By: Ryan Song
You know how sometimes you have a dream that is so realistic that you remember it forever? I once had a dream like that about the house I lived in back when was in Australia. The house was a small one-story house sitting on the side of the top of a hill, with a driveway that declined into the depths of the garage and a balcony outside the front door that overlooked the garage (see image below).
One night, I had a dream where I looked through old newspapers and found an article about the house, which detailed how it used to be the residence of a mass murderer who killed his victims in the garage and was eventually found drowned in a nearby river. People who lived in the house before my family have reported seeing bloody footprints appearing to “walk out” from the garage at dusk, immediately followed by creepy occurrences around the house such as seeing the ghost of the murderer.
Shocked, I went to report the details to my mother, but I noticed my grandfather standing on the balcony looking at the driveway outside. “It’s happening again,” he told me without taking his eyes off the driveway. I looked outside and noticed some marks on the ground. Under the blood red sky of the setting sun, it looked like there were bloody footprints making their way up the driveway.
I ran into the living room to tell my dad who was watching TV and eating peanuts, discarding the shells into a nearby trashcan. I recall seeing a bloody hand reaching out from the trashcan towards him and when I rushed over and kicked the bucket over, the hand retracted back into the trash bin. It was water that spilled out, no hand or peanut shells.
My dad refused to believe my words, and frustrated, I ran to tell my younger brother, who was taking a nap in his room at the back of the house. I breathed a sigh of relief when I entered the room and saw that he was still safe and sleeping. But when I got closer to wake him up, I saw something strange. There was a bald man with dark eyes lying behind them in the same bed. His dark eyes seemed to stare at the back of my brother’s head and as he reached a clawed hand over my brother towards me, I woke up. My heart was pounding so fast that it felt like my bed shook in unison with each beat.
In the morning I had explained the dream I had to my family, and I laughed with them about how unrealistic it was and how even in my dream, my dad was still so glued to the TV (like he always was), completely oblivious to the hand reaching up to him. After breakfast my brother and I headed downstairs to wait for my dad to take us to school, but I saw something on the driveway that stopped me dead in my tracks.
There was a stain a few meters from the garage door (just like the stains in the picture). It was a stain that had always been there since we moved into the house and it was something I saw every day when I walked in and out of the garage, so I never really paid attention to it. However, when I looked at it that morning, I noticed that it looked like a footprint.