Naked
Written by: BandE
He was standing in the sky lobby on the 102nd floor looking out over the city. He was naked. Not a stitch of clothing. He felt very uncomfortable-especially when his friends and colleagues at the brokerage house walked by and spoke to him, always maintaining eye contact, never looking downward. Awakening, he remembered every detail of the dream that plagued him, night after night.
He had mentioned the recurring dream to his wife who thought maybe it was because he was up so much during the night with the baby. Sarah was just two weeks old and seemed to never want to sleep at night. His constantly interrupted slumber probably was why the dream kept happening, reasoned his wife.
Standing there at the window today, during lunch break, he studied his clothed reflection and wondered why his naked dream reflection was sexless. It was as if his crotch had been airbrushed out of existance. His shrink said it was because of a deeply rooted feeling of helplessness. An inability to control events happening or about to happen .
He began obsessing over the “what ifs” of life. What if Sarah got sick in the middle of the night? What if his wife was attracted to another man? What if he didn’t get that pay raise and they couldn’t get a bigger apartment? What if his subway train got stuck underground and he missed a meeting?
He began to sleep less, tossing and turning much of the night. Still, when he did get a bit of sleep, the dream returned. Sleep deprived, he felt that the quality of his work with the firm was slipping. What if he didn’t get that promotion? Thoughts roiled around inside his head as he stood in the sky lobby looking out over the city. He noticed the planes in the distance, coming into, or taking off from, the airport west of the city. He imagined a plane somehow releasing him from all the worry, the “what ifs, the life pressures, the disturbing naked dream.
That night, after dinner, he held his wife very close to him, breathing in the fragrance of her hair, her skin. He told her how much she and the baby meant to him and that if his job review went well tomorrow, how they would be able to get a bigger place. One where Sarah could have her own room.
The next morning found him on the way to work early. He had to be at the office before 8:00 a.m. This was the one day he didn’t want to be late. No lame excuses about things like subway delays.
Hijacked Flight 11 hit the building at 8:45 a.m. that morning, just below the sky lobby where he took his morning breaks. The plane, with a full load of jet fuel, exploded and incinerated everybody and everything. No one on the floors above survived.
Television was showing the second building collapsing when the phone rang. Removing a protesting baby Sarah from her breast, her trembling hand held the phone to her ear.
“They’re gone. Everything gone…My friends… The office… The twin towers … All gone. There’s just a blizzard of dust flying everywhere. We had to climb through heaps of debris to get out of the subway station. If our train hadn’t been delayed…” She could barely hear his choking, sobbing words against the background of sirens.”I should have been with them. It was out of my control.”
They slowly walked, along with many other families of the victims, away from the site.The memorial service had ended. Ten years after the attack, new buildings were rising on the footprints of the destroyed ones. Sarah turned and said ,”C’mon Mom, let’s go home. We’ll sit in my room and have tea. You can tell me again about the dream you had that night after Dad died. You know, the one where he called you from the subway station.”
