4/1/11| I
appeared in a pitch-black room, but I knew where I was; the hallway that had
been etched in my brain from years ago emerged before me. Lace curtains hung on the backdoor at the end
of the corridor. Wind blew cold gusts
threw my hair and I could have sworn I heard my name whispered. At the end of the hall was a small bathroom,
its old wooden door lolled open in the dark.
I entered and saw it was empty and glowed eerily from the moon through
the small window. The medicine cabinet’s
façade was a mirror; I looked at my reflection for a moment. Behind me was a yellowed mildew-ridden shower
curtain. My heart raced as a small hand
reached out towards me from behind the plastic veil. I froze with fear and did not want to look
inside, although I knew what dwelled there.
It was the little girl who once lived here before me, it was her who visited
me in my dreams and continued to haunt me.
The
wind blew wildly from the bathroom into the hall when a tall Native American
man towered over me. He had long, black
hair down to his shoulders; the rest of his body was a blur, somewhat like
smoke. I backed out of the bathroom, my
heart pounded and my mind stirred. The
lace curtains whipped violently in the wind when out burst a large white
owl. It thrust itself towards me and I
bolted in the other direction not knowing where to go. I scrambled to the room that used to be mine a
long time ago; this felt safe to me. The
window overlooking the front yard glowed and pulled me in. To my surprise sat a beautiful sapphire blue and
gold bird with long tail feathers, perched on a circular gilded swing above a
garden of wildflowers. From my bedroom
door echoed “you left us… why…why?” The
images in my dream dissipated as I woke from this horrible nightmare.
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 | I have that print hanging in my room, love it. | -- Casey , 4/6/11
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3/24/11 | | My eyes open to a brilliant, powder blue sky. Radiant green grass grows wild in the vast
meadow where I stand. In front of me, cracked
gray marble stairs lead up to a crumbled balcony that reaches over the Weeping
Willow trees surrounding the relic. As I
walk up the steps, moss slides between my toes.
Nearly at the top, remnants of the balcony overlook cotton-ball clouds, which
drift sleepily by. Amid the clouds, white
wooden chairs come into view. The legs appear
to be unusually stick-like, trailing miles below. They sway from side to side, their creaks
sound like groans as they move in the wind.
The ground below becomes obscure as I look down; I could see the chairs’
long legs reaching towards the ground into nothingness.
A woman’s face appeared through one of the passing clouds. Her is hair the color of golden wheat and she
has honey eyes. Her body is transparent
like the passing clouds as she sits in a daze on one of the spindly chairs. She sways to and fro, like a ragdoll in a
rocking chair. Suddenly, every chair
appears to have a woman upon them. Mimicking daisies in a meadow, bowing back
and forth to the rhythm of the wind.
Image: Rene Magritte, La folie des grandeurs II ( Megalomania), 1948 |
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3/23/11 | Introduction
Over ten years ago I lived in a house that had strange occurrences. Since I moved, I have had nightmares linked to the events and apparitions I experienced. Presently, I am in the process of writing a book of fiction based on the true events that took place the years spent at this home. Any nightmares I have will be written in a daily blog as well as surreal fantastical dreams that need to be shared! PLease enjoy, any feedback would be delightful.
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