I Need a Valium

  I am making a joke out of what happened to me last night. Every word of it is true. That is one of my tamer nightmares. I have had them so bad that my wife wakes me up and convinces me that what had happened was indeed a dream. I have never had such vivid dreams filled with pure fear. Sometimes the Col. is trying to kill me. He chases me, runs me down, tortures me, and it has been going on since 1978. It got so bad back in 2003 I was admitted into the VA hospital in Tuscaloosa, Al. I was told, then, that I suffered from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I had never heard of PTSD. When it was explained to me by other patients, veterans with the diagnosis of PTSD, I did not think that it applied to me. I was never in combat, never been to war. All the guys that I was in group therapy with, they all were in combat. Some were in the Vietnam War while others were in the gulf war. I was told by my therapist not to discuss my case in group until he talked with the higher-ups because mine involved a crime. Albeit, over thirty years ago. After about two weeks my therapist came to me and told me that I had the OK to tell my story. An investigation was not opened after the Col.'s death. He had no children and his wife had passed away long ago. I felt like I did not deserve to be in the same group with these guys. To me, they were heroes. I got up the nerve to tell my story and you could have heard a pin drop after I finished. They came up to me and hugged my neck and told me that I was a part of them, that I had PTSD and they would do anything for me to help me get through it. I wish they were here, now.  theblogmeister

Who's There?

  The noise was so loud it woke me from a deep sleep. I sat up in bed as still as I could be. My wife's breathing was the only sound that I could hear. I then noticed the tic-tic of the clock at our bedside. The iridescent glow told me that it was 1:08 am. My heart beat soon drowned out the sound of her breathing followed by the sound of the clock. All I could hear, now, was the double bass beat of my atrium and ventricle. My brain was sending signals to my ears in order to figure out what woke me in the first place, hoping for a repeat to find the culprit. My eyes were no use to me because of the darkness. That made my auditory senses much sharper. I sat there for a few minutes trying to decide what to do next when I heard it, again. My pupils had dilated to allow more light and I could see my wife lying on her side, facing away from me. I had not noticed how dark our bedroom was at this time of the morning. It was dark. I had to rely on my hearing which was becoming very acute. The noise sounded like it was coming from the front room. Our bedroom is at the back of the house and I could still hear that something was not right. I live in a house that was built sometime in the forties and it has the sounds most old houses have. This was not an ordinary sound. It was loud enough to wake me up from a dead sleep. I sat there frozen, not wanting to wake my wife. We have a poodle that sleeps at the foot of the bed on his dog blanket. He is 14 years old with cataracts in both eyes but that don't affect his hearing. There is nothing wrong with his hearing. It's fine. Then why does he not hear the noise in the front room? Shit! I cannot lay back down until I figure out what the hell is going on."Pooh," I whispered. That is the dog's name. Blind and deaf. Just my luck.
  I quietly turned and put my feet on the floor trying to locate my house shoes. Damn, the floor is cold. My night vision has found its groove and I can see, a little. What I couldn't see was my house shoes. I tip-toed towards my dresser to get a pair of socks. There it was, again! Someone or something was definitely in my house. My foot brushed up against something. My house shoes. I slipped them on and made my way to the bedroom door. My night vision is not good enough, I have to get some help. In the top drawer of my dresser is a pen light. I need that light. I, with great care, slide open my dresser drawer about six inches, just enough to get my hand inside. Something is not right. I keep a box in the right-hand corner of the drawer filled with tie clips, cuff links, my class ring, and assorted items. The box is not there. I stand very still and think about what I've done. I got out of bed on the left but I sleep on the right. I can barely see the room but I can see enough to know the arrangement is all wrong. There is very little light coming through the window. There looks to be some sort of heating and air-conditioning unit running the length and below the window. A television is mounted about six feet off the floor. A curtain is mounted in the middle of the room pulled past the foot of the bed. My breathing is going to give me away, it is that loud. I close my eyes tight and try to concentrate on slowing my breathing when I hear the noise, again. It sounds like it is just outside my door. I am wondering if it is my door, my room. Hell, is this my house? Thoughts are racing through my brain at warp speed. I must be dreaming. That has to be what is happening. It would explain everything. A crooked smile has me starting to relax. I am not used to mellow dreams. They are usually horror flicks. Relief.
  I grope for the switch on the wall and flip it up. What the hell! I find myself bathed in bright florescent light. I am standing in the middle of a hospital room with two beds, the curtain separating the two. One bed is empty and fully made. No one has been lying in that bed. This has got to be the weirdest dream I have ever experienced. I could not see if anyone was using the other bed. I was closer to the door when I hear a noise coming from the other side of the curtain. It sounded like someone gargling Listerine. Where the hell did my wife go? I know I was just lying beside her moments ago. I thought I was, at least. Please, God, wake me up. I do not like this, at all. I reach for the door and slowly open it. The light from the room was shining on my refrigerator. Now I am totally confused. I just want to wake up. I opened the door completely and could see my kitchen. I felt a little better, so, I walked over to the sink, turned the cold water on, cupped my hands and splashed water on my face. Shit, that's cold! I turn and look at my bedroom door and it is closed. I could see it by the light over the oven we use for a night light. Yes! Finally. It has been a while since I did any sleep walking. I almost laughed out loud. You don't know what a relief I felt. I was tired all of a sudden and decided to go back to that warm bed. I opened the door and all the air left my body. I stood dead still. I could not move. It was the Col. sitting up in his hospital bed staring into my wide eyes. Why? Why? I slammed the door and ran. I ran as fast as I could go with a back that has been fused. I stopped when I realized that He would not follow. He will be waiting for me in my dreams, with open arms. 
 

What Have I done?

  For all of my readers I have relived the traumatic event that ruined my life. Now, I am not blaming you, at all. I made the choice to go back and give all my readers the story that happened so long ago and the consequences of reliving that day. The problem with reliving a traumatic event is that it brings out the very thing that has caused havoc in my life. PTSD is a very cunning disease. It can last for years and sometimes get worse with age. It is not like a bottle of fine wine, on the contrary, as soon as you open that bottle it is almost like Satan himself is released. All of the pain, in my case, exploded to the forefront. My nightmares have returned with a vengeance. I am afraid to go to sleep.
  There is a big difference between the conscious mind (Being awake and aware of your surroundings) and the sub-conscious mind (having absolutely no control of your surroundings.) I have even consulted with a hypnotherapist to try to change my sub-conscious thoughts. I have even considered acupuncture. Do I sound desperate? The terror filled nights that I have experience has begun to question my sanity. I think about our men in the military and what horrors they have witnessed. I pray for them and I hope you will add them in your prayers whether you agree with the United States' foreign policy. It sickens me to see Americans that hold rallies invoving dead soldiers funerals and yell that they got what they deserve. I'm sure you know about the church in Kansas that pickets those military burials spouting cruel and inhumane voices at the grieving families. I believe in freedom of speech but let those crazies exercise their right in Kansas, not all over the country at our fallen heroes funerals.
  Because of my charge nurse that supervised me on the surgical floor I worked while in the military, I was ordered to care for a dying patient that manipulated me into taking his life. Medicine was my life. Because of her not wanting to displease a dying patient I was ordered to care for him, exclusively. Had my commanding officer on our floor explained to the Col. that I could not care for him any longer my life would be fulfilled with a dream since childhood. I would have become a doctor. Saving countless lives instead of ruining my own

He's Back

  The sound woke me up with a jolt.It had to be coming from inside the house. I checked on my wife, she was sound asleep. I slowly got up out of my bed, not to disturb Lorri. The sound was distinct, close. I could not believe Lorri did not hear it. I slowly got out of bead making sure to be very quiet. It sounded like it was coming from the front bedroom. I sneaked through the house not to disturb, I did not want to whomever it was that he had been heard. I slowly walked toward the front of the house. I could hear the faint drumming of medical equipment. I slowly made my way towards the front bedroom. There was a light emanating from around the door. I could not see into the bedroom, so, I had to make another plan. I decided to go outside at the window air-conditioner to see if I could hear anything that was coming from that room. My Dad usually used that room when he stayed with me but I could tell for sure this was not my Dad's doings. First of all, Dad's car was not parked in my driveway. Who could it be? I went back to check on my wife and she was sound asleep. I went back to the A/C outside to see if I could hear anything out of the room. I heard what sounded like a patient in ICU. The ventilator, forcing air into someones lungs. What is happening? I am in my own home and these sounds are immpossible. I walked back inside and made my walk to the front bedroom. The door had about an inch gap between the floor and the bottom of the door. I laid out and looked under the door. I could see several hospital booties moving around a central figure. I barely made out the words. " Doctor, Mr. Riley's vitals are falling." came a voice that sounded female. "Give him another amp of lidocaine." The female voice aided.. I went to the bathroom and found a mirror to slide under the door in the hopes that I could see more. I slid it under the door and the first person I recognized was Col. DeBarge. I immediately started screaming at the top of my lungs. The Col. immediately recognized my voice. "Get him, " he yelled. I stood up and began to run as fast as I could. I did not recognize where I was, at first. The more I ran the environment came to me. I was at Eglin AFB, Florida. My mind was confused. This has never happened. I ran as fast as I could until I collapsed. When I came to there was the Col. standing above me with the most wicked smile I have ever seen. I was caught. This will be the end. I closed my eyes closed and I prayed. "God can't help you, now."
  I awoke with a jerk. My wife said, 'What is wrong? The Col." I just held her in my arms and cried.
  
"When will this stop? Will it ever stop?" The horror continues. The Col. will not give me peace. I don't know how much more I can handle before I lose my mind.                                  theblogmeister