August 23, 2003 – Dream #1

I had a couple of strange dreams.  In the first I was riding shotgun in someone’s car, east on Atlantic Street when the tornado siren was activated.  Now, whenever something like that happens you never know how seriously to take it, because you aren’t used to tornadoes just popping up.  Yet, this was one instance in which the alarm was not sounding in vain, for traveling directly towards us on the road was a little black tornado.









This was peculiar because it was not one of those huge, towering tunnels – it was probably only 20 feet high.  I recall cursing and saying, “Oh, sh*t,” which is somewhat strange as I choose to abstain from colorful language generally.  Then I buckled my seatbelt.  I slumped down in the seat so I wouldn’t have to watch, but consequently missed the action.
The tornado passed over us, doing nothing more than lifting the car slightly off the ground.  We pulled into the parking lot at Walton Park and saw another tornado coming over the pond.  Now of course we all knew that when a tornado is present you get out of your car, but we were all way to scared to get out and run for it.  This I suppose is a bit of commentary on how I would behave if I were in a car during a tornado, and it makes sense – I probably would prefer the illusion of safety that comes with sitting in the car.
Well, eventually I got out and crawled into a big drainage pipe for cover, but it was rushing with water, which made it strange (you know from the rain storm accompanying the twister).
I suppose I survived since I’m writing this now.  I’ve never had a single dream that involved me or anyone else dying – have you?
Head home, honcho --->