Dream 9/11/2017
I've traveled back in time. I don't know how or why. I end up at my high school. In the gymnasium, the school body is having a pep rally. On the gym floor, three or four different teams of dancers are performing.
I walk into the dancers, trying to find a microphone. Once the dance is done, I finally find one. I grab the attention of the school. Silence befalls the gym. I tell them that I am a time traveler and that there are a few things they need to know. I tell them about September 11 and the terrorist attack. After I tell them this, I wonder what day I've come back into time. I ask the person next to me what the date is. She tells me that it is the year 2002. Ok so, 9/11 already happened. What else can I tell them.
I begin telling them a personal story of a boy that goes to this school. In 2005, he will drown. I want so bad to prevent this from happening. While telling of this tragedy, the school becomes very quiet. The boy whom I speak of is sitting in the bleachers. I finish my time travel speech. I go to my locker and grab a bunch of time travel items and then leave the school.
When I drive away, it is night. I don't know where I am going. I find myself on country roads. Off in the distance, I can see lights from a town. I head that way. I drive down the streets of this small town. I see a shop called, "The Witches Brew." My mom is now with me. We drive on a track that leads us into an old building. It is an attraction. Like a theme park ride. Many cars are behind us on the ride as well. We drive through the old building and finally exit.
My mom and I stand in line on a street. I don't know what the line is for. In my hands is a soda bottle. I throw it. Unfortunately, it hits a boy in my sister's class named Wes. He is very angry. He walks up and down the line of people, trying to find out who threw the bottle. I am drinking Diet Coke. At this time, a cop is taking my fingerprints. I don't know why. I haven't committed a crime. Wes walks over and looks at the fingerprint page. He says, "looks like the same handwriting." What? Did I write on the bottle? How would my handwriting give me away?
I look around me. The line of people is gone. I stand in the dimly lit street and feel alone. I don't think I have ever felt a part of anything. I just have the hardest time connecting with people. I walk down the street with no real intentions. No clear direction. I look into the windows of shops and restaurants, watching the smiling people live their lives. Dream ends.
I wake up
I've traveled back in time. I don't know how or why. I end up at my high school. In the gymnasium, the school body is having a pep rally. On the gym floor, three or four different teams of dancers are performing.
I walk into the dancers, trying to find a microphone. Once the dance is done, I finally find one. I grab the attention of the school. Silence befalls the gym. I tell them that I am a time traveler and that there are a few things they need to know. I tell them about September 11 and the terrorist attack. After I tell them this, I wonder what day I've come back into time. I ask the person next to me what the date is. She tells me that it is the year 2002. Ok so, 9/11 already happened. What else can I tell them.
I begin telling them a personal story of a boy that goes to this school. In 2005, he will drown. I want so bad to prevent this from happening. While telling of this tragedy, the school becomes very quiet. The boy whom I speak of is sitting in the bleachers. I finish my time travel speech. I go to my locker and grab a bunch of time travel items and then leave the school.
When I drive away, it is night. I don't know where I am going. I find myself on country roads. Off in the distance, I can see lights from a town. I head that way. I drive down the streets of this small town. I see a shop called, "The Witches Brew." My mom is now with me. We drive on a track that leads us into an old building. It is an attraction. Like a theme park ride. Many cars are behind us on the ride as well. We drive through the old building and finally exit.
My mom and I stand in line on a street. I don't know what the line is for. In my hands is a soda bottle. I throw it. Unfortunately, it hits a boy in my sister's class named Wes. He is very angry. He walks up and down the line of people, trying to find out who threw the bottle. I am drinking Diet Coke. At this time, a cop is taking my fingerprints. I don't know why. I haven't committed a crime. Wes walks over and looks at the fingerprint page. He says, "looks like the same handwriting." What? Did I write on the bottle? How would my handwriting give me away?
I look around me. The line of people is gone. I stand in the dimly lit street and feel alone. I don't think I have ever felt a part of anything. I just have the hardest time connecting with people. I walk down the street with no real intentions. No clear direction. I look into the windows of shops and restaurants, watching the smiling people live their lives. Dream ends.
I wake up
