the narrative of a nightmare that started in reoccurence during the time when I was in the hospital. It is a sequel to "Library of Bones," and in the tradition of both H.P. Lovecraft and Ray Bradbury, this would be one that would haunt the psyche. Horror within the mind as it haunts in the semi-autobiographical sense where the main character sees two versions of oneself. The photo with this one is taken by Kimberly Pacione, my cousin-in-law.
The being which I had no idea of when I was dreaming but knew that I was asleep, it would come from this where I shall begin. The detail among them would grow among the patterns of the vague as they were there -- in the dream which the setting was the mental health wing of the Mercy Medical Center. The description as they dwell in the mind about the dream was that there were two people looking into the room -- they both looked like me at different stages of when I was alive. The first one appear as I was when I was 14 years of age, wearing a boy scout uniform shirt and black jeans -- the second appeared as when I was 18 years old carrying a Holy Bible. Both appeared dumbfounded when they were looking into the window that was on the door -- have who were they looking at something that became a piece of the puzzle. Of the places which were there - in the dream that was evident, the room which was there was similar to the room that I had when I was up in the place called Five East, and the person they were looking at was me in the present as of the time of May of 1999. Among the thing so haunting of the details being in the dream was the exact detail that was evident in the thought where everyone in the hospital wing appeared like they were members of the Latter Day Saints. In the details which bring among the places of the cold, the dream as the numbing details. Where all the nurses in the room appeared as they were from a time that was long past, and the way they were doing the treatments for the mentally ill were like that during a time where they had the treatment center arranged like a torture chamber. In a place like what was there in the Iowa hospital -- one would have only one thing keeping them company, and that would be their dark and tormented thoughts. As to become the thoughts that would be there while one person walked around half naked, tossing around the hospital pajamas that they were issued -- then mumbling about something of growing up on the north end of Mason City, Iowa. Being it would be from the perspective of the person who is writing this -- where I describe the two versions of myself looking on with the look of being dumbfounded; where they had no idea of what was going on around them. Being among the thoughts as they remained would be of the sermons that were force fed into the psyche as the dream descends into one point further -- into an abyss which is the darker side of the mind. Where the physical body is in a place that is somewhere cold -- among the places of the cold which describe the detail as one sees the dream festering inside, while one wanders outside of their body as it sleeps. It is where I see the two versions of myself the question would stand there as I have the dumbfounded look on the face, "who are you?" I would ask them. "We are you?" they responded. "I was you when you were in boy scouts," the fourteen year old responded. "I was you when you were still a born again Christian," responded the eighteen year old responded. "Holy fuck, this cannot be -- I have to be dreaming," I responded, "Why did you come to me -- wait, what I am doing talking to myself?" "We are the parts of the personality that were once you, and when you had the nervous breakdown -- you are what we became," they responded one at a time. "We were wondering how did we become you, or how did someone like us became someone like you?" "Fucking weird," I responded, "the term standing beside themselves would be taking to a literate term here." The very thought of that of what would leave someone going what the hell is going on -- or the matter of it would be the state of a dark hallucination as from what described of the meds that were given to me at the time. The dream echo pages of a horror tale or a urban legend that would be related around a fire while one was with the boy scout outings -- but of what comes in the mind about this, the mental pictures as they were coming to form of their own. Of to where I describe from the dream of the place of the cold, it was from there which draws from the dream as the fourteen year old version saw - he described that what he saw of the dream was a black figure. The being researched dark folklore and wrote from them, the library that was there of them would be bookcases which were made of human bone. Drawn from the places of the cold which were there from the times before - almost a hundred years earlier from the dreams. "I had the dreams about the dark which were of the abomination dwelling in the mind," described the Christian version, "Where I question of where the dreams were among the horrors that I was not supposed to know. Of the why they were there was something that came to mind -- or of the places which were there stood in the surface of the horrors below." "What I remember of the dreams were this -- I would see the details of something that I was not supposed to see, but it was the echoing thought that became of me," he continued, "I had no idea of what happened from that but the dream said something that would foreshadow what would become years to come." The echo of what was in the hospital which I was staying in was nothing they were able to be prepared for - nor the details that would be there, and knowing what was there in the hospital that echoed the times when they used torture chambers. The wing appeared as it was from another time, as it was from a period of time when the widow of 16th president had gone mad. From the details of her madness which would be drawn in the foreshadowing among the place as the library of bones within the places of the cold. Nor that would be in a place like the mental health wing that one could be able to speak of these kind of dreams in the open. They would go about the rooms - peering through the doors to see if the patients were sleeping. That when they had the curfew for patients to be in bed by a certain time. As from when I passed out in the hospital that night on 06 May 1999, the dream that I had then was what echoed from the details of the dream as I pen of them now -- from the details of seeing myself at the age of 14 and then at the age of 18. From where I begin was from the description of the dream as surreal as it was to describe, one could not find the words to even begin how. The thought of it being - as from the whereabouts being of where would it become from the dream, or from the dream which it begins within a cycle that plays deeper in the psyche. The thoughts as where the dream would create the echo of all which remains while the others around me are sleeping awake. As from the dream which stirs in the cycle of the present time - while asleep under the open sky which is where the surrealism of the dream becomes in the description as I would write of it. From reasons of telling, that draws from them being in the details of the places of the cold and the library of bones. Being from the places which draw from the hours of forever, as the dream in the cycle as they drawn from the duration as of when they last. Slowly as one sees the dream crawling around them - while in the sleep and the cocoon's hood pulled around them. The sleep dwelling inside as the dream becomes the theater which shows the circles of when in time when I was in the hospital for the breakdown. As from where the sleep stirs into the dream, in the details as they are written and recorded for the present memory of them. From the four years that had passed to the day -- it is from the dreams I relate of them, as from when the Boy Scout and the Christian sees the misanthrope laying on the bed before them. From where they could barely describe from their dreams as they reoccurred into something that became of them - where they became who I am. Deeper from the circle as they gather within the dream as I fallen into a hard sleep. As from while one descends further into the sleep, the memory of the frame of mind remains of the place known as Five East being the backdrop for the cycle of one's dreams. That becomes of when it is seen among the being, the one which the 14 year old Boy Scout and the 18 year old born again Christian began to see -- yet they were not able to put the description into words. Where all that had became from the thoughts as they expire over time -- it is from the dreams which are among the evident thoughts as they remain, the dreams are a mix from the ghost stories shared and the sermons that are heard over the period. In a period of years as they would remain, after the fire and brimstone was imprinted into the dreams as they became over time -- from when the details drawn from the inferno. From the questions which lead into a puzzle that takes one into the places of the cold - drawn from the surfaces of when the dreams in time drawn from the sleep, induced from medicines that bring about the surreal thoughts. As they would bring them around the shadow, in the mind as they were there over the period of time when I would sleep in places that one would not be able the describe from the dreams. The description of the dream version of Five East was something that I would see as the torture chamber during the period of time when they would have the Salem witch trials -- where they treated the mentally ill as they were witches. Of the frightening calm that would be there, of the time when the dream would draw itself out while one brings about their sleep. In the times that draw from them - the years of the sermons. Being the echoing backdrop as they were in the sleep, as from the hard sleep would draw into the dream that drawn from the years in the hospital and behind the pews. In a place like Mercy Medical, the dream as it draws from the memory of the nervous breakdown what would be there -- the descending further into the downward spiral. Where the spiral descends from the details of the dream that would be of the vague, in the memory that draws from it. It would be among the places like Iowa being in the setting which it draws from the vague details. As from the place of the dream which I describe -- putting the details onto a page as they are recorded among the senses of when they began. From them create the nightmares echoing the folklore of our time. In which it comes in the pages as I record of them etching a shadow of the memory as the writing during the time of ancient Egypt being where the dreams - where they would remain in the mind of a cocooned body, drawn from them become the places of the cold. From the descent of the cold which brings from the dreams as they echo from the nightmares within the hospital. The telling of what stands among the dreams as one walks around in the mental health wing -- where the wing in the dream had the markings from the times of ancient Egypt. In the places as which one wanders into the corners of their own mind, that in the places within the river Styx becoming as they were. As from the perspective from the eyes of the Christian -- the one which echoes the years behind the pews, that the nightmares should not even be conceived but in the pages where they are in this narration. Inside among where they are; in where the nightmares dwell in the duration of one's sleep cycle. Where one proceeds to dream about somewhere cold as being the place where the Library of Bones remained in the eyes among shadows. That in the sense of the dreaming eyes looking into closed eyelids being where the sleep echoes the patterns of after death. The cycle began as I had no idea of when I was dreaming -- or when I've gone under. That where descending into the places of the cold which remain among the library of bones; after the beginning of the cycle of the one dream echoes the end of the other. Becoming from the details as they were - echoing the nightmares which they dwelled in the cocooned body and wandering mind. In the hours which one lays sleeping, the dream would remain in the patterns and the setting of the hospital -- the time of when I was signed in for the nervous breakdown would be the thing in mind here. Of where one would not be able to tell if they were dreaming because the markings on the wall in the hospital were that similar of ancient Egypt. Where it would bring about the shadows of the end, as where the nightmares within the shadowed mind -- of the places dwelling in the cold. Deeper inside as they would remain -- as I walked into the next room it would be that of the chapel resembling the one in Wheaton College. One place among the chapel that was present -- the half-decayed raven was perched upon the cross. "Darkness hath no fellowship with light, it says in the book -- for it is written," said the Christian version of myself. "Why am I here?" I asked, "what brought me to this area, I have not walked into a church for almost five years." "There is a reason," the Christian said, "I am not the one who would give the reason, but you are here for that reason." It was where I was standing which the skeletal bird stood -- I was looking at this figure in absolute horror, the dreams which echo the questioned belief and echoed the darker reality around them. Where I had no idea of the thought which was there or the dream as they were playing out, the sleep as it is there in the mind while the physical body is in a hard sleep. During the hard sleep is where the dream descends in the places of the cold, as they see the around the library of bones -- descending into the dream where one sleeps and they are trapped in places of time. As from the dream which brings them into the hallway where I walked back into the mental health wing, the place known as Five East. As of the descending into the places which I cannot describe -- somewhere within the depth of the psyche as they would be among the circle of the reality principle. Knowing of the places in the nightmares stand among the unknown as I describe the places of the cold as they remain in library of bones. As to the places which are among the surreal and the bizarre to find how they are; being in the nature of the dream as it dwells among the fields of sands in time. That of the places as where the hours of sleep begin to subside, and where they are would be inside the cycle of the dreams. Of where they were -- or where they dwell or fester, that it would remain of the surfacing patterns as the body falls into the hard sleep. As from the hard sleep that begins the rapid eye movements, where the dreams descend into the places of the abyss. Within the places of where one describes from the dreams, they echo of the mental health wing but painting a darker picture of the place -- which it is in the places where the sky turns the color of a pale-grayish green as it would appear of a tornado is touching down. Becoming as the hours fade into the dreams, of when I descended into a hard sleep. Being of where one cannot begin to see where the horror resides, or in the hours as they see the sickness dwelling; festering into the places which cannot be seen. In the mind where they fester -- the dream as they become among the manifest. As it would be from my tortured eyes! -- looking of the skeletal raven staring down upon the patients of five east. Inside and festering, the places of the individuals who gave sermons which describe their nightmares dwelling among the fear of the dark… that they would not be able tell of when they were dreaming. Which is in their dreams that gather in the places of the cold -- within the library of bones. Among the places which they describe, as they would find themselves saying this -- "darkness hath no fellowship with light" to themselves when their nightmares become evident before them. Where of myself in the years when I was devote of faith would know these dreams all too well, the details of them would be of the shadows standing within the places of the cold. The horrors that become and were from the nightmares that they were always there, standing there all along -- as from when they know, the times of the sleep when one descends. In the time when one stayed in the hospital, and the hours of when the dreams had started -- from the places which bring about the darkness along the empty oceans of sand. Becoming from the echoes in the telling of the mind -- while one hears the sermons spoken from the empty sands of time, where the dreams within their mind descend from the patterns of their eyes move under the eyelids. Of the places which I describe of them; from the grotesque details as one revisits the Library of Bones. Becoming as from the places I had descended into while the nurses around the wing of the mental health unit were asleep and dreaming, and within their slumber -- one describes the skeletal raven staring at them. The being of places where they find themselves trapped in their nightmares while they see the markings along the hallways of the wing represent or resemble the times of Ancient Egypt. That where they have no idea that they are within a shared nightmare, but as it is in their slumber -- one describes from the eyes as one sees themselves at the age of 14 and 18. In the eyes which stands among the haunted notions that remain. In the eyes of the one which sees their own dream played out in their mind; the theater being in the darkness that gathers among them. Where the sleep of the body remains as the mind becomes dream-infested; the body might appear dead to the touch while it leads into the hard slumber. As from the thoughts as they wander inside -- as a nomad across the desert. In the shadow of the dreams which remain and festers in the memory of the slumber. Among the shadow out of time which it wanders in the dreaming stages of the hard sleeping body -- as I would see myself sleeping. In the cocoon that was in a place of a dark serenity. That it when I woke, my body felt quite drained as it was drained by a vampire being the best way I'd be able to describe it -- or even begin to describe the details of the narrative. The dream that follows from the time when I was in the hospital, the wing which they kept patients with the psychiatric disorders. Of the time when I was there for three days, is when the dream started back in May of 1999.
Man...surreal is the only word that comes to mind. The idea of visualizing different versions of one's self..and holding coherent conversations with said versions....mind bending. Dreams are the untested realms we all travel through...always a good source for material.
Love that story-frame photo as well... good stuff, man.
Grab those side-irons, saddle up and join former Civil War sharpshooter Luther Henry for a ride into pure terror, western-style…think ‘Wild Wild West’ meets ‘The X-Files’.
Happy Halloween. A volume of Horrible Haunts & Twisted Tales taken from the horror books La Belle Rouge has written every October for a decade and a half. If you have read her works in the horror genre, you know the invitation is for you to enjoy thr
