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Friday the 20th - 10:17 p.m.

I dreamt of her again last night.

I watched it all happen again inside my mind. It appears to be the only thing that's on. It's just like every time Cinemax airs Armed and Dangerous. It's bad, it happens all the time, and I can't escape it.

This dream is coming more frequently now. Soon it'll happen every night, and then every time I close my eyes.

It's always the same dream too. I watch her get on the elevator; she yawns, and I imagine that if she had gotten a better night's sleep the night before she wouldn't be so tired. I always watch her get on the elevator, but I never see her enter the building.

The older woman working the elevator asks her which floor. She politely asks to go up to the roof. The older woman working the elevator apologizes, telling her that the elevator doesn't go up that high; it only goes to the thirteenth floor.

She pauses and then asks for thirteen.

The doors close. She stands in the back of elevator and yawns again. Maybe it isn't fatigue; maybe she's just bored. The elevator moves, her soft brown hair falls into her face. She brushes it back with her right hand. There are others on the elevator; they're just shadows though, I can't make out their faces. No one talks.

She's wearing a blue cotton lace blouse; a green and black print skirt set against an orchid background, and low heeled red shoes. Her coat hangs over her left arm. She opens her pocketbook and checks its contents, carefully studying its inventory. It's something to do. She is bored.

The elevator comes to a stop. The doors open. The older woman working the elevator looks up at her. She walks out into the hallway and glances to her left, and then to her right.

Her soft brown hair sways back and forth. The doors begin to close as she walks to the right, passing a man dressed in a white buttoned-up shirt and dark tie. He looks directly at her as they pass. Their eyes meet for an instant.

The doors close. And then my eyes open. Every time.

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