Always A Tornado

There was always a tornado in the top left side of my brain. Only my brain was encased in glass, not like in a museum show case. No, not like that. It was more like there was a group of people in those seats that are enclosed in a glass box at a football stadium.

And they were all there, watching the sky instead of the playing field because there was a tornado twisting toward the part of the glass window that would have been my left frontal lobes, if, you know, my brain was not organic material, but the box seats at a violent sporting event.

The tornado dreams leave me feeling drained; exhausted but wide awake at 3:00 am.

In the dream, it was the worry that wore us out.

All the people in the box seats were ragged with worry because the tornado never hit the glass. It was in a locked formation of imminent doom.

No one can live like that for long without becoming tornadic.

What is the solution to such chronic stress?

Waking up.

How does one know when they have awakened?

What do you think?

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