I’ve been wanting to introduce a feature to the Broodhollow site for a while, something to appear here on non-update days Tuesday and Thursday. Dreams are one of my favorite subjects. I have had a lot of dreams, and for years I’ve written most of them down. At this point I prefer to have nightmares, because they’re more lasting and generally have more hooks for stories.

Scott’s brother Brian and I are walking down the arched, stucco hallway of an old building at a college. Brian pulls my arm and says, “come on, check this out, Kris.” We turn down another corridor and approach an old wooden door.

Brian calls out, “hey, Grin?” At first, I thought he had said “Gram,” like a nickname for a grandma, but there is red thread here, stitched directly into one of the walls, that looks like a smile.

An old woman opens the door and turns away, back into the room, before I can see her face. All I can see from the back is wispy white hair and a long, gauzy house-dress. She has a mystical aspect about her, like she also practices crystal healing. Brian and I enter. Inside, this looks like a professor’s office that’s been converted into a living space. Books are scattered everywhere. A long leather couch lines one wall beneath a Venetian-blinded picture window. Through the blinds, I can see it’s nighttime.

Brian motions for me to join him at the window. “Okay, now look down there.”

Beyond the frame of the window, it’s pitch-black all around, except for one spot. The only light in any direction comes from a street light above a small playground some four hundred yards down the hill. Beside the sandbox, on a concrete slab beneath the light, stands a stark-white muscular figure with a demonic face, and at least three arms and three legs. It’s not a statue, or a man in costume. It is alive.

We look at it for about two or three seconds when it suddenly vanishes.

“See, that’s what happened the last time!” Brian says. “It just disappears after you look at it.”

“Oh no, it never just disappears,” Grin says. “It’s up here now.”

A huge white shape moves across the other side of the glass and now stands directly in front of the picture window. I don’t look at it for any longer than one terrible instant; I shut my eyes tight, having seen only enough to tell me that it is almost upon us.

Grin says, “Now, as long as you stay here” — I fully expect her to say that we would be safe in this room, but she continues — “it’s extremely dangerous. You must leave. Now.”

As is traditional in my dreams, I begin to wake up and realize I’m in my own bed at home, but the remainder of sleep paralysis makes me think I’m being pressed into my bed by an unseen force.

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