I was running back to the house. It was pitch dark, and rain was pouring down in sheets. “It’s too dark.” I thought, slipping and catching myself. “It rains too much. It should not rain this much. It’s summer!” The storm had come suddenly; too quickly for me to return home from my walk in time. I could hear the trees around the house creaking and groaning. The wind whipped through the branches, making sounds as ominous as the incessant thunder. I saw the lights of the house with relief. I’d torn my gown and ruined my shoes, and I was cold, wet and hungry. I bolted through the garden door and closed it behind me. The moment I entered the house, I knew something was terribly wrong.
That unsurmountable dread woke me. It also annoyed me.
“Get a grip”. I told myself. “It’s a dream. It’s ridiculous that you’re going to let your dreams control how you feel now apart from the actual stuff you have going on in your life. Who cares what happened in the house? Just stop.”
I did care. I wished I just knew what happened. What was it about the house that creeped me out so much? I was positive I hadn’t seen the house in real life. I’d never been to England, nor seen it in a movie. I’d never seen that place either.
Nam either didn’t think too much of the dream, or didn’t think more discussion would help my state of mind. I did notice that she tried to set me up with more guys in the next few weeks. Being blissfully in a relationship, she seemed to think the best way to peace of mind for me would be to be in a blissful relationship as well. It would have been cute if it hadn’t been so aggravating.
I didn’t get the dream again. I almost even tried to remember it; to make myself dream the next part of the story. But I couldn’t. It slowly stopped mattering to me. Work took most of my time, and the rest was given to whomever Nam had decided was ‘the perfect guy’ for me that week.
Life was normal again.