Dream is Over

It’s ironic that Eric’s car radio was playing Lennon’s song, ‘#9 Dream,’ seconds before the two cars crashed, as all of the words filled the air. “So long ago. Was it in a dream, was it just a dream? I know, yes I know Seemed so very real, it seemed so real to me Ah! böwakawa poussé, poussé, Ah! böwakawa poussé, poussé, Ah! böwakawa poussé, poussé.”

Same street, different day, and an eon of time seemingly passes through a mini-second of breathing. Right before your eyes, the world as you know it, channels through an upload of galaxies and every universe becomes a mirror to see into. Yet, it only takes a fast glance to see that all of the reflections have faded away. The dream is over.

Eric looked at his wrist watch and saw that it was morning, 9:09 a.m. and he intuitively knew he was soon to die. No sooner had the west bound pickup hit his southbound Chrysler, it was finished. Everything that could have been more than a mere living wish loses the flicker. A young boys life is abruptly put to an end.

The story has it that old McDonald didn’t have a farm or a tractor to plow. Folks in town said that the 89-year old man was a mystery soul and a quiet river. Yet, William was a lot like Eric Dundee, the 17-year old drummer boy, and their lives were parallel. Sadly, the old man wasn’t the only one on his way to his grave on that day and no one knows why.

For a few seconds longer, Lennon’s song played on, “On a river of sound Thru the mirror go round, round I thought I could feel (feel, feel, feel) Music touching my soul, something warm, sudden cold The spirit dance was unfolding.” Eric didn’t think to ask the spirit dancer to save him. The fact is, his last bit of thinking had everything to do with finding his mom.

No sooner had the music stopped that the dancers ascended into heaven, right along with Eric J. Dundee. No words were ever spoken between the young boy and the old man. William’s truck rammed into the passenger’s side of Eric’s vehicle and the two men were killed instantly. Both the vehicles had flipped over numerous times, landing in the front yard of strangers who weren’t even home. Was anyone ever at home anymore?

Same street, different day, and the clock reads 9:15 a.m., as a small crowd gathers

on 14th Street, somewhere in the heart of Philadelphia, as the deceased bodies are

looked at and examined. “They are both gone,” someone cries out, as the police are called in and life moves on. Yes, time moves on but the dream is completely over.

An eon of time seemingly passes through a mini-second of breath, inhaling and exhaling Lennon’s “#9 Dream,” coloring a billion moving pictures into the heart

of the world. The young boy’s mother left him years ago and the old man’s own son

had died without cause. It seems both the men were headed for answers on the very day that took their lives forever.