|| drunk again
It had been snowing. She was sitting in a room that seemed to be a porch or front room that faced a huge picture window. Then she couldn't see out into the world, it was all white and she saw, closer to the window, where the rain was pelting the snow. The temperature had fallen and now it was raining, which made sense, as the white that stole the visibility was just the steam resulting from the rain hitting the snow. Then someone, it was probably her sister, shouted, "Whoa, look at that!"
The "that" was something that looked like hail, but regular, shaped like the mini-marshmellows for hot chocolate, and they fell to earth. She looked up as one the size of a haybale rolled down the street as if it was just a puff. It couldn't have been that she actually opened the door to scoop up one of the things up, but she must have because she was holding one in her hand and it disintegrated into white grit. She was facing forward, where she couldn't see but knew the ocean was, out there, in the white.
Red and orange broke through as something bright streaked down to the sea and she knew at once it was a meteor as it exploded. The shochwave would come, she knew, and she wondered if the building she was in was in the blast range. All she could think was, "I'm about to be obliterated. I'm about to find out what death is really like." The shockwave came and shook the house but they lived. There was more, for example being in the upstairs computer room from the house in Wallingford and wanting to call her best friend to see if she and her family were ok, and her father telling her not to go out, because the space radiation might still be in the air.
CHALLENGE: Take a line from a song you like, match it up to the narration of a dream you've had. Have fun, write drunk.