December 16, 2001
He had that dream again. The one where he wakes up in a cold sweat feeling nauseous afterwards. In it he is standing in the kitchen holding a knife in his hand. He calls to his friend to enter the room, softly at first, but then with rising intensity. When his friend enters the room he turns on the light to find him standing there. Then in that wierd way that can only happen in dreams, he sees himself through his friends eyes as he slowly cuts his own throat, all the while with a sick grin on his face.