Burnt Paiges

CHAPTER TEN: THE BASEMENT

A dream may be a progression of images, thoughts, emotions, and sensations that ordinarily happen automatically within the mind amid certain stages of rest. The substance and reason of dreams are not completely grasped, in spite of the fact that the topic has intrigued the scientific, philosophical and devout communities all through recorded history. Dream elucidation is the endeavor at drawing meaning from dreams and looking for a core idea. The logical analysis of dreams is called oneirology.

It is common for individuals to feel their dreams are anticipating, consequent life encounters. Psychologists have clarified these encounters in terms of memory biases, to be certain a specific memory for precise forecasts and misshaped memory so that dreams are reflectively fitted onto life encounters. The multi-faceted nature of dreams makes it simple to discover associations between dream substance and authentic occasions. The term "veridical dream" has been utilized to name dreams that uncover or contain truths not so far known to the visionary, whether future occasions or secrets. In the late 19th century, psychotherapist Sigmund Freud created a hypothesis (since disputed) that the substance of dreams is driven by oblivious wish fulfillment. Freud called dreams the " royal road to the unconscious." He theorized that the substance of dreams reflects the dreamer's unmindful understanding and particularly that dream substance is formed by unaware wish fulfillment.

Paige's POV

I found myself staring into a plain landscape. No trees, grass, dirt, nothing resembling nature or anything alive. Instead it was a blank horizon, as far as the eyes can see. Plain and white. Infinite and humdrum. I turned around this time I was hopeful enough to see a large manor stretching to towering heights. However, I felt this awful repulsion not to enter. Go in? Or don't go in? I pondered for a moment. The latter seems safer.

So, I ended up walking perpendicular to the door steps, unaware of my true direction. There was no source of any main light, rather the whole environment was uniformly lit. There were not any shadows but certainly there where different shades of white, grey and black. I sped up to a slight jog, but the monotonous terrain surely burned holes in my retinas.

Has it been seconds? Minutes? Hours? Days? Week? Months? Years? But is there any real perception of time here? There's no indication of anything. Not even from my own body. I feel like I've been here forever, but I haven't been walking for very long. I should turn around...and head back to the house.

But when I turned around, the house, the eerie presence emanating deep from its skeleton, was only a stone's throw away. My breath caught in my throat, a hand above my heart. Well I guess I don't have far to walk. That was the bright side of the situation.

I walked up the stairs slowly, holding the railing for support. I could feel the anxious bind of terror and the feeling of despair, having no other alternative. The door was unlocked but opening it was tougher than normal. It seemed to be that the door was longer than it should be and hence it scraped the floor, dragging with a wretched sound. Everything was dark, but the windows glowed, allowing some light to pour through. The house was unfurnished and had been unentered for some time as the outline of my feet left prints in its trod. But somehow, I knew how to maneuver from the time my pupils adjusted.

Now that I was in the house, I heard it. The sound oozed a thick musty aura. Dread sank and settle in my stomach like lead when I discerned horrendous shrieks of agony. It sounded like it was coming from down under, most likely the basement. I don't know the exact reason why, but I made the decision to find it. There was a dividing wall right after the entrance. Left, or right? Left, or right? Right. I like my right hand better.

So, I went right, but then I came to another cross road and my logic this time was, I feel kinda bias for going right, let's go left this time, the sound is louder in that direction. Jogging down a meandering stair case, the feeling of an up draft of hot breeze. And that's when it hit me, or when I hit it. The floor. I didn't feel winded, rather a delay in my stomachs reaction to falling. I got up uninjured, not a scratch. I had dropped into a massive cavity. The flooring, what appeared to be masoned about 100 years ago, spouted weeds and large roots, thrusting up from the disintegrated grout. Moss retiled the ground, but they favored the corner where a lonesome white filament shone. The moss painted the jagged walls of the grotto. The deafening noise pulsed once before ceasing. He wasn't there when I first looked around, but there was a whited haired boy sitting under the light.