Alan Wake Wiki

As Alan Wake 2 has now launched, be wary of major spoilers of the game. It is recommended you play the game before browsing the wiki.


Alan Wake Wiki
Alan Wake Wiki

This House of Dreams was an Alan Wake themed ARG created by Remedy Entertainment in February 2012, launching alongside Alan Wake's American Nightmare. It takes the form of a blogspot site owned by a woman named "Samantha Wells" as she rebuilds an old house she bought. Throughout rebuilding it, she uncovers secret poems, photos and has strange dreams. Many aspects of the ARG would be referenced in the story of Control, a subsequent Remedy game tied heavily to Alan Wake.


To anyone in the first few months, nobody would have suspected that "This House of Dreams" had anything to do with Alan Wake. On 2 June 2012, Sam Lake tweeted the blogspot as well as "It’s all true. 'It will happen again, in another town, a town called Ordinary.' It's happening now.". Since that tweet, it's become more clear that Alan Wake is somehow involved in everything being posted.

On the Alan Wake page, in Facebook, Remedy hinted strongly about "This House of Dreams", technically making it official. Afterwards, they even linked the Blog with the statement.
They commented on it on Monday, July 30, 2012 at 11:22 am: "Even The Darkness can make mistakes - Every now and then pieces of what it's been holding find their way back - back into the light..." -
Here is a link to the "strongly hinted" message-


The following is a full transcript of This House of Dreams.

February 2012

Introduction (02/22/12) 9:14 AM

(This was posted on the day that Alan Wake's American Nightmare was released on the Xbox 360.)

I've fulfilled my lifelong dream and bought an old house. This blog will follow the process as I renovate the house into the house of my dreams. It’s going to be an exciting adventure. Welcome aboard!

Tour of the House (02/23/12) 2:53 PM

I took some photos today of the fun work ahead. As you can see, this will take a while. But I’m up for the challenge (some of my friends think I’m crazy for doing this by myself, yes, I’m talking about you, Andrea and Jen ;))! I’m already browsing through wallpaper catalogs.

Oh, and exploring the nooks and crannies of my future home has unearthed some real treasures. The previous owner left all kinds of stuff in the attic. More of that next time!

March 2012

First Night in the House (03/02/12) 9:01 AM

I spent the night in my future home for the first time. It was almost like camping indoors, I had a sleeping bag. There was a weird flapping noise that kept me awake at night. I found a dead wren in the attic earlier (there is a broken window), and I imagined that there's a bird trapped somewhere inside the walls (not a nice image to think about, sorry).

Toys in the Attic (03/05/12) 7:44 AM

As I mentioned earlier, the previous owner left all kinds of stuff in the attic. Her daughter told me that they have no use for them; I can do what I want with them!

I've always been fascinated by attics. As a child, I used to sneak up to my grandparents’ attic to explore. It always felt like a magical, mysterious place, slightly scary but not too much so, filled with forgotten treasures waiting to be discovered. I've felt the same way in the past few weeks, climbing up to my own attic.

The most wonderful discovery I've made so far is an old shoebox filled with typewritten sheets of poems and black and white photographs. Photos and scans of those soon!

Shoebox Photos (03/11/12) 5:34PM

There were two black and white photographs in the old shoebox I found from the attic. The box was among the things left behind by the previous owner. The photos depict a man getting into and out of a wetsuit, and a woman – I’m guessing his wife or girlfriend – helping him. He could be a diver? I’m not an expert, but I’d say that the photos are from the 60s or 70s. Here comes the weird part: their faces are covered with black ink stains. It must have been done on purpose as only the faces are covered. It’s a delicious mystery, the whole shoebox is. I’m thrilled! I love mysteries like this. In addition to the photos, there are poems, 12 of them! I’ll post them soon.

Shoebox Dream (03/14/12) 7:52 AM

OK, I’m freaking out just a bit here. I saw a really bizarre nightmare last night. I know this is supposed to be a blog about my new house, but the dream is related to that, and on the other hand, look at the name of the blog. This isn't what I meant when I came up with the name, but now it feels strangely appropriate, don’t you think?

In the dream, I heard the doorbell ring and went to open the door. There was a man there. He said he was a federal agent. He showed me his badge and all, just like the FBI agents do in the movies. Here comes the scary part: there was something wrong with his face; it was leaking inky smoke so that I couldn't see what he looked like. When I woke up I realized that this image totally came from the ink-covered faces in the photos, of course (see the previous post). The man asked me about the shoebox. He said that it contains top-secret information and that I need to give it to him. I got scared that he’ll put me in jail and went to get the shoebox, but I couldn't find it anywhere. I searched the whole house but it was nowhere. Then I went to the bathroom to look for it, and saw myself in the mirror: my face was covered with inky smoke as well! And that’s when I woke up. When I think back about the dream, it didn't say “FBI” on his badge; it said “AWE”.

This is the weirdest thing of all: Now I can’t find the shoebox anywhere. I have looked everywhere I can think of. I’m sure that it will turn up somewhere, there is so much junk lying around in the house at the moment, but kind of creepy in any case. I didn't get around to scanning the poems yet, but I did take photos of them, luckily.

Under the House (03/25/12) 6:36 PM

A couple of guys came to do some plumbing work on Friday. They had to get under the house to do that, and I discovered that there was a trapdoor that led to the crawl space underneath. It had been screwed shut, and had to be opened. After they were done, I decided to go down there to explore. Armed with a flashlight and my iPhone for shots, I squeezed myself through the trapdoor. It was cramped and claustrophobic (I’m amazed that the workmen were able to do any work there, I’m tiny compared to them). I was mentally prepared for rats and dead cats or even something worse, but there was nothing out of the ordinary down there. Nothing out of the ordinary in the town of Ordinary (pun intended).

Shoebox Poems (03/25/12) 6:49 PM

I've been really busy and stressed at work lately, but in spite of that the shoebox and its contents are never far from my thoughts. You might say that I’m getting a bit obsessed about them. I've been trying to find out who the poet is, or the couple in the photos, but no luck. I asked the daughter of the previous owner about it (her mother is in a nursing home and suffers from advanced Alzheimer’s disease, so she wouldn't be able to help me). She was certain that no one in her family was a poet, and she doubted that the people in the photos were anyone from her family. She told me that her mom liked to buy stuff from yard sales, and her guess was that the shoebox was something her mom had picked up from one of those.

I’ve tried to find the shoebox after it went missing, but I can’t find it. I’m so glad I took photos of the poems before I lost them.

April 2012

Poem 1 (04/09/12) 4:07 PM

As the photos are a bit blurry, I’ll transcribe the poems:

We pillage and whore
Hauling our loot
We swagger down alleys
We don’t say please
The town is burning
We set it in flame
We are the fire
That’s gone out in your eyes

We are the maggots gnawing your heels
We are the rain trickling down
From the hole in your ceiling
We are the ants inside your walls
And under the boards of your floor
We are eating your house
We are the sharp rocks under your knees
In front of the altar
Where you are kneeling

We have no morals
No guilt, no qualms
We don’t give a damn
The sewers are clogged
Filled with waste
The water is rising

We’ll make a ship out of
Your naïve, broken dreams
And lay siege to your sanctuaries
We are a ravenous horde of rats
We are the fangs and we are the beast

There will be no more admiring gazes
No more courtesies
No more gardens in spring
We are the rising waste
And you will be a drowned king

NOTE: The first stanza has been crossed out, and the sheet had been torn up.

Poem 2 (04/09/12) 4:08 PM

As the photos are a bit blurry, I’ll transcribe the poems:

Divorce me from all that’s sane
Screaming, mute darkness
Descend on this frail frame
I drown in fathomless black space
Light never scratched
The depths of this domain
I see not; yet nothing could be worse
Than the shades
My mind calls herein
Alone at my own wake
The unraveling of reason’s skein

NOTE: It says “THE DARK PLACE” below the poem, and there’s a line from William Blake’s Auguries of Innocence “Some are born to endless night.”

Poem 3 (04/09/12) 4:09PM

As the photos are a bit blurry, I’ll transcribe the poems:

I go underground
Follow me underground
Everyone else has gone there
Down to the ground
I’ll take you underground

They chased a mystery
They are a mystery to me
And you’ll think that of me
When I tell you my tale

What we bring with us
Sorry secrets and awkward lies
Wet matches
A yarning for overcast skies
Everything else down here
Has been stolen so many times
Everyone who walks down these steps dies

I go underground
Follow me underground
Everyone else has gone there
Down to the ground
I’ll take you underground

Poem 4 (04/09/12) 4:10PM

As the photos are a bit blurry, I’ll transcribe the poems:

Of the shadows of the deep
He challenged me
To a duel
I indulged him

For he did not know
That beyond the lake
He called home
Lies a deeper darker
Ocean green
Where waves are
Both wilder
And more serene
To its ports I have been
To its ports I have been

NOTE: “rewrite?” has been written next to the first stanza.

Poem 5 (04/09/12) 4:11PM

As the photos are a bit blurry, I’ll transcribe the poems:

My mother told me to no avail
If you play with shadows
You grow sickly and pale
And forget all the wonders
The sun can unveil
Beyond the shadow you settle for
there is a miracle

NOTE: the three last lines have been underlined and there a note saying “E’s favorite line, a long talk with him about the meaning, no changes but keep in mind for another time.”

Poem 6 (04/09/12) 4:12PM

As the photos are a bit blurry, I’ll transcribe the poems:

Your eyes were so cold
When you watched me go under
You were sitting in the boat
I floated down
To the darkness like a cloud
From a shark bite

I breathe out
My life with you
The currents wash me away
I let the currents
Wash me away

Poem 7 (04/09/12) 4:13PM

As the photos are a bit blurry, I’ll transcribe the poems:

Mist like death
Mist like a lover’s breath
Rolls so soft and cold and wet
Memories met for the first time
Secrets whispered
To find a long lost doorway home
Or be led to parts unknown
And forever disappear beyond this veil
In her dreams to prevail

Poem 8 (04/09/12) 4:16PM

As the photos are a bit blurry, I’ll transcribe the poems:

I wish it would shatter
Like glass under my heels
Just like a sheet of ice
When I close my eyes
That’s how the mirror feels

Oh mercy
Thousands have gone missing
Beyond the labyrinth of me
When you’re lost
You’re lost in your own company

NOTE: There’s another poem on the page as well: “In this hall of mirrors / built by liars / I’m a pale reflection of myself – Pool.” There are also a couple of drawings, a face of a man, some fir trees by the water (maybe?), and a strange face with a long nose and round black eyes.

Poem 9 (04/09/12) 4:17PM

As the photos are a bit blurry, I’ll transcribe the poems:

Until that time comes around again
The shadow falls on this town again
It’s barely evening
But the shadow falls on me again

No one will miss us
Our faces inked black
They’ll sell our things at the flea market
They’ll never call us back

So she left with them
They’ll wine her and dine her
We huddle naked in this alley
Nothing’s for sure

Fir needles tickle
We bathe in rain water
All the way to the ocean
The memory of the slaughter

Until that time comes around again
The shadow falls on this town again
It’s barely evening
But the shadow falls on me again

When I’m awake I’m barely alive
When I sleep I have two hearts
Your heart and mine
Your two hearts and mine

Poem 10 (04/09/12) 4:18PM

As the photos are a bit blurry, I’ll transcribe the poems:

From bloom to gloom
Our love like fire
We burned our bridges
Furniture, clothes
Hair, flesh and bones
All too soon
We ran out of things
To burn
But while it blossomed
Our love
Was like a flower

NOTE: Also written on the page: “B. This is us. T.” and a name “Barbara” (I’m guessing, can’t quite make it out, different handwriting) next to a heart.

Poem 11 (04/09/12) 4:19PM

As the photos are a bit blurry, I’ll transcribe the poems:

In this temple of shadow and mist
There's a window
In the floor and
A door in the ceiling
There is no knowing
Am I standing still
Or running or kneeling

NOTE: the two last lines have been scratched out (can’t make out what it originally said) and the lines of the poem have been written next to them.

Poem 12 (04/09/12) 4:20PM

As the photos are a bit blurry, I’ll transcribe the poems:

Kept from sleep again last night
By the sound of chimes
I sway
So far below heaven
So high above hell
Frost creeps up
The trunk of my spine
All is blackness through these holes
Of my eyes
Just the wind in my skull
And the wings of her crows
They perch on the gallows
They have pecked me clean
And made a chime from
My bones

NOTE: Also written on the page: “B’s comment: a diver, not a hanged man, think about it!!!”

May 2012

Shoebox Dream 2 (05/30/12) 6:03PM

I had another dream last night, and when I woke up, a real scare.

In the dream I was visiting the previous owner of my house at the nursing home, only in the dream the owner wasn’t a sweet old lady, he was a man, and he wasn’t old, he was a young man with a dark hair – very good looking in fact. I remember that he was wearing a funny jacket with old-fashioned elbow patches. I was there to find out about the shoebox, but he was very agitated and didn’t listen to me. The place was brightly lit, it was sunny outside, but he was still very anxious and wanted me to turn all the lights on. He kept going on about the place being too dark. I remember being certain that all the lights were on already, but that didn’t calm him down. In the end he was screaming for me to turn the lights on. I was also starting to freak out, starting to think that something horrible was coming to take us away, and that’s when I woke up. I was really thirsty, I got up from bed and went to get a glass of water. In the hallway, coming back, I suddenly saw a dark silhouette of a man outside the window. I must have screamed aloud. My heart stopped for a moment. I dropped the glass (luckily it didn’t break, it’s one of my favorites). I was really frightened. I rushed through the house, turning on all the lights. My first impulse was to dial 911, but after a moment that felt silly. I told myself that I must have imagined the whole thing, seen my own reflection in the window. Of course, with all the lights on inside, I couldn’t see anything outside anymore. I ended up calling a friend of mine, Joss, who lives nearby, waking him up. He was kind enough to come over and check the place. Bless him. Joss’s a real angel. There was no sign of anyone outside.

Today I’m definitely going buy some yard lights, I’ve been meaning to do that for some time already.

June 2012

No Light, No Light (06/04/12) 11:37PM

I’ve been very busy at work and too exhausted to post here for a while (apart for the nightmare the other night, which I had to get off my chest immediately, and it still gives me the creeps). On a more positive note, the house is slowly starting to look really good and I’ve been living here for a while (here’s a photo of my fireplace).

I got the yard lights, now I only need to get them installed.

To be honest, I’m playing for time here, writing this, not looking forward to going to bed. I was listening to the beautiful & brilliant Florence + the Machine earlier and the song “No Light, No Light” made me think about the nightmare again.

[Untitled] (06/05/12) 12:50AM

Called 911. Men outside shadows darkcominghelpmoreligh

Haunted House? (06/13/12) 6:23PM

I’m back and I’m okay. Well, not okay, but alive. They kept me in the hospital overnight for observation. And then I spent a couple days at my parents’ house.

On the night of my previous post (sorry if it frightened anyone) I had trouble going to bed, I was on my laptop, listening to music. The TV was on in the living room, I wasn’t really watching it, but I was mildly amused by the fact that the episode in the crappy horror show that was on was about a girl who buys a haunted house and gets into trouble. It was a rerun of the Twilight Zone or something. It got ridiculous when the corny narrator started saying things like: “She thought she had bought an ordinary house in an ordinary town, but nothing could be more out of the ordinary than this house…”. I actually laughed out aloud and walked to the living room to see. It was like someone was playing a practical joke on me. But then I immediately saw the men outside my window, dark shadowy silhouettes, and the power went out and it was dark and I could hear a window breaking in another room. I ran back to the kitchen where my laptop was, I grabbed it, rushed into the closet, shutting the door behind me. I sat on the floor and dialed 911. I could hear sounds of them breaking in, and insane shouts and laughter. I’ve never been so scared in my life. I could hear them getting closer. I stopped talking to the phone so they wouldn’t hear me. I wrote the blog post, I don’t know what I was thinking. Then they were behind the door, and I got up, trying to keep it closed. It flew open violently and I fell and hit my head. The last thing I saw in the glow of the laptop was the shoebox. It was sitting on the shelf. There was no way I could not have seen it before if it had been there since it went missing. Then all went black. I woke up in the hospital with a mild concussion. The police said that there were no signs of disturbance or break-in, other than what they themselves caused when they came in to check and found me. I don’t know what to think. I’ve been very stressed at work, but I'm not going crazy and I didn't just imagine it all. It really happened.

One thing is certain: this is my house, and I won’t be frightened away by ghosts or shadows. This is my house and I will fight for it if that’s what it takes. So there.

I just checked. The shoebox is there on the shelf in the closet. There is stuff inside that wasn’t there before.

July 2012

Houseguests (07/22/12) 9:45AM

Soon after my last update, someone contacted me. They had found me through this blog. They said that they know a lot about what’s been going on, about the origin of the shoebox’s contents, and that this kind of a thing had happened before, elsewhere. They promised to tell me more, on the condition that I’d stop updating the blog. They said that this whole thing should be kept secret and hinted that it could be dangerous, that there are people out there who think that the contents of the shoebox can be very valuable and would be willing to commit crimes to get hold of them. In a way it felt a lot like my nightmare about the agent who came asking about the shoebox. Of course this was totally different in many ways, but still, it reminded me of that, like the dream had come true somehow.

I promised to think about what they’d told me. And I have. And that’s the reason why there have been no updates for a while. They were friendly enough, but the more I’ve thought about it, the more the whole thing felt like a threat. And that really pisses me off. It’s a free country, and I can write about anything I want in my own blog. And the shoebox and everything in it came with the house, and thus it’s mine.

I’ve decided to keep updating the blog for now.

Inside the Shoebox (07/22/12) 9:52AM

When I found the shoebox again, there were more poems inside, and a battered, old device: a switch of some kind. I actually had to go and ask about it in the local hardware store to be sure what it was. It’s an old light switch. When you flick it, there’s a solid, satisfying click. When I flicked it the first time after finding it, all the lights in the house went out. I swear I’m not making this up. It turned out to be the whole neighborhood actually, and the real reason for the power out turned out to be the thunderstorm rumbling above. But talk about a coincidence of a lifetime! I’ve flicked the switch many times after that and nothing strange has happened.

I can't explain where this new stuff came from. Someone broke into my house and put it there? That makes no sense.

More Shoebox Poems (07/23/12) 5:57AM

There were six new poems in the shoebox, as well as something else, not a poem, a title page, I suppose, it seems to come from a different batch. All the pages seem old, as if they've gotten wet at some point. In any case, here are the photos.

I'll transcribe the poems in an update soon, just in case the photos are not clear enough.

Poem 13 (07/26/12) 5:10PM

I came looking for my princess
Instead I found a witch wearing her face
No one in the family
Had noticed the change
She said:
“She becomes me.”

Through all the wicked things she did
To me, her beauty kept me in a daze
I stared at her adoringly and forgot how she used to be
As she tortured me for days and days
She said:
”She becomes me.”

Isn’t it strange that with every wound
She’s caused her beauty in the mirror fades
I hear she’s already looking for another pretty girl
To put on in the old one’s place
She said:
“She becomes me.”

We’re both so thin
We wear our skeletons on the outside
She becomes me

NOTE: written below the poem: "B offended, thought this was about her, of course it's not".

Poem 14 (07/26/12) 5:14PM

Tightrope walking
Would you choose
A safety net
That traps you
And kills the thrill
Thin weave of wires
Slices your flesh
I must prefer
The dark air in-between
Soft shadows
Hug you gently
All the way to the ground

NOTE: written below the poem is a quote: "Which are you drinking? The water or the wave?" and the name of the author: "John Fowles".

Poem 15 (07/26/12) 5:15PM

More than anything
His dearest wish
He wanted to go from there
To leave
But he could not change his heritage
The blood in his veins was ink
And the crown was too tall
To pass through the door
He was doomed to remain
A king forevermore

Poem 16 (07/26/12) 5:24PM

Inside this shoebox we killed for
There is
We don’t know what
Neat stacks of hundred dollar bills
Jewels like stars
The dreams of those who’ve slept in this town
The dream of this town (when we open it, the dreamer will wake, and we, all part of his dream, will be gone)
Our wishes come true
The power to punch a hole into the universe

Inside this shoebox we killed for
There is
A coffee thermos
A flashlight
A box of ammo
Two pages of poems
Countless wor(l)ds

Inside this shoebox we killed for
There is
No cat, poisoned or otherwise, dead or living, undead, un-cat
Baleful spirits
All the evils of the world
No hope


NOTE: lines "A coffee thermos / A flashlight / A box of ammo / Two pages of poems, all crossed out. Written below the poem: "E can't see it. He's view is too narrow, limited. It's not a lake, it's an ocean, darkness before the act of creation, before the Big Bang, darkness upon the face of the deep, upon the face of the waters, before light, before the primeval atom, before the word, before THE POEM. I can be a creator, the creator. It has happened before, and it will happen again, many times."

Poem 17 (07/26/12) 5:25PM

I was surprised to find
That such revulsion could shine
In someone’s eyes. “How I hate your kind,”
He said, as we sat down to dine
On him"

Poem 18 (07/26/12) 5:30PM

A good friend passed away today
Quite unexpectedly
A bit of a bad luck there
But these things happen
It was nobody’s fault really
He was taken by
A dark presence
We keep his things in a shoebox
On our mantelpiece

NOTE: "dark presence" has been underlined. Written next to the poem: "E didn't find this funny".

The Title Page (07/26/12) 5:37PM

"RETURN by ?

Note: as said, this is not a poem, more like a title page for something. The name of the author has been thoroughly and violently scratched out. Written above the title: "Campbell's MONOMYTH! I) Departure II) Initiation! III) Return".

Diving Deep (07/29/12) 10:54AM

I had another strange dream. Very different from the previous ones, this was not a nightmare, quite the contrary. The diver from the photos appeared to me. He looked nothing like in the photos, but it was the same man. He was the poet who had written the poems as well. In the dream he floated in the air above me in the bedroom as if we were underwater. He was wearing a strange, heavy diving suit, almost like a spacesuit, and he was shining with a bright light. He told me things that in the dream made perfect sense, but now not so much. I’ve made a habit of keeping a notebook and a pen by my nightstand, so that I can write down my dreams as soon as I wake up, but even then, I feel that I missed or misunderstood a lot of what he told me, already beginning to forget it while I was writing it down. Also, when I read through my own notes now, some of them make no sense. But afterward – and still now – I feel shaken by the powerful emotion I felt in the dream. I’ll try to explain the dream as well as I can.

The diver told me that a dark presence had taken over his girlfriend (the woman in the photos). He’d tried everything he could think of to banish it from her, but everything had failed. In the end, he finally understood what he had to do, finally understood the true nature of the dark place that was hidden under the waves of the lake where they lived. The lake was an opening to dark place that was much bigger than the lake itself, in fact, much bigger than the whole universe we live in. He wrote one last poem, his masterpiece, a secret poem, a hidden poem, a poem that’s not among the poems I’ve found in the shoebox. And he took his girlfriend for one last dive. Together they sank down into the depths, far deeper than he had ever dived before. In the dream, I was there, diving with them. And from the depths, something, or some things, surged up to meet them. Things of darkness, but bright things of light as well. The diver explained that these things, or these presences, were forever fighting a war between the forces of light and darkness. A dark presence had taken over his girlfriend, and a bright presence now came to take over him. And he surrendered his body to it, but at the same time, the essence of who he was kept diving deeper, ever deeper, holding the essence of his girlfriend (their spirits? their souls?). The diver (or what was left of him, his true self) spoke the words of his secret poem. The poem described a new world, an island in this sea of darkness, a safe haven, a paradise, a “baby” universe. The nature of the dark place was such that anything dreamed up there, any dream or a work of art, would come true, just as true as anything in our world can be. And the poem came true and the essence of the diver and the essence of his girlfriend escaped from the darkness and disappeared into this new world to live there happily ever after; while their shapes, his now taken over by a bright presence, as his girlfriend’s had been taken over by a dark presence, surged up, through the opening in the lake to our world, to continue their battle there.

When I woke up I felt overwhelmingly happy and privileged of having been shown this. I’ve never been so moved by a dream and didn’t think it could even be possible. Even now, even though I’ve forgotten many details, the feeling remains: a feeling of hope. I know that something amazing is coming, that something wonderful is going to happen, and at the same time I know that when it does, it will be something totally different from what I’m expecting, something I could never have imagined. And I know it might take a long time before it does happen, but no matter how long it takes, I’ll be here, waiting.


  • The blog posts started on the same day Alan Wake's American Nightmare first released.
  • These events are referenced in Control. in the Oldest House an office board can be found, where it is written that the FBC obtained the box and all or almost all it's contents from the House of Dreams. here it is revealed that Samantha's last name is Wells. at the moment, for what the office board says, the box is missing. if the switch was in it or if it remains in Samantha's possession, it is unknown.
  • In the new hit-single made and produced by Barry and the Old Gods of Asgard, "Balance Slays the Demon", there are three parts in the song that connect to 3 of the poems Samantha found in the shoebox.

1. This one comes from Poem 5. In the beginning of the song, in the first chorus:

"Beyond the shadow you settle for

there is a miracle


2. This one is in the middle of the song and it comes from Poem 4:

"Beyond the lake

He called home

Lies a deeper darker

Ocean green"

3. And this one is in the beginning of the last chorus, in the song, that comes from Poem 2:

"Screaming, mute darkness

Descend on this frail frame

I drown in fathomless black space"

"Light never scratched

The depth of this Domain"

"I see not; yet nothing could be worse

Than the shades

My mind calls herein"

"Alone at my own wake

The unraveling of reason's skein".

  • The title of the blog is a pun of the book called "House of Leaves" to which Sam Lake took inspiration from when creating Alan Wake.
  • Sam Lake is believed to be the one behind-the-scenes of the blog, which seemed to be confirmed true after a picture was found of him in front of the fireplace in the "No Light, No Light" photograph.

Blog Images

Below are all the images found throughout the blog including which post they are from.

Click images to enlarge.

Blog Name Date Images
Introduction February 22nd, 2012 THOD1
Tour of the House February 23rd, 2012 THOD2THOD3THOD4
Toys in the Attic March 5th, 2012 THOD5THOD6THOD7THOD8THOD9THOD10THOD11THOD12
Shoebox Photos March 11th, 2012 THOD13THOD14
Under the House March 25th, 2012 THOD15THOD16THOD17
Shoebox Poems March 25th, 2012 THOD18THOD19THOD20THOD21THOD22THOD23THOD24THOD25THOD26THOD27THOD28THOD29
No Light, No Light June 4th, 2012 THOD30
Inside the Shoebox July 22nd, 2012 THOD31
More Shoebox Poems July 23rd, 2012 THOD32THOD33THOD34THOD35THOD36THOD37THOD38