Waverly Hills

    Venturing into the eerie depths of Waverly Hills Sanatorium, my companions and I weave through the dilapidated remnants of what was once a bastion of healing. This place, with its dark history and whispered tales of spectral hauntings, holds a reputation as one of the most haunted locations in the world.

    Through broken doorways and along crumbling corridors, we traverse the decaying labyrinth that time has forgotten. These weathered walls bear the weight of countless stories, the echoes of suffering and anguish lingering in every gust of wind.

    Rooms upon rooms reveal themselves to our curious eyes, each with its own macabre tale to tell. The ravages of time have left their indelible mark, reducing this once grand establishment to a mere ghost of its former self.

    Yet, amidst the debris and decay, we stumble upon a sight that captures our attention—a shattered statue, the remnants of a monkey frozen in a permanent state of destruction. Some have dubbed it "The Monkey King," a moniker that carries an air of both reverence and foreboding.

    As I gaze upon this twisted relic, I cannot help but wonder about the secrets it guards. Was it a symbol of mischief and playfulness, or does it carry a darker significance, a portal to the otherworldly? The absence of ghosts may deceive the senses, for this forsaken place holds secrets that lie beyond the realm of the visible.

    Whispers of forgotten tragedies resonate within these crumbling walls, even if their apparitions elude our mortal gaze. The absence of specters does not diminish the palpable weight of the past, nor does it quell the uneasy sensation crawling up my spine.

    In this desolate chamber, where the monkey's shattered visage looms like a grim specter of the past, I find myself ensnared in a web of curiosity and trepidation. The absence of ghosts may deceive, but beneath the surface of this forsaken abode, a maelstrom of forgotten souls and dormant spirits awaits its moment to materialize.

    Waverly Hills Sanatorium, a place where the boundaries between the living and the dead blur, holds its secrets close. And as we wander through its desolate halls, the sense of anticipation grows, for the truth, like a slumbering beast, waits for the opportune moment to stir from its restless sleep.

I wake up

The Ebbon Mansion

Nightmare 1/29/17

I enjoy exploring abandoned places, especially scary places. I'm on vacation in Africa with a friends family. There is a mansion here that is famous worldwide for how haunted it is. I have seen videos on youtube of people exploring it. In one video, two men explore the mansion and don't make it out alive.

The father in the family suggests that we go check it out. They are all excited. As much as I like haunted, abandoned places, I do not plan on coming along.

We arrive at the mansion. We walk through a security gate. They have it set up like it's an amusement park ride. One part of the building is normal, they use it for business, it is clean, the electricity works, it's quite nice. But the other part contains the halls where ghosts tread. Grime covers the walls. The lights don't work.

We start in the nice part of the building, sort of looks like a cafeteria mixed with a bookstore. Lots of people are here, awaiting their turn to venture through the dark zone. It gets to be our turn. My nerves are going at a million miles an hour. I do not want to be here. This family has no idea what they have signed up for. We start through the darkness. We end up in a large locker room bathroom. I can't take it anymore. I see a door to the outside. It's heavily locked. I kick it hard and break it down. I jump through to the outside. Some security guards at the gate see me and yell at me.

A woman who works at the Ebbon mansion needs my help. She is an investigator trying to find a thief who is still in the building. We go to the mall part of the mansion where there is three levels, but nobody else is here. We see a lady running. It's the thief. She chases after her, jumping from the third floor to the second floor landing, like James Bond. Dream ends.

I wake up

Fixer Upper

Dream 1/13/17

     I know a girl named Heather. Her family owns a store/restaurant. The restaurant is in her home. I visit it. It's set up much like a hospital cafeteria. You get the food that you want and then you check out. I grab a Snickers bar. When I run my debit card at the check out line, the card comes back declined. It's embarrassing, "son of a bitch," I yell. I tell the cashier that I'll put the candy bar back, and I leave.

     My sister has just bought a new house. A fixer upper. A mansion that has been left to rot. She has our family and many of her friends over to fix the place up. My dad and I explore the giant house to see what treasures and secrets we may find. The place is falling apart. We must be careful where we step. Most of the family and friends are in the center lobby of the house on the second floor. My dad and I search for the attic. We ask my sister where the stairs are that lead there. She tells us. We look and eventually find them. I find a bunch of old clothes from the 80's and 90's era. I grab a retro sweater and tell my dad to wear it because it looks much like one he used to have. I dawn an old jacket as well. We stand in the balcony of the lobby room where everyone can see us. I yell for my mom to look. She does. Everyone gets a kick out of our new stylish rags. Dream ends.

I wake up