The Ghost and the Waterbed

We were staying for the night in the remnants of an old commune. The group had begun to make camp in a newer building on the grounds. They told stories of a sleeping quarters not far from there. The area had a violent history and strange things had happened there long after the violence. I went to investigate. The sun had just gone down and I let myself in. The room was dark and, although it felt dirty, I could not see clearly enough to establish whether it was or not. I came to what I recognized as the outline of a bed in the center of this small room. The bed took up a good portion of the floor space and there was little room for anything else in there. I climbed onto the bed and laid down, facing the dark ceiling and fell into an early stage of sleep. I felt my body move from one side of the bed to the other as if it were floating in a pool of water, being manipulated by blowing wind. I awoke the next morning with a newly found lucidity. I hadn’t meant to sleep. I hadn’t meant to stay as long as I did. I knew I needed to get back to the others. I stood up from the bed and looked around the floor. It was wood. Random items laid around the room, but it was mostly clean. Looking for my shoes, I found another pair, belonging to the previous resident, perhaps. They rested in a hole in the wood floor where on of the blanks had been removed. I found my shoes and left.

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