This one was exceptionally creepy, though. We lived in this ramshackle house perched absurdly on a mountaintop like in one of those weird cartoons, held hundreds of feet above the mountain top by a spindly wooden structure. The floorboards were inches apart, old, and were rotting. I could actually see hundreds of feet down to what would be our death if we fell, just by looking through gaps in the floorboards. There was something about some kind of ancient treasure, it was important, but as I was holding that treasure (a sword, I think) I looked through the floorboards and got so scared I dropped the thing and down it fell, scaring me even more. I hastily clambered upstairs, which wasn't much better. In fact, the upstairs was extremely creepy, making the rest of the house look downright charming (realtor: "Here we have this lovely erm... Victorian five-bedroom house, a charming little piece. See how it's perched on this mountaintop? Just whistle three times and a flock of vultures will carry you into the village just north of here, over by Count Dracula's castle.")
What was worst was that I was seeing ghosts while upstairs. I tried telling them to go away and tried to hide, but then suddenly the ghost world became very real and I was in an old 1950's soda shop talking to one of the ghosts. I was asking him why the other ghosts couldn't hear me. He told me, "Oh, they can hear you, they're just ignoring you."
Then I woke up.