The House

By Monica Knight

Ever since I was a little girl, I've had this recurring dream about a very large house built into the side of a huge canyon. It reminded me of the Grand Canyon, though I've only seen pictures and never actually been there.

The house had extra long windows on each level. So long, in fact, that I didn't like to get too close to them for fear of falling out into the canyon. I believe there were three levels. At least that's all I ever explored. I never seemed to dream how it was exactly that I got to the house because it would always start out with me looking out over the canyon at it, just like you would at the Grand Canyon, and then, the next thing I knew, I was inside the house. There was never anyone there. I was always alone.

The middle floor was where I usually started out. It was decorated very glamorously and reminded me of somewhere that Marilyn Monroe would have lived. But, for some reason, I knew no one was living there now. It felt very empty, yet not threatening. And, in a way, it seemed sad. All the beauty of it was going to waste because there was no one there to love it.

The top floor (or what I thought was the top floor, there could have been more) was decorated much the same as the mid-level. The only difference was that everything was covered with sheets and dust. No one had occupied this level in many, many years. It was much darker on this level and kind of scary. I would not have even been on this level had I not been so intrigued with what was under those sheets! The furnishings were brilliant! It seemed such a pity that no one was enjoying them. I wondered why there were no pictures of the former occupants. The house seemed so empty, though it was fully furnished.

I didn't care much for the bottom level. It was more like a dungeon in many places. There were tunnels that ran underneath the house and water dripped on me in many places. I could actually feel the wetness still on my body when I woke from being on this level. That is, I felt cold in spots. And, the funny things is, I would usually get very ill after I dreamt of this level. Usually a head or chest cold.

There were open spots on this level. Spots where I could actually see daylight, though it was always overcast outside. The sun was never shining when I was on the bottom level, and to tell you the truth, I don't even know what I was doing there because I could have walked away through one of the many open spots at any time. But, for some reason, I felt responsible for the house. Like I had to know every nook and cranny of it, and I would travel these stone and brick tunnels on and on - never finding anything but more bricks and tunnels. I have no idea why I kept going. I just felt like it was my duty for some odd reason. It wasn't as creepy as the top floor, but it was definitely as depressing. I usually dreamt of this level during difficult times in my life.

I have never understood why I dreamt of this house, but I'm sure there's a logical reason. Perhaps it symbolizes different stages in my life, or it was my body's way of forewarning me of illness. All I know is, though it was odd, it still felt familiar. The house was actually my house symbolically. And, it still is (in dreamland anyway). I hope one day I can bring it to life. Like I said, it is a recurring dream, so we'll see...