interpretation

I wake from a dream of tornadoes. I have seen dozens of funnel clouds in my dreams since I was a child, when a terrible twister ripped apart a large part of Xenia, Ohio, just half an hour from my house. In this one, the building I was in--some sort of large residential dwelling, among other buildings in a smallish city--was hit, the roof destroyed, but I was safe, as were the people I was with (who? was he one of them?). And I called my parents to confirm that Bobby and Stella, who were staying at their house, were fine too--their house had escaped the storms also whipping through that area.

He tells me that he dreamed he was getting on a small airplane and I was the pilot. He had been assigned a seat in the back, but was waiting outside for the other people to get on because he knew that he could get a seat closer to the front, since he knew me.

There are storms whipping up in both of our lives, maelstroms, monsoons, hurricanes, at times escalating into tidal waves and cyclones. He is in the middle of some particularly heavy weather at the moment; am I trying to make sure I am safe? Does he see me as guiding him, "piloting" a craft to a far-off destination, away from the strife he faces here on the ground? Will his knowing me make his journey more comfortable, bring him forward to face the future from a better vantage point?

Skies are so murky at times like these. I am trying to ride the waves--of fear, of hope, of disappointment, of love, of loss. I am trying to learn how to pilot my own plane in such a way that my passengers are comfortable and safe and can "relax and enjoy the flight," as the captain always says. Right now I am hoping this other dreamer will be along for the ride, and I'm waiting to see where we're going, dreaming, looking to the horizon, remembering to breathe.