I usually look forward to having dreams. Nearly every night I go to bed and pray I get to dream (those other nights I don't think about dreaming, I end up doing so.. go figure). I can remember a few dreams that have filled me with terror, a very heart wrenching dream where I woke up crying, four where I was so moved in the dreams that I could barely keep it together the next day, one dream that has been forever seared in my memory because of the joy in it (in the case I would get Alzheimer's, I wrote it all down), and then there are my tornado dreams.
Call it the curse of the Wicked Witch of the West, bad food, or my mind trying to communicate with me, but I hate tornado dreams. Number one, tornadoes and I have an agreement: They stay in cornfields and wide open spaces (in real life and in dreams), and I don't have to worry about them ravishing through wherever I live, sucking me in and killing all my horses. And family. And friends.
I hate tornadoes.
COSI helped very little. The wind tunnel they use to show how a toothpick can shatter a 2x4 only served to increase my fear, forget toothpicks flying through the air, what about all those 2x4s? Nothing, absolutely nothing, causes me to stop breathing like the sound of tornado sirens or black clouds (yes, I know, green clouds are the ones with the tornado, hush). It's uncanny though, this past fall Columbus had several "funnel clouds" come right around Westerville and where was I? On the balcony, trying to figure out where they were. I had the tv on in the living room with the weatherman urging everyone to seek shelter away from windows, preferably in their basement or bathroom, and there I stood, outside, just eagerly waiting for some action. I think the thing with that occasion was the fact I had only 25 feet between the bathroom and I, so safety was right within my reach.
Right, on to this particular dream. (keep in mind I'm still terrified of tornadoes- in case you missed that)
For some reason I was lined up in a parking lot along a street festival, maybe a car show (#1, what the heck? A car show?), and the tornadoes were just sweeping through the festival at will. My MG sat lined up with the rest of the cars facing the street. At some point my row of cars and everyone in them nearly got swiped away. In the next scene I got a glimpse of the makeshift rescue station and everyone in the cars next to mine and I had our pictures posted on this board with the letters MIA boldly placed above. I instinctively knew that we were being worried over and mourned and knowing that I wasn't hurt at all made me happy and eager to share the news, for some reason however, I couldn't. I managed to survive that particular tornado by putting my car in reverse and backing up just in time. After it passed I moved forward into my spot again. At some point I remember making communication with the people around me and possibly my family, but we weren't allowed to leave our spaces.
Then, at the tail end of my dream and the very end of the storm, this huge F5 tornado came directly at me from the left and while I was trying desperately to get my car to move, it picked up my car and I inside it. Fear instantly raced through me and I covered my face as the B and I were swept around this tornado. It was dark gray inside and sounded as though a million freight trains were driving this monster. While this is all happening, I am still remembering that I might be impaled at any moment by a toothpick, 2x4, or telephone pole, yet at no point did anything strike the car or hit me. I distinctly remember being absolutely terrified and crying out to God to save me. At no point though, did I feel as though He assured me that it would turn out alright. I would hope that being a Christian, I would trust Him even as I face death; this was not the case. While I begged Him to save my life and my car (I guess I really love my car!) peace seemed to evade and even avoid me. "God, God, please," I cried over and over, even shouting to be heard above the roar. I thought of death and knew that I would be with Him should I die, yet no trust or peace filled me. I still remained stricken with terror. I knew, my mind told me so, that He was there, but if His presence was, I felt it not. Desperately I wanted Him to hold me, to soothe my worried heart, and to take care of helpless and hopeless me. I feared surviving this tornado and then plummeting to earth and being shattered to pieces. Terror filled my soul and I wept.
Then, suddenly, my car was slowly eased to earth and came to a stop, hovering inches above the land. I stepped out lightly from the B, my bare foot landing on a cushion even before the car had touched ground. All was well.
End dream.
It seems to me as though I am walking on water right now with my spiritual eyes firmly fixed upon Him. In this test of faith I do not question His existence or desire for me, I am just learning to keep walking, to rest assured that He will provide. This, I believe, is quickly becoming my first real test of Faith: While I may not see Him or feel His presence, I know that I must keep walking, that I can keep walking, and that He will do all that He needs to when His perfect will so determines. This is my tornado.
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