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After the darkness of the night begins to lift, I hear arguing from my window in another apartment
building. It's a little after six a.m. and I can't tell if I had slept or not, the only thing I knew was that
I was awake now.

The arguing continues until one of them leaves and then there is finally silence. This is not the first
time and I'm certain it will not be the last.

The frustration of not being able to sleep properly, it prompts me to go outside for a walk in an
effort to tire myself. It has worked before. As soon as I hit the first sidewalk, that's when I hear it.
Real silence. No cars, no birds, no Sun. No people, no wind. Everything is still. I stand there and
admire the scene because I cannot believe it's past six a.m. and the world has not yet gone to work.
I must be dreaming.

On the walk, along the way, I think about the dream I had several months ago and how I'm still
convinced that the white shade was some kind of representation of God. Was God speaking to me?

There are some who will claim to hear the voice of God, or in other instances claim that God
interacted with them in some way. It seems to me like, considering the stories from the Old
Testament of the Bible, God use to speak to its creation time and time again, but as its creation
began to multiply it became very difficult to keep moderate social levels with every single human
being, so maybe he stopped trying. Maybe now he only speaks to the people who need to hear his
voice. The people that need to know he is still out there somewhere. Of course these sentences may
implicate that God is not all-powerful and that it is possible for him to give up.

Without the presence of a higher being or someone to hear our words and answer our questions,
life becomes a mystery, and because of this I believe it is possible that even the wisest person can
spend their entire life searching for something they will never find while the most foolish person
dwells in a lifetime of prosperity. Sooner or later we will all have to learn to fend for ourselves
when there is no one there to guide us. We will have to find our own way.

Somewhere in the pages of the composition notebooks there is a story of guidance. Dreams about a
society that is now, depending on which side of the line you stand on, completely run by a corrupt
government. In the same dreams I am part of a group of outsiders, and somewhere along the way
this group searches for a leader. Someone to guide them while they continue to evade the efforts of
such an evil civilization. A civilization that barely seems civil.

After such a long time of running, we all begin to see these "civilians" as monsters, and when you
come across any of them, it's better to run than to fight because they will certainly not welcome
your ideas and beliefs. That's the mistake that Gary made. He thought he could convince them that
they should be friends rather then enemies, and their reply was to imprison him simply because of
the way he looked. They could not understand our language. I mean they could, but
philosophically, our perceptions were not in tune. We may have spoken the same language, but we
were two entirely different species.

Because Gary had gone and got himself caught by the civilians, for Stephanie's sake, we had to get
him out, and where there is a plan, there has to be a person to mastermind it. As much as I didn't