February 23, 2004

This isn't the first time I've had a "WTC" dream. Last night it was one of those "dream within a dream within a dream" dreams. I dreamed we were all at some kind of huge event, one that President Bush was at. This massive plane flew overhead and just as it was above where Bush was giving a speech, it blew up. It was total chaos, people were running every which way, and Bush and his protective entourage ran off somewhere. I saw the front end of the plane, cut off from the rest of the plane still trying to fly like a helicopter, and when it finally did land (I know this makes no sense since it doesn't have wings), it exploded and everyone inside died. Then there were reports that Bush had been hit by some of the shrapnel, and sure enough they found his head lying in the debris. His head.

Then for some reason I was crying, from the sadness of Bush dying and I woke up from my dream, but when I woke up I was in my old house, in my room in the basement. This didn't click though, and I woke up and told my brother about the dream, but he wasn't really listening. I went outside and found myself in a museum, and I got to this american history section and read a panel about how President Bush had been killed in a terrorist attack. And I was like "wth?! that was only a dream!". So then I tried to wake up from the dream, and I did.

Only I hadn't, because I found myself being chased by CIA agents, as if I had been the one who had engineered the attack. At that point I realized it had to be a dream. And of course, when you know you're dreaming, you can do anything, so I started flying straight up into the air, with one hand clenched in a fist like superman, as if to try to break through the dream barrier. Higher and higher I went, through space and beyond, until I found myself in a pinkish blue (pastel colors) area, whereupon I forced myself to wake up.

And finally, for real this time.

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