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When I finished re-reading the entirety of Michael’s journal one more time, skipping over his sketches and work notes, a wave of narcolepsy swept over me. I dozed off and a ringing phone brought me to consciousness and out of a recurring dream. I was struggling to walk through a jungle, palm fronds and branches obscured my way. Somehow, even though I couldn’t see him, I knew in that peculiar state of dreams, that Michael was ahead of me on the jungle path. I was struggling to see him, to catch up with him, but I couldn’t. The more I struggled to break through, the denser the vegetation became. I must have slept for more than an hour because when I woke, the living room lamp had come on and the sky outside was dark. I struggled to sit up and reached for the phone, mumbling a hello.
"Ju
