When the House Knows: Precognitive Dream 2

 When the House Knows: Precognitive Dream 2

This dream is emotionally charged. If you are sensitive or have PTSD this may be triggering.

This was by far one of the most intensely strange dream occurrences I've ever had. Not only was the dream a premonition, but it was also an OBE. 

OBE refers to an out-of-body experience. As far as my memory serves me, it is the only time I have experienced such a thing.

How it Began

At the end of the sixth grade, our class was visited by the Laramie Junior High School. They passed out registration cards for our parents to sign. Excitedly, I brought home my registration card. But, my Mom refused to sign it, because we were moving.

In desperation, I filled the card out and signed her name. I knew I could get into trouble, but I really wanted to stay where I was! Oh, my desire to stay in Laramie had been strong.

The summer went by with my friends and me walking around town and playing hide and seek in the neighborhood. My grandmother had gotten me a sweet Australian shepherd puppy. I named her Gypsy. Life was good.

Mom's Will Was Stronger

My mom moved us to Sturgis, South Dakota at the end of summer. This was the trip I dreaded. I wanted to stay in Laramie, where my life was! But, Mom's word and will were stronger than mine, and I found myself thrust into the car with my 4-year-old brother, and our dogs Gypsy and Kilo.

Our New Home

We moved into an older mobile home. It was probably built in the late nineteen fifties to mid-nineteen sixties. This trailer was very narrow.

When you opened the front door the living area greeted you. The kitchen was to the right of the door. It took up the front of the mobile. To the left of the living area was a hallway. It led to a full bathroom and bedroom. Someone had made a second bedroom just off the living area and at the start of the hall. 

This second bedroom was very tiny. It had a twin bed shoved against the wall shared with the bathroom. The foot and the head of the bed fit snuggly between the outside wall and the wall of the hallway. Next to the bed was a small nightstand. It fit snuggly between the bed and the living room wall. It was tiny, but it was mine. My mom and little brother would share the large bedroom.

Shortly after moving in Gypsy became more than my mom could bear. She sent Gypsy home with my grandmother who had followed us to Sturgis in her car. 

Middles School

The school was chaotically okay. On my first day, I witnessed the first brawl in the entryway of the school.  I soon realized this was to be a daily occurrence. There were so many kids and so many bells. Since I had just finished grade school, walking to a new class each hour was very unfamiliar to me. 

I didn't make many friends at school. Everyone seemed way too busy for a lot of socialization. There were a few of us that would hit the pizza parlor uptown after school. We could buy a large slice of pizza and a soda for a dollar.

The Black Oak

Mostly, I felt very isolated. I just didn't connect with the kids. The highlight of my day was taking a walk to the old black oak tree growing in someone's yard. The first time I saw this tree I was infatuated. It was huge! Its dark, leafless, branches spiraled up the wide tree trunk, reaching for the crisp blue sky.

I couldn't resist. This tree must be climbed. The lowest branch was just about hip height to me, and I climbed onto it.  My heart was thudding in my chest. What if someone came out of that house and saw me? "I'll be fast. If I get into trouble, it will be worth it." I told myself as I grasped the branch above my head and stepped up on the branch in front of me,

The tree was like a natural spiral staircase. Each branch was just a step higher. I could easily support myself on the branches overhead or on the tree trunk. I walked all the way to the top of that tree. For a few seconds, I took in the view as the breeze made the treetop sway. Reluctantly, I climbed down and vowed to visit again.

Kilo Bit the Neighbor's Boyfriend

Our dog Kilo had been a part of my life since I was six. She grew with me, and she protected me as much as was possible for a dog to protect a child. Kilo was a Blue-heeler dingo. She had been given to my mom when we lived in Douglas, Wyoming. My mom taught school at a one-room schoolhouse on a ranch. The rancher and his children wanted to give my mom the best puppy of the litter. Kilo was nothing less than extraordinary.

In Sturgis, the mobile homes were very close to each other, and there were no yards. So, when Kilo needed to go outside, we tethered her to the front of our trailer where there was a small patch of grass. 

Our neighbor's boyfriend would antagonize Kilo any chance he got, kicking at her, or making threatening movements in her direction. Unfortunately, she'd had enough one day and when he miss-stepped into her patch of grass she bit into the calf of his leg, drawing blood.

Now, mind you, this little cattle-dog was tough and tenacious. She was a trained heeler, and I watched her take on a gigantic, 2,000-pound, bull that refused to go with the herd. He had tried to gore her with his horns, but she was too fast. Quick as a whip, she attached herself to the bull's nose. As the bull shook his head, she stayed attached, with her teeth sunk in his snout.

Finally, Kilo either let go or the bull shook her loose, and I watched my little dog fly through the air. As she landed, she was right back on the bull, nipping his heels. This time the bull did not argue. Instead, he went to join the rest of the cattle, my dog had rounded up.

So, she definitely did some damage when she bit the neighbor's boyfriend. He began threatening to sue us unless we had Kilo put down. Tearfully, my mom agreed. 

Pneumonia

As the days became shorter and colder, the community around us began to feel colder too. I kept falling ill and missed a lot of school. This furthered my sense of loneliness. At one point I decided I wanted a new hairstyle. So, I took the scissors to the bathroom and gave myself a choppy punk cut.

Around the same time, my little brother and I came down with pneumonia. He had to be hospitalized first for around a week. The doctor attempted to keep me home with antibiotics. Unfortunately, I was allergic to the antibiotic and dehydration forced me into the hospital as well.

I felt embarrassed about my new hairstyle but was too sick to worry about it much. My time spent in that tiny hospital was short-lived, thankfully, and I soon returned home.

Home Again

My grandmother was visiting us again. She told me the story of Gypsy's new home. A rancher had adopted her. She was being trained to herd sheep, and she had a special bed in the kitchen of her new home. I was welcome to visit her when I could.

My Mom, feeling the loneliness of a dogless house, bought a full-bred Siberian husky puppy. Well, we were told she was full-breed, but she may have had a bit of wolf mixed in. Whatever the case, she was papered. We named her Silver Shadow of the Black Hills. We called her Shadow. 

While all of this was happening, my mom also accepted a job offer as an on-call substitute teacher in the Deadwood area. Excitedly, she began to search the classifieds and found a single house for rent.

Let's Drive By The House

It was already late in the day, but we were excited at the possibility of living in a house. Grandmother sat in the front seat with Mom. My brother and I rode in the backseat. The 23-mile trip up Highway 14 was enjoyable. It was very mountainous filled with trees and rocks. 

As we entered Deadwood's city limits, I realized the town was as depressed as I was. Most of the shops were closed downtown. Houses stood, seemingly empty. Their windows were broken out. Yet, whisps of wood smoke curled from their chimneys. 

In the late autumn glum, there was hope. The town actually had a Taco John's. It was right across the Highway from the hospital. 

From the Highway, we took a right turn on Stewart Street. Then a right on Wabash. The house loomed amongst the tall lodgepole pines in the last rays of sunlight. It was three stories tall and painted a reddish brick color. There were trees everywhere.

After staring at the outside of the house for a few minutes, Mom turned the car around and we drove home. My brother and I protested, we didn't even get out of the car! Mom quickly calmed us, telling us we would drive back in the morning when we could see the inside.

On our way back to Sturgis, Grandma and Mom talked in low murmurs, while my brother and I dozed.

The Dream

Still groggy from my nap in the car, I went to my room and fell back to sleep. It was dream time.

In the dream, I was in a room on the upper floor of a house. I was looking at the room from above. A faint glow of light spilled across the dark room. There were two windows on either end of the room. A built-in bookshelf graced the far wall, as did a closed door. I looked down and; saw myself asleep on a bed tucked in a corner beneath a window. 

Something across the room caught my attention and I slowly turned toward it. As I did, every detail of this room was imprinted on my memories.

 Dried, white, paint, was splattered on the wood floor. This paint was in front of a homemade clothes cabinet. I knew another room was to the right of the cabinet and the spilled paint, But, it was just darkness. Another doorway, directly across from me glowed dully.

That was where the light was coming from. In the light was a shadow of a man holding a knife. Ascending the unseen stairs. My heart was pounding as the shadow rose. I spun, noticing another open doorway, and then turned to look out the window next to the bed I was lying in. 

Through the silent darkness, I noticed a light with the American flag billowing in the distance.

Going Back to Deadwood

"Melissa, wake up. We're going to look at the house," my mom called to me. The strange dream continued to swirl in and out of my thoughts. I did not feel well at all. As we got a few things together, I began telling my mom and grandmother about the odd dream. I don't remember the responses, or if there were any.

The House on Wabash

It was still early when we pulled into the driveway on Wabash. A woman was waiting in a car next to ours. As we got out the greetings began. 

The woman spoke first. "Good morning. How was your drive?" 

"Good morning. It was fine," replied my mom.

My mom was looking at the large wooden doors on the first level of the house. "Is that a garage?"

"Oh, no. That's for wood storage. You need a lot of firewood to make it through the winter up here."

The group of us walked around the house, admiring the large yard and trees. The woman let us into the house through the side door. The room was large and open, though a bit dark. It had a small table, made from a large roundish tree slab; and two chairs were next to the door by the window. On the far side of the room stood a wood stove and an old burgundy-colored rocking recliner. 

To the left of this room was the kitchen and a small bathroom. These rooms were built against the hillside, and while there was a large window in the kitchen, it was always dark in there because it was about two feet from the hill and covered by a deck upstairs. The kitchen had very high counters which seemed odd to us. It was also noted that the kitchen light had to be turned on anytime we were in the kitchen.

Walking back into the large room, she then showed us the bathroom. It was narrow with a large Clawfoot tub, a sink, and a toilet. One window looked out to the hillside, which was nearly ground level.

We then went into the front room. This room was brightly lit by the windows, yet this room never felt very inviting. Against the interior wall was a free-standing gas furnace. Its chimney shared the same flue with the woodstove in the other room. A space of about four feet by four feet acted as the entryway in the far front corner of the room. Here you could walk out the front door, or go upstairs.

The woman, leading our group went up the stairs, and we followed. The stairway was narrow and steep. Only one person could comfortably be on the steps at one time. 

When I crested the stairs and peered into the main room, I froze. 

How? Why?

The world swirled around me, as tears of confusion and fear welled in my eyes. The room was exactly as it had been in my dream. The dried white paint splatter on the floor seemed to scream at me. Everything felt like it was in slow motion and took all my strength to make myself walk into the room. 

I walked around the paint spill to peek in the front bedroom. These two rooms were the same size as the living rooms below. The brick chimney divided the shared bedroom wall.  My mother and grandmother were close enough that I could murmur, "This was my dream."

They knew it was. I was very detailed with my dream description. There was no denying this room was from my dream. 

As if on cue, the woman turned to me and said in a cheery voice, " And this will be Your Room!"

 

"Oh no, it will not!" I thought. 

Perhaps my thought was written on my face because her smile quivered. "You have an amazing view. Come and look out the window. Do you see that flag in the distance? That's our Boot Hill Cemetery. There's a light on the top of the flag pole. Every night, you can look out and see it."

What a strange thing to say. How would looking out at a cemetery make me feel calm and safe?

My little brother was running around in circles, as I was attempting to make sense of what I was seeing. How could I have seen this exact room in my dreams the night before? Why was the dream so frightening? As my mind questioned this existence, I spotted the closed door, right where I knew it would be.

I walked to the door and grabbed the doorknob. It felt secure and familiar in my hand. As I opened the door, a chill blew into the middle bedroom. To my delight, this room with a door was carpeted. It wasn't as large as the other two bedrooms, but it did have a closet. My mind grasped other details too. There was a window and another door!

My feet quickly carried me across the carpeted floor to the window I looked out onto a deck attached to the hillside. The pines on the hill rose like guardians. "Okay," I thought, "I can change the outcome of the dream if, I stay in this room."

From the doorway, I announced, "I claim the bedroom with a door!"

My mom and the woman were in the middle bedroom. They were busily discussing deposits, and when we could move in.

The woman came over and said, "Oh yeah. This room is great during the summer, but you can't sleep in here during the winter. It's an addition and it wasn't insulated. Besides, there isn't any heat in here."

Her words disturbed me, but I refused to accept them. I had to have that room if I was going to live in that house.

What Happened?

We moved into the house on Wabash. While I, was able to make the 'bedroom with a door' my room; It didn't last long. A biter-cold spell hit with temperatures dipping below -20 degrees Fahrenheit. 

I tried putting a blanket under the door to the deck because the snow would blow into my room. I even attempted to sleep in my snowsuit. In the end, I had to close my bedroom off and sleep in the bedroom from my dream. 

To my dismay, my stepfather had been released from prison and moved in with us. Eventually, a decision was made to move. My mom called my grandmother to take me.

What came of the shadow holding the knife? Well, it is difficult for me to say with absolute certainty. It would not be until I was living on my own for the first time, that it came up again. When this memory struck I was living in Cheyenne. 

Suddenly, I was 13 years old and back in the Wabash house. In this memory, I was lying in my bed. I hear a noise and see the shadow with a knife coming up the lit stairwell. I don't move. I pretend like I am asleep. I felt the weight and presence of him on top of me. The knife was against my throat. I opened my eyes and stared into his. 

"Don't make a noise. Don't scream or I'll kill your mom and you." 

With feelings of disgust, terror, and anguish, I look out the window toward the Boot Hill cemetery.  

When I was experiencing this... (flashback? ) I was bawling and shaking. I kept saying NO to the images and words projected from my mind. Eventually, I cried myself to sleep that night. Upon waking I remembered the experience, but to this day it feels like it happened to someone else. 

From what I understand, I had a repressed memory surface. Because it feels like it happened to someone else, a part of me still questions if it did. 

I drove to my grandmother's shortly after this episode. There, I confronted my mom with the "memory." She agreed it happened or probably happened. That was why she had my grandmother take me home to Laramie. At that time she, my step-father, and my brother were moving to another town in South Dakota.

***Please note, that the abuse my mother and I went through at the hands of my stepfather was terrifying and and often brutal. It took many attempts before we were able to escape it completely.

The Wabash House story will continue in future posts in other categories.