Discover more from The Last Hundred Miles
October 19th, 1977
I rouse myself from deep, trance-like, surrealistic nightmares. I am sleeping on the sofa. Ensconced amid quilts and sheets and books and magazines and an overflowing ashtray. I have moved the television out of my bedroom into the living room; and pushed the coffee table nearly up against the sofa, for ease in flicking ashes.
Tonight is the second time in the past few days that I have had this particular type of a nightmare. Essentially I dream that I am dreaming. I am aware of my exact circumstance. That’s why I say trance-like. Tonight I dreamed that I was lying here on the sofa half asleep. Across the room I saw a huge shadowy black figure of a man with a black hat and cape. He was lurking and evil. Unable to move (usually in my dreams I am immobilized) I started trying to ward him off in the name of Jesus. He was seductive and powerful. I felt possessed and raised up off the sofa making animal noises. Yet I knew what was happening. I resisted.
Finally I was able to wake up and felt quite happy to be in my little apartment. I went into the kitchen and drank cold water from the refrigerator and had a cheese and onion and chili sandwich and fed my dog pieces of cheese. She’s now curled up quite contentedly at the other end of the sofa. I realize, nightmares and all, that I am happy living alone.