Monday, September 23, 2013

Back in The Saddle Again: Haunted Dreams

I'm trying to get back into the habit of writing.  I am determined to write something everyday.  After all. to perfect something you must do it and do it often.  I cam across this book, "1,000 Creative Writing Prompts Ideas for Blogs, Scripts, Stories, and More," by  Bryan Cohen.  These prompts seem like the perfect way to stir up my creative energy.  I'm going to take his challenge and choose 1 a day to explore into my writing world.  The writings might start off a little rusty, but I am hopeful to slide back into the saddle with ease and continue to improve with each piece I write.

Today's writing prompt is #921.  "talk about an experience in which you felt an other worldly presence.  If you do not have one, make one up or talk about how a real life experience might have been influenced by some kind of ghost."

Haunted Dreams

I always felt my grandma's back room upstairs was haunted.  I  had heard stories of bodies being kept there until burial many years before I was born.  Spirits could easily linger there and that is a thought that still haunts my dreams until this day.  I wouldn't say my grandma's house was ancient but it was definitely very old. She had lived in it as a young girl before indoor bathrooms and running water even existed. I recall an outhouse that my Uncle Junior used to pick us up and jokingly threaten to throw us down as little children.  I have so many fond memories of that old house, I can only imagine the memories of previous generations that still haunt it to this day.

My haunted dreams never vary much, yet they still send chills through me.  There is a single light bulb screwed into a simple base in the middle of the room. There is no light switch, just a string dangling down from it.  I can see the light on from the bottom of the stairs and I know I have to make that long walk up them and into the room to turn the light off. It seems my grandma's large metal window fan is always spinning and needs to be unplugged in this process.  As I run into the room and pull it's chord, I feel the presence of something or someone watching me.  The fan is only a few feet from the light but it seems to take me forever to get back to it to yank the light cord.  The light goes off leaving me in complete darkness as I leap down the stairs and slam the door shut.  I seem to think closing the door somehow traps the unworldly being upstairs and then I wake in a cold sweat, heart pounding.  It's such a strange dream to have about a house I have not slept in for so many years, yet it brings me back to a single moment in time.

I was in high school.  I had conquered my fear of being upstairs at night and usually slept in the first room of it.  I had a lot going on in my family and in my life.  I tend to take every little thing to heart and worrying seems to be in my nature.  I'm fairly certain that is what prompted this super natural visit.  I was sound asleep when a presence woke me.  It was as if I could feel someone staring at me.  Before my eyes stood my daddy, who died when I was 3 months old.  I couldn't move, my mind reeling trying to make sense of what I saw.  The room I slept in had a tilted roof and daddy was rather tall so he was slightly bent by my bed.  His tender blue eyes were filled with love as he told me everything would be okay, everything would always be okay and he loved me and would be watching over me.  Suddenly the weight of seeing my dead father terrified me as I jumped out of bed and skipped down the stairs so fast that I think i missed most of them.  I never slept another night in that room.

I wish I could go back into that moment of time.  I would not have been scared, but instead I would have told him I loved him too.  He never came to me again, at least not in such a vivid way.  It's a comfort to know my daddy is watching over me, it is something I truly believe.  The stories hidden in that house are greater than I could imagine.  I wonder if anyone else has been visited by a glimpse of it's past.  This interaction with my daddy is the only memory I have of him and fear forced it to end much too short, or perhaps I heard what he really wanted to convey and there was no need for him to return.  A brief moment suspended in time, forever engraved into my mind, and permanently hidden in my heart.

Chelle
9/23/13

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