At half past midnight, after a portentous flickering of the lobby lights, the Dream King walked through the hotel's front door, black leather jacket slung over his left shoulder and toting a blue plastic bag. We had wanted to meet him one last time, to bid goodbye and express our gratitude for his spending time in Manila among his Filipino fans.

Gone, however, was the smile in his step and the irrepressible enthusiasm he had displayed during his three whirlwind marathon signing sessions. His shoulders were stooped and his hair, usually unruly, seemed terribly flat. He looked much older than his 45 years.

Wordlessly, we decided not to bother the man. He had already done so much for us. We whispered a blessing, pleasant dreams, and let him be. We left a note at the desk for him to read at his convenience.

Even the Dream King needs his sleep.

This message has been edited. Last edited by: Didipus Rex,

I hope no one DID bother him further. He looked so tired, poor guy