The next morning, Don regretted not being able to convince the others to leave the previous evening. It had been an uneventful evening, save for the nightmare he’d had. Under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t have bothered him, but the dream seemed more vivid than any other he could remember and it was the same dream he’d had the first night they were in the house.
He dreamed he was in the hallway on the third floor, standing outside the studio. The room was empty. He couldn’t tell with the other rooms as the doors were closed, but there was no light visible in the small space between the door and its frame. In the dream it was night and a thunderstorm raged outside, lightning flashing every few seconds, followed by deafening peals of thunder.
He tried to walk down the hall toward one of
