“What is belief? After all, regardless of if someone believes in me, that don’t suddenly make me disappear. Kids believe in Santy Clause, but it don’t make him a jolly magical fat man. Though technically speakin’ he did exist. Belief in th’ supernatural ain’t gonna make it any more real, or any more fake. You can close ya ears and cover ya eyes all ya want, but if a ghost is knockin’ at ya chamber door it’s comin’ in regardless’a ya willpower. An’ aliens are gonna probe ya even if you chant that it aint’ real, right? So what’s the harm in belief? What’s the harm in acceptin’ that things are more than they seem, right? That there’s an alternate plane of existence on which supernatural entities can flit through life—our life—an’ emerge momentarily in our own spectral plane? Who’s t’say we don’t go t’Heaven when we die? Or Hell? Or neither? Maybe we go to god damn Jupiter, yeah? Maybe we ascend t’the heavens an’ the stars an’ become another sun! Wouldn’t that be excitin’? Spontaneously combustin’ atoms formin’ atoms formin’ atoms formin’ life, becomin’ atoms spontaneously combustin’ t’form more. Again and again and again and again the cycle goes, like a chemical and astronomical form of reincarnation until we reach Nirvana in th’form of nothingness. What a terrifyin’ thought.”
