i am walking through a crowded amusement park. there's balloons and lots of color filling my vision. i look down and find a little black/marble box. at first it seems to have some sort of mystical purpose before i realize it holds a very thick, very mysteriously heavy beeper. i assume it's made by nextel. i plan on selling it online.

We see more low-flying planes. They are shaped just like birthday candles, but they are missiles this time. They turn around and come back again, but they really are the size of birthday candles as they approach; we can swat them down. I push them down by the foil landings at their ends, burning my hands with every one as they sink into the earth

But there are too many.

They are being fired in the distance and we see each one lift off from the side of the dark metropolitan horizon. They start taking out the lights of the Binghamton score board, the letters going down one by one with hundreds of incoming lights. The letters, the lights of our town are the ones that we just rebuilt in the wake of the last attack, the Twin Towers, and they are going down again, being destroyed, all that we'd worked for in a burst, all at once, so quickly it is dazzling and heart-breaking and I am lost.

Some one has duct-taped down the button I had been using to display my art on the screen. I am truly defeated then. There is no hope. They have surrendered, and I can't do it all by myself. We are turning around, packing up our chairs and going home.

I feel like we've lost, and I am helpless. Completely and totally helpless and shaking and sweating and starting to wake, but still caught in the dream. They will be coming for my door, they may have taken out everything in my life already for all that I know, there were so many. I am suddenly struck with the fact that I do not have renter's insurance, and is there any way that I can get it before I lose everything. Is everything already lost. I am slowly waking to remember this hasn't happened and do not want to be alone. I am closing all the blinds so they cannot see me in the light of the lamps I am burning because I do not like the darkness. I calm myself down enough so that I do not go sleep on the floor of my apartment-mate's room, but that is a triumph of will. I cannot sleep. I read. And eventually I rest, only to wake up and choke on my breakfast, to nearly be ill.

I thought that this hadn't directly affected me. I was wrong I was wrong I was wrong.

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