That Terrible Familiar Fear
July 16, 1968
by Janine Stephenson
Maybe it's because I'm spending too much time alone, but I feel lost right now. It's as if a massive tidal wave is in the distance. People are continuing their lives, taking care of their patch of grass. Sometimes I wonder if they're looking so closely at what's in front of them that they don't see what's going on around them.
It didn't hit me until I went to bed last night. Something ugly is coming. I feel it, and so would everyone else if they just slowed down a bit. It worries me because I don't know who the tidal wave will drown. I can't even tell where it's headed. Are they going to drop the bomb on Hanoi? Is something going to happen to The Senator? Maybe someone I know is going to die. I don't know.
I tried to think of all the awful things that could happen. Then I went through all the people I know and tried to figure out who was in trouble. Because it definitely feels like someone is in trouble. It almost made me call home, but then I was afraid to get out of bed.
When I finally did fall asleep, I had dreams of people on trains. I was traveling the country alone, and I switched stations in Chicago. I didn't know anybody there, but I knew I was on my way home.
I woke up this morning, feeling like I had to get out of Washington. It makes people feel so disconnected, lonely and afraid. All of these white buildings promising so much. Why would they put our nation's capital in such a terrible city?
