Dreams and freaked-out-edness

I'm so worked up about the Lost season finale that a few nights ago I had a whole dream about it. See, they discovered a new civilization on the island, except this was the true native population. They were all Asian. In the dream, I turned to my dad (who in reality does not watch Lost and probably wouldn't) and said, "See? Finally some 'natives' who aren't frikkin white people." Yeah, it was weird. Not as weird as the dream I had the following night where Tony Hawk had a new career as a professional magician. My parents are away right now, so I'm alone in the house. Of course last night I decided to start reading Burnt Offerings by Robert Marasco -- I would choose the night I'm home alone to start reading a horror novel. I ended up reading the whole thing and finished up at about 3 AM. I wasn't terribly freaked out being in a big house alone... although I suppose having left a few lights on in the hallway and having locked my bedroom door kind of betrays a little freaked-out-edness. But still, the notion of there being space beyond my closed door, unoccupied space, kind of freaks me out. I don't think I could ever live in a big house. One of my sisters used to live in this big house in Red Hook. There was a closet door in my niece's room that led into a small walk-in closet, in which there was another door... which led into the guest room. That part of the house was rarely used, and whenever I slept over, it was in my niece's room. The thought that there was another wing of the house beyond that door scared me. But then, my niece's room was supposedly haunted, so I may have been freaked out for a variety of reasons. Once her Big Bird doll (which would say "Peekaboo" when you uncovered its eyes... I believe it worked off a light sensor) started going off in the middle of the night. In the pitch black. I wasn't there for that one, though. I likely would have gone screaming into the night, had I been. Wuss that I am, I still crave being scared. A lot. It's why I picked up that book in the first place (though it wasn't scary... more sad and disturbing and eerie). Every few months I whet my appetite for horror, then I overdose on it until my dreams start turning bad, then I stop for a while, and then the cycle starts all over again. I believe I just whetted the appetite once more. --------