Hi, 
I know you've probably been worried about me. Either that or really angry with 
me. That's pretty much the mixture of e-mails and phone messages I've been 
receiving. 
And I honestly don't know what to say to you, no matter which one of either of 
those choices applies to you. 
By now, I'm sure you know what Dr. Kendra and I found when we drove out to Ash 
Grove Park. If I hadn't been there with her, as we drove up to the place, if 
she had gone there herself and called me with this same story, I would never 
have believed it. I would have seriously believed she was the crazy one. 
I don't know how to explain it. It was in the very same place, I swear to God, 
where I had driven twice before. There was an amusement park there, not a 
graveyard. I know it. I can still picture the rides, I can still almost smell 
the carnival atmosphere. But it's not there. At least, not now. 
But listen, there are these things, these physical things that just can't be 
explained. You saw the website that was there and the "memory" videos that came 
from there, didn't you? You may have even written to the webmaster. Many people 
have told me they did and got not one, but several responses. 
Responses talking about an amusement park, not a cemetery. And then there was 
the ticket stub that the hospital had in my effects. Of course, somehow it's 
conveniently disappeared but several of my new friends have sent me the picture 
that the hospital had posted before someone else picked up my effects. How can 
you or anyone explain that? 
But no matter what, there's one unescapable fact. The park isn't there. Ask Dr. 
Kendra. I'll never forget her face as we got out of the car and walked into the 
deserted cemetery. Such a terrifying mixture of bitter disappointment and pure 
anger from having a faith betrayed. And what could I say? Point to the tomb 
that now stands where I swear a carousel once revolved gleefully amd say "It 
was there, I swaer it?" 
And so I'm left again with two devastatingly irreconcilable realities. With 
just enough pieces of each one to make me doubt the veracity of the other, and 
wonder exactly what it is I believe any more. 
One thing I can't escape. I am still alone in a world where the two things that 
mattered most to me, my wife and my daughter, have been taken from me, in one 
way or another, because of something I did. And that's a burden I don't know if 
I can bear much longer. 
I swear to you I did not deceive you or anyone else deliberately. But I 
honestly do not know how to prove that or anything else to you anymore. I'm 
hoping I can convince Dr. Kendra to hypnotize me; she mentioned that as a 
possible treatment alternative in one of our sessions at Klepsydra, but has 
resisted it ever since when I have brought it up. She claims it's just too 
unreliable for a lot of different reasons. 
But for some reason, I'm convinced it may help in some way. I need to know 
what's hidden in my mind. Somewhere, what really happened has to be in there, 
if I can only access it somehow. 
I'm running out of time, I know. The brothers can't have forgotten about me and 
our little arrangement. They are bound to come calling soon. 
And as each day passes, it seems harder and harder for me to remember the 
details of what happened that day, that day when everything changed. It's as if 
any trail that may be there is dissolving right before my eyes and I'm watching 
my final hopes fade with it. 
I can't sleep and I can't focus on anything. I will try and be in touch. I need 
to go to my Synthasia office tomorrow and do some things; I haven't been there 
since all this happened. 
Thank you for your attempts to help me. And I'm truly sorry. 
Dale Sprague