In Dutchess County, upper New York State, just past a small cemetery on Frog Hollow Road, stands a white two-story farmhouse. A little girl, about 11 years old, fearfully crouches in the corner of the downstairs family room. She knows if she screams, no one from the outside will hear and he will only come for her. Shaking and sweating, she urinates on the floor, as she watches Jesus Christ (or the man who she was taught to believe was Jesus Christ), standing over a disciple who also lives on "The Farm."
The disciple, whose name is Bob, is a thin man who stands over 6' ft tall, but he sits on the couch in the west side of the room looking upward at his prophet ranting at the top of his lungs. Chaos. Several other disciples are there on the outskirts of the room just watching.
One disciple is the little girl's mother who stands in the shadow of the staircase where the night before "Jesus" had punched her straight in the face knocking her off her feet, Blood ran from her eyes, now dried, her eyes already turning black from the violent impact.
There seems to be a haze of evil in the room, like being in the twilight zone. Jesus is yelling at the top of his lungs that Judas has betrayed him. His presence terrifying, though only a man of thin build, maybe 5' 10" with dark brown flowing hair to his shoulders. He looks like the pictures one sees depicting Christ but there is no Godliness or compassion emanating from this man - one only sees evil as terrifying as one could imagine a monster to be.
As Jesus holds an old metal and glass meat thermometer about 12" long, he suddenly raises it into the air above his head like a sword, looks down at Bob . . . and plunges the meat thermometer into Bob's forehead as he sits on the couch looking up at the man who professes to be his spiritual teacher. Blood begins pouring from his wound but somehow he remains conscious. Some disciples run out the side door of the farmhouse, while the little girl still crouching in the corner, is left alone in the house with the self-proclaimed prophet. She suddenly blacks out, falling into the puddle of urine on the dusty wooden floor.
When people with PTSD say they are having flashbacks, we are not referencing the LSD kind but of a traumatic scene like the above that uncontrollably replays like a horror movie. That is Scene #43 and no shortage of others. #PTSDAwareness #PTSDWarrior
