You're not sure how to smoothly segue into the topic, so you just come out and say it. "I've... been reading a book about haunted houses, and it sounds a lot like the stuff we're dealing with. ...Not as bad yet, but disappearing doors are definitely on the list."

"Huh," Kate remarks. "Anything in the book about undisappearing those doors?"

"Not yet," you reply. "It says houses get like this because they don't... uh... feel like houses. Like, y'know how it's always old, abandoned places that haven't been lived in in forever? The house kind of... forgets how to house, if that makes any sense."

"It does not," says Kate. "But fuck it, I'm down for whatever. We making big signs that say YOU ARE A HOUSE, or what?"

"I'm thinking..." What are you thinking? "I'm thinking maybe we just need to treat it like a house...? I'll look into getting more furniture, and maybe we can do more like... casual hanging out in the house, instead of just treating it like a gate to the dream world."

"I'll tell Cici, and I'll keep an eye out for free shit," Kate states. "The house does have some big going out of business vibes with all the empty space."

You smile a little. "Thanks. ...Oh, shit, while I'm thinking about it: you guys should try another game before bed, just to see. I think Captemon's the only one I haven't tried yet, but it might make for a better control experiment if you guys try Mustachio, since we don't know if accomplices even get--"

"We got it," Kate chuckles dryly. "Don't worry."

"Oh! And the tradesman mentioned something about a miasmatic wound--"

"Cici's on it," Kate adds. "She remembers. You're good."

Deep sigh.

Alright. Cool.

It's fine. They have it under control.

"Thank you," you tell Kate.

"S'no problem. We got this my dude, it's gonna be fine. I'll seeya tomorrow."

"--Oh, and when you talk to Marlow tomorrow don't forget toaskaboutrecordingequipment--!" Click.

You finish the section of the book you were on. The remainder of the passage talks about how, after a certain point, there really is no coming back for a haunted house. It forgets what being a house even means, lost in its alien sensations and its newfound existence as... well, something capable of feeling, and something capable of forgetting. A house ill to such a degree cannot be salvaged or purified; the entire structure, down to its conceptual level as a thing called a house, is blighted. The only way to stop it beyond that line is to dismantle it, piece by piece until there is no proverbial teddy bear, only cotton and fabric and stitching again.

Then scatter the pieces.

Scatter them to places no one will find them.

Burn them.

Destroy them, utterly, if possible.

Every fragment. Every plank. Every strip of wallpaper.

The house has forgotten what it is to be a house, after all;

rules about the minimum shapes and sizes of houses no longer apply.

You fall asleep on Heather Halford's couch.

You dream about you, and Lora, sitting on the big hill that overlooks most of Addersfield.

You remember that day perfectly--Lora telling you she'd rescue you from this hellhole, one way or another. She said she'd burn down half the town if she had to, but someday... someday she would save you from Addersfield.

You smiled and replied, "Not if I save you first."

She doesn't say anything in the dream, though.

Neither of you do.

You only sit there, in silence

content just to be together

you, and Lora, and the two flickering moons slowly eating a putrid yellow sky.

You have never been so calm.

You wake up on Heather's couch, shaking, furious at nothing but your own brain.

It's about 9:30 am.