“There was a man standing there.
Terror greater than any she had ever known crept over her. Her bladder, which had in fact relieved only the worst of its discomfort, now voided itself in a painless gush of heat. Jessie hadn’t the slightest idea of that or anything else.
Her terror had blown her mind temporarily clean from wall to wall and ceiling to floor. No sound escaped her, not even the smallest squeak; she was as incapable of sound as she was of thought. The muscles of her neck, shoulders, and arms turned to something that felt like warm water and she slid down the headboard until she hung from the handcuffs from a kind of slack swoon.
She didn’t black out- didn’t even come close to it- but that mental emptiness and the total physical incapacity which accompanied it were worse than a blackout. When thought did attempt to return, it was at first blocked by a dark, featureless wall of fear.
A man. A man in the corner.”
-Stephen King, “Gerald’s Game”
Yeah, this excerpt sounds a lot like my house every now and again. One afternoon after a happy slumber filled with dreams mostly about sex, I woke up face down and kind of stayed in that horniness sort of imagining I was atop of somebody. This was all good, I mean my imagination and creativity keep me from going insane usually. A few seconds later it was like “whoa wait, YOU ain’t who I was thinkin’ about!” and I jumped the fuck up because I got this terrible feeling or awareness that this uninvited alien intruder was right under me looking up at me, smiling even, as if to say, “boo.” I mean, I almost saw it.
Another time, after just waking up (and no, it was not a dream) I “knew” somebody else was in the room, and looking at me. So I got up and extended my arm, keeping a distance, but I got this hunch that the ghost was mirroring me, keeping its right hand inches from my face and mine inches from his, mocking me. I turned the light on and saw nothing.
Noah, who frequents the establishment for bed and breakfast, was in his usual berth and claims there was something looking down on him, right above his face who would always manage to wake him up right as he was falling asleep. Noises kept coming from the dining room (not mice I don’t think, I haven’t seen a single one all winter oddly) like the dice on the table were being toyed with.
I dreamed about this house when I was 14 or so, years before I would ever have any inkling of an idea I’d be living there. The place was the same, almost exactly in some parts. The little iron stove in the living room, the skylight, the small back room, which was a photographically identical. And skulls. In the dream, all sorts of skulls and skeletons were all over ,likely for a dream, but when we moved in we found Halloween skulls and skeletons all over also, more than anything else seasonal. The small room had a huge blood stain on it that I could smell in the dream.
A bit of pre-cog never hurt anyone.
Right?
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