The Turquoise Gate - a dream set down

I can't remember the last time I woke up because I was crying out in a dream. Mostly with dreams I forget. This one is clinging insistently. I decided to draw it & to write it. It's not horror exactly, but there was a sense of menace that was not easily shaken off. It was one of the few times when wished there was someone else in the house with me.

The Turquoise Gate

The gate at the top of the stairs is old.
Turquoise paint peels off the metal.
It's wet from the rain.
I fiddle with the latch & I think I have it closed.
I push to test it but it swings open.
I pull it closed & try again because I know what's coming.
The rain obscures everything in my field of vision. 
The rain bounces off the white marble steps that lead up to the house. 

The rain is a dense white veil. 

I can see nothing.

Then I can. 

The image is blurred but it is there.

A small dark form. 

It's closer than I thought because I didn't see it coming. 

And it's closer now. 

And the latch will not fasten.