Nocturnal Demons

The room was bathed in a bright white light. After a few moments my pupils adjusted and I began to make out what was in the room. The empty bedroom of my own home. How could this be? How can trauma from my past enter into the real world of my presence? I was in room 225 of ward 2-east at the Eglin AFB hospital in Ft. Walton Beach, Fl. An empty bed with the head of the bed at a 45 degree angle. Beside the bed was an IVAC pump with a bag of Lactated Ringers hanging on the pole, the IV tubing running toward the middle of the upper part of the bed where an arm would lie but I could not see anyone in the bed. I could hear the rhythm of a heart monitor. A steady, slow rhythm. The TV was on with the sound turned down. Running water in the bathroom. I walked toward the bathroom to see if anyone was there. I felt a stabbing pain in my neck. It felt like I was stung by a wasp. The warmth came immediately. My breathing became labored. My brain pumping massive amounts of adrenaline into my body. My only thought was to run. Then a crushing pain in my chest like the weight of a truck sitting directly on me. I collapsed to the floor struggling for my last few breaths I had in me. I looked up and saw Him. Smiling. His eyes wrinkling at the corners. The smile turned into a snarl, then He began laughing. He is back. He has not crossed over in my light. He still owns the night. theblogmeister