Tragic literature is generally divided into four types, depending on the scope of life covered by it.

There are the "classics" that focus on the struggles of the common people to overthrow the social and economic order.

This is the first type, which is a heroic tragedy. It tends to directly express the head-on conflicts between various political forces and different classes through major themes such as struggles of political figures, class revolutionary struggles and national liberation struggles.

The second type is family tragedy. The second type of family tragedy is a love story that expresses the complex ethical relationships between families and within families, as well as the intense conflicts and sorrowful love stories caused by different values of life and moral laws. From small to large, the family is used to express the tragedy of the whole society.

The third type of tragedy is the fate of the characters. Opposite to the small characters and leading to their tragic fate is the huge network of tangible and intangible people from all corners of society. This type of tragedy tends to focus on the interactions of the characters and their social milieu, rather than the conflicts between competing ideas or a clear protagonist.

The last kind is social tragedy, which expresses the contradictions and conflicts throughout human social life, expresses human beings' aspiration and pursuit of freedom and their desire for an ideal society, and seeks to understand, master and manage nature, science, society and human beings themselves.

The most important thing to remember about all four types of tragic literature is that they tend to be universal. They speak to the human condition, regardless of time, place or culture.

In addition to that, there are also the subgenres of tragic literature.

The first subgenre is "the gods are real." The gods of classical mythology tend to be the focus of these stories.

The second subgenre is "time is of the essence." There is an emphasis on the notion of time in these stories, which tend to either be linear, or take place in a single time frame.

The third subgenre is "magical realism." The characters are not always human, and the world the characters inhabit may be fantastic.

My own personal favorite subgenre is "the devil's road." These stories tend to focus on the dark and demonic.

Some good examples of this are Dante's Inferno, Milton's Paradise Lost, and the Book of the Dead.

Lin Xin stopped and looked at me and asked, "Li Mu, what tragic literature do you like?"

I didn't really know much about tragic literature, so I couldn't really say.

"I don't like tragic literature because those endings are too cruel. Yu Hua's Alive, for example, is too cruel."

"What's wrong with a bit of darkness?"

"Nothing, but the world is a cruel place, and writing that depicts it with any degree of accuracy should seek to subvert our expectations rather than reinforce them."

Lin Xin looked as though she had no idea what that meant.

"Have you read much Shakespeare?"

"No, I hardly ever read European tragic literature."

"You should read more."

"Why is that?"

"His plays are a great example of a magical realism. Well, I'll tell you that it's a very poetic and fitting way to end things."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, let's say you're a tragic hero, and you choose to end your own life. It would be kind of a fitting end if your last act was to save the world. That's the closest anything like that could ever come to a happy ending."

I shook my head and said, "No, I think the happiest thing is to live with the people you love so much, to live together in mediocrity and peace."

Lin Xin wiped the blackboard and said, "Is that what you want, Li Mu?"

I shrugged. What did it matter what I wanted?

"What do you think your ending will be like?"

"I don't know. I haven't written it yet." I put together my manuscript and said, "I intend to write the fate of a few characters in the first thirty chapters and the rule of a Leviathan state in the last forty."

"It's a little ambitious," Lin Xin said. "Maybe you should write a no-holds-barred crime novel, or something more realistic."

"What do you suggest I write about?" I said, "I want to see the world burn."

She wrote that down in her little book, with a big NO, NO, NO! written on the bottom.

"Well, then, consider writing a commentary on the philosophy of evil, or the nature of evil. Dante wrote a great deal on that topic."

"Do you know much about it?" I asked.

"I've read a bit. My favorite part of the Divine Comedy is the part where the pilgrim encounters the so-called "Cannibals, or people who eat their relatives."

"I don't think they're cannibals, I think they're just extremely evil people."

"No matter. The point is, you can draw on a vast knowledge of evil, and then, through a character who is not necessarily evil, but is capable of great acts of evil, you can explore the nature of good. That's what I tend to do. I explore the goodness in myself through the acts of villains, so to speak."

"I see."

"There's also the "tragedy of the commons." You can write about a world where all the natural resources are held in common, and the story of the struggles between those who want to privatize and those who want to leave it as it is. The tragedy is that the commons will always be invaded. It's a struggle between those who believe in the free-for-all, and those who believe in order and regulation. The question is, who wins?"

"It hasn't been decided yet?" I answered after a moment's thought, then stared at her.

"Well, obviously, order is what will ultimately triumph. But you could argue that freedom is a necessary ingredient in the recipe for chaos. I don't know that anyone knows how to successfully regulate freedoms."

"That's a bold claim," I said.

"Why is it a bold claim?"

"Because how do we know that the regulator will be fair and satisfy everyone if regulation is needed?"

"Well, you could write a story about heroes who try to fight the system when it's unjust. Don't we all need a little bit of hope?"

She had a point.

"I'll try to write it that way, one other thing, I'm thinking about what New Zealand university to go to, do you have any good suggestions?"

"Well, there's Victoria University, or you can try a smaller school, like, say, Canterbury or Otago. I'd imagine they'd both be pretty easy on the credits."

"Thanks, well, maybe we won't see each other in the future." I said with a sigh.

"Oh, don't be so pessimistic! We'll probably cross paths."

"Cross paths, huh? More like, perhaps, brush shoulders?"

"Why, do you think?"

"I won't be staying in New Zealand for graduation, and as a goodbye gift, can I kiss you?" I asked, staring at her.

"Yes, you may," she said, averting her gaze. "Now, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

"No," I said, "But..."

I was flustered. I didn't know why, but being this close to her, I felt strangely tongue-tied. I mean, if I was a guy, I'd probably be blushing.

"But?" she asked.

"I'll remember you."

"Well, will you include me as a prototype in your fictional story?"

"Sure."

"Great. I was afraid that you wouldn't."

I wanted to say something. I wanted to apologize. But the words would not come. I felt like a moron.

I went over and held her head and kissed her. I wanted to feel her lips against my own. We shared a passionate kiss, like two teenagers making out for the first time. I could taste the lipstick she was wearing.

I felt her press against me. She sighed. Her lips parted, and she moaned into my mouth. I felt her moist tongue against my own. It felt so good.

We broke apart and looked into each others' eyes.

She smiled.

"See you soon," she said.

"Yes, see you soon."

I watched her walk back to her dorm, wondering how it would all turn out.

For me, the path forward was clear.

Although we are on the same planet, but we will not meet; these things will also become a youthful teenage memories remain in the depths of my heart.

I wonder if she will ever read these words...

When I was younger, my father used to tell me stories. Tales of a bygone era, before the world became this dull place of ours. The stories, though fictional, contained elements of truth.

They weren't mere fictions, and so they seemed all the more real.

One of these fictions was about a great hero, who set out to save the world, not really knowing if he could.

He set out on an epic journey of self-discovery, and although it became clear that he could not achieve his goal, he forged an unlikely alliance with an unlikely creature, and together they accomplished the seemingly impossible.

Then, they went their separate ways. I won't write the rest of the story, to spare the feelings of the reader. Suffice it to say, the unlikely duo became rich and famous.

I wonder, will the reader learn similar lessons that the unlikely duo did, in an unlikely story, like this one?

***

"The devil's road. Don't go down that road, Li Mu." My father said.

I shrugged.

"Why not? It's an interesting idea."

"Because, if you go down that path, you'll never come back."

"What's the point of living, if you're not going to die?" I put down my cup of tea and said to my father, "There's a Greek independence songbook that says it all: Better a minute of freedom than forty years of oppression and slavery."

He said nothing to that.

"I want freedom," I said, "I want to go down that path."

"I know you do," he said, "But it's not the right path for you anymore. You have a family to take care of."

"I'm an adult, I can take care of myself."

"It's an illusion, I'm trying to tolerate you bringing that girlfriend of yours named Ellie to your apartment as long as I can, do you think you're Shelley?"

"She's my girlfriend."

"No, she's not. She's a teenage girl in love with you and you alone. Don't you remember what that was like?"

"That was a long time ago."

"And you're not that person anymore, son. You've become a man now, and you need to start acting like one." My father folded up the newspaper and said, "You need a Chinese wife who is as bourgeois as you are, not a white girl who dropped out of high school."

"Why not both?"

"Because, if you get married to a Chinese woman, you'll never be able to integrate into white society. It'll be like you're still living in the Stone Age."

I shook my head and said, "Why should we integrate? This is not a hundred years ago, when China was achieving the international status it has had for most of its history. Although I don't like its people and ruling party, we should be close to the country of our ancestors; not the white societies far beyond the seas that will always see us as alien because of the color of our skin. Even if I inherited my pupils from my white grandmother."

My father shook his head and said, "Not everyone is like that. Not everyone has the desire and the ambition to become like that."

"Then why are we even discussing it?" I said, "I'll make my choice, even if it's better to suffer setbacks and pain than to have the first half of my life go smoothly."

"Because it's your future, son."

"I'm old enough to make my own decisions and live my own life."

My father sighed, "Fine. You can decide to live your life however you want. Just know that you'll never find out what you're capable of, if you don't try."

"I know that just because I have white girlfriends doesn't mean I want to fit in with white society. Those stupid racists discriminate against Asian men while pursuing Asian women. Would a real racist or nationalist like other ethnic women?"

"Ellie is not a racist," my father said.

"She's the racist," I said, "She just hides it well. I've seen her hold an absurdly strong position on the politics of race, while caring little about the races itself. She's the type that would use the government to put people of certain races into certain jobs, if she thought it would further her own ends. She's not loyal to anyone or anything. She's only loyal to herself."

My father laughed.

"She's a good person, son. She's a wonderful person. She's misunderstood, like you. Don't actively hurt people with malicious intent. Do, however, be wary of them."

"Why?"

"Because some of the most dangerous people are the nicest. Don't second guess others with good intentions, don't look at what people say versus what face they put on in disguise, look at what people actively do versus what they stand for. This is what I have learned. This is what I am teaching you. Now go."

"Thanks, Dad."

"Don't forget what I said."

"I won't. Goodbye, Dad."

"Goodbye, son."

I watched my father get up from the couch and walk out of the room. I never even saw his face change expression or hear him say anything else. He simply disappeared from sight. I put down the book and got up from the couch. I looked through the window and saw him walking down the stairs. He did not turn around and go further into the house. He simply walked down to the street and disappeared. I went to the door and opened it. The outside was silent and empty. He was gone.

I was sad that he would grow old, he was tough but not domestically abusive to anyone in his family or had any bad habits. He was a role model for me to aspire to throughout my life, ordinary and ethical. I did not know how a father could ever be replaced. A good father figures are irreplaceable. But what were my choices?

Before I could make my decision, there were still things that needed to be done.

I had to figure out how I would tell Ellie, I had to tell my Dad, I had to move out and find a job and all by myself. I decided that I would tell Ellie first, and come back here after I had a fair idea of what I would be doing.

I knocked on the door of her apartment. She answered almost immediately.

"Why hello, Li." She smiled.

"Hi, Ellie. I'm going to be moving out. I was wondering if you'd like to join me."

She walked with me to the door that led into the hallway. She asked where I was going, and I replied, "I don't know yet."

She said, "Oh. Well, you could stay here. I could get you a room."

That was the kind of girl she was. She would give anything to make me happy. But I had to be practical.

"I'll be fine, Ellie. I'm thinking about doing an internship and working for a bit before going to college. Why don't you get a room ready for me for when I get back? Thanks."

"Sure thing. I'd be happy to do that. I'll make you a key for the front door in case you decide to stay here on a more permanent basis."

"Sounds good. Thank you, Ellie. By the way, what are you going to do in the future? Go to college with me or? Or are you going to do something else?"

"I'm going to go to nursing school. And hopefully practice in the near future. You're going to be moving out?"

She asked.

"Yeah. My dad's going to be moving out soon, too. We're both leaving."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Are you sure you're going to be all right? I mean, with just the two of you?"

"Yeah. We'll be fine. Don't worry about us. I love you." I hugged her and smelled her body and said, "I told my father, and he acquiesced to our relationship."

She said, "He didn't argue? Why?"

"He said that he's never supported my decision in the first place. So his main purpose in being here was to give his blessing."

"Wow. I could tell he cared about you. Not many people do that nowadays. That's why I love you."

"You're lying."

"Am I?"

I waved my hand, sat down on the couch and said, "Tell the truth, don't lie."

"Fine, I'll tell you the truth. I'm lying. But only to make you happy."

I laughed.

"What are you going to do with the money you get from this?"

"I'm not going to do anything with it. This is just for fun."

"You're lying. You're never going to use that money for anything else. You're going to buy a car with it, and you're going to use it to set up some kind of business."

"You know what I mean. That's none of your business, and it's none of yours."

"Don't be like that. I can tell that you're planning something. What are you going to do with your future? I want to know."

"I told you, I'm going to get a job and practice as a nurse."

"Do you have any idea what that job is going to be, or what you're going to do with your life?" I sighed and said, "You have to take responsibility for your life, not just give up on yourself like I did except for literary creation."

"You're being very mean. Why are you like this to an adolescent? Shouldn't you be more concerned about me?"

"More concerned? I'm not that empathetic, come look at the tattoos on your back & chest." I waved and leaned back.

She came to me and sat down on my lap. I felt awkward with her on my lap like this, but she didn't seem to mind. I was glad about that.

I came near and studied her artwork. I said, "Those are wonderful. You drew those yourself?"

"Yeah. What about them?"

"You're an aspiring artist, aren't you? You should come to my school someday and draw a picture of me." I stroked her back, her spine was stamped with my English name from the neck to the lumbar vertebrae and the rest of her back was stamped with some bizarre occult tattoos.

She said, "I thought you might like them. Do you think I'm talented?"

"I'm not sure about that. You have a unique style. I've never seen anything quite like you."

"Really?" She was beaming with pride.

"Of course, it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen and you appeal to me. Just don't get a tattoo of exposed skin outside of your clothes, it will ruin society's perception of you. Now can I see the front of you?"

She turned slowly and let me see the "L" from her neck to her waist and then her left breast. Then she smiled and said, "Can I ask you something ?"

"Sure."

"Will you be my boyfriend?"

"Is that what you really want?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. If that's what you really want, then yeah, you can have it."

"Really?" She was smiling widely.

"Yeah, really."

I hugged her and smelled her hair and said, "Don't worry, I'll treat you fairly."

"Fair?" She seemed a bit puzzled.

I caressed her abdomen and chest, where the tattoo pattern of flowers was printed. I said, "You have a nice set of curves on you."

"Oh. Um thanks."

"You think it's important to be fair, don't you?"

"Well, yeah."

"I don't."

"What?" she asked, puzzled.

"My father wanted me to marry a Chinese-American girl of the same origin whose father was on the board of directors of several multinational companies." I smiled.

"That's... very racist."

"It's just a game." I sighed and said, "That's not love, that's a money transaction."

"Aren't you two supposed to be...?"

"In love?"

"Well, yeah."

"No, I don't like her. She's a girl who grew up practicing dance and music and painting and was able to have her work appear in an auction by the time she graduated from junior high school." I answered after thinking about it.

"She's not that different from you, she's just better at hiding it."

"I'm not going to marry her."

"Why not? But you did like her."

"Yeah. She's cute." I said, "But she's not as sexy and attractive and obedient as you are. She's just the girl who hasn't experienced it yet."

"You don't think she'd be good for you?"

"She's too good for me."

"You don't like her because she's perfect."

"Yes, it's too perfect. It's not my type, and even if I were married it wouldn't make me happy. So, how are you going to show me your beauty?" I asked as I pinched her nipples.

Oh my god, that felt so good. For some reason, I wanted to do it again.

I grabbed the rest of her and kissed her passionately, and put my hand down to feel her heat. Then I moved to unbutton her blouse.

She backed away from me and gasped, "I thought you'd never ask." She was now wearing a pink lacy bra instead of a regular one.

I smiled, "I thought I'd never ask you to do that either."

I took off her bra and admired the fullness of her bare breasts.

She gasped and said, "You're very forward."

She took off her pants and sat astride me so that her bare bottom pressed against my erection.

I said, "I've done this before."

"No you haven't."

I pulled off her panties and entered her.

* * *

That night, I couldn't stop thinking about my future wife and all the things I'd heard my father say. I couldn't stop hearing his words echo in my head.

I dreamed of my father's funeral and was there. When I saw the body, I couldn't recognize him. I kept crying, "Father." It was a silent scream. I ran into his chest and it felt so hollow and empty. There was no warmth or life left inside.

I was crying and mourning. I thought, "What will become of me?" I had a new appreciation of everything. The world looked grim and hopeless.

Then I saw her. She was standing behind my father. I asked, "What did you do? Why is he dead?"

She said nothing. She just kept looking at my father.

I said, "You killed him!"

She looked at me with a stony face and said, "You're wrong. He chose to do this."

"No, you did this!"

"Shut up, idiot boy. It's done. Move on."

I woke up in a cold sweat.

I sat there in silence and contemplated my situation. I had to figure out how to get out of this.

I figured I had to make the best out of this. I didn't know what she'd done or said.

Next morning, I went to school as usual. I saw her sitting in the front row. She avoided my gaze.I sat quietly in my seat reading my textbook and waited until the end of class when I followed her to the stairwell. I raised my hand.

I began to speak, "I saw what you did to my father last night."

"Excuse me?" she asked as she looked up from her book.

"What did you do?"

"What are you talking about?" she asked, confused.

"You killed him, didn't you?"

She said, "I did not."

"Why would you say that? I saw it. I was there."

"What you saw was not what actually happened. Nothing happened. At least, that's what you need to believe."

"But, he's dead!"

"Yes. But, he lives."

"You lie."

"No, I'm not."

She raised her hand and called on me.

"I saw the body. It's true."

She pressed my face and said, "Wake up, do you remember who I am? What time is it?"

"I'm sorry. I was sleep... uh. I don't know what time it is."

She grabbed my hand and sat down next to me.

"What happened last night? What did you see?"

"I saw him dead. You killed him."

"Did you kill him?"

"No."

"I did. That's why you're here. You're here to take his place." She took my hand and whispered, "Look at me, you have to distinguish between your dream and reality, your dream is what might happen afterwards."

"But, I saw what you did."

"No, you saw a movie in your head. That's not real."

"I'm not lying."

"I know, but you can't treat what happens after the movie as if it's happening now, the me in your dream is the me in the future." She stroked my hair and said, "Just wake up and try to forget everything that happened in your dream. It'll be better that way."

I didn't know if it was true. I didn't even know if it was a good idea. But, I didn't have a choice.

I woke up.

* * *

I struggled to get up and Ellie stared at me from beside the bed and said, "Bad dream?"

"Yeah."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, I'm fine."

She wrapped her arms around me and said, "Don't be mad at yourself. It's just a dream."

I pushed her arms off me and said, "I'm not mad."

"You don't seem fine."

"No, I'm fine."

She grabbed my hand and said, "Have a glass of water and calm down before you tell me what you dreamed."

I obeyed. I went into the bathroom and grabbed a glass of water.

When I returned, Ellie put on her clothes and said, "I'm going to take a shower, want to join me?"

"Sure."

She walked into the bathroom and closed the door.

I sat on the bed and thought about what she'd said. I had a bad feeling about what happened to my father.

I got up and went into the bathroom. I closed the door and undressed.

When I came back, Ellie was facing me.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"You're acting weird. What's the matter?"

I didn't know how to answer.

"Tell me the truth. Did you do it?"

"No."

"You're lying."

"I'm not."

Her face became stony and she stepped towards me.

I grabbed her arm and said, "I'm not lying."

She said, "Then, you must have the power. That's why you're still here. Don't you remember?"

"You're right, I'm going to dominate you. It's just that I had a strange dream, and I suspect it was something you put in my food."

"Me? I didn't do anything. I don't have the power."

I was quiet for a moment and then she said, "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to leave."

"You can't. I don't have the power. You have to dominate you."

"No, I'm not going to do that. I'm going to leave."

"You can't. You're connected to me. You can't separate. You have to dominate you."

"How?"

She didn't answer me. She took my hand.

I looked down. We were touching.

I said, "I want to go to the future. Please."

She looked me dead in the eye and said, "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"You have the power. You can dominate me. You just have to put me to sleep and do it."

"No, that's not what I mean."

She didn't care, held my hand and said, "I didn't mean your nightmare, I saw some spices in some occult books and made some to hang on the curtains."

"What does this have to do with anything?"

"I don't know, but that's what I did. It's harmless. I don't have anything to do with time. I told you that."

"That doesn't matter. I still want to know how you can help me."

She smiled and said, "I find these spices stimulating to humans, sexually arousing you during waking hours and restful during sleep. But the nightmare you had was probably an accident, right?"

She returned naked with me to the bedroom curtains, where several black spice packets hung from the curtain rod.

"What are these for?" I asked.

"I'm not sure. Perhaps a little bit of this will put you to sleep. Perhaps a lot will. It's really a matter of trial and error. Good luck, sleep is very important."

"I'm not sure, you saw the method of making it in that book? What materials were used?"

"Oh, you're going to find out soon enough, just relax. Just try to get some sleep. I'll wake you in a few hours. You're not going to need much of a sleep, you'll be fine. The nightmare you experienced was probably something you'll have often."

"Or will it always be like that?"

"I don't know. I hope not. Goodnight. I'll see you in a few hours."

I closed my eyes and immediately began to fall asleep.

* * *

I awoke when Ellie nudged me. I looked at my watch, it was 6:00 A.M.

"Wake up."

"I'm awake."

"Did you sleep okay?"

"Yeah."

"I dreamed of a white rat."

"Really?"

"Yeah, it was chasing a piece of cheese."

"That's interesting." She climbed on top of me and said, "Maybe that's what those spices are for, you should just relax."

"What? No. What are you doing?"

"Kiss me."

"Ellie, what are you...?"

She grabbed my hand, placed it on her breast and said, "Kiss me, now."

I felt such a rush of happiness that I kissed her on the lips. It wasn't the soft, sensuous kiss of a few minutes ago. It was more along the lines of a deep, passionate kiss. I felt her body go rigid against mine and I felt her nipples harden against my chest.

She said, "I missed you."

"I missed you, too."

* * *

I was having trouble focusing my eyes. I felt a dull headache coming on. Ellie noticed, and said, "You should get some rest. You need it."

"I'll be fine."

I took down from the curtain rod the black spice bags with the red pentagram embroidered on them. It was a little creepy, but I put them in my pocket.

I said, "What are those for?"

"I don't know, I'm not sure. Perhaps a little bit of this will put you to sleep. Perhaps a lot will. It's really a matter of trial and error. Good luck, sleep is very important."

I wasn't sure, but it seemed like she was flirting with me.

I said, "Can I see what else is in the house?"

She said, "Of course. But, you can't touch anything, not even the curtains. I'll go get you something to eat, and you can watch television."

"That sounds great. Can I have some hot chocolate?"

"Of course."

I put the spice packets on the table and said, "What book did you read to make the spices? Did you embroider this pentagram?"

"The book was old, I just traced the pattern."

"Is that it?"

"Yeah, that's all I did. I'm not really good at embroidery, so it took me a long time."

I decided to open two spice packets to see if that would put me to sleep. They were small black pouches, with a strong, smoky scent.

I said, "I'm going to try these."

She said, "You don't want to be on too many at once, it can have side effects."

"Like what?"

"Well, there have been reports of people going into a deep state of sleep and never waking up. They've been stuck in the nightmare for the rest of eternity, unable to move or even open their eyes."

"How do you make these things? I'm wondering if you're in some kind of cult!" I skeptically went to the bedroom and took out all her books to say.

"No, no, the knowledge is available to anyone with the drive to seek it. There are several books that teach the secrets. I'll get you one, it will explain it all." Ellie got burnt eggs with her toast, and said, "Okay, I'll get you one of these books. Which one do you want?"

She brought me a book called, "Make your dreams come true: the power of lucid dreaming."

"What does that mean? Is that some kind of cheesy self-help book?"

"No, it's not that at all. It's more like a how-to book, I think." Ellie shrugged and said, "I don't know, it was the only one they had."

"Can I read it?"

"Of course not. It's my private property."

I laughed and stood behind her, staring at her getting breakfast and said, "Maybe it's just a book of psychological innuendo, those spices don't work at all."

"Fine, if it's a thriller you want, read this one."

She placed it in my hands and said, "You choose."

Oddly enough, I chose this book.

The book was surprisingly heavy for its size. It was hard bound, but the pages were thin and creased. There was a glossy photo on every other page, making the whole book look like it was covered with a layer of dust.

I flipped through it. On the inside cover was written, "The power to dream is the ability to transform imagination into reality."

I said, "The cover is very slippery and has a strange touch."

"That's the binding."

"What, this whole thing is glued together?"

"Possibly. You don't want to see the back of this because it would be too gruesome for you."

I didn't even want to know what that meant.

I flipped ahead to the next photo. The author described in great detail how to induce lucid dreaming. He wrote that lucid dreaming could be induced by using meditation, sleep education, and dreams.

I said, "Hm. How do these work?"

"You just have to be willing to put yourself in a trance. Once you're in one, you'll be able to control your dreams."

The author then listed different types of meditation and how to get into them. He listed different ways to fall asleep.

He wrote, "To maintain the dream sta

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