A house I dearly loved keeps calling out to me through dreams and nightmares, . . .or is it the house?

RECURRING NIGHTMARES

I have dreamed of the house on Blooomingrove Road, at least three times a week for twenty-four years. Sometimes the dreams are wonderful, sometimes on the verge of a nightmare. For all these years I thought I dreamt of this haunted house, a house that terrorized my family, but comforted me and held me within its tender "clutches" because I loved the house. The house loved me, kept me safe within its doors until I became too agoraphobic to leave. Yet I felt blissfully protected there, doors unlocked, windows open, no fears within it's warm enticement. The things the house did to my children and husband are for another story, for the house and I had a relationship that continues to this day. I loved the house from the moment I saw it and I will always love it. Yet it has occurred to me that I dream of the house because Noelle died a block away from it. It may be that it is not the house calling out to me in my dreams, but Noelle.