A HALLOWEEN STORY

I sat alone in the balcony of an ancient, Gothic theater. It was dark but for the sliver of light that peeked out from under the heavy velvet curtains. An ominous hush hung in the air as the curtains parted. A woman entered from the left wing and strode rapidly across the stage. Her eyes expressed a terror that no actor could have conjured. The emotion she exuded was the deep, trembling panic of one tormented by maddening fear. The scene moved in slow motion, as if she were slogging through molasses and making little headway. Her long, dark hair flowed out behind her. The sinister presence in pursuit of her, though not visible to the audience, seemed to be closing in, as she frequently turned her doleful countenance in backward glances as she ran.

All at once she turned toward the audience and bolted right off the stage. She did not go down into the orchestra level, but took long strides upward, walking on air... up, up toward the balcony. As she drew closer to me, I saw that the terror in her eyes had turned to ghoulish malice, and I became paralyzed with fright. So completely and literally paralyzed was I, that as I attempted to turn and climb over the seat to make an escape, I discovered that I was unable to move. Time stood still. Then from out of the shadows a large bat came screeching down from high in the rafters and landed in the woman's long hair, driving her into a frenzy.

At that moment of heart-pounding panic, I awoke from the nightmare in a chilling sweat.

This is an actual dream I had at the age of thirteen. I have always remembered it because it was so insanely terrifying. The scene, horrific as It was, was not the most memorable part. The emotion that accompanied the dream, the unbridled feeling of terror, was what stayed with me. It was a terror so compelling that the bottoms of my feet tingled for several minutes after I awoke.

Now I will take you into the realm of reality. This is the real world in 1984. I am wide awake in the middle of a sunlit day.

I enter the arched Gothic style doorway of Flowers Hall on the Huntingdon College campus in Montgomery, Alabama. Len is with me, and we are attending a piano recital where our son will be performing. We are ushered upstairs into the balcony. We find our seats, and I begin to look around. Below us is the stage covered with a heavy velvet curtain. The orchestra section sits empty. Other people are filtering in and getting seated. Suddenly the scene seems eerily familiar. I stare up into the shadowy beams of the arched ceiling and experience a tingling sensation that the whole setting is, indeed, unnervingly familiar! All the old feelings of dread are returning to me. This is the same balcony that was in my dream some 27 years ago! The stage is the same, the curtains are the same, the seats are the same, the arch in the ceiling is the same. Then I hear a muffled swooshing sound and I look up. What is that...Up there on one of the rafters? A bat? Yes, a bat just like before! It swoops down, down, down into the unsuspecting audience and lands in the hair of a woman seated several rows in front of us. She screams and flails at the bat. An usher appears, but the bat has escaped. Somewhere in the dark reaches of Flowers Hall, it lurks.

And what was once a dream...a sinister dream from the twilight of long ago...has become a vivid reality.