The Dream
I sleep with six blankets on so sometimes I get overheated. That’s what happened at 3:30 this morning. Instead of throwing off the blankets like any logical person would do, I opted to open my window a crack and let the cold air in. What I didn’t realize at the time was that, in opening my window, I had broke the seal on my room. It’s been a very long time since I’ve put a protective seal up so I all but forgot it was there in the first place.
Anyway, I let something in. It’s negatively charged, likes and lives in darkness and it’s rather weak. I know about the last factor because it likes when I’m asleep. When I’m unconscious it has more control. That and when I woke up, it had already started to fade away. But in the time that I was sleeping, it caused me to have a creepy dream.
It was a long dream, in three parts and I remember a lot of detail. The dream was in color but everything was a shade of off-white or another monochrome color. It was a suburban area with huge Victorian houses lined along the roads. There were hedges and grass and I knew they should have been green, but all I could see them as in the dream was grey.
I was seven or eight years old with a group of about 30 other kids and two adults as chaperones. We were on a field trip to one of the 4 story white relics. The paint was starting to flake off the house we chose to visit. We stumbled through the door, inside and up the first flight of stairs in a pell-mell manner like little kids do. Once we got to the landing and turned the corner, kids started disappearing. Not poof-like but from the feet up. They slowly started doing invisible as the moved forward up the stairs but the kids still kept walking towards it like it was no big deal.
A cute little asian boy, a Pacific Islander, stood next to me. Spiky gelled hair. He was wearing something that looked like a black or dark blue suit. We talked between ourselves about how some people started disappearing farther up the stair well than others did. We saw all of this going on but still kept walking towards it. Once he started to disappear I turned and ran because I realized that I didn’t know if I was moving towards the 20ft wide thing that erased people or if it was moving towards me.
Filled with fear and panic I bolted down the stairs. I grabbed one of the women by the arm and yelled something about everyone disappearing. She looked terror-stricken but there was a glimpse of recognition in her panicky eyes. We ran out the door, to the right two houses away and across the street to another white house that was a little smaller and with a little less chipped paint than the first one I had been in. The air here didn’t feel as evil as it was in the first house either. I was the only child left.
The dream cut to ten years later.
After the incident I moved to the not-so-evil manor I guess and I worked as the child-eating one. I don’t know if it was a summer job or a full time because at the time the dream cut back in, it was summer time.
My bedroom this past 10 years was on the second or third floor so I had obviously been on upper floors of the house. (The first floor of the house consisted of a small kitchen and a living room.)
I ‘walked’ (because it was a dream this action was more like a camera cutting in while I was standing in a certain place) from an area with the stairs on my right and the front door at my back to the kitchen. I’m not sure if I had come from outside of from upstairs but the direction I took was that heading toward the chair in the corner across from the kitchen doorway. I had a small duffel bag in hand, half closed and half full of my clothes. As in many of my dreams, I was wearing only my favorite pair of faded blue jeans and my wife-beater.
Two ladies in their late-fifties or early 60s with curly white hair were standing around by the chair. I knew one to be my employer from the satanic house. Both women were of pleasant disposition but rather naïve of how cynical and stubborn I could be.
My employer kept trying to convince me to go back upstairs in my house to get some more of my things. It wasn’t something she was consciously aware of but she kept saying things along the lines of, “Why don’t you take that [something upstairs] with you?” I was adamantly against ever walking up the stairs of a Victorian house again.
At some point I wandered into the kitchen. The floor was made out of 6x6 inch squared tiles checkered black and white. It looked more like a restaurant with all its appliances being stainless steel than the cocking area found in a home. Everything that was in my line of dream sight in that kitchen (which consisted of a huge double basin sink, an industrial dishwasher, and some counter space) was lined up against the walls. I washed my hands in the sink mindlessly.
There was a third women, a wee bit younger and less like an old hen than the others. She had been standing in the doorway between the chair and the kitchen and moved into the room with me. She didn’t speak a word but I knew instantly, even with the ten-year jump through time, that this was the woman who had taken me to this house years ago. And I also knew that she was more of a listener.
I dried my hands, walked back into the other room and rummaged through the duffel bag that I had set on the chair. My employer again commented. “You forgot your [some object],” and I responded with, “That’s alright,” but still she persisted about how I should “…just go upstairs and get it. No big deal,” until I almost yelled the word, “NO,” at her.
Cut to part three: a town with no music.