In high school, I would have this recurring dream. It would start with my mom and I driving on the freeway– which is strange because in my town you almost never need to drive on the freeway. It would be silent. And then, my mom and I would look up and realize that obstructing the road is a tall gray wall. And there was no time to stop, and we were driving too fast, and so we just held hands and waited to feel the crash. But it never came. Instead, we were greeted and consumed by a thick layer of ash. Eventually the smoke dissipated, and we just kept driving. Most likely I would have this dream because when my mom was 12 or 13, Mt. Saint Helens erupted. From time to time, she’s told me small pieces of what it was like to live through that event, but…