My Dream House

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My name is Danielle, I’m nineteen, and I have a bizarre story that began with a dream. This was a dream I had a few months ago, so unfortunately it’s a bit vague, but the details that stuck with me are perplexing.

In this dream, I was in a house I’d never seen before. To be forthright, I wasn’t even sure if I was me; I sometimes have dreams where I am seeing from the perspective of someone else. I am seeing with their eyes as if I were them, so I only know which perspective I’m seeing from if I distinctly remember when I wake up, or if I did something in the dream or acted in a way that was out of character. Although, even if I was myself, I had a different life–I was surrounded by friends and family that looked vaguely familiar, but I remember thinking to myself as I was dreaming that I didn’t really know them. But my Dream Self acted as though all was normal.

I was in the kitchen, which was located at the back of the house, sitting at a table, having a friendly conversation with a guy around my age. I took in my surroundings as we talked, gazing upon white walls and cabinets and a black and white checkered floor. At one point I went to grab something from the living room, which was through an entryway to the left of the kitchen. 

A little later, there was some sort of family gathering. Myself, the guy from the kitchen, and a girl around my age who was also present at the house went out of the kitchen door that led to the backyard. We stepped down from the deck and began setting up a picnic table that was a few feet away. I again sized up my surroundings, recognizing that to my Dream Self this was all familiar, but my Actual Self had never been here before. I looked up to see that it was nearing dusk, and as I looked down I noticed a fencing encircled the backyard. Just before the fence was a large shed. Neighborhood children and children related to my Dream Self ran around as children do. I glanced to my right to see some hop the fence from the neighbor’s yard into our yard. I then studied the neighbors house, an elegant wood house with a low roof. 

Eventually, we all gathered around the wooden picnic table for dinner. Afterwards, the kids began to play again and the adults just enjoyed the evening outside, walking around while keeping an eye on the kids. I remember looking into a basement window of my home and waving at a friendly older man, who could have been my Dream Father or Dream Grandfather–I know that my memory of the dream was so much more vivid months ago, but I must have subconsciously discarded it after regarding it as not important. Anyhow, all I remember is that the man was working on some sort of project, maybe wielding or something like that. 

The only other important detail of the dream was the way the house looked. It was a beautiful, large, two-story brick house that reminded me of two houses combined to make one–since there were many doors around all sides of the house.

The rest of this story took place yesterday. I was outside with my little brother, riding bikes. He wanted to ride his new bike he had gotten for Christmas and I hadn’t ridden my old one in a long time, so we thought it would be fun the continue on for a little while. Then my brother suggested that we visit the “haunted” house down the street. I’d never been there, but I’ve heard of my family talk about it before. During summer holidays, someone always breaches the subject of the “haunted golf cart ride”, a ride that I’d never been on since only so many people can fit on a golf cart. Some of them are always a bit tipsy when the subject comes up, so I figured they were just being silly and I usually don’t take them seriously. Don’t get me wrong, I believe in ghosts, it’s just hard to take drunk people seriously. (Don’t worry, there are no drunk golf cart drivers, and in addition we live in the middle of nowhere.)

When my brother asked to go to the haunted house, I was immediately intrigued, since I’d never been. We set off and reached the end of the road in five minutes or so. From there, the road diverges into two dirt lanes, neither of which I’d ever ventured down. The path became rocky so my brother and I leapt off our bikes and walked with them, giving him a chance to tell me the story behind the house. 

He told me that a little girl once lived there but she had died in a car accident on that road, and that single light was always on in one of the top floor rooms, despite the house being vacant and the electric being shut off. As my brother finished, we were approaching the property. I was wondering if I would get one of those telltale classic feelings of being among the paranormal. I don’t mean to sound cliche, but I did feel something, although not what I was expecting. 

It was a bit of an ominous feeling, but nothing terrifying. Perhaps it was just because I was looking up at a house so large, knowing what had happened to some poor girl who had lived there….This feeling was accompanied by a sort of sinking, empty feeling, like I was missing something. We walked around a few feet and a little closer, and sure enough the single light was on in a top floor room. 

We continued to walk around to the side of the house, in between two large trees that closed the gap between the shed and the house, concealing what lie passed them. An old shed with chipping paint has always been an eerie sight for me, I’m not sure why. To the left of the shed were stairs leading down to a basement door. A large deck hung over the stairs, making the path dark. It would be something very scary indeed at night, but during the day it was just a neat architectural feature, albeit a little creepy. Needless to say, we still did not venture down the stairs to peek through the glass door. 

We did, however, peak through all the other doors. We passed the shed and went onto the backyard, which was a lovely fenced in area that had two picnic tables just a little ways away from the deck….My brother and I went up the deck stairs and peered through the glass door to see a kitchen….a beautiful kitchen with white cabinets and walls, and…and black and white checkered tiles. I spun my head away from the glass, almost feeling a little light-headed, and that’s when I remembered that I had seen this place before. I returned to the glass to study the room once more. The table was in the same corner, the entryway to the living room was to the left….There was a sink in my line of vision, facing the wall opposite me. It contained some old dishes. Boxes and papers were scattered here and there. Next to the door was a fridge. It looked relatively modern but was slightly dirty. Its doors were open, confirming that the electric was shut off. The sight of that room told me that certainly no one was living there. 

I didn’t know what to make of my memory of the dream or of the house. My brother and I walked around and studied it for a few more minutes. I even recognized the neighbor’s house, a modern wooden home with a low roof…

I’ve been trying to wrack my brain for any other memories of the dream, anything significant, but I’ve got nothing. I don’t remember a little girl in particular or anything tragic, just a nice day with family from a life that may not be my own. 

I haven’t told anyone about this aside from one friend. I haven’t even told my brother–even though he’s quite mature, I think he would still be too young to have something like this dropped on him.

I consider myself to be very spiritual and intuitive. I’ve had spiritual encounters and even other spiritual dreams like this before. My dreams are often vivid and I usually put effort into trying to discern them, because you never know. I’m also a psychology student and find the subject quite interesting. 

Without a doubt, I saw this house before physically seeing it, and I don’t really know what this means, or if I will ever know. I’m thankful that my nighttime visit to this place months ago was a tribute to a happy time, because otherwise, I don’t know if I would be so calm about this situation…

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