The House Of Many Rooms

In the house of many rooms someone sleeps. Someone can be anyone, so the sleeper is you. I'm awake because I've finally understood the house of many rooms is no place to sleep. Floors creak even when a cat pads from room to room. When the wind blows, walls shudder, windows shake against their frames. The wind whistles over the roof, and tiny clots of dust fall down the chimney, down to the fireplace, into the living room. Someone could choke on nothing there. But someone is asleep, breathing the dirt in and out, while knives flash in the kitchen, hammers pound in the workroom, and all the beds sag under the weight of ghostly presences. I'm here to tell you, stay awake, in the house of many rooms.