I had one of those sleepless nights. Ian woke up and padded out to the bathroom to get a drink of water, and I fell back into a series of cat naps. When I was awake at one point, in order to put my mind at rest I asked God to show me some sign that everything was okay.
The dream involved a series of small tornados that were brewing. I was sitting in a house talking to Chris who was seated on the other side of the window in the garden. Suddenly the wind picked up and the trees and bushes bent almost horizontally, but Chris hung on. Then suddenly he was gone. When the wind subsided I ran out to find him. I was relieved to see a blond haired man walking up the hill toward me, until he passed me and I realized that this was not Chris.
I began to wander around the leafy residential streets of our small city. I stopped at a fenced front yard where there was a young mother with a blond haired baby. She explained that the baby had been deposited by the tornado and she didn’t know whose it was. I was overjoyed to find Chris, until I realized that Chris was no longer a baby and this couldn’t be him. Even so, I introduced myself to the woman and explained that I was looking for my son, who had disappeared with the tornado. As I looked behind me, I could see a series of black funnel shapes that had moved on and were hovering over the far side of the lake, their tails touching down sequentially. The tornados were moving away but there was no news of Chris.
I stayed for a few hours with the woman, the baby and her friends (our old nanny dropped by to visit) with the intention of figuring out what to do next. I was feeling very sad. As I got up to leave, someone tapped me on the back. I spun around, and it was Chris! We hugged. He looked a little battered but had weathered the storm and was smiling.