It made no sense when I dreamed it. I know it's pathetic, but still, it wouldn't get out of my head.

When I heard he'd died, I was sad, but it was the sadness that comes with a distant relative dying. Someone you've never met, so you pretend for everyone else that it kills you, but inside you just…don't really care. I can admit this.

After the movie, after I saw him at his darkest, his death really hit me. Suddenly, the girl who doesn't care about anything was waking up from horrible dreams and crying in her sleep.

We were friends. He spoke in that wonderful deep voice of his about the water and life. We sat in the grass by my cabin and looked out over the lake, content to simply watch. I leaned back against his chest and his arms wrapped comfortingly around me and we smiled. I turned back to the water and he rested his chin on the top of my head. We were happy, that's all it was, happy to simply be alive.

That wasn't the dream that got to me, though it was almost painful. Waking up from that kind of peace and realizing he was gone. But no. The worst dream…it made ME, the heartless bitch, cry.

I was running.

Running so fast I couldn't see anything around me, but knew exactly where I was going. I had to get to him, had to stop what was happening. I knew he could take the pills. I knew he would be found cold and gone in hours should I not make it in time and I couldn't let that happen.

Above everything I had to save him.

I was in his hallway before anyone knew I was there and then I was at the door. Inside he looked at me as if I were insane, a bottle in his hands and I ran forward and slapped them away.

"Don't do it." I said urgently. "Please, just believe me, you can't take them. We can't loose you."

He laughed at that, the nervous laugh of someone about to call for help and I shook my head, holding up my hands.

"I promise I'm not here to hurt you, you'll never see me again after this, just please," and here I got on my knees, "Don't take them."

"What are you talking about?" he asked, holding the bottle again and frowned at me, "You mean the pills?" again he laughed and sat back down on his couch. "Why can't I?"

The way he said it, as if trying to console a weeping child, made me angry, but I shoved it back. He was more important.

"You'll die."

Everything was silent, and I suddenly remembered the first dream, sitting in the grass while he held me. The actor looked at the ground, then to the bottle in his hands and sighed.

"Okay." He said softly. "I won't take them."

And I couldn't contain myself. I ran to him and hugged him, he stiffened as anyone would do if a crazy girl grabbed them, but didn't push me away. I let go quickly, still smiling and went to the door.

"Thank you." I breathed, elated. "Thank you."

Outside the apartment door I was still grinning, but then someone started laughing. I knew the sound, could never forget it. HE was the reason I had to save the actor. The reason I hated dreaming now.

The Joker leaned casually against the wall and clapped for me.

"What are you doing?" I frowned. He shook his head and glanced at the door.

"Such a waste." He grinned.

"What?" but then I just knew. I threw open the door and rushed inside. My knees gave out the second I saw the blue skin.

Face down on the bed and cold. I sagged against the wall but caught the doorknob to keep myself up. He walked into the room, humming to himself and leaned over the body, poking it twice before I yelled to stop. He held up his hands and laughed.

"Geez, Will, I was only checking." Then he leaned over and motioned toward the body.

"You see that expression? Priceless."

I felt like throwing up and he suddenly mocked concern, stepping behind me and wrapping his arms around me like The Actor had done.

"Oh well. You can't save 'em all."

I woke up then, unable to get out of bed and crying like I was on Opera. I couldn't stop thinking about it. Even knowing it was a dream, I'd almost saved him. He could have been alive. I looked over at the poster of the clown's demented face, gazing intently back and scowled. Still halfway between dreams and waking, I spoke to him.

"You die too, asshole."

And then came that laugh.

"Oh no, sweetheart. I'm in for the long haul."

My dreams have been horrible since then. Always featuring my favorite clown, but still horrible. The things he says. Just to get at me. I'm obsessesed, I know this, but that doesn't make it go away. My friends keep telling me to just watch his other movies, but that seems to make it worse. Watching him shoot himself in Monster's Ball made me break down into ridiculously frantic tears and turn off the movie for at least 15 minutes. I hate this because I've never been this upset by anything!! This pisses me off beyond measure. But too bad…

You can't save them all.