The Dreamspinner

My ghost is a crafty one; she strikes at anytime, maybe in the car, when I am doing homework, or in the shower…
Sometimes she is welcome. I let her control me, in awe as she conjures the infinite parade of possibilities limited only to my imagination. I pick one. Then she helps me bring it to life, bestowing limitless energy, keeping me up to wee hours of the morning. Working like a mad man, my will undaunted, my mind unfogged and sometimes myself unbathed, my ghost fuels me. I am obsessed with breathing life into my creation. All other things come secondary. In those times her name is Inspiration and she is my most powerful ally.
Other times she comes uninvited. Normally when I need to get something very boring or tedious done. Never stopped by the binding chains I keep the raging demon Anger in. She slips through, and slowly works her way into my soul. Suggesting, whispering, tempting, she slowly gains control. Without me realizing it she soon has me doing something much more interesting. Then when she is through with her game, her image and inspiration are blown away into the laughing frigid night air. She’s merciless and uncaring about a report due the next day, only interested in what she wants. In those times my ghost is named Distraction and she is my most dangerous enemy.
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I guess this ghost has been with me since I was little. Everyone has an imagination fantasizing about fairy tales, stuffed animals, and knights in shining armor. Eventually, we are supposed to grow out of it. I however refused to let her go and with me she stayed. Changing herself to better appeal to my age as I grew.
She became one of my greatest tools to me to do what I wanted. With her at my side nothing seemed impossible. If she found them interesting she granted me amazing powers.
I have always searched for new ways to do things. And I am easily impressionable because of her. If I don’t watch out she will often times inspire me to unachievable goals. Which after many hours of toiling I will finally realize are impossible. Many undertaken projects in my room lay untouched because of her.
My ghost’s power grew as I continued to feed her year after year. She became powerful enough to challenge me for dominance at times. Her power is great enough so that she is almost able to break free from me. I should have known that a full blown confrontation was bound to happen soon.
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She comes during my homework, unwelcome. Tonight my ghost takes the shape of a hauntingly beautiful pale demoness. She often changes her appearance to whatever provocative form she feels like. She is after all, an immortal.
“What’cha doin’?” she asks glancing over my shoulder mildly amused as she inspects her nails. It seems she is unsatisfied with them and they lengthen and morph to a rich dark red to match her lipstick, a haunting look, contrasting her pale powdered face and perfectly pointed white fangs.
“Homework, go away” comes my short response. I don’t look at her, fearing distraction.
She ignores my rudeness, already used to this kind of treatment during my homework sessions.
“That’s so boring,” she yawns and stretches.
“Wouldn’t you rather do something else?” she bumps my pen to the ground. I bend to pick it up, and notice the video game lying underneath; I frown and try to continue.
“Yes, but I have to finish this tonight”
“Oh” she says absentmindedly as she fiddles with my colored pencils They take a life of their own for a while and twist themselves into indescribable bizarre and intriguing shapes and patterns.
“I thought you had a break tomorrow.”
“I do but it's only half an hour” I say my voice beginning to strain.
“So?” she asks as she fans a cloud of dust into my face making me sneeze.
I finally get annoyed with her.
“Go away, you're distracting me!” I wave her away.
At those words my room melts away, it’s just me and her standing on a small island. Large blind fish swim in the black water, the only other life in the misty gloom that I can see.
“Ahh, but am I not your inspiration as well? Do I not help you birth your ideas or fill you with passion at times?” Her sweet voice begins to sharpen.
“Long ago you sold Focus to me.” Eyes begin to dance with fire.
“I am your dream spinner.” Her fury now barely contained.
“I made you the sculptor of realities.” A beautiful face twisted in rage.
“Are you not happy!?!” Her voice finally reaches a booming crescendo pounding in my ears filling the black void. I try to hide, but everywhere is filled with ringing accusation.
I nearly drown in the noise. It tosses me uncaringly as the sea throwing me against the rocks nearly pounding me to oblivion. I see an island, desperately I swim. I make it, exhausted I lie in the sand.
She appears and bends down to talk to me. Her voice is soothing and clam, not a trace of malice that she had just a minute ago.
"Don’t you realize that you need me? I am a part of you. Cross me again and I will break you."
“Your imagination is the limit…” I find myself back in my room. Picking up a pencil. Her pale face is now a wicked smile. I can feel her frozen breath as she watches behind me.
My neck prickles. She’s right it think to myself. I can't fight her. She's in everything I do now. To exorcise her is like killing a part of me. On the other hand If I don’t destroy her she will forever haunt me. One day during our desperate power struggles I may no longer be master, but slave. Am I willing to live with that?
"Yes." I say aloud.
Her grin grows wider exposing more glittering teeth
"Good" she says as though reading my thoughts
I hesitate.
I hear her voice, barely a whisper into my ear.
“Now, let me take control.”