Houses are Deep after Waking from Dreams

I wake in the night after vaguely disquieting dreams. I was renting a house - or a series of rooms - from a famous serial killer. His son was there too. The serial killer had forgotten something that was vital to my survival. He may have forgotten he was a killer, or that he was renting some rooms in his large house out to me. There was a great deal of tension. I was worried for my safety. I told Em that if she ever got a text from me that said 'FW' it meant that I was in trouble. The house was tall and narrow. Grey rain, gloomy afternoons. Sat on the sofa with the killer and his son, hoping that what I didn't want to be remembered would stay forgotten.
When I woke, the flat had that curious property that all homes do after one wakes from vaguely disquieting dreams, that of there being more rooms or other levels than there actually are. As I lay in the cozy eerie darkness, may half-sleep listening could detect the sound of doors being opened on downstairs floors (there are only workshops below us) and I could almost feel other rooms beween, for instance, my room and the living room (they are next to each other). These rooms felt blue and cold, empty and oddly alluring. I fell asleep again.
In these last few minutes before I leave for work, the house has resumed its normal dimensions, but these extra floors and secret rooms, curled up nooks and crannies, sneaky as cats, are here somewhere, waiting for the next vaguely disquieting dream to unfold themselves again.