So our hometown of Ashwin has this large, old abandoned asylum that sits on the outskirts of town. It has long been forgotten and is now home to many different parties that my fellow classmates, older and younger, like to attend. Empty beer bottles have become a permanent part of the building’s decor and more than once, a cop has caught some students passed out within the empty, decaying halls.
And while the entire thing looks like something out of a horror movie, I can’t help but love the eery calm that seems to settle around the building during the day. It has definitely become one of my favorite hideaways when school or home becomes too much. To the point where, in the far back corner of the fenced-in backyard, I have taken to growing some flowers.
Now, why am I mentioning this? Because I had the freakiest dream last night.
It started out normal. I was merely tending to my flowers, as usual, the sun high in the sky and warm. Large, fluffy white clouds moved lazily above me and a gentle breeze shifts my flowers back and forth. Boxelder bugs and Asain beetles zooming too and fro and actually leaving me alone.
After pulling some pesky weeds that were starting to grow, I sat up to stretch my back. And you know who you get this weird chill when someone is watching you? That feeling hit me like a ton of bricks. It didn’t feel malicious, merely creepy and unsettling.
Something in my gut told me to look up at the second-story window and when I did, my stomach sank. A tall shadow-like figure was standing there. Watching me. I couldn’t see their face or even what they were wearing, but my gut was telling me that they shouldn’t be there. That they were not a classmate of mine here to located a lost wallet or piece of jewelry from the party the night before.
The figure stood still, watching me for what felt like forever. I knew that I shouldn’t be staring back, but for some reason, I couldn’t look away. Suddenly, the figure lifted their hand and beckoned for me to join them up on the second floor.
That’s when the eery calm that the asylum usually houses vanished and was replaced with a sense of unease and with the strong need to get out of there. The only problem is that the only way to leave the backyard is to cut through the building. There used to be a hole in the fence but the city boarded it up after one of the parties with cement and nobody has tried to break it. And my gut was telling me that entering the asylum, even on the main floor, was a bad idea as long as that figure was in there.
As if becoming impatient, the figure started motioning faster and I don’t know what possessed me, but I shook my head ‘no’ and pointed to my bed of flowers. Trying to get across that I wasn’t done yet.
And that is when everything shifted. The warm sun vanished and dark swirling clouds replaced the light fluffy clouds lazily drifting by. A harsh, blowing wind howls across the yard.
My first thought was that there had been no mention of rain today on the news before I had enough sense to glance back up at where the figure was standing.
My heart pounded as my mind started screaming that I needed to leave right at that moment. That, if the figure came down here, it would not end well for me. Panicking, I stood from my flower bed and sprinted for the door. I made it ten yards before the door slammed open and there stood the figure. A sick pit formed in my stomach as I started walking backward. I managed four steps before my back hits something warm and solid. Hands land on my shoulders and when they squeezed, I spun around in a panic.
Only to wake up to my alarm blaring “History Maker” from “Yuri on Ice”.
It has been a long time since I have had a dream that vivid and my heart is still pounding just thinking about it. My creative writing teacher has suggested starting to write my dreams down and this was the first one that I have actually been able to remember in a long time. I do wonder who that figure was supposed to be or even represent. I have never been good with that dream psychology stuff, even if it is interesting.
