Raging watersAgain, I found myself in a house. Unlike the previous night, this house was set by the ocean. Cliffs of rocks, crashing of waves. Mimicking the turmoil in my heart.
I had no choice. In this dream, I lived a reality of another.
Or was this another me in a different world? The way my heart beat, the feel of my hands on my legs, my body felt as real as I breathed.
I started walking down a hallway of doors. Each with a number carefully carved in silver. Modern with a thin velvet carpet till I came upon mine.
A keypad with numbers I already knew.
I opened the door. The room inside was an expanse of space. Two floors, open-concept, with a balcony and stairs facing inwards, leading to additional doors and rooms above. A centerpiece of a wall reaching to the ceiling, carved in rocks like a majestic waterfall, dried up, and eons passed.
A living room sat under these glamorous pieces of rock, with L-shaped white sofas, and, to my left, a wall of windows to the ceiling. Beyond were the rocky cliffs and waves thundering to the shore. Surrounding the cliffs were more houses like my own. An expansive resort for the rich.
“Mommy.” A voice called out. My child, a son this time.
He wasn’t mine, but my heart knew him, though my eyes didn’t.
How long was I going to be here this time? Together, we explored the upstairs. Every room was as big and grand. Beds with plush comforters and a room with two singles and picture frames, decals of animals, sports figures, TV, console games, and a scattering of books.
Voices of them echoing down the hall, spirits playing tag. The hairs on my arms rose.
“Did you see the basement?” My son whispered to my ear. I couldn’t look at him. My back rigid as I pulled myself taller.
“No,” I replied. Finally, turning to study his face.
We weren’t the same. He was white with golden hair and blue eyes. I wasn’t.
I followed him down, passing an Onsen room with steam baths and clouded in a cave of darkness. Dull golden lights lit the floors. The sounds of water bubbling. Churns of fom floated on the water. Swirling in a myriad of patterns. Wet wood planks creaked as we walked through this heat.
My breathing was labored with heavy air. I stared at the dark pools, wondering if anyone drowned.
Was this a place where the unwanted came? The last bath. Forever melting into the waters like the angry tides calling from the base of the cliffs.
The boy led me on.
“You should see the rooftop. There’s a pothole with a telescope.” He turned to me and smiled. It felt weirdly forced. A smile never reached his beautiful, sharp eyes.
Why was I following him into the depths? Danger was waking my every step, but like a marionette, I had no control. I was a spectator in my dreams. Following along as I watched my demise.
He flung open a door to a kitchen lining the side of a wall — an old electric red stove. A 1960s yellow-green set of cupboards, sticky with bacon grease.
“Come, Mommy.” He picked up a well-used pan. “I want some bacon and pancakes.”
“Now?” I looked down at my olive skin, confused.
“Call me when you are done,” the boy said. Suddenly standing behind me with the door by his side.
“Wait!” I shouted.
The door clicked shut.
“When you are done…” his voice echoed.
I dashed to the cupboards and fridge.
Nothing. There was nothing except the pan and the smell of stale bacon grease.
“You must leave,” I said. “You can’t hide here.”
More of them arrived. Young adults in NASA emblems and others after work in their shirts, pants, and skirts. This house was their safe space, and I was asked to show my abilities.
“I’m here to watch. Just passing by.” My daughter was on my lap as I smoothed her hair. In the garden, the shadows moved. The ground was rumbling. Our motions and talking were stirring them up.
Along the hallway, others were coming. Those whom I hated.
“Please leave. The momoks are here,” I said.
“Who?” They asked.
“I don’t know if I can hold them back,” My powers weakened by my lack of faith. It didn’t matter much to me as the years progressed. Before, I believed I needed to be more powerful to survive the night. Prayers, some faith in the gods, trying to be good, hugging my stuffy, and beliefs in the powers of be.
These days, decades gone by, yes, I was defeated. I died and died and yet woke the next day. And the haunting continued into the daylight, echoing in my mind and the terrors hooked in my thoughts, but I let them be because I began to believe this is who I was.
Why fight the inevitable? Dreams came because they wanted to.
Changing them won’t take them away. Forgetting did.
“But these ghouls are nothing compared to the others,” I told them. These dozen or more characters in this mystery house, I realized, weren’t real. The more the scenes unfolded, the more my need to save them faded; my resistance mattered less.
They won’t care for me if I die, so why should I care for them?
None of these is real. Even when each breath I took was as real as I was stuck in this dusty, eerie house.
“Who?” One person asked.
“The gods.” I pointed to the garden with the low rising moon cresting the trees. A golden smiley with a ring of thin, shining light outlining its circular crown.
“Moon god. He’s hard to deal with,” I told them. “You play with your little powers and juggle those fun tricks,” I smirked at their annoyed looks.
“You think you’re special, all that’s great.” I shook my head and gestured out the window to the darkness. “Him, he’s vengeful.”
I rushed to the hallway and shut the sliding door, just as the ghouls smashed against the wood. Thundering, lashing out at the thick door. My body bashed through their onslaught, heart hammered in weakness, as we heard the ghosts screaming and growling in frustration.
The door would only hold them back briefly. In my heart, I’m praying.
Get me out of here. I’m done.
House, I’m done for tonight.
The moon god was peering at me from the garden. I felt his spiteful mirth. He was waiting for me. Blood would be shed tonight if I stayed any longer.
I hugged my fake daughter to my chest. Her warmth and my unexplainable love for her kept me worried.
“Tell my story or else,” he said in his low, sultry voice. A chilling thrill ran through my body. I don’t want to love him. The man that he was, the god he chose to be.
Please get me out of this house. I wanna go home.
The sun heats my face. The birds are chirping. I am safe.
For now.