I Thought I Was Dreaming

This is the story of a house. A house in Tennessee that sets in the middle of a 90 acre farm. It is a small white house with neighbors at least a half mile away. In this small 2 bedroom house lived myself, my mom and dad, and my baby sister. I grew up in this house, but only after we moved out did I realize it's rarity.

Every night, for as long as I can remember, when the house was quiet and everyone was asleep, the house would come alive all on its own. I would lie in my bed and listen to a conversation. Not a loud conversation, but mumbled one. The type that was not intended to be heard.

In my young mind, I was convinced that it was my parents having a midnight chat. I was wrong. There were many nights when the voices would wake me from my sleep. I'd yell for them to be quiet, and the voices would stop for a minute or two, but always they could still be heard.

While I heard voices, my parents were having their own experiences with our invisible room mate. No matter the weather, be it rain, wind, or peaceful, my mom would always hear music playing outside her bedroom window. The type of music that one would hear hear if he/she were sailing on the Titanic. On one occasion, my dad actually saw our ghost. He awoke in the middle of the night to see him standing in the hallway. My dad's reaction was to throw a pillow at him which went right through him. He then walked into the next room where he wasn't seen again.

Other strange things happened that were not easily explained.

I often found missing toys that I had been searching for conveniently placed on my bed. A glass walk clock that hung above our fireplace was often moved to the other side of the room sitting upright against the wall.

It was after we moved out that my parents and I finally pieced together our stories and realized that we weren't alone in our house. I haven't been inside that house in 10 years, but I'd like to think that our friend is still there playing his jokes on the new owners.