Brian Lane - Mind Games with a Serial Killer

Anyway, I got out of prison and the dreams stopped! Or so I thought! While Bonnie and I were together, the dream hits me four times that I can definitely recall. After Bonnie and I break up the final time, I start having the dream about every other month. Not enough to be really worried about it. I got married to Cheryl and they stop again for several months. Then they start up again about the time she gets pregnant with Bridgette. They again occur about every couple of months or so. Then I get arrested and I’m in jail.

The dream stops for almost a year. Then it’s back with a vengeance. The dream hits me almost every night for two weeks. I talk to Mike Kania about it and I break down crying. I asked him if he thinks I’m going crazy. He replies, “Do You think you’re going crazy?” (I just hate it when someone answers a question with a question!) Right then, I decided not to tell him anymore when I had the dream. Anyway, in answer to that question, I’m not so stupid that I don’t know… If you can question your sanity, chances are you’re not insane. Ergo—I guess I’m sane enough to know that I’m not crazy, just because I’ve had the same dream, or a variation of the same dream, about a thousand times since I turned 17 years old. (‘67-’68)

After those wracking two weeks, the dream slacks off to the point that it only hits me once every five, six or seven months. The last time I had the dream was about two months ago. Until just awhile ago.

I awoke from the dream, a variation of it, shaking and sweating. I may have cried out, I don’t know. Nobody hollered for me to shut up, neither did a guard come running in here. Of course, there’s a few people in here that yell or scream every so often, I think just to keep in practice! It’s more or less taken for granted that someone is going to break down once in awhile.

Well, by now, I’ve probably piqued your interest. So what is the dream? Here is the main dream that I usually have.

She’s facing me, so I can see her from head to toe. She’s wearing a beautiful dress that comes down to mid-calf, below her knees, that is gently moving in a breeze. The dress is a light shade of green with a tint of blue throughout it. The top of the dress is just off her shoulders with short sleeves that puff out. It gathers tight, just below her breasts; not small or large—just right, in proportion to her size. I know that she’s five foot six, but I don’t know how I know this, because—I neither know her name or who she is. I cannot recall ever having seen her at any time in my life, outside of this recurring dream.

She’s by no means a “raving beauty.” Actually, she’s rather plain, but with proper touches of makeup, she could be called very pretty. At 5’6”, she looks to weigh about 90 pounds to 110 pounds, thin with curves in all the right places. She looks to be in her late twenties or early thirties, but I get the distinct impression that she’s about 10 years older than she looks. Her hair is blond, cut rather short in short bangs that sweep off to the right of her head. She has a part in her hair on the left side of her head and the back tapers to a point just below the base of her head at the back of her neck. Her hair is very fine, almost like baby hair, but it’s almost mannish in style.

Her face—clear and smooth in complexion, it looks like she’s never had a zit in her life. Her face is almost “V” shaped with a nearly sharp chin. A small mouth with thin lips. A thin, small, slightly upturned nose. Her eyes are the prettiest part of her face. Emerald green, with flecks of blue; wideset with a slight trace of an asian cast to her eyes, and long, thick eyelashes. Her eyebrows are thick as slightly arched above her eyes. Her ears are not covered by her hair and they are very delicate, set close to the sides of her head. Everything about her screams “Delicate— Do Not Bruise.”

She’s scared, the fright is plain in her eyes. Both hands are stretched out in front of her, pleading for help. I don’t know what’s wrong, but I know she’s in great peril. I know she’s asking me to help her, but I don’t know how I can do it.

I often wake up from this dream and I’ve been crying—not always, but often. I sometimes have the shakes like I’m cold, but I’m not because almost all the time I’ve been sweating.

The variation of the dream is worse. It’s the one I’ve often awakened with a scream in my ears, my throat and I don’t know if it’s me that screamed in reality or me in the dream or her or whatever it is that’s chasing us. In this variation, I’m holding her hand (my right in her left), we’re running, with me a step in front of her. It’s not like most dreams where when you’re running, it’s like you’re running through molasses. She and I are running at what seems like normal speed, I can feel the shock of my feet hitting the ground. And that’s a very strange sensation, because in reality, I can’t run! Between my left knee and ankle, ever since my motorcycle accident I’ve lost my balance and have fallen when I try to run. I can walk fast and take extra large strides when I’m in a hurry, but after a short distance I start limping badly. So it’s weird that I’m running in this variation of the dream.

I look over my shoulder at her, she glances over her shoulder at something . I can’t see anything behind her, but I realize that there is something very dangerous behind us. She turns her head back to me and I can see the fright is even more intense in her eyes. She doesn’t say anything, neither do I, but somehow the message is communicated to me that IT is getting closer. I say IT , but I know that sometimes it’s singular, sometimes it’s plural (more than one). All in the same dream.

One other strange fact about these dreams: Her age has never changed. Even back when the dreams first began, I remember she’s the same age now as she was then. And when I’ve dreamt of me in the dream with her, I was the same age. My age has never changed!

Now—can you explain these dreams to me? I certainly can’t come up with an explanation. Mike Kania didn’t have an explanation. The psychiatric friend in the Air Force said it probably doesn’t mean anything. But then I hadn’t had that many dreams (of this dream) back then. Only Tom Sheehan gave, or tried to give, any kind of explanation: that what was happening in the dream was something that was going to happen in my future. My question: How? It hasn’t happened yet. And I can’t run like it appears I’m running in the dream. So , what is my subconscious mind trying to tell me? Clearly another case of “I’m the savior trying to save someone.” A la Bonnie, Cheryl, Teryl, Cathy Sharp, Kristi, Bob Allen, Bobbie Hensley, etc, ad infinitum.

I’ve had other dreams. It’s not as if I’m having only this one dream and the variation of it. In fact, a lot of my ideas for stories come from my dreams: “Crash Landing”, “A Whisper From The Dark” and “The Archeologist”. All came from a nutshell of an idea I had in a dream. But “The Dream” or “The Girl”, it’s not the same as the other dreams I’ve had. So, what does it mean? The question remains mysterious.

Take Care and God Bless. Bill S

When Peasley and Driggs were assigned the Suff case, they were not happy campers. This was a case that would consume them for years, and the result was preordained: Bill Suff would be convicted, and he would receive the death penalty. The only suspense would be whether some other prisoner would slip a shiv into Bill’s gut and save everyone the time and trouble of trial.

Nonetheless, Peasley and Driggs are damn good defense lawyers, and they were determined to do more than just go through the motions filing motions that had no chance at success.