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impossible, because of course most of the stories we see or hear about end up with the criminal
getting caught. How many killers do we actually know personally? And if we do know one or
more, we are probably one ourselves. Probably not. But imagine you murder a random person in a
city you don't live in and there are no witnesses. Do you really think you would get caught?

The first mistake in committing a murder is killing someone you know in a place that you live
without any real plan.

Obsessive-compulsive disorder comes in many different forms and can be different depending on
the person. Every once in a while I get a dream like this and I become obsessed with it, constantly
trying to interpret what it may mean. Trying to understand what it is trying to tell me.

One time, a long time ago, I became obsessed with a dream where I kept taking out the trash but it
would keep filling itself up, so I would have to keep taking it out over and over again. Damn
garbage bags. Sometimes it even gets to the point where I am so obsessed that fiction becomes
reality. One face becomes two and the lie becomes true.

Composition 1, Part 3

Chapter 21:
DEEP SHADES

Two nights ago I had a nightmare about murdering a prostitute. Last night I had a nightmare about
a woman's foot being victim to flesh eating bacteria. The bacteria kept eating away at her leg and
then eventually the surgeons had to amputate it.

This damn foot, I can't get my mind off of it. What's so appealing about a foot? What's so appealing
about this specific foot? It's not even real, it's plastic. Man-made. I think what is really bothering
me is that if I had lost a foot of my own, I wouldn't know how to deal with it, but this woman has
actually lost hers and it doesn't even seem as if it has phased her.

After I wake up I start thinking, the surgeons in that dream remind me of a dream I had God knows
how long ago, where the surgeons say I was actually dead for a little under a minute. God probably
actually does know because that may have been part of the series of dreams where I was judged by
God, and maybe he sent me back.

There are people who claim that they remember a past life, a life before the life they have now.
How many people actually believe them is a different story.

Now there is a knock at my door, I can tell it's Lynne. I can tell because I can hear Sarah and David
talking loudly as if they were excited. Even though I can't see them, I know. I open the door and it's
the three of them looking up at me. All but one are smiling. Sarah begins to yell, asking me if I'm
ready to plant stuff. Lynne says they could use another hand. David, he just stands there.

The next thing I know I'm outside and Lynne is teaching me how to give life. Sarah was helping
also, but she was getting herself too dirty so her mother told her to go play with David. David who
is riding his bike around the parking lot proclaiming that flowers are for girls. The indirect insult