It was a stony room, cold and dark and musky and a bit like an old garage. I was in a spiral staircase and walking up towards a brightly lit and indiscernible scene. Vividly replaying my dream, I sat on my bed, head in my hands. “That’s right,” I thought, “the staircase.” I had just unveiled a paranormal mystery the likes of which were awe-inspiring, to say the least. They come to us, not the dead, not strangers from the past, but as ourselves. Configured into full sentence form in the morning, they left me with the beginning of what sounded like a future movie script right there in my journal: Upon waking in the dark hours of the middle of that night, I quickly jotted down a couple lines of scratchy, half-complete thoughts. It was so realistic that it jarred me from deep sleep. I had a dream one night that took me into a jolting and enlightening encounter with a ghost. The goal was to record all those midnight thoughts that seem so intensely important… and also to recall dreams and nightmares to relive the brain’s strangest moments.

There was a time when I kept a pen and notebook on my bedside stand. Some childhood nightmares still stand out, all these years later, but there is one in particular that cements itself in the shadows of my memory. The five-year-old brain is no match for the unknowns hidden in the dark. Always the culprit of fear, isn't it?īasements seemed creepy, forests held hauntings, and every day items would be made into bedroom shadows. I remember being afraid of the dark as a kid. Nothing out of the ordinary, just the run-of-the-mill mind tricks that most children go through. “Fear is wisdom in the face of danger.” – Mark Gatiss via Sherlock Holmes

Beyond shadow of any doubt this