Blue_Opossum

Morning of April 8, 2013. Monday.



I am walking through an unfamiliar area near a woods on the edge of a small town. I am with a stranger that reminds me of Harrison Ford, but there are a few other people in the area, including Carol (an older half-sister on my mother’s side).

I notice some jets flying overhead, as well as a small UFO, which looks like some sort of very unusual jet.

I point out the strange maneuvers and flight paths of the aircraft as they turn to one side, go around a tree, and come back again. I cheerfully expect them all to crash and my anticipation and confidence grows that they will. One soon crashes in the far distance, causing an explosion and resulting fire.

The UFO (which I actually suspect to be some sort of small military aircraft) comes very close to us, but there is no threat. It continues just past us, crashing to the ground and sliding slightly. It is not very big, the main section not much bigger than a metal garbage can lid, but it does have small jet-like wings.

I am able to understand that it has a computer chip in a particular location. I walk up to it (it is mostly still in one piece and of course had been unmanned - in fact, too small to carry much weight) and reach down (there is still a bit of fire and smoke near some parts of it), and pull out a computer chip that slides out and is about the size of a stick of gum, although thicker.

We walk to other areas. I am happy I have the chip, but we need to stay away from government or military areas. Somehow, though, we are near Area 51, but it is in an urban area in my dream and thus not really isolated. The UFO conspiracy theorists that try to get in are said to be “missing a week” by other people; something to do with 52 weeks in a year and Area 51, “missing a week” being an expression for a person who believes in aliens and is “not all there”.

Each UFO is a result of the government activity in the region and their controlling of agriculture. The chip I have was made to release harmful chemicals over certain fields to destroy certain crops as well as fertilize and help certain others, thus interfering with the livelihood of certain farmers in the region.

I notice a group of about five military police of various ages who are annoying an innocent family at a farm when I go in, but I remain unsure why the military are present. The family is sitting at a kitchen table not having done anything wrong, and I am aware of the misguided bullying of the MPs. One young man pulls out a matte black gun for no reason and points it at a dark-haired girl. I take out a screwdriver with a partially transparent orange handle (seemingly my weapon of choice in recent dreams) and hit him fairly lightly on the top of the head with the handle, making a strange hollow metallic sound that is almost musical, with a sort of organ-like tonal delay and even a chorus effect in the 440 Hz range. He immediately falls unconscious, sprawled on the floor near the corner of the table by his intended victim.

The other military officers do not even seem to notice and casually go on with their business elsewhere, ignoring their man lying on the floor.

I notice that the lid can be slid back from the chip on one side, and I see that there are tiny smooth and oval radioactive stones of two sizes in an alternating larger stone and smaller stone geometrical pattern in three or four rows. There is more talk on how the government is using UFOs, which are small unmanned jets of a similar shape as the original Romulan Bird-of-Prey design. I had a model of one as a child, having gotten it for Christmas.

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There was minor prescience as is often the case, but relating to something Zsuzsanna had heard. A woman came up to her (a local who has a house full of cats, believing it is her duty to take in every stray). The woman made a comment about how she liked the name Gabrielle (without knowing it was Zsuzsanna’s middle name), mostly in reference to another name that was not really similar. She then made a bizarre comment about the ground being poisoned. I think it was around the same time I was writing this entry.

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Morning of February 7, 1976. Saturday.



This was in the second month of the upcoming bicentennial in July, but I am not sure if that had anything to do with any potential associations.

There is some sort of unsettling back story in my dream’s origin. It has to do with the end of the world. The “end of the world” is apparently to start when three jets flying over, I assume of the US Air Force, in the form of a “V” (one flying ahead of two others that are somewhat side by side), will indicate that the world only has a few hours or so left (though this may be relative to people only living in the United States). In fact, there is an idea that, even though other jets may be flying over the region, these specifically will make a sound like “doom doom doom”.

Over time, there is not much concern. But eventually, I hear the “woom, woom woom” sound that is supposedly the sign of the three jets approaching and flying over. However, this turns out to be, in reality, as the sound wakes me, a large truck going north down Highway Seventeen - it actually did seem a bit like three loud “wooms” or “dooms” but not really with an additional jet-like sound. This is somewhat odd and seems like in-dream precognition of some sort relating to similar experiences where the dream builds seemingly intentionally to a sound not yet heard or expected. This was in fact the only time I perceived a passing semi in this way. I am also not usually awakened by traffic sounds, even the occasional louder vehicle. (I even missed hearing the train at times during the night other than when it had the blaring horn.)