My house is a ghost

Houses at night are lonely. Rooms suddenly become monstrous caves, ceilings shadowed and hidden. The black windows stare inward like monstrous pupils, allowing unknown creatures to observe the mysteries of abandoned lives. Its the worst feeling to walk through a room at night, feeling a tingling in your spine and knowing that if you turn you'll catch a pale face staring through the inky glass.
Even though there are people asleep in the bedrooms the place has a feeling of complete abandonment, and the tingling makes a person want to hop the last few feet and run into a protected room. These rooms must be well-lit, and not with harsh fluorescent light. This light is a magical force-field, stemming the muddy shadows that threaten safety. There are also no peeping windows, staring at you as your striped pajamas barely guard your vulnerable, lonely body.
Perhaps the soul is otherwise occupied during sleep, leaving fragile eggshells that are no better than the inanimate furniture they slumber on. And people left awake are actually all alone in the cavernous home, free to wander but cursed to solitude until joining the swirling mist of twining dreams.