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Last night I dreamed there was a six foot water surge in Brooklyn. No one knew about it ahead of time. The news announced it just an hour beforehand.

I was in a cafe/bistro type of place with Andrew and I don’t know who else. It was the middle of the night, but the place was open. All the sudden, people ran screaming and scared through the streets. We were in Brooklyn Heights, I think, and they ran away from the East River. I stuck my head out of the cafe door. No one would stop to tell us what was going on. Then some girl told us. She had a little mini afro. She said a 6 foot water surge was coming. A tsunami, like, but she didn’t use that word. She said no one knew in advance. They just realized, and it was coming.

Then we were under the elevated train, like in the Bronx, but still in Brooklyn. We were talking and looking, and before we knew it, we were standing up to our shins in freezing water. We ran away from the water. People ran up fire escapes to get out of the water’s way. Then we went up to a fourth story apartment and watched the water come up. I was out of breath from running up four flights. Everything went dark when the power went out, and we lighted candles, and watched the cars float out to sea.

After 9/11/01, I dreamed I was in a building that fell over sideways. It was kinda the building I grew up in, kinda not. I tumbled around and around in my parent’s living room, which is on the 10th floor. The building had split at its midpoint, and fell to the right. In the dream I tumbled and tumbled around, as if the building fell from space over and over on top of itself. It paused for a moment, and I had rolled into a ball in one corner. I looked out the window and saw a horde of men – an army of terrible, angry, civilian men. They were waiting up at the corner by my childhood library, in a mob. They were focused on the falling building, eager and breathless. Once the building landed, they would attack us and hack us up with their dull, dirty knives. The building started its fall, and I started to roll around the room again banging into the floor, and the walls, and the ceiling. I woke up when I tumbled out of bed and hit the floor. Last night’s dream was a bit like that.

Poor New York…

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