The recurring dream began right after inheriting the old family lake house. It wasn't a nightmare in the traditional sense, but something much more deeply unsettling. In the dream, I am standing at the edge of the glassy water, and across the lake, an identical house sits in perfect, ghostly reflection. I see my own face in the water's surface, but my reflection isn't looking back at me. It's staring, with a kind of blank malice, at the house across the way. And every night, the feeling of unease gets worse.Last night, things changed. In the dream, a figure emerged from the mirrored house. It looked just like me, except its clothes were a different color, and its face was a mask of cold emptiness. I watched, a frozen spectator, as it walked down to the water. Its gait was an uncanny replica of my own, the way my arm swung, the subtle drag of my left foot. Then, the dream ended. I woke up in a cold sweat, the memory clinging to me like a shroud.I'd dismissed it as stress until this morning. I walked out onto my dock, the sun warm on my skin, and looked across the lake. Through the trees, barely visible, stood a second house. It was a perfect, crumbling replica of my own, and I'd never noticed it before.A chill snaked its way up my spine. An unnatural urge took hold of me, and I went inside to grab the binoculars that were always on the table by the window. As I brought them to my eyes, my breath hitched. The house was abandoned, dilapidated, a crumbling version of my own. But what made my blood run cold was the figure standing on its dock. It looked exactly like me, right down to the color of my clothes. And it was holding its own pair of binoculars, which it raised to its eyes as I watched.I could feel its eyes on me, even through the lens, and my hands began to tremble. In a panic, I backed away, stumbling inside and slamming the door. The sound echoed in the sudden, absolute silence.I sank to the floor, breathing heavily, my mind racing. A doppelgänger. A mirrored house. A recurring dream. It all fit together with a sickening click. The only question that remained was what it wanted.An hour passed. I managed to convince myself it was a hallucination, a trick of the light. But then I heard it. A faint creaking sound coming from the lake. Sck-sck... sck-sck....It was the sound of a boat being untied from a dock. I ran to the window, peering through a crack in the blinds. There, across the water, the identical version of me was stepping into a small boat.I watched in frozen terror as my doppelgänger began to row. Its movements were slow, methodical, the paddle dipping into the water with unnerving precision. With each stroke, it was getting closer.I knew what would happen when it reached my shore. It would step out of the boat, and then what? Would it try to replace me? Would it try to kill me? I didn't know, and the thought was more terrifying than any ghost story.With a jolt, I remembered the recurring dream. The figure had started on its side of the lake, just as this one had. But in the dream, it had always made it to my dock. It had always walked up to my house. And then, the dream always ended.The sound of the boat getting closer was the soundtrack to my panic. Sck-sck... sck-sck.... I knew that when the sound stopped, it would be over. There was no escape, no place to hide. All I could do was wait. And that was the most terrifying part of all.
