We're on the interstate heading either to or from Atlanta in a school bus full of kids. I was a freshman at the time, very close to his younger sister. The bus was loud in the way that buses are when filled with kids and barreling along a highway. Things were blowing around inside because everyone had a window cracked. I remember looking back at Jamie and some of the older guys. They were the older, bright kids that I admired; I looked up to them. So, there in the din of the bus, Jamie sat in the rear with his friends, talking and smiling.That's the one image that keeps coming back to me.
My Dream
Obviously, the tragedy of this event is haunting me. The other night, I had terribly strange dream that, in it's own way, helped me deal with it a little better.
In the dream, I'm again working at a software company with my colleague, Scott M., we're teaching a big class to what seems to be an auditorium full of people. I don't know, we could've been at a convention or something. I remember hearing the R.E.M. song "Fireplace." Anyway, some sort of commotion breaks out. Unsurprisingly, it makes us question our lives, identify those things which we hold so dear that we'd sacrifice ourselves to protect. He talks to me about his kids, all four of them, and his wife. Those are the things for which he'd die without any reservations. Then, he started talking to me about living a good life, the life you want to live not necessarily the one you're living. If you love what you're doing and die doing it, things are OK.
I don't know, I woke up comforted by Scott's words. Even though they occurred in my sleep, I don't think they're terribly different than something he'd tell me over lunch.
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