In a dream I found myself in a haunted house. An old century manor, with creaky wooden floors and large glass windows. I don't know how I knew it was haunted, I only felt that it was so. Suddenly a woman appeared before me on the floor. She had golden hair, and skin as white as porcelain. I felt a kind of electricity in the air, and knew I was in the presence of a ghost. She was lying flat upon the wooden floor, but looked up at me with dark eyes. We said something to each other then, but I don't recall the content of those words. I remember kneeling down and gently kissing her upon a snow-white neck. She inclined her head to make room, and gazed off into the distance. I still remember the way my lips felt upon her skin. She was as smooth as a ceramic bowl, and cold. Her flesh was not hard, but soft. I think at that moment I felt we might possibly come to love one another, and my heart filled with emotion.
The next thing I remember is leaving the building and meeting its proprietor. He was an older man, short, stout, and sporting a large moustache. He vaguely reminded me of Stephen Jay Gould. He seemed shocked that I had been in the building and asked me in amazement, "Did you not see the monster?" To which I replied, "No, only a beautiful woman." He went on to explain that all previous visitors to the house had seen a terrible monster within, at which I glanced at one of the windows and did indeed see a terrifying image, a beast of incredible horror, which flickered away once I looked to other windows.
As you can imagine I was quite upset by this. Questions flooded my mind. Would I ever see my pale lady again? Could I enter the house knowing that such a creature dwelt inside? Was the lady and the beast two different creatures, or were they in fact two aspects of a single phantom? This latter possibility made my skin shiver. Had I unwittingly given my heart to a monster?
This dream was so vivid that I have not forgotten even the smell of the place. I have had some misgivings as well. Did I have the lady's permission to kiss her? I can't recall what was said between us, but the way she gazed into the distance causes me to wonder if my kiss was something she even desired. Who was she? Why did I not ask her where she was from, or why she was there? Could I have helped her transition to another form of existence? What is the significance of kissing a dead person? She seemed animated, and yet to touch she was as good as a corpse. This I find quite disturbing and even hesitate to include here, and yet to you, my faithful reader, I have always shown the deepest recesses of my heart. In the end I remain baffled by the images and visions that danced within my skull in the quiet hours of the night. Perhaps you hold the key to unlock these mysteries.
