In the Pockets of Dreams

My life was just fine--I had a job, my own condo, friends to share a beer with--fine. Who needed a purpose?

Then I bought that damned painting and my life filled with serial killers, frustrated lovers, orphans and itinerant peddlers trying to outrun the law.

Now, I'm dreaming the lives of other people; feeling their pain and wondering whether I'm crazy or some sort of psychic freak. A game I played with my grandfather has resurfaced in my life, maybe triggered by the dreams and suddenly nothi...