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I hate being home

It's worth it to see my friends but.. when everyone is gone, I'm alone with that room.

We have bad history--the room and I.

I've had numerous dreams with that room as the center of the events.

Dream Recollection 1: I woke up and went to the bathroom. First thing I did was turn on the light but then I saw there was someone behind me. I tried to shut the door behind me but he flicked off the light and pushed the door back into me. I was knocked out and I woke up in bed. I thought I had seriously been raped and laid in my bed, shaking for a good hour. I can remember distinctively that it was an hour before I finally wore myself out so I could sleep.

Dream Recollection 2: Our backyard is really big so I thought as we were going to sleep, a jack-o-lanturn character was sitting on our fence. We could see it from the kitchen and so we ran downstairs to lock everything just in case but it beat us downstairs and just as we locked the doors, it stood there watching us in the glass door. We stood there, watching it until it went away. We forgot about the garage door and then we heard it. It opened the door to the garage and we ran up the stairs to get away. It got in to downstairs and we could see the shadow from the top of the stairs. I woke up.

Dream Recollection 3 (which varies several times) People are outside my window, arguing about how to break in. They talk about how much fun they are going to have as they smoke a cigarette. I can see them through me window and I'm scared out of my mind. They move around to the back as I run to my brother's room to wake him up. I then go to my parent's door but the people are making more noise. They are inside, so I take my brother and we run outside. They find us and my brother somehow plays his instrument. They laugh as they mirror our movements, trapping us outside. If we try to get close to a door, they are there waiting, until they have more of their people outside, cornering us.

I hate that house so much.

I have good memories too but... that room.

******** that room.

One can understand why I would rather sleep on my brother's bed, where I can remember him putting underwear on his fan and throwing it all over the place XDD Or when we would read in his bed as kids. Or the words that were written on his bunk bed and the wood railing that could come off. And how we all used to hangout there.

My room,

haunted memories of high school and dreams from long ago

******** that s**t