I was with my family on top of a large mountain that ran north to south along the eastern edge of San Francisco. The mountain was like a large, sharp piece of granite that protruded out of the earth. I looked down over the city from a height of three or four thousand feet. The sky was very dark, almost black with clouds. I knew that judgment was coming to San Francisco. To avoid the wrath, I crept with my family down behind the mountain, away from any view of the city. My daughter jumped up in excitement wanting to go towards the city. I tried grabbing her, but she would not come back. Finally, as if by the hand of God, she turned back to me. I looked up at the sky and saw a donut-shaped hole in the clouds. A strong bolt of lightning came straight down towards the city. I hid behind the rock expecting the whole city to be destroyed, but to my surprise, the lightning bolt was much softer, and the city was not destroyed.