I am in a house in the mountains. I am a comedy writer and I'm helping a man friend of mine be a comedy writer. We are free associating and brainstorming. Now, someone looks out the window and sees a stick of lightning and I wonder if the storm is coming close. It is. I see a thick funnel cloud develop on the ground. The top poofs out powerfully and it's a twister. The man is intrigued. He wants to know more. "OK," says another man, "but look out." The storm maker, a pixie-like man, comes out of the storm. It had traveled over to our hay mow. He offers the comedy writing man, now the father, a ride. He takes it. This is magic time. Off they go on the thunderous, rolling cloud, a muddy brown color. Now I am alone in the house, with a couple of grown sisters and a brother. They are off doing something. I see outside the storm has brought birds and animals made out of ice. An ice turkey buzzard comes into the house. He's mean and tries to peck things. I light a match and try to melt him. It's a very puny effort, but it does force him outside. I see a sweet ice puppy and try to melt it. It likes it. I feel bad about doing it. I go in and then see the tiny baby kitten. One has gone outside. I don't want to go out, but I do to rescue the kitten. It is fat and cute. I get it and run back in the house. The sisters and brother are back and I yell, "Quick, shut the door!" I yell that over and over as they are slow and unconcerned. My father is on the phone asking how we are and I'm telling him what's happening. Then we're all back in the house. One sister is an architect, another is some other important professional, and the brother is too. They are working on the problem. The architect asks for a computer file on LaCisine or something, a famous architect. This research might give her enough historical background to solve this problem.