There’s a house that’s been in my dreams off and on for the past year or two. At least I think it has. I’ve never written anything about it down or spoken of it to anyone, so who can say if my memories of dreaming of the house are real or if it was just part of the dream that I’ve been visiting this house off and on for months now. And actually now that I sit to write about it, it’s not even a set house, but a room that keeps moving from house to house.
The first dream I can recall about the room (with the above caveat) involved my wife and I being shown a house by a realtor. It was a large yellow folk Victorian farmhouse and a sweeping wrap-around porch sitting somewhere near the edge of a ravine. Gorgeous house although the stairways were narrow and the wiring needed some work. The master bedroom was up on the third floor.
And on the left-hand side of the room were four steps leading up to a small door set about halfway up the wall. Beyond the little door were stairs leading into an unfinished attic room with a high peaked ceiling (although it came down quite steeply and it was difficult to stand up fully along the sides of the room) and a twin bed there in the middle. And that attic room was haunted.
By this I don’t mean I saw a ghost in there or things started flying around or whatnot. But it felt haunted. I knew it was haunted. That attic room was emotionally terrifying without any evidence as to why it should be.
I don’t recall the rest of the dream other than the bone numbing terror I felt standing at the top of the steps. But some time later I saw the room again. This time it was accessed from the second floor bedroom of a ranch. I remember the layout of this house very well and I think this particular version may have come back a few times. I was visiting a friend there, and I remembered that I’d looked at the house before but decided not to buy it. The living room was on the right as you entered, kitchen around back with a door leading out into the back yard. If you turned to the left when you came in the front door you came to the stairs leading up to the second floor where there were two bedrooms. And in one of them that little door up the half flight of steps. This time I didn’t (couldn’t) go up. I knew what was there.
And several other times that I think I remember. Each time the house itself was slightly different, each time there was the thought that I had seen the house before and thought about buying it, and each time that little door and the steps and the attic with the neatly made bed. And the haunting.
That particular two story ranch configuration of the house, or something similar, returned last night. Again a friend was living there and I knew I’d looked into buying the house before she did. Last night’s was the first time I recall the house’s inhabitant being aware of the attic room or the haunting. My friend was similarly terrified by the attic bedroom. She tried to tell herself the sounds she heard up there were only squirrels and had hired an exterminator, but there were of course no squirrels. And, she admitted, there had not even been any noises. If there were, if she’d had something concrete to be afraid of, it would maybe make it a little better.
Of course, last night I also dreamt that Adam West Batman was incognito and on the run in Imperial China because a corrupt magistrate had declared him a criminal, so it may not be worth analyzing my dreams too deeply.