I had a strange, surreal dream the night before 9/11/2001.
Yesterday -- nine years later -- was strange and surreal as well; I remain deeply shaken after the brush with tragedy.
The weirdest thing about it was that I had just asked my sixty-ish friend -- just moments before the accident -- if she had a deck of tarot cards. "No," she answered, "but I wish I did." I asked if she had a regular deck of playing cards...and again the answer was no.
I forgot about that detail until this morning, and a chill ran down my body; I realize now that it pertains to a one-sided, one-card tarot reading I did years ago for a loved one...against my better judgement, and much to my regret.
It pains me to say so, but that was no coincidence yesterday; the problem with premonition is that you never realize the accuracy until after the fact.
Two years from now -- September 11, 2012 -- will be eleven years later.
District 11. I was born on the 22nd; it's my lucky number, eleven twice. I know it sounds crazy, but I'm spooked as hell.
It's all an omen...and not a good one, I'm afraid.
Watch the movie and feel your mouth drop...about 3/4ths of the way into it.