It started the same way as all your dreams did - you were being dragged out of your bed, out of your home and towards the new build. Somehow you knew everybody called it the new build and you knew it had been a work in progress for almost forty years now but it was still missing something... always missing something.
Your dream would switch scenes at this point, changing from you being dragged to you reaching your destination. The air smelt so real, so damp and metallic that it lingered with you even after you'd woken up. Tonight would be no different, it seemed, as you were made to walk towards the exposed foundations and to your resting place.
You'd wake up as they began pouring concrete over you, just as it began to seep into your desperate lungs. Your sheets would be torn from the way you frantically clawed at the walls to try and escape your tomb without success, your skin drenched and ice cold to the touch.
What you didn't realise for many cycles was that you were never dreaming, not as such.
Ghosts are a tricky sort, all wrapped up in their memories and easily confused by the sudden appearance of living people in their death-space. You found yourself dreaming in reverse - your "waking"moments spent reliving your death and the periods where you were meant to rest and recover from your trauma were instead spent pretending to be among the living.
Not that they ever noticed you, not until you crept into their minds and borrowed them for the evening.
Your dream would switch scenes at this point, changing from you being dragged to you reaching your destination. The air smelt so real, so damp and metallic that it lingered with you even after you'd woken up. Tonight would be no different, it seemed, as you were made to walk towards the exposed foundations and to your resting place.
You'd wake up as they began pouring concrete over you, just as it began to seep into your desperate lungs. Your sheets would be torn from the way you frantically clawed at the walls to try and escape your tomb without success, your skin drenched and ice cold to the touch.
What you didn't realise for many cycles was that you were never dreaming, not as such.
Ghosts are a tricky sort, all wrapped up in their memories and easily confused by the sudden appearance of living people in their death-space. You found yourself dreaming in reverse - your "waking"moments spent reliving your death and the periods where you were meant to rest and recover from your trauma were instead spent pretending to be among the living.
Not that they ever noticed you, not until you crept into their minds and borrowed them for the evening.
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