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Of course I believe in them....what kind of vampiress would I be if I didn't?
I think they are here only if they have something important to finish. As an example, I think that some murder victims trap themselves here so that they can help ensure that justice is done to their murderer. I also think some are here to protect us.
The house I stayed in on campus (yes, the house of the undying rumor, lol) seems to have 2 completely different feelings, depending on where you are (or at least that I can sense). The room I stayed in last year had a closet right next to the door. I always got a weird feeling from that room but from the closet in particular. I couldn't sleep in the room by myself unless I had a dim light on or the TV and my back to the closet. There were a few times when I felt like someone was standing behind me while I was trying to fall asleep but I did my best to ignore it and not turn to look. I never did because I was too freaked out. I also get a weird feeling from a landing in between the 1st floor and basement...I won't go there unless it's well lit.
The room that I stayed in this year felt like a "safe zone." Although it was on the same floor as the other creepy room, I always felt comforted when I came into this one. I felt like nothing could hurt me. Going out into the hallway, the atmosphere changed slightly. It wasn't malicious....just not as safe as being in the room.
I kept having this one dream over and over about a little girl in a faded flower print dress. She was always holding a basket of flowers in her hands and standing on a dirt road that went up to a run down house. I felt like I knew who the girl was and that I'd been to that place before although I don't know either of them. Mom thought I was crazy when I told her there was something to it that I was missing. She said something about "Maybe she's just an inspiration for another of your poems..." This is what came of that dream:
Beyond the Picket Fence
She stood alone in the middle if the dirt road,
Yet another day, yet another vivid blue code.
Her dress was faded, the once red roses now pink,
The net that held her breaking by each leaden link.
Her face was streaked by tears and dirt entwined,
She couldn’t run and leave this nightmare behind.
A voice that lingered in the sultry night’s air,
Called to her like a demon within its cold lair.
The tears quickened and her heart began to race,
Looking back into her past, filled with innocent disgrace.
She debated whether it was safer to flee or stay,
She had abandoned God- it was useless to pray.
The wicker basket clasped in her hands grew heavy,
And she returned to the darkness that shone blindingly.
Once gathered in, she awaited what was to come,
She wished for a savior but truly believed in none.
That what she longed for, torn from her hands,
Swirled by the current, as far as foreign lands.
The horrors revealed themselves to her one by one,
The heavens had chosen her, from birth, to shun.
Eyes that gazed upon her chose to cast an illusion,
Her skin discolored, her hopes scattered in confusion.
The heavy footsteps that found themselves before her,
Knowing full well what she was going to endure.
It was written before she knew how it would end,
Left on her own to attempt to heal and to mend.
He was supposed to be her protector, not a terror,
His cold hands replaced by the golden pallbearer.
The earth became her blanket and brought comfort,
And she stood alone on a path of simple dirt.
The dreams stopped after I wrote this poem.
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