Last night I had a dream that didn’t make sense until I spoke it out loud. Here is what I recalled:
There was a “hurricane” coming. This seemed to be the word that suited it best. In the dream what it referred to was a really windy storm that was going to blow through town and destroy anything that wasn’t tied down.
I was talking to a blonde woman around my age outside of a room that she was preparing to hide from the storm in. I felt a growing sense of anxiety about the coming storm, but I was also excited. This was how I felt when I was eight years old and we were having a picnic in the park with friends, suddenly the sky turned sepia toned and the wind whipped everything off the table. Four children and 2 single mothers.. we ran back home, clutching what we had salvaged and heard on the radio that a tornado was ripping through town.
I wanted to show the woman that when a storm of this magnitude is around the corner, it has an effect on gravity. I jumped up and slowly soared to the ceiling. There, I showed her how to crawl on the ceiling before gracefully floating back to the ground. She was unimpressed and not interested.
She began telling me how she was going to hide people inside of the room in front of us. The house we were in had a grand feel to it, dark oak, carved moldings, high ceilings and wall sconces.
I noticed that it was a incredibly tall, dark, heavy polished wood door that would shut them up in the room and while I felt that it provided some measure of protection, I felt that it wasn’t enough.
I explained to her that the best way to escape the hurricane was to hide underground. Basements, cellars and the like.
She disagreed. It was then that I noticed that right outside of the room, there were two incredibly tall, grand mirrors, side by side on the wall like the number 11.
“Those are unsafe.” I pointed out. “I mean, they might be screwed on to the wall really well but when the hurricane comes through, they could fall and injure someone. Maybe even kill them. Best to hide underground until the storm passes.”
That is all that I remember.
Why the hell would I dream about a hurricane? I remarked, when recalling this to J and as soon as I said it, the answer came to me.
Have I ever mentioned my mother’s name here? The spelling was unique but aptly suited. Her name was Gale.
