[We're delighted to have contributed the following to Long Forgotten's great post about haunted wallpaper.]

Here is revealed how wallpaper can become haunted via the occult powers of trembling moon rays (and it gets better as it goes, with the introduction of ogres, serpents, demons, and conspiring pillows!): "The wall-papers in many private houses and hotels are remarkable for their hideous patterns, which, in the case of nervous individuals are sufficient to induce an attack of nightmare.  These papers are bad enough in the daytime, but at night—lighted perhaps by a trembling moonray—they assume a ghastly aspect.  Great ogres' heads, with eyes as large as saucers, and mouths which seem to open wider and wider every minute, appear to stare down upon one; serpents twist and twirl in endless arabesques, as though about to spring; while little demons perch themselves here and there round the room with hideous grins stereotyped upon their features.  No wonder that a stranger, with the indigestible Berlin cuisine lying heavily on his chest, should imagine himself encompassed by all manner of horrors, and engage in a more or less desperate struggle with the spirits of the air, in the course of which the hateful bag of feathers is certain to overbalance itself and topple to the ground, leaving him shivering in a half-sleeping, half-waking state during the remainer of the night." —Berlin under the New Empire by Henry Vizetelly, 1879, p. 123.

See our previous example of haunted wallpaper here, predating M. C. Escher by about three decades.

From the Mirror yearbook of Bates College, 1921.  (For some unbelievably weird yearbook imagery, see our How to Hoodoo Hack a Yearbook.)

"Why new houses are haunted": an illustration from an 1886 issue of London Society Illustrated magazine.

An illustration from a 1919 issue of Wide World magazine.  The caption reads: "My glance drifted to the wall above it, and, horror of horrors I saw it distinctly bulge inwards!"

Here's a precursor to the spooky wallpaper in Disneyland's Haunted Mansion, from a 1904 issue of Good Housekeeping magazine.  This illustration prefigures the work of M.C. Escher by about three decades.