Morning of April 30, 2015. Thursday.
This was an extraordinarily beautiful dream in every way even though it was about numerous tornadoes. The mood and essence of the imagery was near-ecstatic and the vividness was of the type where it seemed like a real environment in almost every way. It even colored my mood to where I feel a residual joyous nature and optimism.
In the first part of my dream, my family and I are living back on Barolin Street. We have different neighbors (the houses also being closer together than in reality) and across and parallel to the street is only a set of elevated railroad tracks about as high as a one-storey house and about fifteen feet from the street (the rest of the area being just grass). At first, there is a point where I marvel at the wind and its sound. It is a very strange and eerie sound but I am not concerned and in fact feel quite joyous when walking into the living room where my family is. I notice the neighbor's curtains are blowing nearly horizontally out at least one open window. (I am mostly only aware of the neighbors to the north.)
Looking outside from the front porch later to check on the weather, I look to the south and see a few very light gray tornadoes forming. They are rather small and thin and soon seem detached from the clouds above them and seem both transparent and shiny. They follow a path on the other side of our street, moving in our direction. I start telling my family about the tornadoes but they do not seem as if they will cause much damage or go directly near our house (even though one clips the porch later in my dream). Even the wind they produce is not really that strong even though the sound is clear and loud. An unknown person (not a neighbor) sees me on the porch and as we talk, he says they are crayolas and not tornadoes and therefore supposedly not nearly as dangerous. However, large tornadoes do seem to be forming and going by us on the opposite side of the street. The imagery is mysterious and beautiful and it seems to be nighttime at this point.
A neighbor comes over and begins talking with me about the unusual weather (he seems concerned about what to do) and I mention that there are more tornadoes coming. He seems a bit confused and slightly annoyed and says that he is from New York and had not lived in Australia very long. It seems odd to me that he does not know at all what tornadoes are or what they look like. Although he is friendly, he seems a bit frustrated with our communications over time, not seeming to know anything at all about the region or the culture.
At one point, I notice what looks somewhat like a white squarish airplane on the ground across the street (more to the north) and point it out to him. I notice and describe the yellow and black diagonal lines on each side of the back area. About six or seven men are around it, seemingly picking supplies up from the ground and checking the vehicle. I soon realize that it may not be an airplane but some sort of rescue truck that went off the road. The imagery seems rather ambiguous. More tornadoes pass. One of them goes right across the front of the porch but does no damage.
For several minutes, the weather seems to calm a bit, but then I see another tornado moving alongside the elevated railroad tracks (but still touching ground) and making a loud clacking by pulling at the railroad ties and overall structure, much like the sound of a train moving over the tracks. This seems amusing to me and I even mention this to the neighbor. (I have heard in real life that a tornado sounds like an approaching train.) When I look out again later, I notice that a train has been derailed and is very close to our porch, the yellow caboose (hanging at about a twenty-degree angle) seeming suspended on a portion of ruined railing and debris to the left of the porch door. This part of my dream changes though, as it is not there later on. (I get the impression that I will mentally throw it to the other side of the street though I am not yet lucid.) An ambulance goes north at one point, very clearly and loudly.
At one point, I notice a female and about four or five of her younger children, who are apparently trying to escape by going north of the main tornadoes. At one point, they are lying over the street (heads mostly to the north) on their stomachs but not badly injured. I converse with the mother about what is going on and if they will be needing any help. It seems they will be okay. More tornadoes are coming, all of them beautiful and with almost "musical" howling.
I watch for what seems like a very long time. Even though I thought it had been nighttime at most points, the sky is eventually blue with white clouds to both the north and the south and it then seems to be "suddenly" late morning. However, weird dark clouds, almost like hands and fingers (each finger being a thin tornado, growing longer and sometimes at an odd angle), quickly form out of nowhere and the sky goes very dark again. This seems very strange and beautiful to me, but I start talking about how this cannot be normal weather.
At this point, the neighbors to the north (the unknown male I had talked to earlier, now with his wife and at least three children) come out and we all eventually go into my backyard for some reason, probably over concerns of our houses being destroyed. The male asks me why my wife and I had impersonated him when they had first moved in, seeming a bit amused but also frustrated (and slightly condescending in a religious or moral sense) about our behavior towards him. I have some sort of false memory to my dream's back story (which had not actually occurred to my knowledge) that we had mimicked things he said in the manner he said them. The idea of saying "imitation is the sincerest form of flattery" to soothe his possible dislike of my family comes to mind, but I do not say it aloud.
In the last scene, I finally start to become lucid. I start to say aloud in my dream that it is a dream because the sky, as well as the weather in general, could not be like this in reality. I look to the south and see the dark clouds forming a penguin shape as if someone was making a crayon drawing in the sky. Other unusual cloud patterns occur, mostly to the southeast. "This is a dream," I say to the other male's wife. For a short time, her body becomes invisible as she is walking while her head floats along in midair. My family remains of normal appearance as we are walking around while I point out the impossibilities of the patterns in the sky.
Even though I am lucid at this point and my dream remains as vivid as it had been since the start, it is not a full lucidity, but skewed with faulty reasoning. I know for certain that I am in a dream yet also have this clear idea that everyone else (equally "real" as I am in my dream) is in the "same" dream. Right at the mental threshold of the contemplation of turning this into an erotic adventure, I wake instantly, probably because my dream had already been extremely long at this point. Still, upon waking, I feel joyous, healthy, and energized.
