Friday, November 27, 2015

Wow! Wasn't sure this thing was still here.

Well hello,

I have decided to shovel the dust off the old blog and see if I can't find some inspiration. It's been over a year since I last posted.  Things are going quite well.  I have a good job.  Rebecca and I are getting along swimmingly, and the weather finally got cool enough, so I'm not sweating my butt off every time I breathe. Can't complain at all.

I'm going to kick off the renewal with a tale of dreams.

For the past 10 years or so, I have had this recurring nightmare that involves mostly unseen evil of a powerful nature, and more often than not wakes me up with a shout and gasping for breath.  There was a particularly dark point when I was in Korea, where I literally thought I might be going insane. I would wake up not knowing whether what happened in the dream was real or not. There was a slip in reality that frightened me quite badly.

The source of the evil in the dreams was a children's book which always reminded me of Eric Carle's, The Very Hungry Caterpillar. Most of the time, I could never get near the book because the evil emanating from it was too powerful. Over the years, I was able to touch the book about four of five times and able to open it twice. The first time I got to open the book - you have to understand that, in the dream, this was a monstrous struggle - I saw the number 2, and on the second time, there was the number 7.  I have no idea what it means other than this nightmare has been with me for a long, long time, and the struggle is difficult and terrifying every time.

Last night, the dream returned. This time was different because the details are much sharper than they have been in the past.  Whereas before, I could never quite tell where I was, this time I was very distinctly in a classroom in a fairly large school building. The book was on a lone desk in the middle of the class. I was actually able to walk right up to the book, and everything was kosher until I opened it. When I lifted the cover, a violent blast of energy threw me back across the room. I got up, and struggled forward to the book as if I was leaning into a full force gale. I pushed and pushed forward.  I finally made it to the desk.  The book was opened to the page with the 2 on it. Holding onto the desk for dear life, I was able to reach up and tear the page out of the book.  There was a great whoosh as the room expanded outward, stretching like a room in a cartoon and then snapping back into place.  The classroom had transformed into a gymnasium with folded up bleachers and twin sets of red, pad-locked, double-doors.  There was a great crash at the doors as two maniacal janitor figures tried to break into the gym.  As they snarled and pushed and stretched through the doors, things got sketchy and I woke up.

I have no idea what happened to the book or the page that I was able to tear out.  But I do know that when I woke up, I felt as if some corner has been turned in my subconscious.  I'm not sure the war is over, but a battle has been won.

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