dream, dream, go away

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Sometimes Flat Stanley dreams of things as they happen. She does not know what this is called. It seems to be some kind warp that randomly connects FS to tragedies that happen on the other side of the world (commercial plane crash, Viet Nam, lots of fire, plane on runway, people crying, rushing, burning, dying) or in the next town over (man goes crazy, spends the night slashing and stabbing his family. They survive.) FS does not sleep with a television or radio on, so the glib explanation "You heard about it in your sleep" doesn't explain it. She finds out by accident the next day, which is even odder, as FS does not tune into news shows.

These dreams leave FS wrung out, running over with sadness, the kind she imagines one might feel if the sadness of others were her own. The sadness isn't only tied to the sorrow of the victims and those who love them, but also to the knowledge that as an observer, FS was staked to the scene able to do nothing more than watch the tragedy unfold and feel the sorrow of others. FS spends the first day after these dreams tearful. She functions at a minimum and gives herself plenty of time that day to cry, because, baby, there just ain't much else one can do with that kind of grief.

The attentive reader will note that FS only cites a few events. Until two nights ago, there had only been three. This is a good thing. Otherwise, FS would be strapped to a hospital bed with electrodes trying to fry the bad feelings from the neural network inside her skull.

Two nights ago, FS watched some school children get off a school bus on a highway running through an industrial part of a city. It was mid-winter. Recent snow had left the highway and traffic coated in the thick gray coat of road salt and grit that replaces ice and keeps the economy going. FS was standing along the road, enjoying the kids and their happy after-school sounds. One group hung back and decided to jaywalk across four or five lanes of heavy traffic which was backing up at the light.

One little guy, maybe 9 years old, got the great idea that he'd duck under a tanker truck. As he scooted under, traffic started moving forward. FS started screaming "Stop!" She had no voice. She screamed "Stop!" again. No voice. FS was screaming at the kid as much as she was at traffic. No one could hear her. The kid got run over. Two sets of double tires. FS ran into traffic to keep others from hitting him again. His brown winter coat was gone, his hat had fallen off. His shirt was torn. He was mortally injured, but his body didn't know it yet. FS held him to keep him from running wildly. She cried. So sorrowful, that this could not be stopped. So sorrowful, the sorrow yet to come.

Anyway. This dream was different. It was just as real as the others, but there was no corroborating story the next day. And, the sorrow, instead of being powerful the first day, then fading, was faded the first day and has grown more powerful over the past two days.

So. WTF? What is the point of being tuned in just to observe? What is the point of feeling that intensive sorrow? What is the point of witnessing an event to which there is no connection? And now, why this change, a dream of an event that does not make the news? That makes it just a bad dream, right? Except for the sorrow, and the incredible depth of detail, it's just a dream, and tomorrow the sorrow will have faded.

Based on past occurrences, FS shouldn't have another dream like this for another five or six years. You all take real, real good care. FS does not want to read about you in the funny papers.
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