The Dream Keeper

I'm not afraid of dying. Really, I'm not. I have very fragmented memories of my earlier years. Most of them revolve around the same stock images we all have of our childhoods, T.V. Shows and parents fighting, but nothing of any significance to anyone but me. So let's ignore that. I've been writing for around eight years now. Well, writing anything I'd be proud of, anyways. But the older my stuff is, the weirder it seems to me. I feel less and less like the person who wrote or drew these things in the first place, and I know why. It's because the person I was, then, is dead. Literally. The ideas and attitudes I used to have got swallowed by new ones as life went on. Things get pushed out of my head to make room for new things, which in turn get pushed out by something new. All of our dreams and thoughts and feelings come from wherever they come from and then either get turned into something - art, music, literature, our jobs or our actions - or dissipate....

K A N E decided he would finally look into what was going on with Dawn when a group of tenants in his apartment building had begun complaining to him. Then he was finally sure that it wasn’t just him. He wasn’t going crazy. Something was wrong with her, and somethin needed to be done . Dawn moved in the apartment across the hall from him. Kane was the Landlord, a friendly old man, Hospital Worker on the Graveyard Shift until he retired. He lived by himself in a little one-bedroom at the fourth floor of his apartment building. It was always a mess. The green futon in the corner was covered in clothes; since he didn’t have any heating in his room and only two, thin sheets, he covered them in his dirty laundry to conserve what little warmth was available. His Computer was covered in dust, since he’d selected cable over internet this month. Things bothered him, sure, but Dawn had begun to grate on his nerves even before the Hudsons complained. Late in the evening, when he had...