My Dream House Everyone must hope they will have a dream house. The dream house can keep them In the condition they wanted. In my mind, I hope that my….
In my dreams
These strange eerie feelings were all too familiar to the boy who lived across the street. It was part of my daily routine to accompany the same quiet, hidden and shy boy to and from school. He very rarely spoke but was almost definitely troubled.
Just like the boy the whole Charms family kept themselves to themselves. The only sightings of Mrs. Charm were of her mysterious emerald eyes peeping from behind the faded, torn curtain.
When the family moved into the street my mum had urged me to welcome the new family the morning that they had arrived. A little hesitant at introducing myself to the new family, nevertheless I obeyed my mother’s instruction. As I approached the first step I heard distressed voices from inside the house. The voices stopped and I knew my knocking had been heard. The blanket of cold air felt thin around me. The emptiness of the dark glaring eyes, which stared back at me when the door was opened, sent a shiver down my spine. The tense atmosphere around the house made my body freeze, but it became alive again when I heard my mother’s cheerful shriek from across the road. My mother was always colourful and energetic in her ways and sure enough within a few seconds she had fully introduced both herself and me reassuring the silent figure that I would be happy to walk alongside him on our journey to school.
That was when my encounters with the Charms family started and my nightmares began. Every night since that first meeting I had awoken streaming with sweat and breathless, in a panic. At first the nightmares were blurry and confusing but after several weeks the pieces of the puzzle began to slide into place. I often tried to prevent my eyes closing when I felt tired, terrified of the horrifying events which I would witness as my eyelids clamped closed.
The nightmares began with an image of the blank expression of the boy who lived across the street. His eyes rolled open and it was clear that he had been disturbed from a deep sleep. I knew that this was not the first time that this had happened. He was awakened at the same time every night from his peaceful slumber. He could set his watch by it. Some nights he would be so restless that he would slide from his bed and walk the shadowy landing to the bathroom. I saw him stumble. His legs felt heavy from the interrupted sleep. Other times the boy would lie awake in bed tossing and turning.
When the voices started he doubted them at first. It was a new house and a strange neighbourhood; settling down took more than a couple of weeks. But as the voices got more frequent I could see that the boy dreaded his awakening. Then one night just like the previous nights, the same routine occurred. However this night was different. The voices were clearer than before. He knew that no one other than his family was in the house, and the doors were locked. Was it his wild imagination and the unsettled atmosphere in the house? This is what he had thought before. He simply dismissed it as his mind playing tricks on him. His dark troubled eyes guided his body back to his room. He stopped outside his parents’ room and paused. The voices had reached a peak and the boy now recognised whom they belonged to. The dark eyes peered around the door, which was ajar. His father appeared frightened and fearful as his mother’s voice rose.
I shot up in bed. Beads of sweat ran don my forehead. What the boy had seen in my dreams was what I had been dreading. The bright emerald eyes rang clearly in my memory. While I had been dreaming it had all seemed so unbelievable, only a dream. Now I was awake and everything felt so real. The boy’s mother always kept herself hidden from the world and yet the father seemed to carry shame for his family. Since the move the situation had grown worse.
The shouting that I had heard from inside the house at the first meeting of the family was exactly the same voices that the boy hears every night. There was nothing he could do to stop them. He could not ignore them because his body shook violently with fear as the voices got louder. The boy was helpless just like the rest of his family was. The boy’s family seemed to fall apart a little more each day. His dark eyes had tried to hide the frightening secrets of his family. When I had first met the Charms family I knew that there was something strange about the atmosphere around the house but I had just dismissed the boy as shy. The whole family was part of a tangled web of anger, hate and rage. Earlier in my dream I had seen the boy’s father looking fearful, but did he fear for his life?
When morning came I struggled to remember the shadowy goings on in the Charms house. As I rubbed my weary eyes and the light streamed through the gap in my curtain everything started to become clearer. Confused from my sleep I was unsure of what I had seen but now I was sure. My thoughts were broken by my mum’s cheery smile, which lit up my room. I urged to tell my mum what had happened in my nightmare. I had been having them for weeks now and I had wanted to tell her then. I knew that she would not have thought anything of the strange family, she was always too busy. I was always making up stories. My mum called me the joker. I had a vivid imagination. That is why I doubted that the dreams were true at the beginning, but now I was sure. I explained to my mum about the nightmares. She smiled. I knew that smile. She did not believe me!