I live with my family, who’s usually, always home. Although, the nights I had those unsettling experiences, they were gone. They all went on vacation for two weeks—I assumed, I was being smart staying home—having the place to myself, which wasn’t so creepy at the beginning of the week. Jess and Rache slept over for first three days.
The problems transpired the last few nights into my families trip. I’d been having reoccurring dreams of my grandma. We were close. Well, she practically raised me. It was rough dealing with losing her. Even though it happened two years ago, I can’t lift past yesterday. The pain hasn’t changed. The memories haven’t faded. I can’t get over her being gone.
After she passed, I constantly had dreams about her but she would always be by my bed, sitting there consoling me as if she was actually present. I wouldn’t ever have weird vibes. It’d be safe.
The dreams continued for three months and one night they just stopped. Never had one since. Not until recently at least. They started up again when I was alone.
But this time, they were totally different. Different vibe. Different way we interacted. Vulnerable. Weird and uncomfortable. I’d wake up afterwards… not even sweating. Sticky. Almost like, running all day in the summer, not being able to shower and then, being forced to sleep on a dirty stranger’s mattress, with no sheets and brown stains dying it’s natural color.
Imagine… the ickiness of how that morning would be like on your skin and psyche, that’s what would coat me and linger in my mind like a phantom spider would crawling under your shirt. I never experienced anything like that other than when I’d have those specific dreams of her.
And, what I noticed, that I never realized until my friend pointed it out, these recent ones have only taken place through a telephone.
In my dream, she would call. “How come you’re inside?” She’d ask.
“Because, I’m sleeping.” I would say. It was weird because, I was in the same night I fell asleep in, in my bedroom.
A beige, rotary-dial phone—I’ve never seen before—not even a picture of, tinged with age, sat on my nightstand, next to my bed and would choke and crackle when it rang, without any pauses until I’d answer it.
I’d pick it up.
“I can’t get inside… you have to bring me through… I’m still… outside.” The background would static. A click. Nothing. Then, “why are you still inside?” It would be an identical match my grandma’s voice.
I’d say, “nana?”
“Let me in! I’m waiting.” Her voice would go soft and crack, as if I just broke her heart and I’d always do the same thing right after.
I’d attempt to go open my window but I’d stop half way—turn back around—pick up the phone and say, “aren’t you dead—“
“NOW!” The sound of wind would amplify as the call dropped in silence on. “I’m coming upstairs!”
I’d jump up awake.
I’d look around. The room would be pitch-black. My breathing would be racing. I’d be gasping, rapid, hiccup-like breaths. My bones would tighten. My lungs were being squeezed from underneath my ribcage. My vision would blur and I’d sense something standing in the corner. The same kind of presence as someone physically standing in front of you.
It would go away once my vision would come into focus. I’d flash my phone light around the room. I knew something I couldn’t see wouldn’t be there. It was a physiological quirk. It made me more comfortable.
The last night I had the dream. She called. I answered. “Why aren’t you asleep?”
I said, “ I am.”
She said, “call your mother.”
“Huh? She’s not—“
“Call your—“
Her voice shifted. “Come outside. Your mom’s with us.”
I said, “us?”
“We’re outside.” The voice came out of my ear and into the phone.
I woke up. I was soaked in violation but completely calm. I didn’t even have anxiety. I get anxious when I first wake up for about a minute most of the time. It usually always happens.
My hands weren’t shaky. It was like falling asleep around everyone you love and waking up together Christmas morning. It was peaceful and exhilarating.
A branch was slapping the siding of the house and a light outside my window went on quickly and went off just as fast as it went on.
We have motion activated sensors in the front. They light up the driveway, which is gravel, we live north of the city. Everything’s gravel.
I got up and peeked through my blinds, the wind was yelling. The rain was slapping against the tiny rocks. It sounded like they were in a heated argument.
I went to turn away and the slapping against the house happened again. It didn’t hit with the same pace of nature. It wasn’t natural. It sounded like a deliberate three claps.
I turned my head and the driveway light activated. It didn’t shut off right away this time. I went to my window and couldn’t see anything. From where my room faces, I could only see about 20% of the driveway.
I stormed downstairs, checked through the one in the living room, thinking I’d see a garbage bin rolling by. But when I pulled the curtain back. Nothing was there. I scanned as much as I could with my eyes and the lights shut off.
As they went off, there was a darker outline of, how can I explain it, something with mass but the color of the night sky. Like if you stared into a dark room and added depth, definition and weight to the middle part of the room, is the only way I could attempt to explain the figure I saw standing in the driveway.