It happened beyond the door

It Came From The Walls

I fear I don't have long to write. My dream if it is correct, has told me this is so. It was such a queer dream. I'll write what I remember of it down. I don't remember much of what happened before I retired for the day. I was at my desk in my library writing something. I can't recall what It was or why it isn't on the desk I sit at now.
I know what is on those pages is important. I'll stop talking about my disappearing memory. I know better than to waste the time I have left yapping about my runaway memories. I should get to my dream. I was writing my mystery essay then got ready for bed. Just like every night before this one. Nothing out of the normal happened. Everything was normal until I laid my head apon my pillow. Once I did so my mind was flooded with memories of my brother. As I write this I try to remember his name. It's on the tip of my tongue. "J" I believe it started with. My memory is so bad these days. My brother's name is beyond the point. After some time I finally got to rest. I don't remember the beginning of this unnatural dream I had. I remember an old television. It was playing an oddly familiar movie. The young woman on the screen made no sense as they spoke. I thought it was weird in my dream, but now I know it was because I was sleeping. I listened to them closely. I didn't understand a word they spoke. Something did stick out to me. "Nws yog tus uas yuav saw. Yuav tua tus uas kuv ntxub." After I put it into this search engine, I found this website to put It into. It says it is a language called Hmong. Translated it to "He is the one who will rise. Will kill the one I hate." I do not understand why my dream would say that. I do not hate anyone anymore. That's not the part that told me my death. I just thought I should get it down because it was weird and I don't want to forget it. Later on in the dream, I laid my eyes on my brother. He was 12 again. He did not talk nor blink. He stood straight up. Just out of sight. As if he was trying to hide but doing a pisspoor job at it. We were in my home. In my library. The same room I sit in now. I stood there looking around. Studying the dark brown walls in the little room. It was barely big enough to house my 3 bookcases and my desk. As I studied the room I would check if my brother was still there. He never moved at that moment. He would peek from behind one of my 3 bookcases. There are 2 that stand filled with books. One filled with items I've collected throughout my time on this earth. My brother would only hide behind one. He would hide behind the bookcase with my collection. I put a list of what sits on this shelf at the bottom of the page. I can't bear to look at it now. When I do I still see my brother. Hiding, peaking at me. This time he has a smile.  The smile that sits on his face seems a little unnatural. Slightly larger than what it was when he was alive. In my dream, he did not have this. He seems to mean no harm at the moment. The dream showed me how my brother died. My brother helped me see his death. The part I remember of the dream is that it started in my library. Me and my brother were staring at each other. I remember seeing him was a bit uncanny. Still, as he stands right behind me outside the dream as I write this very word I find him strange. He watches but I can't tell what he is feeling. In the dream, I was watching my brother hiding, watching me. We watched each other until we didn't. I can't say when or how but he was gone. I was staring at a wall. He was gone. Was he even ever there? He isn't at my shoulder now. I never saw him leave. I turned around in the dream to see my library door was wide open. I almost never leave it open when I'm in here. As I write this now it is closed.  This didn't seem weird to me in my dream. Now I see I shouldn't have gone through them. I shouldn't have followed my brother. In my dream, he was hiding. As he hid he peeked from around the doorframe. He didn't say a word but I knew he was begging me to follow him. As I walked through that opened door I watched him. When I got through the door, just as he did by the bookshelf, he was gone. I stood there in my hallway staring at the wall. I stared at the cream-colored wall because even in my dream I knew this was not right. I looked up from where my brother had hidden just moments ago to find his new hiding spot. It was in my room. I saw him eyeing me from the dark void that was my room. My room normally would have some light leaking in from the hallway light. In my dream, there was no such light. It was as if the doorframe from my room was a portal. A portal that ate all the light and let none though. Even in the dark nothingness that was my room, I could see my brother. I knew he wanted me to come to him. He wanted to show me something. He said these words without speaking. I did as my brother instructed. I walked into the void that was the room I slept in, in the real world my body lay on that very bed.
I did not see myself in my bed. Instead, I spied my brother. He was no longer 12 but much older. He slept so peacefully. I looked back to where my brother stood just seconds before, appearing to be younger. Now he slept in my bed. I now remember his name. Jace, that's my brother's name. My dementia is terrible.
I saw Jace sleeping in my bed. I'm not sure how long I dreamt but I know it felt like I was staring at my brother now an old man for hours. Then I felt it. A presence, I know I met it before. I'm not sure when I met it but I felt it was very, very old. Much older than me or my brother. Then as if it was waiting for me to look over to my light blue walls, it came out of them. It came out of every wall at once. I can not describe it to you. Its form is far beyond what human words can speak. I do not wish to remember it. I fear I will see it soon. My brother is peeking at me now from behind my door frame. The door is opened. He is waiting for me. I will finish this essay quickly so I can walk to my death. I believe me and my brother will die the same. No one has said so but I could feel it. I should write how me and my brother died. The creature crawled up to my bed. Its very form moved ever so slowly. Its noise so slimey. It barely touched my brother when I felt him die. I looked back at the being, but it was no longer there. Just then I woke up. In a few minutes, I'll meet the monster that's been with me my whole life. Always waiting. It's always been there. It always will be. To my family that reads this if you do, you will know my real passing. Not how I died according to the police. I will follow my brother now.

Sub note: This is his grandson. Unfortunately, I was one of the last to come to my grandfather's house. My family has taken what they'd like and left. Luckily, they neglected his writing. My grandfather loved to write. He and I shared that. I've read the note he wrote the day before he died and this one now. I now know how truly my great-grandfather had died. The rest of my family doesn't have that luxury or it's a curse.  I'm not sure what this knowledge is. I know I'll find out what this monster is. I'll keep the notes he wrote and put them in a notebook. I'll write everything I know about the monster in it and everything I learn. I'd like to keep everything I know about it in one place. My grandfather passed before he could make that list but the bookcase now holds some writing of his, A signed baseball, a taped football trophy, and pictures of our family. I am sure there was much more on it before my family got to it.