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I'm not prone to having keepsakes. I'm not really sentimental. Anyone that really knows me will tell you that.

There is one thing that I always keep: books. If you want me to keep something to remind me of you for the rest of my life, give me a book. I have several books like that in my collection. Let my hand or gaze rest on them when there is someone around to listen, and I'll regale you with their back-story. Look at my copy of Pattern Recognition, and I'll tell you about the girlfriend that traveled to Portland to get William Gibson's autograph for me after I missed him at the Elliott Bay Book Company.

Today, I found one of those books again, and I wanted to share the story since people get the idea that I'm always a hateful, soulless automaton.

I found my hardcover copy of Neil Gaiman's The Sandman: The Dream Hunters illustrated by Yoshitaka Amano. I'll break someone's heart right here and tell you that I've never been all about the Sandman. It just never appealed that much to me. I did like the Death mini-series.

My girlfriend in late 1999 loved Sandman, and she was incredibly excited for The Dream Hunters to come out. She bought it the day it came out and sequestered herself to devour it that first night. I stayed home and played Final Fantasy. I was a bit curious when she didn't call that night gushing about the book.

My curiosity only deepened when she thrust the book in my hands and bade me read it as soon as I got home from work and then keep it forever after. I promised her that I wouldn't peek at it until I could read the whole thing, and if you know me, you know how I am about promises.

I arrived home and sprawled out on my huge Italian leather sofa. I started reading grudgingly--the is before American Gods where I actually came to respect Neil's work--and was soon hooked. I wanted to race from page to page, but I stopped to savor the incredible paintings. At the end of the book, The King of All Night's Dreaming says, "Lessons were learned. Events occurred as it was proper for them to do. I do not perceive that my attention was wasted."

I picked up the phone and called Sherri.

She answered with, "Do you know why you have to keep that book forever?"

I said, "Because you see me in The King of Dreams?"

"When I read that 'do not perceive' line," she replied, "I heard it in your voice."

We broke up three months later, and I moved all the way across the country. For that one evening, she did something very rare: she flattered me. Flattering me is exceedingly hard to do, but comparing me to a character that wise and accepting worked.

Which brings me to the point, I try to be that accepting, wise, and gracious. These attributes are among the least represented in my basic character makeup. I like to think that I am wise and graceful from time to time.

However, I'm still human. I've been more human of late and less like the King of Dreams. I apologize to everyone that I've been short with, angry at, or disappointed in. You probably deserved it, but I still try to be better. I just let bone weariness, bitterness, and distrust settle into what was a very unclouded heart. That is my failing, which I will try to rectify.

Lessons were learned, indeed.