I was, in effect, Pontius Pilote, but not exactly. I was the leader of an army of the damned. I was the one ordering Christ to be killed.
I was evil. I could see my armies for as far as the eye could see. Men colored like blood, the skies were red, orange and yellow, like the fires of the nine hells. The men were wielding weapons waving them in the air, preparing for war.
As Christ was being killed, I
saw, I saw that he was the true King, he was then and always would be. I
saw that I was evil, I saw that I was doing exactly what I was supposed to be
doing, raising the army of the damned. Waging the war against good.
I now
knew that what I was doing was wrong, and yet I had to do it. It had been
written, I must kill Christ, I must wage this war, that I now no longer wanted
to lead. I felt tears of sorrow build, but I did as I must and ordered his
death, Christ’s death.
I took a bandage from his body, a bandage that had
his blood on it. I took my weapon, a
spear/staff weapon, cut my left palm, the blood began to flow. As quickly as the tears. I wrapped my hand in his bloodied bandage and Yelled
to my men (or would demons be a better term?)
"The blood of Christ flows through my veins and we can not be defeated!"
"I can feel the power!"
To my men it meant now it
flows there, (it mixed with mine from his bandage and my fresh wound) To me, it meant that he always had, I had just
now realized it and it was too late...
Some may recognize this dream. If you do, please do not call me by the name you knew me by. I do not want that name and this one to be 'united'.
I simply wanted to share a bit as to why I chose this name.
