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a chance the person who is in pursuit of this murderer persona may lose sight of where the line is.

The separation between good and bad, and bad for the sake of good. Icarus flew too close to the
Sun and the consequences were less than desirable. There is no success if you become the very
idea you hunt, but that of course is relative.

I leave the store and when I get outside, I find that the bread I purchased has been smashed by the
milk. That damn baggar. I look back in the store and I notice that the baggar is gone. At this point
the dream starts to skip around as I remember it and then I find myself following someone.

The only thing I can think of is that chalk outline I had seen earlier before, and how a person could
murder another person. How someone could get away with it so easily, six times. I stare at the back
of the head of this man I am following and I start to wonder if I could kill him and get away with it.
I start to picture the murderer I have been looking for, I try to picture him as myself. What goes
through the mind of a murderer. Certainly thoughts plagued with narcissism. I would find it hard
for my serial murderer to not be some type of narcissist if he believes he can take the lives of
others.

Chances are every person on this Earth probably has some form of narcissism in them, big or
small, superficial or buried deep inside the mind. There must be a reason why people long ago
believed even the Sun revolved around the Earth. They must have thought they were important.

I stop walking and I watch as this man walks away from me. Further and further, until he is gone. I
can't kill this man; I have to find out why. I realize that if I want to catch this murderer, if I want to
understand the mind of a murderer, I need to start smaller. I need to find my murderer persona and
understand it. Maybe I need to kill something. Not a human of course, something smaller.

Maybe an ant, or a cat. A goat or an elephant. I swear to myself that I will never go as far as killing
a human being.

I woke up and couldn't help but think about how two people who learned to do something exactly
the same way could end up doing that trade so differently. Roll the dice. This dream leads me to
believe that nothing in life is pure good or pure evil. That everything is merely pure perception.

Now the Moon has taken the place of the Sun and there is a knocking at my door. It's Jamal, a man
I haven't seen in probably a little over half of a year. Years ago, Maria wanted me to see someone
about my obsession with my dreams, so I did, but it wasn't too long until I stopped going.

Maria realized that I didn't care, that I wasn't going to try, so she left. The man who I spoke to
asked me so many questions that instead of trying to analyze myself and trying to figure out what is
making me the way I am, I started to wonder about him himself. Why he has chosen this specific
field of work.

My interest in him only ravaged my obsession with my dreams and the many ideas about life that I
had taking up space in my head. Soon after I found myself visiting a group therapy session that
dealt with drug abuse. Not necessarily for the triumphant stories and the lack of self-acceptance