The Way of Dreams

He recognized this place. It was the house he had grown up in. Though how he had come to be here now he had no idea.

But that was the way of dreams wasn't it? You found yourself in the middle of things as though you were an actor who had walked into the middle of a play.

Only there was no scene unfolding, no occupants to interact with. He stood alone in the middle of an empty living room, understanding the place was his now.

The walls were the color of coffee with too much cream. A color that did not match him memories. Which caused him to realize there were other things slightly amiss. Such as the sound coming from above. Footsteps lacking a cadence. Step,step,step.  Step.....step.  Step. Step,step.  Step....step.

It came to him it was the sound of someone searching. Searching perhaps for him.

The house no longer felt warm. His pulse boomed in his ears. He wanted to flee.

But as it often was in dreams his feet would not move. This was a dream wasn't it? He prayed it was.