I often dream of snow-filled yards with snowmen everywhere or of sitting at the top of a mountain at sunrise. They are beside me. They being the two most amazing pixies who share my life. Those are the good nights.

And sometimes I dream of horrors too fearful to discuss. At times, I wake from one nightmare only to find myself inside another. And another. And another.

After over seventy suns in this place, I have accumulated my share of guilt. Things I have said or done that I wish I had not. But certainly not enough to justify all these nightmares.

But I know whose nightmares they are.

A few are nightmares from those who have joined the spirits that I may have forgotten. Loved ones who should be remembered and offer some unpleasant reminders that there is room in our hearts for remembering all those we love.

Others are from events that occurred earlier and had a significant impact on my view. Two childhood friends drowning about a year apart, my long suffering mother, two sisters consumed by leukemia, a friend murdered on 9/11, etc. My list is much too long.

Most are "gifts" from victims I have worked with during my decades as a volunteer rape crisis counselor. They are horror stories given in hopes they never return or stay away long enough for them to be at peace.

I write about these visions and hope they won't make you lose your last meal. Or click your back button, (^o^)

Some are very close to evil and others are almost childish. Warm or cold, they all seem odd. Just as nightmares should.

Welcome to my nightmares.

---

The computer screen reads "Knock, knock, Neo." and someone knocks on the door. I nearly jump off the sofa.

And then I remember.

I am watching 'The Matrix' with a friend who has never seen it. It's one of my favorites because of the spiritual element.

It is like I have been dropped into a scene in a movie without a script but I hope that when it comes to the right moment, I can slip my arm around her and see how she reacts. Or maybe I should ask first?

I notice how sticky my hands feel. I look down to see them covered with blood. Not mine. I see no wounds and feel no pain. Then whose is it?

Most of me does not want to turn my head but I must.

I am so relieved to see no blood, and her eyes are intently watching the screen while she nibbles on a bit of my pot-corn.

It is difficult to scan the rest of the room. Where is the body? Where is all the blood?

By the time I get around to checking my hands again, they are clean. But now I hold a curved knife. One that is perfect for cutting through enough layers of skin and muscle to make as much blood as I saw on my hands.

Is the blood a scene from my past or my future?

And then she says, "This is a great, romantic movie. It's making me very horny. Do you have David's phone number?".

I have no idea who sang it but suddenly I hear some song about love that says it "cut's like a knife". So I do.

After the first slash, I realize I have only cut skin and a few muscles but nothing that would make her squirt. Her mouth starts to open and I don't know if she is going to say something so I slash again. And again. So many times.

Long enough to be panting and sweating. I look down and see all the blood returned. By the time I look back, her eye is bleeding so I guess I missed or caught her when her head dropped forward. I forget. I can no longer look into her lifeless eyes and return to the screen.

Trinity is telling Neo that she is destined to fall in love with "the one". And she loves him so he can't die.

I wonder if it work with us and suddenly the horror of what I did feels like electricity going through me. I spasm and twitch as the horror sinks in to my heart.

Why? How? Where did the knife come from? I weep.

And then, the credits are over and I know I have to die. Anyone capable of such brutality has no place in a civilized society.

I decide that if I stab myself in the eye, I might have enough time to twist the knife and a part of my brain will become mush.

I thrust ...........

---

I thrust my hands into my pockets and wondered why I didn't have any gloves.

And then I remembered.

My car broke down and I was too anxious to accept a ride with two gorgeous females. The driver was a bit over-endowed for my tastes but the passenger was either Japanese or Korean. The idea of a sandwich suddenly crept into my filthy mind.

Had my hormones been in check, I'm sure I'd have grabbed my coat and gloves but at least it was only a mile to my house from where they dropped me. At least I thought it's a mile.

Rather confusing since I didn't remember my name but knew where I lived. Everything looked so familiar; the snow-covered pines and the river ahead. In my mind, I could see the bridge just around the curve in the road.

I'd travelled it many times but didn't seem to remember any of them.

As I rounded the curve, the scene was exactly as I expected. A few homes near the shore on the opposite side, a boat mooring or two, the section of trees still dead from a fire a few years back.

It felt good to be home. Maybe I had a loving wife who would gladly console me with pure, animal sex before calling the tow truck. Or a loving, oversexed wife with a four-wheeler. Maybe she had a tow truck?

As I neared the beginning of the bridge, I heard a vehicle behind me. I wasn't planning on putting out my thumb. Maybe one of the shore homes was mine. I thought so. So it was too close for a ride.

But a tooting horn convinced me to turn. As I did, I realized I had drifted into the middle of the road.

I had almost enough time to wonder if I could jump out of the way of the approaching truck. Almost. First I heard my bones being pulverized and then I felt them.

I bounced so high .........

---

I bounced so high when the raft hits another swirly thing in the water that I scream and I wonder why I am in a raft.

And then I remember.

There was a new student in the dorm and she made me drool. Literally. I had to cover my mouth.

I can't imagine why fate plays such tricks but she ends up my roommate. It is so hard to talk to her about schedules, professors, other students and mostly, my preference for women who look and act and are exactly like her.

That's when she says she is a lesbian. Forgive me for being so graphic, but I came. When she said she had no one, I thought my legs would go limp.

And a few days later, after we finish exploring each other, she wants to explore her new surroundings. I am hoping for a nice hike in the mountains but she choses white-water rafting, whatever that is.

But I am infatuated. Wherever she goes, I will follow. Sky-diving, hang-gliding, whatever. As long as it means we end up together at the end of day.

In the middle of the "potential death if I let go", I see her across the boat. Holding on with one hand as if to be brave. She gives a naughty look toward my pussy and starts licking her lips.

And suddenly the river is calm. No more white water but a lake so serene we need to paddle. Someone hands me one that is tied to the boat in case one of us ends up in the water.

We paddle forever until we finally reach shore. Most of us fall to the ground, exhausted. But not her. She helps pull the boat ashore and stands over me with an evil smile and says our outdoor adventure has just begun.

I can't believe how easily I get wet from mere words. Of course she knows how to turn those words into actions.

Someone builds a campfire and we cook some kind of fish thing that tastes horrible but it's food. I watch as she throws the tent. I'm sorry pitches the tent. It will be our home for the night and so close we will have to keep our noises quiet. That will be a challenge.

But she is not interested. "Not here?", she says, "let's find a quiet spot for ourselves".

We take a flashlight in case it get's dark before we're finished and make our way until we are sure we are out of hearing range.

After the blanket is spread, I nearly rip my clothes off and lie down waiting for her to command me. She teases with how slowly she undresses and then she is on me. She starts kissing my lips, my face and everywhere. Head to toe and halfway back until she settles on that area of pleasure.

I try to contain myself but she is too good and I shake from an intense orgasm. And then I hear a noise. Perhaps another of our group has followed or maybe a deer is curious about my moans. I don't care.

By lying down, I can see behind me, although it is upside down. No sign of deer or fox. But she is so good I must watch.

That is when I see the bear. Perhaps we have woken her or angered her from the noise. Maybe she fears for her cubs.

With one swipe of her paw, my lovers head loses half of it's matter. Blood everywhere and I briefly ponder what type of God would give us such love and destroy it with such horror.

Next, her paws and mouth are on me. I see bits of myself tossed into the air but I dare not look into her eyes.

I scream so loudly ...

---

I scream so loudly that someone has to hear.

Someone to save me from this sadist. This horrid little man whose only goals seem to be causing me pain and growing a pathetic moustache.

And then I remember.

I remember being stripped of my clothes and dignity and all my hair being removed with sulphur. My head and arms were burned enough to bleed.

Then there were the thumbscrews. Small little tools that have crushed any hope of holding anything ever again. The blood squirting out of the tips of my fingers and thumbs with nowhere else to go except the wall and his pathetic little face.

That was only the beginning. Next came the strappado. Tying my hands behind my back and lifting me by a rope and dropping me so that my limbs are dislocated. And the chair with spikes that pierce my back and legs and buttocks and genitals and the low fire burning beneath.

I want to confess but I don't know why I am here or what I did. He won't tell me so I invent things but that only brings out other pieces of metal and wood designed to rip and tear or burn or impale.

I want to die. The pain is too severe but there is no way I can get him to kill me. I've offered the most vile sexual acts with him or others but he merely grins and hurts me more.

I see the next device as they drag it in. It appears to be a small wooden horse with a phallic shaped protruding object going up and down as the wheels turn. My vision is blurred so I must not see what my fears tell me it is. I hear him yell for water and realize I am losing contact with reality.

There seems to be some odd feeling of bliss that overcomes me as though I will soon be with those I love and there will be no pain or sorrow. I feel them unchain me from the chair and start to drag me and know I will not survive long enough to be tied to the horse. The monster continues douseing me with water in hopes of keeping me awake.

My mind drifts to a better place and time ....

---

My mind drifts to a better place and time .... And then I remember.

It's our anniversary. We have come to the place where we first consummated our marriage. When we first "knew" each other in the biblical sense. It was on the ground, as though we were two rutting animals. As it should be.

A glorious field few humans know exists. A long hike from the floor of the crater that over the last few millenia has become a tarn or lake on the mountain. A long climb over volcanic rock that even gloves can not make soft.

There are snow-capped mountains in the distance and it feels like spring. Yes. Spring. We met at the "End of Year" celebration. One look and we both felt it was the end of our search for gesaluet; our love, our partner, our heart.

She knew this place well. It had been a place she visited since she was a little girl. Her hidden place to go when the hurt was too much for words, a place to share her sadness. Or to come in times of joy to share that glorious feeling with the birds, fish and other creatures.

I feel so blessed she brought me here. We proclaimed our love to those with legs and fins and wings. To the mountains and crater and lake. To anyone and everyone.

It has been nearly fifty suns since that day, yet it seems like yesterday. Each year, it is the same. An open proclamation of what is most dear to us. Each other.

I have learned to love this place almost as much as I love her. Almost.

She fills my life with joy by merely being her. A smile one day, or the laugh the next. Perhaps a view of ankle or shoulder. Some part of her she gives to me without reason or cost. To share herself as with no other.

Yet there are times when my mind is filled with hatred and anger and I think of horrific ways to kill, maim and torture. Torture devices from the darkest and foulest periods of our history and those yet to be invented.

Over those fifty loving and wonderful years, I have killed too many to count, painfully and horribly. A hundred seems too many yet a thousand seems too few.

But never here. It is not that type of place. This is a place of love and perfection.

A place where murderers and victims will never visit. A place for us.

As she returns from honoring those who have joined the spirits, I can see in her eyes the same woman I met so many decades ago.

And I am grateful for so many things. For her. For here. And for not having a computer for writing my worst nightmares.