Tornados

Weird dream last night. Probably wouldn’t have remembered it if it wasn’t for Smokey waking me by standing at the mini sitting room landing just outside my bedroom suite and barking loudly.

I keep a beautiful shillelagh and other thick rustic carved American walking sticks sprinkled within arm’s reach throughout the house – like Gomez Addams cigars – so I can easily retrieve one in case of an emergency. Trust me when I tell you that a nocturnal intruder at Casa Claire would much rather die quickly from one of my 9mm rounds then to be beaten to death in the dark by a shillelagh by this grumpy old bastard. I can also deliver a more measured and less terminal response, should I feel more compassionate. Finally, it is also less likely to wake the neighbors and appear on a police report.

So, last night I leapt from my weird dream and by the time my real feet landed beside my bed, the night table shillelagh was already in my hand and I was following Smokey, now joined by Bandit, down the stairs. They raced silently around and through each level of the house, including down to the basement level, while I followed more slowly and deliberately, checking all of the doors to make sure none were surprisingly open. All secure.

I let them out though the basement door and they took off in two separate directions, Smokey heading back towards the barn and Bandit out towards the front of the property. Now my Beagles only bark when they sound the alarm and then when they confront whatever it is they come face to face with. Their pursuit are like silent missiles racing after a target. So, when I didn’t hear any barking, I figured there was nothing to worry about and just continued to check the house as I waited for them to return, which they finally did, both panting from a well paced run.

Those silent moments gave me a chance to review the dream I was having when woken.

It was one of those Category Five Tornado dreams. The ones where you can see a huge pillar of dark and angry wind crossing a large flat geographic expanse, heading in your direction. And you could hear the constant and building roar as it approached.

I’m guessing it was percolating in my subconscious all summer with all the very cool thunderstorms and hail storms we’ve been having.

https://www.facebook.com/tom.mccaffrey.233145/videos/1446359619940367

https://www.facebook.com/tom.mccaffrey.233145/videos/1090418736518410

https://www.facebook.com/tom.mccaffrey.233145/videos/2059774791216870

And we must not forget the regular and powerful wind storms that form the exclamation point in The Wise Ass.

https://www.facebook.com/tom.mccaffrey.233145/videos/1394242828326314

As with all of these kind of dreams, everyone around me is desperately trying to convince me that we have to flee. And I am, in each and every case, stubbornly refusing to abandon Casa Claire and Claire and Honey. The people around me are quite understandably getting more and more pissed off at my recalcitrance. I wave them off and then join C & H in their barn. Awaiting whatever is going to happen. C & H seem very calm upon my arrival, so I look out one of the windows towards the direction of the advancing tornado, and it has turned from one of those horrible blackish towers that you saw in the film Twister, into a black and white line drawing version of the same, like you would find here – https://www.google.com/search?q=line+cartoon+drawing+of+a+tornado&sca_esv=18be89dfcaae8ca6&rlz=1C1SQJL_enUS895US895&biw=1920&bih=945&sxsrf=AE3TifMWGZbxSYqaGQwrv_B_FGg1xti1Qw%3A1754998672037&ei=kCebaOKGApammtkPnNbKqQQ&ved=0ahUKEwjijrbDl4WPAxUWkyYFHRyrMkU4HhDh1QMIEA&uact=5&oq=line+cartoon+drawing+of+a+tornado&gs_lp=Egxnd3Mtd2l6LXNlcnAiIWxpbmUgY2FydG9vbiBkcmF3aW5nIG9mIGEgdG9ybmFkbzIKEAAYsAMY1gQYRzIKEAAYsAMY1gQYRzIKEAAYsAMY1gQYRzIKEAAYsAMY1gQYRzIKEAAYsAMY1gQYRzIKEAAYsAMY1gQYRzIKEAAYsAMY1gQYR0iEFVAAWABwAXgBkAEAmAEAoAEAqgEAuAEDyAEAmAIBoAIGmAMAiAYBkAYHkgcBMaAHALIHALgHAMIHAzItMcgHBQ&sclient=gws-wiz-serp

And I didn’t even get to shout “fuck” as in “What the -” when Smokey’s bark pulled me back to consciousness. Maybe he was pissed that he and his brother didn’t make it into my dream.

Anyway, the dogs returned just as I finished my second tour of the house, and I stared at Smokey, wondering if this was just an ingenuous ploy to go outside to pee. He refused to meet my eyes, and then both dogs sprinted back up the two long flights of the internal stairway to the bedroom suite, like climbing a fire escape. When I finally reached the bedroom, the dogs were huddled together – yin/yang style – on the center of the bed besides the sleeping Lisa.

Needless to say, I wasn’t able to return to REM sleep, so I tossed and turned for an hour and then got up for the day, and went out front to get some moonlight grounding in.

Casa Claire can be eerie in the moonlight.

I also fed Smokey the cat while I was out front, all the while pondering the windy dream. Best to multitask.

Anyway, all I can deduct from the nocturnal vision is that I am forever tied to this property, and nothing natural will ever drive me away, no matter how threatening or frightening.

However, the Sun now rises, so I have reality to face.

You fine, five readers wash down the last of your toasted everything bagel and head out for your Tuesday. Monday, like Claire in this photo, remains visible in the rear view. You know you can never leave either behind.

And no matter what we get up to, or even what dreams may come, let us all make today a great one.