I can see it whipping across the landscape, and I’m looking for a secure place to hunker down– somewhere with deep-rooted trees– I find a funny little sort of decorative tree corral and climb between the fence posts– at first I’m not sure I’ll fit and start to panic– but I wedge myself into the tight space created by the trees and the enclosing fence and wait, watching the horizon for the funnel cloud, willing it to come for me. it’s meandering around the landscape, and I’m ready for it. I don’t know if my spot is secure, but I know there’s only one way to find out. others are fleeing in cars, but I just wait and know that it will eventually come, sweeping everything up in a cloud of black dust. and then it’s upon me. and for one sickening instant I can’t be sure but I seem to be lifting… and then, no, I’m just sticking, enclosed in a surbrisingly bright and quiet vacuum– and I hear a single pop or click and then it’s over. I realize afterward that it was the tick of a clock.
I discover an entire wing in my grandmother’s cabin that I didn’t know was there– it seems to be occupied, but I can tell whether it’s currently occupied by cousins I don’t really know or if it was left like that, midstride, years before. I’m examining the objects lying around, trying to determine if they’re very old or not, and I can’t seem to tell. I’m nervous about getting caught snooping.
I end up at the funeral of a thrash rocker by accident– I’d meant to go to an event in a different part of the same building– and it’s a strange and sad ceremony: all kinds of hype and perfomant, a kind of tribute to the life of the guy, but from my outsider perspective it all seems to pointless and kind of pathetic– and I feel bad for judging them, and I’m trying to sneak away when I run into the organizers who are promoting the event and are trying to ensure everone attending gets into it– finally I slip away, grateful for the escape.