Not in Kansas anymore
Last night, I dreamed about tornadoes. I have had nightmares about outrunning tornadoes all my life, and they usually have the same pattern: I'm in a car/outside when I notice a funnel cloud touching down nearby. I run/drive towards a faroff shelter. I get to the shelter just as the tornado is about to suck me up or drive the various molecules that make up my body through a tree trunk. Then, I wake up, not knowing whether or not I made it safely into the shelter. On occasion, I do get sucked up, and sometimes I actually make it through the storm. It's been a long time since I had one of those dreams, which are loosely translated as meaning that events in my life seem to my subconscious to be spinning out of control. I personally blame my dream on the torrential downpour and monumental thunderstorm that raged on most of last night. Well, that and the tequila.
In my dream, I was driving with my friends Ian and Rebecca from college. I haven't seen either of them in years, but there we were, in Ian's beat up car, driving through the midwest. We only rode together in that car once, I believe, in real life... I had just broken up with a very cold, very clinical man and I begged Ian to drive me to the mall so that I could be around floor tile and people. Unfettered commercialism seems to perk me right up when I'm blue... Rebecca suggested a game of "Try on whatever ghastly prom dress Ian picks out for us" which was delightful, especially when one of the choices that Rebecca was given made her look like an asthmatic cocktail shrimp. But that was the only time that the three of us ever rode together in the gold-painted shitbox that was Ian's transportation.
So, we were driving, and this wall of storm rose up in front of us. Rebecca saw the funnel first and I pointed out a nearby crafts store (which was housed in a barn...very New England-y...here in the midwest, we use our barns for barn stuff, damn it) for us to take refuge in. For some inexplicable reason, the woman who ran the crafts store (think Edie McClurg) took us to her car, which was an intact version of Ian's and drove us back out into the storm. I have a vivid recollection of watching out the back window and seeing doors, livestock and farm implements flying around in the wind disturbingly close to us. Then, suddenly, we were at an elevated train station. Crafts lady parked her car next to a brick building, and Ian went up on the platform to wait out the storm. Suddenly, there was no storm, no tornado and no weather at all. Then, of course, the damn dream got weird. Some pus-faced elementary school gangster burned me with a road flare and I woke up when I punched him in the back.
I am at a loss as to what it means. Any insight would be appreciated.
In my dream, I was driving with my friends Ian and Rebecca from college. I haven't seen either of them in years, but there we were, in Ian's beat up car, driving through the midwest. We only rode together in that car once, I believe, in real life... I had just broken up with a very cold, very clinical man and I begged Ian to drive me to the mall so that I could be around floor tile and people. Unfettered commercialism seems to perk me right up when I'm blue... Rebecca suggested a game of "Try on whatever ghastly prom dress Ian picks out for us" which was delightful, especially when one of the choices that Rebecca was given made her look like an asthmatic cocktail shrimp. But that was the only time that the three of us ever rode together in the gold-painted shitbox that was Ian's transportation.
So, we were driving, and this wall of storm rose up in front of us. Rebecca saw the funnel first and I pointed out a nearby crafts store (which was housed in a barn...very New England-y...here in the midwest, we use our barns for barn stuff, damn it) for us to take refuge in. For some inexplicable reason, the woman who ran the crafts store (think Edie McClurg) took us to her car, which was an intact version of Ian's and drove us back out into the storm. I have a vivid recollection of watching out the back window and seeing doors, livestock and farm implements flying around in the wind disturbingly close to us. Then, suddenly, we were at an elevated train station. Crafts lady parked her car next to a brick building, and Ian went up on the platform to wait out the storm. Suddenly, there was no storm, no tornado and no weather at all. Then, of course, the damn dream got weird. Some pus-faced elementary school gangster burned me with a road flare and I woke up when I punched him in the back.
I am at a loss as to what it means. Any insight would be appreciated.
posted by Unknown at 4:06 PM
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