this post was submitted on 06 Jun 2024
53 points (98.2% liked)
Asklemmy
43120 readers
975 users here now
A loosely moderated place to ask open-ended questions
Search asklemmy ๐
If your post meets the following criteria, it's welcome here!
- Open-ended question
- Not offensive: at this point, we do not have the bandwidth to moderate overtly political discussions. Assume best intent and be excellent to each other.
- Not regarding using or support for Lemmy: context, see the list of support communities and tools for finding communities below
- Not ad nauseam inducing: please make sure it is a question that would be new to most members
- An actual topic of discussion
Looking for support?
Looking for a community?
- Lemmyverse: community search
- sub.rehab: maps old subreddits to fediverse options, marks official as such
- !lemmy411@lemmy.ca: a community for finding communities
~Icon~ ~by~ ~@Double_A@discuss.tchncs.de~
founded 5 years ago
MODERATORS
you are viewing a single comment's thread
view the rest of the comments
view the rest of the comments
While I don't have it anymore, for years I had a recurring nightmare about the house I grew up in. There had always been unusual occurrences within, mostly auditory but sometimes visual. Looking back, I was never that spooked about it while living there. I honestly loved that property and have fond memories of growing up among all those old apple trees. But for years after moving out I would dream that I had returned to it, and it was very, very different.
In the dreams the house was dark and full of shadows. Completely devoid of furniture and decor. It was gray, empty, and wholly abandoned. While inside I could feel an overwhelming and foreboding precense. It was this feeling of fear and panic. Pure dread. There was something disturbing there with me as I traveled from room to room, nervously anticipating every new corner as the sun sank low and the shadows grew deeper inside. As the years progressed, I would find the house to be filled with spectral cats that accompanied me throughout, or darted around the rooms inexplicably, sometimes out of the corner of my eye and other times as clear as day. Though I couldn't quite focus on them, I had the feeling these were all the cats I had owned growing up. Some of them cats I had owned and lost since originally living there. It was as though they were trapped in the purgatory of that haunting, empty dream house, and even though the cats seemed to be full of spunk, there was an immense sadness about them being there.
The dreams occurred with greater frequency into my late 20s-early 30s, until one night I simply stepped inside and realized there was nothing left to fear. Suddenly the house no longer bothered me. It stood still and silent. Cleansed somehow. There were no more shadows, ghostly cats or smothering prescences within. It was as though the both me and the house had been freed.
I haven't dreamt about that house since, other than a snippet from another unrelated dream, where I found myself briefly gathered with a co-workers family on the back deck, but I didn't realize where I had been until waking.