Blue_Opossum

Morning of November 24, 2014. Monday.

Dream #: 17,507-02. Reading time (optimized): 1 min.



My dream starts with a vague backstory of anger in a grocery store or other business. I am unsure of what had occurred. An unknown man with whom I seem to have been annoyed comes out to shake his fist at me. I fly away to relax. I rise slowly, gaining more speed as I fly above the streets.

I land in Northside La Crosse, within a few blocks south of the Loomis Street house. A tornado approaches from the northwest. I walk into a narrow alley with tall buildings adjacent to each side (a fictitious setting). The twister seems sentient as it turns to approach my location, but I feel unthreatened. It cannot come into the narrow alley. The wind is strong but does not harm me. I stand near the end of the alleyway, enjoying the realistic sensations. It eventually “decides” to leave the area to move west up the street. (I am instinctually aware I am controlling it.)

I decide to check up on my relatives who live in the area without recall that most of them had died. The street is instead a bridge of about ten feet high. I walk across it to instinctually vivify my imaginary physicality. What looks like huge cooked spaghetti strands, about the size of sections of garden hose, cover the lawns. They are supposedly the physical remnants of the tornado.

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Before full wakefulness, I recall a comic book story (possibly from “Spooky The Tuff Little Ghost”) featuring a tornado made of spaghetti.

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