The possession during my waking hours was not as bad as my dreams.
First, the blanket would fold over and cover me entirely; a voice screamed in my head, "Why?" The walls in my bedroom would push out toward the center, nearly crushing me. Then I'd see Mrs. Preston's spirit standing at the door, shaking her head with a look of disgust on her face. "Don't be like me and bring any kind people into your house," she warned. You never know what they bring with them, yeah?""Help me, Mrs. Preston, please," I begged her.
"Go look at my apartment when you get a chance," she said. "Go look in my butsudan; you going find something can help you. Me, no can help, too late already."
I'd wake up from the dream, thinking I'd find Mrs. Preston's door open, but the building manager had it locked. How was I supposed to get in? Luck would have it that Mrs. Preston's grandkids would show up later in the week to clean her apartment once the investigation was done. I had to make friends with them and be as kind and helpful as possible. You see, it didn't quite go that way; Mrs. Preston was a Japanese woman who married Mr. Albert Preston, a career military officer. After Mr. Preston passed away, the only son they had together wanted nothing to do with her. So, from his first marriage, Mr. Preston's kids came to care for their stepmother's affairs. Again, just my luck that they were born and raised southern baptists and wanted nothing to do with Mrs. Preston's butsudan. So, I volunteered to take it off their hands. In it, I would, later on, find a mummified dog. What in the actual hell?
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