6.27.2007

{bad dreams.}

pouring out the skylight on the third floor of the house, was a large house plant. i had placed it there assuming it might manifest sort of organic aesthetic value, it's leaves and giant orange blossoms pushing their way out of the house, as though the house were filled with such exotic vegetation. i took the two girls outside, so they might judge my attempt at exterior decorating. they told me it looked really stupid.

the house belonged to my aunt, and for as far back as i can gather memories, that house has terrified me. at any age, if i found myself alone in any room, my chest would swell with terror. this happened most predominantly in the studio, which was positioned above the garage. in order to get to the studio, you had to use the raised walkway, which passed above, and separated, the living and dining rooms. it's difficult to explain. the house was put together in the strangest of ways. but the studio was mostly isolated from the rest of the living quarters. it's also hard to explain why the house was so petrifying. i wasn't used to being in the woods, which may have been part of it. in the day time it was an amazingly beautiful space, so full of character and light. the sun shone through the trees, into the large windows, creating a warm sense of comfort. but at night, as it tends to be the case, the entire mood of the house changed. even thinking of it now, i am brought to cold sweats imagining the times i watched the house while aunt and cousins were out of town. the structure was filled with peculiar angles and rooms, giving one no real sense of escape, if the cause were to arise. there was no real way to be aware of your surroundings. anything could enter the room from a dozen different places. it was a large, open house, but very complicated. the nights in that house were filled with quickly shifting eyes and perked ears.


it was day, so the house didn't seem so intense. the girls told me it was a dumb idea to put the plant half way out the window on the third floor, which happened to be the loft, my oldest cousin's room. i told them i would show them were the plant was in the house, as though it would somehow sway their opinion. "it's on the third floor," i said, "i mean the fourth. no- the third." we began to walk up the steps, into the loft.


we are outside again. the day has instantly shifted to night, and the house, not looking like its normal self, has taken on a foreboding state. from the lawn, we look to the third floor.

in the loft we find my brother at a giant security system. the monitors display all the different rooms of the house. he tells us we have to go. we can't stay here. he's been living here for years. ever room in the loft is filled with boxes of untouched, but spoiled food. i feel no sense of safety outside this room. there are horrid things looming on the property. my brother goes on to tell us about how he's been living here monitoring the zombies. but they've multiplied, and are completely out of hand. we have to make out way out of the house. the zombies on the screens are reminiscent of apes. they are slow and aloof.

we find ourselves in an underground room. despite the fact that we are underground, we are also outside. it is a gigantic room, made to look like farm land, and it is littered with zombies. they are kept from us by a giant gate. the gate beings to open. i look at my brother and we agree that it would be absolutely unfortunate to be caught in the midst of this "room".



the dog barks now and i am dreaming lucidly. i fall back.



i am in the house alone. as in, by myself, but the presence of the house is becoming clearer, more centalized. i live in the house now. me and an evil spirit. this specter is overwhelming. i feel him constantly. he is a weight on my life, it's difficult to breath. i know he's with me all the time. eventually i begin to speak to him, with a steady confidence. he can't hurt me, although he would like to. i have fear, but a great strength to contend with him, to question and break him. when i turn corners, his shadow is there. he carries knives across the kitchen. he watches me while i sleep. i say to him, "you have just as much choice to be evil as you do to be good. why don't you show yourself to me. i want to see you." i am filled with great compassion.

he says his name is Skeet. we are in the dining room. in the corner by the window, where once when i was very young, i drank wine alone. we argue, and i rebuke his presence. his face is made of fire. and we are screaming. there is compassion and great anger. the point of his existence escapes me. i am stronger. his face is made of fire, lacking features. and his body is white and shapeless. i am frightened but unwavering. i am tossing in my sleep. megan, megan, are you awake? it takes me a few seconds to feel my body. to connect with myself. yes, i am awake.

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