I am inside of a school bus, part of which has been converted into an RV type space. I am clutching my newborn daughter to my chest - she's wrapped in a thin, white blanket. I look out the window of the bus and I see a massive storm in the distance and watch as a funnel forms and a tornado starts ripping across the ground. The tornado is thin and moves quickly, whipping this way and that. I wonder if there might be any houses with basements nearby, but I don't think it would be safe to run out there with a baby and start knocking on doors. I decide to do my best to shelter in the bus. I don't imagine the tornado could pick the bus up, and there's not a whole lot of material for the twister to pick up and slam into us. I look around for a safe place to shelter and I see a little boy about 2 years old in the bus with us. I realize that he's my son. I hold the baby and cover them both with my body in as small of a knot as possible. The storm passes. At a later time, I am holding the little baby girl and the little boy is playing energetically, basically bouncing off the walls. Marie, Michelle, and Anne are with us in the room. I think to myself, "That little boy is wild as hell, but at least I also have this sweet little girl." I look down at the bundle and see that it's just a bundle of blankets, there's no baby. I realize that I had imagined her. I say, "Well, I imagined her, that's pretty weird! But I'm so grateful for my little boy!" I lift my head up and see everyone looking at me silently with pity. I look over to where the boy was playing and he's not there. Marie tells me that she's grateful that I've finally realized that the children were only in my head. I know in that moment that they had all been tolerating my insanity, and I feel embarrassed at the charade they had had to maintain.
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