It is the darkness of reality that would invoke a phobia that would haunt the nightmares of the dead, the question that would remain inside of the claustaphobic state of mind as one would rest within their beds underground. The nightmares that would haunt them would be that of the death that they had died, the things that were said of the Christians about heaven and hell are a lie - a lie that would tell them that they were going to burn after death. All that would be said by them would be nothing but that of a thought conceived after one had moved on. That as one would die, he would allow his friends to drink his blood from him because he would know that he was going to die from the bleeding illness. That as he knew that he could not live the illness, he wrote a letter to his friends as an invitation to his own funeral. At the time that he penned the letter he was barely able to hold himself at the computer keyboard to write out his last will and testament. In a place where a Bible College was close by, he heard many people saying that God and Jesus loved him; he did not believe because of the illness that haunts him from the day that he was born.
It was about 9:30 Central Standard Time, the day was 20, September in 1996. Justin Williamson was one that was troubled with hemophilia - he feared that a single paper cut would make him seriously ill, and dreaded to break any bones because of the internal bleeding. The day that he wanted to die was on his 20th birthday because he was tired of the doctors drugging him and loading him up on medications that would thin out his blood. But when they would thin out his blood, he would feel that his flesh was a walking coffin because he knew that he was dying a slow death because a single cut would claim his life. In his sleep, he would dream that he was bleeding and the bleeding would not stop - walking and leaving behind trails of blood as he would slowly walk the halls of Wheaton College. He was told that he would be healed of the illness, but the only healing of the illness is when the invitation to the cemetery gates opened from the inside.
It is in the sleep of the suicide that would invoke the nightmares of the postmortem, that one would see himself in a modified witch's cradle, or bound in a similar device - laying flat upon his back looking to the empty skies. Death looks up him as a shadow that is deep within his mind. The phobia that would haunt him as he would allow himself to bleed to death - falling slowly into a sleep that goes at the rhythm of the bell that chimes. Waiting in the dream to take him down into the death of sleep. That would stand alone inside are the phobias that will stand inside of the sanitarium as he would lay as in the dreams of cemetery rest. The thoughts within his mind are left alone within the nightmares, as he was bound alone in the cradle sack - knowing that he could not move, all he could do is sleep and pray that the dreams will not begin again. Only as he would fall asleep into a darkened slumber, the thoughts that would be in his mind are that of a sanitarium bed that was next to him - where the roommate was bound by restraints because he tried to slice the throat of one of the nurses. The slice in her throat was near fatal, and the doctors found him drinking on her blood. She was laying there gasping for air as liquid crimson burned from the gaping wound in her throat.
They were able to save her, but they said that she would never be able to speak again as long as she lived because of where her throat was cut - the cut was at vocal cords and one of the major veins in her neck. The doctors said that she had lost a great deal of blood, and they had applied electroshock therapy to keep the bastard under control - the individual had slit one of my wrists and began to drink from my cut. One of those thoughts that is appalling enough to conceive, but as one falls asleep - one can see the nightmares that begin again in their head. The thoughts that are remaining in one's mind that is of the disturbing picture of that nurse bleeding to the point were she would of died - that I could see her grasping onto her New Testament and the cross around her neck as the fucker drank from her throat like beer from a tap. The thought that would remain in one's mind of the horror is that of one that would remain as he is bound in the witch's cradle alone within a vague, empty field - alone in the thoughts that would be in his mind, immobilized and helpless to the horrors that would forever play in his mind of the phobia that was invoked within the dark side of the mind. The horrors that would play inside of the psycho phobia as he would remain in the darkness and light.
Such horror that would remain within the mind is that of what will last one hundred years, as one is within the sleep which one would not awaken from. The dreams that would haunt one into the life that would not be after death as would the state of reincarnation - only to realize if there is a heaven and hell, they cannot exist without the other. Only as one is bound there in the dark, they would realize that heaven and hell are a phobia invoked by the dogma of the sermons that would be firmly planted into the eternally blind. Of the phobias one had been taught to fear in church, had been said only to hide the truth behind the lies told about mental illness - only to tell them that they need to be saved. Salvation; a fairy tale told to the children to behave and deny their curiosity that would make them question. But as they would fall asleep, they are told not to question and read what they had been taught. That as they would fall asleep, the nightmares that would become of them are that they would walk down the street and to their terror, they would stumble over a corpse that has a hole in their mother fucking head where they can see through.
They would wake up in their beds to a bloodcurdling scream of bloody murder, knowing that the horror within their mind is that of a phobia that is all to real - that which would stupefy them; afraid to fall asleep again. A horror of that nature is similar to that that I had seen within the sanitarium because they would see the ones with the hole in their head - the ones that killed them would be drinking from the wounds of the dead, lukewarm blood flowing from the bullet hole that was made in the head of their prey. The thoughts that would remain are not the same for Justin Williamson - as he would discuss this dream |
