Last night I dreamed about the Winchester Mystery House YET AGAIN. I dream about it probably once a month, and have done so fairly regularly since I first visited there with my parents when I was about 7.
In the dream, Anthony and I were staying there with my stepsister and her husband and sons. Our beds were on this broad second-floor gallery, and our last morning there a sinister man with a black mustache served us brunch. He obviously hated us, and I was afraid he might be slipping poison into the food and drink. I glanced up and noticed a procession of ghosts serving themselves from a sideboard along the wall. I eavesdropped on their conversations, and discovered many of them saying perverse and obscene things.
Somewhere along the way my stepsister and her family turned into the cast of I Love Lucy. Anthony and I were moving furniture with them, and of course hijinks ensued. But the hijinks element was incongruous with the spooky setting and huge unwieldy gothic Victorian furniture.
Part of my dream was also the story of two children, a brother and sister, who were trapped in the Winchester House, and only the girl survived. She had to fight an evil ghost woman who wanted to trap her soul there forever. The ghost lured the girl up into the highest reaches of the house, even a vaulted attic. But the girl managed to trick the woman and cast HER into the heart of the house forever.
When the girl finally escaped the house and walked along the seashore, she came across a crab that had her dead brother's face, and realized he had been reincarnated. This was like a happy ending to their story, though, because she was glad his soul wasn't trapped forever in the Winchester House.