Oh my God! I had the worst nightmare last night!
I dreamt I was waking up in the pre-dawn hours. I heard rustling in the kitchen and around the corner in the hallway, I could see my neighbor making his way to our room and hopping in to bed with me and Doc. He snuggled up to me and I was feeling a bit put upon. Doc continued sleeping. My neighbor couldn’t quit fidgeting so I threw him out. I walked him down the hallway and into the kitchen.
I was stunned to see that my kitchen had been destroyed. The cupboards had been ripped off the walls, the stove was missing, the phone was missing. I started to panic. I wondered if we had left the doors unlocked. My neighbor let himself out the back door with a cheery, “Peace Out!” I looked around again and found my stove across the room from where it should have been. The phone was also in a different location: across the room and up so high on the wall, I couldn’t reach it.
I was scared. Whoever did this was both destructive and mischievous. Nothing was stolen but the room had been vandalized. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my cell phone to call 911. I wondered as I flipped my phone open whether or not this was a 911 emergency. But I decided I didn’t care; I was freaked. I started to dial the numbers and the display showed 622 instead of 911, which I had pressed. I kept trying to dial and the screen would either show the wrong numbers or it would melt into Yellow Submarine colors and little icons on the screen would start laughing at me.
Eventually I connected with someone and told them our address. I went outside to wait for the police to show up. As I wondered how the houses across the street were removed and replaced with forest, I saw a 1970’s era gold Plymouth Duster approach and pull in the driveway. Kate Jackson got out of the driver’s side door wearing a smart white pantsuit and a white leather shoulder bag. She identified herself as a detective and I started telling her what happened.
“I wonder,” she said, “if this has anything to do with the baby I saw wandering around your front yard the other day…”
“The what?!?” I said, alarmed. There was a baby in my yard?!? Wandering?!?
“The baby. I’ll make a note of it. By the way, do you want to see my new pet?” she asked.
“Um, well…” I stammered, wondering why she didn’t want to come in the house and take a look at the damage and maybe find some clues.
“Oh, I found him the other day,” she said and whistled, “Here boy!”
Out of the car jumped her pet: a jack-o-lantern. It bounced its way frenetically over to us and eventually bounded up over my head, opened its jaws and attached itself to my head. I knocked it off of my head and ran back to the house, deciding the police weren’t going to be much help and I’d better just get me and my family the hell out of there and then figure out what to do.
I went back into the kitchen and Doc was there I started to tell him what happened and he seemed unmoved. I thought maybe I was over-reacting until I saw a door in the kitchen wall that I didn’t know we had. I pushed it open and looked down to see a large atrium with another house inside of it that kind of looked like the Brady house. I slammed the door shut and decided I wasn’t over-reacting; Doc was under-reacting. I went back into the bedrooms to get the kids.
They were in my room sitting on a roofline outside of the bedroom window. They were in their jammies and they were drawing clouds…literally. They would move their little arms around and cloud images of rabbits and rainbows were forming in the sky. Then the clouds became real. This was freaky to me but still kind of innocent until one of them drew a tiger, which came to life and slinked through the window into our bedroom. I grabbed it by the collar and led it to Doc.
“Handle this, won’t you?” I said as I went back to get the kids.
I got everyone outside and I went back in to the kitchen to get my purse. Things were flying around the kitchen and it was very cold. I suddenly realized that the weird things that were happening in my house were because of ghosts! So I shouted, “Get out of my house! Get out of my house!” But of course, it came out like “Gerrrroouottmmmmhosssssss!” because my mouth and throat were semi-paralyzed. I began to panic, but I thought, no…this is my house, dammit and I’m going to get it back. So I continued screaming “Gerrrroouottmmmmhosssssss!” over and over until everything stilled and cartoon ghosts in cartoon sheets zoomed up above me and formed a row. Some of them were wearing pink glasses or blue scarves or pink vests and some were carrying handbags. As they looked down at me I finished my last chorus of “Gerrrroouottmmmmhosssssss…” paused and said, “Please?”
They swooped out through the roof of my kitchen and all was calm.
I woke up for real this time. It was 3:00 in the morning. I had the heebie-jeebies up my spine and I couldn’t move from fear. I lay there for a while, trying to get my bearings. I thought about blogging about this just to clear my head, but that would mean walking through the kitchen to get to the computer, which: NO WAY.
It was very still and I couldn’t quite shake the feeling that maybe I was still dreaming. I had an impulse to wake Doc and tell him all about it, but decided to turn on the TV. Maybe Nick-at-Night could ease my mind. Designing Women was on and I thought, that sounds innocuous enough. I settled in but was quickly alarmed when I realized the episode was about Charlene buying a haunted house. Where was Bob Newhart when you needed him?