I was with a woman in a modern little home. She was confused, running around the house naked and showing me how she had her navel pierced 20 or 30 times in a dark ring of multiple hoops. I felt sad for her.
I looked out the window, and saw two funnel clouds approaching. They were very tall and very skinny, well-outlined, extending from a small tip on the ground up into the high clouds.
I turned to the woman and told her to secure herself somewhere in the home because of the approaching storm. She didn’t know what to do. I braced myself in a sturdy doorway that my father-in-law had made. I knew I would be safe there.
The storm came upon the house, and it grew extremely calm and serene. I knew the cloud was maybe a mile wide, and that we were swallowed up in that, but it seemed not even slightly dangerous.
Instead of a flurry or gust of crazy wind, the air turned kaleidoscopic. Everything was mirrors of light and rainbows, fractals of beautiful things reflected from the very room itself. All was still. It felt too still to breathe. The woman was afraid, and sobbing. I told her to be still, so the storm wouldn’t find her.
The eye of the tornado entered the house, like a guest, through the front door. It was a tall, slender, swirling whirlpool of light and reflection, like the spiral aperture of a camera, made of air and light. It was hunting us down, slowly floating through the rooms. The house was a disco ballroom with all the light and swirling air. All seemed so peaceful and beautiful, and still I remained as still as I could be. Then the funnel cloud left.