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.