INTRO/ NIGHTMARES

Two voices. They talk in a soft manner, like in a library on a quiet Saturday afternoon...

"Everytime I close my eyes; pictures still form, her voice repeats over and over, and I can feel her where ever I go."

"That's not uncommon, people who have loved ones that have died... they still have strong feelings."

"...and every night, the nightmares get worse, not better."

"You are having stronger feelings than a lot of other people do. These feelings are so strong that they just get worse instead of better."

"How do I get rid of them"

"You don't, they get rid of themselves over time. Do more of the activities that you enjoy, and spend more time with friends or at work. That will help."

"I want to forget, but yet I can't. She means so much to me..."

"You will never foget. No one does, we learn to cope with these feelings, and the bad ones that we have will soon go away. It just takes a lot of time, and something to do. Do you have any hobbies?"

"Nothing at this moment..."

"I'd advise you to find yourself a hobby, that will help you to lift away the feelings that you are having."

"Thank you."

"No, thank you, Jason. We will meet again next week, and if you are having any trouble feel free to contact me."

The two men, sitting in chairs, got up and shook hands. The one man, Jason Bourne, then left the dark room.

The noise of the city grew closer and closer as Bourne walked to the entrance of the building. He nodded at the secretary before exiting the building. Bourne then stood in the middle of the sidewalk, looking around at the Big Apple. Pedestrians walking around him in a trance form, not one of them stopped for anything, only Bourne interrupted the trance.

He then started to walk north to his apartment, a small, ranshack. It wasn't much, but it gave him a home.

Jason opened the front door of this pity of a place to live. The first thing he saw when he walked inside was a poster of a beautiful place on the beach. Goa, India.

How much Jason would love to go back to that paradise, but he couldn't, he shouldn't. There was nothing for him there anymore, and he was still waiting to meet with Pamela Landy to talk to her about his actual identity.

Jason slid his keys across the kitchen counter, and then took out one fourth of a carton of milk and chugged it. Drips of milk slid down his unshaved face. He then wiped his mouth and threw the carton back into the refrigerator.

You could tell just by looking at Jason's sags under his eyes that he just needed on good night of sleep, but it never came for him. Every night he tried, but had at least five nightmares in one night. All about the woman he had lost, the woman of his dreams, Marie Helena Kreutz.

It was hard on him, hard on his nerves, and hard on his mind. Jason was confused though, he didn't know if he was sad because he had lost Marie, or that he could have stopped her from dying. If he could have just had taken a more secluded road, she still could have been alive today.

Jason threw himself on his bed. He put his head on his pillow, and drifted off...

"Sir, could you take a picture of the two of us, please? Great! Thanks! Jason, get over here! I found someone to take our picture. Jason"

"Okay! I'm coming"

"It's about time! This man has been kind enough to take our picture and to wait for you."

"Are both of you ready"

"Yes."

"Yes."

"Say...goat."

"Goat."

"Goat."

"That was perfect, thank you very much, sir. So, Jason? Jason? Jas..."

Jason woke up sweating and panting. He then reached over to his side table and picked up a picture. It was a picture of Jason and Marie. The picture from Jason's dream.

Jason then threw the picture down and got up. He put on a coat, grabbed his keys from off the counter, and rushed out of the apartment.