The Ghost In The Wall

I grew up in a house that was built around 1865, out in the country. It was a beautiful house, with shining wood floors, carved doors, crystal doorknobs, sliding 'pocket doors', and a staircase stage that led up to the door to the stairs. The house was in excellent condition, for its age.

When I was about 7,  I realized that I kept having the same dream over and over and over. We had lived in the house for a while, and my room had eventually been moved upstairs, to make way for a new baby downstairs.

I always went up and down the stairs with a bit of trepidation, it was a very large house to me. The stairs went straight up, it seemed, and were hard to climb. On the way down I imagined the ghost, laughing, standing behind me, knowing he could push me down the stairs and just be done with my bothersome child presence. I used to jump down them to the bottom and out that door, turn right, jump down onto the stage and turn right, and run, all in about 3 seconds, just to get out of that stairwell. 

It really was a nice old house, actually, with a large porch, and lots of windows. The whole house had nice plaster walls, including the stairway, which had a wooden rail, and gleaming varnished stairs made of walnut, I suppose, for they were as perfect as the day they had been built, with no wear, even after one hundred years.

The dream was weird, starting out all rainbow colors, mixing, mixing, until they were brown and ugly, going black...

...then the black, it appears from inside a door in a wall (where none truly existed, in the stairwell). I open the door to the black, and inside, I see eyes looking back, like an invisible ghost waited inside, a ghost in the wall, whose eyes were almost smirking at me, delighted with its power over me that got me to open the door in the first place.

Then, I'd wake up. I made myself wake up.

It was a scary dream, and a scary house. I had to really learn to control my fears in that house, and not run, or jump, or do silly things because of imagined fears. Eventually I learned to laugh and scoff at the fears that created the 'ghost', and realized there is nothing in the dark that is not in the light. And there's nothing behind me, or inside the wall...

I eventually stopped having that dream, after we moved away.

Here's a picture from around 1963,

when the house was almost 100 years old.

LeisaWolf LeisaWolf
51-55, F
2 Responses Mar 16, 2010

Theres a figure off to the top left of the photo.