Swallowed Alive by the Dolls

 

4/1

  Frankie slept curled up behind me. It is lucky for me that he didn’t eat my epic nightmare that is, for sure, a favorite. It took place in the old house in Oakland, as dreams often do. That place is still trying to suck me back. Annie was there, as well as my ex, Paul. We were having a movie night. It was dark, and the room was open. Annie was sitting on a shelf on the right hand side. I had brought snacks, ready for the film, when Annie asked if she could have a cup of tea. I went into the kitchen to find a teacup. It was a big chunky antique red, white, and blue teapot. As I washed it in the stainless steel sink three tiny dolphins, no bigger than minnows, swirled at the bottom before disappearing down the drain. When I say dolphins, I mean, the antique decorative sort found in Italian fountains, lamps, and old maps, with big bulging eyes, and top fin skull caps. They were dark gray, very slick. When I brought Annie’s tea to her I passed an open green swamp with an alligator and small dinosaur rising out from the duckweed. Annie was not impressed with her tea. She chatted with Paul about how Jay liked fat chicks. There were others watching the film; I watched some of them ascend the stairs to the left and followed. Upstairs was brighter and very Victorian. There were dolls everywhere, and more coming in. Mostly they looked like turn of the century German china head dolls, but there were milliner’s models, and mannikins, all sizes, some bigger than me. Some were wooden. They were all dressed like Victorians. The ladies wore long gowns with full skirts, fitted waists, and puffed sleeves. The gentlemen had slicked black hair, mustaches, and wore black tuxedos. What’s more, they were alive. They did not move very fast, nor did they seem very smart, but they were all moving, and the group continued to grow. I told them that they should not be up there and had to go. They ignored me. They knew that I was there, they were defying me. I started yelling at them, feeling pretty stupid, but there were so many that I was alarmed. Still, nothing. That’s when I started to push them, then hit them. When that didn’t work I began to hit them in the head, hard, with whatever I could grab as a weapon, intending to knock their heads off. I did not care that they were antiques. One of the ladies finally spoke, telling me that I wasn’t very Christian. They all were piled up on top of me by the end. I did not care, I gave up. I was swallowed alive by the dolls.

Dana's Dreams

Dana's Dreams Two

 

Frankie by Firelight & More DREAMS

  
 2/8

  Terribly sick again last night, so loads of dreams to report. I have to go through my notebook and figure out the four pages of purple scratchings. The first is the hardest, of course. We must have several dream sessions throughout the sleep pattern, three or four. The first dream is usually short, and they get longer. The first dream took place in Oakland, Mummy and Daddy were there. It involved a coffee maker and maybe a woman and a desert or dry creek bed that I’m trying to remember. My coffee maker was stolen, and Alex came. My hair was cut in a short bob, shorter and darker than high school, and I wore tight faded jeans. I confronted a man, a dream person, trying to cuss him out, but the words were stuck in my throat. Only a wheeze escaped. He called me something like a dumbass of a roarer. 

  It gets better. I was in Gettysburg with Mummy, Daddy, and Susan. What I remember first is driving around with Mummy and Daddy and looking for my inn, something like Longwood Inn, but there was some confusion that I’ll come back to. We passed it, a big cream with brown shutters and trim sprawling two storey, and another grand pink brick Georgian style, maybe the Kensington Arms, or something of the like. It was suburbia; then we came to town. I realized now that it was hot, June. We boarded a scenic railway. I was sitting next to Daddy, and Mummy sat across from me. Mummy and I were discussing some up and coming Poe movie that was soon to be released. Daddy was picking at the corner of a postcard with a white carousel horse that began to play an old ragtime music box tune, Beautiful Dreamer.  I told him that Longwood, the same man that the inn was associated with, had carved the Kennywood carousel horse and written the tune. He was very impressed. We were talking about the hotels, and I told him that at The Kensington Arms you had to share a bed with two other people. He said that was not good unless you were a pervert. He might’ve remained on the train, but Mummy and I met with Susan and went to a book shop where Mummy bought me three books: a little paperback, a magazine, and a slender coffee table sized hardback with a shiny dust jacket. The paperback was pale blue with a rough cardstock, felt like, cover. There was a simple portrait sketch of the actress in the Poe film done in magenta ink. The magazine also covered the same movie that we were all interested in. I later gave Mummy back the eighty dollars that she had spent in the book shop. Going back to my notebook, I see that while I was taking the cash for Mummy out of my little leather and tapestry zipped purse, I remembered that I already had a room at The Farnsworth House, The Eisenhower suite. Meanwhile Susan was talking about all of the money that she had spent at the dentist. I told her about my ten thousand dollar mouth. Mummy was surprised. When we got to The Farnsworth House, however, the clerk, a white man in a tan, short -sleeved shirt and brown pants, told me that my room was not booked. I told him to check under Ron’s name. I woke up at this point because Frankie was throwing up. As I was sick watching Aquarius last night the Mansons were dumpster diving for food. At the same time Sir Frankie Crisp was rummaging through the powder room trash. I usually keep that door shut from him, but I was sick. 

  Now I had gone up to bed at 7:30 am, and had the third epic dream. I need another cup of coffee, so glad to have kept the first down. I was in school, post grad, only in a small golden lit posh shopping mall. It began with me in a crowded locker room where I could not remember the lock combination for my little white locker. The numbers were marked in red, and I was surprised that the lock opened only I still did not have my schedule, (a computer print-out I could see in my mind’s eye that I was trying to remember, gray block computer numbers, only three or four classes, three, I think), or my books. The problem was that I had missed some classes. It was still early in the semester. Still, I went to my first class that took place in a top notch men's suit store: nothing but dark wood shelves holding dress pants, shirts, ties, and jackets. There was a long glossed wooden table where my class met. The professor was a young woman who said that she’d wanted the fancy green tea that I was drinking. We all had special teas in swank glassware: concoctions with ice and foam. She called me a gypsy, I could tell she liked me a lot. One of my old students, Westley, was in this class, at the table, with me. At one point we got up from our seats and were standing in the shop. I dropped my brown crochet light, long sweater on the floor. A light skinned black girl with ponytails had her yellow t shirt with a pink sunflower over her face, so that it looked like she wore a lion mask. I asked if she was a Leo, and she was. The professor was delighted and impressed. The shop owner, a faceless cardboard cutout dressed in a real good suit, with a name tag was talking to me. He also was impressed. Seemed the mall had been losing business, so they started sharing classes there. Nothing seemed that big of a deal at the time. After class Westley and I wandered the mall for something to eat. First I got onion rings, really good, big fried rings on a long rectangular cardboard  tray, but it didn’t stop there. Westley got some chicken, and we also had popcorn and maybe even pizza. I had a big bag of leftovers and offered them to a boy, but said that I would take some of the popcorn and pizza, I think, home. He tried to pay me, but his cash was fake paper napkins. Westley and I walked on. He was talking about his law degree, and I said that my friend, Rick, also had his law degree but was not practicing. I saw my old boyfriend Curt, again, only this time he was dressed in brown. He was young and tan and ducked back into a womens’ clothes store. Now a Prince cover was singing from behind some colorful kiddie play balls. There was a big Asian girl who showed me a Peter Pan themed amusement that they were in the process of removing. It had an unplugged neon sign and waterfall. I was sorry I had missed it. We ascended the aqua blue plastic waterfall. The water had been turned off. There were also some leftover Caspar items. She wound a little plastic toy up, and it spun round her hand. There was another Caspar themed plastic napkin ring? I took it. It was time for my next class, and I was hoping I got it right. It was in a bigger open shop that seemed to be for Asian imports and crafts. The class wore colorful paper animal masks and were speaking in German. I was totally lost. The instructor and students let me know that I was in the wrong class, and I was starting to get worried. I wondered what I was doing there. I told myself that I already had a master’s and teaching degree. Faux Prince was still singing when I reached up to take a plush pink flamingo that was in a furry pink ring shape. There were other animals like it hanging near the play balls in a sort of net set up. When I noticed a crowd watching me, I left it, and they were singing a ditty, making fun of me for not belonging at the mall, and trying to steal the flamingo prize when I woke up.

Dana's Dreams

Sick Dreams

 2/6

  Due to staying up all night watching Aquarius and finishing off a bottle of cheap guinea pinot grigio I was too lazy to write down my first couple of dreams that came with the ice storm. No worries, the third made up for them all. I was back in the house in Oakland only it was different, and there were other occupants including an old balding man. The place had a massive attic, and the old man opened up a grocery store up there. He said it was always his dream. I was flabbergasted by the bins of fresh fruits and vegetables: peppers and bananas. There was a keg of chardonnay, and I filled my fishbowl glass from the floor. But there was more, a lot more. At the far concrete block wall was a set of restrooms and an elevator. Beyond that was another room, a Christmas room, brimming with decorated trees with baskets of ceramics, ornaments, and crafts on the floor. I saw Mummy and Daddy, and none of us could believe it. Daddy was a bit overcome with it all and just sat and rested. The old man took me back to the front of the attic where there was a little room with a window that led out to sea. On a deck were a group of native fishermen and the water was swarming with black and white fish about the size of bluegills with fangs like a terrier. Dreaming, I knew their name, something like spelt. They were thrashing against the glass and broke through, three of them were flopping on the floor. There were a couple other women standing against the wall. I left the room having to use the bathroom. The bathrooms were a surprise: three of them, all different. The third was big for handicapped and pretty standard, but the first two were decorated with wreaths of raffia with red ribbons, hand towels, and other country decor. The first one had a shower with a plastic curtain. None of them locked, however, so I couldn’t use them. Mummy was there, using the second restroom. After leaving I wanted to go downstairs as I knew there were more bathrooms there. First I ran into Tim. He asked me if I could get him a Mountain Dew, and I told them they had Dr. Pepper. Then I met my brother and told him about the natives and fish. There were all sorts of cardboard boxes lining the wall full of an assortment of things including Red Witch who I took. I was wondering what she was doing there and if the old man had looted my dollhouses, only I could not remember seeing them. Then I came upon a girl, who I knew; she told me she was with a guy who I had dumped while taking a bath. I told her that was not how it happened as I was picturing it in my mind: I was in a clawfoot bathtub frothy with bubbles. My hair was tied back, and I had a natural sea sponge. Jess from Gilmore Girls came in, and I told him to get lost or something of the like. Then he, Jess, joined the girl. He was wearing a long dark wool coat and a red scarf. I still had to go to the bathroom, which is common in my dreams because I really have to go. 😂 That’s when I met Matt Koett. I showed him Red Witch, and he asked about the other dolls. I said that I didn’t know that I’d only found Red Witch. I finally reached the elevators where there was a girl with red hair that I’d known in the dream. She was selling fresh vegetables like green peppers and had a sign on her stand that read Live Oats. We spoke for a bit, and I moved on to where a woman was standing at the elevators complaining about missing her flight due to the monstrous market. There was a wall of stuffed animals like pink Squishmallows and lots more behind her when I woke up because I  had to go to the bathroom. 

2/7

  Very sick last night, so I did not dream until morning. I was at a class reunion. It began beneath a yellow and white tent where I was with some dream people that I knew when Janeen joined us, cute and chatty as ever. After she had gone John  came in, and when he heard that Janeen had just been there he said that she was such a slut. I told him that I’d heard the same about him, so he left. I was folding a burgundy satin sleeveless gown and a little black sequined shrug in the back corner that I had planned to wear to the outdoor ball later. Then there was a sort of alumni variety show. Theresa was there afterwards although she wasn’t in my class, which I hadn’t thought of. There were others, dream people, that I don’t really know. Theresa and I were in a dark sort of alcove, a place where two doors met. Curt, dressed in black, came in and stood against the door. He was trying to get my attention, “Dana… Dana”, but I was talking to somebody and had my back towards him. He got huffy and left. Theresa said that he was rude as usual. I told her that he had gotten snippy with Susan lately too. Now we had a kind of This is Your Life spread. It looked like a flea market, (I dream about them a lot), but the items were not for sale, they only represented our lives. I was talking to a woman who at first I did not remember, Cindy, maybe. She was accompanied by an older woman with black tied back hair, dressed in gypsy like silk skirts, her aunt. There was a black and white eight by ten photograph of her with her late parents. Supposedly she was some sort of debutante or lesser royalty. She had silk dolls that her aunt had made. When it got time to pack our stuff up and put it away I was helping her. Then I remembered having met her when we were teenagers. I put a little box with yellow and orange plastic gems in a box and taped it up. Her aunt said that it was cheap, and that she hadn’t made it, perhaps, her sister had. I was so busy helping others that I had avoided my own hoard that Theresa was packing up. I looked under a table, there were lots of big cardboard boxes, but they all had somebody’s last name printed in red magic marker on them. I looked at a box of mine that Mummy had sent. It was full of junk including a naked wooden doll with a primitive face wearing a bonnet. Her body was smooth and straight. She was a bit bigger than a Barbie. I noticed a beautiful black and gold Japanese bed with white silk sheets that a woman who was not in my class had in the front of the room. I was thinking that people had brought their very best. Leaving through a sunny glass door like you’d find at a diner, Jennifer Davidson told me to keep in touch. I was thinking that I wouldn’t, but that maybe we’d have a party and how much I liked parties.

Dreams 7/14

 Dreamed I was back in the kitchen of the old house in Oakland. I wanted to take a shower in one of two ovens. First, my brother was there. I was frustrated and couldn't get the temperature right in the one oven. Then Annie and Jay stopped by. I was pulling all sorts of food, like fresh wrapped sausages that ought to have been in the refrigerator from the second oven where my ex had put them. Then he was there. Jay was showing me how to set the temperature correctly. He said it would be too cold at three-hundred degrees when Ron woke me up. 

Dreams 10/10

Dreamt that I was riding a bus in Pittsburgh and for some daft reason I decided to get off in Oakland and walk home to West Mifflin. Instead of going left, I went right, which led me to an old derelict bridge with crumbling red bricks and rust. Of course I was lost, so I went back to the right and was walking along back streets and alleys. First, I ran into my girlfriend, Laurie, from grade school. We were walking along and chatting, but somehow I lost her, likely as I was scrambling across rooftops and down fire escapes. I was calling Laurie's name when a young man found me. I was walking with him awhile too. At this point the dream gained a rare soundtrack: I Wish that I Knew What I Know Now When I was Younger. Now, it was getting dark. I lost that young man, too, then, came across Tom, who was very like a friend from college, though not quite. He had curly sandy colored hair and was fit and tan. Unlike my Arien college friend, this guy was a Gemini, and I took him all the way home to West Mifflin with me, then, the dream got better. 

Dreams 4/1

Dreamt that I was back at the old house in Oakland. My ex, sister-in-law, and her friend weren't present, but I knew they were around. The place was filthy. There was dust and garbage everywhere. I was going around with huge garbage bags, like the ones for the lawn, trying to contend with it. There was a half empty case of rose wine in the kitchen. I was drinking some. It was bad, but I don't like rose wine. Don't know why I was cleaning up, but it seemed like any human being would want to. 

Ghost Stories VI

 

Ghosts VI

Ghosts VI Posted on April 4, 2008 at 10:34 PM

This will be the last chapter dealing with the house in Oakland, where I lived for ten years. I told you in the beginning, I am not sure if the house was inhabited by at least three spirits, or perhaps it was all the work of demons; but I think there were separate entities involved. You have already met Mrs. Operhall, who was harmless, Mr. Jones, who was questionable, and now the one I feared the most, who I referred to as Hank.

Hank dominated the third floor. I think he died there. Hank is just a boy, but I did not know that for a long time, although I had my suspicions. I told you about the two girls who tried to live up there with Hank. The one told me she thought it was a kid when I told her about him. She said she could feel him in the room with her and hear him crying and that he really scared her. The other said the same and that he moved stuff around, which he did.
I was in the bathtub one night when I first encountered him, myself. After the girls had left I moved most of my dolls and my studio up there. I did it all jungle leopard theme, but also had a house big enough that I could fill it with dolls. The bathroom up there was a big old walk-in closet for the nursery back in the days. I had a claw foot tub up there; and I love them. Well, I'm in the tub, listening to Bjork, when I hear someone crying outside the door. My blood ran cold, I hate to be cliche, but that is exactly how I felt at that moment. My brain was trying to settle me, telling me it was the dog, MacDuff, although my mind knew better, and the door knob began to jiggle as I sat there, scared to death. After I was done, I went to look and see what I already knew, that MacDuff was shut downstairs, and he never once came to the third floor either, only the cat would, actually, and she died up there, under the bed.

It was lovely up there, because it was so high as the moon shone through into the windows at night. There was open space in the one room, and I used to dance there, not a lot though, because that would bring him on. The Voodoo ladies are right when they say dancing calls the spirits. You would just feel him in the room with you. He used to move pictures around a lot. Someone would visit, and he would turn their picture face down, which scared me. Nobody else would have, could have, done that. My cat did not mess about like that, like other cats do, and it would be wyrd, because it would always be the same pictures of the same people after a visit like that. I had this print, The Faery Kissed By Pixies, by Brian Froud up there, it's big. He took that one down all the time. The nail was always, certainly secure, as I would always check it, but he did not like fairies hanging in his room, and I guess I should not blame him for that. If I was ever up there in the bed, by the window, crying, he would always come sit at the foot of the bed. You could feel it and see the comforter actually move. This was the only time that he was comforting.

Once I was cleaning the impossible steps when I saw him, sitting on the landing, looking up at me. He was only about eight, I would say, but big for his age. He had his head shaved and was very pale. He was wearing a navy blue, what seemed to be a school uniform to me, with shorts on, with little military type piping up the sides. There was something on his jacket lapel, and his eyes and head were big. He looked sad. I wasn't really scared of him at all then, and I seemed to hear his name in whispers reverberating off of the walls.

I was in bed one night when he said, "Mommy, I'm scared", as clear as anything in my ear, and I flew down the three flights of stairs cursing like I never curse, all sorts of blasphemies concerning the house, to the extent of, I hate this house, I can't wait to get the hell out of this house. I hate You! I felt very bad, afterwards, of course, but it scared me, because I knew all at once that he was always going to be scared. I felt bad for him, but I really did not like it that he wanted me to be his mother either. I think he died there of tuberculosis, or the flu. There was a flu epidemic in Pittsburgh in the twenties that killed one in seven.

I had moved from the house on several occasions, but it had a way of sucking you back. The first time that I moved from there I had a terrible headache like I've never known; I actually felt faint and the room seemed to spin as if I was drunk. It felt like somebody was pushing down on my head. When I left and came back for the rest of my stuff all of the doors were wide open, front and back. Of course I had locked them, because I am obsessive compulsive about locks like that.

The last time, right before I moved out, I felt something in the bed, up there, with me, jumped up, turned the light on, freaking. Another time I was in the bed I could hear wings flapping in the room, big wings, flapping. It could not have been an angel, or at least, I didn't think so at the time. Just before I left I saw a demon, only for a second, on the counter top in the kitchen, by the sink. This is why I wonder if it is not just that little demon, alone in the house, playing tricks. He was only about as big as a little dog, and was gray with wings like a bat. He was hairless, and had little horns. He would have looked like a gargoyle if it were not for the horns. I'm glad to be out of that house. Next time I'll go on to ghost stories about places that I have visited, The Jean Bonnet Tavern being the first of them.

Ghost Stories III

This next series of events revolve around an old house in Oakland, Pittsburgh, where I lived for ten years. It was a stone's throw from the Carnegie Museum and Mellon's old house, which is now Chatham College, where I went to school. It is a very old part of the city. The house was from 1913; I knew it was haunted my first night there. It just felt dark and wyrd, the shadows on the walls seemed to play tricks on your eyes; but I had no extraordinary experiences there until January, eleven months after I had moved in. I got up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. It was very dark. I had to go through the living room. The house was very big, and at that time, we were living on the second floor. On my way back, I knew someone was in the room with me, but the room was black. Something that was not there hugged me. I should not have reacted the way that I did, I'm afraid, but I totally freaked out. I think that is a pretty natural reaction when confronted with the unknown. But, I felt very violated. Maybe if it had occurred at a different time in a different way, I would not have freaked, but just afterwards I kept brushing myself off as if a thousand ants were crawling over me. It was very real. The dog, MacDuff, would not venture on the second floor. You know what he did there? I don't even want to tell, because it is disgusting. MacDuff was very aware of the spirits. I say spirits, but to this day I am not sure if the house had at least three spirits, or if it was inhabited by a demon, because demons appear in many guises, whatever they feel You will be most vulnerable to. MacDuff crapped in a circle twice in that very spot where I was hugged. He never did that in the house. I think he was trying to mark his territory to banish it. I have a friend whose ex-husband came to visit. Once we moved in to the rest of the house, that room was shut off, and there was a pile of old furniture kept there. Only the cat would get in there and howl, because she was in kahootz with them. But my friend's husband went in the room, even though I told him not to. He had no prior knowledge as to the happenings in there. He said somebody went through a lot of pain in there, had died of kidney infections there. Another wyrd thing about that, that again, he couldn't have known about, was that I had suffered kidney problems after moving in to the house.

So, the next couple of installments will concern that house in Oakland where a lot of strange things occurred. Two girls had tried living on the third floor. One lived there for about a year, the other only a couple of months. Neither of them ever spent a single night up there, not alone. One was always at her boyfriend's, the other with her family. They said they were too scared. They'd get on the phone, crying...then leave for the night. So, it wasn't just me.