I used to have a big old valve radio that my grandfather refurbished for me. Massive great thing all bakelite and coarse fabric with one of those large illuminated dials listing all sorts of exotic places like Sottens and Hilversum.
Once we'd moved house and I had my own bedroom I used to listen to it as I fell asleep - a far cry from the popular trope of listening to a transistor radio under the covers but I made do with what I had. I was 14 at the time. Often it was Capital Radio as sometimes they had quite good music on at night, or LBC as I liked the phone-ins.
One night I woke from a confused dream in a panic, hearing voices and thinking there was someone in my room. Or was there a ghost in my room, and these people were discussing it? It was a man and a woman talking quietly and urgently to each other. Then the man said something that sent a chill down my spine.
"What's the matter, don't you want him dead?"
Were they talking about the ghost? Were they talking about me? I continued flying around and around the ceiling of my bedroom which is where I'd found myself when I awoke.
It dawned on me that it was just the radio - it was a radio play or perhaps an extract from a film on a review programme.
I calmed down and floated down to the floor, reached for the bakelite on / off switch and found I couldn't gain purchase on it, my fingers just kept slipping.
I realised this was because I was actually still lying down so I dropped back down into bed and forced myself to physically sit up, walk over to the radio and actually turn it off. This time it did so with a satisfyingly audible (and tangible) click.
I'd been the ghost all along.
