i talked to grandpa. <BR> I remember being respectful but at ease. A good sense of humor pervaded throughout. We were in an apartment that he lived in. I didn't see grandma anywhere. <BR> He paused, reflecting. I had been thinking about how much older than I he was. He said, "I still feel like I just turned 24." I said, "Yeah, so do I." He laughed and that made me happy. <BR> Later I asked him if he had ever been in any wars. He said, "I was close to one once, through my own foolishness." Then as he narrated, the scene shifted so I was actually there, walking around in the story he was telling. There was a younger, rougher version of him, in an old green car with some kids in it, one of them presumably my dad. <BR> "I was drunk..." he said, and we were all walking down a sidewalk in a small, rustic town. Ominous clouds filled the sky. He was mad about something, and wouldn't let us stop walking even though several tornados were forming all around us. Then the funnels struck, and where the touched the ground, fire and sparks danced. Like tracer bullets, I thought. <BR> The fiery contact points chased us all around. "It was a lesson from god," grandpa concluded. <BR> In the dream, he didn't look like he did in this world: his nose was longer and he had hair. Also this sentence popped up as I was waking: Velvet might be creative. (Or was it "could be..."?)