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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Mon, Jan 26, 2015
Dear Kade, It's been 18 years today. Since we were born and since you died. It's been 8 years since Dad told me about you. I tell you this every time I write you, but I wish it would of been me. I never tell Dad this, but I do wish it. You would of been stronger than I am. But, off of this subject. I had a nightmare last night. In the nightmare, I was in perspective of this woman who was being tortured. I can't see the man's face because he has a black mask on. But he's doing horrible things to her. I could tell that the woman wasn't me, though. Her hands were different, along with her voice. I couldn't make any decisions. I was just seeing through her eyes. I woke up crying. I could physically feel her pain. It was horrible. I could never imagine something like that ever actually happening to someone. Alright, well. Dad needs me to help him gather fire wood. I love you, brother. -Koda
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FORMERLY V D' YAVOL. For as long as she can remember, Dream has been... dreaming. Very vividly. She saw how her childhood dog died two days before he actually did, so she had plenty of time to prepare herself-her words. She's been to plenty psychologists and sleep specialists, but they all say the same thing. Nothing to worry about. So, her parents gave it to God. And nothing happened. She's grown used to it by now. She sees a face, sometimes hears a name, and then whatever happens to that person. Murder, the lottery, a death in the family, etc. You name it, she's seen it. She pays the dreams no mind because she can't control or stop any of them all the time. It's out of her hands. But on one holy night, she sees a man. Limping. Crying. Bloody. Yet this time, she can't see a face.

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