DREAM ELEVEN

I’m at my parent’s house, peering outside the back porch door. The wind is picking up something fierce and the sky is filled with dark, foreboding clouds. The four tall pines that boarder our modest lawn bend down like old men. I am aware of the mounting danger and instinctively I know that I need to walk two blocks to the only building in the neighborhood with a solid basement. It’s my old preschool. It’s called Peace Church. I am traveling these two blocks with my mother. I am responsible for her safety. We get into the alleyway behind our house and that’s when I see a tornado touch down. This first one gets really close to us. I pull my mother’s arms around my waist and tell her to hold on while I grip the trunk of a tree. Our legs fly out from under us and for some time we are like a kite caught on the base of the tree. The twister gets very close and spits dust in our eyes, but then it capriciously spins away. We continue to move down the alley and cut through yards, dodging tornadoes all the way. Eventually we make it to our destination.