Alma and I were talking about the ten planes that went missing and how planes always skipped off radar but how our country was expecting an attack of this nature, so this time they made sure it was reported to us. Bad move Mr. Bush. They put it in the news as 10 planes missing by 5 a m. All but one were found.
Alma and I agree that that last plane was carrying bin Laden's family away from a Carlyle Group assembly... http://www.hereinreality.com/carlyle.html held in the Ritz Carlton in Washington D.C.. They forget that some of us don't forget. About that day, I even remember what happened in the Japanese market. This is a dream I wrote for a writer's challenge having to do with 9/11. Please go read this. I'm beginning to believe our president's father was involved while his son sat for seven minutes or more at a little grammar school after he was told what was going on. I once thought that no American could ever do this but Bush Sr. works for this group of war profiteers.
Excuse the form here as it won't copy paste from the book I wrote into this blog. Know that at times I'm known to have dreams which come true. This is one such case. Notice that the terrorist was George (Bush?) Seagull (plane?) and notice also there were two men (two towers?)
An Unordinary Beginning by Chelle 9-11-2001 3 am
Mom called back from the door. “Quick, They are here.” I ran to the garage. All I could find for our protection were blankets. I could hear them at the door. They never knocked but they came and went as they chose. All of our weapons disappeared with our men and sons who were thirteen or older. There was no time to feel sorry for myself. My youngest son had run away hoping to free his father and brother from the hands of the terrorists who had once been our neighbors. With blankets draped over us, Mom and I made our way down the designated escape route. Until now, we had never stepped a foot at its entrance. We had no idea what waited for us on the other side. We could hear the voice of the evil man who called himself "George" Seagull above us in what was once our thriving home. Today he would find no one to rape or threaten.
The ground and walls shook violently. Mom’s nails pierced my arm as she steadied herself. Just as we emerged into the next chamber, the passageway behind us collapsed. The force of the debris propelled us into what felt like a dungeon. Our blankets protected us while the soot and dust settled on us.
“Mom. Take a look at this.” The man in the cart to the left of us had a knife in his chest. “He looks like one of us. Someone has murdered him. I wonder who.”
With a mighty roar of heavy metal against concrete came another cart out of the wall, riding atop a steel beam. In the cart was a dusty clump. It felt as though we were in the belly of aship about to go down. “Mom, is that a wrist watch on an arm?”
“I don’t know, Sharon, but that’s Mr. George Seagull.”
“Hell no it’s not a watch. That is a detonation device flashing!”
Gasping for air, drenched in swamp-like sweat, I woke from a vomit of terror. I tried to call out to my husband but the roof of my mouth held my tongue hostage. My heart’s beating simmered down a notch when I realized that this had all been a dream—the third of its kind this week. The clock’s golden light whispered 3:32am through the blackened morning. With intent on capturing the details of my dream, I got my diary and pen. Alone in the living room, I began the new entry-- Sept. 11th, 2001
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