I feel pretty sure God said He was going to stop doing that to people.

I love bad weather. I hate flying.

Putting the two together does not help, because the spectrum on which they reside is of equal value. Both haunt my dreams, and continuously.

I’m hoping…against hope I would imagine since we’re entering that stage of the season where thunderstorms lurk around the farthest oak trees, down the highway, and then appear suddenly, from the limb tops…still, I’m holding out that the weather will be nice toward the end of June when I must board a plane and fly to Tacoma, Washington.

For funsies, you say?  No.

Not for funsies.

My thoughts exactly.

For competition. The community theatre I work with is taking a play to Nationals, this year, and those are being held in Tacoma, Washington.  As the director, I have no choice but to get on a plane, and fly to an airport, where I will de-board and get on another plane and fly to another airport.

I’ve already had nightmares, now, for weeks.  We won regionals back in March. We are now in June. That is like, what, more than a week, at least. That much math I can do.

Last night, though, perhaps a shimmer of calm?, I dreamed I was on a plane flying to Washington, and I was actually doing all right. Of course, there were large beds in the plane, and a high ceiling, and a bar, and it was at night, and the windows had heavy curtains that were closed, and so OK, basically, it was a house, not a plane, it was a flying house.  

Whatever, get off my back.

What’s important is that we landed, this time. In Washington. And we had to grab a taxi which was, in fact, a boat with wheels, in fact, eight of them, and it was very cold in Washington; I had no jacket, so the cab driver gave me his scarf, which I never gave back to him.  On the way to the airport, because in my dream I had apparently only flown all the way to Washington to take a taxi to yet another airport and fly right back, I got to see two moose mate.

I guess that’s the way you’d say that.

It wasn’t a real pleasure to watch, but I was rather unable to do anything about it. (Maybe make it an -ing word. I saw two moose mating).

The point is, I made the trip there and back and all was well.

But, if the sky looks like it does today, I may not get on that plane. Even though Lyle says I have to because the ticket’s already been paid for. And, money spent is a big bag of guilt. That much we all know, huh.

(Sidebar: one of my students today told me her initials were B.A.G., and that she didn’t know it was “stupid” until she got an L.L. Bean bookbag that Christmas she was in third grade and there, emblazoned on it were her initials, which, her friends quickly and readily identified as being a word that also described the thing itself. They were smart children, I guess. 

Please tell me that you’d laugh at her, too?)

I don’t know exactly when I became obsessive about bad weather. I’m not negatively affected by it, like my friend Angie, who, no matter what time of day or night it is, will call you every minute of the hour until the storm passes to make sure you’re alive, or in a basement, or a closet, so forth, and so on.

She’s as bad as U.L. Except he calls every minute of the hour, everyday, regardless.

But, at some point, in my tender years, which I should tell you only came to their end last month, I began to hoard, in my subconscious, some irrational attachment to severe weather. The worse the weather, the greater my fear and enjoyment of that fear, I can’t explain it, but it’s that feeling that makes my groin tickle, in a good way. I was a man born in crisis, so I suppose I have an affinity for it.

Never know where you'll find a promise.

Amanda often says what I’ve heard U.L. say before: there’s a safety in the sense of having something happen that is so much larger than we are. To be made to feel small is an equalizer, a reminder that we’re more alike than not. Despite the fact that I heard a sermon once which indicated that we bring destruction on ourselves. I heard that sermon, no lie, at least three times, in the immediate wake of Katrina. I was embarrassed and upset, I couldn’t accept that anyone would believe that.

I mean, I feel pretty sure God said He was going to stop doing that to people.

What I mean to say is after great tragedy, comes the simple reminder that wealth, age, race, gender, status, none of it holds back the Hem of Fate. It drapes without consideration.

As much as I dream about flying and crashing and all the anxieties that come with air travel…I also dream, and a great deal more, of tornados. Specifically, tornados. Out of all the bad weather phenomena.

They’re not on my list of phobias like being struck by lightning (which comes I think from wearing metal rims on my glasses all these years), or ingesting glass (I blame GamVa for this – she gave me a book, when I was very young, about the Roman Emperors and How They Dealt With Their Foes. In particular, the story of Elagabalus and his feeding ground glass to his “invited guests,” i.e. his competitors, really seems to have stuck. To this day, if I’m in the kitchen and cooking and I drop a jar, a plate, anything, and it shatters, the entire kitchen must be put on lockdown and cleaned, glass or not. FYI: I will not drink from a chipped glass, either).

No, tornados are just wild. A fascination, not a phobia. A fear, not a fault.

But, why I dream about them is anybody’s guess.

Mississippi isn’t in Tornado Alley, but we get our fair share of them. I think they probably cause more damage in our state, per capita, than elsewhere. I’m not sure, but for some reason, I’ve grown up in awe of their beautiful devastation. They remind me a little of family reunions…except you’d have to share the basement.

Amanda sent me an email awhile back describing the “meaning,” or “implication” of my dream motifs. Along with tornados, I tend to dream about shoes and feet, a good deal, and almost nightly, about teeth. I was intrigued by the “meanings” these habitual images portray in my dreams, but also, a little exhausted by it. 

Here, read for yourself about tornados:

Tornados
To see a tornado in your dream, suggests that you are experiencing some extreme emotional outbursts and temper tantrums. Is there a situation or relationship in your life that may be potentially destructive? To dream that you are in a tornado, signifies that you are feeling overwhelmed and out of control. You will be met with a series of disappointments for the next week or so. Your plans will be filled with complications. To see several tornadoes in your dream, represent people around you who are prone to violent outbursts and shifting mood swings. It may also symbolize a volatile situation or relationship.

 That’s hardly conducive to a good night’s sleep.

You only got two options.

And yet, I wait, in anticipation, to go to sleep each night…mostly, I should be honest here, because I can’t wait to see where my dreams will take me. I do curl up with some trepidation, as I certainly don’t want to get caught in a nightmare. Last night, for instance, was a close call. I’ve only had a few lucid dreams in my lifetime. So, it’s a risk.

But, as I sit here typing, I hear a soft peal of thunder in the background, and in that bizarre way that bad weather has over me, I feel comfortable knowing that if danger is stinging the edges of these clouds, I’m as helpless as anyone else to it, and so, why worry.

 

No, instead, I’m thinking to myself: I might as well take a nap – what happens is going to happen, either way. So, if you’ll excuse me…I need to brush my teeth and settle into the couch…because I’ve got a tornado to catch.