Footsteps

The DREAMS

I was in a house. My house. When I dream I am usually in some far away place that one could only reach in such a manner. I saw no point in dreaming otherwise. Dreams are supposed to take you away from what you’re familiar with, or put an unfamiliar and wonderful twist on something that’s already known. This was not the case tonight. In this dream I was awakened from a dream. I did not know what I dreamt I dreamt about, but it was no doubt terrifying. In my dream I had awoken to a noise.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

It was coming from above me. That sound.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

What was it?

It sped up.

Tap. Tap. Taptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptap…

Faster and faster. It sounded like someone banging something on the floor above me, perhaps with a hammer. But it was too rapid. Frightened, it took me a minute to comprehend a sound that had ceased as quickly as it had begun.

What was that? Footsteps?

They sounded light, sounded like someone running upstairs. But no one was here with me, or were they?

Where was this sound coming from?

The second floor? The attic?

It was possible that it would be on the second floor, although it sounded fainter. It couldn’t have been coming from the attic. It had been sealed off years ago by the previous owners. Was it them? I doubt it. Why would they come into my place at eleven at night just to tap, tap, tap on my floor and disturb my sleep? They didn’t have the keys to this place. I did.

Vermin, a burglar, or something else? I didn’t have the patience to invent a plausible excuse for something most likely confined by the boundaries of my dreams. And I was too tired to chase ghosts. So, I closed my eyes and went back to sleep.

I dreamt no more that night.

The next night it happened again. This time the taps were louder, more defined.

They almost sounded like they were closer, resonating from the floor right above me.

TAP. TAP. TAP.

They were a bit slower, but held the same composure, the same key as before.

TAP. TAP. TAP.

What was it? Why was it closer? I sprang to my feet to find out. I opened my bedroom door and shot up the stairs. I got to the door to the room that I had heard it coming from when I was in my bed. I turned the doorknob slowly. Without making a sound I opened the door to poke my head in.

TAP. TAP. TAPtaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptap…

It sounded like something was running away. There was only one way out.

I threw the door open, standing in the doorway, ready for a fight.

Nothing.

I was in my study. Only a desk, books, and a typewriter occupied the room. Inside this room, there was no real reliable place to hide. Not even under the desk. But I checked it anyway.

Nothing.

Something compelled me to turn around and look behind me. I did only to see that the door, which had been propped open, close on its own. There were no hands, wind, or anything else that could have pushed against it. I ran to the door, opened it, and ran downstairs in pursuit of this disturbance, practically tearing the house apart in the process. But, at the end of it all, I came up with just as I had before:

Nothing.

I gave up and retired to my chambers. Clearly, I needed more sleep.

It has happened for the third time now; this sound that now seems to have gotten closer still. It’s always when I’ve just settled into a dream: Always around eleven. Why eleven? Why so close?

This time it’s in my room. I could hear it by my bed. Filled with anxious fright, I arose from my slumber and, finding myself seemingly frozen to my bed, listened. I felt helpless to do anything else.

But I heard nothing. Just like the times before. Nothing. But how could this be?

I swear I heard the same tapping as I woke. And it was much louder and closer than before.

TAP, TAP, TAP, tap, tap, tap, tap, taptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptap….

It felt right on top of me, right inside my ears.

But not now.

As soon as I sought to rationalize its existence, the sounds stopped. Now there was nothing. Now there was only the sound of my breathing.