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Scary Nightmare by David A. Thompson I had a bad dream last night. I was a second grader riding home in a yellow school bus. As the bus stopped for a drop-off, with its red lights flashing, suddenly a black SUV swerved around the bus, clipping the front bumper and almost hitting kids crossing the street. The bus driver swore loudly at the SUV driver and gunned the engine, taking off in hot pursuit. The older kids in the front of the bus cheered the bus driver on, as they buckled seat belts attached only to the front three rows of seats. The bus pursued the SUV at high speed down city streets, swerving around corners, creasing parked cars, and blowing through yellow caution lights and stop signs to catch up with the offender. Most of us in the bus were getting really scared. Some started screaming, while others cried. Only the big kids wearing seat belts were laughing and egging on the bus driver. Many of us smaller kids, sitting in the back of the bus with no seat belts tried to get a grip on something, anticipating the inevitable crash and flipping of the bus. Most of us realized, in an accident, we would be thrown around like popcorn in a popcorn popper. We began to give up hope that we would escape unscathed. I thought about staggering up the swaying aisle to see if the driver was dead, drunk, or crazy with road rage…and somehow stop the bus before anyone got hurt. Suddenly, I felt so small and powerless, realizing I did not have the power to overcome the driver nor the big kids who were enjoying the chase. I just hung on tighter waiting for the crash. Suddenly, the SUV driver made a mistake and placed himself in the crosshairs of the school bus intent on ramming him. The bus driver mashed the accelerator to the floor, smashing full force into the driver's side of the SUV, pile-driving the vehicle through a department store window, killing and injuring innocent bystanders in the store. The bus flipped over, with kids ricocheting off walls, ceiling, and seats in the bus, landing crumpled and bleeding in odd positions in the bus. Only the bus driver and the big kids, who all wore seat belts, seemed unharmed. Somehow, I survived the crash with only some cuts. Wherever I turned I heard screaming, shouting, and crying. I smelled gasoline and quickly kicked open the back emergency door, yelling for others to follow. As I stepped out of the rubble of the store, I heard sirens and saw emergency vehicles arriving. In the minutes to follow, I watched the injured and dead being removed from the scene. The driver and passengers of the SUV were dead, as well as a number of children on the bus and many more shoppers in the store. While the police sternly questioned the shaken bus driver, the big kids who were cheerleaders for this "adventure" quickly disappeared into the crowd to avoid questioning. One of the officers took out a Breathalyzer kit to check if the driver was intoxicated on something. Others asked, "what were you thinking about, risking all these kids lives to chase after the SUV?" Soon an angry crowd of parents and bystanders became threatening and officers quickly whisked the bus driver away from the scene for his own protection. Suddenly, without a storybook ending, like so many dreams, I awakened with a start. I didn't need a therapist to interpret the dream. I had been thinking the night before about the impending war with Iraq and the President's pursuit after Saddam Hussein. All of us are trapped in the bus that is going to ram "the guy in the SUV," which will injure and kill a lot of people in the process. Except for a few powerful cheerleaders, protected by position or wealth, most of us feel helpless and scared, bracing for a bad crash that will injure all of us in some way. Yet, unlike that dream, we can still do something about the outcome. We can still wake up, let our voices be heard, and take action for peace before it is too late. If war comes, we can become the moral conscience for a nation that has lost its moral compass and needs to find its way home to values that make our country great. We can provide comfort and support to those who surely will mourn the loss of loved ones in this world gone mad with hate, terror, and revenge. God help us to be effective peacemakers and truth-tellers in a world filled with war-mongering and lies. May we remember the ancient words from the Bible: "Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons (and daughters) of God" (Matthew 5:9). Rev. David Thompson is a retired U.S. Navy Chaplain (Commander) who served with the Marines in the Persian Gulf War. He now is in private practice as a professional grief counselor with New Directions Counseling & Consulting in Bloomington, Minnesota. He recently co-authored a chapter "Meaning-Making in the Wake of Public Tragedy, " in the 2003 Hospice Foundation of America publication, "Coping With Public Tragedy," edited by Ken Doka and Marcia Lattanzi-Licht. |
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