The Recurring Dream is a scary story. It is inspired by an old short story called “The Dream” by AJ Alan.
For most of my life, I’ve had a strange recurring dream. It started when I was only 8 or 9 years old, and I still have the dream today. It’s always the same, but some details are different every time.
In the dream, I find myself in a large, dark house, walking up a long set of stairs. The walls are all white and the carpet is pitch black. There is a clock on the wall and I can see that it is close to midnight. The whole house seems to be deserted and everything is deathly silent.
At the top of the stairs, I walk through a massive mahogany door and find myself in a huge, dimly-lit room. The room is full of people, sitting in rows. Their chairs are all facing a stage.
There is a person on the stage, sitting in a red leather armchair and the audience are watching intently. The person on the stage seems to be speaking in a low voice, but from where I’m standing, I can’t hear what they are saying. Each time I have the dream, there is a different person on the stage.
There are never enough chairs for everyone in the audience, and those who come late â€“ like me â€“ have to stand up at the back. Sometimes, a vacant chair appears near the front. It’s always a mystery how this happens, because no one ever seems to leave. Whenever the vacant chair appears, the people standing at the back argue over who should take it.
“You go ahead,” says one.
“Oh no, thatâ€™s all right,” says another. “You have it.”
They often insist that I take a vacant chair, but something has always told me not to do it.
“Aren’t you going to sit down?” they ask.
I always shake my head and let someone else have the vacant chair.
One night, I recognized the person on the platform. It was a man who I knew very well. The next morning, I called him at work and his secretary answered. I told her I wanted to make an appointment to meet the man.
“I’m afraid you canâ€™t,” she replied. “He passed away. His wife found him dead in his bed this morning.”
Not long after that, I had the dream again and I saw another man on the stage who I knew. It was my next-door neighbor. He seemed to recognize me too, because he nodded at me.
The next morning, I called around to his house, but when I knocked on the door, there was no answer. I banged and banged on the door, but there was no sign of life.
After a while, I became worried and called the police. When they came and broke the door down, they found my neighbor dead in his bed. He died in his sleep of a sudden heart attack, they said.
I don’t know if it was just a coincidence that I dreamed about these two unfortunate people and they happened to die in exactly the same way, but now, every time I dream the dream and I notice a vacant chair, I always let someone else sit down, instead of me…