Our dreams occupy spaces, some of which endure across the nights. The space re-emerges, sometimes repeating the dreamt event, at other times, changing use, becoming the site for new dreams. In the new dreams, the space itself can morph, acquire rooms, change dimensions.
I had a strong sensation of the architectural uncanny when I first stayed in a London hotel with this staircase. This was the very site of a strange series of dreams. There were doors and mirrors and openings, exactly so. People were behind the doors, in separate worlds somehow. Ghosts were trying to escape, or beckoning without moving for me to walk through. All I could see were the mirrors on the doors, and the staircase.
It reminded me of my final haunting – at Church Farm. The ghost occupied the end room on the top floor. There was nothing except a discomfiting sensation and a sense of loss. The ghost was of a woman who died after seeing a hanging in the nearby town. Her presence lingered. She grew used to me sitting in the room, bearing some kind of witness.
I now keep staying at this hotel, in the expectation that something will happen there. And every now and again I use the stairs, not the lift. I stand and wait. Nothing happens. The ghosts have moved further away.