More than that. Gale winds crashing. Slashing through ideas as if they had no lashings. Concepts held once concrete, mutilated by shredding force like a time-lapse mountain erosion. Shape takes form and holds a moment, perhaps quickly but in slow motion, before the mind blasts fierce and cold like the north wind, smashing from every angle with dashing force.
Then flashes. Flutter of eyelashes as concepts burn through ocular cavity and directly into the skull. Too quick for the eye to react. There is no protection. Later inspection may show the mind's own cunning direction guiding these lavish bolts of brilliance. The dry corners of the mind catch fire, burning wild and free, as winds wax and wane in strength; blaze blown here and there at the winds whim till every useless bit of brown is scoured clean.
A dark rich windswept scene of fertile. Soil soon to be planted. Soon to be gleaned.
Torrential rain. Clouds bursting like a busted water-main. (Don't brave this storm if you've got a lame brain. Brain strain will be your only gain. I'm just say'n) Life-giving-water soaking dark parched ground with roaring sound.
Flooding. But not faster than green ideas bursts forth. Dark soil splits as emerald, and jade spires thrust themselves arrogantly skyward, with branches sprouting random and prolific. Rushing flood waters gushing with every bit of force against those foundling tender concepts. Some wash away. Others grasp firmly by firm roots, bending maybe but struggling upward still.
Finally, storm having passed, the sun can shine bright and strong. Every lasting plan and scheme stretching toward that glowing disk, fighting no longer, but thriving only.