Black house.

I dreamed of the black house last night, in what little sleep I got. There's not much left, after waking up. There was farmland... huge rambling old mansions (that were not the House), a wealthy and handsome older land and business owner with predilections and a family. I... minded, or tutored, his children periodically and I'm fairly sure he meant to kill me. Our peace was thinly veiled, we kept one another close for spying. I think we both knew, and both knew we knew the other.

Then there was my house, the decaying Victorian that I live in now, in an apartment cut from a few of its original rooms. The tiny sink in my washroom was backed up (not uncommon, in real life). Every time the toilet ran (often, it doesn't seal well), water came shooting out of the drain, except then it became smoke, then motes of dust, then whirling clumps of feathers that turned over and over in the air and wouldn't settle. When I took the plunger to the sink to clear up the block, blood came up into the bowl from the pipes underneath.