My Last Dream

Flash Fiction

My Last Dream

I dreamt I found a secret room while trying to get all the junk and dusk out of the attic.

I was moving. Selling the house I had lived in, for over fifty years, with my late husband. He had lived there all his life. With him gone the house was too big and too quiet. My children, grown, settled in with families and jobs. They both lived too far away from the house to consider it. So, we all agreed to let it go.

I had all the time I needed to get ready, and after all those years there was much to sort and decide on. The attic kept getting put off because I knew, though there was not much in it, it was cluttered, and definitely covered with dust. Plus, you had to get up there on a shaky ladder to boot.

I assumed the dream was because I’d been dreading this project, and now had no other choice. Everything else was done. Up I went as soon as my morning requirements were finished.

The first thing I did was check all the things up there. There was actually less than I thought. Once they were sorted and downstairs, I had to deal with the dust. My plan, to dust and sweep all the dust out the hole in the floor, I could vacuum it easily downstairs. All went well. I was so proud of myself!

After the vacuuming, I took one last trip up, into the attic I would never see again.

There seemed a shiny spot near the back, did I miss something? I went over; there was the same door as in my dream! Thinking I must be asleep again, I opened the door.

And there was my husband, waiting for me.