lucyoncolorado

In which I'm working at my old job...

I'm back at the job that I quit in September. I'm sitting behind a computer in E's classroom reading a non-work related blog. The students are coming in, and E says that I need to walk around and assist them with their work. I feel a little guilty that I had to be redirected. I know better than to waste time at work like that. But when I get up to help the kids, I remember the conflict I had with them and I'm embarrassed to be around them. I start to think about how much I hate the job, and I remember that I've already quit. I ask E why I'm there, and she tells me that I'm dreaming. I become lucid and decide that if I'm dreaming, I can just leave and go somewhere else. But when I walk out the door of the classroom, the dream ends.

In which my uncle and I carve up a dead cow...

I'm at my grandmother's house and my uncle and I are in the kitchen carving up a dead cow for dinner. It's really messy and we are wearing butcher's clothes, including the long, heavy black plastic apron.

In which there is a ghost in my great-grandmother's house...

I'm at my great-grandmother's house, though in the dream she is already dead. I'm in her living room sleeping on the couch, and my uncle is in the armchair nearby, reading. (I think this dream is a continuation of the previous one about the cow carcass though we are at my great-grandmother's house and not my grandma's.) My brother comes into the living room and wakes me up. He tells us that there is a ghost in the back of the house.

We go to the back bedroom which used to be my great-grandmother's bedroom. My brother and uncle ask me if I remember a ghost ever haunting the house before. They want my opinion on the matter because when I was a child, they tell me, I was a spirit-medium and frequently communicated with ghosts. (This is not true in real life, by the way, but in the dream I accepted it as true.) I told them that I did sense a presence of a hostile male ghost.

The bed is pushed up against the middle of the wall of the square room. The wall containing the door to the hall is on the left of the bed. The wall containing two windows facing the street is on the right. The wall containing the closet door is directly in front of the bed, and my great-grandfather's hospital bed is in front of it. On the closet door are stickers of drumming soldiers, partially faded with time. The way the room is set up is accurate to real life, but the stickers are actually in the guest room in real life- not in my great- grandmother's bedroom. I point them out to my uncle and brother.

"Those stickers shouldn't be here," I tell them. "They belong in the front bedroom." We go into the front bedroom to see if the stickers are where they should be, but they are not. I explain that I have only recently found out that our elder uncle B did not put the stickers there. They were there when our great-grandmother bought the house and belonged to the boy who lived here before. I told them that I think that boy's ghost is haunting the house.

They ask me if I think it could be the ghost of either of our great-grandparents, both of whom died in that house. I tell them that this is not possible because they are at peace, not wandering the earth like ghosts. I tell them that I remember feeling the ghost's presence before. That boy is now an angry young man. I explain that this is why my great-grandmother's secret bathroom has been locked up for years. He killed himself in there.

My uncle and my brother seem surprised that I know about a secret bathroom. They ask where it is, and I show them a panel on the wall which can be removed to reveal a door. We open the door and find a tiny little bathroom, so small that a large person could not fit inside. It's a scary place, and we immediately close the door and replace the panel.

Afterwards, I walk over to the two windows and turn the blinds up so that people outside cannot see in. I explain that this will prevent the ghost from entering the house again. Then I notice that there are American flags hung up on the wall between the windows. The flags are mirror image to the way they should be.

"I guess Grandmother couldn't tell that they were backwards," my uncle explains.