What is weird about this is that I had the dream on September 6, 2001. What is stranger still is that I wrote the dream down on a scrap of paper which I had misplaced until September 10th. And so, that Monday night, I stayed late in my office typing it up.
In his Sense of Being Stared At, Rupert Sheldrake relates several similar experiences -- during the five days before the attacks, Manhattanites had prescient dreams or other premonitions, most involving planes, buildings and/or terrorists. And in most cases these dreams were not typical of the dreamer.
"Oh, I bet New Yorkers have nightmares about dust and skyscrapers all the time!" scoffed my hyper-rational cousin. And they may -- but I don't. And I know this because I have been writing down my dreams since 1996.
A quick word search reveals that this was the only dream of its kind that I have had in the past 15 years, which puts it out of the realm of statistical coincidence and squarely into The Twilight Zone.
In his book, Sheldrake describes "a kind of collective unconscious that allows members of a species to draw from, and contribute to, the collective memory of the species."
But does how could this apply to future events?
Well... I haven't the foggiest, other than to consider more strongly that there are, indeed, more things in heaven and earth -- and perhaps those things like to reach us through our dreams.
But you tell me... Submitted for your approval is my 9/6/01 dream, complete with action movie heroics at the end.
Oh, I am such a product of my culture....
I’m in a post-apocalyptic Manhattan – the Earth’s atmosphere is completely covered in choking dust. (There is also something about a probe that was sent into the deeper reaches of the Milky Way which will soon return bringing either information or more destruction.)
I go into a one-room apartment in a high-rise (possibly mine), though it seems more like an office building. Scott is sleeping on the bed. He is remarkably blasé about the state of the world. There is a lot of dust in the room as well, so he suggests that I turn on the air conditioner to clear it out. I am dubious at first, thinking that the air conditioner couldn’t possibly work because teh power is down, but it does.
As the dust clears, I look out the window and see many office buildings with quite a few lights on. How can there be electricity? I thought there was practically no one left… Are the generators still running? I figure that I should just stop questioning and use the electricity while we still have it.
A very attractive young man enters the apartment.. The three of us go to the lobby of the building where many other survivors are gathered. Panamanian terrorists have blasted a giant hole in the lobby and are announcing that in this “new world” they are claiming America (and hence New York and all the buildings in it) as a territory of Panama. They have not yet seen me, so I slink up a staircase to an inner balcony overlooking the atrium.
A little ways in I find an unmade bed and a female friend crouched beside it. The terrorists announce that they are going to tear-gas us out. I realize that even though gas is everywhere it’s not affecting me. Puffed up with my apparent superhuman abilities, I go down to the lobby and tell the terrorists to get lost. They turn their weapons on us and, in true superhuman form, I telekinetically rip their weapons away from them, condense them in a ball above their heads, and then smash the ball into the left wall of the room. Then I blow the terrorists backwards, which sends them out of the building screaming.