The Evil Within Me

Over the course of a person's life, everyone remembers events that are so profound that it can never be forgotten. Like the name you were born with, it is indelibly imprinted in an area of a person's subconscious mind that is unalterably hard wired, baring an unforeseen illness or injury, from the time of birth to the instant that person's soul leaves it's mortal body. Over the course of my sixty five years now, there have been two such events that will forever remain with me to the day I die.
The most recent event was March 10th, 2016 and the fifteen days immediately preceding it. That is the day the love of my life, soul mate and companion of thirty seven years departed this mortal existence to seek comfort and refuge in God's loving embrace.

The second event is actually the first. Here it is.

As I continued my journey down the deserted dirt road occasionally having to avoid pools of standing water in various depressions along the way, I began to worry that I would not find refuge from the bitter cold winters night that was descending on me and my newborn child. It seemed that I had been walking forever down this road but had not come upon even the most meager structure that could provide even the least shelter to us. After walking further, I stopped briefly and turned to the west where I saw, through the barren oak forest, the cold low cloudy sky threatening even more snow and the fading evening light that was announcing the arrival of the end of the day. Although I was caught completely unprepared for the bitter cold, my child, that was conceived in me and born from my body was wrapped in a heavy wool blanket with not even his face showing to the bitterly cold temperatures.
As I continued on, to my great surprise and heartfelt relief, I came upon an old deserted country church with a towering steeple and cross still standing atop it all painted in white. Taking the last few steps to the front of the church, I began to climb the eight steps up to the double doors that lead into the foyer. Uncertain of what I might find inside, I cautiously opened the door to find the foyer empty but leading to two doors opening in opposite directions in the center of the far wall.
The door to the left was only slightly cracked open but the door on the right was tightly closed so I dared to open the left door just enough that I could look inside. Although it was dark inside, my eyes quickly became accustomed to the darkness to see an empty cold sanctuary with all of the pews still neatly arranged as if ready for the next Sundays services. The pulpit ready for the pastor and the alter ready to receive prayers from the congregation. Just to the right of the door, a solid wall ran from between the two doors all of the way down to the altar splitting the church into two equal halves. The cold and darkness inside was frightening but my desire for shelter compelled me to inter where I cautiously inched inside and clung to the wall as I crept toward the front of the church.
After clinging to the center wall all of the distance to the altar, I came upon another door. This door connected the two halves of the church where, upon looking inside, I saw an old round cast iron stove in the middle of the room, glowing pale red with the heat radiating out warming the entire room. Not a soul around other than me and my child.
As I entered and began to creep ever closer to the warmth, comfort and security of that stove, my child began to stir so I decided to remove the wool blanket from his face where, in utter shock and horror, I looked upon the most terrifying, grossly evil face I or anyone else could ever come close to imagining. I saw the face of pure evil in my child, conceived in me and born of me.
In witnessing what I had conceived, I instinctively flung my arms apart, dropping the thing I had born to the floor and ran out of the church into the cold winter screaming in pain and horror.
That's when I woke up!

Some may think this is just an imaginative story I wrote just now but the dream was real. It happened some 25 years ago and I actually wrote about this dream two years later for a Freshman Comp. writing assignment after I went back to school to pursue an associate degree in industrial electronics. I have reproduced it accurately here because the dream is just as vivid now as it was 25 years ago.
I don't think it needs interpretation, do you?

never mind

a reply to: CharlesT

I am so sorry for your loss.

Sorry for your loss of your love.

Who do you believe your child in your dream to be? I'm wondering your interpretation, it must have made a strong impression on you to remember it for so long. I also have dreams that have stayed with me as long as yours, some are just this strong.

Blessings be you.

a reply to: CharlesT

Sorry for your recent loss. Your story is well written. I assume you write often. If not, you should. I have had some odd dreams that i cannot shake as well. One from about 30 years ago. Maybe i'll write it down someday.

I am so very sorry to hear of the los of your loved one. I don't understand your dream or how you interpret it.

I thought the child born from you might be the inner child within us all. Perhaps you feel that the inner child within you has been corrupted and that you have lost all feelings of youth and innocence. The church you find yourself in is a direct contradiction to the evil you hold in your arms.

You are surrounded by something pure and holy, while still holding on to something very evil. You are perhaps trying to escape the guilt of the past, coming in from the cold and trying to reconcile your sins while the child within you is corrupted by evil. You describe the church as being ready to receive congregants, meaning you are ready within to change, you are ready to feel he innocence that comes with youth, but you hold something unhealthy dear to your heart.

Im no expert, maybe the dream just means you are hungry. If there are details you missed please add them

Dreams are great. Lets figure this out!

This guy knows about negativity

a reply to: Woodcarver

No, I never write but my composition 1 instructor did expressly say that I "could" be a writer. Thanks for the compliment.