Wednesday, October 01, 2014
Hey heyyyy ... come out and PLAY
The other night, I had another dream about the house I grew up in. I know why; it's because there's been yet more family f*cking drama going on lately, and any time that happens, I tend to dream about the house.
The haunted house, that is.
The funny thing is, I don't really believe in ghosts, per se. I don't believe in the afterlife and I don't believe that some of us hang around after we die.
But there was something in that house. I'm still having nightmares about that house, fifty damn years on.
I won't go into details about my dream the other night; suffice it to say it was a nightmare, and it was about the door to the storage room, and I finally got the courage to summon forth whatever was lurking in there, and
I don't wanna talk about it anymore. Seriously, I don't want to talk about it. It's too hard. Most of the time, as soon as I wake up from one of these dreams, I'm fine, because I realize that I'm not actually back in that house, that I'm in my OWN house, which is not haunted in any way, shape, or form, but for whatever reason, I had a hard time shaking this one off.
Maybe someday I'll stop dreaming about that house. I hope so, anyway.
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4 comments:
Of course you know that supposedly stuff in dreams are actually symbols for other things yada yada yada. So maybe that house represents your family, and the door (although it had its own terror back when) is something unspoken in your family, a family secret, a suspicion, a "bad thing" no one wants to address, but you are afraid it will come out and ... something. Yada yada.
Maybe the only way to get rid of the dream is to uncover the awful thing hiding in "the house" and determine that it's not so horrible once known and faced. Or something.
Yeah, I'm familiar with the whole dream-as-metaphor thing, but the only "bad thing" I can think in my family is that (most of*) my siblings are assholes, and that's hardly a secret. Ha. Witness the latest attempt to throw me under the bus for something one of them did. Sheesh. Shady damn people, I'm tellin' ya.
I think maybe my brain is just (still) trying to process the fact that there was something in that house that scared the living piss out of me when I was a kid, and I *still* don't know what exactly it was and (hopefully) never will. Maybe my brain just can't handle the unknowable? (and yeah, of course that made me think of, "YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH!" ha.)
and I usually tend to have these dreams (see also: dreams about the abusive ex) when I'm under stress. Gee thanks, subconscious; instead of sending me rainbows and unicorns to soothe my troubled psyche, you're sending me horrible scary things. hahahaha SO FUNNY I FORGOT TO LAUGH.
Maybe my subconscious is trying to frighten me to death. Now THAT would make a good scary movie.
*love ya, Texas.
Most times when I have nightmares, I'm in my grandmother's house up North -- it is FREAKY. My childhood memories of that place are genuinely nice, so for the longest time I couldn't figure out why all my nightmares take me back there. I happened to mention this to one of my aunts years ago, and she thought that was interesting...she then proceeded to tell me that when I was still a baby, my dad had intentionally spooked me by holding one of those big ass old fashioned alarms next to my ear on full blast (you know the ones with the small hammer on top that moves really fast between those two 'bells') while I was sleeping (yeah, he was a nice guy) and apparently I didn't stop screaming for a good while after this happened. Obviously I have no memory of this, but maybe my brain/subconscious somehow connects 'evil' with that place and it always comes back to me in nightmares...
I find this stuff intersting :)) Sorry for hijacking your comments with my own story, hahaha.
Zella, that story is fascinating! Childhood trauma that continues to ripple through.
I had several more weird dreams last night, all of which involved a loss of control (trying to take a biology test with broken microscope slides, etc.), so I'm thinking it's just me trying to work through my sister's* latest attempt to screw me over ... although I still can't quite link in the scary basement. Maybe losing control is ... scaring me? Eh. Maybe sometimes a cigar is just a cigar. I like your alarm clock theory.
Now I promise to stop talking about my dreams. Ha.
*not Texas - a different sister.
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