Author's Note

This is the part of the story detailing a man's earthly trials. MANY, earthly trials. When will he see his world become different? Or, what if someday, he was at least able to see a world that already WAS different?

A Prelude

Sleep. Sleep can be a wonderful thing. Better than waking up, almost always better than what my day will hold, and, I am at rest, which is something I could use much more of. When I wind down to bed, I am full of anticipation of a night of peace. A night full of visions of a beautiful town, lush gardens and planters, and calm fun with my closest friends. Sleep. Such a magnificent thing, to be sure. Most of the time. Sometimes. More often than not, this is simply wishful thinking for me.

My town, is not beautiful. More often than not, the plants are dead or dying, or aren't there. My friends and I see each other maybe twice a week, if I'm lucky. And when we do, it usually revolves around rather large amounts of Jane and booze. Not that they are not great friends, hell they might be the only thing holding me together at this point. But my dreams, even my good ones, are spoiled the second I realize they are too good to be true. And then I awake, sometimes sweating, sometimes with a small drop of salt slowly working its way down my cheek. And sleep, isn't always composed of what I wish my life was like. That, indeed, is a rarity. Sleep itself, is a rarity for me, when many a time I lay in bed, and wait until my body becomes sore, then get to sleep whenever my brain simply shuts down. And, most of the time when I do sleep, my dreams are not beautiful, let's keep it at that for now.

I suppose some background is in order. I am Trevor Swan Almine. I'm 23 years of age, I live with my folks, I have four decently quirky canine companions, and I'll withhold where I live, believe me, I have reason to. Me, I'm lazy, pretty damn crude in general, and aside from the aforementioned sleep disorder, have an anxiety of my heart rate. No particular reason, I just hate hearing or feeling my heart beat, as I tend to worry about if it is going too fast. But, I digress. I do have positive qualities. I have been described as intelligent (sans my poor spelling), charismatic, dependable, and generally a really good guy.

Which, is all I ever really wanted to be. I don't mind if I'm never famous, or rich, or anything like that, albeit a bit more money would be nice. I'm getting sick of cupped ramen. No, I want to be an example. I hear of men and women who only look to themselves, who would sell their first born son for a hot fudge sunday. Men like Adolf Hitler, who destroy countless lives because he pretty much just doesn't like the idea of a certain group of people, not to mention his hunger for power. That's another thing I never understood, by the way. Unless you take it upon yourself to help those who are starving or dying, why is power so addictive? What's the appeal? I'm getting sidetracked. I want to be different than them, and I want to help other people be different than them. To teach men and women of any ethnicity, of any sexuality, to co-exist. Is that so wrong? Some people treat it as though it is. As though it is not only an impossible goal, but a downright stupid one.

I do what I can for folks. For fucks sake I got stabbed slightly above and to the right of my navel trying to get a speed freak off of an older lady. Wouldn't you think it the right thing to do to at least TRY and help? I should think so. It can't be wrong. And, here's the cherry on top. You know what my FORMER friend told after I healed as well as I was going to? You wanna know?

"Well, that's your fault for trying to be a hero."

You should have seen the look on his face after I fucked it up. This might sound a bit scary if nothing else, but it felt SO damned good to pound his ass into the pavement. Really, I saved her life, and he not only feels no pity for me getting shanked, but he's gonna put it on me like it was stupid and bad to try and help? Well, I won't put it past that it is pretty stupid, at least in that circumstance. It's never smart to try and take on a meth head, no matter the reason. But, an odd rule of life, sometimes the morally correct option isn't exactly the smartest. But he calls me a fool for saving her life because she wore nice clothes and some man needed his toxin. He isn't the only one who calls me a fool for trying to do right, not by far. Well, you know what, maybe I AM a fool. That won't change me. No, this example needs to be set. If mankind lives in fear of being generous and kind, civilization won't last a week. And the lady wasn't the only person I did such a thing for, not by far. I have helped many a fellow man at my own peril.

And perilous it is indeed. People who do good deeds tend to get on the wrong end of people who do evil deeds. And people who do evil deeds, in general, tend to be dangerous. I have lost many a friend to some that I have thwarted in the past. Friends who believed in me. Friends who actually shared my fools dream. Gone. Ash or worm food. And I'm still alive. Why? Why am I still alive? When can I see them again? Don't get me wrong, I would never take my own life. That is selfish. There is simply too much to do. This world needs me, and I intend on being here as long as I can to get as much done as possible. Still, I have to wonder. Is that way of thinking the reason I'm the one who made it? Damn. It's all so confusing. My head hurts whenever I try to wrap my mind around this dilemma.

So, here I lay, simply looking up at my ceiling, afraid of practically everything in existence, and thinking of what will come next. Will I have a good dream at least? Or will I dream of people who were just like me? People who make me sob every time they cross my mind. People whom I loved. THAT, is why good dreams are a luxury to me. I think of them while falling asleep, most of the time I think of them during my nightly (or daily) rest, and I see them when I wake. I cannot help but wonder. What if I succeeded? What if the world had only minor problems compared to it's current state? What if people got along? It must be possible. Anything is possible. I just have to make it happen.

Or, what if such a place already existed somewhere else? Could that be? I ponder this daily, and every time I come to the same conclusion. "Of course such a place exists somewhere, but will I ever see it?" A place where I can actually relax. A place that actually feels right, that feels like home. A place where I am free of my ghosts.

Wouldn't that be wonderful..........