Yeah, I felt the same way. And every time I looked out, I got this queasy feeling like a tree limb was about to come through the window and take a nosedive through my eyeball. Here's what I wrote in a blog about it:
By midnight the winds were howling; it was just an indescribable sound. The entire house was boarded up except for a 1/2" x 4' slot on a front window and a 8" slot at the bottom of his back door window. My brother had purposely left the peepholes so we would be able to see outside. Thank goodness he had the foresight to do this because it allowed us to look outside periodically and kept me from getting too claustrophobic. Actually, I'm not sure if it was a blessing or a curse. It may have been better to remain oblivious to the power of that howling wind. Every time I gathered the courage, I would go to the back window, kneel down, and cautiously peek out to look at the trees. Oh. My. Gosh. I've never seen trees bend so much without breaking.
I spent one of the most miserable nights of my life back in December of 2001 when we had an ice storm here in NC; the power went out at 11:30 and it was pitch black and all night long, all you could hear was trees bending, snappy, falling through the OTHER folliage, and hitting the ground with unbelieveable THUDS/SLAMS, shaking the entier house like it was a toy.
Of course, because it was dark, you couldn't tell WHICH tree it was or WHERE it was going to fall (would it hit the house, the cars?).
Even wearing headphones to listen to music didn't block out the noises or the shaking of the ground.
We lost 33 trees.
And the next morning it was like a surreal nightmare; I've never seen anything like it.
And ALL my neighors kept saying was, "Oh, this was nothing; you should have been here for Fran."
No thanks. From what they said -- and what you described -- that sounds way too close to hell on earth for me.