August 16th, 2013
I haven’t been having as many bad nightmares as of late. None that I can remember any-way… The medication that I’m on has this side-effect of making you have some crazy dreams. The Doctor fore-warned me of this, along with some others… I’ve had many nightmares since the start of it, and I think it may be driving me mad. I don’t sleep much these days. I find it hard to do so. So much running through my mind it never seems to find any rest, especially at night. Night is the perfect opportunity for my mind to wonder aimlessly… often into the darkest of corners. It’s the time when I am alone with my thoughts, which is more time than any person with my particular outlook on life should have to themselves …
Dying is constantly on my mind. How much longer do I have left? How will the remainder of my days be spent? Who will be there with me? Will I ever really find some-one to be with… some-one to marry and have a life with? I know I’ve messed up any reasonable chances I had to be with the woman I love. And if she would be foolish enough to have me I don’t think it could ever really work after all I’ve done. I love her enough to know she deserves better than me.
I often lay awake with feelings of dread… feelings of being lost, and a hopelessness of ever being found. I feel like something horrible is coming that can-not be stopped. Like some terrible fait awaits me that has been set in stone by God himself. I feel like I am going to Hell.
One nightmare stands out from the rest. I was living in my old neighborhood in St. Petersburg Florida. I was around the age I was when I lived there which was about 17 or 18. On the corner of 1th street north and 40th Ave there is this Mobile Gas Station that sits on the north/west corner, only in my dream it was replaced by a house. The house was occupied by a family with a daughter about my age or a little younger at the time. Who she was, was very vague as to any sort of real personal identity. However, it was clear that I had a romantic interest in the girl.
Some-how or another it became clear that the girl’s parents were some sort of cultist, perverts for lack of a better term. They would sexually abuse her in a ritualistic Satanist manner, only she seemed to be in on it.
I remember the girl and her mother to be very attractive in a whorish sort of way, which to be honest has always been an attractive quality to me. They wanted me to join them in this dark ritual, this sexual demon worship or what-ever it was. I resisted at first, even made some threat to get the law involved in this matter. However, this dark temptation was too much for me in the end, and I gave in.
Nothing explicit happened next as would have happened in a fantasy. The next thing I remember was being nothing but a bloody sacrament sprayed across every inch of a small, dark, candle lit room… only chucks of my flesh remained aimlessly, yet ritualistically thrown about while the family bathed worshipfully in the bloody after-glow of their sacrifice. I viewed them from what seemed to be an out of body view that circled the room for some time before waking. I knew I was dead, I knew they had killed me, and some-how I was at peace with it. I looked upon what was left of my-self with dreamy sense of numbness, acceptance, and a dreary sense of relief.
I sense this dream may have had some sort of meaning to it. Like my dark temptations will be the death of me… Is my warped mind is simply loosing grip, or was it just some bad cheese I had eaten?