Dream Diary - Special Entry, "Irish Ghosts"

Dream Diary - Special Entry, "Irish Ghosts"

A Chapter by dw817

The conductor points a finger at me speaking in a dull and deep tone, "Begone from here demon boy, spirits protect me I do employ ! And with this spell I duly cast, your shade I send into the past !"


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  Dream Diary  


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© November 2014 Written by David Wicker
Please do not reprint without permission

This will be my new main Tuesday writing and I will add a new listing of 10 of my
dreams every week as long as I can remember or am reminded to do so.

Occasionally there may be a special entry, such as this one, which covers the week.


* * *

This entry is Rated: EVERYONE


I guess it's important to say who I am in this dream. I am 12-years old and apparently with a team of ghost hunters and some of my family. It's Dad, me, Dottie, and my sister. We are in a house where electricity refuses to work and - we are inside the house working on opening this other door.

There is this electronic guy in his 20s that has a magical electric device that when attached to the front of the door opens the lock.

I see him go and place it against the door when suddenly the lock clicks open. I smile and pat him on the back saying, "Hey, you got that to work a lot faster this time, Gregory."

He backs away with a fearful look on his face, "I hadn't turned it on yet."

We then watch the lock jiggle by itself and the door opens wide. Inside is this vaporous substance clinging to the walls and a thick fog pours out. My Dad scoots me around so I am standing behind him.

I peer around and see it's like a long hallway, perhaps in a factory somewhere with a single door opening at the other end.

"Get back," he says, "this could be dangerous."

I nod, definitely not eager to enter the forbidden room.

I start walking back when suddenly a large man, at least 9 feet tall wearing a bright orange shirt walks past me. I look on and he scowls. I suddenly turn away and call to Dad, "Hey, we have ghosts ! There is a guy with an orange shirt coming your way !"

Then a whole group of angry men walk by, all wearing orange shirts.

"There's more !" I call to him.

Dad looks and says, "They're dead prisoners, stay away from them !" Then he steps out of the room a bit to look, then says, "Here. Stay close to him." and points.

Standing aside is a smaller ghost, he looks like a friendly train conductor. "Yeah, him. Stand next to him until they pass." Dad says.

"Okay." he looks pretty harmless so I stay next to him.

Suddenly the conductor calls, "All aboard !" and claps a hand on my shoulder.

I pull away and look at him in shock.

"That's not possible !" I tell him.

"What's not boy ?" he asks.

"You - you're not supposed to be able to touch me !"

"Oh, are you a spirit then ?" he laughs.

"No no - YOU are ! You're the spirit, I was in the house with my - " but my voice trails off as I can see I am now at a train depot and people are getting aboard. A few eye me suspiciously as if I'm crazy.

The conductor however reacts in fear, "I'll have no dealings with you ! You just came out of nowhere after all !"

Then he gets serious and points a finger at me speaking in a dull and deep tone, "Begone from here demon boy, spirits protect me I do employ ! And with this spell I duly cast, your shade I send into the past !"

Suddenly darkness surrounds me from all sides. I feel changed inside, like a new person.

Then I am sitting in a poor wooden chair and there is a meal prepared for me. It is a loaf of bread and a baked potato with some seasoning on it.

A deep voice rouses me from my stupor, "Are-en't ya gone to eat that, Daithi ?"

"What ?" I ask.

"You-er food. You-er dair Mum prepaid it zhust fer yew-woo."

I look at the food, shake my head and say, "No, there's a problem - "

But that's as far as I get when this big fat ugly man, clearly Irish and apparently my Dad reaches over with a knife and fork to cut the crust off my bread. Then drags it to his own plate.

"Bettah naew are we ?"

"Huh ? No, I mean - I'm not supposed to be here !"

My Mom at the table sits down a salt shaker hard, rattling the table with it, "They-ya he goes wit dat dray-em agayne !"

"What ? No, it's not a dream, I was with my family - "

She scowls, "Oh for corn say-ek, just git it owet orl-raydee !"

"Well, you - are not my family, okay ?"

I quietly look around the table and see my Mother with bright red hair, there is a little baby with a bib, an older girl but still a tween, my Dad, a great lump of a man, and my Mother whose face seems worn with time.

I look at my reflection in the window next to the table and I have changed too. I have a knotted mop of mismanaged red hair and freckles.

My Mother speaks again breaking the silence, "Gow an ! Ye hay-ev our ay-tenchun boyee !"

I continue, "Right, well, we were ghost hunters and hunting ghosts I guess. And there was this train conductor who put his hand on my shoulder - "

As I relate the story a weird mist starts to collect several feet from where we're sitting and suddenly we hear the dull chiming of a train's bell and whistle inside the house. Me, Dad, and Mom all gasp in fear at the sight.

My Dad erupts, "Thayet's a witch's spell you speaking to be sure ! Poot it owet of your hay-ed boyee !"

He jumps up from the table to get a broom and wave it at the mist. Then he turns the broom on me ! I am coughing trying to push it out of my face when suddenly - I wake up.

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© 2014 dw817

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