Recently there was a social-media-shared photo that went viral, reminding us that it was 25 years since Freddy Mercury passed away.  I instantly started to write about my reflections on him, his talent (talent doesn’t even seem like a big enough word), how much the world has changed since his passing, wondering what he would have thought about certain things now, were he still alive.

I’ve lived a pretty long time– like, half a century– and I’ve heard of the loss of many a famous person, entertainer, icon. Yet, somehow, Freddy is the one I think of the most. I remember him as he was, in his stunning, glorious youth… and I imagine what he is like, in an alternate timeline, one where AIDS didn’t exist, one where he lives to be an old man. I imagine him, in his later career, doing charity work and collaborative projects… like, say, duets with Amy Winehouse, Adele… but not Justin Bieber.  I imagine the awards and accolades he would have received.

That’s the kind of ghosts I want to believe in, the ones that live out the life they were meant to, or could have, had things turned out differently…

I was thinking about ghosts the other day when I was booking a hotel on a nearby island.  I’ve never been to this hotel, though I researched it a few years ago for a retreat-that-never-happened. Another hotel on the Island boasts of its ghosts that wander the corridors, and I wondered if that appealed to certain types of guests. You know, pro-ghost guests vs anti-apparition visitors.

What if I see a ghost in the non-ghost hotel? Will the ghosts in the ghost-friendly Inn be angry? If I do ever meet a ghost, maybe it will be singing Bohemian Rhapsody….