Sunday, November 05, 2006

It seemed innocent enough, last night at around three in the morning to take two Tylenol PM to get rid of the non-sleepies. After, I turned on my space heater to read a little. My latest infatuation are Tony Hillerman novels, one, because one of my fiction stories takes place in Navajo Indian Territory, and two because he's a fine story teller.

Eventually, because I remembered to give into the sleeping pills, which usually have no effect on me, I fell asleep. And woke up at three fifteen in the afternoon.

Doh. Fuck.

I couldn't believe what time it was. I'd had an intense dream about September 11th. I dreamed I was inside this strange woman's apartment in Queens, but didn't know how I got there. It was in a high-rise and looked out to a view of Manhattan. For some reason, I knew it was her retirement apartment, the one that she'd saved up to buy, and thought how depressing that was, as it was small, had two views into the sides of other buildings, but did have a fabulous view of Manhattan.

To my horror, the woman came home while I was still there. She saw me, I pretended I was maintenance, and walked out the door. Some dealings with a parking garage later, and I was being driven from Queens and noticed the skyline. The Twin Towers were there. I remarked on this to my non-descript token dream companion and we realized that we'd traveled back in time. I told him we had to get to New York and warn the people what was going to happen.

Once there, I was met with some insolent security guards who looked at me like I was a nut, then said I was interrupting their tabletop football game. You know, that game you played in class when the teacher wasn't looking. The one with a triangle shaped ball made out of folded paper while someone makes a goal post out of their thumbs and index fingers. You try to get the ball through the goal posts by flicking it, usually ending up smacking the other person in the face. Never understood the allure of that one.

Anyway, I grabbed that paper triangle football and told him that I knew he thought I was a nut, but to just remember to get people out of the building when it happens. The absurdity of what I was saying, that commercial jets were going to hit the buildings and cause them to fall down, read on their faces. I told them that I didn't care what they thought, just remember to get everyone out as fast as you can.

In the dream, I knew I couldn't stop it from happening, but maybe lessen the loss of life. We told others, who also thought we were crazy. I said, just remember the 11th, like the two towers look like from far away, a big eleven. Remember that day, and remember this crazy lady telling you that everyone has to get out, not stay inside. The rest of it was spent telling anyone we could, mostly getting blown off but rattling the nerves of others.

I woke, unsure of where I was and wanting to go back to sleep so that I could warn more people. Instead, I looked at the clock. And that's where I realized I'd slept well into the afternoon, aided by sleeping pills and a sense of purpose. Tonight, or shall I say this morning, it's back to melatonin.

I did manage to kick in gear pretty fast. I went to the other Starbucks and had a nice discussion with a well to do African American family. The daughter was visiting home from college at Columbia University, and mom and dad were with her. They were stopping in for coffee before going out to dinner. Extremely nice family, and the discussion started over the daughter's purse, which I liked a lot. From there, the conversation was as natural as if we were old friends sitting around a coffee table. Me and the dad in arm chairs, and mom and the daughter on a nice leather couch. Amazing the souls you come in contact with. I think of all the people I've had conversations with at coffee shops, it's heartwarming. That is, unless you're a creepy person. Someone sent me this great cartoon today based on my last posts. So true. To the person that sent it, if you want credit for it, email me and I'll link ya. I know some of you like your privacy.

I got a bite on my resume on Friday. We'll see where that takes me. And, I did finish that cover letter after having the nice chat with the family tonight. They had good energy and apparently it rubbed off on me. I sent cover letter and redone resume to the intended target when I got home tonight. Then I made chocolate chip cookies and ate about ten of them.

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