10 September 2006
I dream. Mostly I dream about getting some but sometimes my sex dreams are interspersed with dreams I could do without. The dream I am thinking about ran in my doped up sleeping head at the end of August five years ago. When I awoke all I could remember was fire, an engulfing fire. I would have preferred to have dreamt about just about anything else, like working the night shift at KFC with Pamela Anderson.
I am what might be called a borderline clairvoyant so I had to pay attention to the dream. It was as vivid a dream as I had ever had and it was just fucking flames. I changed my plan to fly to New York to meet up with some old pals from England on a business/pleasure trip there. I told them, "I had a dream of fire so I am freaked about flying or doing anything where a shit load of fuel is involved." They understood: Beer, you are one crazy Canadian motherfucker. They think I was hit in the head with one too many frozen pucks. That's a fact.
I also knew the USA was in for a huge motherfucking terror attack. The attacks which preceded 9-1-1 on their properties abroad by Muslim automatons were striking closer and closer to home. It was only a matter of time but I did not think my dream and the inevitable huge fire in America were connected. Like I say, I am borderline.
Once the one tower was hit by a plane I knew the other one was going to be hit too. Pilots are perhaps the most professional group on Earth. Even a drunk one would manage to avoid running into one of the tallest buildings on Earth.
Before they started jumping I knew people would be jumping from 100 floors up to avoid the fire, the smoke and the heat. When it comes to avoiding such things we are no different from insects. I would have been the first motherfucker to jump.
I greatly appreciated the poetic intent of staging such an attack on September eleventh. Arabs are very poetic people. It was the sickest joke ever played in American history.
I love New York. I am, at heart, a New York City Man. But after watching the shit go down for maybe a couple of hours on my tv I went out and took the dog for a long walk. We went to the pub and watched everybody else in the pub babble and watch the coverage on tv. The pub was fucking packed. Nothing fills drinking holes faster than Fear. Not even a Dope City Canuck play-off run.
I do not like where the Warheads have taken us since that day five years ago. And I do not care for what is in store for us in the future. Liberty has been the hardest hit since Osama had his way with New York City. And nobody gives a fuck. It is like The Clash sang, "Hate and War/The only things we have to hate."
I had a dream of fascism breathing fire up and down our streets.