Victorian eaters

Last night I was feverish and my dreams were nightmarish. I was on a road trip with quite a few people stuffed into 1 car. John David was there. Erin was there. There were a few faces I can't make out now, but one Arabic girl named Matiya who, to my knowledge, does not exist in waking life.

We had stopped by a clearing with a beautiful old Victorian house. The house was perhaps three stories tall and painted a pastel color - some faint teal. It was very beautiful and every single window had curtains so you could never see inside. It was in a clearing, but surrounded by the woods. Murky sunlight still hit the house. The house was haunted, we knew. We had heard tales of how it ate its occupants and no trace of them was ever again found. I and two others got out of the car. To take a closer look...to clear my head. I am not certain why. But when I turned around, Matiya had driven off. The three of us left looked at the disappearing car in disbelief and though we screamed at it to stop, did not attempt to run futilely after it. A police cruiser pulled up and a cop named Clarke came out.

At first she was sympathetic and gave us good advice about where to stay for the night with our friends gone. I had adamantly told her we would not be staying in the carnivorous house. She nodded and agreed and said there was a good place in town, if we wanted to catch a ride with her. I was trying to make up my mind when we heard the roar of the car and Matiya came back. Everyone pooled out of the car.

Officer Susannah Clarke (for that is her name) suddenly changed her tune. She insisted we stay in the house, that with so many people, surely nothing would happen. I began screaming at her that if we stayed overnight at the house, we would die. Everyone watched the argument and chimed in momentarily to back me up.

I woke up, feeling flushed and hot and cold. I headed to the restroom to wash off my face and to pee, feeling fuzzy-headed and sore.