9/11/2011 Dream


It is time yet again to remember the attacks, but we live in a new America. George W. had cancelled the 2008 elections under permanent emergency security measures, and by now all dissent has been put down, and those Americans under the new dictatorship, afraid of being sent to Guantanamo II, have come to accept the new order.


The two main propaganda devices the government uses are threat level adjustments, and militainment, both of which are in store for the crowd assembled for the tenth anniversary of the attacks reenactment.


The twin towers have been rebuilt for the sole purpose of their redestruction today. The crowd is treated to an aerobatics show, with the jumbo jets spinning and rolling fantastically before they crash into the towers. The spectators cheer wildly. In order to recreate the scene of fleeing, terrified New Yorkers, the military police fire tear gas into the crowd, and yell, “there are suicide bombers among you! Your only chance is to run and seek cover indoors!”


The result of the pent up energy of waiting for the reenactment to start, and the surprise threat to the lives of the Lower Manhatten crowd has unanticipated reactions. The excitement makes them horny as hell.


I find myself in a lobby of a luxury hotel with a mullet-wearing former coworker at IBM, and a pair of sexy blonde marketing corporate types. I find out that the older one is the younger one’s boss. The subordinate blonde moves in so her face is 6 inches from the mullet head, and says softly, “I want to be your lover.” I am surprised when they disappear together, as I remember him being unusually devoted to his wife.


I go to the bar for a martini with the supervisor, who tells me, “Thank God I’m finally away from that sniveling suck-up.” We finish our drinks, and she invites me upstairs. We arrive, surprised to find ourselves alone. She throws me face down on the mattress, and flips me over on my back. She climbs on top of me and kisses me forcefully.


Just as she starts moaning and grinding her pelvis into mine, our coworkers arrive, giggling, their clothes and hair disheveled. The boss dismounts me and says, “whew, I need a shower!” I wait until I hear water running, and head into the bathroom. I open the shower curtains and look her soapy body up and down. Our eyes meet. We smile.


I wake up.