Game Date 08.13.2001

Haunted Dreams 2 and Eve's Journal

Journal Entry:

Well, the good doctor has suggested that I keep a journal to try to discover what is causing my dreams. Mayhap they are suppressed memories, mayhap they are random images triggered by current events. Either way, they may be the only way to discover who I really am. And maybe, once I know, I'll be able to sleep again.

Even if I can't track my dreams, I think that keeping this journal will be good for me. There are too many things that I've been keeping inside. I doubt that I will share anything other than the dreams with anyone, but if I do, there will be no confusion, no mis-spoken words.

Juan has gone, I almost wish that I could have gone with him. Just as he is, I'm a product of the Wardens. I came to them as a blank slate, an unformed lump of clay, and they have shaped me to their image. If the Grand Empire had found me first, would I still be who I am now? I would like to think so, but I doubt it.

Their world has become mine, and now it is falling apart. John is dead, Mariah is furious with me (and I doubt she will ever truly forgive me) and Juan left without letting me say goodbye. I could not bring myself to speak at John's memorial. Something keeps me from letting others see me cry, to show weakness. Did Mariah see and think that I did not care? She already thinks that I sent Juan away. Tom has left also.

Tom, I think of him and I am confused. He was my first friend, but he is more than a friend. Does he feel the same way? Was his search into my past an attempt to help me? Or was it a way to calm his own suspicions? Either way, does it really matter? He says that we are all "experiments" but he didn't say anything about creations. Can he truly accept someone who can say, in the words of Heinlein, "My mother was a test-tube, my father was a knife"? I didn't ask. I'm sure he can accept them as a friend, but I'm scared to find out if he can truly accept them (ME!!) as anything more.

The fog surrounded me.

The air was filled with the scent of rich earth and growing things.

I was moving, cautiously but quickly.

There was an explosion of sound next to me, a flurry of movement.

Perhaps a bird taking flight?

Startled, I cried out and gave my location away.

I cringed, knowing that I had failed.

Then I braced myself as my body exploded with pain.

The fog turned red as blood.

Was I the hunter or the prey?

Upon awakening I do not know. But I know I was being watched. I can not figure out by whom, but it was someone I desperately loved, desperately hated, and who I most desperately wanted to please.

There was more to the dream, I know there was. But even as I read over what I have written, it is gone. The words on this page might as well have been written by another hand. If this is only a matter of words on a page, how will this help me?