I keep having this nightmare about a train derailment. It's the fifth night in a row I have had it.

Everything happens so rapidly, it's hard to tell what is going on.

The train speeds past me, and suddenly explodes off the tracks. All I can sense is the shrill sound of metal bending and the acrid smell of burning.

I tend to have nightmares, lots of them, but lately they seem much more probable than before. And that makes them all the more terrifying.

02:09 on September 17, 2001

I had a terrible nightmare last night. I am emotionally drained, confused and still a little frightened.

I was heading for the museum, walking across the broad grass, smiling at the day. Out of no where, snipers started shooting at people enjoying the warm sun and the cool air. I took cover behind a 3 foot high concrete landscaping wall. The air was filled with screaming and the whirring of bullets over my head. People falling. Gurgling for breath. The woman next to me protecting her daughter with her own body, hit. They both collapse, eyes blank.

Then silence. Even the wounded ceased moaing and calling for help. I started to belly crawl toward the street, trying to stay under something and out of sight. Suddenly a large strong hand grabbed the back of my jacket and hoisted me out into the open. He shoves me inside the building with the other hostages.

Consfusion. Crying. Blood. Terror.

I stumbled forward and around the corner. There's a large television set up in the main foyer. The news was alerting the city of the attack. A map of the United States was shown, with many little red dots scattered about. These are other cities that were simultaneously attacked. So many.

We were herded into the lower level of the museum, a windowless maze of concrete walls and tiny rooms smelling of mothballs and chemicals. We are searched, our possessions taken. Finally we are assigned a dozen or so to a room, and locked inside.

Time passed, no one is really sure of how much time, weeks possibly months. Without a watch, time was meaningless in that dark windowless cell. We tried to keep track of the days by counting the meals brought to us. But by our extreme hunger, we realized that often days would go by before food was supplied, and then it was nothing more than thin sandwiches and paper cups of water. This ensured we couldn't use a utensil as a weapon or as a means of escape.

I awoke one day to the sound of voices, hushed yet excited. I opened my eyes only to be blinded. If it hadn't been for the sound of reassuring voices around me, I would have panicked. Slowly, my eyes adjusted and I was looking out at blue sky. A crisp, fresh breeze streamed in through a small square hole in the wall, where there had once been a large cork bulletin board. It had been torn off the wall revealing a square, black wrought iron door. A coal chute!

And by this discovery, we planned our escape. Fortunately, no one brought food that day, or they would have discovered our secret and moved us to a new, secure room. As night set in, we carefully opened the door a few inches and took turns watching the numerous guards and spotlights moving about. Once we had the timing down, small groups of us plunged into the night air and ran into the brush. We waited there until it was safe to proceed.

No one knew where we were going, or how much of the city was lost. Like rabbits, we hid in bushes, under fallen rubble, anywhere small and dark. Clinging to one another, in whispers we planned where to run next.

I noticed a sound building, like soft humming. It continued to grow, now the familiar oscillating roar of an airplane. Closer. Louder. Lurking underneath, a second sound, like that of a high pitched whistle. Now too high to hear, although I could still feel it, creating pressure in my ears.

Then a blinding flash of white and searing heat and I was awake, screaming.

I scrambled for the remote control, I needed to reassure myself that it wasn't real, only a bad dream. I needed the comforting sound and color of normality. As the infomercial materialized, I sighed and my body relaxed. It was ok.

For now, everything is ok.

03:09 on September 16, 2001

I have been trying do the things I normally do, daily activities we all take for granted. Things that last week seemed like dull chores, now threads by which to hold on to something stable. Constant.

And it nearly works.

Until I hear a plane overhead. My stomach knots up and I cringe. Frozen. Waiting. Hoping.

The evil we inflict upon one another, will it ever end? This was all so unnecessary.

06:09 on September 13, 2001

Directly behind our building is a three story condo unit. I don't know much about the residents on levels one or two, but I am entirely too familiar with the residents on level three.

The back balcony of this unit is adjacent from our computer room windows. They can see in here as easily as we can see them. We can also hear and smell them. I call the woman, smoking cell phone lady. She's loud, annoying and seems to think she is the all knowing, all seeing computer tech god.

In reality, she is nothing more than a smoking blabber mouth. Emphasis on smoking and blabber. And her computer knowledge is far from above average. Very far.

I'm listening to smoking lady try to explain to our non-english speaking maintenance man, Omar, that he needs to install a lock on our back gate. She insists that not once, but twice, criminals have gained access to her cable internet boxes through our back gate.

"They cut them off with SCISSORS," she screeches. "It cost 45 DOLLARS to have them replaced EACH TIME!!!"

Our non-english speaking janitor says "Not work there. Work for here. (Pointing to our building)".

She continues to monkey rant, cigarette dangling from her lip, insisting that our man Omar install a lock on the gate or she will contact our landlord.

Good luck lady. We LIVE here and can't get the landlord to fix anything! Two months of asking to have the pigeon window repaired has resulted in nothing. Nothing more than Daniel finally fixing it himself on Sunday. Same goes for the missing outlet coverplate in the bathroom, tub re-caulking and everything else in this stinkbox.

Oh, by now I hear your brain churning over and over..what's a pigeon window?

It's a window in our front hall closet that was installed in the 1940's, maybe earlier, it's hard to say since it's rotted and doesn't close. It's also leaky. It was boarded over, but the board cracked, leaving a space between it and the window. A pigeon took up residence in this cozy little space. I won't elaborate on the problems caused by said pigeon, but they were smelly.

So that said, if she thinks she is getting anything done with our gate or anything else on this property, she may as well do it her self, because I guarantee Omar Fantastic won't be taking care of it.

06:09 on September 10, 2001

Samurai Jack

03:09 on September 10, 2001

Vectorpark

This absolutely rocks!

11:09 on September 7, 2001

Iron Monkey!

I have no idea why they are releasing it in theaters now, it's been available on DVD for some time. But I don't care.

I am so totally there!

06:09 on September 7, 2001

I visited my gramma this weekend! She is the sweetest ever! She saw a bug, but could't catch it, so she left a note so we would know it was still about.

06:09 on September 4, 2001