memories

     I remember reading, many years ago, the works of Carl Jung, the noted psychologist.  I was fascinated by the many facets of the human mind as described in some of Carl Jung’s cases.  I recall one case in particular.  It involved a man suffering from dual personalities.  In his second personality he spoke with a foreign accent and was extremely outgoing and charming. 
This was a real contrast to his primary personality which was rather shy and boring.  I don’t remember what had caused the man’s problem, but I was awed that the brain could manufacture such a thing.

     Through the years I have been intrigued by psychology, philosophy, and other intricacies of the human mind.  In the Matrix movie one of the greatest questions of Philosophy is brought up:  What is reality?

     I think that is why some of my stories are a little bit odd.  The coming of dark and Twisted are examples.

      Besides psychology and philosophy there are other things that influence my imagination and have, or may be at some time, incorporated in my writings.

      At the age of seven while undergoing a tonsillectomy my heart stopped for three and a half minutes.  Sometime between the surgery and waking up in recovery I dreamed about riding on a bus.  On the ceiling of the bus were large, round lights. 
In this dream people were being sucked up into the light.  From the light people were calling out for me to help them, but I didn’t know what to do.

     Later, while recovering in the hospital my mom began bringing me comic books to keep me entertained.  That began my love of comic books and the super hero genre.

     I grew up watching Twilight Zone, Outer Limits, and Alfred Hitchcock.  During that time I had some pretty scary, and vivid dreams.  One dream was reoccurring.  In the dream I was in a second story hallway of an old house.  I was alone, near a window looking down. It was night and the corridor was dark. Over the next few years I had several dreams involving that same house.  At times I was in different locations in the house, but I was always alone.

     The dreams stopped after a time.  I halfway thought that I might come across that house one day but so far I haven’t. If one day I do find that house for real my next book might just be nonfiction.