Volcanic tornado
I don’t remember much of my dream, but I do remember it was a tornado dream with a twist.
I am living in the home I grew up in most of my life, where my tornado dreams first started. This is a place that I often return to in my dreams, but when I am there, I never recognize the dreaming.
It is dark outside. There is a threat coming. I must go inside. I hear the noise I always think I hear in my dreams: the train, or described once to me as 100 lions roaring.
But it’s also very hot. I look at a small mountain or hill near my yard and there is a towering pillar of lava like a tornado, twisting into a funnel, from high in the sky.
It lights the sky with a sickening red tinge, flickering against the cars parked in the yard.
The danger is real, but I don’t know that I’m scared. I know that if I go inside, I will be safe.
I find myself thinking, as I always do, that my tornado dreams finally mean something. Even paired with a physical impossibility.
How often do you have these tornadic dreams? Whenever I have these kinds of dreams, it’s usually when everything in my life is chaotic and out of control.
I recall you writing about tornado dreams before. Interesting that inside is “safe” and you know it, as if these disasters can’t touch you inside. Is that how it usually is, or do you sometimes fear they will invade the safe space too?
I can’t find any regularity in my tornado dreams. I have them every few months, perhaps?
Chaos could be one good indicator.
And as Dawn suggests, there is always an element of safety. I am almost never frightened by the tornadoes. Usually fascinated by them. But there’s sometimes a kernel of common sense that tells me to seek safety.
Perhaps this is myself telling me to seek safety from the chaos in my life. Or perhaps it’s just my old friend tornado coming to visit, to let me know I still can have vivid dreams.