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do." The serial killer who seems to be suffering from megalomania paraphrases his life in one last
sentence to be compared to that of Jesus Christ's life. He compares how they both are executed by
a body of government.

Thinking of these two men now, the killer and the messiah, I can't help but remember the dream I
had with Satan on the airplane where he told me that the christ and the antichrist look similar in
appearance.

Is it possible that the man on the subway who gave me his shoes wasn't the christ, but actually the
antichrist? Is that why he told me he will be whoever I decide to call him? I quickly realize that
these ideas are trivial since these are all just dreams, but even the trivial things in life have a way of
making us tick.

Attempting to move on from the subject of murder and personal salvation, I find the dream where
I see a billboard of Maria, and how it is telling me that she is missing. I guess I must have forgotten
it when I woke up, but that page reminds me that I recently had a dream about Maria. It was maybe
a few weeks ago. In the dream Jesus told me that she had died and was eventually judged and
separated from this place. After I wake up from that dream I start to think about her, and I wonder
where she is. What are the chances that she is actually dead? Thinking of the people you are no
longer in contact with always bring along a fury of questions.

Is she married. Does she have children. Does she have a good job. Is she happy. Is she sad. Is she
still angry at me?

"One teacher killed." That comes out of the television in the living room and it grabs my attention.
I put the notebooks back in their order and I go see what this news piece is about this time. Today,
in a city school there was a shooting that has resulted in an unknown amount of deaths. All they
can really confirm is that one teacher had died on the way to the hospital.

What everyone is waiting for is to see if the shooting was motivated by anything drug related. If
the constant decline of the quality of this city hasn't been noticed yet, it will be noticed now as this
story is going to be reported nationally eventually.

Somewhere in the middle of the report there is a knocking at my door. It's Kathleen, who is asking
me if I can help her move some of Joe's things out of his apartment. I finally get to see what his
possessions are.

Along with her are her two nephews who seem to be about twenty five even. Kathleen opens the
door to his apartment, and for the first time, I walk in. I've glanced inside maybe two or three times,
but I had never had the front row seat.

After the four of us walk in, and after we've wiped off the confused looks on our faces, we quickly
realized that Joe had stopped living here. It was completely empty as if someone had just moved
out. Kathleen goes into the bedroom, the only thing there is a bed. In the bathroom there is a bar of
soap, a tooth brush but no tooth paste and a box of cotton swabs. Maybe Joe only slept and
showered here, and was living somewhere else most of the time. So much for me finding out what