I went out for Mexican at El Dorado with the dance team. They asked me where I'd been the past few weeks, and I felt not a little bit guilty about taking some time off. Some people's food came extremely fast, but others (like me) had to wait. I, along with a few other dancers, decided to take a stroll along the street. At this point, I realized that we were in a New England coastal town getting ready for a competition in the morning. We hadn't yet found a place to stay for the night, and we were reduced to going door-to-door, asking residents to put us up.
The neighborhood was situated along the banks of a wide estuary. When standing on the bank, I could barely make out the lights of the city winking on the far shore. The houses were built on the shores. Most of the houses were very eccentric, with bizarre gardens in varying states of decrepitude. This dream was intense because feelings of bewilderment and a sort of derelict, fascinating sorrow pervaded it. It wasn't an oppressive feeling, but it was creepy.
We came upon an older house in a state of bad disrepair. It looked to be abandoned, so I decided to enter and explore it. Others on the team thought it was a bad idea, but I was feeling reckless and tired - and perhaps a little bit self-destructive. I went inside.
I found myself in a large, clean room, devoid of furniture but with walls covered in pictures. Some were very old, but others looked like they were taken within the past decade or so. Somebody flipped a switch, and the overhead light began to shine. The rest of the dance team members were absolutely positive that the house was abandoned, and gleefully started unrolling their sleeping bags on the floor. I had a strange feeling.
This huge, white room sort of tapered to a door on the far end - this door was closed, and the team avoided it. I walked over to it to begin a more thorough exploration, but the others told me to leave it be, to just stay in this room. I ignored them and opened the door anyway. There was a hall beyond the door, stretching from my right to my left. The house was considerably more damaged beyond the front room; the wood floors were damp and rotting in places, the walls were cracked and peeling, the light fixtures yellowing... I walked to my right and found a tiny door to my right - it was cracked open and a dim light was shining into the shadowed hallway, so I looked inside.
There was an unfamiliar yet Christian altar in this room, with candles burning in tall brass sconces. It was beautiful and I didn't want to disturb it. By this time, curiosity had overcome the dance team, and others peeked over my shoulder. A couple of them decided to go inside the altar room, but I was miffed and sort of offended, so I went back to the hall and started walking down the left side. I could see doors on both sides, but the hall extended back into deep shadow and I couldn't see its far end.
I was overcome by that strange feeling. I opened another door and found myself looking out into a gloomy short staircase, with watery evening light beyond... I descended a few steps and looked into kitchen/sunroom - but the waters of the estuary had begun to consume the house. All of the windows were broken or cracked, and a sad, hungry, oily night wind trickled through into the rotting room. As the waves broke on the shore, which must have been underneath the center of the house, the entire structure shifted and groaned horribly. A feeling of terrible, desolate presence overcame me and I turned around to find my friends - but there was a young man standing behind me in my path.
He was tall with dark hair and a face similar to Steven's - but his pale eyes lacked serenity and his brows were straight and intense and very black. He was wearing dark clothing. I greeted him warily, and he returned my greeting. We started to talk about the house; I asked him if he lived here (yes) and whether we were welcome to stay in the front room (yes) and who owned the house (it was his grandmother's house) and why was there an altar in that other room (::shrug:: it was his grandmother's room). As we spoke, his eyes searched my face and his expression became increasingly sad and human.
I rambled on, eager to make excuses and return to my friends, but as I turned to leave, he took my elbow and told me that I had to stay here with him. I asked him what he meant, and he amended his words and offered to give me a tour of the rest of the house. I was already feeling pretty freaked out at this point by him and the atmosphere in the room, but I figured it couldn't hurt. I followed up the moaning stairs and back into the hall. He went down the long side that ended in shadow and opened another room for me. He gestured that I should go in, and I did, and found myself in quite a nice bedroom with a brass bed and brocade wallpaper. He invited me to stay in this room, if I wanted. The room felt very... good? Benign? Benevolent? I wanted to sleep there. I turned around, and he was gone.
I went back to the front room to get my things, and most of the team was already asleep. I brought my bag back into the bedroom and got in bed, but I couldn't sleep. I kept thinking about the ocean, which was lapping at the foundations of the house, and I could feel the structure shifting and sinking ever deeper into the baleful mud. The house was a corpse.
Sometime in the night, I decided to get up. I couldn't stand being alone anymore in this place, so I got my flashlight from my bag and went into the hall. But, the door to the front room was gone! I began to get worried - but I was comforted by the sight of the tiny door and the faithful candles shining in the room beyond. I decided to look for another way out.
I walked down the hall a little ways, and opened other doors. There were other bedrooms and attics and closets and sinister hallways. When I opened the doors to these hallways, I could feel stale air sighing out and I just knew that the soulless water was waiting to swallow me.
Finally, I reached the end of the hall. There was one more door left. I opened it, and found another staircase, leading down. I could hear the perverse lapping of the water, but the reckless feeling was back - I descended the stairs. At the bottom was a tiny room with a wooden floor, and single naked lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. There was an old toilet, and the water in its bowl raised and lowered with the waves. In the far corner of the room, the floor had rotten and fallen out. I ventured over and shone the beam of my flashlight into the void.
The water was only a few feet below me. As I swept my beam around, I saw a something submerged far below.
It was a mostly-decomposed human hand, reaching up - all I could see was this hand, and a little ways below it, only a slight indication of the dark orifices of a skull, staring up. Little streamers of flesh flapped in the gentle current.
I recoiled! I stumbled backwards and straight into the chest of the mystery man (ghost!), who restrained me in an aggressive embrace. I fought to break free, but he was too strong. He spun me around and shook me so hard I could barely keep my head up. His face was an inch from mine, and he said,
"Can you IMAGINE being forced to stay here, in this place? Don't even fucking try. Leave. Don't leave. I'll kill you if you leave. I'll kill you if you stay. I'd never kill you. Fuck, I'd never give you this. This water..." He sobbed and freed me. I stumbled and began to back up the stairs, keeping his figure in the beam of my flashlight, but he only stood there and looked at me.
"Kill me again. KILL ME AGAIN!" he shouted. I ran!
Then I woke up. I could still hear the echoes of his command.
The neighborhood was situated along the banks of a wide estuary. When standing on the bank, I could barely make out the lights of the city winking on the far shore. The houses were built on the shores. Most of the houses were very eccentric, with bizarre gardens in varying states of decrepitude. This dream was intense because feelings of bewilderment and a sort of derelict, fascinating sorrow pervaded it. It wasn't an oppressive feeling, but it was creepy.
We came upon an older house in a state of bad disrepair. It looked to be abandoned, so I decided to enter and explore it. Others on the team thought it was a bad idea, but I was feeling reckless and tired - and perhaps a little bit self-destructive. I went inside.
I found myself in a large, clean room, devoid of furniture but with walls covered in pictures. Some were very old, but others looked like they were taken within the past decade or so. Somebody flipped a switch, and the overhead light began to shine. The rest of the dance team members were absolutely positive that the house was abandoned, and gleefully started unrolling their sleeping bags on the floor. I had a strange feeling.
This huge, white room sort of tapered to a door on the far end - this door was closed, and the team avoided it. I walked over to it to begin a more thorough exploration, but the others told me to leave it be, to just stay in this room. I ignored them and opened the door anyway. There was a hall beyond the door, stretching from my right to my left. The house was considerably more damaged beyond the front room; the wood floors were damp and rotting in places, the walls were cracked and peeling, the light fixtures yellowing... I walked to my right and found a tiny door to my right - it was cracked open and a dim light was shining into the shadowed hallway, so I looked inside.
There was an unfamiliar yet Christian altar in this room, with candles burning in tall brass sconces. It was beautiful and I didn't want to disturb it. By this time, curiosity had overcome the dance team, and others peeked over my shoulder. A couple of them decided to go inside the altar room, but I was miffed and sort of offended, so I went back to the hall and started walking down the left side. I could see doors on both sides, but the hall extended back into deep shadow and I couldn't see its far end.
I was overcome by that strange feeling. I opened another door and found myself looking out into a gloomy short staircase, with watery evening light beyond... I descended a few steps and looked into kitchen/sunroom - but the waters of the estuary had begun to consume the house. All of the windows were broken or cracked, and a sad, hungry, oily night wind trickled through into the rotting room. As the waves broke on the shore, which must have been underneath the center of the house, the entire structure shifted and groaned horribly. A feeling of terrible, desolate presence overcame me and I turned around to find my friends - but there was a young man standing behind me in my path.
He was tall with dark hair and a face similar to Steven's - but his pale eyes lacked serenity and his brows were straight and intense and very black. He was wearing dark clothing. I greeted him warily, and he returned my greeting. We started to talk about the house; I asked him if he lived here (yes) and whether we were welcome to stay in the front room (yes) and who owned the house (it was his grandmother's house) and why was there an altar in that other room (::shrug:: it was his grandmother's room). As we spoke, his eyes searched my face and his expression became increasingly sad and human.
I rambled on, eager to make excuses and return to my friends, but as I turned to leave, he took my elbow and told me that I had to stay here with him. I asked him what he meant, and he amended his words and offered to give me a tour of the rest of the house. I was already feeling pretty freaked out at this point by him and the atmosphere in the room, but I figured it couldn't hurt. I followed up the moaning stairs and back into the hall. He went down the long side that ended in shadow and opened another room for me. He gestured that I should go in, and I did, and found myself in quite a nice bedroom with a brass bed and brocade wallpaper. He invited me to stay in this room, if I wanted. The room felt very... good? Benign? Benevolent? I wanted to sleep there. I turned around, and he was gone.
I went back to the front room to get my things, and most of the team was already asleep. I brought my bag back into the bedroom and got in bed, but I couldn't sleep. I kept thinking about the ocean, which was lapping at the foundations of the house, and I could feel the structure shifting and sinking ever deeper into the baleful mud. The house was a corpse.
Sometime in the night, I decided to get up. I couldn't stand being alone anymore in this place, so I got my flashlight from my bag and went into the hall. But, the door to the front room was gone! I began to get worried - but I was comforted by the sight of the tiny door and the faithful candles shining in the room beyond. I decided to look for another way out.
I walked down the hall a little ways, and opened other doors. There were other bedrooms and attics and closets and sinister hallways. When I opened the doors to these hallways, I could feel stale air sighing out and I just knew that the soulless water was waiting to swallow me.
Finally, I reached the end of the hall. There was one more door left. I opened it, and found another staircase, leading down. I could hear the perverse lapping of the water, but the reckless feeling was back - I descended the stairs. At the bottom was a tiny room with a wooden floor, and single naked lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. There was an old toilet, and the water in its bowl raised and lowered with the waves. In the far corner of the room, the floor had rotten and fallen out. I ventured over and shone the beam of my flashlight into the void.
The water was only a few feet below me. As I swept my beam around, I saw a something submerged far below.
It was a mostly-decomposed human hand, reaching up - all I could see was this hand, and a little ways below it, only a slight indication of the dark orifices of a skull, staring up. Little streamers of flesh flapped in the gentle current.
I recoiled! I stumbled backwards and straight into the chest of the mystery man (ghost!), who restrained me in an aggressive embrace. I fought to break free, but he was too strong. He spun me around and shook me so hard I could barely keep my head up. His face was an inch from mine, and he said,
"Can you IMAGINE being forced to stay here, in this place? Don't even fucking try. Leave. Don't leave. I'll kill you if you leave. I'll kill you if you stay. I'd never kill you. Fuck, I'd never give you this. This water..." He sobbed and freed me. I stumbled and began to back up the stairs, keeping his figure in the beam of my flashlight, but he only stood there and looked at me.
"Kill me again. KILL ME AGAIN!" he shouted. I ran!
Then I woke up. I could still hear the echoes of his command.
2 comments:
Oh, that was beautiful, so Poe-esque...
-rh
(and well written, of course)
Had just had a dream in which I was building a secret escape tunnel out of pine straw from a nature trail in order to get to the grocery store that's a recurring setting in my dreams.
Post a Comment