� 2001-2006 by Shiloh
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I did record the dream as I said I would. It's been over a year since I've recorded any in that journal. Some I've recorded here instead, others I couldn't remember or thought were unimportant so they were never written down. In talking with Heather the other day I thought I have been just going through a streak of weird dreams--the weirdest I've had yet. I was wrong. In thumbing to the end of my dream journal to add a blank page in which to write the newest adventure down, I came across some weird ones to rival my latest. Even the alien one. And guess what? There's even one of a ghost. Yessir, and that gave me the idea of just going with the flow regarding ghosts. Collect other stories round me about them to see if they spark a glimmer of a plot in my brain. I've given up hope that more "experiences" will come my way soon to provide inspiration for my story. John was kind enough, author to author, to share a link that shows or tells of strategies to help get the juices flowin'.
Writing seems to be an epidemic lately. I'm tryin' to get this ghostly short story/novel going based on true events, Johns's got a novel going or at least brewing, and now Heather's jumping on the bandwagon. (*a teasing aside to Heather* Oh sure, I talk of writing a short story, but it's only when a man mentions it you're suddenly inspired. I see how it is. Uh huh. *winks*)
Here's the dream:
January 7, 2000I know it's a bit intimate, but I'm only human... =osThis had to be one of the oddest dreams/nightscares I've ever had. It was of a ghost, and the reason I called it a nightscare is it wasn't really a nightmare. I was scared in the dream, but not terrified like I am from many nightmares. As I said, it was of an apparition haunting either the house I was living in, or my parents' or my friend's house. Come to think of it, the place may have been my parents'. I had gone over there, I think, for a party. The dream really started after that though. For some reason I was on my parents' bed in one of my skimpiest nightshirts. The nightshirt is green and has Santa sitting on a bed in candy cane striped pajamas. He has his arms wrapped around a deer and below the picture are the words in blue, "Tight With a Buck." Holly and berries decorate the saying at one corner. I lay on my stomach across the bed, looking at a magazine or something. A friend of mine lounged on the bed diagonally to me, and we were arguing about whether or not the house was haunted. I insisted there were no ghosts in the place, while she vouched there was. "No," I was adamant. "There's no such thing as ghosts. There are none here; I should know!" I was disdainful. Yet it chilled me to think of an apparition in the place. In the dream a part of my mind stayed apart from the story, so it was like I was both spectator and actor. It was strange, and many of my dreams are like that. My mind made note that I normally do believe in ghosts, so why was I the one to insist on no ghosts? My friend said, "Oh yes, there is. He died in this house. Hung himself."
We argued some more until she continued, "He's gonna call you and prove it. He'll show you." That sent a foreboding chill up and down my spine. And I tried scooting off the bed to get away from her. But she held out the phone as if it had rung, and I stared at her in horror. My hand seemed to reach for it of its own volition. I must say he had a nice voice, almost seductive. Yet if he hung himself, I thought, he was not one you'd want to get caught up in voice-wise or in any manner for that matter. "H-hello?" my voice quivered.
"I'm coming for you. I'm going to show I'm real enough." Well, he was spectar enough, but instead of having me cowering from poltergeist powers, the ghost tried to seduce me! I was going to scramble off the bed and hightail it out of there before he showed up. Of course, he appeared even as I dropped the phone. He lay on the bed, trapping me in his arms against his body and the bedspread. Then, he slowly moved his hand back and down to draw the edge of my shirt up to cup my bottom. I was shocked yet I allowed him to seduce me. My pjs hit mid-thigh, so it was very easy to be loved. The man had brown hair and brown eyes. He wasn't bad looking, but it was definitely a strange dream if I made love with a flipping ghost.
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