The last thing I remember is that I was playing a game. It felt like a game to me, but I feel like for the other random people in the dream that it was very real to them. I was alone, and I was a supposed thief or murderer. On the outside, the house looked like an abandoned house. Its foundation was crumbling like stiff, stale bread. The house had an outward look of a banana, the paint yellowing, sometimes chipped to reveal dark brown grooves in the wood, and peeling. I think I was half-lucid whilst dreaming… I knew I shouldn’t be breaking into a house, but I was intrigued because there was a light illuminating an upstairs window from the inside. The wind, howling and cursing its way through the air, blew through my hair, causing chills and goose bumps to form on the back of my neck and along my arms. I shivered and was miserable in the cold. I stumbled upon the first step of the porch, but continued up, dodging a jagged nail sticking up from the plywood. I checked under the purple shag house mat to find an ordinary silver key about the size of my pinkie. I put the key in the lock, twisted the doorknob slowly, pushed the door open wide, and meandered into the parlor. There were dark woods, orange and red pillows decorating a brown couch, worn from use. The fireplace was eerily black, cold, and calculated. The chimney flume must have been breached, because the freezing steel breeze encompassed the room. I lightly stepped around a broken urn and video game console cords to find myself on the stairs, heading closer to the light I could see faintly touching the upstairs hallway. The stairs were of a deep oak, burgundy carpet lining them. I placed my hand sternly on the handrail and took a deep breath. My heart was hurting, but I don’t remember why. One slow step at a time, I ascended the staircase. I was paranoid. Every hard cord of muscle, every fortified bone, every molecular atom in me felt unsafe. I couldn’t hide with my back against a wall. I had to keep swiveling my whole body because I felt unsafe. It was a cold, black, pulsating feeling of dread. The edges of the monstrous picture frames seemed sharp on inspection, and I had a feeling like they were all going to fall on me, one by one, like a preconceived booby trap. I remember searching my pants pocket for some Chap Stick, and it was Chap Stick for a minute, but in my hand it became ash. After wiping my hands on my pants thigh repeatedly, I continued up the stairs. When I reached the top, I felt something glide across the back of my neck. I jumped and turned in a heartbeat, to notice nothing there. I chalked it up to my long hair brushing my neck as I took the last lurching step to the top. I walked fast, endlessly searching for that light, peering behind me into the darkness with every other step. I made it to the room with the light. I slammed the door shut behind me and ran to the other side of the lit room until my back was against the wall and I could see everything in front of me. No one was in the room. It was a small, modern room. It seemed like a teenage girl’s room. “You’re supposed to kill this girl,” my mind whispered to me. But, this was just hide-n-seek, right? The room had a twin bed covered with a pink comforter and violet pillows. I noticed the bedside table had a lamp, pencil, notebook, and an iPhone face down. I saw a small, white door on the ceiling over her bed. I tried to stand up on top of her bed, but continued to loose traction. Finally I stabilized. I pulled open the mysterious door, and found a black pit. The house shifted and I was upside down and falling into the ceiling door and then…

My alarm woke me up at 7:18am this morning.