Dream

There's a huge, abandoned mansion somewhere near my house -- possibly in Hillsborough. Every detail has been meticulously recreated into its authentic 19th century beauty... libraries filled with old books, rooms filled with antique beds perfectly made, beautiful antique claw-footed bathtubs and chandeliers all over the house. For reasons unknown it has been abandoned, though... it looked like it used to be a museum or a tourist spot. It reminded me of the Carolands mansion.

I'd been going there for a while to be alone, as I will do with strange spots I think only I know about. It was easy to break into and for some reason I didn't believe the rumors that it was haunted. One day I walk in and feel like I'm not alone. I walk into a room that's emitting noise and my brother is laying on the bed watching television. I have no idea how a TV got into this old house, but I don't question it. We talk for awhile and watch TV like it's a completely mundane day.

The cops come. They accuse us of destroying the place (apparently the mansion had been stricken by vandals/thieves recently) and try to arrest us. I tell them it's impossible that we had done it, because we hadn't been upstairs where the damage existed. THEN, for some bizarre and unknown reason, I start moving things with my mind, like Stephen King's Carrie. The entire mansion, top to bottom, is restored to its pristine condition.

THEN... I start screaming at the top of my lungs, for a long, long time. As I am screaming, every book in the house is rearranged into its corresponding color group. I tell my brother, who is standing next to me, to help. Apparently the gene that allows me to scream like a banshee and move things with my mind has been given to him, as well. The cops are impressed and let us go.

Fin.

I cannot even begin to decipher what this is all about. Not only did I not take any hallucinogens the night before, there is nothing in this dream that relates to anything I did yesterday.

(picture is from here)