From the knowing is where I begin from the details which become the vague of the dreams as they are written before me. As it was the setting is the most vivid of this being it was a church similar to the one called Willowcreek in South Barrington, Illinois. In knowing of mind as becoming in the demise of faith within illness that is without the healing. Prior of the years becoming from the sleeping thoughts and the mind where the body rests while the mind of the unsound is the still active. In silence of the thoughts as they become from the dreams as they dwell as one stands in a place between the waking hours and the sleep. In the come of knowing, of when it is in the written memories or the dreams as they are crawling within the emotions when they are being devoured. Where it comes in the sense when I entered the chapel is when one felt the haunting tension that no one was there and it was an indoor churchyard. Which in time it was almost like it was the middle of the night when the hours ticked that it was about 4 in the afternoon. Where it felt like everyone was gone and deceased or if they were asleep and dreaming as I was here. From the darkness that comes in time the tiredness is something I felt for many years even when I was once seventeen. In that youth comes the curse known as the persistence in time; from knowing it is inside the dreams where I saw myself dead to the world. That it comes in the hours that death is the unavoidable, the knowing as it is from the dreams as they were written. The mind as it wanders from the waking world. Which it is in the thoughts as they are written, knowing of when in the times that comes among the three days of darkness. That it comes in the sense when I was walking around in the vacant church as this was, that comes from the memories as they were haunting me from the times that came of February 9, 1999, that were still in the vivid memory. Of the pages that come in time when the writings come from the haunted thoughts, of the writings as they were scrawled from the haunted memory. From the thoughts as they were; the thoughts as they become in the sleep as the blood had been drained from the physical body. The whispers of the mind as they were there the words as they were in the haunting of the mind. The thoughts as they were there as I put into the words that one cannot find; the words of the written as they were among the gone. I from which would be able to find the thoughts to transcribe, or described from which comes in the pages as they were. The questions in the mind when the echoes are stirred in the desolate, from the dreams as they were haunting the chapel of the desolate. Where it seems that I was struggling for to breath that comes inside the hours that descend from the desolate. Losing the thoughts as they are taking the control of the nightmares as they become on the page as they were seen; that comes the baring witness of the congregations of the deceased. Among the dreams as they were the congregation which gathers within the hours of the Witch-House. That came of the dream that was there during the time of when the illness had put me in the hospital. The madness that comes within the nightmares that comes among the written torments the torments of the mental illness and the faith that died. Beneath the thoughts and the dreams as they dwell, yet dwindling in a troubled mind. As where I find myself in the empty chapel among the thoughts wandering as the nightmares become haunting the chapel. Where it is heard as a whisper is the sermon of the deafening silence. As one sees himself within the dream, as the hours which come as the person who is being the written of the dream is myself, and I would see myself asleep upon one of the couches that is in the lobby of the church of Willowcreek. Where it is among the fear of fears which bring upon the tormenting thoughts as they thrall inside the mind; that comes among the beings of I which known, the thoughts among the fires that I have never known. Becoming among the thoughts when they stare again at the faith dying in the angry fountain; as when they become or what they became is what the fear dwells inside. As in the dreams that the hours begin to tick where knowing that the congregation is the belonging of the dead. From the dreams of the mind which is being of the recollected transcription. Ticking from the nervousness that comes in the nervousness that comes in the seeking of the mind as the dreams drift and transcend from the shadow of the psyche within the prayers from the dying. In the knowing the thoughts as they are written being not my own. From the descending, in the empty congregational pews which became tombs of sorts as one can see where it became the churchyard. In the churchyard were the whispers of the children as one hears them pray. In the knowing from the dreams as they become from the congregation of the sick, of which comes from the blessed among the ill; being as it is among the pages of the gone. Within the empty church house where it seems like it appears as the churchyard of sorts; as vague as one can relate but it would be among the vague that stands in the dark surrealism as one draws from the details of the dreams. Words which are written in the memory as they become from the vague and pale reflection of the faith in God of the being as oneself. That faith of what one had once had was buried in the funeral; the shell of the empty. The dissolving thoughts as they become grains within a sand falling in the hourglass of the waning hours. From hours as they tick away the ticking from the dreams as they reach from the mind of knowing. Knowing within the dreams as they become the time as it is the relative factor; becoming from the setting of the question of the place that is similar to Willowcreek. Within the walls as one sees the dreams becoming among the documented pages, that comes among the shadows of the losing faith. From it is in the mind as one walks the wandering thoughts, from it would become the hours that fade. In the understanding of the underlying thoughts as they were walking as the hermit in the arcana deck, but it is among the remaining thoughts that are within the cemetery of the chapel. Where it would all appear empty from within the thoughts that are with the dead and the sleeping as the dream begins in the darkness within, transcending. Being among the prayers unspoken and unwritten among thoughts as they are seen from inside the mind. The tormenting thoughts becoming as they were from the times as they gather among the congregations of the deceased. As it crawls from the dreams as they become, the knowing, as it would become of the shadows dwelling within the chapel. Where one can hear the voices whispering all at once when the gathering of the dead become of the congregation of the unknown. Where it comes in a testimony written of nightmares that come in the tormenting of years. As they were echoes from the night of what became the start of many nights as they dwell, sleepless within the thoughts as one wound lay awake. The dreams of the shunned thoughts as they were becoming from the minds as one sees the illness within becoming the thoughts as they were of the shunned. Among the sickness that comes among the empty as one walks among the places devoid of light. Even as it was told among sermons of the places which bare the rooms of eternal darkness, where repetition is the definition of hell where hell is repetition. In which it comes of the dreams as the hours dwell within myself; that comes in the place becoming the dreams as they are in the written mind. I stand within the hours of sleep the dreams that stand in the wandering mind. While trudging around in the dark it would appear as the thing biting into the head as a vice squeezing without its end. The place when headaches begin and end, where the nightmares are the shadows of the beginning. Where it is among the thoughts as they are the written where the sleep as one drifts between the dreams and the waking as one finds himself in a place which resembles the place of Willowcreek. The hours which drift within the dreams show the absence of faith and devoid of the prayers that I once had spoken. Inside of the blowing silence as one could hear the children praying as the silence ever so deafening as it was unworldly. Among the thoughts which come of the dying mind before the transcending; wandering inside the chapel as within the devoid of light. As one could see it all gathering in the pews again before the dreams that descend further in the nocturnal illness, from it is in the mind that comes before the sleep as it is written. In the illness desolating all of the emotions as it is walking among the thoughts in the unsound mind that gathers were the questions of faith has slowly pained into ones own falling of sanity as one hears the whispers in the deafening silence. From this unearthly silence as it comes from the pains within the illness that drawn from sleep the hours that drawn from the questions of the long sleeps of the dream that a haunts a person with an illness of that never seen. Where it comes in the mind as one hears the sermons of a deafening silence in the chapel. In the place where one cannot hear them whispering prayers in the indoor cemetery, but it is in the deafening silence that haunts the senses when the dream becomes the depth if the sleep. As one would bare the witness from the deafening silence of the voices of the dead children bare their whispers, from there was nowhere to run. In the nightmares which crawl between the waking and the sleeping of the death as they become the silence that plays on the senses of the mind. The senses of the haunted dwelling among the psyche as one walks within the chapel of a place resembling the church of Willowcreek. As from it is inked from myself, in the pages that come a tormented testimony of sorts which must come in the careful recollection. Where the questions of God become the most evident of the sleep that become the dreams haunting, the complexity of the detail becomes from the vague yet the vividness; from this of the knowing as they become.
This one reminds me of the recurring nightmare that I had when I was a little girl 'til into my 20's. It has now stopped.
When I dreamed this dream everytime, I had to go to a place though narrow paths and muddy fields and forests. When I came to a grey wall, that was always a tiny hole on the top of the wall, just good enough for me to squeeze myself through, I often climbed up this wall, squeezed through this hole and went to the other side of the wall. On this side I saw many humans, only they have animal heads. They were walking around. I was so scared, so I turned around and climbed that wall again, squeezed through that hole and came back to this side of the wall, then I started my journey back - through narrow paths, muddy fields and forests. My final stage of running would be in the forest, and it seemed that someone was chasing after me, then I woke up each time.
This was certainly my recurring nightmare. It stayed with me 'til I was in my 20's, and eventually it went away.
I also had another one recurring. In this one, my mom was handing out cookies to everyone, but she had forgotten to give to me each time, and each time I cried in this dream. This recurring dream stayed with me 'til I was in my teen years.
I can never forget these two dreams.
Your writings are very deep and thought-provoking. It makes me want to do something about all my dreams and write them out. I have so many dreams, almost each time I sleep I dream. I can't really think of a time that I had slept and didn't dream a thing at all.
Great thought-provoking write, Nickolaus! Thank you for inviting me here! Please continue to inform me of anything new.
One suggestion:
Can you please use large fonts for your stories, it is hard on this old lady's eyes.
This is an incredibly haunting write, like going on a dark journey from which there is no turning back, and going forward is like falling into a dark pit of desolation. This also confirms to my mind that you are one of the most creative and original writers on the internet. Well done! Ron
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