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forearms
Napping this afternoon on the couch, I dream... ...we’re sitting at the dining room table, my wife and I. I hear someone call “Tom” from the back hallway. I turn to see something there, down at the bottom of the steps — small and pale, almost like a child. “Don’t look!” my wife says just as it rushes up towards me... ...awaken with… Continue reading forearms
switch
Sitting in my office this afternoon, working. A few moments ago I heard the distinctive sound of the light switch in the back hallway snapping on. A few moments later I heard it snap off. My wife and youngest daughter are napping upstairs. Before I heard the light switch, it was quiet and peaceful. No telltale sounds of someone coming up… Continue reading switch
bathtime again
Downstairs, I run a bath for my daughter. I kneel down to check the water. When I rise, the old woman is standing in the doorway. She is hunched over, watching me. “Fuck.” And then she’s gone.
light
In the house behind ours, the light in the high attic window keeps turning on and then off again every few minutes. Disconcerting.
in the bathtub
“What’s a haunted house?” My daughter is four years old and, a few days before Halloween, she’s decided to start asking questions. I wring out the washcloth, buying time. We don’t talk about these kinds of things around her. She has a couple of picture books, but… “What honey?” “What’s a haunted house?” “Well . . . that’s a house… Continue reading in the bathtub
a fall
When I get home after work, my youngest daughter meets me at the door. I’m late and phoned ahead to say they should start dinner without me. A plate of half-eaten food waits at my wife’s place at the same able. But she is nowhere to be seen. “Mama went upstairs,” our daughter tells me. After a few minutes, my wife comes… Continue reading a fall
hard knocks
My daughter an I are in my office when my wife calls from the TV room. I hear her but it doesn’t register until she calls again, a rising note of alarm in her voice. “What’s wrong?” She is pale, intense. I can’t tell if she’s angry or something else. “I just heard...” She stops, starts again. “Someone just knocked on the… Continue reading hard knocks
ghost friend
(Via Poorly Drawn Lines)
peanuts
almost
...as we’re passing through the room, I stop and take note of our surroundings: The concrete walls of the service tunnel, the exposed pipes . . . it’s all so familiar. Then I have it. In a flash of recognition, I turn to my companions — he is tall and dark skinned, she is waif-like and pale — and say… Continue reading almost
cat below
Working late, I hear one of the cats crying below in the basement. It is a faint, plaintive sound. I set aside the story I’ve been working on and get up with a sigh. Our two cats have been a considerable amount of trouble lately — skittish, fighting with each other late at night, becoming more and more territorial. Or,… Continue reading cat below
shimmer
“There was something in the back hallway,” my wife tells me over dinner. “I saw it right before we were leaving.” “What did you see?” She thinks for a moment. “It was a blur in the air, almost shimmering. Just a movement...” Gooseflesh on my arms, the back of my neck. “That’s interesting you say that.” “Why?” “Tell me what else you… Continue reading shimmer
on the way to bed
Conversation with my four-year-old daughter... “Time to sleep, sleep and dream.” “I don’t always remember my dreams.” “That’s okay. They remember you.” I think this might be the best thing I have ever said or ever will say.
passing by
In the upstairs bathroom, I stand and wait for my youngest daughter to finish. My back is to the door. Given my history, that’s uncommon. As I help her down off the toilet, I catch a glimpse of someone passing behind me — walking through the hallway just beyond the door. I assume it’s my teenage daughter coming out of… Continue reading passing by
morning visitation
...and as I open the door leading from my office to the front of the house, I see a pale shape, not much more than the impression of a white dress moving through the light coming in the windows. It flows from right to left. I stop. I blink. It is gone.
beginning of the end
...and my wife’s face contorts in pain, her brow furrowed. I ask her what’s wrong but, before she can answer, a wave of distortion ripples through the air like a mirage. “Something’s happened.” I look out the window and see a mushroom cloud rising in the distance. The television fills in the rest of the details: Every major city in… Continue reading beginning of the end
stench again
That smell again. A warm, yellow smell of rotting fish. My youngest daughter and I are in the back hallway when it drifts past. It almost seems to stop and turn back, encircling us for a moment. I look down and see that my daughter has wrinkled her nose. After a moment, the stench dissipates. I can find nothing that might’ve… Continue reading stench again
a sad girl
...lying in bed this morning, I woke to the sound of the bedroom door opening. I hear my wife slowly close the door behind her. I hear her footsteps on the floorboards, approaching my side of the bed. I cannot move, cannot open my eyes. I feel a fingertip on my arm, just inside the hinge of my elbow. The footsteps move away.… Continue reading a sad girl
jump
I dream of flight, from time to time. Even awake, it seems like the ability is just right there and all I have to do is...
doppelgänger
...and as I walk back into my office, I see — or I think I see — a man standing to one side and looking through my filing cabinet. It is me, myself. I am the one standing there, dressed in the same clothes I am wearing today. I blink. He is gone. I am gone. Unnerved, I get back to work.
bath time
“Will you check the tub in a minute?” My wife comes into the room, a little cross. We are getting our daughter ready for bed. “What’s wrong?” “There was almost no water in the tub and it was cold.” “Really?” She repeats this again. Unspoken is the rebuke — or, perhaps, the fear — that something odd has happened. It was full,… Continue reading bath time
ghost weather
Early summer afternoon. Overcast skies. Waiting for storms. The house is gray. Quiet. Pale light from outside, dim within. The air still, dead. Every room feels empty and full at the same time. An unseen crowd gathers. Something around every corner. Watchful. Waiting. Patient.
the walking men
Three or four times now, while I’ve been walking in the neighborhood with my youngest daughter, I’ve seen a man wearing a long black overcoat and a fedora. Three times now. Three different men. One of them is quite young, perhaps in his early twenties, with scraggly facial hair and glasses. Another is older, around my age. And another was… Continue reading the walking men
“Hey Dad?”
Walking through the office I hear — or I think I hear — my son’s voice, very distinct and clear, call to me. I look back down the hallway but, of course, no one is there.
flake
Packing up for the day, getting ready to head for home... I reach for my cell phone and watch in amazement as a bright flake of light, a translucent chip of yellow-white light about the size of my fingernail, floats up from the screen towards my face. I blink, shake my head. It is gone.
stench
Over the holidays, there were a number of points when I noted a pungent smell in the little hallway at the back of our kitchen — a cloying stench, like rotting fish. (I do not care for this little hallway. It feels off to me, somehow. There is a mirror of it upstairs and the one gives me a vague… Continue reading stench
the short
We’re in the back bedroom, my wife and I. Fucking. It’s hard sometimes to find the time, the moment. Children, work, day-to-day life — these things conspire and distract and exhaust. But we find the time, when we can. We find the moments, synchronized, together. And it is good. Perhaps it is too brief, too short. But we know each… Continue reading the short
a tornado, two corpses, and a leather sofa
Inside the house, people are starting to panic. The sky outside is dark and green, the wind bending the trees to almost impossible angles. We can hear the sirens and, in a house this old, there is no safe place . . . every room has windows, the elderly frame flexes and creaks in the wind just like the trees… Continue reading a tornado, two corpses, and a leather sofa
dark ride
I am surprised to see a Ferris wheel looming over the downtown district, pale against the darkening sky. As evening descends, we make our way towards the carnival. It is dark everywhere. There are no flickering lights, no music — just the mechanical clack and clank of the rides, the muted murmur of the crowds. (This seems ominous now, awake.… Continue reading dark ride
the shadow project
Over fifteen years ago I wanted to try a build a site that could collect dreams — the natural extension of my mild obsession to record my own for the past twenty years or so. Alas, my technical capabilities weren’t up to the challenge. But it’s very cool to see all these later that something like The Shadow Project isn’t just… Continue reading the shadow project
kitchen door
For some reason, I am holding a bottle of olive oil in my hand while my daughter and I take a walk around the block. (We are not at home, this is not the neighborhood where we live in the waking world. This is someplace else. I do not recognize it from either my dreams or the waking world.) Midway through… Continue reading kitchen door
little girls
Reported by my wife: A few days ago she and our daughter were in the back stairwell, getting ready to go for a walk. Once she got our daughter into her shoes, my wife sat down to put her own on. While she was doing this, our daughter went down the three steps to the back door. My wife could hear her… Continue reading little girls
a moment of moore
On my way through the park, I see a familiar figure heading in the opposite direction. He shambles, one hand raised to shield his eyes from the afternoon sun. His hair and beard are wild and ragged as the hem of his overcoat. I change my course somewhat to interest his. He looks up as I approach, a patient mix… Continue reading a moment of moore
ragged
Sitting on the toilet in the back bathroom, I hear a sound at the door — as through someone pressed against it from the outside, maybe one of the cats? But the door has nearly an inch gap at the bottom. I can see nothing outside. A few minutes later I am jolted into a panic by the sight of something… Continue reading ragged
whisper
As I come into the front room of our house, I hear man’s voice whisper something — a single phrase, very distinct but unintelligible. Cleaning up in the back bathroom, I hear voices pitched in an argument — just a few lines back and forth — again, distinctly audible but no words can be made out.
neighborhood watch
...and when the neighbors show up at our front door, they demand entrance and will not leave. Too small to be a mob, but there are enough of them to force their way in. In the entryway, they shout that we are heathens and devil worshippers — they begin opening doors and ransacking the rooms. Books are thrown to the floor,… Continue reading neighborhood watch
footsteps again, of course
Standing in the kitchen, I hear the sound of someone coming down the back stairs — slow, cautious . . . almost stealthy. But when I go to check, of course, no one is there. It takes a few minutes for the hair on my arms to lay back down again. My skin is electric, almost burning.
gentleman caller
...and while my daughter plays in the tub, there’s a sudden wave of men’s cologne — acrid and sour — that passes over me. My throat closes, I am overcome with a coughing fit. Inexplicable. My wife does not wear perfume. I do not wear cologne. It lingers for a number of minutes there in the bathroom before slowly dissipating.
gitchy
A strange atmosphere hanging over The Last House tonight. The sky outside is heavy with rain, but it doesn’t look like any will fall. The heat is heavy, like a hand on your chest. Inside . . . everything feels pressurized, oppressive. There are shadows moving through the rooms, vague shapes darting here and there in the periphery of my vision… Continue reading gitchy
early morning
Woken by my daughter early this morning, unable to get back to sleep so I head downstairs to sit in the predawn dark, looking up from my book from time to time as little beads of shadow stream across the floor like dark mercury. An hour or so later, I hear footfalls overhead. They move through the laundry room to… Continue reading early morning
peeking
Later... Sitting in the living room, talking with my wife while our daughter plays . . . I see someone peek around the corner of the entry leading into the dining room, a brief flash like someone pokes their head out for a quick look and then ducked back behind the wall when I looked in their direction. Still cheating… Continue reading peeking
mossy
Sitting with my youngest daughter this evening, something lingers in the corner of my eye. I have a vague impression of something olive green, mossy, no more than three feet tall. A spindly figure standing in the little hallway leading to my office. Then it’s gone.
comedy and tragedy
...when the comedian pulls up in the Winnebago, I hop in. We chat and get acquainted while his two cats prowl around in back. A few hours on the road and I realize we’re not going to get back home in time for me to help out with the baby’s bedtime. I’m embarrassed to say anything, I don’t want to appear… Continue reading comedy and tragedy
laundry room
As I came into the laundry room this morning, a shadow moved in the dim light from right to left — coming from the hallway and passing through the closed and locked door at the top of the back stairs. The shadow was large, as wide as a refrigerator though not as tall. It has a solid mass to it,… Continue reading laundry room
lavender dress
My wife went to the market one afternoon this past weekend. The weather was warm and she was wearing a long lavender dress, very lovely. The dress has bare arms and drapes in a style reminiscent of a statue of a Greek goddess. While she was out, a flash of color caught my eye in the back hallway. I saw… Continue reading lavender dress
the visit
Halfway through my day I stop and reach desperately for a scrap of dream from the night before, a vague memory that my character Jee came to see me. She had something important to tell me. But the dream is gone, nothing left but a sense of something forgotten.
in the shower
...as I’m washing my backside, someone peeks in between a seam in the shower curtain — old and wizened, though I cannot tell whether it is a man or a woman. They roll their eyes up at me, almost comical, and purse their mouth in a silent “Oooo...” ...and then I wake with a start, my afternoon nap ruined.
the right to bear arms
...I’m stunned to see the President of the United States at the door. He bustles in before I can get my head around his sudden appearance. He is alone and clearly in peril. He slams the door and locks it behind him, thanking me for letting him in. It is strange to see him scared, completely alone. I wonder where… Continue reading the right to bear arms
precision
...with slow, precise snips of the nail clippers, I remove most of my right toenail, somewhat proud to have done it in a single, broad piece. The skin beneath is tender, painful. I hope my wife will not notice.