On that morning 25 years ago, the one that changed America, my young daughter Amelia awoke from a bad dream of people encased in a bubble. When it burst, they fell from the sky.

I remember reassuring her that everything would be all right. A few words, a hug, a favorite book and a bowl of cereal can do wonders for a child's sense of security. For most of the rest of us, maintaining that equilibrium would not be as easy as we watched our world come apart on television in the largest terrorist attack on U.S. soil in the nation's history.

In the days that followed, as the smoke of destruction at the World Trade Center and the Pentagon lifted, and as a field outside Shanksville, Pennsylvania, became hallowed ground, the events of Sept. 11, 2001, came into focus. The names al-Qaida, Osama bin Laden, Mohamed Atta and others seemed to enter every conversation. Nearly 3,000 people died in the primary attack, and thousands more died in the ensuing years due to exposure to the toxic atmosphere created in the destruction of the World Trade Center towers.

In Las Vegas, news reporters developed leads that brought the terrorists' presence close to home. I worked sources and discovered that in the weeks leading up to the attack, hijacker Atta had twice stayed at a two-story Econo Lodge at 1150 S. Las Vegas Blvd. practically in the shadow of the Stratosphere Tower. It was no coincidence.

As the days passed, we learned that at least one of the hijackers scouted Hoover Dam and that some of the co-conspirators appeared to have picked up money and accessed an internet café during their stay before Sept. 11.

And there was the news that bin Laden family members, minus their estranged brother, had been living the VIP life on the Strip at the time of the attack. Quickly cleared by the FBI, they were allowed to leave the country.

My friend Don Cherry, the singer and former professional golfer, lost his son Stephen Cherry that day. The 41-year-old husband and father of four sons was working in his office at Cantor Fitzgerald on the 104th floor in the North Tower when the hijacked American Airlines Flight 11 slammed into it.

Then there was University Medical Center emergency room physician Dr. Michael Brown, whose brother New York Fire Department Capt. Patrick "Paddy" Brown was already known as a hero on the morning of Sept. 11. He was killed after running into the north tower, one of 343 first responders to die that day. Many hundreds more would suffer devastating injuries and related medical maladies due to toxic exposure.

Michael did what brothers do. He rushed to find Paddy. Brown worked for days at ground zero as the rescue effort reluctantly gave way to one of recovery. His brother's remains were discovered that December, but of course they gave no solace. The awful hole in the ground left even bigger holes in countless hearts.

Brown returned to work, but his health was ruined by the inescapable toxic dust at ground zero. He battled prostate and bone cancer he believed was directly connected to his exposure. He died in 2020, but left a record of his experience in the form of a moving memoir, What Brothers Do.

The outpouring of grief heaped around the Statue of Liberty replica outside the New York-New York Hotel & Casino on the Strip made international news. The tearful crowds, piles of bouquets, T-shirts and hand-painted signs reminded the reeling nation that, at least for a while, we were all in this together.

Since 9/11, the United States has spent trillions of dollars in the name of fighting the global war on terror. In that time, we have managed to lose thousands of American military members and see approximately 1 million combatants and civilians killed. Depending on the metrics used, some estimates place the death toll at more than 4.5 million.

We have lost more than soldiers and first responders. We have also forfeited precious freedoms and privacy in the name of security. A quarter-century after experiencing one nightmare, we are awakening to another in what many see as the rise of a surveillance state that poses a far greater threat to our liberty than any band of foreign extremists.

I have written versions of this story every few years for more than two decades. I've repeated the story of my daughter's dream and other anecdotes from that awful time now 25 years in the past. I expect I always will.

In many ways, our national nightmare continues.

John L. Smith is an author and longtime columnist. He was born in Henderson and his family's Nevada roots go back to 1881. His stories have appeared in New Lines, Time, Reader's Digest, Rolling Stone, The Daily Beast, Reuters and Desert Companion, among others.