November 29, 2000: The dreams mysterious entanglement

Murder is like fire—I shake when either is brought to my attention. Both are growing storms—the gut receives a signal then suffers in the eyes of all things ignored. “Don’t go outside!” My scream was heard but undelivered in a way that she would understand. Yet, look where I stood! Two sides of the story—I would either become the victim or stare into the killer’s soul viewing his breathe in the mirror.