North Korea reaching California?

The superstitious side of me, the one I often deny exists, doesn’t want me to post this, but it’s worth recording. Savannah and I were painting crafty things at the kitchen table. I heard a high pitched engine noise, much like a jet engine, a very low flying jet engine. It got closer and closer. At first I felt a little flutter of concern, but then I saw the entire (picture) window get brighter and brighter. Just as I reached for the curtain to see my house obliterated, I completely panicked inside. By the time I saw the the extra large, ORANGE (bright light) moving truck, I thought North Korea had reached us much earlier than the BBC online had forecasted.

My paintbrush hand was visibly shaking. Savannah knew I’d gotten scared about something, but I managed not to say too much, not ready to explain The Bomb to a 6 year old. She’s already worried enough about the earthquakes we haven’t felt yet. She pressed me a little about why I was scared. I just told her I thought a plane was flying too low. I could tell that she suspected I was holding back, a sign we’ve been joined at the hip for some time.

Am I really that high strung? I figured there were two reasons why I panicked: we’re on a very residential street, somewhat tucked away. (The hotrodders from the high school make it through here only because the high school is within hollering distance.) So I’m not used to hearing big truck engines. Also, and more importantly, I’ve been spooked ever since September 11, 2001. We lived in CT when the towers were brought down, 1 1/2 hours away. Through the weeks following the attack, I had a few eerie moments, particularly hearing Brad’s voice. I was sure he was calling me from the next room, usually saying, “Georgia, can you come here?” But when I went looking for him, he would be at the opposite end of the house, and on the other level, not looking for me at all. And he’s not the type to mess with me like that. I never thought I was crazy, and always knew why it was happening.

Somewhat related, I’ve had a couple of vivid, apocolyptic dreams lately. One dream seemed to be a big arts festival that went south. Someone had put wheels on a chain saw and let it loose into the festival crowd that was already wild. Fortunately, I was watching from high above and woke up more amused than bothered.

We knew a psychiatrist in CT. At one point he was dealing with his own emotions because he counseled so many people in NYCity who were having fallout problems 1 and 2 years later. Knowing how 9/11 affected me, what must it have done to those across the street from the towers? How must those things affect people who live in half bombed buildings in other countries who stay in wars and civil wars? I imagine they have a whole lot more questions from their children, downplaying their panics and fears to keep their children innocent a little longer.

Looking for others with problems from Sept. 11.