Last night I started doing research for a project I'm doing to honor the victims of 9/11.
I was assigned Fred Cox, an investment banker who worked on the 104th floor of one of the towers of the World Trade Center.
I chose Fred because he's a friend of a friend of mine, and she knows one of his former girlfriends, so I e-mailed her last night to ask if she wouldn't mind sharing whatever she wants to with me about her friend and her loss.
After that, I started researching Fred on the Internet. I found a lot of information about him (I'll share it later, as it won't get published until 9/11 of this year) in various memorials, and found some info on his girlfriend at the time of his death.
I went to bed with Fred's life and his family's loss heavy on my mind and in my heart. I only knew one person in real life who lost a sister in the Trade Center, and I didn't know her very well and had never met her sister. The thoughts and feelings surrounding his loss swirled around me as I thought of the profound hole he's left in the hearts and minds of those who loved him.
I ended up dreaming about Fred last night. We were in Heaven, and it looked a lot like Greenwich Village in New York City. Fred was going door to door while I waited on the street, as he encouraged all the people to come out and talk to me. I realized at some point that I wasn't here on Earth -- that each door he was knocking on belonged to different victims of 9/11.
I tried to tell Fred that they wouldn't be able to call me or e-mail me since they were dead, but it didn't seem to bother Fred. I was there visiting, and he figured he could get some people out to talk to me.
It's hard to know what to make of the dream, except that the few things I picked up on from Fred was that he was a good guy who was just trying to help me out with my project.
I only hope I'm up to the task of honoring him as he so richly deserves.