To make this all more terrible, wifi and cell signals were still, somehow, working in Vegas. We could see, from survivors, glimpses of the horrors happening there, though never clearly enough to say for sure what had occurred. And soon I knew that friends of mine were stuck in Vegas, and unlikely to escape safely.
So I and the other people still in the safer city were pretty f'ing discombobulated. Hotel staff, as if they were saying "Screw it," had rolled out into the lobby food and drinks for all of us, including beer. At what felt like early morning. Hell, how early were people drinking the morning of 9/11?
The dream was so involved that I woke up today briefly convinced that it was a continuation of a dream from the night before. I checked and, I'm thankful to say, it wasn't.
I don't usually have nightmares. Since I dream so vividly, I count myself very lucky that this is usually true. This was close to one. I'm still shaking it off. I'm writing it down to, perhaps, wrangle the dream enough into shape that I can get a handle on it. And that, I hope, the dream doesn't continue another night.