Blue_Opossum

Morning of October 14, 1967. Saturday.



I am at my new school in late morning - seemingly in Florida, but it is not like any school I have been to in real life and it is also at least eight storeys high. The building is mostly missing the first two storeys (from under the higher storeys) and the rest is hovering in the air. It is not perfectly horizontal on the bottom, though, as one corner is “hanging down” more with more bricks and the bottoms of the outer walls are slightly on the diagonal.

I look at this now (March 2014) as being related to my transition from Wisconsin to Florida in that school was perceived as “incomplete” (or “unknown”) and “beyond my reach” during one time period. There was a longer period right after moving to Florida where I did not go to school (but did get to sit outside on the covered sidewalks on some days and sometimes talk to students - my first friend was Toby T, who became my best friend through much of those years). Someone had informed my parents that I might be uncomfortable with “learning” some things all over again as well as having to adapt culturally to the different mentality of the south (which is often seen or proclaimed as supposedly more racist and uneducated, though I was born in Florida - I was called rude slang Asian names by the majority for years even though I have no Asian heritage whatsoever - most people mistake even the slightest Native American features for Asian in the south, or used to - but this mostly destroyed any potential for perceived credibility regarding mainstream culture throughout my life though was only a small part of it). However, I was still always technically at least two grades ahead for my age (although never accepted the idea of being in the higher grades due to wanting to stay with friends as well as being near students usually much taller than me).

I stopped going during the middle of tenth grade, after a previous longer break (relative to the strange cysts in my right thumb and wrist and a longer time period of pain and a hospital stay) and got my GED, scoring the highest to date at that time for that region (nearly 98%).

Racially (when I was not constantly being called rude Asian names or asked weird questions by teachers on my “obviously oriental background”), I was seen as Métis, but people, because of my last name and its Anglicization (from Ladoueppe), assumed far more Canadian background than I had as well and the term was generic in the PAIA (not referring specifically to the Canadian groups but to all of mixed lineage). However, having lived in Wisconsin for years but completely losing my Floridian accent in a few months, people still thought I “sounded Canadian”, even most Australians, after living in Australia for twenty years (It is far more to do with my way of speaking than any regional accent).

Back to the dream. I do hang around the building for quite some time before going to the very large (American) football field in another area. It actually seems the size of about three football fields.

Strangely, there seems to be several games playing at once, all in the same general area, and moving between plays from different games. Even so, they mostly seem dressed the same. I do not get involved with the players in any way. I spend most of the dream time watching the “game” and wondering if it is just some form of strange practice for real games to come.

Morning of October 8, 1967. Sunday.



A sparsely recurring dream (probably only about four times in memorable ones). I am aware of a “rainbow” in the elementary school playground that is referred to (at least in my original dream journal title) as an “iron rainbow”. I have not found any other titular references. Even at this young age, I still seemed somewhat aware of the concept of phasing; that is, in relation to the varying proportional positive/negative polarity of two simultaneous combinations of a state creating a different totality when either has a particular level of polarity. In this case, it seems the environmental space is able to hold a particular “state” at different times; the state of where the “iron rainbow” fully exists (when the polarity is just right, seemingly based on weather), one where it is invisible or almost invisible but still somewhat touchable, and one where it does not exist at all. This is comparable to the phase shifting in two audio sources combined in particular ways, from very loud and “robot-like” (a sort of metallic, hollow sound, with far less bass), to complete silence (non-existence of any audio of any kind, even at the kHz end, and even at -144 dB) when with opposite polarities when combined at the same volume level.

The “iron rainbow” is much like a set of playground monkey-bars, but longer, more complex, and sort of trapezoidal (in comparison to the one I played on in real life, which was more squarish). I think it is only there at certain times, relating to the weather. Not many students are using it and there are many times when no one uses it. I ponder on its safety, yet there is still a sense of nostalgia (probably false nostalgia from earlier versions of my dream that I did not recall at all). Apparently, there are actually arc-shaped monkey-bars, but this one in my dream was not really rainbow-like at all even though it was called such.

Night of October 5, 1977. Wednesday.



This is one of those dreams I did more personal work with at the time because it was much longer than usual and more vivid throughout. I had other “versions” of it later on and made a comic which I no longer have.

Near the beginning, there was the idea of going on a long journey. Part of the journey was related to finding answers and learning from a large new computer, supposedly the best built thus far. This was long before computer technology was a more familiar asset in everyday life. It would be about the size of a house and all the data in the world would be active within it. It was almost like a quest, I suppose, or maybe a play on “question” relative to the idea of a quest, as that is regarding the last scene of my dream.

The first part involves scenes relating to watching the shapes of clouds in the backyard of my home in Cubitis. For some reason, Ernie and Bert, the “Muppets” from “Sesame Street”, are doing a longer skit from behind the area of the foundation of the shed that my father had been taking down that section of. I cannot quite hear the routine. A light rain begins to fall. The rain sizzles in an odd way on the Muppets’ “skin”.

There are other people with me, mostly unfamiliar, but I seem to be on my own at times. My older brother Jim joins us in the last section, though. We go through different landscapes, heading southwest. One scene involves looking down from a narrow wooden bridge over a stream, not that far above the water. Even though the stream is likely to be a freshwater stream, I see a colorful (seemingly spotted) orange octopus which then seems to be a brittle star. Although an octopus has eight arms and a brittle star has five, the brittle star in my dream seems to have eight arms at times. I watch it for a few minutes through the wavy patterns of the water’s surface. I did find out much later, though, that there are eight-armed sea stars in Australian waters near where I was to live many years later. An awareness of the numerical pattern regarding the number of arms (or assumed arms) being eight and five. My first initial came up, then a zero (as a potential egg?), the full four-digit sequence turned out to be a way to easily manipulate the “choices” that computers used many years later (interestingly, in 32-bit hexadecimal, which came long after the 16-bit ones) and led me to finding out all I needed to know about computer technology and the bizarre lies and popular myths that were built over a longer time period to where it now all seems like a mythological religion in the mainstream domain - to be able to get a program to do anything I wanted. (The bridge over the stream in my dream seemed to later represent the concept of “being above the mainstream” - perhaps meaning having more knowledge than the mainstream.)

There are other scenes of moving through landscapes, reminding me a little of “Damnation Alley”, which I had only seen the trailer of at the time but did see eventually. The movie has a similar aspect as one part of my dream - very strange “clouds” (unusual bands in the sky), an effect I do not recall seeing in any other movie, and quite intriguing, really. I also had a paperback book with stills from the movie, which I think I later got fifty cents for at a bookstore in Wisconsin. I would not refer to the dream environments as dystopian, though, it is quite varied.

The outcome of my dream is that I and others reach a large business building where the computer is kept. It almost seems as if we have not traveled that far or maybe are still near the area from where we first started in my backyard. My brother Jim is there (who had a higher interest in computers - more than anyone else I knew - long after this dream - and was the first person I knew in real life to get a computer) and talking to different people who are behind desks. One part of my dream seems to feature a structure that is somewhat like a railroad track - creating impressions of both underground mines and the “Haunted Mansion” ride at Disney World. It seems one section of the tracks goes near or even into the large computer.

I approach the computer and ask it what the family name of cats is. After standing there a short time, a paper prints out (as well as it being said in an electronic voice) the word “Felidae”. I then ask it what the family name of dogs is, and another paper comes out that reads “Canidae”, also with audio.

“Do you know everything?” I ask the computer.

“Yes,” says the computer, “Welcome to MYOPIA!”

“Don’t you mean Utopia?” I ask.

“I can’t see,” mumbles the “computer”, and then it curses. I lift a small, rectangular, silver door at about upper-chest height and a very chubby, sweating man looks up through the small patch of light going into the area he is enclosed in. He has a large open book he appears to be looking things up in. He then runs out from the side of the computer by opening a larger metallic door and at first I try to catch him (to publicly expose the whole business as a fraud), but I soon give up. He jumps into a coal cart and it moves down the track to the north. The “great computer” was completely fake.

Morning of October 2, 1977. Sunday.



Pearl Bailey (who shared my mother’s middle name of Mae) lives a few houses north of me in Cubitis on the same side (east) of Highway Seventeen. She seems to almost be like my mother, or perhaps a “replacement” for my deceased mother, though my mother did not die until 2002 in real life (yet on this same date). She tells me about a pterodactyl seen in the area and from there my dream has Hollywood-movie-like aspects. (In the background, there is some sort of association with “won’t you come home, Pearl Bailey”; and there may also be an association with Beetle Bailey.)

I eventually have a long, dramatic battle with the pterodactyl while flying a helicopter. It also seems it is part of a movie we are filming with a real pterodactyl and a possible real risk to me. I am not defeated and actually enjoy this adventurous dream. (In real life, I had a larger plastic model pterodactyl that I used in a trick outside photograph of my father where it looked “life-sized”. It had an interchangeable wing, one of which was implied to be injured/torn.)

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I have tagged this as precognitive due to the interesting coincidence of a different “Bailey” being listed directly before my mother’s obituary in 2002.

A helicopter (as well as a pterodactyl or pteranodon) is a flight symbol, and as such, signifies a real-time subliminal awareness of being in the dream state (and may or may not have an additional meaning), this being a natural association with the consciousness displacement of falling asleep or waking up. In fact, an astounding twenty percent of the tens of thousands of dreams I have documented and studied over fifty years contain flight symbols as such, often being directly linked to the waking prompt for obvious reasons (almost as obvious as the biological-based falling event, which rarely has an “interpretation” and is often solely the incidental precursor to waking).

Morning of October 1, 1967. Sunday.



I am on my own, possibly in late morning, in a drifting canoe, going southward over a river (the Hillsborough River) in a swamp in Florida that looks like a part of Lettuce Lake Park.

On the banks of the river are very tall cypress trees. There seem to be continuous tall vertically stretched faces of which are superimposed against the trees, but are likely not meant to be the trees themselves, more like a ghostly presence or a strange optical illusion, similar to a funhouse mirror effect.

A few of the faces seem wary of my presence, even though I am a young child, with mouths open, though there is no certainty at some points that they are aware of me. There is a bluish green hue on everything at times. The closely clustered faces, as well as being stretched from ground to treetop and very narrow in appearance, also seem to waver very slowly at times, or have a bend near the middle of the face. They are both male and female, mostly all adults. They are only to my right, near the bank of the river. The faces otherwise do not move much. Despite the eerie imagery, I feel no fear, especially as a few of the faces seem afraid of my presence at times.

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Variations of this dream, both lucid and non-lucid, occurred a number of times from earliest memory. The causes behind this dream are fully known. It developed over the autosymbolic rendering of “drifting into sleep” (spoken mainly by my mother in real life when she was describing my status when I was resting in bed) and mixing the association with drifting in a canoe into a recognized form of dream state induction, which of course has no waking life relevance due to it being a factor of the dream state itself. It is still a major factor of my dreams, water being autosymbolic of the essence of sleep. This dream’s setting was an area my family and I visited in real life when I was very young.

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Morning of September 30, 1967. Saturday.



Regardless of my dream’s setting seeming like a street intersection, there is indoor outdoor ambiguity. (I am unsure if I am inside a large building or outside on an actual street). It seems to be early morning before sunrise. It is dark, but I can discern certain details.

I become aware of what seems to be a Raggedy Ann doll hanging from a noose, though there is some degree of ambiguity where both hanging by the neck and hanging by the waist are considered. I mostly only see the silhouette of the doll itself and the shadow it casts. (My decision that it is hanging by the neck is based on influence from television Westerns such as “Gunsmoke”.)

I eventually get the impression that it is hanging from an overhead traffic light and might be meant to be a street sign. I see its shadow cast upon a wall (which, due to indoor outdoor ambiguity, may be either an external or internal wall). I am also aware of a stop sign in the same general area, but only in octagonal silhouette.

While pondering on why the doll is hanging from a traffic light and who might have put it up there, I slowly wake.

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Appearance of an intersection in a dream is autosymbolism for the neural gating of which occurs during RAS mediation. The indoor outdoor ambiguity validates this as being in the higher region of liminal space (when factors of the real indoor environment including the subliminal perception of really being asleep indoors, not necessarily rendered with bedroom implications, are modulated into the illusory outdoor setting of the dream state).

A doll in a dream is typically autosymbolism for being physically inactive in unconsciousness. Therefore, I can reason that the hanging doll is an emergent consciousness precursor without preconscious personification in this case.

It is the weekend in reality. I have concluded that, since my mother will not be coming in to wake me up earlier for school, the doll represents the emergent conscious factor as remaining passive, which means I can sleep longer or wake (as the intersection symbolizes the choice of), as there is no dominant waking alert factor.

Assuming the doll is hanging by the neck, it would additionally be a possible biological warning relating to incidental sleep apnea (which did not occur in this case), though this condition is extremely rare for me. If by the waist, possibly a warning relating to intestinal stressors (which had not been validated in this case).

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This online dream journal entry was reformatted from the source material, abridged, and clarified on Thursday, 22 February 2018.

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Personal trivia: “The Hanging Doll” was retitled “The Omen” in early 1969. I later changed it back to “The Hanging Doll” in late 1972 to be more descriptive.

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Morning of September 24, 1977. Saturday.



This was another very long dream that I had as a teenager. It was one of those “I’m in a very long movie” dreams, complete with music, and sometimes even beginning and ending credits as often happened when younger. Girls are vanishing from beaches near Sanibel Island. The soundtrack (beginning one and ending one) is the theme from “She Waits” (1972 TV movie with Patty Duke that has nothing to do with uncharted islands or dragons). The boat moves along, somewhat in an arc. Somehow we get knocked out (Toby and I) in an attack by the dragon-creature near the beginning of my dream (a gas can hits our heads in one version), but we don’t know what it is until much later. So, while we are “asleep” within my dream, and the speed-boat continuing on its own, we end up at the Isle of Bailiwick.

There had been reports of a creature of some kind that attacked one girl. Brenda B (not Brenda W), a girl I knew, was the most recent victim. My best friend Toby T and I set out to try to solve the mystery. It has something to do with the so-called Bermuda Triangle. But we end up on an island filled with; you guessed it, only girls. Of course they are wearing clam shells as “bras” and seaweed and seashell-based jewellery. They worship a dragon-like creature that is somewhat like an alligator but a bit bigger. There is one scene where I am climbing on the rocks, and I am “attacked” but it is more like a movie scene. It reminds me somewhat of the cardboard alligator (made mostly with cardboard boxes) used in a school play in real life years prior, which was dragged along with unseen strings by the Captain Hook character. When it opens its mouth, it does seem a bit “fake”. I move about on the steep, jagged black rocks along the shore, though, wondering if I will escape the island and get back to our boat. Indeed, it does seem for a short time that I am making its mouth move with arm motions and unseen strings as it hisses.

Toby and I are tied up with seaweed “rope” to a tall wooden post, back to back, inside of some sort of old stone structure on the island. The girls are lead by LR, someone who is somewhat dominating, but a bit crazy and meandering in real life, even to this day, with hardly any memory of anything in her youth (or so she told me recently). There is one area that is sort of like an unfinished artesian well, with the water coming up to about “floor” level (somewhat like cobblestone). I see bubbles and such, but the well is too small for the dragon-alligator to come up, only for the girls to sing to her in prayer and appreciation (very similar to the movie “Voyage to the Planet of Prehistoric Women” from 1968). I can hear the sounds of the creature echoing, though, “she” travels through underground caverns - filled with ocean water and some fresh water areas - under the island.

I am freed from the ropes near the first part of my dream and taken away to a different area and have to…interact with each member of the “tribe” including Sandra R and Patty A, oddly, in different rooms set up somewhat like a hotel! However, it means my eventual death, I assume, or at least not much else to do for a long time. I do not interact much with the leader, though, as I don’t really like her much (and there are other girls who do not like her or who just want to go home - that is, the ones who remember lives outside the island cult). It is like a “dragon mother” cult, where even babies are sometimes stolen from coastal towns and brainwashed into the fairly simple cult mentality, needlessly based on survival in a primitive place, when modern towns and medical supplies are within a boat trip (the leader allows some to die in childbirth instead of using modern medicine - boy babies are mostly sent to coastal town orphanages on some sort of primitive raft). Toby somehow escapes but returns later.

Eventually, everything blows up (some sort of feedback loop from fire from the “alligator-dragon” going into the place-of-worship “well” area, and me tricking it to go a certain direction). Some girls survive, though. We (Toby and I) return on the original small motorboat, and life goes on.

Morning of September 18, 1977. Sunday.



I am standing near the center of my Cubitis bedroom, possibly in late morning. A large owl flies down from the ceiling, as if through the open area with the ruined hanging tile, this feature caused by a leak (though this feature was more to the south side of my ceiling and the ceiling in my dream seems solid), and flies straight at my face. However, there seems no implied threat and no contact or “hit” occurs, as it is just the imagery without the expected impact - and it actually seems to vanish after this. It flies down from the northwest side of my room. It seems it may have somehow passed through the ceiling and thus I get the impression it might have been a ghost.

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This dream was possibly influenced by having heard noises between the roof and ceiling in real life previously, which my mother had said might be a trapped owl. However, the sounds had turned out to be large rats which began to occupy the area (and which did “tightrope routines” in running across the electrical cord from our house to the shed and back) even though we had never had them before in all the years we had lived there. Shortly after, I had both a "pet” owl (which my father rescued from the side of the road after it was attacked by crows in early morning) and a “pet” rat I named Ben, which had somehow gotten into the square hanging cage my Guinea pig had once occupied but at the time was occupied by an unnaturally small black bantam rooster (the smallest I had ever seen or heard of - his crow being a strange mouse-like squeak). The rat had not hurt the tiny rooster, which we put in a different cage.

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Despite this dream having an additional precognitive layer, the native (real-time) meaning is straightforward. An owl symbolizes the circadian rhythms of night and, as a flight symbol, additionally symbolizes being asleep and in the dream state. I am standing near the center of my bedroom (dream sign and subliminal foundation and origin of the dream self) and it flies down apparently through the ceiling (liminal space of the preconscious band). Overall, my dream simply means that the residual essence of the nighttime awareness is coalescing back into my dream self at the waking stage, as it nears morning in reality, making this dream extremely easy to understand the full meaning of.

Morning of September 17, 1977. Saturday.



This was of a new period of lucid dreaming for me as well as higher vividness. 1977 was an unusual year for this. In my dream, I had fallen asleep on the living room couch (I had absentmindedly written “leaving room” instead of “living room” in the original entry). Through the glass panes of my atypical bedroom door (which did not close normally but rather squeezed into the doorway with some noisy difficulty), I see an unusual variation of the mystery girl. The level of vividness is extreme and fully in-body and I try to control my in-dream breathing a bit more than usual. I watch her through the glass as the glass panes seem much bigger than in reality (seeming to “grow”, actually). She is making references to riding the carousel with her…an actual carousel somehow in my room (or on the other side of the “mirror” aka window panes), although there is minor influence from having seen the first episode of “Logan’s Run” (the television series). In that show, the carousel meant death (at the age of thirty) but in the dream, it is only slightly ominous. There is a lot of in-dream “energy” or “vibration” that mostly only occurred in particular dream-types related to the mystery girl.

Over time, the carousel takes on a strange appearance, somewhat like a round, rotating wooden dock, almost like a circular version of part of the “Gunsmoke” set, as if the carousel was somewhat like a soap bubble where parts of it faded over time before it vanished completely. The imagery of this part of the dream came to match exactly - a large drawing my wife’s mother had done in Nimbin (with several copies in her family) long before I saw it in reality (and regardless of the high unlikelihood of someone making a drawing of that nature, which incidentally also included the theme of a divine or “twin soul” marriage - I mean, who else would associate a rotating carousel with nuances of a rotating circular “Gunsmoke” set or “ghost town”?). In real-life, the carousel my wife had actually been on during that same time was eventually dismantled (in Australia) and ended up where I lived in America, any of these things being the tip of the iceberg in thousands of unlikely parallels and precognitive nuances.

In my dream, I end up going through the glass somehow. I end up in some sort of business office where a group called “IRO” (possibly based on a fictional in-dream name of a male named Iro?) is holding a meeting about an upcoming novel called “Reflections”, which was apparently going to be written by the mystery girl (yet remain unpublished in “my” dimension - it was as if I was in an “alternate version of the future”). There is a discussion relating to refugees from Hungary, though at the time I had no conscious associations with “International Refugee Organization” and did not even think about the additional significance until many years later. (My wife’s father was technically a refugee during the Roma “ethnic cleansing” and escaped to Australia). (In real life, my wife had also written an unpublished novel called “Reflections” before I ever made real-life contact with her, continuing my usual tip-of-the-iceberg run.)

It seems unusual for me to be where I am and I wonder if I should stay, though I get the impression I would miss out on ten or more years of my life. I engage in a conversation with one male who asks me why I am able to focus on my dreams (and “other dimensions”) so well and document them and research as much as possible, to “solve” things. I tell him that if I had not done so, I would only seem to be “half here”. I must be an exception to the rule. Billions of other people do not seem to have that interest in being “complete” or actively in search of purpose. I am not sure if the male leader is called Iro or again if it is just a group name. I also get the impression of a younger sister of the mystery girl being called Rugboe. However, this comes to be a distortion of “Rugby”, which I did not learn of until years later (after moving to Australia).

A male asks me if I think that other people actually exist on “my” side other then myself, my “predestined” mate, and a handful of other people and I am not sure what he means. It almost seems like this other in-dream “pocket world” is only a business building where about six or seven men exist, forever in a “business meeting” of sorts.

Eventually, I understand that I cannot stay in this “other realm” much longer. There is a vague awareness that it is “parallel” to my Cubitis bedroom and I even seem to be in my room as such at times (many in-dream locations, as well as more often being composites, sometimes seem to “hold” two or more places at the same time while also existing in their own space). I do have more parts of the “puzzle”, though. I decide to think about this mystery girl again, and her unpublished “Reflections” novel. Maybe I will actually meet her one day…the carousel event and “Little Red Feather” being two other clues. The man asks me if “Little Red Feather” is my “real name” and I answer with no, not at all, it is the name of a toy plastic figure given to me by a cousin (Evelyn W) when I was six. I suppose the mystery girl is puzzled at this.

…particularity as my yet-to-be wife had an “imaginary” playmate of that name in Australia at the time…long before we made “real” contact…

There are certain things you never come back from, and which you cannot “unlearn” no matter how many millions of people “exist differently”.

Night of September 13, 1977. Tuesday.



In real life, my father had come home from his work rather early and came into my room to give me a book. “She told me to give this to you,” he said. Who did he mean? Jenny? Likely not. My father would not have directed any attention to the concept of ghosts at that point, especially “fresh” ghosts, ghosts only about a month old. “I found it in the window seat,” he said. He said it was the only thing on the property. Anywhere. It was a children’s book about a white kangaroo. I did not ask him who “she” was or who he thought the book had belonged to. He went back to work, riding there on his bicycle, a considerable distance (I had no idea why he felt the need to do this), working for a dollar an hour when everyone else was earning five or more. For his age, his stamina was incredible, including when he rode a bicycle across the United States, twice, in his seventies.

Even though I was sixteen and the book was obviously for a much younger age group, I kept it for awhile, though it did not make the journey to Wisconsin with me. Looking over my dream journals at the time, I discovered two older dreams about a “cataroo”, both on September 13th, one in 1973, the other in 1974. As the “cataroo” (upper half of cat, back half of kangaroo) rescued me in one dream, this “white kangaroo” business seemed benevolent and somehow reassuring. Still, it was an intriguing “coincidence”. This was before I came to learn how to trace precise synchronicity-based layers over the years that seemed “drawn” to a particular date for whatever reason. I came to think that it could possibly “explain” some aspects of precognition, but still did not explain “non-local mind” or remote viewing. After all, many people know that Christmas will arrive on the 25th of December. How difficult is that? Apparently too difficult a concept for the majority.

In my dream, I think of my father exploring the mostly empty recesses of either ruined lives or those who could not settle down and for whatever reason had to move on. (“You stay out of my piccalilli farrago!” What? No exploration allowed? Did curiosity ever actually kill a cat?) Each and every person left behind one thing. Only one item. Perhaps one “clue” to use as a “key” for whatever purpose. Not all dreams are like this of course, but those that remain with certain persistent residual feelings and seeming links that others would never see even if they studied something for centuries.

At this point in my life (age sixteen, in September of 1977), I saw the world, for the most part, as jealous, murderous, and completely insane - and with very good reason. Those who were not insane were innocent and refused to do a single thing against the dominant problematic aggressors. Whoever you interacted with could easily be “removed”. Even after countless warnings and direct signs, no one listened.

My dream girl aka “imaginary girlfriend” as best friend Toby called her (though he did have honest interest in my dream work, unlike some) noted the white kangaroo book. She told me she would “hold one for me” when I was to make contact with her in the “real” world (whatever that is) years from then. She said her human form would not necessarily realize this. Her angelic goddess essence would always be present…somewhere. It seems funny to hear a dream character talking about their “human form”. It was not that I would ever need “confirmation”. The “clues” I knew of were already virtually endless. If I had started to write every miraculous “coincidence” that came directly to me, I would never stop writing.

The voices of truth cannot be silenced. People can lie. People can pretend. People deny that love exists. People deny that anything beyond mundane human life exists (and thus even their “dreams” are mundane and linear). Some people seem to enjoy denying the universe itself. Perhaps they even deny the existence of life itself.

Morning of September 11, 1977. Sunday.



I am outside near the concrete walkway to the shed in back of my Cubitis home. Curiously, there is an “unknown city” (at first) I become aware of to the west (mostly to the northwest) beyond the other side of Highway Seventeen. It is fairly rare for this scene to occur in my dreams with this directional orientation, as usually, unknown “new” cities appear to the east, beyond the railroad tracks. I notice one high building, probably the Empire State Building. I do not consider, however, that I live in Florida and nowhere near Manhattan.

Somehow, the building falls over, tipping to its side (possibly related to a military jet flying too close to the area, implying doomsday - a recurring in-dream concept at this time including the “Three Doomsday Jets” dream). Even though it was far away, it somehow suddenly ends up near where I am standing (though the area between the house and shed and between the house and neighbor’s orange grove is much more expansive than in reality). Strangely, it then begins to turn top over bottom (reminding me vaguely of a “twitching caterpillar” for some reason). The scene becomes highly ambiguous and extremely unrealistic. On the one hand, it is a building that collapsed (or rather “tipped over”) a great distance from my home, yet on the other hand is quite small at this point, like a model (though still implying the same full-sized building), only about ten feet high. It continues to turn top over bottom in a circle around me as if in a deliberate attempt to fall on me after failing the previous times (as if it holds some sort of conscious intent).

I become extremely uncomfortable and annoyed (with a growing “mental dullness” - my dream seeming only “half-rendered” at this point) at this persistent “thing”/skyscraper that wants to “fall” on me. It continues to dance around me in a circle in a top over bottom routine, somewhat in the manner of a dropped gyrating coin that never stops. I eventually perceive that I am only a few inches tall, though see myself from a higher disembodied perspective. It becomes almost like watching an annoying news report while half-asleep or in an intoxicated stupor. It is almost like I am trapped in having to stay in the act of running around in a circle, as the tower will never finish its presumed “falling over”, it seems, almost decaying into abstract incoherency just prior to waking, as dreams sometimes do.

UPDATE with grammar enhancements March 2015. I did not really see this as either significant or precognitive (even in 2001) originally (with regard to the September 11 attacks in 2001 over twenty years later), partly due to lack of a coherent scenario and the fairly rare “mental dullness” my dream seemed to generate - caused by a very mild headache in sleep which faded after fully waking (as well as it seeming to be the Empire State Building rather than one of the World Trade Center towers by conscious association that day). However, because I have seen thousands of examples of date-relevant associations regarding precognition and foreshadowing with my own dreams (and additionally via pop culture or incidental published works not relevant to my dreams), I presently feel there may be some sort of subtle link, regardless of the bizarre level of distortion and impossible dream imagery here.

Morning of September 9, 1977. Friday.



In my dream, I spend most of my time in my backyard in Cubitis where the bonfires are usually set. I find an undamaged jewelry box in the ashes which does not seem familiar (and is not familiar in reality in conscious reflection). (There is a very vague association with “Pandora’s Box”, but that concept does not fully materialize in any way.)

After a time, I learn that a small creature lives in the box that could easily sit on my hand, and in fact does so a few times at different points. The creature is white and fuzzy and has two shorter antenna-like knobs rising from his head - somehow reminding me vaguely of the old-style television “rabbit ears” in function (but not so much in appearance).

He does not seem to be a threat, and in fact, seems fairly timid. I believe he may have magical powers but no major events happen. There is, however, a deep sense of peace in my dream. I do feel that perhaps this “pet” will provide things I will need later on in life.

Update (July 16, 2015. Thursday): After extensive basic research and study of various dreams and time periods, I discovered that this creature was probably influenced by seeing “Josie and the Pussycats in Outer Space“ back in 1972 - which I did not directly realize at all in 1977 (in fact, in checking and validating this dream’s date and any relevant documentation of the time or missing details, I found that the first episode of the show aired on September 9, 1972 and was titled “Where’s Josie?” - Josie likely being a symbol of my red-haired neighbor girl who had moved); more specifically, the alien character Bleep (Melody’s fluffy pet alien). It always greatly pleases me when I am able to find and validate dream-related origins and influences. This was probably primarily based on nostalgia relating to that time period and having less female company on a regular basis (at home) than before in the months leading up to our move back to Wisconsin.

Morning of September 6, 1977. Tuesday.



This was a long dream as a teen (seemingly with a few “resets” in the first versions), first dreamt in Cubitis in 1977. It recurred many times over several years (until the movie “The Fly” 1986 version was released and in which a scene matched my much older dream). The “soundtrack” of later versions was the music from the movie “The Black Hole” (1979) which I had the soundtrack record of.

Lisa M and her family are moving back to Cubitis, having driven down Highway Seventeen from the south, though I am not sure why. It is seemingly midnight or just after when they pull stealthily into their driveway (of tiny broken up seashells, bits of clam shells, and sand). I run and inform my parents regardless of the later hour, with somewhat of a sense of awe. (In reality, ironically, she had begun public high school for the first time after her family moved - the same one I would have went to - but shortly after I stopped going.)

In my dream, a fictional song called “Grasshopper” (supposedly by Kenny Rogers) was part of my “dream-movie’s” background music in later versions. (Two of the lines of the song were “When we were kids we used to play in the backyard” and “Grasshopper, grasshopper, come back to me” - slightly similar to the melody of “Matchmaker” from “Fiddler on the Roof” - possible association with the grasshopper fiddling in the “Ant and the Grasshopper” fable.)

Over time, I learn of some unusual and disturbing issues; “this” Lisa was not the “original” Lisa; at one point, something to do with being right-handed or left-handed due to an injury from doing cartwheels, I think, which is based on a distorted memory of a story about losing virginity when doing too many cartwheels or riding a horse. The “new” Lisa is some sort of shape-shifting creature, possibly from another planet (though this is not certain). The grasshopper as a deuteragonist may be associated with Jiminy Cricket relative to morals and conscience (or presumed guilt), though greatly augmented.

Later, a human skeleton is found in the concrete flower-box in front of where my bedroom is (outer west-most wall) when some new coleus plants are to be put in by my mother. Surprisingly, it turns out to be the real Lisa’s skeletal remains. It seems that the creature had somehow taken at least partial control of the parents to move “back home” to produce offspring. This mind control wears off at one point. (The focus on death is likely more about Jenny C, who was murdered about a month earlier by another male a couple years younger than me). This also loosely foreshadowed a real-life experience I had while fishing one morning. My mother had used plastic milk jugs as filler for the flower box. When I reeled my line in at one point, I mistook a plastic milk jug filled with sediment for a human skull, which gave me palpitations a temporary shock.

The fake Lisa had vanished when the news was spread about the shape-shifting alien invader. I later (for reasons I am not certain of) communicate with her again very late at night. It turns out that the real Lisa had been deliberately replaced by the female grasshopper-like creature that could mimic people (much like the movie “Mimic” that came out years later but the creature being far more human-like in my dream).

Earlier versions of my dream ended with the same scene as in the new version of “The Fly” (1986) where the large insect “foot”/leg moves out and comes down in the same way with the same timing, personal mood and reflection, and “color” upon my seeing the movie for the first time. There is one final scene where a small white shaggy dog (unknown Maltese) is barking at the creature as I fall backwards in my presumed “death”. (This turns out to have been precognitive of my wife’s life as related in the June 2014 dream “A Long Journey with my Wife”.)

Parts of later versions of my dream seemed similar to scenes from “Five Million Years to Earth” (1967) as well (“Quatermass and the Pit”). She becomes a mother and produces thousands of locust-like creatures that destroy the world; nothing but empty trees and bare ground as far as the eye can see, which again, uses the soundtrack from “The Black Hole” (same ending theme to my “dream movie”). Grasshopper-like creatures leap around almost like a sense of playful horses from an underside view, but…no more people, ever (other than myself). (There is no logical pondering of what will happen when all the vegetation is gone, which would likely be not that far into the future as I already see a lot of leafless trees over the infested landscape.)

Morning of August 25, 1967. Friday.



Location (both in real life and in first versions of dream): Rose Street (and surrounding area), La Crosse, Wisconsin, USA - the apartment building that mostly served as a tavern below (a venue where my father sometimes performed) and apartments above, which was struck by lightning and burned to the ground years later, after I returned to Wisconsin.

Real-life Associations: Wendy the Good Little Witch comic book number 45 as shown here, with, I think, a news agency stamp of August 17th, 1967 (“publish date”, which is sometimes several months ahead the release date, listed as December 1967).

Characters: Me, the young version of Alice Liddell (the real “Alice in Wonderland”, 1852-1934) as Wendy the Good Little Witch in “real” human form (recurring - I cannot presently recall a dream-witch who did not have black hair - she also wore a blue outfit rather than red - sorry Harvey fans, blonde witches just never seemed “right” for some reason), and a few random adults. Interestingly my wife had a very similar haircut around that same age, so that is just another intriguing familiarity, I guess.

This was the first occurrence of the “rain shield”. The first version of the rain shield or “bubble” shield was in the Pepto-Bismol pink I have mentioned in other entries. I could have lived without it, I suppose. I have not had pink as a dominating color in my dreams very often since late childhood. Blue has mostly been the most outstanding. At any rate, it was mostly about being “protected” from the rain in several recurring dreams this way, and it eventually became one of my own recurring dream abilities after moving back to Florida. Sometimes, it was a special wristwatch I wore (when it was not just “mind-power” or magic), which of course was a special variation of the 1967 Omega Seamaster, which could also allow the wearer and anyone he held hands with to walk on the ocean floor (which was less common than the walking and flying in the rain dreams, but to be honest, I actually liked walking and flying in the rain in some other dreams).

The shield was mostly egg-shaped and transparent, extending out about three feet from me and whoever I was with. I still had one dream of it now and then at age twelve. These were some of my more vivid and (lucid) self-reflecting dreams, which were eventually “replaced” by the flying in a cloak in the dead of night dreams - which tended to have the same overall amazing mood and feelings of peace and bliss.

Historically speaking, this was the day (25th) that a certain Nazi Party founder was killed at a laundromat in the US. Not knowing any better, I told an older girl (D. Rockwell) I knew at the time how sorry I was that her father was shot at the laundromat. Obviously, this was no close relation, so she looked at me in a very puzzled manner.

Night of August 25, 1977. Thursday.



This is a description of the most intense fully in-body nightmare I have had in my lifetime (almost as vivid as a typical fully in-body lucid dream though I am not lucid in this one). Even so, possibly the only vivid in-body nightmare that had residual energies on my mood (in “coloring” my day) for more than a day or two as well as very realistic imagery and perspective. It seems to fit in with the idea of “anniversary” dreams. It relates to how my dog disappeared after I was in the hospital for a couple days a year earlier when he apparently ran off looking for me. It preferred my company over anyone else’s. It was a mixed breed but part toy spaniel and showed up at our house as a stray. No one had claimed him.

In my dream, I find myself seeing the small dog sitting on the floor of my room in Cubitis. I am mostly looking west the entire time. I am very surprised and happy to see him, but something seems a bit “off” about the atmosphere or mood of my dream. I call out in an odd eerie sustained voice,“Joooe…”

I pick him up and he seems small and vulnerable but then something completely unexpected happens. He jumps up from my arms and bites into my entire face somehow with a strange growl. I actually feel the intense pain sweep over my face and when I look down again, I can feel that some of his teeth are still in a few different areas of my face. I am still holding him much the same way at that point. He now looks quite savage…or at least as savage as a toy spaniel can appear, and I can see where several of his teeth had come out - and I also have a vague idea that this may eventually cause his death and so I feel additionally sad upon this fleeting thought. My face feels wet and hot. There is an intensity which makes it seem like a real event even after waking. However, it is not that logically rendered because, being such a small dog, he would not have been able to cover my entire face with his open mouth.

This was actually one of the only dreams I had where he appeared after he disappeared in real life. Being an “anniversary” dream, it was unusually intense with regard to emotion and self-reflection. It was likely relative to the suppressed or “hidden” guilt I had concerning his disappearance and not knowing what happened to him (thus his in-dream behavior implies “the worst” if only in my imagination) even though it was not really my fault that I had to spend time in the hospital for a couple days for the operation on my right thumb. He was a “house dog” but this was the first time he just took off (on the second day I was in the hospital) when someone else opened the front door at my family’s house.

This was also one of the only dreams that seemingly took me by complete surprise in its outcome.