I wasn’t aware of where I was until it was too late. I had been dreaming some sweet dream of a happy childhood that wasn’t mine.  There was the so much joy there that I hadn’t thought he’d be there in the basement.  He’s always hiding in the places that I don’t want to see him.  He’s not real, or is he?  Whatever “he” is and whether or not he *is* real doesn’t matter.  He hides in the depths of dreams that might not even be my own.
I’m used to having control in my dreams. Mine are *all* mine and I have the power there, no one else, no _thing_ else.  But, not all of my dreams are mine alone, they touch on somewhere else that’s not quite here and not quite a dream.
It’s in these places, where this demon hides, in places that are not my own.  These foreign dreamscapes are usually kept from my waking mind, I’m sure it’s some defensive mechanism thats not just mine, but it keeps the fabric of our reality from bleeding into others.  My sense of self in these places is more vulnerable than anywhere else and since that same sense of self is what what gives me strength, it’s a powerfully dangerous place.
Time works different in these fringe places.  I’m almost always younger in these and always in some place that’s familiar but not.  I’ve never lived in a house with a basement, or even a ‘downstairs.’  It’s usually somewhere that neighbors aren’t too close.

This time, I was inside a house and had just stepped into the basement, which was “finished”. The stairs land at a hallway with a soft yellow glow, something a bit like unbleached cotton as a paint color and some kind of whitish-tan carpeting that reminds me of sand.  There’s a rug on top, with some sort of pattern that I don’t get a good look at.
As I walk forward into the hallway, I see three doors.  One to the left, that’s slightly open, the lights are on, but I already know that no one is in there or … no one alive?  I’m not sure what makes me think that, but I’m starting to feel a sense of dread building.  The door in front of me is closed, but the door to the right is opened, but there’s something wrong with the lights.
You’re close behind me and still completely caught up in the fun the moments before.  You put your hand on my shoulder as I push open the door to the right a bit more to let the light in.  I don’t quite understand what I’m seeing in the room before I’m already screaming “get out”, but I know it’s already too late.
I feel the demons grip on my heart as I wake with my heart pounding, feeling like I had just barely escaped death, a small part of me feels empty and hungry.

I didn’t make it this time, the demon won and I’m afraid I don’t even know what was at stake. It feels like whatever it was was terrible and I’m left with a feeling like I failed and cost the world something it really needed.
I wonder if that means that I left a world to die, at the mercy of whatever nightmare I’ve been chasing after all of my life… possibly more.

Whatever happened to that world, I’ll keeping chasing that demon.  Chasing it until I have erased it like it has those countless worlds that only knew love and joy until I found that bastard hiding in some basement.