The Three Symbols

Dear Diary,
 
Some days I feel as if I shall never find rest while others are long and languid, and time drags its feet like a petulant child. Although I am not in the habit of complaining (despite the fact I am oft unable to get out of bed as I am beset with fatigue and body aches), last week was particularly sluggish and dull.
 
Most of the week I spent recovering from a recent illness that kept me bed bound, as if I were to so much as sit up, I would surely faint. When my health had been somewhat restored, I spent the last of these idle days inquiring into certain affairs. Although I did not discover anything particularly interesting (except that she keeps fewer friends than even I).
 
It was Saturday when I finally decided to pay a visit to my dear friend Madam Lowana. I regret not having enough time to stipend her with, as I owe a great deal to her. As it was she that found me in my weakest hours, and who now keeps me grounded to this plane of existence, although this unlife is suffering in its most extreme. It is also she who seeks to help me traverse these mortal bindings and set me free.
 
It shames me to think of the wealth I knew in my living days, as I am now deeply impoverished. I am sure my living self would pass from shock to see me scrounging in the dust laden rooms of the lower floors, behind ancient sofa cushions and cracks in moulden floorboards. Still, one is unable to travel without tender, so I thought myself lucky to find a half dollar in the back of an empty till.
 
Upon hailing a cab, there seemed to be some confusion about the value of a half dollar. I am still unfamiliar with the currency of these convicts. Perhaps it is similar to the Eastern orients with their imaginary sums.
 
Regardless, I managed to get himself to Madam Lowana, where as always, she greeted me with warm, arms. Madam Lowana is a large woman, dark-skinned, and her tongue makes me feel homesick as it carries the twang of southern natives. But I had come with a purpose, not to spend my hours inquiring into that wonderfully open mind of hers.
 
As she always does, she asked if I would meet her friends, and if I had made any friends of my own. She’s always saying that friends are wonderful things to have, and that it does one well to share their company. But Madam Lowana’s company is mine alone, and I have not made proper friends with the others. And why would I? They are of lower stock and their hands are dirty and their minds impure.
 
So I told her as I always tell her, yes, yes, of course Madam Lowana, what a splendid idea. But I shall continue to keep her as I always have – to myself.
 
I told her of my vision. As a ghost it is only natural for me to be deeply in touch with the other world and beyond, but even Madam Lowana seemed surprised. These three symbols are things from old times. The one drawn in threads of lightning resembled the rainbow serpent, both a giver of life and a destructive force. A creator. She was less certain about the second symbol, that which came in oozing liquid, but it prompted imagery of Aboriginal bunyips. These creatures were once a protectors of man, but now have been diluted with legend. The last symbol she did not recognise, just that it was old.
 
I am not like the others. I am set apart from them. I am both cursed and blessed. Special. Precious. I left Madam Lowana feeling both lighter and weighted down with the knowledge of my divine favour.