Preed does not belong to me. He is property of Don Bluth and Fox Productions. The story, however, does belong to me and is not to be used without my permission.

SOMETIMES, WHEN WE DREAM


LOG ENTRY NUMBER 2,504
TIME: 24:48:10
DATE: September 11, 3044


To Whom it May Concern:

Dreaming. This simple seven-letter, two syllable word inspires awe in me, and I am envious of those who are blessed with this gift. For some reason or another, fate decided that I was not worthy of this gift, and so I was made into an akrennian.

I long for this gift, this priceless treasure. If I had it, then perhaps I would not have made the mistakes I have made because then I would have dreamt of the negative sides of my decisions.

If I could dream, then perhaps I would still have my friends. Perhaps I would still have my precious Getbiel and, dare I hope it, I would possible have a family.

Perhaps I would have proven myself worthy of the gift had only I been given the chance, but I was denied this chance. Perhaps, in my next life, I will be given the chance to make up for my mistakes and replace the suffering I have caused for those close to me. I hope I can start, tonight, by returning that which I denied my beloved Getbiel: life.

Getbiel. My angel, my all, my other self. How dare I? How dare I? I ask again, how dare I? Why did money matter more to me than love? Why did justice matter more to me than love? Why did it matter to me that you were a criminal? Why wasn't my love powerful enough to overwhelm the calls for justice? Why didn't I change my mind when they came for you? Why didn't I hide you? Why did I simply turn away when they slaughtered you while you were restrained? Why was I such a coward? Why was I incapable of keeping your secret? How dare I?!

These questions, even as I write them, cycle again and again in my mind, shaming me more and more with each turn. Getbiel, precious Getbiel, if you can read this beyond death, I repent. I beg for your forgiveness although I know perfectly well that, as much as you loved and trusted me, there is nothing I can do to make up for what I have done. I pray the sacrifice of my own life will, if anything, at least begin to return what I robbed.

If only I could dream, if only my species wasn't so emotionally cold, then perhaps I would have been able to notice where I erred and pulled back before it was too late. I could have been with you, sweet Getlieb, and shared your dreams even though I myself could not experience them.

I know nothing of dreaming from my own experience; what I know comes from learning of others' experiences. In that way, I suppose I can be seen as a leech, a life form that thrives on the same level of scum on which I have lived my life.

I know that sometimes, when we dream, the dreamer can be inspired by things so beautiful it seems that no mortal could have possibly concieved them. You, Getlieb, seemed inspired by a dream. Only in a dream could one with such a heart in spite of her business, such incredible beauty of both the mind and physique.

Sometimes, when we dream, we can be transported to a wonder land so full of joy and happiness, we wish to never awake. Getlieb, I pray that you are now eternally blissful in such a wonder land, and that nothing in the cosmos could sway you. Only in such a place would you be truly fit, not in the stressful existance that is life. Only in such a place would you be fit, in the midst of the supernatural stuff from which you were created.

Sometimes, when we dream, we can see a solution to a problem seemingly insurmountable. Only a divine creature such as yourself, Getlieb, could be blessed with such a gift as dreaming, not the lowly monster that I am.

Sometimes, when we dream, we recall horrible memories of the past that haunt us. Even after horrible days, of which I wished nothing more than to be stuffed into the back of my mental closet for forever, you were there to inspire me with a happy dream you had the previous night.

Only a creature such as yourself could be blessed with this gift. I marvel that, in spite of my coldness, you stayed with me, and I cannot forgive myself for how I returned your gesture.

How dare I?

I hope that, in the afterlife, I can begin to repent for my crime and, mostly, begin to earn your forgiveness. It may take several lifetime, but I swear to you I will make up for what I have done.

Before me is a bottle containing a number of pills. I intend on taking as many of these as I can swallow at once. I deliberatly chose overdose over all other methods, because in my suffering before I am gone I hope I can get a head start on returning what I took from you. I have unplugged all forms of communication to me, and I have blockaded access to my location.

I must go now, sweet Getlieb.

Please forgive me, Getlieb. May you live a sweet, neverending dream.

--Preed

END LOG ENTRY
TIME: 1:30:23
DATE: September 12, 3044
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