Hugo had the wind tunnel dream several more times before he found himself on the roof of his building, lighting a cigarette. Each afternoon he’d woken up and his room had been more of a mess. This morning his nightstand was halfway across the room, one leg splintered. There were several small dents in the wall and the corner of the nightstand was banged in. There was no doubt about it, the nightstand had been flying around the room.
So he could make things move around. But how did it work? Did he have to say a magic word or something? He watched the smoke from the cigarette drift outwards and estimated the wind speed, and then really wished it would go faster. It didn’t. In the dream he’d simply stood there, enveloped in the winds, not saying a word, a smile on his face. Maybe all he really needed to do was focus.
Hugo didn’t really believe in chi, but he’d been taking Aikido classes with his brother since he was nine so maybe...Hugo glanced around, making sure no one could see him, and then he knelt down, placed his palms on his thighs, closed his eyes and breathed. Instead of emptying his mind, he focused on the sound of the wind and the scientific logistics of a tornado. His scarf started slapping him in the back of the head. Hugo opened his eyes. Pebbles and dirt on the blacktop, along with his cigarette, were rolling quickly off the edge of the building. He looked across the street; none of the trees lining the road were moving. He’d done it! The wind slowed back to normal. So it wasn’t a permanent change, he had to concentrate on it. His heart was racing and he started laughing. There was no reason for it, he just felt really good all of a sudden, like everything would be alright. He started to practice.