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The planned trip to Haven Island to interview the famous ashtray artist became obsessive for me. I packed a bag for overnight, called my parents, told them where my traveling would take me, and informed Kade that I would be leaving in the morning, driving my Prius northeast. Thereafter, I obtained a good night’s sleep, dreaming alone in my queen-sized bed.
That night, I dreamed of demons, snakes in high grass, bombs flying into skyscrapers, rapes in back alleys, and necks being sliced open with sharp knives while visiting London. A string of nightmares followed me to bed and took over my mind. I woke up every half hour, screaming and sweating. And then I fell asleep and dreamed again, experiencing yet another nightmare. My night became cyclical and unstoppable; somewhat like a recording that kept playing over and over.