There is this house I dream about: Victorian in style; five or six stories; large; white. From a bedroom on its top floor, there is a curved staircase behind a door which leads to the attic. The attic is filled with boxes, toys, pictures and other things from my past… and it is haunted.
The house has several stairways, and I often get lost on them. There are secret passages that lead to rooms – often rooms I spent time in as a child, like my aunt’s basement, or the playroom under her stairs.
Last night I was on the main floor. My husband and I decided that we needed more money, and would turn part of the house into a motel of sorts. We would move upstairs with our two girls, who were asleep at the time (the foster girls we tried to adopt, I presume, though they were quite young – 3 and 5 maybe – and I never saw their faces clearly, and I never thought their names.)
“But the attic…” my husband said.
“Never mind,” I responded, “we just won’t go in there.” (In the past dreams, I have often gone in. It is always haunted, and the spirits follow me into the room below.)
As we were speaking, an agent showed up with clients who wanted to rent the two bedrooms on the main floor. (I clearly knew there were two bedrooms on the main level, and two bedrooms on the second level to rent, with a bathroom on each floor.) I hadn’t had time to make the beds, or change the sheets, or anything. My husband got the girls up and brought them upstairs.
I explained to the clients that we had only just decided to rent the rooms out, and I hadn’t had a chance to clean yet – but if they could give me a couple of hours, I would have it ready for them. The sheets would be changed, and the blankets as well, because I didn’t believe in sharing unwashed blankets between guests (as many motels and hotels do) though I did worry as I had quilts on the beds which would get ruined with many washings.
While my dream house stays the same between dreams, what I am doing there often changes. I am not sure where the house came from – the style is somewhat like the older houses in the city where I grew up, though this one has white siding, where those ones were all brick. I have stood outside of it a few times, but for the most part I spend the entire dream inside.
Most of the time I am in the room with the staircase that leads to the attic. It has a bay window beside the door. The room itself is empty of furniture, though sometimes I bring things down from the attic to sort through (which I am never actually able to get far with in my dreams, for as I mentioned, the attic is haunted.)
Though I have dreamed of this house at least since my teen years, it has recently become more frequent that I find myself there, and I begin to wonder why this is. I suppose the motel idea is due to the fact that my last job was working both the front desk and housekeeping part of a motel. I am sure that 4 rooms would be much easier to maintain than 35 – however I do not see myself running a bed and breakfast; I don’t have the personality for that.
I wonder if I will ever find this house during my waking hours, or if I will ever find out why the attic is haunted. Until then, I suppose I will just spend my nights exploring the house, and getting to know it more.