girl at large

Even if the bedroom window had not been open, the thunderstorm earlier this week would have woken me. It was a huge, booming monster of a storm–at one point, the thunder following the lightning by only one second–it was right above the house. I was dreaming when it began, and as the windows rattled from the wind, the storm became intertwined in my dream. As did Buncle Tom's midget story told the previous afternoon. Correction: Buncle Tom's FAMOUS midget story. The story is not famous, the midget was.
Back to my story: in my waking and yet still dreaming mind, the storm was Dorothy's tornado, whirling with Oz characters including aforementioned midget, all wielding menacing commercial table legs.