I was in Toronto. I was exiting a rather popular mall, when I noticed that the parking lot was empty except for my car. Soon I also realized that I had exited the mall when it was already past closing hours. Nonetheless, I headed towards my car, hoping to get home as soon as possible. As I approached my car I realized that it had been broken into. I took a look inside to see if anything had been spared, and all that was left was my school bag, which I immediately searched. Inside I found nothing, not even my books, except for a wallet that belonged to my good friend Phil that lived in Toronto. I was angry, and almost immediately concluded that he had robbed my car for some reason, but I decided to drive over to his house and ask him about. I was at his residence in about 15 minutes, and when I asked him about it, he replied that it couldn't have been him, since he gave his wallet to Marlon, another friend/acquaintance of mine. Phil and I headed towards Marlon's house, and when we started asking him questions he became rather agitated. He shot back at us with a few rather rude remarks and then slammed the door in our faces.
And then I woke up.
Such a strange dream. I turned over in my bed to look at my alarm clock (which had failed to wake me up) and I saw that I was already 10 minutes late for my first class. I got my things together, took a quick shower, and drove as fast as I could to see if I could salvage a few remaining minutes of my class, and not get it counted as an absence. I didn't. Damnit.
School has been rather fast-paced even though it's still as dreary as ever. I guess today being the second to last day of class has something to do with that fast-paced-ness. I quickly got done with what needed to be done at school and headed home.
I immediately paged Jack knowing that today he wasn't going to work, and was gonna ask if he wanted to get together and jam. He replied a few minutes later, calling from Mia's house. I instantly noticed the tone of his voice, and when he asked "Did you hear the bad news?", I braced myself for the worst. A friend of ours died. Mind you, he wasn't a close friend of mine, but he was a good friend of Jack's so I'd hang out with him every once in awhile when he and Jack were hanging out. Apparently he died in a head-on collision on Smithbridge road, which I have come to call "deathbridge" road. In the past 10 years, nine people have died in car accidents on that road. Isn't that horrific? And people STILL don't get the clue to be careful on that road. It's very narrow, and very hilly, so any refusal to be as safe as possible increases that chances of getting into an accident, no? Of course, there are genuine accidents. But some of these deaths could have been prevented. A couple of teenagers that weren't familiar with the area where speeding way beyond anything that could have been controllable, and when they reached a hilly part going down, they ended up flying in the air - apparently they took off like a glider of a cliff, just soared into the air - and crashed into someone's front yard. If I recall correctly, the people that lived there said that they thought it was a helicopter crashing in their yard. As you can imagine no one survived. And as for my friend that died yesterday (that's when he passed away at 7 in the evening, sorry for neglecting to tell you) he wasn't wearing a seat belt, and died instantly when he flew up into the windshield. Terrible.
We agreed to meet at Jack's house in about an hour, which we did. We ended up talking more about our friend, and all sorts of different scenarios of people dying when we didn't expect it. It wasn't really fun. Jack informed me that when he drove by the place where the accident occurred, people were out there crying, with a picture of him placed upon a small wooden cross. How sad.
After conversing more to get the idea of death out of our minds, we proceeded into his basement and jammed a bit. We couldn't help noticing the sad mood of each of the songs we were playing, as well as the new songs that we had made up. I guess it's pretty understandable.
I left his house at around 8 in the evening, feeling rather indifferent to everything. My father tried to spark a conversation with me, but I brushed him off, asking if I could be left alone. And I did nothing else for the rest of the evening except tinker with various projects on my computer and lay in bed.
Such is life, no? I think this is number 6, after Jessie.