Blue_Opossum

Morning of May 29, 1965. Saturday. (Memorial Day weekend - age four.)



In an odd “twist” on comical partial precognition (which has been very common for me throughout my life), I dreamt (semi-lucid) at age four, in Chipmunk Coulee in Wisconsin, that my father drove us to the “edge of the world” just beyond the end of a road that just stopped. There, a thin red devil (with a narrow beard) danced with a pitchfork in an almost comical way (as in the “Hot Stuff” comic book with “Grandpa Blaze”, who often looked different, though), but there was concern that nothing else existed beyond that area beyond the fence and gate (assumed in my dream), where he lived in a grass hut or haystack? or some such, that was always catching on fire and needed to be put out by a team of chipmunks somehow (water-filled nut-shells?). The world would have just a smooth cliff-like drop and nothing beyond.

In real life, the same afternoon as the morning of this dream, my father got directions from someone mixed up, and ended up driving down a road that actually did come to a sudden end and he talked about the “end of the road” - which, in my young mind, caused me to contemplate that it was as far as one could travel in that direction (south). A thin farmer with a pitchfork approached our car, giving me a somewhat uneasy feeling (thinking of my dream) of being near the “edge of the world”. The seemingly annoyed farmer looked at us suspiciously at first but gave my father instructions on what roads to take from there.

Note to self: I see that I still have the bad habit of writing “chimpmunk” instead of chipmunk, even after all these years.