A HOWLING WIND IN HIS NEW BOAT

By Ben Greenman

from forthcoming collection, as yet untitled

Some recent striking examples have brought emphatically to notice the hold which the habit of acquiring possessions has obtained in some segments of society. Though focus has been placed on the matter from time to time, concern over such behavior was limited largely to the mortal world, to editorials and awareness campaigns conducted by consumer advocates and religious leaders. The debate was not one in which ghosts made their opinion known until recently. Their stance against feckless materialism began ten years ago with random minor opposition voiced spontaneously and simultaneously in an uncoordinated set of regions: some ghosts objected in Maine, some in Texas, some in Missouri, mostly by making spooky noises as people got ready to go to stores, but no one protestor knew of any the others. That was remedied by the appearance of an organized movement headed up by a coterie of phantasms up and down the East Coast. Dubbing themselves Revenants For Responsibility, they endeavored to explain to the living that possessions were an inadequate protection against oblivion, and that time would certainly sweep away not only all material acquisitions but the emotional comforts they claimed to confer. They inserted into dreams images of bodies peeling into skeletons, of skeletons crumbling into dust, of infernal flames leaping from otherwise common currency, of malls filled with skulls. The goal, as they explained in their charter, was not to prevent mortals from having things, but to prevent them from defining themselves primarily by the things they had, and they were motivated not by anger and envy but by wisdom and contrition. “Several of us lived the way we see them living today,” their charter read, “and we know full well that the spiritual agony that results from arrogant consumption is more than lasting: it is eternal.” The RRs, as they dubbed themselves, appear to have achieved little, unless it be an increase in the number of people making purchases. Buying parties, commonly called “dollar orgies,” are more prevalent than ever in Washington, New York, and Boston, some of the same cities counted among RR strongholds. Spending habitués may conveniently be separated into two categories: those who buy things with a feeling of slight shame (they tend to pretend the objects they purchase are presents for others) and those who buy things with a feeling of misplaced pride (they insist that they are “exercising consumer confidence” or “boosting the economy”). Whatever the affect of the practitioner, excessive spending is chiefly practiced by those of higher status, and while the quantity which can be spent varies, it is always large. In one recorded recent case a man spent $58,000 in twenty-four hours. Word got out along the RR network, and by the end of the following day the man was subject to several moderate haunts, including the spoilage of two high-priced bottles of wine and the sound of a howling wind in his new boat. Despite these, the man’s first feeling was one of exhilaration. As he readied himself for bed, the RRs vowed to one another that they would deliver a series of dreams terrifying enough to fully reform the profligate, but their tone was one of anxious bravado rather than calm confidence.