Alarmingly Strange Stories
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Interdimensional Horror: Part of the alarming nature of the unknown is its mysterious link to the known. I awake each night to a lewd exhibition of the merging. I open my eyes and turn to see the digital alarm clock, sitting on the lamp table next to my bed and see 12:12, then 1:11 am, 2:22 am, 3:33 am and then 4:44 am. This distresses me so badly upon awakening that I cannot think; just a wave of panic that SOMETHING is awaking me, as the calculated odds of awakening each night precisely at those specific times is astronomically impossible. The message intended seems to throw me off balance and keep me wrapped in fearful confusion and lets me know that I am being toyed with, but yields no greater insight than to let me know that when I sleep, I wander amongst monsters and beasties. Sometimes after abductions, the interdimensional door left open, invites the gangster fringe element of the spirit world; sometimes demons are thrown into the equation as spite work for attempts at thwarting abductions. But the unseen sinister world is as real as the nose on your face. The building called Harold Hall, since renamed, perhaps stands four stories and houses some eighty families. The basement area is the only place I've encountered, face to face, the entity that followed me home and whom stands gauntly by my bed at night and delivers mind-blowing dreams. It stands at the Intersection of 92 St and Fort Hamilton Parkway, in Brooklyn not far from Shore Road, on the Narrows and abuts the old army base still there. Fort Hamilton Army Base, I know nothing of the history of this building except that when I left, sure that anyone who entered the basement would meet it. It seemed to have moved with me. I am straddling the fence of the twilight zone surrounded by harassing, omnipresent, sinister, psychic, tenacious entities whose presence fills me with wonder and indignation. Bless you for your patience. Out of the body attacks differ from my dreams in their vivid 3d total sensory envelopment and the inherent viciousness in provoking angst, realistic in every way as compared to consciousness. The perspective is waking to find I am asleep wrapped in delusional thoughts and scenes, dreams so aligned with negative thoughts that the scenarios reveal that they are imposed, by virtue of their worst scenario plots and their vividness. They, whomever these discorporate negative thought entities are, are masters of delusions and I have recognized the raw power of the vividness as more than my murky dream scenarios could ever muster and am convinced we are dead wrong about the nature of dreaming. At night, your astral body travels to realms from angelic to demonic, a spirit world of myriad vibrational levels and the pictures you see on the backs of your eyelids, while you R.E.M., are not dreams but visits. Souvenirs of a greater reality, like a goldfish who never suspects a greater world beyond the ponds surface, the limited awareness of humankind floats beneath the surface of a greater reality; groping, mouth agape in total ignorance.

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