Haunting Catherine Blaque 4
Erin LeFey Copyright 2011
June 5, 1946
I had the strangest dream last night. It was George. He was alive again and it was my birthday. George wanted to treat me to a special night out. The evening began with us getting dressed up in our semi-formal attire. (He was always so handsome no matter what he wore.) We took the car downtown to what he called my “special surprise evening”. I loved George’s surprises, he always took so much care and planning when it came to treating me. And to me, it never mattered what we did – what really mattered was that he designed the evening with me in mind. It was always my favorite things we did. He did this all out of love for me.
Well, I sidetrack myself. As you can tell, it was so vivid; I’m in tears as I write this and still shaking. Anyway, we went downtown and he had tickets to a concert by a new young country singer by the name of Margaret Whiting. It was marvelous! She was so good, and I can still hear the music ringing in my ears…
Afterwards we dined at the Maryland Club where several other couples met us for a late dinner. It was so wonderful. We stayed half the night eating, drinking, dancing and having a wonderful time. The dream was so real, I could feel him, smell him, and when we danced I felt the warmth of his whisper in my ear. My feet even hurt this morning! I remember us returning home to THIS house and him tucking me quietly into bed because I was so exhausted. He kissed me and whispered that he would be back up soon. My next memory was waking this morning
I woke up expecting to see him lying there, then I cried so hard remembering he was gone and I was all alone in this house. I got myself together though, put on my slippers and robe and went to the door to come downstairs. That’s when I was really kind of spooked for the first time. The dress I wore in the dream was neatly folded on the bedroom chair and my dancing shoes were neatly on the floor beside it.
I ran down the stairs and out to the porch immediately for fresh air. The car was not where I usually park it on the side of the house. It was parked in the space on the lawn closer to the front door. I ran back inside and pulled the door shut.
That’s when I came to write to you.
I don’t know what else to do. I loved dreaming of George. But it didn’t feel like a dream. I know it couldn’t have happened. I wasn’t drinking last night. I did turn in early because I felt depressed and I was thinking of him.
Other things around here are making me feel strange, like I’m not alone. It feels normal when the workers are here, or the maid comes by but when I’m alone, I feel like I’m not. Just the other day I was walking in the garden. When I got to the other end, I was slowly walking from patch to patch inspecting the new flowers coming up. The gardener has done a good job of bringing it back to life for it being a swampy garden. Each time I moved I could have sworn I heard footsteps moving with me. I thought of course it was my imagination until I stopped and sat down on one of the garden benches. At that point I heard several steps, and it felt like someone sat beside me. I sat frozen for a moment, and then felt warmth like a hand on my leg. That was just too much for me! I screamed and ran back to the house slamming the door behind me. You know what though; the footsteps ran behind me the whole way.
I think this solitude is too much for me. I’m going into town today even if it is to have lunch by myself in one of those fancy restaurants downtown. I was also given the name of a doctor that I think I will drop in on to make an appointment. I think I need something for my nerves. Perhaps I’m hallucinating, sleepwalking, or even something worse. I’m sure he can help. After that I’ll call one of the girls to see if there’s still an open invitation for Fourth of July. I need to get out more.
Besides I deserve a day out today away from this dark place. After all, it is my birthday.