After such a strange dream, you wake up in the morning wondering could that house be real?The day begins the same as always: a hot black coffee, a bit of music, and the morning news. Then a shower, and off to work. For a while, the thought of haunted houses fades away, buried under deadlines and the endless demands of the office. Everyone seems to need something from you today.Time slips by quickly. When afternoon comes and the noise quiets a little, your thoughts drift back to that old house from your dream. The image of it still lingers somewhere deep behind your eyes.

You open your laptop and start searching the internet, of course. “Old crimes in old houses”  that’s your first search. You find a few cases that seem interesting, but none quite match what you’re looking for. One is about a model poisoned by candies hmm… no knife, no struggle, just poisoned sweets. A strange story, fascinating, but not the one.

There are plenty of recent crimes too, men killing women for foolish reasons. Some people call it femicide, demanding justice, punishment. But you brush past the headlines and return to your real search.

Now you try looking for old houses in your city with similar architecture to the one in your dream. If you can find the house, maybe you can find its story. You narrow the list down to a few that resemble it, large, aged buildings with gardens and forgotten beauty. You dig for details:

Were there crimes in any of them? When were they built? Who lived there? Some are over a hundred years old hmm… that explains their haunting charm.

You wonder if you should go and see one in person. It’s getting late, but the curiosity is stronger than the fatigue. You close your laptop, leave the office, and type the first address into your phone. Too far. You try another. Still too far. A few more, until one appears hmm… just three kilometers away. That’s close enough. It’s raining lightly tonight, but it doesn’t bother you. You start walking, feeling the drizzle on your face, the chill of the wind, the scent of wet pavement. Something about it feels right, as if the night itself is leading you somewhere.

And there it is a beautiful old building, just as you imagined over a century old, though time has not been kind to it. The garden is overgrown, leaves scattered like forgotten memories. It’s close, but not quite the house from your dream. You glance around, hoping to find someone to ask who lives there, but the street is empty. The rain has driven everyone inside. No luck tonight.

You start walking home, eyes scanning every old facade, every cracked window, every shadowed gate. When you finally return, you take a hot shower, make some tea, and sit quietly for a while. Then you go to bed. You hope the dream will come again. You wish it will show you more. You want it to reveal what it’s trying to tell you. But this night, there are no dreams. Just a deep, quiet sleep.Tomorrow, the search continues.