Whatever was happening dissolves. I find myself in an empty downtown area. There are two incredibly tall, white buildings in the middle of a large, vacant circle. Suddenly, people and plant life start appearing on the concrete. A tiny airplane flies into one of the tall, white buildings. There is a small puff of smoke.

The clock radio came on, it was the news. I didn’t have anywhere to be on that day, the alarm was set on accident. The newscaster said something about an airplane crashing into the World Trade Center. I groggily got up and turned the radio off, too sleepy to process the information on the news—I figured it was no big deal and went right back to sleep. I had another dream about a huge, green, spruce goose-looking airplane landing in an empty field; then being in a very crowded and chaotic office building in a large city.

When I did get up, I turned on the television and saw the pillar of black smoke rising from Manhattan. What? It took me several minutes to put together what the newscasters were saying. All four hijacked airplanes had crashed by the time I turned the television on. I made my coffee and stayed tuned to the television for at least an hour, trying to absorb the gravity of what happened.

I went outside; my neighbor, Knuckles, was out there. I said, “I guess things are going to be different from now on.” We discussed the events then went to another neighbor’s apartment a few duplexes down. Otis was getting ready to go to work—he worked security at some government facility in downtown Nashville and was called in because of the attacks. Watching the crowds of people running, he said that if he were there, he’d be looking for valuables people may have dropped. There, for the first time, I saw the video of the towers crashing down. Otis’s girlfriend, Pooh, came in—she hadn’t heard anything about anything. I didn’t care to go over the whole story again, so I left.

I returned to my apartment and watched television until the neighborhood kids got home from school. They were all confused. One girl was in student government, and they watched the situation unfold. She saw the second plane crash live. Stupidly, I told her, “If there’s one thing America’s good at, it’s kicking ass.” That was supposed to make her feel better. Another little girl asked me if I’d heard what happened, and I said sarcastically, “Oh no, I didn’t hear anything.” We were all confused, but I should have known better.

A few years earlier, a tornado came through the neighborhood, several blocks down. I drove through the damaged area and told myself that I would never forget the feeling I had. Of course, I did. It’s the same thing with 9/11, I have for gotten how terrible I felt on that day. Even now, thinking about it enough to write about it, I can’t recapture the horror.

(2005)