Color Fountains in the Living Room (The Dream Factory)

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See “The Dream Factory” for a full list of my shared dreams.

This wasn’t a dream, per se, but it was really, really weird and dreamlike.

I am 34 years old at the moment, and one thing you ought to know about me is that I have an incredible long-term memory. Now, my ability to memorize information for a test is crap…always has been…but I have very vivid memories of childhood, even from a very young age. I’ve recounted incidents that occurred when I was as young as three and four—incidents that there are no pictures or records of, but that my parents recall only after I paint the scene. I don’t remember everything of course, but what I do remember, I remember very, very well.

With that said, this experience takes place when I was maybe four or five. I know this because it occurred in our old house (my folks have only ever lived in two since I’ve been born) and we moved out of that house when I was five or six. Our next-door neighbor had a dog that was old and always lay on their front porch until his owners got home. One day, he got confused in his old age and sat on our front porch instead of his own. When we got home from the store, he growled at us and when my mom tried to enter the house he bit her on the butt!

This was not part of the dream—it really happened—and later that week two police officers came by the house to file a report about the incident. It was evening time, at least it was dark, and I remember very vividly how they sat on the living room couches asking my mom questions. My sister and I (she would have been two or three) had presumably just had a lot of sugar (at least we were full of energy) and were running and spinning and falling around the room making enough noise to constantly have to be shushed by our mom. If memory serves me right, my dad wasn’t home from work yet.

Anyway, at a point I got really, really dizzy from spinning around so much and the weirdest thing happened. I’m sure most people won’t believe me—I was, after all, a little kid—but I swear, I started seeing like digitized water shooting out of the carpet and high enough to reach my sternum. Several “spouts” shot up in random arches and then reconnected with the carpet, leaving no puddles or anything like that. It’s not like I could feel this hallucination, but I sure could see it. I recall nudging my mom as she was answering questions from the police. I remember asking her, “What are all those color things?” Each time she hushed me up and the police officers paid me no notice. But I remember it vividly and that they continued for a bit (though the duration may have been muddied by my memory of it). I also remember asking her again what they were after the police left. She said I was imagining it (and clearly, I was).

That night when I went to bed, however, I remember lying on my back looking at the ceiling. The hallway light was on, so I could see enough of the room where I wasn’t by objects playing tricks on my eyes. I saw more of these hallucinations on the ceiling, but more faintly than before.

I don’t recall seeing anything like this the next day or any day after that, but the memory stuck in my head. When I got old enough to process it more, I always wondered (and still do) what the heck was going on with my brain that led me to believe I was seeing digitized colors shooting out of the ground and ceiling in arches like water.



About authorphilpartington

Phil is a writing enthusiast of many years, having been published in numerous online and national print trade and sports publications over the past decade. He has spent the past five years delving back into the world of fiction writing, focussing on the fantasy, horror and suspense genres. Deshay of the Woods is his first novel.
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