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Thursday, April 11, 2019

The Strong Man

I go to bed at about 7 pm. I wake at about 6 am. I sleep soundly throughout, except for getting up to pee 2 or 3 times. All this is after having slept a goodly part of the day as well. 

This is not normal, right? 

I said to the Lord not long ago, "Lord, please either heal me or take me." 

The Lord said, "No." 

Lol. 

So I guess I live with the plague the rest of my days. My goodness, could be 20 years or more! 

Last night I had a very vivid dream. There was a violent, super-strong man trying to break down my front door. I knew that he would soon shatter the door, so I steeled myself to face him. Eventually, he burst through the door and it was immediately clear that there was nothing I could do to resist him. The man brutally propelled me across the room, squeezing the life out of me as we crashed from wall to wall, and it became apparent to me that all I could do was press my thumbs into his eye sockets. The harder I pressed, the deeper I penetrated, so that finally I was pressing against the brain itself. I squeezed for all I was worth, and to my own surprise, at last the man collapsed, dead. 

I awoke, terrified but relieved. My right hand was curled into a fist that needed to be opened by using the fingers of my left. 

A long time ago when my father died, he said at some point during his final delirium, "My, that's a tall man behind your left shoulder!"

And he counted twelve men coming down a hill, pointing to each with his index finger. 

"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve. There! Do you see?

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