Tag Archives: creepy houses

Nightmare #307 – Trapped in Reality TV

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(Female, 50′s) I had slept in because it was the weekend and I remember that when I woke up I had a horrible headache likely because my brain was caffeine starved.

I was in one of those surprise remodel TV shows. It seems like my whole family had gotten together to redo our kitchen. My husband and I have been remodeling the kitchen bit by bit improving it whenever possible for several years now. So the buildup to the big reveal comes… and the remodeled kitchen is just horrible.

It was worse than horrible; it’s a collection of everything dreadful that we’d ever gotten rid of dating back from just about every kitchen throughout our marriage. The fridge is this old white model — we finally upgraded to one with a nice stainless steel front. The cupboard were from our old condo. And they had the door handles right in the middle of the doors, which is a silly place for handles. There were dishes out on open air shelves which I hate because they just collect dust. It was horrible.

And everyone was standing around looking so pleased with themselves for what they accomplished. They handed me a bottle of wine and I was so upset I smashed it against the table.

And I woke up!

Nightmare #301 – Dear Dead Dad

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(Male, 50′s) I dreamt about my dad last night. He’s been dead for over twenty years. I was cleaning in his basement which was a mess when he died. Crap everywhere. All sorts of stuff. Half finished projects, materials to do other jobs around the house, papers spilling out of filing cabinets and a far amount of crap I had no idea what the hell it was. By the way, this is pretty true to what happened when he died. His basement work area was a mess and it took me an awfully long time to clean it up and get the house sold. But I suppose if anyone dies unexpectedly there’s going to be a lot of unfinished business. In the dream I moved a piece of furniture in the basement and I found a doorway in the floor. I never knew THAT was there, I remember thinking in the dream. It was just big enough for me to crawl through. There was another basement underneath the first one. It was a mess too, though just a bit more organized perhaps. Maybe like an over stocked thrift store.

But the weirdest thing was that my dad was there. He was the same age as he was when he died. He was wearing a white t-shirt and work pants. He’d been down there the whole time, I figured. It would take some getting used to, him being alive again. I’d have to introduce him to folks. We didn’t exactly have a bad relationship but we didn’t always get along. I don’t think it was his fault or my fault. We just didn’t get along as well as we could have. He was kind of surprised to see me and not exactly happy either. I was interrupting. I didn’t really want to tell him I’d been clearing out his workshop in the upper basement but he figured out anyway. He was more than irritated. He was angry about what had happened since he died, about how I’d tried to clear his stuff out of the basement.

Next thing I know, he’s got my brother in a death hold, like he’s trying to kill him. A couple things strange with this picture. My old man was NEVER violent. He was always calm and gentle. Very peaceful, really. A real gentleman. But the guy in my dream was murderous and enraged. He was physically destroying my brother, wrestling with him, battering him. And the other strange thing is that I don’t have a brother. Never did. I knew I had to save this guy, this “brother,” so I looked around for something I could use. I found a long bread knife and a sledge hammer. And I hit my dad with the hammer. Only I don’t hit him with the head of the hammer. I use the handle of the hammer which is hardly effective.

Then things get really weird. I tell my dad to relax and imagine all the pieces of paper that were written about him during his entire life. Every document, every record, every report card, every bill, every bank statement, every love letter. Then add to that pile every piece of paper he read or even looked at. Every magazine, every book, every porno picture, every postcard. It would be a huge pile but it still would be a finite amount. Then I told him to imagine selecting out only the most important pages, the ones that really “got” him, whether they were good or bad. Imagine someone who loved him saved all the pages that described him in a favorable light, but that that collection of pages got lost. All that remained was the collection of pages that described his unfavorable characteristics. I told him not to worry. No one who found that other collection of pages, those bad descriptions, no one who found those pages would ever think that they fully described him. They’d know there were good things that weren’t mentioned.

Then I woke up. Strangest thing.

Nightmare #298 – House, Plans and Zombie

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(Male, 50′s) Extremely strange and disturbing dream that only incidentally had a zombie in it. I guess that’s enough to make it a nightmare, right?

I was in this house which at times was the house where I live now and at times was the house where I grew up, even though it really didn’t resemble either of those actual houses very much. There was a big apple tree in the back yard.

And there was Richard Pryor. He was just hanging out. He might have been a relative or he might have been just a friend but he was just there and we were all acting like it was no big thing. I haven’t thought of Richard Pryor for years by the way though I used to think he was pretty funny. He looked good, like he did back in the 70′s before all the freebasing coke stories came out. So there was me, Richard Pryor, the girl who later became my wife and a couple other people.

We were working on plans to remodel the house. We all were inside standing around the dining room table and then one of us would make a change to the set of plans, then we’d all walk out side to see what that would look like on the house. It was like as soon as we made a decision, it actually changed the house.

But we got mixed up a little. Some of us were changing the plans while others were checking the results, so I passed people coming back in as I was going out. And one time when I passed Richard Pryor, he wasn’t looking very good. His hair had changed to white and his skin was ashy grey. He was dead alright but he was still walking around. No one else seemed to realize it yet, and Richard Pryor didn’t even realize that he was a zombie yet so I still had some time before things got ugly.

But the only weapon I had was a hammer. I got it in my hand and I came up behind Richard Pryor. I knew that the only way to kill a zombie was to take its head completely off – at least that’s what I “knew” in my dream. So I was preparing to hammer at the back of his spine, over and over until his head fell off. It was going to be awful. I felt sick to my stomach thinking about all the gore and blood. When I raised the hammer behind my head, I woke up.

Nightmare #294 – Again, bloodier

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(Female, 40′s) This nightmare was obviously modeled on *Groundhog Day* or *Run Lola Run*, but scarier and bloodier.

I was sitting in a room with my husband and 4 other people. The other people were not real people from my life, just dream characters. We were sitting and talking at a round dining room table. Then there was a knock on the door. One of the men stood up and answered the door. A tall man dressed in a black officer’s uniform came in the room holding a gun and shot him dead, immediately, for no reason we could see. Then the man with the gun herded us out of the room and down the hallway, where there were more soldiers. A woman from our group tried to run away, and she was shot and so was another man. There was a short old man who started laughing then and said to the officer, “See, I told you it would work!” I realized he was on their side. “We don’t need you any more,” said the officer as he pulled the trigger and shot the old man. They led my husband and I out into the forest, and I knew any minute we were both going to die.

Then I was back at the first scene of the dream again, everyone alive and sitting at the table talking. I looked around, worried and nervous, but the other people in the room continued their conversation. I said, “Something terrible is going to happen.” “Why would you say that?” my husband asked. Everyone looked at me, curious. Then I realized that I was the only one of the group who knew what was going to happen next. “Someone is going to knock on the door. Don’t answer it!” But when we heard the knock on the door, the man stood up and answered it anyway– just like before. And was shot by the officer. And the action went on.

Then we were back at the first scene again. This time I knew I had to be more assertive. “If you don’t do what I say, everyone will be dead in 10 minutes.” I pointed at one of the men. “Go lock the door. Don’t let anyone in!” “She’s crazy,” said the old man. “Don’t listen to her!” I told my husband and another guy to hold him down. There was a knock at the door, and the old man kept shouting, “They are in here! They locked the door!” Shots were fired at the door knob and the officer strode into the room…

Then the first scene again. I stood up. I said to my husband, “He’s a spy! Knock him out!” pointing at the old man. I don’t know why, but he believed me. He stood up and grabbed a chair and hit the old man over the head, knocking him out. “Turn off the lights and hide!” But still the knock and the shots and the man with the gun…

The first scene over again. But this time I pointed to the knocked out old man and said to my husband, “Kill him now.” My husband and another man beat in the old man’s head with chair legs. Thud, thud, crunch, crunch. “Everyone grab a chair leg. Arm yourselves. Smash the light bulb. They will be here any minute.” We waited in the dark for them, armed and ready.

One of these times we were going to get it right and survive.

Blog – Home-Repair “Nightmare” and the Secret Tenant

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To be honest, very little is nightmarish about the repairs we’re making to the bathroom. The buddy of mine who’s helping is scary efficient and competent, though he occasionally sings along with the radio which I’m attributing to that irresistable urge to sing while in the proximity of a shower.

The real horror show was the condition of the place before we started: spongy floor, tiles that stuck to your feet (i.e. not to the subfloor) and hidden terrors like load bearing walls with large gaps in the joists.

And one secret tenant.

We found a mummified rodent encased in the wall. It’s clearly not the remains of Poe’s Black Cat, which is good, I suppose for several reasons, one of which is that I rather like cats. I really can’t convince myself that it’s a rat – though again that would pump up the goth factor of the Ye Old Homestead a bit. It was, in fact, a squirrel – a kind of creature I have no spare love for – and in its current condition, it’s cool as hell. See for yourself:

So the stinger to this tale is what my daughter said when we broke the news to her.

Me: “Eric found something in the walls”

Grown daughter: “Was it a dead baby?”

It’s the chance exchange like this that reminds me she’s my kin, that there was no mix-up at the hospital, no abandoned basket on the doorstep. Where my first thought was a dead rat, like a nice and proper piece of Nosferatu set dressing, Dear Daughter’s imagination shot straight to an essential gothic plot device: a buried child.

Nightmare #230 – Shot AGAIN

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(Male, 40′s) Twice this week, I’ve had dreams that involved being shot or nearly shot with a handgun. I have woken up with my heart just pounding. The second one wasn’t very remarkable apart from getting shot – I should probably mention that I don’t own a handgun and I’ve never been shot, nor is it one of my great fears.

However.

“…I get him to put the knife down…”

In the first nightmare, I am visiting my grandmother’s house, a grandmother who’s been dead for decades now. Her house was never in a great part of town and it’s only gotten worse, like far worse over time. I am responsible for cleaning out her stuff, all her furniture and belongings. When I go to the door my daughter greets me and I’m a little shocked that she’s there and not at college. I ask her if she’s alone in the house and she says no. And then I ask if she’s safe. She shakes her head like she’s answering a different question, “Oh Daddy, it’s not like that at all.” I ask her to go and wait outside with her mom in the car. I enter the house and the first thing I notice is that there is a huge whole in one wall like someone has driven a car into it. And there’s a man with a knife. I ask him if he’s OK. I offer to get him some food. I get him to put the knife down. I explain that I’ve got to get rid of the stuff in the house. And he starts acting as if it all belongs to him simply because he’s in the house. I simply reach over and take the knife from where he’s set it down and I throw it behind me because in a fair fight I’m pretty sure I could take this guy. “No, you don’t own any of this stuff and you better get moving before I call the cops.” He says he’s got a gun in his pocket, which I think is pretty unlikely but I don’t want to take the chance so I jump him. We wrestle. He’s trying to get his hand in his pocket. I keep hitting him, trying to knock him out. All of a sudden a shot is fired. I don’t hear it as much as I feel it shooting straight through my heart. It felt more like I was getting an electric shock. I woke up with my heart simply racing, pounding hard like I actually had been in a fight.

Nightmare # 200 – Sewers

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(Female, 30′s) This dream probably reveals too much about the things that disturb and scare ME!

In my dream, I was scrubbing a shiny white toilet with a cheap little brush, a flimsy stick with a blue and white ball of netting on the end. (A dream about cleaning a toilet– how totally WEIRD is that??) As I finished and tapped the brush on the edge of the bowl, I flushed at the same time– and then the cheap little brush came apart, and the cleaning part started to get sucked down the drain! I didn’t want the toilet to get clogged, but I didn’t really want to stick my hand in the water either.

I worried about deadly fumes– I didn’t smell anything but that didn’t mean it wasn’t dangerous to my health.

Then I remembered that we had access to something like the water exit chamber (??) of the house, so I could get the broken brush ball out of there! I walked into a utility room where there was a small white door with a strong spring hinge that opened to a sort of chamber where all the drains in the house emptied. (I have no idea where this image came from! Completely imaginary view of plumbing!) The chamber was stark white, very clean and with a big cone-shaped impression in the bottom where all of the waste water drained. It was so clean and smooth and shiny in there. I could see the blue cleaning ball a little way inside, just out of reach. So I got a broom handle and tried to hold the spring door open with one hand while reaching for the ball with the stick with the other hand. I worried about deadly fumes– I didn’t smell anything but that didn’t mean it wasn’t dangerous to my health.

As I leaned in further, I could see the edge of a storage box, just around a corner. How the heck did that get in here? Did someone accidentally flush that down the toilet? As I was reaching and looking, I was slowly climbing inside that chamber. I crawled in far enough to see around the corner, where I found a stack of 6 or 8 storage boxes. We must have put them in here; what had we been thinking? Were we that desperate for storage space?!? I was getting a little panicky at this point, but I looked up and noticed that the ceiling opened to the sky. I could stand up in one spot, and I could put my head and shoulders through the opening. It was sunny and bright outside, and I drew a deep breath of fresh air and felt an enormous relief. Then I started to worry about how I was going to get out of there!

Nightmare #189 – Falling

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(Male, 40′s) Strange dream, almost like it was someone else’s dream or a dream that was mine when I was much younger. Or something. I woke up from it at 3:00 in the morning and had absolutely no interest in going back to sleep afterward.

We were in my Grandmother’s house which didn’t belong to my Grandmother anymore, which is probably obvious because she’s dead. But the family continued to rent the house from the Man who owned it now. He was doing all sorts of really drastic renovations on the place. Like the back room was now going to be the kitchen and he had put in this oddly shaped kitchen island in there. I was trying to convince someone that this was actually a good thing, that it would come in handy for when we entertained. But in the dream, I knew that we’d never entertain here, that we’d never invite anyone over here.

And then the Man showed us the new ceiling he was putting onto this huge addition. Honestly the addition was larger than a basketball court and easily as tall. We were walking along the drop ceiling above it. It was constructed of long metal slats that bowed under our weight as we walked with large piece of corrugated cardboard in between. There was some trick to walking up there, to making yourself not weigh your normal weight. Like positive thoughts or something would make you float or something. The other people had no problem with this but I kept having doubts about whether this whole thing would work. My foot got caught between the slats and the cardboard and my foot slipped between. My leg was dangling into the vast cavernous basketball court beneath. It was brightly lit up as if for a game. I knew it was just an instant before my whole body slipped through. My mom started moving closer to me to try to save me. She was younger, much younger, probably 40 years younger than she is now. And I was younger too, just a child. I was swooning with vertigo but I knew that if I pulled that piece of cardboard out with me, it would de-stabilize a whole area of the ceiling. I told mom to back up, to get away from me. Just then the cardboard gave out and started falling. I held onto the edges of the cardboard like a magic carpet. It just plummeted down and down. I fell much further than I could have ever imagined, much farther than the floor. I was hopeful that I would survive the fall but the trouble was I never landed. Just a constant never ending fall. I was dizzy and nauseous and afraid.

Nightmare #184 – The Bloody Drain

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(Male, 30′s) Once I thought about this nightmare, it became rather obvious to me where it was coming from. My mother is undergoing chemotherapy right now and also for as long as I’ve known her, my mom has also tinted her hair with red hair dye. Still, that’s not exactly the same as what I dreamed which was highly disturbing.

I was getting ready to take a shower but the drain in the bathtub was sluggish. I un screwed the drain cap and discovered that it was clotted up with long strands of hair. I pulled out a big fist full of this hair. It was ally matted into each other and it was deep red. It pulled up even more hair from deeper in the drain so I pulled on that. This hair was sodden but not with water, rather with some liquid that was deep red, like arterial blood. Where ever this blood splashed it seemed to stain. The porcelain of the white tub was stained with this blood. I tried squeezing the mats of hair so there were be less staining but all I did was splash more around. There was splatters on an army green t-shirt that I used to have maybe 20 years ago and also on a pair of camoflage pants that I used to have around that time too. They had just come out of the washer and dryer and were neatly stacked on the floor next to the tub. The blood – no use calling it anything else, at this point it was blood – was spattering everywhere and still the drain was clogged. There was a huge pile of hair now, maybe a bushel basket full. But the deep red drops turned brown when they hit the drab green clothing. I looked at the shirt and the pants and tried to tell myself “Yeah, I could still wear those. Nobody would notice.” All while I’m up to my elbows in gore and human hair.

Nightmare #180 – Housesitting

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(Male 30′s) This wasn’t so much a nightmare as a really strange dream. Then again, maybe it was a nightmare. I dreamed that my therapist asked me to house-sit her apartment. I know, I know. There’s absolutely no way that this would happen in real life but I didn’t think anything of it in the dream. So she evidently leaves and I stop by and I’m not really certain what I’m supposed to do. It’s a small apartment, basically a large one bedroom with a kitchen at one end and a living area at the other. It’s very stylish though. She’s got this huge floor to ceiling bookcase though, and it’s absolutely filled with DVDs. I had to chuckle because whenever I bring up a movie, she always makes me explain what I mean. She’s got all the classics: Casablanca, Citizen Cane… But then she’s also got a whole shelf full of horror movies. And by horror, I mean those nasty torture / slasher movies that seemed so popular a couple years ago. For instance, she had like THREE copies of “The Toolbox Murders.” These weren’t classics and they weren’t even very good horror movies. They were the kind of movies watched by folks who like watching grisly, twisted violence. I tried to tell myself that it must just be a professional interest or something. But seeing those, it felt funny at first and then a little sickening and then I was rather scared, like I should really be getting out of there.