and on again!

yo, folks! you ready to continue with chapter 2? yeah? then let's go, and have fun!
-
What the hell had happened to him? What the hell had he done to deserve this? He didn’t know, and that lack of knowledge drove him mad. He could still see people where he was; see what they did, where they went, hear what they talked.
But they didn’t see him, not even when he approached them and talked to them. No one recognized him; no one realized he was there.
One time he had tried to stop a man passing by him. This experience had shocked him beyond anything he had ever seen. It wasn’t that the man hadn’t seen him, or stepped around him, as it would be expected: no, he had walked through him! Oh, God, this was the ultimate proof to him that something inexplicable and terrible had happened to him. When he had read in the newspapers about his supposed abduction a few weeks ago, however, he’d tried to contact his family, his friends. In vain. Nothing he did worked; he couldn’t move things, couldn’t produce breezes, couldn’t do anything to give a sign, to show them he was still alive, still there. Nothing would work.
A few weeks later, he gave up, desperate, seeing their grief and helplessness and being just as helpless himself, as he had never been before in his life. Just what the fuck had happened?
He tried very hard not to brood about the hows and whys. Yet most of the time he failed miserably, thinking over and over about what could be the reasons for this mess.
One day he had come home from a strenuous day at his office. He hadn’t been in the mood for going out with some friends, so he’d made himself comfortable with some crisps, watching TV for a while, and then had gone to bed. Falling asleep that day was the last thing he remembered. The next day he’d gone to work as usual, but his secretary hadn’t seen him. No one had. He’d shouted and yelled at them, had tried anything he could think of, without results.
God, he felt so lonely.
Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t notice where his feet carried him. It wasn’t important, anyway, because he knew there wasn’t anything he could do in this situation. He’d wander around for a time, see what would happen. A few hundred feet away he could see a little forest with a river flowing through it. Suddenly he felt a pull towards it, like a magic attraction, urging him closer and closer, until he entered and followed the only path leading through it. It was beautiful, and despite the overwhelming desperation torturing him, his spirits lifted a bit. It was absolutely quiet except for the beautiful song of birds sitting in the trees. He went on, slowly, taking in all the beauty of the place, looking for a bench to sit and enjoy the glimmer of hope and joy this forest gave him, to let it ease the god-awful pain and misery he suffered, at least a bit. There, under an old tree, he found one. A gorgeous place for a bench. Fitting, too, for one had a wonderful view from there.
He sat down, drinking in sensations he had been missing for so long.
“Hey, Dwane, looks like you’re becoming a radar for nice places” Dwane Connor, yeah, that was his name. He had almost forgotten, not saying or hearing it for such a lot time. Smiling,
he leaned back. His eyelids suddenly grew heavy, so very heavy. He would relax them for a minute or so. Instead, he fell asleep, strangely soothed by his surroundings.