black-bunny

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My dream house

I know I said I wasn�t going to post until things were a little slower around here but�

� I had a very disturbing dream last night.

When I was five, we lived in this old Victorian era house, with 10 foot ceilings, glass door knobs and a winding set of stairs. It was huge, two stories but looked like three, it sat menacingly on its tiny plot of land. I have imagined it sitting on an acre of land, but as the town grew, the municipality slowly carved away the property in front of it, widening the street and side walk. The back of the property would have been left to grow wild, and it did. Eventually, the property beside it was carved away as well, as it often happens with great homes, parceled and sold off.

It now sits, large, imposing. My father, with his bizarre sense of style, covered it in peach vinyl siding, painted the veranda a chocolate brown, and painted the back yard fence and equipment turquoise.

I�ve often thought that the house felt ruined.

I don�t think that house ever wanted us there.

Terrible awful things happened in that house.

Things that, even now, when my mother and I talk about it, we talk in hushed tones.

M father, who doesn�t believe in poltergeists, ghosts, god or anything didn�t like that house. He only ever mentioned it after my parents lost the house and moved to the next town due to my father�s bankruptcy. Again, that was a hushed conversation, only mentioned once, and my father will not talk about it to anyone.

I dreamt about that house last night.

I dreamt that my step-father and his children were living there now. I dreamt that he had restored it to it�s glory. There was an entire section that had been hidden to my family. Servants quarters with tight, narrow staircases. I walked around this house in awe, wondering how come we never saw this before. And I dreamt about the back of the house, the outside back, the stuff of nightmares for so many years. All I could say to Angie was: �be careful Ange, bad things happened here, remember when I told you that I fell from the balcony? I was pushed.�

Of course the things I was worried about in my dream were things that I had dreamed before, not the actual things that happened. My dreams of this house were always filled with specters and voices, darkness and sheer terror.

I dreamt that my step-father had reclaimed the back yard, digging into the earth so that now the house stood on top of a hill. At the bottom of the hill there was a pool and a horse.

Despite the fact the house was now beautiful again, despite the fact that it was filled with things that I love (the horse for me to ride helped a great deal), I didn�t want to stay.

I fell asleep in my dream, with my baby brother beside me, and I woke up thinking: �I have to get out.�

And I tried, I tried, but like so many of the other dreams, I just ended up in one room after the other, in the basement, the kitchen, the master bedroom that had the windows on the floor, looking out onto the roof tops, to the servants quarters, the opulent bathrooms, the dusty closets. I kept saying I had to catch a bus to Dorothy�s.

It never wanted us there.

It is so angry with us.

I�m so sorry house. I�m sorry we brought bad things there. I�m sorry bad things happened. I�m sorry that puppy died, I�m sorry that cat was left on your doorstep to die. I�m sorry for my dad. I�m sorry for the blood, the tears, the vomit, the violence, everything.

I know I was only 5, but someone has to say sorry.

I�m sorry house. I�m so very very sorry.

I love you house, I hope you feel better soon.

9:54 a.m. - 2004-07-08

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