Dislodged From Time

While dreaming, I inhabited an old, stately home. From time to time on a staircase, I could barely catch the sight of a woman in a vintage dress. The apparent apparition was tinged with grey, as if exposed to moonlight. She appeared often, though never for very long. Every time she was expressionless & without sound. My cynicism & atheism followed me into this dream, as I doubted the existence of specters. At odds with what I saw, I eventually rushed up the stairs, taking them in twos. She’d dissipated just before my arrival. Panic-stricken, I was suddenly deprived of air, motion, & even solidity. This occurred when I stood in the very place I saw her.

Once oriented, I noticed an oil lamp suspended overhead, & unrecognizable paintings nearby. I’d been in the same house – on the same staircase – though dislodged from time. From atop the stairs I was greeted by a previous specter. The woman, now corporeal & in living color, provided a baffling explanation of ghosts. Ghosts, she explained, were unsuspecting time travelers, who weren’t corporeally committed to various points in the future. Their interactions with the physical world were therefore limited. I’d been lured to the past, I suspect, as an experiment of sorts.

Her words did little to quell my confusion (& growing uneasiness). Soon after I retreated down the stairs – aiming to step outside & explore. When I reached the door, she disparagingly called me a “half-caste”. Outside, she warned, I’d encounter hostility due to my swarthy complexion.  

My memories of the dream tapered off at about that point. . .

While engaged in that dream, that woman’s explanation seemed to make some sense. While in a wakeful state, not so much.

Despite her rigidity, she was rather attractive (outwardly). There was a certain irritability about her. A certain condescension. It was as if she disliked having to speak down to my level of understanding.


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