Inside the Mind of BTK

Meeting BTK: An Exclusive Interview 277
Casarona drained what was left in her glass. Her eyes looked nervous,
as though she was already regretting what was going to happen
the next morning when, thanks to her help, I would be allowed to
speak with Rader.
“Tell me about the dream,” I said, trying to get her to think about
something else.
She crinkled up the skin around her nose, which gave her a look
that conveyed both bewilderment and amusement. Several weeks earlier,
she’d briefly alluded to the dream, and now seemed like the perfect
time to have her tell me about it.
“So you wanna know how all this has affected me, right?” she
asked.
I nodded.
Casarona took a deep breath, then launched into a scene that had
played itself out inside her head one night as she lay tossing and turning
in her troubled sleep not too long ago. For some unknown reason,
she had traveled to Venice with Rader. They sat together at a rickety
little metal table on the edge of the Piazza San Marco. Out across the
massive public square loomed the gothic stone columns and delicate
arches of the Palazzo Ducale. Tourists milled about with shopping
bags and cameras. She felt uneasy sitting there with him like this. Even
as she was dreaming it, she could feel her skin crawling. It didn’t feel
right, and her eyes remained locked on him, much the way an animal,
such as a chipmunk or a squirrel, might watch a human offering it a
scrap of bread.
He knew she was nervous. He didn’t care. It was all part of the
game for him. She knew something bad was about to happen. It was
only a matter of time. And sure enough, after a few minutes, he did it.
He dropped his right arm down toward his waist and began fumbling
with his black leather belt that he intended to wrap around her throat.
In the dream, Casarona stood up and walked quickly out into the
massive open-air plaza. It would be safer out there among the tourists,
she believed. But Rader quickly followed her, and soon he was standing
behind her, gripping both ends of the belt with his hands. She
began to run, frantically searching for someone to protect her. But
wherever she went, he followed. She couldn’t shake him.
“I never told Dennis about that dream,” Casarona said, chewing on
a piece of ice. “I mean, I told him I had a dream about the two of us in
Venice, but I didn’t tell him about the belt part. It’s just too creepy....
Dennis is really into dreams, you know. He thinks it’s possible, if two