Night of August 18-19, 2009

I remember looking at a topographical map with Mama and seeing a tiny mountain-type formation in north-western US. I asked her what it was ans hse said that although she doesn't know, it should say. Sure enough, on the map, when I put the cursor over it, it said “Point 1” on it as well as “Route 1”. As I zoomed in, I found myself actually there. It was a place for daredevils, adrenaline junkies, and tourists who want to go to places that don't have gift-shops. It was on the coast and looked like an island that a lighthouse would be on, although it was a mountain or hill on the cliffs just next to the Pacific Ocean. There were constant howling winds that lashed up the spray from the water and crashed it onto this precipice like a wave. On top of this, sat a lonely, broken, red London triple-decked bus. It was stupid because there was no way of actually really getting to the third level without climbing out the windows on the second level. I knew it was a bad idea but I wanted to go on top and sit inside the bus. It was missing at least one wheel and it rocked back and forth like an unbalanced desk. Although its condition suggested it had been there forever, the bus looked like it could slip off its mountain home and crash into the ocean any second. I looked at my map again and, like a 3-D Google Earth, could see the bus there. I zoomed in even further on the bus to try and figure out if it was stable enough to sit even for just a minute or two. Like before, as I zoomed in a lot, I suddenly found myself actually sitting inside. I was on the third level and could see the ocean out of foggy and cracked windows. Near the back of the bus sat a woman who looked out the window blankly as though it were actually moving. I got our of the bus (one way or another) and walked down the path leading away from it down the hill the bus was sitting on. I was on a quiet suburban English street with nothing unusual on it besides the fact that as I looked back, there, sitting where maybe one or two houses would have been was a big hill of slippery black rock and on it, the bus. Kids as well as their parents were climbing on it like it was a playground when suddenly a man told me they shouldn't be up there and a medical helicopter was coming to take anyone who “will get hurt in the next few minutes” to the hospital or at least help them off the bus. The people on it were all either parents around thirty years old or they were their kids whom the oldest was no more than seven. A helicopter landed and an Indian man (from India) came out and inspected the surroundings. Although I tried to explain to him to urgency of the situation, he just stared at what was happening then looked around at other stuff too. He began rambling on about something but because he was obviously of no help, I went back to the bus. People were climbing onto the bus from the balcony on the second floor of a house next to it. A woman, maybe twenty-five, held her baby over the edge and attached the little jacket it was in to a hook on the outside edge of the balcony. I recoiled in horror and was about to yell but she shook her head and I could tell she wanted me to be quiet for just a moment. Desperate, I turned to see if the Indian man was seeing this but instantly I heard everyone gasped. Before I had even turned my head back, I knew what was happening. I ran as fast as I could to where it was falling because it was only maybe ten feet away. Diving, arms outstretched, I woke up in a sweat.