the countless next


I dreamed about tornadoes

at least once a week

for years.

I haven’t in a while, though.

The vast majority were grim, panic-imbued, and notably in greyscale.

In one, towards the end of the series, I realized I dreamt and willed my mind to turn the vortex into something else. It became a great, colorful, flowering tree. This remains my only so-called “lucid dream”.

In the last of the dreams to-date, I felt certain my wife and I would survive the storm.

I don’t miss those dreams.

They did not allow for rest.