I didn't know whether I screamed but I was shivering when I woke up. Th rain was already taking its course &my nightmare found its way to me. Everything was beautifully planned; like in a movie scene, with th slight whisper of thunder while I played back what happened in my subconscious; onlythat this was real. Th image of th guy jumping off th ledge &th screams were vivid. Th blood, th police, his dreams, his worries, all came crashing down, tgth with his soul. He thought this was th end. But it wasn't. I couldn't return to my sleep just thinking about why his fears had started to reach out to mine. What was I afraid of? Are these th kinda things Ummu's been mentioning when all I used to tell her is, "C'mon, you can think of happier moments! Try!" I used to want her to describe to me evth, but th only help was to her peace of mind, &now, to mine. Th only way of trying is when we're believing. But in our stories, believing might be th hardest thing to do. Anw, when he decided to end his life his way, he stopped believing did he? &Because we're all still alive, we're somehow still believing are we?