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 giant, sharp granite protruding from the earth. I looked down over the city from 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 down with my family behind the mountain, away from any city view. My daughter jumped up in excitement, wanting to go toward 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 at the sky and saw a donut-shaped hole in the clouds. A strong bolt of lightning came straight down toward the city. I hid behind the rock expecting the whole town to be destroyed, but to my surprise, the lightning bolt was much softer, and the city was not destroyed.