy caught in a place like a film on a reel; spirits of the dead…

All I can say is that I saw those things. They Actually Happened. I can say no more. But even now, the mystery of them unnerves me, but in an exciting way! It’s that sense of the unknown, the unexplainable, the mysterious, the just plain weird.

I like horror for the same reason. I like stories that deal with the unexplainable, stuff that can make your skin crawl. But the real ghost that haunt me, the real horror, is memories of me in my teen years. Not because of my fashion choices were pretty dodgy (permed hair and climbing tights anyone?), but because of what I wanted to do with my life, the aims I had, the dreams.

Every now and again, I get hit by an echo of my voice through the years I’ve lived. It’s faint, but if I concentrate, I can still hear it. And its a voice with high hopes and ambitions and dreams and ideas. It’s a voice that wants to make this life count.

That’s the real ghost the haunts me; a memory of myself dreaming about the future. And I kind of think I still owe it to that kid to not give up on what he set out to do and to keep giving it all I’ve got. Failing him? Now that’s scary.

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