Thursday, September 11, 2008


It was near the end of summer vacation.  Like many college students, I was back home at my parents' house taking advantage of every possible opportunity for extra sleep before heading back to school.

Ahh, the joys of sleeping in.

Through the hazy fog of half-slumber one morning I heard my parents outside my door in my dream.  

"...bombed the World Trade Center..."

"Should we tell her?"


"Nah," I thought. "No way." And I turned over to go back to sleep, expecting to wake up to the world as it usually was.

When I did the sleepy college student shuffle out to the living room, I saw the smoke on the television. I saw a replay of a plane flying into a tower.

Later on there was another.

It wasn't a bad dream.

If only it had been.

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