Author by : Emily Seate

It all started with the full moon, or Harvest Moon, as it is called when it occurs near the Autumn Equinox. As is my usual habit, I stood outside beneath that glorious orb, basking in reflected light, feeling the magic of a night, not dark and filled with stars, but a pale reflection of day. A faint breeze caused branches to move, their moonlit shadows to flutter. More magic. For a brief moment, I was not in this world anymore. A fitting prelude to the great night to come. The Hallowed Night, born in a dark time filled with faeries, and little people, the worship of trees, the exaltation of wizards, Druidic priests, and the mystical.

Next morning in strong sunlight, I opened the morning paper and turned pages. On my way to the editorials, I passed through the obituaries–and stopped, my eyes drawn to the upper right-hand corner, to a woman’s photograph. She was lovely, with a captivating smile. I read the obituary, struck by the birthdate–the exact same as my own, even to the year. The woman had died in an accident. A crazy thought came to mind. She died so I wouldn’t have to. No doubt, my real self still stood beneath that magical Harvest Moon.

Was this also a prelude to All Hallow’s Eve? A time when the gate that separates this life and the next is lowered, and spirits travel freely from one world to the next, or so myth would have us believe? Had I been reminded of my own mortality? Or my own immortality? For it is not just we mortals who are invited to Otherworld. Otherworldly spirits also enter our reality on that one night, or so it has been said over the centuries.

On that night, we dress up in costumes and wear ‘false’ faces. Now it is for fun, but how did such customs begin? Could it have been so we would not be recognized? So we would not tempt those in Otherworld to snatch us, ensnare us, hold us in Otherworld as the gate slowly rises to once again separate one reality from the other.

What about those who come our way from Otherworld? Will they, too, wear false faces? Will they dress as goblins or gargoyles, creatures designed to scare us into staying in this world? Or will they be their wispy selves, disembodied spirits, touching us not with cold fear, but with a gentle, barely noticed caress?

Will we know them? Or will they be strangers, no matter how they are clothed or not clothed? Or will they be just like us, simply living in a different dimension, like humanoid creatures from a Star Trek movie?

Some days later, beneath a waning moon, I contemplated Otherworld. On All Hallow’s Eve, or Samween, as the ancient Irish dubbed it, would I be able to walk into the world of my afterdeath, or be visited by someone who had gone before. That has not happened to me before, at least not on Hallowe’en. Why would I think it would happen now? I do not even like to wear a ‘false’ face, preferring to meet everyone with my own visible, in ‘character’ with myself.

My dreams that night were of Prince Anwen, he of disarming character and illusive nature. I floated through his land until I reached his castle, which at first appeared light and airy. But as I watched, the medieval place became filled with clanking armor, dimly-lit chandeliers, cobwebs, moans and ghastly surprises. Wispy folk followed me everywhere I went, or popped out from behind a door. At first I could not see myself in my dream. I looked out through my eyes, an omnipresent goddess surveying her gossamer realm. But did it belong to me? Was this my world? Or Otherworld? Was the gate still lowered, or was it slowly rising, shutting me off from where I needed to be?

I did what any sane person would do. I woke up. I got up. I went to the kitchen for a drink of water. A sliver of moon shone through the kitchen window, it’s gentle light softening the terrors of my dream. Reminding me of what comes after All Hallow’s Eve.

This morning’s light reveals a world in tact after a night of scary stuff, a world filled with the memories of all those who have lived before us and gone on, not to Otherworld, not just to a different dimension, but to a just and eternal reward. The scary superstition of Hallowe’en eternally followed by the beauty and glory of All Soul’s Day, a day to honor our ancestors, and in some measure, ourselves. How perfect is that?

[tags]Halloween, ghosts, goblins, All Soul’s Day, immortality, mortality, celebration[/tags]

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