Dreams of Storms
I often dream of storms. Secured in a pressurized tube while cruising through the tropopause, watching a storm is like watching a dramatic silent movie…flickering black and white images appear and disappear in the darkness of our theater, the music in our heads and the irregular cracks of static on the radio, the only soundtrack. All this makes for a surreal experience. Raw energy, exploding into the night…Dramatic visions without sound, threats without audible indications of danger. The flashes of light emanating from the sky remind me of other places and other times when we watched the light swell from below, lifting earth and making clouds…again surreal and distant, another world…not to be forgotten, forever the fuel of dreams.