Voice behind the writings

Sept 23, 1999

The thoughts which kept me awake half the night was a dream that I had during the time that I spent in the hospital last friday. Some of the details that I recall of the dream were somewhat vague, but as I sat up half the night last night; some of the things I were thinking about were quite frightening to relate. The setting for the dream was somewhere in the Twin Cities, and I was walking around in a rough part of the city -- coming from Chicago, one is already fimilar with places like Lower Wacker Drive. As I go further into description about the dream, one would say that I don't spend enough time reading the Bible.

That as I walked around, I saw like in Chicago a person standing on a soapbox; preaching like there was no tomorrow. But this preacher had no skin that covered him -- one that appeared with just muscle tissue. Then as I am writing, the details of the dream may have been a result of taking a bad mixture of medications. This might be the case but the details in the dream were so horrid, I had the same dream for many nights; one from Intervasity would say that something as this should not be written. Though I heard this on many occasions while I had been taking some college classes. Though as I continue to describe the details of the dream, the time that the dream took place was February 9th; frightening enough the same the day that I found myself laying in a pool of my own blood.

One man would say that darkness hath no fellowship with light, but as I write this of the details would lead a man of prayer into a preaching rampage; similar to the one Mrs. Evans went into when I had finished my Philosophy course. Though in the details that I relate; one would say that I have dabbled in the things that should not be -- as the nightmares that become a gothic tale. The night was dark as the inside of the Marynoll, the air was as cold as the flesh of the recently deceased.

That as I would relate of this, there was something in the dream that made references to several books that I read and to some that know me and my imagination, one would find that frightening to relate -- namely of the places I been into and almost got arrested for going into. Though as I went into the Marynoll, I thought about something that Jeramiah Jaskson had once said to me about my imagination; "Such an imagination as yours is an abomination to makind -- that is the result of not reading the Bible, Nick. Those who obey God's commandments are the ones that love Him.

And because they love Him, The Father will reveal himself to each of them. Nick your writings are an act of witchcraft in the eyes of God; turn away and repent of that abomination that which you call your work. It will do nothing but destroy you," Jeramiah stated, "Why don't start returning to church; since God chose you to be the holy person whom he loves, you must clothe yourself in with tenderhearted mercy, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. You must make allowence for each other's faults and forgive the person who offends you. Remember, the Lord forgave you, so you must forgive others." That as I remembered Jeramiah preaching that to me, I also remember of the dream that I re-visited a mase of rusted pipes and concrete.

in the shadows of the darkest day,
the children who pray, die come forever may

At first I did not know what that referred to, or why I remembered it to this day. But as I watched the news back in April, it referred to the shootings at Columbine. But still Jeramiah did not know I had visions of this nature, or he did not know that I kept a journal that kept track of the nightmares that haunted me the worst. Though as I walked in the maze of rusted pipes and concrete, I felt like the subject of a twisted science experiment.

I felt like one of those rodents that would be used in a fucking laboratory; someone that time could not explain and living in Chicago is unpredictalbe because something would change every night like it would be a whole different city by nightfall. That as I slept in the hospital because of the horrid mixture of anti-depressants that sent me up to the emergency room on September 17. That as I slept, the dream I had was more frightening than anything that I have seen while in my waking hours.

In the dream, walking around in the underground tunnels of Lower Wacker Drive; I had seen something that unlocked the darkest fears of someone from Mason City or anyone from North Iowa, and would haunt their imaginations forever. The body I saw in the dream was that of a young woman, about 28, thin build and blonde hair -- it is something that one would have me locked up for describing the details of the darkening revelation. Since I had moved out here, I believed that I have a supernatural connection the missing anchorwoman -- the one known as Husientruit.

The story of her kidnapping intrigued me since I had lived in Illinois. Though as I am desribing this narrative, one would say that this is too morbid for one to be writing. They may have said the same thing to Stephen King or H.P. Lovecraft when they first started, and to Poe that he took too much opium and alcohol; indeed -- they agree that I have gone a little mad when I am writing. That the locals in Iowa would say that I made a pact with the fucking devil because of the imagination that I have inside my mind. I know that if Tina Jacobson and Jerimiah Jaskson would be preaching until they fucking turned bright blue.

As I remember of Tina, the day that she dragged me to a church revival meeting was the day that she had told me that I have a dark mind that was needing deliverance. Such thoughts according to her are not to be written; she said, "Nick, your mind is that of something that is a result of reading too many horror novels and you should burn your heavy metal tapes. May God save your soul from what you are."

This is what I discovered in my mind that I tried to hide while I was going to church, I tried to hide the ideas that were Gothic and obscure; that as I sat in that revival meeting the thoughts in my mind were of the dreams and of the time when I visited a pagan landmark -- the air that I felt was cold, bitter as the words that Tina delivered. This as I write about Stonehenge I kept quiet about; quite until now.

The thoughts in mind where of that fucking dream, the markings on the ground inside of the cavern were of the thoughts inscribed by the horror books I have read and of the things that I came across at a Hallow'en Party. Namely of a seance that I have taken part in two years ago; I could barely remember the details in the ritual, but as I write this narrative -- one call the act a case of dementia.

But as I spent the night at the home of the hostess, the details in my mind are vivid of when I first went inside of the Marynoll. The thoughts that stand alone in the dark, dreary were those created of an overactive imagination that the nature would leave one locked away in the eyes of a small, Iowa town. Yet as this is written would be a sin to concieve such a hellish nightmare that stands alone -- alone in a form that would be a drive by shooting.

@---

January 10, 2000:

There was something to my dreams that I could place my finger on, though the thoughts that I am writing are of a dream that I had while I was staying in the hospital. What had triggered the dream is something that I had seen while I was walking around in Union Station. It was sometime in Mid August when I returned to Chicago for a week, I had just walked from the bus station in the Downtown area trying to get the train that would take me to the train terminal in Glen Ellyn, Illinois.

This was something that I could not fully describe in the detail. But as I am writing this journal, my thoughts are racing through my mind that I am writing this of my dreams. This was something that I could not get out of my mind because the person in the black veil had been walking around Union Station as a ghost, or a shadow that is walking with the Shades of Hades.

This dream I am writing is shunned in the eyes of a small town Christian, but as I am writing of this one would think that I have lost part of my mind after seeing the person that is walking around the hallways like a ghost and disappeared into the visiting Amish going east to Pennsylvania.

I sometimes wonder if that person in the black veil was a person, but one of the Shades of Hades. I had this dream while I was sleeping in the hospital because of an accidental overdose -- 500 mg of Seroquel, five OTC sleeping pills, and four pills of Advil. I could not walk, let alone sleep because I felt ill -- it was something out of a nightmare, but as I had laid down on the hospital bed -- I was hooked up to all sorts of machines. I was thinking to myself, "Oh shit, Oh my God, what is happening to me? I cannot move my arms because they felt like they were getting torn off from the elbows."

As the doctor and nurse had taken a blanket to wrap me up, I had no idea where I was or what they were doing to me. Though the nurse walked me over the cat scan, it felt as I was walking in my sleep -- but yet my eyes were wide awake.

The being in the Black Veil had appeared in form of a black shape -- as ghost or a shadow. May God lock me up in the mental health unit because of what I am writing -- the thoughts are a crime to think about because of they were from rural Iowa. I had kept the thing about the black veil to myself until now. For one as I to be referring that individual in the black veil as ghost would be accurate because the individual moved very quietly through the hallway of Union.

As I am seeing this, I was thinking, "Nick -- take your fucking medication because you are having a bad dream, a nightmare. You have been reading too many horror novels, and seeing that individual in the Black Veil. That as I would lay there in the Emergency Room, I would see her walking in a long veil that looked like a vampire cape -- that whom had appeared in Union Station as a Shade of Hades.

The thoughts in my mind are something that I could not put a finger on, namely of the dreams that I was told a Christian should be conceiving -- let alone writing about it in a journal. It would be they would of found out about the Halloween party of 1997 where most of the patrons were really witches. I was the only writer in there.

Even then when I had stayed in the home of the hostess, I kept having this dream about a being that walked around in a Black Veil that I had later came across when I came into Union Station in Chicago. One cannot say why I had seen this person or individual, but as I am writing this -- I am still seeing the Black Veil in my dreams. It was something that I am haunted by in my sleep -- not in the sense that it frightens me, but as something that has a supernatural overtone to it. Though this is a theory, but the dream was something that I could not place a finger on.

One of the faith community would be telling me that I did not see a being that looked like one of the Shades of Hades; it is something that is not said among the Christians in Iowa. Their idea of the supernatural is the hand of Him, but as I begin to write more and the ideas are much darker -- the thoughts that are in my mind are not that of a stable man and is drowning in a daydream of a being that walks around in a black veil.

This was something that drove me into writing this journal -- the dream of seeing that stranger who was clad in black, wearing a long black cloak and scarf to cover their face. My guess of the individual in the black veil -- that is a guess and one that would never answer the question of the person wearing the black veil.

Denial -- denial of the image in my mind of the being inside of my dreams. I could not place my finger on it until now. Even now when I would see that being in my dreams, I cannot put my finger on the dreams. The thoughts that would forever haunt my mind are of those referring to the individual in the black veil -- the being that haunts me as a dark shadow, one of the Shades of Hades. As I would write this, these thoughts had haunted my mind for the past three years, but now as I am remembering what a doctor in Evanston had said to me at part of my therapy was to write of something that is strong inside my mind. This that I write is strong as I would walk inside of my dreams to see a shadow -- one of the Shades Of Hades.

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