The Ghosts of Berlin

Berlin is a city filled with ghosts. It's a city that has a strange atmosphere that hangs over it, one that can't quite be explained. This is by no means a slate on what is a beautiful place. Quite the opposite, in fact, in that this odd feeling only adds to the allure, drawing in people from all walks of life.

It's taken me several weeks to analyse the forty-eight hours that I spent in Germany's capital city. I'm still mulling it over even as I write this.

This is a city that has experienced a lot and much of it is embedded in the streets and buildings. A feeling that someone is constantly watching you. A sense that anarchy could break loose at any moment. A feeling that anything could happen and that the extraordinary would surprise no one.

Last year, I wrote about ghostly encounters in Las Vegas. This year, it's the turn of Berlin and, for a city so steeped in history, it certainly doesn't hold back with the spirit activity.

On November 7^th, I flew into the city on my very first visit (it won't be my last). The hotel I'd picked had come on the recommendation of a friend and, for the first time, I found myself staying in luxury. While the exterior matched a lot of the city in its stark grey concrete, it turned out that this was just a facade, one that fooled me. With a lobby that could fit my entire apartment building in it and a chandelier that looked like something from a fairy tale, I definitely felt like I was in the wrong place. Except that I wasn't.

My room was equally as beautiful with a comfortable bed and a view over the main road outside. The hotel was based in Berlin's business district and, across the road, were buildings that had bore the appearance of housing something useful. Much like the hotel, the exteriors were bland and functional, hiding what they truly were.

Yet there was a strange feeling to the room, one that made me cold and nervous. Turning off the lights only made the atmosphere heavier and, like a character in a horror film, I dived beneath the bed's covers. And, as night fell, I discovered why the room felt like it did.

I went to bed at around 2am on that first night. I hadn't drunk any alcohol and I'm now completely free of drugs and other medications. The only thing bothering me was the weight of the exhaustion that lay on my shoulders and head. I felt as though I was going to sleep for an age, hopefully only waking once the sun was up.

But there was something in the room that refused to let me rest. At the end of my bed stood a dark figure. Even with the light from the streetlights outside, I couldn't make out any of the figure's features. It was just a tall shadowy being that gave off an evil feeling. To me, it felt as though it had served in the military, more than likely in a far higher capacity than a mere foot soldier. This was someone who had been in charge. Someone who had issued orders rather than follow them.

As I've done so many times before, I commanded the being to leave. Yet it refused, instead steadfastly remaining at the end of the bed. Its presence made me ill and, some time during the night, I heard something that sounded like a gunshot.

That night I slept less than three hours. Normally I can fall asleep wherever I am (I'm one of those people who can, and will, fall asleep on planes, trains and in cars) and being in a new place rarely bothers me as I carry a few small creature comforts that help me to settle. On average I sleep around six hours a night.

The following morning, I was out of the room as soon as I could make myself presentable. I went and had breakfast and started on the rest of my plans despite the fog that eclipsed my brain. I was beyond tired and all I wanted to do was crawl somewhere warm and quiet for a few more hours.

I left the hotel at around mid-day and didn't return for another thirteen hours, falling into bed at around 1am. By now, I was beyond exhausted. I'd battled my fears, delivered a pumpkin, walked for what felt like miles, been out in the cold, attended a concert, danced like a fool, and had several long discussions with my friend. All I wanted was to sleep.

But that wasn't going to happen. As soon as the lights were out, that omnipresent feeling returned, cloaking the room in a darkness that was far blacker than the night outside. Again, the figure was at the end of my bed, watching over me like some kind of evil godfather. Again, I asked it to leave. Again, it didn't. It never moved and, despite the lack of facial features, I got the distinct feeling that it was looking at me.

That night I slept for less than two hours.

Once I'd returned home, I decided to do some research on the area. The adjacent streets house a number of embassies, museums and other government agencies. The building that was directly opposite the hotel, and which I could see from the window, was the German Resistance Movement Memorial Center.

Resistance Movement Memorial Center

During WW2, there was a plot to assassinate Hitler. It didn't go to plan and the members of this plot were executed in the courtyard of the building that now holds the memorial centre. Was the being in my hotel room one of the firing squad? Or perhaps the person who had ordered those executions? Maybe the hotel now stands in the footprint of another building that housed a military division and the spirit I was seeing was linked to that?

Thankfully it wasn't all bad. There was one presence that spent the weekend with me, making sure that I was in the right places at the right times. Were the people that apparently appeared out of nowhere to guide me on to trains, help me when I became sick, and helped me around a city that I felt like an alien in placed there by this being? Whatever it was and wherever it was from, it was a constant source of comfort during my two days in Berlin. After I'd dropped my package at the arena, I decided to take a walk. Despite my tears, there was a feeling of love and comfort that surrounded me. This was the complete opposite of the darkened being in my hotel room. Whatever was with me in those hours had the colour pink associated with it and was forever at my right shoulder. I don't know what it was, nor where it came from, but its presence was one that I was constantly thankful for.

How Four Days, Three Flights, Two Concerts and a Pumpkin Changed My Life

Or Why I Delivered Flowers to Dave Grohl

The plan was beautiful in its simplicity. Take a package to a florist and get them to deliver it along with a floral display.

Except that sometimes the universe likes to throw curve-balls in order to test and change us.

I'd finished a book and screenplay that I wanted to get into someone's hands. Unfortunately, I don't have that person's contact details so getting it to them was going to need some creative logistics.

Which is how I wound up in Berlin armed with a package of bound papers and a list of florists. I landed in Germany on Saturday afternoon, giving me enough time to make my drop off once I'd checked into my hotel.

The flight to Berlin

Only I hadn't thoroughly done my research. Unlike the UK, Berlin doesn't have Sunday shop openings nor deliveries. And I didn't have a plan B. In the ways of any bad gambler, I'd bet everything on one option and hoped I'd hit the jackpot.

Once upon a time, when I was medicated, I was very methodical. Back then, I'd have spoken to people, done my homework and found out that nothing opens on a Sunday in Berlin. I'd have had plans A through Z ready before I left the UK.

In my determination to lead a drug free life, I've discovered that aspects of my previous life have died. This is in no way a bad thing as, at that point, I needed a monotonous routine to survive. Except that's not who I am and it did nothing to feed my heart and soul. Yet nothing would change while I was medicated.

As the drugs wore off, so things began to change. Some were for the better while some were for the worse. I had more energy and my brain processed things faster than it previously had (sometimes a little too fast). On the downside I began to forget things, my moods swung and I struggled to define the emotions I was feeling for the first time in a decade.

As I began to live back in the real world, I realised that my life purpose and my current life didn't match. I became frustrated and withdrawn. I know what I want to do with my life but I currently don't have the means to achieve it without the investment and help of other people.

So I seized the opportunity to go to Berlin and ask for help.

And nearly sabotaged myself in the process.

There's a lot of walls I've built around myself over the years. Walls of fear and uncertainty. No matter how much I enjoy being creative, I fear that my work isn't good enough. I'm scared of being scorned, humiliated or outright ignored. My default setting for the past year has been “Why bother? No one is listening”.

A section of the Berlin Wall

Then there's the crippling anxiety that prevents me from doing so many things. It's a feeling that makes me vomit.

But you want to know how and why I gave Dave Grohl a pumpkin filled with flowers.

One of my proofreaders had suggested that I pass the screenplay on to him. She's a wonderfully intuitive woman whose advice I'm always willing to listen to. After discussing it with the few other people in our group, I decided to give it a go. Because what did I have to lose?

With no one able to make a delivery, it was up to me to do it, an idea that filled me with fear. I had no plan B and had absolutely no intention of making such deliveries.

Except the universe also likes to send people to help us and I'm eternally grateful for the amazing group of people I've found myself surrounded by. Tom from Given to Live was also in Berlin and is one of the best motivators I've had the pleasure of meeting.

However, what was supposed to be a nice weekend in Germany turned in to a frustrated battle as he tried to talk me into a new plan. Meanwhile, I did what I normally did when faced with the cold, hard truth of what I needed to do. I shut down. I refused to speak or answer questions. I did everything in my power to ignore the situation because, in reality, I didn't want to face it. I was terrified of peoples reactions. Terrified of rejection and ridicule. Terrified that I was doing the wrong thing. Terrified that my voice, the one I'd cultivated through years of writing, wasn't strong enough.

I was terrified that I wasn't a good enough person to go through with this nor that I deserved anything that came from it. My self esteem and confidence were running on empty and had been for a long time. Where once I'd have jumped at the challenge, I now shrank back from it. I preferred to hide away rather than face the possibilities of what I could do. I was no longer a human being. I was a human doing, one who followed the rigid rules of life. I refused to allow myself to feel. Refused to follow the instinct that had been gnawing at my gut for the past year. Refused to acknowledge that I can do whatever I put my mind to.

But there was no way Tom was giving up and, despite my rigid silence, he formulated a new plan.

I could have bought anything from that florist. Lilies, roses, something that was big, beautiful and bold. Instead, I was drawn to a corner where, on a low shelf, sat a pumpkin that had been hollowed out and filled with autumnal flowers. With it cradled in my arms, I paid for it and went back to the hotel.

However, come morning, I couldn't move. I was nauseous and paralysed with fear as the excitement of the previous night slid away. But I was in Berlin for a reason and I knew that I'd regret it forever if I didn't go through with everything I'd come to do.

Sometimes we need the tough love of our friends to make us realise exactly what we can do. We need them to help us see past the barriers we've built around ourselves and make us believe again. Despite the fears we need to be shown that sometimes we can battle through heaven and hell to see it through to the end. I had my ass kicked that weekend and, damn, I needed it. I'm so grateful that someone was there to help me remember who I truly am.

So with the pumpkin and screenplay packaged, I made my way out to the arena.

The journey felt unusually long. Where I normally would have listened to music, I instead sat and watched the city slide by. Every negative thought I'd had about myself over the previous months rolled through my mind. When the venue came into view, I wanted to vomit. When I exited the station, I wretched.

Finally I found myself standing before the arena's black and white facade. It was make or break time. I could turn around and go back to the hotel. Or I could begin to finish bringing down the walls I'd built around myself.

The past few days have been a whirlwind of emotions and, for the first time in a long time, I feel free. I feel more like myself, like my wings are growing back. I feel ready to take on whatever challenges the future holds.

And the pumpkin? It was delivered.

Dave, if you're reading this, I hope the pumpkin made you smile, too. You have my email. Get in touch.

My Itinerary

Saturday 7^th November – Fly from Birmingham to Berlin

Sunday 8^th November – Foo Fighters show at the Mercedes Benz Arena

Monday 9^th November – Fly from Berlin to Dublin and Megadeth show at the 3 Arena

Tuesday 10^th November – Fly from Dublin to Birmingham

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Find the follow up post, Confidence, Determination, Patience, and Self-Belief here.

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EDIT: NOVEMBER 2019

The books that were inspired by this trip, Send In The Congregation: Stories from the Foo Fighters Fans and Send In The Congregation 2, are available from Amazon. Skin O' Our Teeth: Stories from Megadeth's Fans will be released on Black Friday 2019. Follow @RoswellPublishing on Instagram or Rae Gee on Facebook for more updates.