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Alright, just a forward, this story is completely true. I don't believe in the paranormal, nor that there is some meaning behind dreams. I had this dream a few months ago, and I recently recalled it to a friend, and he was utterly disturbed by it. So, what better place, then to bring it here.
My name is Brandon.
That's all you really need to know about me, right?
The dream started very dull. Very boring. I was walking down a sidewalk street, some subdivision I had not recognized. Next to me was a friend. Or rather, what I assumed to be a friend. I did not recognize them in this dream. I could not tell who they were in particular, nor if they were male or female. Anyways, the dream was just a straight forward walk. Me and The Friend walking, and conversing on subject I do not remember.
As we continued, the grass became more and more noticeably untidy. As if the more we progressed, the less care was taken into consideration for the lawns. Eventually we came to a gate. It was a rusted gate, about waist high, matching in height with the much needed untrimmed grass. A little ways passed the gate, we came across a house.
The house was the most memorable part of this whole dream. It was a gray color with the paint literally peeling off of it. The house was rugged, and definitely old. The vines, and mold, and moss that grew up and down its walls gave the illusion of color. The porch was no better. One of the pillars holding it together was badly damaged, barely standing up right. The window to the glass pane on the door was cracked, and chipped allowing you to view into the darkness inside the house. It was a two story home, the stairs of it located somewhere deep inside the disturbing home. It was obviously abandoned.
Upon viewing it, and taking in every detail of the house; Every crack, vine, insect and glass shard, we continued walking, me and The Friend. Upon reaching the end of the sidewalk, I felt a sudden urge to gaze back at the home, but the voice from my companion whispered to me, "Don't turn back." And I woke up with a jolt.
But, what makes this story more disturbing was not the fact of the creepy house, but of the fact it happened again.
The very next night after falling asleep, I was put into the same scenario as the previous night, but without The Friend. Walking down the sidewalk, passed the grass, passed the gate, and gazing back to the ancient house, unchanged by time. But still, I continued until the end of the sidewalk. Again, the urge came back, but this time The Friend was not there to tell me what to do. I looked back, back to that damned house. But, I woke up.
I never have reoccurring dreams, let alone nightmares.
But, here's where it got worse.
I had the dream again, for the third time. Same exact events from the others, without The Friend. Sidewalk. Grass. Fence. Gate. But this time, the gate was open. Open for me to walk in. So, I looked for my faceless companion. They were not there. I took a step inside onto the pathway leading up to the doorway. I wish I hadn't.
Immediately, I heard an infant crying. It was coming from the second story room over hanging the garage. It was screaming as though it had lost it's mother. I looked up into the window, but could not see a thing. Suddenly, the most horrific sound imaginable followed. As if the baby was being assaulted by a blunt object to stop it's cries for help, a constant THWACK! could be heard from upstairs. Continuous beatings slammed against the child as its cries became louder as it grew in pain. It went silent. Disturbed by the bellowing, I ran. Back on to the sidewalk, running the direction I came, I just stopped. I woke up.
I never had the dream again.