I had three dream sequences last night. Two of them blended such that the beginning of the second vaguely related to the ending of the first, diverging from that point. One was that I was playing basketball with my brother. I beat him. It was inside, in my living room in the ‘ville, though the ceilings were higher and it was close enough to realistic that he was upset about losing to me. Which he should be, he was a lot better than I was.
It’s the first that really blew my mind though. I was at Grandma’s house. Friends from Maryland where there, including Tim and Adam. It was loosely inspired, I think, by a thunderstorm that I witnessed from Tim’s house a few weeks ago – it was an awesome storm, but no one seemed to care.
Well, this time they did. We were in the garage doing something, when I noted that the clouds were becoming malevolent. Actually, the only time I’ve ever seen a tornado, the clouds did this. I was in high school running on a warm spring morning. Stephen, then running in the modified program, was separately on a run. As we were both near the high school, the clouds became menacing, the air electric. We both knew that something was about to happen, so I, at least, bolted straight for him. Since we’re kind of crazy, we raced straight to the top of My Olympus by the Intermediate School. As the sky swirled and growled, we looked toward town to see a funnel lifting after a brief touch down near South Street by New Heritage.
As the clouds raced by in the dream, I postulated that we’d be seeing hail with this storm. Sure enough, a few seconds later an enormous chunk of ice smashed into the driveway. It looked like a wedge of snow more than a hail ball. Soon after, the entire sky was filled with these hunks of icy frozen snow, shattering explosively against the driveway, sending flecks of ejecta hurling in all directions.
Once they hit the ground, they never really stopped moving. It was almost like they were rewound in slow motion, though in the opposite direction, refracted through some strange mirror into a reality without gravity. After being obliterated on the pavement, they bounced and reformed, then floated. A dozen or so of these 6 inch blocks of ice congregated together and began slowly spinning like an icy proto-planet off into the unknown. These collections of loosely associated ice and snow drifted their way out of view as the cacophony of hail stones continued to bombard the pavement.
Eventually I left the cover of the garage and went outside.
Needless to say, it was surreal.
Shortly thereafter, I was driving down a country road, I think out on Watermelon Run in the outskirts of Lewisburg, surveying the damage. Then I was walking, then I was in a house. I think it was the bathroom of my house growing up on Murray Ave. Spoons were involved.
Words 
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