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January 26, 2003
Nat Turner invaded my dreams last night and scared the hell out of me. His hair was some type of shifting moving nest of snakes like a hydra's and his eyes flashed lightening. He didn't so much look at me as through me. I don't even think I registered enough in his awareness to warrant disapproval. Nat has always frightened me, unlike many I've known who thrilled to his story. We stood together on a barren landscape, fires burning all around us. Nat noticed me at the same instant I noticed the bullwhip in his hand. I shook myself awake.