Until this moment I had no idea that my house has been desperately missing a skeleton rocking chair. Modeled after a mid 19th century Russian chair, these beautiful, elaborately hand-carved rockers were made in the US in the 20th century, most likely during the 1930s. With an estimated auction value of $2,500 to $3,5oo, this isn’t the most affordable seating one could choose, but who can put a price on the opportunity to rest one’s weary bones by literally sitting on death’s lap?
These stunning chairs remind me of a repeating nightmare I had as a child: I was aboard a ship out on the open ocean in a terrible storm. The ship had no railings and I couldn’t go below deck. The only available seats were numerous rocking chairs (I wasn’t allowed to sit on the deck itself), but as soon as anyone sat upon one of them, the rocker would pitch that person overboard into the dark, turbulent water. Try as I might, eventually I grew so weary of wandering the deck that I had no choice but to sit on one of the rocking chairs, from which I was summarily tossed into the sea.
As I sank down into the water, which was surprisingly calm beneath its raging surface, I was strangely aware yet unconcerned about not being able to breathe and instead focused on the appearance of colossal rocking chairs floating before me. They ranged in size from ten to thirty feet tall. Some were very simple and plain, others were ornate. Though they appeared unoccupied, each slowly rocked back and forth.
As I studied them I suddenly understood that each of these enormous chairs belonged to the ghost of a ship’s captain who’d died at sea. I always woke up shortly after this revelation, wishing I could’ve spoken with the maritime ghosts. Now I feel as though real-life has improved on the rocking chairs from my dreams.