2002-04-16 / 12:04 p.m.

(to cast a stone in the water....)

I am in either a high school or a business complex – it’s hard to tell. All that I know is that I’m in the past. Really in the past, meaning I’ve come back from the future to this past and I know how everything will turn out and I’m debating whether to alter the course of this personal history. There is this man – I don’t know him really, but I know he is going to kill this girl. I know when he is going to do it and how and I’m trying to decide if it’s my moral responsibility to try and stop this act of murder. Or, if I do so will I be guilty of changing so much more?

Suddenly I realize that I am the girl he is going to kill. I know exactly when it’s going to happen. I know exactly how. I think about telling GB but I know the news will tear him apart and I know there is nothing I can do about it…so instead of telling him I decide to leave him something. Suddenly I am in a room filled with flowers and gifts – there is a wedding reception scheduled to take place here later. I walk among the tables filled with food and flowers. The air is overwhelmingly sweet – perfumed with gardenias and lilies and white, powdery cookies. I am eating handfuls of cookies. After all, I’m going to die so live it up right? On one of the tables I find a rock. A large round smooth river stone – perhaps three inches in diameter and an inch-and-a-half thick. A green and pink flower has been painted on its surface. Using a green marker I write next to the flower: “I will always love you – more than you’ll ever know”.

I find someone in the room that I know and ask her to give the rock to GB after I’m gone.

Suddenly he appears in the room and I’m torn. Should I tell him myself?

I choose not too.

Later, If find myself running through a hallway. I don’t know why I’m running. It won’t change anything.

And then I am shot. Twice.

I don't know where the bullet comes from, but I know it is from Him.

I watch myself.

My body is laying on the cold, hard floor.

Someone from the band Pearl Jam (or is it Nirvana?) is crouching over my body. He is trying to save me. He is holding my face, my hands. But my skin is already cold and damp.

I try to tell him it’s OK.

But he can’t hear me.

last night ... tonight