I was driving down a smooth limestone road, grass crowding close on either side of my car, a blue Ford Taurus sedan. There was a storm raging all around me, and my road ahead dived into a forest, where the trees very often crowded close to my car.
When I entered the forest, I could still see the grey sky above me, weaving between the branches of trees that reached over the road. Lightning struck nearby and often, and heavy tree limbs started falling around me.
Sometimes, they would fall a few feet to one side or the other of my car, sometimes they would fall with branches covering part of the road, but I always had barely enough time to swerve around them; slowly at first, but the faster, they were landing on the road itself, but even still, I always had room and time to swerve around them.
Thunder endlessly shook my car like an audible earthquake, and the lightning felt like is was getting closer.
Finally, a bolt struck immediately beside my car as I was dodging around the right side of a fallen limb. I steered under it before I could adjust, and it hit my car, not as a flash like lightning should and gone in an instant, but as a crackling beam, from just in front of my right side-view mirror to midway along the backseat passenger-side door before the lightning let my car, and then was gone, again behaving like lightning ought.
I walked into the auditorium late, the storm and its energy still echoing in my head, through the left side rear door on the upper level, as facing the stage, and the person on the stage at the mic saw me.
"How kind of you to join us, Ace."
I walked to the left-middle aisle (there were 2 aisles, dividing the seating into thirds) and down a few rows, before sitting in the seat (empty, now filled as I sat) at the end of the row. A few friends of mine sat in the row below me and beside me (to my right), and then turned and smiled, or patted my shoulder and said "Good to see you."
More happened, including something recognizing me and my group of friends, but I don't remember any details.