The House on Marine View Drive

I know what I want to do. What I have to do. I want to learn how to play “I Never Told You” by Colbie Callilat on the guitar (singing included) and sing it to Devan when I get back from China.

Maybe that is Darron’s song.
Is it possible I feel Darron’s energy?

I keep feeling like I’m having dreams of dancing with God (while falling asleep talking to him.) I remember saying, “You know, I don’t care what you look like, the brightness is too bright to even tell. But I believe in you all the same”
And these dreams were so vivid, I was feeling myself still awake and listening to my Pandora and could hear songs like Taylor Swift and an 80’s female pop singer.

But I remember thinking a couple of times in the past, that Maybe Darron died and now he’s looking over me. I don’t know why, I feel like he should be back in Utah by now. Not to be romantic with me, but to just let me know he is alive and healthy. Okay, so maybe I day dreamed about it a few times, but the part about his safety means more.
So I was thinking, “Maybe it’s him? Is he giving me [more than plenty] the signs I have asked for?”

How do you know when you get a sign? How do you know if it’s not a day dream, a wish, a prayer, a scene you want to happen, a scene you don’t want to happen? Is it your conscious that plays out everything and you just pick & choose out of the group and say, “Ummm, I think I like these the best. So, yep! I’m going to go with that.”

When do you decide right from wrong?


Well, I’m back writing, from when I just stopped a few spaces above, I have let time pass a little over a half hour. The songs on my Pandora are getting more and more intense. I feel as if they are switching people talking through the songs. I keep having images of me begging God to please keep me safe, images of both Darron and Devan standing above my casket telling me the things they never told me when I was alive, images of Devan and I, images of Darron standing at my doorstep, images of Darron ghosting beside me and watching over me; protecting me from the danger I feel I am about to face.
All of these songs, which are playing on my Kate Voegele Radio (the happiest radio I have, I’m pretty sure on my list) are telling me to leave where I am. To get out. Get out before something comes for you.

There are no curtains covering these windows. The door frame has an eery light coming out from behind it, in the kitchen. I’m in an unfamiliar house and even though my friend Sergio is amazing for letting me stay here, I feel very uncomfortable in this room. In this house. I can almost feel the history. Feel the coldness; and not just from the beach weather air. My hands are shaking, my eyes are burning, and I am too scared to even turn my neck in any direction. I don’t know whether I have an active imagination or not, but I have to leave. I have to get out of here.

[10 minutes go by]

I just tried again to sleep. This is obviously not going to happen. I could sit awake all night, but what good will that do me? I just heard the most terrifying grumble come out of the cat’s throat in the kitchen. There is definitely someone outside my door. I’m frozen.
What was that? A stomp? Did someone just try to stomp on the cat? The cat just hissed back and now there is nothing. No noise… the footsteps moved nowhere. Mind you, the floor is creaky. Even when I walked through the house as I got here, the floor creaked. And I am a fairly light person. Two creaks, and just quiet. Are they just standing there? Are they getting ready to come get me? You should see the position I am holding myself. Arching up from my elbow, propped to lean from my side, with dead locked stare at the door. Waiting to meet whoever is on the other side. Ready to fight, if I have to. Please God, help me.
Again, now, the cat is in a fight with something out there, I hear it coming closer to the door and see a shadow down at the bottom of the doorway. My entire body is bombed with shakes and terror. I can feel my breathing shorten. I can feel the blood draining from my body. I’m about to start screaming and crying. I can feel nothing good in this room.
I need to leave. I need to get out. I’m sorry Sergio, but your house has something evil in it. An evil I cannot explain beyond how I felt.
I need to call my brother.

[just past midnight]

My brother was definitely right about the San Diegon streets being unsafe. I couldn’t wait inside that room for one whole minute. After staring at the door as I am on the phone with my brother, I finally grow the courage to get out of the bed and turn the light on. I keep my eyes locked on the knob as I pull my sweatshirt on and zip my bags closed. I’m holding it closed as I put my shoes on. Pray. 1,2,3 RUN!
As I walk out the front door, I see two of the cats, just staring up at something. Almost in a daze. Staring with protective looks on their faces. I pray for them and leave.
The neighborhood does not make me feel any safer. I am a small girl with a backpack on and a big pink duffel bag. It’s dark outside, and I am not as tough as I make myself out to be. I am no Liam Neeson. I can’t fend for myself. I call my brother and force him to stay on the phone with me until I get into his car. Immediately feeling worlds better.

I slept soundly once I got to his house, by the way.
The house at Marine View Drive, will no longer suffocate me.