My happy childhood home is not mine anymore.

Three, sometimes four times a week I dream of my house and my old room, not happy or sad dreams but dreams of going back to see who lives there. Now, there are only nightmares.

Living my presence in my past …

Going to the front door, I ring the bell and a woman answers. I explain to her that I used to live there, and was feeling a bit sentimental and just wanted to see my old room. She says, "Why sure, I understand"

There’s still evidence that I lived there, like pictures and posters on the walls. Sometimes, I ring the bell and no one answers, but I still go in to take a peek at my youth.

Another dream…

I’m in a car, on a date. I am not supposed to be on a date because I am married! I have no idea who it was, but he parked and waited outside my house while I snuck in to change my clothes and sneak back out. I unlocked the door and tiptoed up the same fourteen stepss to my bedroom. Something told me to check on my parents. When I opened their door, I found them sleeping.

I continued down the hall to my room, went in and turned on the light. I turned it off thinking I'd be better off without it. I didn't want any light filtering out from under the door to cause suspicion. I wanted to take a quick shower.

Showering fast, and thinking that whatever I was going to wear, I needed to be able to put my hands on it quickly. I could do it in the dark; I knew just where everything was.

Something seductive...he's waiting patiently for me. I wanted it to be well worth his wait.

Back in my room. I peek in the hall…it’s quiet. I close my door and turn on the lamp. I open my closet and see all of my things that used to be there when I was in High School. "What is this? I remember those shoes. I can't believe they’re still here. Oh my red dress”

It's a world of wonderful memories as I sit down in front of the closet and sift through the shoeboxes.

I suddenly remembered my date. I shoved the shoes back into the boxes, and arranged them neatly back in place. I mustn’t get caught. By whom, my parents, the new owners?

Just as I was about to pull something out to wear, I heard a noise coming from the hall and immediately thought that I forgot to close the door. I went to look and there was a woman. She was a skeleton with thin gray skin and hair – Norman Bates mother.

My chest caved, I took a deep breath and let out a long, low, deep, agonizing scream that slowly climbed three octaves.

I felt my husband shaking me as I continued to scream. I couldn't tell whether or not I was in the past or the present, so I screamed longer.

I have no idea who the man was waiting for me in the car, and I never figured out who the woman was.