Swirling Green and Roaring Silence

A week before my parents told my brother and I that they were getting a divorce, I dreamt that all four of us were standing in the front yard under a orange-pink sky. There were hundreds of tornadoes coming towards our house and there was nothing that we could do. We all stood there, separate from one another, each of us pointed in a different direction. We had to look over our shoulder in order to see the others. I don't remember dreaming of any sort of impact. I don't remember any one of us making much of a sound. All I remember from that dream is standing there, waiting, and being terrified beyond belief.

My dreams have always been slightly, um, creepy. I have dreamt of things that have drug themselves into my waking life with startling accuracy, sometimes to the point of which I am five seconds ahead of the oncoming scene, and dreadfully uncomfortable about it. I never spend too much time delving into what could be my next prophetic night time excursion, but I do pay attention to certain occurrences in my dreams, and most importantly how I deal with them. I am no soothsayer beyond that of what women naturally possess, I am however a firm believer in symbols, but particular to individual psychology. Tornadoes fascinate and scare the living hell out of me. They are the force of nature that places a primal terror in my bones. You don't know they are coming until it's almost too late. Your only salvation is huddling under a mattress in a bathroom or packed in a closet on your knees holding on for dear life. When I dream of tornadoes, these connotations do of course become cliff notes to the overall interpretation.

I dreamt of a massive beast of a tornado the other night. It was black and evil, spewed smoke and chewed up everything in its path. I was dodging every turn and twist that it made until I thought that I had gotten ahead of it for a moment. The road was closed and I tricked the cops, fleeing into the darkness that was between me and the road my mother lives off of. I heard the police shouting and scrambling to find shelter. For some reason there was no wind where I was, my feet were still on the ground, I was aware that I was fatally close to the tornado. When I finally plunged through the darkness and reached her house there was not a leaf displaced, a shingle gone, nothing was wrong. I stood there and stared up at this monster, swirling green, and roaring in absolute silence above the property. Not one sound. It was then that I realized this was not our tornado. This tornado belonged to everyone else.