[This is an older dream I still remember vividly, and it's part of why I named this blog.]
I'm standing in an empty grass field, about 300 yards off from an old 1920's era northeastern mansion that backs up to a large sea. The grass field is massive, ringed on all sides by forest or sea, and the section opposite the front of the house extends further towards the down. This house was abandoned during the Great Depression, so I'm in presumably in the US somewhere.
For some reason I am investigating this house. I was hired, or had taken an interest in it, and have walked across the land nature reclaimed to check it out. Clearly something happened to the yard area to cause the trees to not retake it as well. It is eerily quiet here, with just the mild breeze from the ocean. I start walking towards the house, and I notice that the outside, though worn from weather and seemingly disuse, is still in tact. The windows are dirty, but whole, and nothing on the roof appears broken. What then catches my eye is that the interior, from what I can see from here, looks to be untouched, with furniture and curtains and everything still inside.
Another thing that's odd is the yard is filled with ravens. The are just milling around, further off from the house, and staying on the forest-side of a semi-circle divot in the grass that loops before the house. It was probably a roundabout for old cars to use to pull up in front. but none of the ravens will cross that divot. Suddenly. one of the curtains in the window moves, and I immediately take a defensive posture. At this point I start to circle the house, to get around to the back where it hits the sea.
The back is a sharp change from the front. It's like someone sliced through the house and straight into the ground. The broken wooden slat walls are splintered like something broke out from it, but the ground is worn away like erosion, like water shed from the house during a storm. The only thing extending from the back of the house into the water is a perfectly in tact dock. It has rope, moorings, and even a more modern motorboat docked there. This increases my suspicion that someone is inside, and must be using the house for something. Though I can't figure out how they would keep it in good condition when the entire back is missing.
And what puzzles me even more, is what happened to it that caused the house and ground to suddenly be removed. As I'm trying to work this out, the ravens, who had been content to just stare, start cawing and flapping, still not crossing the divot. Then, I hear a loud rumble, like the bass of a train coming down the track, as the divot deepens, and a shimmering light appears before the house. Out on the sea, I see what appears to be a small yacht on the horizon, approaching the back dock.
~~ [ The dream jumps backwards in time. ]
I'm driving through a sleepy suburb. It's a Saturday afternoon, still the heat of the day, so most people are inside cooling off or resting in the shade. I'm tracking down a stolen bicycle and I suspect that someone's going to pawn it off during a yard sale, because it seems the easiest way. Saturdays are prime yard sale times, and with all these neighborhoods, a quick drive should give me some leads quickly. As I'm passing by various single-story houses, mostly brown and beige tones made of wood and stucco, with small yards and driveways.
While driving, I'm listening to an audiobook about the history of the area, and it is describing some of the railways. This was one of the first places to really adopt the rail system, which was probably due to one of it's biggest families building their large estate near the lake at the edge of town. The family was wealthy, and it got it through some sort of economic trade. And to show off both the estate and aid in trade, they built a fork of the railroad that ran right past the front of their manor, making a sweeping arc in front of the site before looping over to a shipyard further down the coast.
As this is being explained, and it goes into details about the rail paths and the shipping, I spot a house that has a yard sale, and in the garage are hundreds of bikes. Like a showroom for a store. I pull the car abruptly into the driveway and sprint to the garage, to inspect the bikes. As I get in there, all the people who were around scatter, running to hide.
~~ [jumps back to me in front of the yard, with the rumbling sound.]
The ravens are flying all around now, not trying to attack me, but clearly upset at the events occurring. I hear and feel the rush of wind as if a train ran past, and the dirt and grass plunges into the earth as if something were pulling it under. It makes a perfect rectangular cut, but the grass is still in tact at the bottom, not even bent. It's just like it was lowered 5 feet into the ground, on command.
The shimmering stops, and I can see the yacht docked now. I race to the side, the ravens have landed again and are watching me. Like they want to see what I do, or are somehow aware of what's happening. I dash to the side, trying to get a view inside the house from the gaping back hole. There's nothing visible. Just new boxes, stacked by the yacht. Then, as I study the windows, and notice some movement, the boxes have moved. Some are on the yacht now, and new boxes have been set out. But I don't see anyone move. I suddenly decide there is something to this transfer of goods, and it must be why people think the house was abandoned. It's all some front for whatever is going on here, but I have no idea how they are moving things invisibly, or what the train has to do with it either, but something is clearly happening that is invisible.
[I woke up at this point, and recalled the archaic term for a flock of ravens was a "conspiracy," which seemed apropos considering their perceived knowledge of the situation from my dream.]
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