Tag: mansions

Confirmed, Twice

Posted on by Decade Dream Journal

I dream that I’m working at the new store, the one above our regular store that I dreamed about last week. I’ve always wondered, when something seems familiar, is it because I’ve legit dreamed about if before or is it just my mind playing tricks? Well, now I know! This time I’m wearing a name tag on my chest that says “I’m new, please be gentle with me.” Indeed I’m so slow that my cousin kicks me out.

The next day I don’t want to go to work, I’m not even sure if they actually hired me back or if this is all just a dream. I go out with friends instead, we stop to buy pizza but the guy behind the counter seems very unhygienic, I slip away without my friends noticing. I’m hungry now and it’s night already, I stop at a restaurant that is just a series of tables under the stars. I’m very suspicious about hygienic standards, I order a simple cheese pizza (the least dangerous, I assume), it takes them ages to bring it to the table.

(Photo by zero take on Unsplash)

The next morning I’m walking home after skipping work once again, I hear someone calling me, I look up and see my neighbor C. waving at me from the attic window. I go up to her and she’s sitting at a table eating, she starts telling me all about some gossip she heard (typical!) when a goose flies in from the window, a big brown goose, rather angry. It starts honking at C.’s ear, doesn’t calm down until it’s offered some food.

(Photo by Biel Morro on Unsplash)

I close all the doors and windows in case the goose wants to come back, then go down the stairs. I’m in a beautiful old mansion that belongs to my grandfather. It used to be in ruins when I was a kid, now my uncle has renovated and it’s so beautiful it looks more like a museum. I know once grandgfather dies my uncle will kick us out and I wish I could show all of this to my penpal in time, but she’s visited me just a few days ago (I DO dream about old dreams!) and it’s gonna be a while before she comes back. Maybe I’ll give her a virtual tour, once new technologies allow it.

I look at the portraits on the walls and imagine what I would say to 18th century people to explain TV screens.

It’s like a big mirror, but instead of yourself you see other people and stories. It’s connected by a series of wires that transfer electricity, it’s the stuff lighting bolts are made of.

My uncle arrives and catches me looking at his art collection. Just like grandfather, this guy isn’t one of my IRL uncles, he’s a short, balding man with glasses, and expensive suit and a nervous expression. He notices I’m crying because I’m so moved by all these beautiful neoclassical statues, he says he cries all the time too, maybe he can get along with my siblings and I after all.

We organize a sack race so we can bond, I’m a teen girl, I have a teen brother and a toddler sister, suspiciously similar to A Series of Unfortunate Events characters. The toddler wins the race.

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Warning: Somewhat Horror (Also, Sorry, Mom)

Posted on by Decade Dream Journal

I dream that my mother and I are taking part in a horror tour. It’s night when our bus arrives at a haunted old mansion, we get inside along with all the other guests, cheering and laughing.

(Photo by Ján Jakub Naništa on Unsplash)

The mansion is haunted alright, but I soon figure out the ghosts and other scary presences (mostly dead girls, pale, bleeding) cannot be touched and can’t harm us in any way. I feel relieved, amused, even. There’s something else about the house though, something odd: it seems to be able to read our minds. I can think about anything I want, anything at all, and the house makes it happen.

I want to buy a souvenir. I see a dish set hanging from the wall, beautiful golden and white plates. As soon as I think it the set flies into my arms and the money leaves my bank account, just like magic. I ask for the check and it’s projected directly into my brain. I say out loud I’d rather have a paper copy and a young maid brings it to me. She says,

Thank you, these numbers will help me win the lottery, back in 2005.

I go back to the bus and realize my mother is nowhere to be found. As I’m starting to worry she finally runs out from the main door, looking frantic, screaming, her face contorted with fear. A waiter is following her, his white shirt covered in yellow puke. I have a moment of terrifying realization: this cannot be my mother. She would never act like this. This is a ghost trying to escape, and my real mother is still trapped inside.

Everybody begs me to stop, but I’m already running back. The doors close behind me, the tour bus leaves, and with a shiver I realize I’m the one being trapped here. Just like the house wanted.

I wake up and fall back to sleep. Now I’m at home, waiting for the police to arrive. A man with round glasses has showed me the future, I know I’m wanted, I know the police will seize all my favorite pens (I hide them, just in case), and I know that my mother will be arrested as well.

I see a police car and a van arriving and parking outside. As I open the door I tell my parents to stay calm: surely it’s all a mistake, if we explain ourselves we can avoid any trouble. I open the door and dozens upon dozens of officers pour in. Most of them go directly to my bedroom (my poor pens!) but their chief stays to interrogate me. She’s a blonde woman, tall, extremely beautiful but there’s something cold in her eyes, something not human. I realize in a moment she’s one of the ghosts from the hunted house, and she wants to steal my body and give it to one of her ghosts friends.

Years later I get out of prison. The beautiful blonde chief is waiting for me and we kiss passionately. Am I still me? Am I a ghost? I cannot tell. Flash forward a few more years, I’m on boat on a stormy ocean. The boat sinks and I wash ashore on a beautiful island. I lost my memory.

My alarm rings.

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