Dream of: 11 January 1997 "Hell Was Here"

I was sitting in a large rectangular room – probably ten meters long and five meters wide. The room was bare except for myself and two other people – sitting in hardback chairs – and a kitchen table in the middle of the room. The room, which had a hardwood floor, seemed to remind me of some room from my past, of a house in which I had once lived; but I couldn't remember exactly where.

The two other people – a man and a woman – were probably in their early 20s. The three of us had been having a conversation about character traits which people developed. Since I felt much older than the other two, I thought I knew more about the topic and I tried to think of a way of explaining to them what I knew about the subject of character traits. I began by saying that once a character trait was established in a person, the trait was extremely difficult, but not impossible, to eradicate.

To illustrate what I was saying, I wanted to use my dreams as examples. I told the other two that during the course of writing my dreams over the years, I had discovered that certain people continually reappeared in my dreams, and that these people represented character traits of myself. To further show what I meant, I told my two companions to look at the table.

Hanging above the table was a row of about 20 books. Some kind of cord or bar had been placed over the table, and all the books were hanging on the bar, the way newspapers sometimes hang on a rod in a library. I pointed to the books and explained to the other two that these books could be compared to the characters in my dreams, with each book containing the dreams of a different character. The characters had appeared in so many dreams, I could actually write a book about each one. But my whole point was to show just how deeply ingrained these characters were in my mind, and how difficult it would be to remove them from my mind.

As I pondered the subject further, a startling memory returned to me. I debated for a moment whether to reveal the memory, then announced to the other two, "I killed two people."

My point in now discussing the murders I had committed was to further point out how difficult it was to change a person's character. I wanted to show the other two that when I had killed the two people in my past, my character had been shaped by the event, and the murders had changed my character. However, even though I knew my character had been severely affected by the murders, I also knew it wasn't impossible for me to eliminate the effect of the murders from my character – it was however extremely improbable that I would erase the character changes produced by the murders.

I had never discussed the murders with anyone and had kept them secret for all these years. It gave me a certain sense of internal distinction, to know that I had actually killed two people, and that no one else knew or suspected I had done so. Of course the main reason I had kept the murders secret was to avoid punishment. But now, after so many years, I thought it safe to finally talk about the murders, and I began trying to remember them.

I slowly realized both murders had taken place in this very room. However the details of the murders didn't return to me easily. It seemed as if both victims had been men. I seemed to recall strangling one of the men on the floor, and then kicking him in the head. But that memory was indistinct and I couldn't be sure. It was surprising, and a bit disturbing to me, to think that I had killed someone and that I couldn't even remember the details. I thought my two companions would doubt I had even committed the murders if I couldn't even recall and relate the details to them.

The second murder was much clearer. Right across the room from where I was sitting was a window, and I recalled I had committed the second murder by throwing a man out of the second-story window.

I was however completely unprepared for what happened next. Just as I was about to tell my two companions about throwing the man out the window, the woman spoke up before I said anything, and asked me if I had killed one of my victims by throwing him out that window. I was startled to think she already knew the details of that murder. But it was quite clear she did know, and she proceeded to explain, "Hell was here."

She went on to clarify her rather enigmatic statement. She knew about the murder because she had been to this room once before, and hell, in the form of a person, had entered through the window. Although the reason for hell's presence was vague, it was clear that hell had come through the window because a murder had been committed here. At the same time hell had entered through the window, the woman had been made aware of the murder.

This news was extremely alarming to me. It meant that perhaps it hadn't been wise of me to bring up the subject of the ancient murders after all, that perhaps I could still be punished for them. What was even more startling was the disconcerting image I began to have of hell coming as a person through the window. I had somewhat of a vision of a person, but of a person without clear features, as if covered by mud and fire and slime, walking across the room in front of me. The only clear feature I could discern on the person was a ghastly scar which ran from the top of the head all the way down the face.

In a flash it was clear to me what all of this meant. I hadn't escaped punishment for the murders which I had committed so long ago. This image of hell portrayed what still awaited me, and this was what I must someday face. There was only an ever so slight flicker of hope still in my mind – what I had been thinking earlier about character change. I still thought it was true that it wasn't impossible to eradicate even the worst aspect of character. However I knew it was extremely difficult, and as I stared at the vision, all I could say was, "Oh my God."

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