This dream keeps going on.
This terrible dream.
Madmen and airplanes. Huge twisted smoking hulks that used to be sleek beautiful buildings. Talking heads on the TV making noise about war. Self-serving politicians yapping about to protect Americans they have to take their guns away or limit their right to assemble or travel. Graphic pictures of injured people and smashed vehicles.
I roll over. Try to get the dream to change.
The president is in church. Generals and fire fighters. Flags everywhere. Giant fires and mountains of debris. Endless lists of dead, missing, injured.
I walk around the room. Get a drink of water.
The dream refuses to go away.
Closed airports, empty stadiums, silent streets. Broken glass, melted walls, crushed bodies. Parades of ambulances. Grim men with shovels and buckets. Helicopters flying in and out with cargo’s of the dead.
I wipe sweat and try to get control of my own mind that will not stop the movie of dreadful images.
A Moslem incarnation of the devil himself. Radio reporters speak of a ground zero. Aircraft carriers off the coast, armed jets patrol the American sky. Every newspaper looks the same. People at work talk about war and death and revenge. The say the reserves are being called up, and plans for invasions being made.
The alarm goes off. I crawl out of bed. It was not a good night’s sleep.
I limp to the shower and wash the nightmare off.
Over breakfast and some coffee I turn the TV on out of habit.
I still haven’t woke up.
The dream goes on.
When will it end?