24 September 2014

This is a dream I’ve had since I was five years old:

I am in my childhood home, but there are no windows or doors. The entire house is dark. I make my way through the blackness until I reach the living room, which is filled with glowing pink ghosts. They are moving the furniture. They pick it up, shuffle it around, and set it down again. This goes on endlessly. They don’t hurt me or say anything to me—they just silently pick up the couch and the chairs and the tables and put them in places where they do not belong.