Rough night. I knew the nightmares would start at some point. I didn't think it would be this soon, but I have no control over my subconscious. I had a dream I was locked on to this conveyor belt and all I could move was my head. There were mirrors everywhere. In front of me on the conveyor were my friends Todd Cameron Willingham, Robert Shields, Jonathan Moore, Troy Kunkle, Jason Busby, Richard Cartwright, Reggie Blanton, Kevin Watts and Patrick Knight. All friends, all executed.... After them on the conveyor, I saw Lee Taylor, Lawrence Brewer, Mark Stroman, and then me.
The conveyor would stop and a mechanical arm would come out of a hole in the ceiling, a glistening needle pointing at its tip, and it would drill into the next man's neck.
Some kind of a piston would push the body off of the conveyor, a speaker would say "NEXT!" and the process would start over and over, until I could feel the needle pierce my neck, I could actually feel my body burning, and then- blackness.
I was dead but still dreaming. The second time I could remember that ever happening to me. I woke up drenched. I felt as if the darkness in my cell was closing in all around me, crushing my heart. My throat was burning. I had to fight the panic in order to make it to the toilet in time to vomit. I couldn't stop heaving until well after I was empty.. but it wasn't over. I couldn't draw a breath. I tried to huddle on the floor, outside of the cameras view so that they wouldn't see me broken and I fought off a panic attack that lasted longer than any one I've ever had. I can still kind of feel it a little bit.
It's morning now. I have no idea how long I was on the floor.. I have no clocks, no calendar.. My hands are trembling. When I got up, I went to the door to see if there was anyone awake.. Nope. No one to talk to, nowhere to turn to for any kind of comfort. I thought how bad I wished that I could call my mom.. or a friend. or anyone.. but I was utterly alone. That's how I've spent the last decade and that's how I'll spend the rest of my life, it seems... but I'm up now. and I can breathe.
I keep thinking, 'How the fuck do I fight this?? How do I win??'
I can't even imagine what Lee is going through right now. My heart really goes out to Jen, his wife. I know she's strong as fuck, but this has to be killing her. Stay strong, lady. I don't don't know Jen that well but I do know she's really good people and she doesn't deserve what she's going through at all. None of you who support and love us do. It's amazing to see how you all open yourselves to us, knowing what kind of pain it will cause in the end... and Jen, I really hate to say this, but your boy Tiny is coming back as a grasshopper. I'd bet my appeal on it. ;-)
I have to get ready for rec but thanks for being there and thanks for listening.
Keep your heads up..
Solidarity,
Steven Woods #999447
Polunsky Unit
3872 FM 350 South
Livingston, Texas 77351
USA
The conveyor would stop and a mechanical arm would come out of a hole in the ceiling, a glistening needle pointing at its tip, and it would drill into the next man's neck.
Some kind of a piston would push the body off of the conveyor, a speaker would say "NEXT!" and the process would start over and over, until I could feel the needle pierce my neck, I could actually feel my body burning, and then- blackness.
I was dead but still dreaming. The second time I could remember that ever happening to me. I woke up drenched. I felt as if the darkness in my cell was closing in all around me, crushing my heart. My throat was burning. I had to fight the panic in order to make it to the toilet in time to vomit. I couldn't stop heaving until well after I was empty.. but it wasn't over. I couldn't draw a breath. I tried to huddle on the floor, outside of the cameras view so that they wouldn't see me broken and I fought off a panic attack that lasted longer than any one I've ever had. I can still kind of feel it a little bit.
It's morning now. I have no idea how long I was on the floor.. I have no clocks, no calendar.. My hands are trembling. When I got up, I went to the door to see if there was anyone awake.. Nope. No one to talk to, nowhere to turn to for any kind of comfort. I thought how bad I wished that I could call my mom.. or a friend. or anyone.. but I was utterly alone. That's how I've spent the last decade and that's how I'll spend the rest of my life, it seems... but I'm up now. and I can breathe.
I keep thinking, 'How the fuck do I fight this?? How do I win??'
I can't even imagine what Lee is going through right now. My heart really goes out to Jen, his wife. I know she's strong as fuck, but this has to be killing her. Stay strong, lady. I don't don't know Jen that well but I do know she's really good people and she doesn't deserve what she's going through at all. None of you who support and love us do. It's amazing to see how you all open yourselves to us, knowing what kind of pain it will cause in the end... and Jen, I really hate to say this, but your boy Tiny is coming back as a grasshopper. I'd bet my appeal on it. ;-)
I have to get ready for rec but thanks for being there and thanks for listening.
Keep your heads up..
Solidarity,
Steven Woods #999447
Polunsky Unit
3872 FM 350 South
Livingston, Texas 77351
USA
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