With My Sister in Our Deceased Grandparents' Home

I was with my sister, Shannon. We were standing in a strange room, and suddenly it dawned on me that Shannon and I were in my grandparents' old home in Alabama, where we'd spent many, many days visiting them during our childhood. She didn't believe where we were at first and looked confused.

"But, see? This is just where the bed was positioned in the room, and where the closets were," I explained. Then, she began to understand and agree with me.

How we suddenly came to find ourselves there, not knowing how we arrived, or whose home it was is a mystery to me; but that's the illogical world of the dreamer.

The house was exactly the same as I remember. We walked from that end of the house where the room was and on through the hallway, briefly stopping to poke our heads into the places that held so many memories of our now deceased grandparents and the times we spent there. It was odd and kind of eerie.

For some reason, we didn't dare venture into the basement. Even in my early years, I never liked to linger long in that part of the house. I believe this is because my Uncle Randy's room had been there. He was only alive long enough to hold me when I was but a small baby, I am told, but I have no recollection of him. When he was 19 or 20, or maybe younger, he was killed in a motorcycle accident. His room had remained exactly as he left it. Our grandparents never moved a thing. The air in the basement seemed to always have a musty smell, and it was always a shadowy place, not like the warmth on the upper level. I was filled with dread when I was downstairs, because I knew that just down the hall was my dead uncle's room, completely intact -- his artistically accurate sketches of cars on the bare white walls, and an old dust-coated cardboard box that contained the game of Yahtzee.

As my sister and I approached the way out of the house, I still wouldn't go down those stairs. I merely peeked in, as if I expected the worst. I yelled something to elicit any response if anyone were there. I felt like some kind of Boogeyman was afoot. Suddenly, I was frightened as a little girl, with an eerie aspect to her, stared back at me. Her eyes weren't quite right. They seemed to be glowing. She was about 5 years old, with medium-length blonde or light-brown hair. That was that for me. I shut the door in a hurry, and we took off to leave the house behind.