I step onto the train and take a seat in an empty row. I take out a deck of cards and begin shuffling. Victoria used to shuffle cards whenever she was nervous. She said it kept her hands busy. She was an aspiring magician, always showing me tricks. Even with as far from her as I am, every time I learn a trick she taught me I feel closer to her. When I shuffle, the cards are the only things that matter. My world revolves around the thin pieces of cardboard. My hands move as Victoria’s did.
Sometime later I arrive at my destination, Central Park. I’ve been coming here every morning for the past eleven years. I sit down at my normal chess table and set up the game. I check my watch. Ten exactly. I make the first move, and the second one, then the third one and the fourth one. I play against myself every time and I always lose. I’m always white though, Amelia insisted.
A middle aged man wearing a suit walks up to me.
“I noticed you watching me seven minutes ago.”
“You always were an attentive one Mr. Daniels”
I remain focused on the game, thinking about my next move.
“How do you know my name?”
“We know a lot about you Mr. Daniels”
The man sat down across from me and moved his hand toward a piece. I look at him with hostility unlike any I’ve known yet.
“Don’t you dare.”
The man shrugs and settles for watching me.
“We know your wife and daughter passed away 8 years ago”
“What did you say?”
“As I recall they went down in a plane coming back from Paris to visit your wife’s parents.”
I stand up and slam the man onto the table.
“How do you know that!”
“We have been watching you Mr. Daniels. We think you may be perfect for an experiment”
I loosen my grip slightly. Then after some contemplation I let go completely.
“Bugger off.”
I begin picking up pieces to reset the board.
“How would you like to see your wife and daughter again?”
I freeze.
“What are you talking about?”
“My company can induce vivid dreams that feel as though they’re real based off of the dreamer's subconscious.”
“...Who are you?”
“You can call me John Doe.”
“Why me?”
“I am not allowed to give out that information.”
“What would I need to do?”
“Just show up at this address and we’ll take care of the rest.
He hands me a piece of paper with numbers and letters quickly scrawled across it.
“I’ll see you tomorrow Mr. Daniels.”
The man got up and walked into the distance melting into the horizon. I take the train back to my apartment and drink myself into oblivion.

At 8:32 A.M the engines blow up causing us to tailspin and free fall towards Neptune's open embrace. At 8:33 A.M we hit the water and I wake up. I don’t remember anything of last night. I had most likely blacked out drunk the moment my jacket hit the ground. I thought about John Doe and his proposal deciding that he wasn’t worth interrupting my daily routine. And then I saw the postcard. I don’t remember how I got to that address but I did get there.
In a matter of minutes they are strapping me into a chair and attaching wires to me. When they finish John Doe comes out and speaks to me.
“We are testing the limits of dreams today. We are attempting to layer dreams or in other words, have dreams inside of dreams. We are also seeing how long it takes people to notice that they are dreaming. We will be observing you”
He leaves the room and a young woman wearing a lab coat and a surgical mask enters holding a syringe.
“If you hold still for just a second we can begin.”
The woman punctures my arm and pushes down on the plunger. I begin feeling dizzy and lightheaded. Every muscle in my body relaxing without my permission. Then my vision blurs into darkness. As I drift off to sleep I think about the woman with the lab coat and the surgical mask and the syringe. She looked at me as if she knew me and expected me to show up. Almost as if she knew something I didn’t or couldn’t know.

I wake up at a cafe in Paris. I’m studying abroad in France. I’m sitting at a small table by myself. Even though I just arrived here yesterday I feel as if I have seen this cafe before. It feels too perfect, almost picturesque. The sunlight seems to drape itself over the cafe. The entire building is exquisite. A small brick building with some windows and a patio. That’s all it was. But it felt like it was so much more, as if it meant something important to someone or some people.
I feel the flask moving around my jacket pocket. I like my coffee with a bit of whiskey in it. It makes it easier to get through the day.
A beautiful young waitress walks to my table and asks me what I’d like to order in a heavy french accent that seems both elegant and intelligent. I gaze at her name tag. Victoria. The name seems familiar like I’ve known it in a far away dream long ago. Her blonde shoulder length hair  is thin and straight like thread or the strings of a golden harp. Her green eyes remind me of the vanishing and appearing horizon, of things past and things to come.
I completely forget what I was going to order, getting lost in her. It feels like there was something unique about her as if I would never meet another person anything like her. She is absolutely breathtaking. It feels as if all time has stopped.
I ask her if she’d like to get dinner sometime. We spend the night laughing and dancing and just living. It feels like I’ve known Victoria all my life, as if I knew her before I met her. I walk her home and she gives me a single kiss goodnight and walks inside. After that there are many more dinners and many more dances. Two years later there was an engagement.
Victoria and I move in together. We live in a beautiful apartment by the river, walking distance from the cafe where we met. Victoria and I are in love. Today Victoria told me that she thinks that she should meet my mother and father. We begin saving money up to pay for travel expenses. A few months later we have two round trip plane tickets to America. 
Victoria and I take a flight to the U.S. We’re going so Victoria could meet my parents. The plain ride is comfortable enough, single serving peanuts, complimentary beverages, etc. Unfortunately my parents live in a small town so we have to take a train or two to get there. We’re standing on the platform waiting for the train to arrive when a man falls onto the tracks. 60 seconds. I yell for him to get off the tracks. 45 seconds. He doesn’t move. 30 seconds. I drop onto the tracks and lift him up. 15 seconds. I throw him on to the platform. 0 seconds. The train hits me at 112 miles per hour.

I wake up at a bar in a casino. This brunette has been talking at me for almost ten minutes now and I couldn’t care less about what she has to say. Some story about how her and her girlfriend’s went crazy one weekend. It finally became intolerable.
“I’m sorry but I can no longer talk to you because even as Las Vegas is the city of bad decisions talking to you tonight has been my second worst one so far.”
As I walk away I hear her yell at me.
“Prick!”
I make my way towards a blackjack table with an attractive young dealer. I squint and I make out a name tag. Victoria. As I sit down at the table she shuffles.
“What’s your name stranger?”
“Asher. Asher Daniels.”
“That’s quite a name you’ve got there.”
She deals me a five and an ace.
“Hit”
I have twenty one. As I continue playing and earning more money I talk with Victoria.
“Why do you shuffle the cards so much? You don’t think I’m cheating do you?”
“Shuffling cards helps calm my nerves.”
“Why do you live in Las Vegas?”
“I want to be a magician one day.”
“Why a casino?”
“All the cards I could ever want.”
She says this as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world with a huge grin on her face.
“Are you single?”
“That depends on who’s asking.”
“What do you mean.”
“Am I being asked by a drunk floozy who won't remember my name tomorrow or a gentleman?”
“I am a perfect gentleman I’ll have you know.”
I say this with a smug grin, my voice full of c***y youth.
“Then I am single”
“Would you like to go out sometime?”
“How about you sober up and tomorrow if you still want to ask me that than I’ll go out with you”
“You’ve got yourself a deal Victoria.”
Close to an hour later I cash in my chips at the front. These little pieces of plastic took no more than 10 cents to make each. But all together they’re worth almost three thousand dollars.
Today was an okay night but I’ve done better. I leave the casino and enter the night, or morning. Casinos don’t have windows or clocks because they don't want people to know what time it is. They want you to gamble away as much cash as possible before leaving.
As I start walking back to my hotel I think about Victoria. She seems familiar in a way that I can’t describe. That blonde hair, those green eyes, that c***y smile. I’ve seen it somewhere before but I’m not sure where.  
I look to my left and realize that there’s a limo matching my speed. I think to myself. S***, s***, s***. Okay stay calm. Act like you don’t know what’s happening and lose him. I turn a corner and the limo follows. I know exactly who that is and I know that he’s not going to be very happy seeing me. I turn another corner and begin sprinting. The limo speeds up and stops a few feet in front of me. A tall man in a suit steps out of the back and runs after me.
It’s only a few seconds before the man catches up. He tackles me and I hit him as hard as I can while going down. I end up dislocating his jaw and breaking his nose. And I would have gotten away, had there not been two more guys.
The two men held me still while Don Famiglietti got out of the back of the limo. The third man was still laying on the ground writhing in pain. Don Famiglietti walked up to the man. The man grabbed his leg trying to pull himself up. Don Famiglietti took out a gun and shot him four times. Then he kicked the man's hand off of his leg. He turns to me.
“Look at what you made me do”
I look at him with the same smug resolve.
“Ruin a good pair of pants?”
He laughs.
“You always were a smartass. Put him in the back, we’re going to take a drive and talk about some things.”
Don Famiglietti got in the back of the limo while the men lead me to the door. I get in the back sitting across from Don Famiglietti. The car starts up and we begin driving.
“So, Asher, how have you been?”
“Just peachy.”
“That’s good.”
“You know, Don Famiglietti, I can get you your money.”
“I’ve trusted you thus far Asher and look where it’s gotten me.”
“I have your money.”
“I know you do. You’ve been hitting up the casinos quite a bit. Unfortunately you’re unreliable.”
“Please, Tony.”
“I love your company Asher, I really do. But I’m losing money on you. If it makes you feel better this is strictly a business decision. It’s nothing personal.”
This was the first worst decision I've made in Las Vegas. I knew that my actions would catch up to me eventually. I didn’t expect it to be so soon though. I had left my gun in my hotel room. Don Famiglietti spoke.
“We’re almost there.”
I thought about everything I had wanted to do before I died. I thought about everything I had done in my life. I thought about the date I would have had tomorrow. I thought about Victoria, with her golden hair and her green eyes and smug grin. I thought about the future we could have had. A wedding in a chapel, a house in the country, a daughter named Amelia. I thought about what it would be like to not be alive. To stop breathing.
I closed my eyes and pictured my future with Victoria. Country houses, and children, and for some reason a french cafe. As we approached my final resting place I thought good things and bad things. Terrible things and tremendous things.
“I’m sorry it had to turn out this way Asher. I really am.”
“I know Tony, I know.”
The car stopped and we both got out. We’re at the port. This is where the mob brings all of its problems. We start walking towards the end of the pier. I know this pier. I’ve taken a few problems to this pier myself. It’s odd being on the other side of the barrel. The wood creaked underneath my feet as we walked closer to the waves. The smell of the water in the air. The cold wind that’s just warmer than the barrel of the gun.
Getting shot is like a plane crash. You hear about it but you never think it’ll happen to you. If you’re the one pulling the trigger even more so. I went along with this not only because I couldn’t run, but because I have respect for the system. Don Famiglietti and I walked to the edge of the pier and he spoke.
“You have any last requests Ash?”
“Let me live?”
“You know I can’t do that Ash.”
“I know.”
I hear the c***ing of the gun and I said one last word.
“Victoria.”
And then my body hit the pier.

I wake up in my bed, in southern California, in the year 1842. I live in a small town called Plainsville. I’m the sheriff of this town but there’s never been anything more severe than a fight at the saloon. That being said I know my way around a revolver. I sit myself up and rub the sleep out of my eyes. Then I walk to my mirror and start to shave. I the cold metal against my dry skin. I dry shave not because I have to but because I think it’s a waste of water.
I take my duster of the rickety old wooden hook in the wall and put it on. Then I affix my holster to my side with my Colt 6 chamber fully loaded.
I begin making my way to the saloon. I like to start the day out with a drink. As I walk in I see many familiar faces that are happy to see me. I sit next to James Teach, a good friend of mine who loved his drink. Teach came here with his parents from Ireland when he was but a small boy. I ask the bartender for a drink and start talking with Teach.
“How have ye bin doin since I last saw ye Ash?”
“I’ve not been bad. There’s not much to complain about here.”
“Oy! I couldn’t agree more wit ye Ashy boy!”
“How have you been Teach?”
“I’ve bin quite well meself. I’ve got drink and good company and that’s all I’ll ever need.”
“How have the mines been treating you?”
“Now tat’s another story me friend. Most of tis ground has bin picked clean.”
“If your luck doesn’t change you might have to get a real job.”
“Hardy har, funny man. In case ye couldn’t tell I’m Irish. We’re the luckiest folks there are. And please indulge me in what ye do everyday, Mr. Sheriff.”
“I keep your lucky Irish ass from getting shot.”
“When you’re not a ta bottom of a bottle.”
“It’s a full time job.”
All of sudden four men barge into the saloon bearing shotguns. They spread out and start surveying the room. The bartender speaks up.
“Can I help you men?”
The one standing in the center speaks.
“You can give us all of your money. From now on this saloon pays taxes to us. And I think it’s safe to assume the consequences if you don’t.”
As he says don’t he c***s the shotgun. I stand up and make my way towards the man in the middle of the room. I get right up in his face.
“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.”
“And what the-”
In the middle of his sentence I pull out my six shooter, press it against his stomach, and pull the trigger twice. I turn to shoot the two on the left and I catch one in the head and the other in the shoulder. I turn to my right and make a hole in the fourth man’s trachea. I holster my weapon and make my way back to the bar when I feel an intense amount of pain in my lower abdomen. I fall to the ground and flip over to see the one I hit in the shoulder running out the door putting pressure on the wound. I look down a realize I’ve been shot. Teach gets up and yells.
“Get up ye bastards! We need to git him a doctor!”
Teach and the bartender put my arms around their shoulders for support and take me to the doctor. I start to become dizzy and I lose consciousness. I regain consciousness sometime later in bed in at the doctors. Victoria notices I’m awake and comes over.
“You’ve always been a trouble maker Ash.”
I smile.
“This time it’s not my fault.”
“I know.”
I little Amelia standing behind Victoria.
“Hey Amelia. You’ve gotten big!”
Amelia turns to her mother.
“Is he going to be alright mommy?”
“He’ll be just fine, now go play outside.”
Amelia walks out the door and it creaks closed. I turn to Victoria.
“I’m not going to be alright am I? You don’t have to lie to me Vic.”
“You’ll be fine, you just need some rest.”
I could tell by the look on her face that she was trying to hold in the loss she’s feeling for my eventual death.
“Vic, don’t lie to me. I want to know if I’m going to die.”
“It doesn’t look good…”
“That’s what I thought.”
“You could get better still though. You need to get some rest.”
“Okay.”
I said this and I started trying to go to sleep. I know that she was lying and I knew that if I went to sleep I wouldn’t wake up again but I listened anyway. As I’m drifting off to sleep I feel heavy like there’s a ton of lead on my body. And then I felt light like a feather mid flight.

I wake up on the steps of the empire state building. It’s 1965. I took 2 years off work, quit my job, in order to spend time writing my novel. It was finally finished, not a moment too soon as my funds were running low. I step into the building. I had given an editor a copy of my novel and I’d rewritten over and over and I was ready to talk to a publisher. I take the elevator to the forty third floor and wait to be summoned.
The receptionist looks up from her work at me and smiles with her big green eyes.
“Mr. Smith will be right with you.”
I look around her desk and notice small things. Her name tag, a picture of her daughter, folders and papers. I nervously tap my foot for close to five minutes before his assistant gets a call and turns to me.
“Mr. Smith will see you now.”
I take a deep breath and open the door.
“Mr. Daniels, please take a seat.”
I sit down across from him, separated by his polished oak desk. Everything arranged in a neat fashion.
“I wanted talk to you about your novel.”
“Yes, how did you like it? I was curious on your opinions of the ending.”
“We didn’t. In your novel’s current state we don’t see ourselves turning a profit. We’re sorry to tell you but we can’t publish your novel at the present time.
I freeze.
“What did you say?”
“I’m sorry, but we won’t be publishing your novel.”
“I have no money left.”
“There’s nothing I can do about that Mr. Daniels.”
I stand up with a blank look and walk out the door. His secretary looks up from her work.
“Have a good day Mr. Daniels.”
I just ignore her and step into the elevator. Rather than going to the first floor however I went to the top floor. I step out and I walk past the people attempting to work.
“Hello, can I help you?”
I ignore them. I don't care what they have to say, it doesn’t affect me. I keep walking until I get to a window. I silently open it up and climb out of it while people try to stop me. I’m standing on the ledge looking down. There is nothing left for me. I am alone and broke. This is my worst nightmare. Then I jump.

I wake up on the steps of the Empire State building. I shuffle deck of cards. It looks as if the cards are dancing around the deck but in reality they’re not moving an inch. I scan the crowd looking for my next victim. I see an old man wearing a watch that would look quite nice on my wrist. I walk up to him and grab him by the shoulder.
“Hello sir, would you like to see a magic trick?”
I already swiped his wallet from his coat pocket from when he turned around.
“Get your hands off of me.”
As he shoves me I get the wallet.
“There’s no need to be pushy.”
I didn’t even have to do an actual magic trick. I picked the guy while he was being a prick. I always felt even better about ripping someone off if they’re an asshole. I put on my brand new watch and make an announcement.
“Attention people! I am the next great magician. Which of you would like to see a magic trick? It's completely free of charge. I repeat free of charge.”
Like usual most of them ignore me. Too busy wearing their Bluetooths and pompous hair styles. However one woman stops to see a trick.
This woman is beautiful. She has long blonde hair that draped her shoulders. She has deep green eyes that would make the rolling hills of New Zealand envious. She has a wide smile with blood red lips that ended in points. Her pale skin, white as snow and just as flawless. Her face void of any visible imperfections.
“I’d like to see a trick.”
I don't know what it is that’s coming over me, but I know I can’t steal from her. It feels wrong, like destroying priceless art or burning books. It feels as if I’d be ruining something that’s sacred. So, I just show her a trick. I don’t take anything from her. I don’t swipe, snatch, sneak, steal, thieve, take, procure, or draw anything from her. We said our goodbye’s and she walks away. I’m dazed but not for long because I have work to do.
I walk to the nearest pawn shop. A good friend of mine James Teach owns the place. That Irish bastard screws everybody who comes in and out of that place except for one. Me. There are three possible reasons why Teach doesn’t mess with me. A, Because we’re friends. Unlikely. B, Because I’d mess him up. More likely. Or C, Because I’m too smart to buy his B.S. Most likely. The two of us we’re smart like that. I was too smart to fall for his lies, and he was too smart to try and lie to me.
“Hey James.”
“Hey Ashy boy! What have ye got fir me?”
“I’ve got a wallet, four cell phones, and a watch, but I’m keeping that for myself.”
“Ah! Ye can’t be a stingy bastard and still make enough money to git by.”
“I’m not stingy. I’m sentimental.”
“You’ve come to the wrong guy if you’re looking for sentiment.”
“I’m looking to sell some things that I’ve stolen off of people.”
“Than ye’ve come to the right place! For all of this I can probably get you… two fifty?”
“Sounds about right.”
“As always its a pleasure doin business wit ya. And make sure to come back tomorrow wit some more good tings!”
I take the cash and walk out the door. I look to my left and see the asshole I took the watch from. I decided to mess with him.
“Excuse me sir could you tell me the time.”
I wish that I could take a picture now to show people the look on the man’s face when he checked his empty wrist.
“Never mind I forgot I have a watch.”
And the look on his face when he put the pieces together. That is the fastest I have ever run.
I got back to my s***ty apartment in the Bronx and realize I need a hit. I go to my closet and grab a syringe. I always keep them next to the band-aids. I put it next to the rubber band on my coffee table. Then I grab a table spoon, a lighter, and “the goods.” I sit down on the couch and boil my toxin and fill the syringe this the liquid. I think about everything bad that happened today and try to make it evaporate, forget about it. None of that was important, for tomorrow is a new day, and with that comes a new night. 24 hours from now I will do the same thing and tell myself the same thing because that is what I have to do to keep myself going.
I tie the rubber band around my arm and inject myself with sweet release. A twinge of pain is well worth the satisfaction that comes afterward. I sink back into my couch feeling really tired. I feel weak like I’m fasted and exhausted. And then it’s hard to breathe like I’ve had the wind knocked out of me. My vision is blurring like I put on someone else's glasses. I feel trapped like I’m drowning. I try to make myself breathe, my conscious now babysitting my sub-conscious. It turns out that my sub-conscious is more of the rebellious kind.
On March 18th 2015 at 8:33 P.M I overdose on heroin.

I wake up in the lab sweating with a bunch of wires connected to me. The nurse who had strapped me in earlier came in still wearing the surgical mask.
“What the hell was that!”
“That was the experiment Mr. Daniels.”
She begins to remove the cords from me.
“How did you do that?”
“It wasn’t hard.”
Then I realize something peculiar. This nurse has green eyes and blonde hair. My eyes go wide. I speak slowly and quietly.
“Take of your mask…”
“What?”
“Take of your mask.”
“I’m sorry sir but I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I cannot tell you.”
I’m beginning to lose my patience.
I rip off the mask and realize what I’ve secretly known the entire time. And if she’s here than this must be a dream. I try to think and I don’t know how I got here. I can’t remember anything before yesterday morning and yet I knew everything about myself. This character I played. I stand up and the remainder of the wires rip out of me. I walk up to the one way glass while she tries to stop me. I tap on the glass and it shatters. I reach down and pick up a quite large shard of glass. The shard cuts my hand as it rubs against it.
“Mr. Daniels put the glass down.”
“This is just a dream. I die and I wake up.”
“Mr. Daniels this is not a dream. If you kill yourself you will not wake up you will be dead.”
“Explain how you’re here. You and Amelia died in the plane crash.”
“What plane crash? Mr. Daniels are you sure that it wasn’t just another dream.”
“Don’t you dare lie to me Victoria!”
“Sir, my name is Evelyn Baker. I have no idea who you are talking about but you need to calm down.”
“This is a dream. This is just a dream. If I die I wake up. If I die I wake up.”
I start repeating to myself manically.
“This is just a dream.”
“Mr. Daniels!”
And then I draw the shard against my throat.

I wake up in my bed at home. I am sweating profusely. I get up and I feel in my heart that this is reality. I get up and look around my apartment. It’s a lot nicer than in the dream, but all of the same things are there. The snow globe, the cards, the bar, the closet of syringes, and the postcard. But for some reason the postcard only had a picture of Victoria paper clipped to it. All of a sudden the door opens and a woman in her 20’s walks in.
“Hey dad!
I freeze. My eyes go wide.
“What did you say?”
“I said hi.”
“What did you call me?”
She looks more confused by the second.
“I called you dad. What else would I call you?”
I try to figure out what’s happening.
“Where’s your mother?”
“What?”
“Your mother, where is she?”
“Are you feeling alright dad?”
“I’m fine, where’s your mother?”
“She’s dead dad. Don’t you remember the plane crash?”
So the plane crash did happen.
“Amelia?”
“Yes?”
I hug he and weep into her shoulder.
“I thought you went on the flight with your mother.”
“I was too young to, remember?”
I am crying tears of joy when I realize something. I could still being dreaming. I stop.
“How old were you when the plane crash happened?”
“What?”
“I said how old were you when the plane crash happened?”
“Eight I think.”
I realized that anything I ask her wouldn’t prove it either way. I go into the kitchen and grab a butcher knife and grip it with both hands facing my chest.
“Dad what are you doing!?”
“It’s okay honey, I’m just dreaming.”
“No you are not!”
“Honey you wouldn’t understand but I need to get back to reality.”
Her scream pierces my ears as the knife pierces my stomach.