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11 May 2001 @ 09:38 pm
Dreamer's Terror  
I don't dream often, and when I do it's either beautiful or horrible. Like last night.

I stand at the bus stop in front of my school, watching the cars go by and listening to them whiz. Whoosh. Whee. My brother's standing two, maybe three feet away.
Suddenly, two white cars, speeding like a maniac, come hurtling down the street, Meridian. Suddenly, one is on top of the other, rolling and hurtling together and summersaulting and cartwheeling...the cars are squishing together, destroying the drivers but...there's no sound. No squealing tires, no breaking glass...no screams...nothing. Not a sound. I can see into the cars, the passengers - they're floating in midair! The cars are whirling so fast that they are caught in equilibrium, not moving in any direction. It lasts for only the shortest moments, and then they're crushed. Smashed. But I can no longer see them.
The cars finally stop when they collide with a lamp post. It's a relief - sorta. They've stopped moving. There still isn't a single noise. I turn to my brother. "Hurry, over there! Help them!" He nods, and takes off. I turn back to the school, and start running.
I run into the office and take the phone. There's a piece of paper that says just what to say in an emergency. I follow the formula when the phone is picked up at 911. "Help! On the corner of Branham and Meridian, in San Jose, there's been a major car accident! I...I think there are critical injuries...No, I haven't seen the wreck up close...great, great...No, I don't want your recipes for cooking enchiladas! What kind of hospital is this?" I slam the phone down, and step outside. I don't go out to the wreck. Instead, I walk home.

I saw the faces of the victims so clearly, yet I can't identify them. They were hispanic, my age. But that's all.
Bummer.
 
 
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