This post is not about the television show or movie named Dark Shadows.  The old TV show does inform some of my “darker” thoughts though..

It’s not often that I ride through an area that feels creepy, as if something bad has happened, spirits lingering with malevolent intent.  I don’t believe in ghosts but there are times when the complex chemical workings of my body and mind get the best of me.

On the morning I made this photograph I could feel my skin prickling.  My hand was in my pocket on my phone wondering how quickly I could dial 911, wondering if there was any cell coverage.

In the darkness just off the road sat Camp Antler, an old hunting camp that could serve as a cinematic location for another episode in the Hannibal Lecter series.  Or perhaps one of the woodsman’s cabins on the grounds of Collingwood.  Kim and I had been discussing one of the local missing person cases where the person just vanished.  My mind was telling me they would find them here.  Or someone else.

The phone wasn’t needed and as quickly as the feeling surfaced it faded when the Vespa entered the sunshine a few miles up the road.  Faded, but not forgotten.

The weather seemed odd for a couple days.  The clouds conspired to force uncomfortable thoughts about life and death.  I swore I could feel the blood pumping past the drug eluting stent near my heart.  Looking up I couldn’t tell if the clouds were closing in our the sky was opening up.  That unsettled feeling stuck with me for days despite engaging the Vespa riding prescription for ailments of the heart and mind.

More than once on the way to work the world seemed empty.  I wondered if the earth was passing through some strange electromagnetic field that triggered my hypothalamus to secrete odd hormones that were affecting my imagination powers.

Walking through our garden at dusk often triggers thoughts of spirits and creatures etched carefully by books, movies and television shows.  I would not be surprised to see Barnabas Collins as I passed by this old garden angel.

In the parking lot at the hospital I found safety with the herd — in this instance parked next to a Triumph Tiger motorcycle.  I was early for cardiac rehab and there were few people around.  Surely the vampires were back in their coffins and the werewolves were asleep in the fields and forests.  And in minutes the dark shadows departed.  Perhaps 21 minutes on an elliptical trainer is the antidote for an imagination run amok.  Or a serious Alpine pass program on an exercise bike.  Or maybe I just grew tired of the mental exercising that often takes place when I’m thinking about things.

When I came out 90 minutes later the sun was shining and the world was a pleasant place.

But I miss the drama…