I suppose when one mentions an experience about Pure Evil (like I did in this thread), one had better follow it up with a compelling tale. Here’s my effort to put it into words.
BACKGROUND (Not necessary to the full story):
In my teenage years, I probably had a larger than average interest in the occult, philosophy, religion, arcana, and other assorted things geeky kids get into before they try drugs and get laid. I contribute no small amount of it as reaction to a strict Catholic upbringing, including parochial school. At the time this dream occured, I was 24 and pretty well adjusted and absolutely past most of these diversions, save a lingering scholarly interest, but nothing more. Pretty much a confirmed agnostic, religion hasn’t played a role in my life since I was 18.
I was attending Penn State, staying in a West Hall dorm room I shared with my roommate Robin, when I drempt the following. I had done no drugs harder than pot for 3 years and rarely drank, and took no medication whatsoever. I still don’t know what triggered it.
THE STORY:
I’m in the heartland of America. Kansas, or another flaaaaat state. I can see for miles all around me, it seems. There’s a major storm rolling in in front of me, black as a bruise, and the wind is whipping the tall grass I’m standing in, audible and unsettling.
There’s a white one-room church in front of me, in need of a fresh coat of paint. No parking lot, no driveway. It looks like it was abandoned years ago, if not for being only slightly run down. The white contrasts vividly with the storm clouds behind it. There’s no visible denomination besides the cross at the top of the steeple, and no signs.
I walk into the church. Its one large room with traditional wooden pews. Stained glass windows - just blocks of color, no religious symbolism - line both walls. There is a cross at the front, but not a Crucifix, which is odd considering I was raised Catholic.
The back-left hand corner of the church is completely different from the rest of the room. It’s been walled off with painted concrete blocks. There are large observational windows in these walls, and I can see men in white lab coats attending to banks of computer panels, whirring tape, making notes on clipboards.
One technician looks out, sees me, and nods. I nod back, and move to the beginning of the aisle. I stand dead center, spread my legs slightly like I’m trying to brace myself, tilt my head downwards, close my eyes…
DISCLAIMER, AND AN APOLOGY
OK. No matter how cheesy this is going to come out after all this buildup, I have to stress something.
What I’m going to attempt to describe was the most fucking intense feeling I have ever felt - awake or dreaming - in my entire life.
In no situation or dream have I ever been swept away like this. No feeling of love, terror, or panic I had experienced up until this moment held a candle. I know I won’t be able to describe it in every nuance to convey this, so I just wanted to make it clear at the outset - this was the defining moment of hopelessness and fear in my life.
As I tilted my head down, I felt what I imagine was my third eye open. I felt the center of my forehead opening, expanding, and something was starting to pass into my brain.
There were no visuals now, only black, and this increasing rush of pressure, of presence - I realized it was a presense in some sense - flowing into my skull and seemingly into my mind. It kept coming, and growing, and expanding, and rushing faster until it felt like a hurricane force. I was conducting something, I was channelling it.
Except as it grew stronger, I suddenly knew it wasn’t an it at all - it was Pure Evil, capitals definately warranted. Not a threat, not a spirit or ghoul or wee beastie or Satan. It wasn’t the Great Old Ones or the cold light of a million billion stars. It was the antithesis, the opposite side of the coin of everything that humanity knows. I would have run crying into the arms of pitching, yawning, gibbering insanity if I was given a choice. I would call it alien, except that the foundation of our reality existed as a counterballance to this.
It was quiet, sane, rational, calculating, compelling, complete and utter Pure Evil. It wasn’t a theory, or a philosophy, or a personification or a symbol or a school of thought. If anything, it was a mathmatical equation - unarguable, proven, rock solid, a foundation, a cornerstone. It was perfect, and it was nihlist, and it would negate me entirely.
It was beyond a head trip, a mind fuck, and far, far beyond anything I knew that I had within me to imagine. As one would be in fear for their life as they drown miles from shore, I was in fear for my immortal soul, and that is something that I had never felt before. And it was rushing through my skull at a thousand miles and hour, and wasn’t going to stop…
I screamed and woke up. I couldn’t open my eyes. I could still hear rushing noises. I could not go back to that experience, and I knew I would if I couldn’t wake up fully. I couldn’t move my arms. I wimpered and tried to fling my sleeping body back and forth. I managed to rock back and forth until I got enough momentum to roll out of bed. I crawled on the ground over to Robin’s bed, convinced if I could wake her up she could help me…
And then I woke up. I was still in my bed. I couldn’t move. I was dreaming the last few minutes of getting out of bed. I forced my hands to my eyes and pried them open, and fell to my knees out of bed with the intent of waking up Robin…
And then I woke up. I’m starting to panic, very badly.
I go through the scenario again. And yet again.
I falsely awoke 5 times in total before I finally did wake up for real. I slapped my face, pinched myself about twenty times, and grabbed my smokes and my jacket. I went out into the hall, still convinced that I was asleep. I was looking everywhere for creeping blackness, for surreal images, anything.
I sat on the front steps of West Hall smoking until the sun came up.
