Growing up, I always convinced myself I wasn’t afraid of anything. I would always be the one that went first when it came to roller coasters, haunted houses, you name it. Kids always described me as fearless, courageous, daring - The list goes on. However, there was something I actually was afraid of, but nobody really knows. I often find myself embarrassed to even talk about it or even mention it, and when the topic comes up I try my best to avoid it. The dark. 

I’ve been sleeping with a night light for god knows how long now, I just can’t seem to get rid of it. I feel like if I unplugged that tiny little light up bulb out the wall, suddenly everything would come out. It’s like the dark is where everything hides. 

I sit at the edge of my bed, staring at the cold, empty floor, swinging my feet off the bed while waiting for my Grandmother to tuck me into bed. I tilt my head up slightly and watch the rusty door handle with the chipped off paint, listening for the tapping of my Grandma’s slippers coming towards the door. Nevertheless, it just feels like all I could hear was the humming of the fluorescent lights above me and the feeling of complete nothingness. 

I never really liked going to my Grandmother’s house, not because I didn’t like her, but there was something about her house. It was an old, torn down farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, and like many others, kind of unsettling. This house, however, was not like any other. 

This house holds many memories - Many people have come and gone in it, many stories lie deep in the soul of this house, and even my deceased father grew up in this house. I haven’t seen him in many years since his death, and it freaks me out knowing he slept in the same bed I am lying in right now. 

It scares me out just by the thought of it, and the more I look around, the more I can feel his presence. If I think deep enough, I can actually feel the cold mist of his ghost lurking next to me. Every time I feel this, I always try to immediately take my mind off it. I try not to turn my head, because if I do, I’ll maybe actually see him. I already do out of the corner of my eye, but as soon as I look out of instinct, all I see is the chipped off wallpaper, with nothingness in front of it. 

Although afraid, I had always been fascinated by the idea of ghosts, the paranormal, and the tripling thought of other existences in this universe that we may not ever discover. Even when I was just a clueless, curious little kid sitting alone in my dad’s living room not ever knowing the discoveries to behold, I would spend hours watching ghost documentaries for no apparent reason. 

Even though I was always afraid of encountering one myself, I still always liked to feel unsettled by the thought of coming in contact with one. Sometimes my mind wanders when I’m afraid and I still get hallucinations. 

After what felt like forever, I didn’t want to wait anymore. I got off the cold mattress as it deflated back to place from me sitting so long and walked up to the door, not making a sound. I slowly raised my hand up towards the door, feeling as if something was behind me. I beat the temptations and needed to get out of the room before I started hallucinating about things that weren’t there. However, if I went out there alone, I already know my kind would immediately start playing tricks on me. Am I insane? 

I wrapped my hand around the doorknob and turned it ever so slightly. I pushed the door open with as little strength as I could so it wouldn’t make that creepy creaking noise you always hear in horror movies. 

I take one step out the doorway and look up to see the whole view of my grandma’s house. When the lights are on, everything is normal and laid back, just like any old farmhouse. When the lights go out after the break of dawn, that’s when the unsettled feeling comes into play. 

It’s anything you’d see in any other old house - The ripped up couches, the torn off wallpaper, the creaky oakwood floors, and the smell of the ashes excelling from the old styled fireplace. I’m hit with the cold air immediately from there being a lack of air conditioning, hit with the natural heat coming from the burning firewood beside me. However, there is a different vibe about all of this. It’s quiet, sickening, disturbing; It’s all part of the dark. 

I take another step out of the doorway but as soon as my foot lands on the flooring, it is hit with a huge creak that could probably be heard throughout the whole house. I jumped in terror as I quickly glanced behind me out of instinct. It was the same as before, nothing has changed. 

As soon as I turn my head back around, I feel as if something is oddly watching me. I look in every direction I can, assuring myself that there was nothing in the room with me. I stand still for a few minutes, just looking around, and I start to doze off. In the corner of my eye, I see what looks to be my grandfather’s coat hanging up on the coat rack. 

The coat is long, black and old, as it used to be my father’s. I stared at it for a few minutes before deciding I needed to go to sleep. As I was about to do so, I glanced at that coat one more time, as something felt off about it. 

I jumped to the sound of a knock that sounded like it was coming from the wall right beside the coat. In shock, I immediately turn around and slam the door behind me,, keeping my hand on the door handle. I took a few breaths, thinking it was over, but that’s when I heard 2 more knocks. I tried to calm myself down, telling me it was all in my head. However, I couldn’t seem to. The harder my heart beat, the faster it raced and the heavier my chest felt, the louder the knocks became. Get me out of here, get me out of here..

I suddenly jolted awake, my body drenched in sweat and my heart racing. I realize none of it was real, it was all just a silly little dream. I lift myself up and the light shines through the curtains, almost blinding me. 

“It’s morning,” I mumble to myself. I sat on the edge of my bed, scanning the blurry room. It looked the exact same as it did in my dream. As I was still trying to process my thoughts, I started to smell the smell of warm, homemade cooked pancakes and the sound of clinking and clanking cooking utensils coming from the kitchen. 

I again get up from the hard mattress and walk towards the door, just as I did in my dream. I hesitated to go back out there, but since it was day time, I knew the “spirits” wouldn’t be out yet. 

I again open the door, but this time, the door didn’t squeak, the floor didn’t creak, and the house looked newer and cleaner. I slowly walk over to the kitchen, my body still waking up from the dream and my eyes still heavy. 

I’m hit with the sound of the birds chirping through the open window, the natural sunlight rays through the windows and into my eyes, the house smelling like fresh firewood and pancakes and the feeling of the warm breeze through the window. Why is this house all of a sudden so soothing after this nightmare? 

I notice my grandma stirring something up with her big red bowl, humming under her breath with pancake batter scattered all over the counter. 

“Morning Grandma, did you clean up the place?” I mutter with a raspy voice. Grandmother turns around to look at me, whipping her long black hair out of her face. 

“Morning sunshine, no, I didn’t clean up today, why must you ask?” Grandma replied while going back to stir the batter. 

“Oh, it just looks pretty nice today,” I explained, pulling out the rusty wooden chair and taking a seat down at the table covered in red and white plaid cloth. I sit down for a minute, grabbing my glass cup filled with water and taking little sips out of it. I sat there thinking with my elbow on the ledge of the table and my hand on my chin to support my head. 

“Grandma, can I ask you something?” I inquired. 

“Sure honey, anything,”

“Have you ever had any ghost encounters here?” I almost hesitate, not knowing if this is an appropriate time to ask. 

“This house? Not me personally, but Grandpa, yes,” She replied. “I’m not sure if it’s true though, you know how he is,”

Even though I wanted to ask, I really just wanted to find out myself. Something in this house was trying to get my attention, and I was gonna find out what it was. Dreams always mean something, after all. 

“You know, this recipe was always your father’s favorite, it’s so sad he’s gone.” That’s when it hit me. This isn’t happening for nothing. 

Throughout the day, I kept having these weird signs of my dad. These only happen whenever I am with my Grandma, and it’s almost every time I am with her. It’s like my dad is trying to communicate with us through these little signs that happen whenever we are together. 

My grandma and I were parking at our hotel once, and coincidentally parked directly next to a black Comaro, which is the same car my dad had owned. I still remember everything about that car. The smell of little trees car air fresheners mixed with the smell of cigarettes still remained in that car. I still remember that smell while driving in that car and listening to Alice in Chains and 311 for hours. We would then stop at Kwik Trip for our norm - Argo ginger tea and a chocolate donut. Even though I was only ages 6 through 10, I still remember every single feeling like it was yesterday. 

I wanted to find something, an answer. I wanted to recreate my dream tonight and see if anything would happen. I wanted to carry down my dad’s interest in the paranormal. 

I still remember the time me and my dad went out to 7 bridges, a place rumored to be haunted. I hid behind him the whole time while he had night vision goggles on. 

“Daddy, I’m scared..” I would rant, looking behind me constantly to the open woods and latching onto his arm tightly. 

“Honey, check this out, you can see everything through these goggles!” He would tell me. Thinking about it now, I would do anything to go back to ghost hunting with him just one more time. 

I find myself once again sitting on the edge of my grandmother’s bed, thinking about all of the memories with my father. I knew his spirit still remained, and if it were to be anywhere, it would be in the house he grew up in. 

Repeating exactly what I did in my dream, I get up from the mattress watching it rise and then slowly and consciously walking up to the rusty doorknob. Slowly raising my hand up to it and holding it for a second before opening it, making sure I did everything as I did in my dream. 

I open the door, not hearing a creak. There I am face to face with the same living room I saw in my dream and the same living room my dad grew up in. However, it wasn’t exactly the same - It wasn’t scary, rundown and old, it was more peaceful and undisturbed. 

Hesitant, I stare at the same old black coat that used to be my dad’s. I stare at it and imagine exactly what happened in my dream. As you’d expect, it just sat there, useless and unhelpful. 

As I was waiting for nothing, I started hearing faint footsteps coming toward me. I felt my heart drop and I started backing up as they got closer and closer. Oh no, oh no.. I could feel the weight of each foot step become heavier and heavier as it came toward me. I started to feel terrified again, but I told myself to just deal with it. 

“You know how your dad always used to say goodnight?” I jumped in fear with my hand over my heart, realizing it was just my grandma coming out of the bathroom. 

“Oh no, did I startle you?” My grandma chuckles. I gasp in relief, trying to catch my breath. 

“N-no, of course not,” I stuttered. “What were you saying about my dad?”

“When he said goodnight, he would always say, “Goodnight, sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite!”” She laughed while wiping her makeup off with a makeup wipe. 

“You’re sure right, he always knew how to make me smile,” I agreed. 

“Should I tuck you in now?” She insisted, putting her makeup wipe in the trash. 

“I would love that.” I walk into the bedroom with relief and take a deep breath before sitting back on the ledge of the bed, allowing myself to relax and feel safe. I unplugged my nightlight and set it on my dresser. Suddenly I felt comfort in this house instead of fear. I knew my dad’s spirit and his love for ghosts would come back to me one day, but this time, I wasn’t afraid.