The other night I had another dream about tornados. In the dream the twister was about to strike. I was caught outdoors, hunkering down and trying to keep a wayward toddler safe from harm. Alas, the morning alarm woke me just before it hit so I don’t know if we were going to be all right. I frequently dream about tornados. After decades of dream analysis I still don’t have a good explanation of why my unconscious keeps bringing them up. The best explanation is the simplest: I am fascinated by tornados and I wish to see one. This Freudian approach to dreams as all unconscious wish fulfillment is rather disappointing. As a Jungian, I want an interpretation more expansive and numinous; I dislike the notion my dream work is so obvious. But there it is. It reminds me of the time I did a double-blind taste test on gin, in which I discovered I preferred Tanqueray to all the hoity-toity types. Twisters on the brain seem my métier; it is what my psyche likes most.
It’s true I am fascinated by the things. In grade school we could order books through some sort of catalog. One of the first ones I bought (and still have) is “Hurricanes and Twisters”. Oh the joy. I thought then I would become a meteorologist. Like lots of boys (girls too?) I was fascinated by death and destruction by weather or Japanese monsters. The more damage the better. I had a perverse side that I was actually disappointed when a tornado was reported on the TV but no one died.
People who have been through an actual tornado assure me there is nothing fascinating about them. Twisters are pure destruction and I don’t want ever want to experience one. I should settle for thems in my dreams. I just wish I would stop waking up prior to their completion and get it over with.