Sleep. He never got much of it. The hazy mist of the dreamworld offended whatever slumber he hoped to have on any given night.
On the morning of March 5th, 2009, Damien Roloson shot up from his sleep in a cold sweat gasping for air.
He coughed. Choked. Wiped his eyes, and felt as if he’d be submersed in a cold tank of water. The impressions left behind from his dream-state left a trail of goose-flesh down his arms and legs.
As the vision faded, a name remained: Kendra Kurtz.
He rushed to scribble the events down in the notebook, always keeping vigil at his bedside. He circled the girl’s name several time, and threw the book to the floor, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, desperately trying to calm his breathing down.
He sat, naked, in his bed staring at the blue patternless comforter, clearing his mind.
Then, in a snap decision he did what he said he’d never do. He picked up the phone and dialed The Project.
Dr. Stomb answered, “Hello?”
“Doc,”
“Damien? I’d hoped you…”
“What are you doing with Kendra?”