It was a dark and stormy night

From the time he was a very small boy he had a recurring dream. More familiar each time, he finds himself in a residential area in unknown city. He is confused because he is alone, walking on a sidewalk on a street lined with hovering and somehow big menacing houses, late at night, catching glimpses of the moon as scudding clouds cross the night sky. Fog billows and condenses around street lamps glowing dim then bright in wafts of mist. He’s not allowed to be out at after dark and he is certainly not permitted to be wandering unfamiliar city streets alone. He is very frightened but continues walking. He notices a twisted, wickedly speared wrought iron fence next to the sidewalk, looks up and sees a square multi-storied brick house fronted with many darkened windows, a column lined vestibule centered between them. Trees are creaking and groaning in the breeze. Gazing at the house his feelings of foreboding escalate to terror. He knows something bad is about to happen. Something really, really awful. He wakens screaming, soaked with sweat, gasping for breath, in his own bed, in his own bedroom in the little farming community where his family live, far removed from even a town, let alone a city.

The dream eventually stopped, the boy grew into a man, he went away to college then moved to Louisville KY for officer training in the Air Force. One particular evening he walked to a nearby tavern for libation. He stood at the bar, this tall and handsome man, clean cut, in peak physical condition, with a ready smile. He chatted up the two women bartenders behind the counter. They were both his type he thought to himself: blond, short and petite. They must have thought he was just their type too as they invited him to return after hours at which time he could pick the one he wanted. Hey, these were loose times. He was young and randy and far from the moral influences of home.

He returned to his rooms then later headed back to the tavern at the appointed hour. He is walking alone, down a sidewalk on a street lined with big houses, late at night, catching glimpses of the moon as scudding clouds cross the night sky. Fog billows and condenses around street lamps glowing dim then bright in wafts of mist. He notices a twisted, wickedly speared wrought iron fence next to the sidewalk, looks up and sees an oh so familiar square multi-storied brick house fronted with many darkened windows, a column lined vestibule centered between them. Trees are creaking and groaning in the breeze. Gazing at the house his feelings of foreboding escalate to terror. He knows something bad is about to happen. Something really, really awful.

He makes an abrupt turn and returns to his rooms.