Blue_Opossum

Morning of November 22, 1975. Saturday.



My dream starts out with a detailed backstory with fictional characters possibly implied to be living in Arcadia (as that is where the final event likely takes place). There is a family curse where an unfamiliar man of perhaps about thirty was warned, I believe by his grandmother (and possibly other family members), not to ever become a sailor or go near the ocean at any point in his life.

There had been a sampler in his family for several generations which depicts rats leaving a ship that is implied to be destined to sink, which is hanging on display in a local museum. The edge of the boat is shown and the gangway is visible, with three rats on the gangplank in running position from upper left to lower right, diagonally positioned. This design also seems to represent the family’s coat of arms.

Eventually, I become corporeal and part of the scenario. I am with my best friend Toby at a public gathering in an unfamiliar setting. He is seated to my right. The unknown man has decided to go to sea as a ship’s captain (apparently without moving up the ranks). He is dressed in a captain’s uniform and is explaining how he no longer believes in his family curse. There are at least two other speakers at the gathering. The speakers take turns sitting on chairs to the right of the podium (my left). There are probably less than twenty people at the indoor venue. The podium and speakers are perhaps about six feet from the first row of the audience, who sit on singular chairs.

Time passes. There is an uneasy quiet growing, followed by an eerie clattering (reminiscent of wooden wind chimes), followed by another eerie silence. Toby is looking off to the right. I tap him to get his attention, saying his name. The unknown would-be captain has become a skeleton, now sagging slightly on his chair, still in his uniform, unmoving. A hush falls over the audience as the dream, now at its most vivid point, quickly fades.

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The preconscious personification, who never regarded me directly, was rendered as an unknown male who wanted to go to sea (return to sleep, as water represents the internal biology of sleeping and dreaming) as a captain (dictating control of his sleeping and waking habits). Instead, he became a skeleton to symbolize the cessation of the dream state and to activate the waking stage. This was foreshadowed by the sampler of the rats leaving the ship. Rats basically symbolize nighttime circadian rhythms (as they are primarily nocturnal, excluding pet rats) and the gangplank is actually oriented like a clock to represent a time around four or five o'clock in the morning. The sampler also implies leaving the potential to sail upon the ocean (analogous to not returning to sleep). Additionally, the background of the sampler was yellow, which represents sentience and a precursor to dawning consciousness (waking). This was my last longer and clearer dream of the morning. There was no fear created in this dream; just a subtle sense of awe and curiosity. The foundation for this dream was water induction (my most common dream induction).

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It is possible that my dream was influenced by a cover of DC’s “Ghosts” comic book (volume one issue nine, cover date November 1972), one that I had looked at fairly often, even though there is no implication of a ghost in this dream, only the skeleton as symbolic of the cessation of my dream.

Night of November 21, 1975. Friday.



In a diminishing transition from viable lucidity to semi-lucidity, I am chased by dogs after unintentionally trespassing beyond a fence in an industrial area that is adjacent to a desert with minimal landscape features, though which looks deserted. It seems to be in the distant future, though this perception was likely otherwise influenced by similar panoramas in science-fiction movies I had seen in real life.

I am confronted by talking dogs (or so it seems at first). The dogs are mostly Dobermans and black Labrador Retrievers. They seem to be some sort of task force to catch me and somehow bring me to their owners or force me to go in the direction of where their owners are. I am uncertain of the backstory. I am not sure if the dogs are meant to be owned by people who are legitimate owners of the property or if they were trained by outlaws who have taken over the industrial area. At first, I had considered if the dogs were on their own, of augmented intelligence, and in control of the area, but this seems less likely over time.

I am aware of the logo embossed on the metallic kite-shaped pendants on their collars being “K-9” as a play on “canine” (though my dream self does not seem fully understanding of this factor). It is not clear if this is the name of the industrial complex or the security team of solely dogs (or inclusive of their owners as a group). However, I start to consider if “K-9” is a codeword for the main dog and if other codes are on other collars, such as “L-10”, or “J-8”, which I seem to briefly perceive on another pendant.

Over time, I manage to escape from each situation, such as by climbing up higher in one case.

Eventually, I realize that the dogs are not talking but are being given instructions through some sort of comm device in their collars (which is what I had been hearing from the beginning), though I am sometimes addressed as well. I also get the impression that their collars also have small microphones. I eventually end up hiding out in a large warehouse, but not much happens after this other than initiating the usual doorway waking symbolism when my semi-lucidity returns.

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Morning of November 16, 1975. Sunday.



This dream repeated in a few variations. It is sort of a “trick dream” in that it includes what I think is a clever variation on the outcome of presumed events. I have had many like these but mostly when in my early teens. It is a typical “every man” archetype (or warning of mainstream western mentality) very similar to “I’m Eager Beaver”, which include people who pretend to know about dreams but have no clue, living behind a facade, shaping them into something far from the Source and with as much distraction and deception as possible.

The location is usually based to the east of my Cubitis home. It is not a large cow pasture in the dream, though, but a place called “Swamp Garden” (I do not believe this name was in the earliest version) - which is not really an area for tourists or anything - it is just what it is called by the locals. It is actually supposedly a dangerous place of which a lot of legends were supposedly born. I am not quite sure why it is called a garden other than the plants seemingly growing in rows like in a vegetable garden. There are cases where people go in to get special herbs and such. It does not seem that big of a swamp - it is actually quite sparse.

One of these legends of Swamp Garden related to a large mythical snake that supposedly has four large, equally-sized fangs in the top of his head (rather than the usual two main ones in rattlesnakes). It is possibly just a mutation. It is somewhat like a rattlesnake and also somewhat like a blue racer according to what people have reported. When I was young, a lot of myths and folklore were spread about various kinds of snakes, though I had heard nothing of a “four-fanged snake” in real life. The dream, in its variations, was sometimes more like a documentary (where I am following the character but not directly present) - other times more like a lucid sequence.

One of the people making a documentary tells of two bold encounters with the four-fanged snake. Over time, though, a clever twist is related in the dream. It turns out that they were two different snakes, one with a wider bite, so that the smaller snake, when coincidentally biting him on the back of the hand in the same general location - seemed to create an impression of four fang marks (supposedly caused by the one bite of the legendary creature). He becomes well-known for his encounter even though it was not what it seemed. He dramatizes the event through recreations of the encounter and makes it out to be long and eventful (even though in actuality it was just a couple brief nonvenomous snake bites).

On my own private journey (I am not filming anything or making a documentary), I actually encounter the snake, but there is no drama or fear. He remains in a large bush as I walk about in the area, but I am able to confirm that it is a large snake with four fangs. There is also a part where I also see a blue racer which is glowing and moving through a mist over the ground.

In one of the final versions of the dream, I stand on an embankment and say, almost lovingly, “I know you’re out there…" This was one of those dreams which starts out occurring mostly in fragments - then later becomes almost epic - then in versions later on, becomes slightly fragmented (though sometimes more personal) again.

Later, this came to be like a personal symbol for "every man” in mainstream culture in a way; for example, so-called psychics (who supposedly control their “abilities” and charge people for “advice”) as compared to so many people who experience spontaneous precognition on a regular basis far more than “commercial” psychics and never become known at all through their lifetime (which can only be a good thing). The swamp here represents the mystery of the Source, and the four-fanged snake, an aspect of the Source many people seemingly never confront in a lifetime for whatever reason.

Morning of November 15, 1975. Saturday.



In my dream, there is a small lake near an isolated cabin or as part of some sort of special tourist resort. At times, it is somewhat like a ski resort on the side of a high hill, even though it does not seem to be winter or with any snow around. When I am by myself each time, I see a plesiosaurus swimming about in the lake, watching this from a second-floor window from the south. It is not there when other people are around (and I do not go down the hill or go near the lake at any point) and so I am the only witness.

Eventually, after other people report seeing a caveman (a possible influence from the movie “Dinosaurus” from 1960) in the area (and yes, I know that cavemen and dinosaurs never coexisted - and in fact, most dinosaurs shown together in movies never coexisted either) it is decided that there will be a full investigation, including a “draining” of the lake (as if it were a large swimming pool). The lake is very old and it seems rather sad that they will drain it. When all the water is gone, it is seen that there is a skeleton (not really a fossil but a recent skeleton of one) of a plesiosaurus - as well as the skull of a caveman, so it then turns out that the lake was somehow haunted.

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Water in a lake getting shallower over time represents rising consciousness (with less dream self consciousness or “immersion”) and the dream ending. This dream state metaphor appeared in my dreams way back at age four. However, in some cases, there were precognitive revelations associated with the event. This one even has the implied draining, as the bathtub draining when a relaxing bath has finished (which may actually be the original childhood prototype for this metaphor).

The ski resort is a setting that represents the dream self’s acknowledged potential to quickly return to “ground zero” (or the waking state) though in this case, the focus was more on the lake as the indicator of possible control (or direction of thoughts within the dream, though I do not become lucid, only more focused). My dream seemed extended relating to the “haunting” (vague conscious awareness in the dream state). Ski resorts are quite rare in my dreams but always represent the same thing - a way to slide to “ground zero” (almost like an “escape route”) rather than just “falling” into the real self (though in lucid dreams I often deliberately jump from a cliff to increase awareness in lucid flight). It is similar to “skiing” quickly down a flight of steps to shift consciousness rather than walking down.

The plesiosaurus represents potential conscious imagination being active in the dream state (or even “above” the dream state) without being “lost” in the dream (or below the water’s surface). I mostly see this creature swimming at the lake’s surface level. The long neck above the lake’s surface is a hint here.

A skull is often an incomplete conscious thought or subtle focus. The nature of the conscious self is only vaguely perceived - not enough for the dream self to see as “reachable” for integration.

“Haunting” says it all. The very nature of this particular “haunting” with all the other elements seems like a sincere attempt to focus on both dream self and conscious self in the dream state at the same time and an interest in how dreams themselves “work” from a third perspective. Even with the different features, it seems very basic. (The cavemen represents the beginning of potential consciousness but does not complete its emergence in the dream.)

Morning of November 9, 1975. Sunday.



I have posted this dream before (on the original dream journal site), which has an almost epic feel in the main, longer version. This was on a fairly old online journal of years ago. I am not sure if this is the same version, but I think it is the longest and most detailed one. (Another version is where I became lucid and went off on a tangent so is fairly pointless, as it does not have the O. Henry ending.) The original title in my first journal entry of one was “The Sacred Rock of Thinking”. Over time, that did not sound quite right, so this is the present title I have stuck with.

I am in my ninth grade mathematics class with Mr. Forbes. For some reason, we are watching some sort of movie about archaeologists. (In another version, I believe it was my English class.) They seem, however, to be in light tan safari outfits. There are at least two men and at least two women. Over time, they enter a large cave and look around for a legendary rock that is supposed to materialize your thoughts into reality. They are carrying torches. I believe the rock may be a “lost” piece from Stonehenge. As they walk along, one of the women mentions something about bats, saying that she hopes that there are not any bats in the cave. Shortly after this, bats appear and fly close to them and they seem startled as more and more appear. Eventually, they are entering a larger area. There is an unusual boulder that is sort of an orange-yellow color, and with various hollow areas, almost reminding me of a giant sponge (but shaped like a somewhat partially flattened egg).

In a way, this boulder vaguely resembles an orange human brain.

At this point, I seem to be in the movie after thinking that “it would be interesting to be in the movie” as if the film of the rock alone actually caused this to happen (through the rock’s “power”). The other people look at me curiously, but walk on after a few strange glances at each other. For a short time, it is almost as if I can see out into the classroom until we go farther into the cave.

Soon, I am thinking that I would like to be back home in Cubitis in my backyard. Suddenly, I am there. The strange boulder is also there. It seems to be in a sort of pool though, or represent some sort of abstract design relating to a fountain. My friends visit, female classmate Sandra R and best friend Toby T. They find the sight rather strange. For some reason, Sandra mentions something about where my cat is, and uses the term “that bobcat of yours” (it was actually only a hybrid with a bobcat grandfather). Soon, an actual bobcat appears and is somewhat threatening. Toby does his “mock running away” at first before getting out of the area for real. This involves a mock march, singing “Over hill, over dale…sorry Dale!”

“I sure wish that animal wasn’t around here,” says Toby, loudly, and the animal is gone and Sandra comes out of hiding.

Over time, other strange things happen. Money comes and goes in strange ways, which is not always a precursor to a positive event. It starts after Sandra asks something about why the rock was a strange orange color and not gold - and so the rock turns into gold as well as having the power to materialize thoughts. Some (unknown, but possibly one being a classmate) people appear and break a couple thinner pieces off and leave (which means they may also have the power where thought is materialized unless there is something at the core of the original boulder). A helicopter appears overhead at one point, which seems to mean that the original exploration team has found me. A lift and hook of some kind is able to lift the rock several feet into the air by attaching to parts of its sponge-like exterior. “I wish that helicopter was elsewhere,” I shout, and the rock falls back into my backyard in the same position.

After a time, some sort of actual international war breaks out relative to where the rock is.

Someone says (possibly Sandra) “I wish this rock never existed”. And…

I am back in my class watching a movie about four people who are confused about why they suddenly find themselves in a cave. “What were we looking for again?” asks a puzzled woman, her voice blasting in a hypnopompic audio pulse upon waking.

Night of November 8, 1975. Saturday.



This long but disjointed dream (movie-like in implications) repeated in diverse segments over a longer time period. It was based on an accident Lisa M’s father was involved in when he left a can of gasoline sitting near a bonfire in bright early afternoon sunlight (in the backyard in Cubitis, located just near the border of the large weedy area that eventually met the train tracks) and it exploded. He was not burned fatally, though, just on his arms and chest for the most part.

In my dream, there is not much focus on continuity. The neighbor than becomes a super-villain going by the unlikely name of Gumbala (a possible play on Gumby - a claymation figure/character I could not stand to listen to or watch). (This was a day or so before I heard someone talking about gumbo - a word I was not really familiar with; a type of dish using okra, I think, which we grew to very large proportions, although I discovered I did not care for it; just liked growing it/watching how amazingly tall it got. It was like eating tough, slimy grass. I guess I needed cooking lessons or a better recipe.)

In my dream, I become aware of a possible “attack” by this demonic character (he does not seem quite human in my dream as a result of the accident - yet not a “real” demon in that regard - just a supposedly mutated “super-villain” with apparent special abilities of some kind) while in the new room my father had built. I duck down under the west wall’s single window. He announces himself and begins to take off his shirt to reveal his “real self”. I am aware that his “shirt” is actually a shirt of “false skin” (made from real skin, though, from his victims) to make people think he is not really a “monster”. Also, his unusual lizard-like “hands” are covered with gloves of artificial skin or worse, more skin of his victims (similar to Ed Gein’s crimes, which probably strongly influenced this dream - my brother-in-law Bob actually knew him; at least met him a few times). He is the only other character in my dream, most of which seemingly takes place late at night and very early morning. He has some sort of “lair” which is reached via a corner that turns about somewhat like a revolving door, but is “invisible” unless put into use.

In a way, I suppose this is partly a result of knowing how he lied to his daughter in real life (and I never fully told her about this) whereby her dog (a young, active dachshund) was dead (hit by a car on the very close highway) and he buried the dog in the weedy area near the train tracks (I actually saw him do this). He then got her a different “identical” dog, apparently without her noticing. Eventually, later on, she said she had thought that the dog might be a different one when I only vaguely suggested the idea it did not seem to be the same dog - but her saying that the “original” was probably living at a grandmother’s house in another town. A very similar event happened at our present address (but in this case, it was not even the same type of dog even though she tried to convince us it was the same dog). In all honesty, though, he was a good neighbor in real life.

Morning of November 7, 1975. Friday.



I am focused on both walking through the hallway (related to getting ready for school) and reading the day’s newspaper’s comic strips. There illogically seems to be more than one instance of the Peanuts comic strip though I only remember the contents of one with greater clarity. The style and general look of the art is exact (which is not always the case in these types of dreams).

There are three panels of Snoopy setting up a beach blanket and umbrella. In the last panel, is only the shape of Snoopy’s head implied to be covered with beach sand as his body from the neck down is also in the ground itself. A thought balloon clearly reads “I hate the sand”.

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As is often the case, this relates to coalescence and the waking stage. The sand covers him “at the end” (projected static dream self perspective no longer viable). I did not find any comic strips that could have influenced this dream unlike my dream where exact remote viewing occurred prior to seeing the same gag in real life (my utterly unexplainable Nancy Comic Strip dream with the exact same gag and wording). Comic strips are ordinarily the downsizing of the dream state to render it static for whatever reason (perhaps a subliminal attempt to “freeze” the dream to remain asleep for longer and yet still with a potential for continuity, the focus from panel to panel). Sand also relates to the passage of time (due to association with erosion), so in a way, that backs up the other implications (in wanting to sleep longer).

Night of November 5, 1965 to morning of November 6, 1965. Friday night to Saturday morning.



Summary: I dreamt a television-influenced scenario in real time, with the same soundtrack but mostly different imagery.

After extensive research, I have been able to pinpoint more data on one of the most vivid (but previously less documented) dreams of the later half of 1965. I have written about it several times in the past, but will detail as much as possible here. Curiously, it turns out to be yet another “unexplained” November 6th event (of which there is at least one for every year of my life) with heightened awareness and personal links as well as a deep nostalgia relating to certain dream states.

This was mostly a lucid dream (in that I knew I was dreaming and it was almost as vivid as real life) but I did not take control at any point. Also interesting was that my dream (the on-the-couch version) seemed to last more than a day. This is even in relation to the hour-long soundtrack of the show seeming extended over that long.

My dream occurred over about an hour, with several false awakenings as well as actual partial awakenings, but then it went into a “reset” (when I actually went to my own bed across the hall) and some of it repeated the next morning with other mixed dreams. It was basically caused by falling asleep at the beginning of the “Don’t Open Till Doomsday” episode of “The Outer Limits” television series. Although I was already seriously into dream work at this time (age four, almost five), this dream alone enhanced my interest greatly. I begin to watch the show in my sister’s Rose Street apartment, sitting on the couch on my own, but I was already quite tired, starting to have heavy eyes at the line “There is nothing wrong with your television set”, firstly falling asleep during this time.

Much of my dream occurred as I was lying on my right side on the couch but otherwise facing the television. The show was in black-and-white, but my dream was in vivid color. As with many other dreams, they remained far more detailed, memorable, and clear than the actual shows they were “scripted” by in real life (and with “better special effects” and more “realistic” in general). During the days without YouTube, Internet, and so on, it sometimes took a few years to confirm how details distorted relative to the original “script”.

One of the things that struck me in-dream was the eye that seemed to float in blackness but which was actually someone looking into the box at the miniature alien-monster from his side. This was probably one of the most internally influential images of the time. In reality, the actual creature looked (to me at the time) like a pile of dog poo with one eye stuck on. I noted this especially as I was, in liminal floating, trying to work out what was a dream and what was really on the television screen.

Also in my dream there was far more drama and action than the show that was actually on at the time, though the sound track was primarily the same (but again, seemingly over a much longer time period). In my dream, the monster was actually gigantic (instead of a miniature in a box) and was also green and orange and somewhat octopus-like (but with a mostly hairless gorilla-like head). At one point, I watch the giant creature (while seemingly disembodied) move through a large city, “walking” from left to right, its tentacles moving about, sometimes destroying buildings. In this case, there is also a scene where the eye appears in the sky as if in reference to the moon or another planet.

Near the end of my dream, there is a scene where a man is trying to hide from this giant creature that is hunting him (not at all anything like the show’s actual plot) and the creature “unknowingly” destroys a skyscraper the man is in. As the building collapses, the man free-falls outside the collapsing outer wall and even though it is a fall from around the twentieth floor, he survives with no injuries. After a typical in-dream “reset” I become the character in a similar replay.

Curiously, my relevant most coherent awakening occurred at the exact moment the hand-printed note was shown at the end of the episode (which read “Don’t Open Till Doomsday”) though I was still a bit groggy. From there I went to my own bed even though I had a few false awakenings where it seemed I had already. The line “If I cannot annihilate the world, I must uncreate myself…”, even though heard in my sleep at age four, was still clearly in my mind in my later teenage years, proof of strong influence in liminal states.

Night of November 2, 1965. Tuesday.



I consider this a paranormal dream for several reasons, including the fact that it repeated exactly many years later (as a surfacing memory, but I almost passed out in the intensity - one of the only times that this has ever happened in my lifetime in this manner as I was walking down the sidewalk at night) just before reaching my sister Marilyn’s house and hearing about my sister Carol having a heart attack. There was no prior clue to this event (and in fact, Carol was in possibly the lowest risk group for heart attacks, being a younger female and having no medical history as such in the family, but she did recover), and my “vision” (second occurrence of this dream) actually seemed to “tell” me this as well (before arriving at sister Marilyn’s house).

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This was a late night dream with possibly two layers, a real-life “replay” (or composite memory) of a visit from sister Carol later at night, and the superimposition of the giant bat.

I am viewing the scene directly, but I am possibly incorporeal, as it would seem I should be sleeping at the time. It seems fairly late at night. My sister Carol is visiting my home on Chipmunk Coulee. She has gotten out of the car and is in our front yard. I believe my parents come out to see her. She does not seem to acknowledge me.

Suddenly, from out of the dark of the night, comes a giant bat. It is about as great in wingspan as a car is long. My sister Carol ducks down with a sense of fear and puzzlement. I sense her emotions but do not feel threatened myself. Still, I do feel that something may “eventually” happen to her at a later date. It moves over her from only about three feet from the top of her head. There is no clear awareness of it other than the darkness, the wings, and the movement (for example, no sight of the bat’s “face”, feet, or more discernible wing detail).

The repeat of this vivid dream (I would say lucid as I did perceive it was only a vivid dream at one point, which was why there was not a stronger fear of it) was not at all like a usual surfacing memory but an actual “replay” that almost knocked me out and probably would have if not being slightly “faster” (or “time-compressed”) than the 1965 version at one point.

It is possible that the supraconscious only brought up this dream again, more “quickly” in unfolding to “match” the approaching event of learning about my sister Carol as this was the only dream I recall where sister Carol seemed to be in danger.

A “borrowed” dream to be “rewired” as precognitive? Either that, or I saw myself receiving the news many years ahead rather than an hour or so. There are different ways to look at all unexplainable events, “superstition” or “coincidence” being an unacceptable farce regarding an experience such as this.

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Induction factor: darkness of night. The setting is known and realistic and mostly private (though relatives are visiting). My parents are present as well as my sister Carol (half-sister on my mother’s side) and seemingly at least a couple other relatives. I have a very clear awareness but may be implied to be incorporeal though still perceiving everything at normal head height. Return flight factor features as a giant bat. The mood was of a growing awe but not a strong fear. Additional coalescence factor: the shadow. Possible explanation: This is an unexplainable one in how it vividly and exactly repeated in a precognitive sense (while not asleep) years later.

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Morning of November 2, 1975. Sunday.

Dream #: 3,240-02. Reading time (optimized): 1 min 30 sec.



There is an electrical surge in our kitchen and additional ones through all or most outlets in our house. It creates a “haunting” as well as a “portal” in the southwest bedroom.

I am in the living room when one of the two big brass fly ashtrays my father bought at the local flea market comes to life though is still made of brass. (No one in the house smoked. They were novelty items.) It walks across the ironing board, falls to the floor, and crawls toward the hallway, but is not threatening. It is a minion of the Man-Thing (as in the Marvel comic book) that cannot leave the southwest bedroom (which is across the hallway from our bathroom.)

The ironing board’s cover becomes like frogskin as it gains an artificial life force. It is not able to walk very well. The two human-like eyes on its narrow end, facing up, do not seem alive, making it into an “irony board.”

A portal that has opened in the southwest bedroom (the door remaining closed) has brought forth the swamp creature known as the Man-Thing. He cannot leave the bedroom even though the door is unlocked. (He does not know how to turn a doorknob). Now and then, a small telescopic radio antenna that seems to be a part of his body emerges from the keyhole. (The feature is not in the comic book.) It is dangerous only when a person is near the end of the hallway or in the bathroom. The swamp creature can be sent through the portal back into the radio. Supposedly, the electrical event hit the comic book cover from an outlet and a radio speaker and brought him here.

I wonder if I should use the bathroom or replace the fuse in the fuse box in the hallway. The radio antenna juts from the keyhole a few times (and back behind the closed bedroom door). I consider that if I go into the bathroom, the antenna might get me from the other side of the hallway (even though realistically, I could easily avoid it). As the Man-Thing “feeds on fear,” I do not want to show any apprehension. I sit down in the living room to watch television.

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Morning of October 27, 1965. Wednesday.



In this dream from age four, I had been exploring Myrick Park in La Crosse, seemingly on my own yet without concern. It is different than in reality, probably more influenced from larger zoo features (or perhaps even a jail from a Western) that I might have seen on television.

There is a brick wall that I notice has an open space, as if several bricks had been taken out. I consider the difference between seeing animals, which look like some sort of llamas combined with large dogs, seen through the vertical bars (on my left), and how the animals might eventually be able to escape through the opening in the brick wall (to my right). I consider that I should move away from the brick wall area so as not to encourage the animals to escape. There is not a feeling of fear, only wariness.

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This dream utilizes “wall breach waking symbolism” as a sustained waking transition, which has remained a lesser but consistent type of waking symbolism for over fifty years of devoted dream study and validation. It does not always have implications of possible danger. Still, a far more intense version can be seen with “Look Out for the Bull” from December 12, 1965 (though recurring), where a bull actually crashes through the wall (near a corner) in a relative’s house upon subliminal anticipation of the waking prompt.

Doorway waking symbolism (where a doorway is naturally rendered as the exit point of the dream state) has been far more common since early childhood. I do not think there is much difference between doorway waking symbolism and wall breach waking symbolism (as the dynamics work the same way, though more so with induction by contrast, in apex lucidity and conscious control of the dream state) other than perhaps the reticular activating system functioning with slightly different dynamics, which may be based on how fast or prioritized the preconscious dynamics are, which in turn may relate to how deep (or for how long) I have been sleeping or how loud the real environment’s ambiance is in intruding into the dream state.

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Resupplemented on Monday, 16 October 2017.

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Morning of October 27, 1965. Wednesday. Supplements added on Sunday, 23 July 2017.



A large hairy light brown monster opens a door at the very start of my short dream but seems about normal-sized for the doorway. About twenty tiny people (“tiny” as resolved in conscious afterthought only), all adult men and women; most nude, some dressed; are clinging to him as if he had magnetically attracted them with his fur. He seems annoyed, apparently not wanting all the people hanging on him, but this is only my first thought as a couple other ideas form prior to waking. I do not feel threatened as I seem to only be watching my dream even though I do seem to be at the location.

It seems to be taking place in my sister Marilyn’s apartment on 901 Rose Street, the creature coming into the room from the west side, though the floor seemingly has floorboards as seen in a Harvey “Casper the Friendly Ghost” comic book. There were no discernible features in the room, as if it was mostly empty. For a very short time, it also seems that some of the people may be trying to tackle the monster, but there is also a conflicting thought that the monster may be deliberately gathering the people with its magnetic fur to perhaps cook in a stew. There is no backstory to the scene. The monster stands in the doorway, growling as if possibly annoyed by “wearing” these people and my dream ends with a slight abdominal twitch (which is not unpleasant). It is apparent that the monster does not see me, though I may be invisible or incorporeal.

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Dreams often render “impossible” scenes that cannot be resolved consciously. In this case, my dream self perceives both the doorway and the people as of normal size. However, each person would have to be less than a foot tall to resolve the scene.

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This dream is a curious and intriguing blend of two forms of waking symbolism, and in fact, taught me a lot about the nature of dreams as well as remaining a facet of why I devoted my life to understanding them.

Coalescence waking symbolism: Near the end of a dream, as in this case, ambiguous elements sometimes combine, which represents different neural energies unifying by way of the emergent consciousness event (as this dream expresses the real-time metaphor of “gathering thoughts” during the waking transition). It is a function native to the dream state.

Doorway waking symbolism: As a doorway is mainly real-time exit symbolism (other than when it is used to initiate apex lucidity), a dream’s rendering of a doorway means nothing more than the dream changing in level of awareness or ending. To conceptualize that such waking symbolism evolved from my mother being in my bedroom’s doorway waking me up in the morning as a child may be moot, as such symbolism might have developed naturally, because waking up is a biological necessity.

Biological factor: Though this is only theoretical, my dream may also contain an analogy of white blood cells attacking a parasite, not necessarily relevant to my physical status, but my sister’s. (Dreams, including precognitive dreams, revealing the changing status of another person’s health, have occurred a number of times throughout my life.)

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Personal factor: It is known that the preconscious sometimes represents a parent (or other relative or any role of authority) regardless of the nature of the rendering. If that is the case here, it seems that it could be seen as motherly discomposure over a child being too clingy.

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The original title was “The Magnetic Monster”. In 1974, when copying my oldest dreams over to newer paper and notebooks and with more mature writing and better organization, I changed the title to “The Biomagnetic Monster”. It is doubtful that I had heard the word “biomagnetic” prior to that.

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• It has been validated that doorway waking symbolism is sometimes initiated by real environmental noise while I am sleeping. This adds to the likelihood of having otherwise evolved from my mother waking me up in the morning.
• The involuntary abdominal muscle movement upon waking is most common with doorway waking symbolism. I can actually trigger this event while conscious by placing myself in a heightened state of anticipation.

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Morning of October 19, 1975. Sunday.



I would not call this a nightmare even though the physical awareness and changes were quite extraordinary and somewhat unnerving. I wanted to wait a bit before posting this, until I was able to locate some of the older photos, but will post it now.

It is based on a cypress knee my father retrieved from a deeper area of the Florida swamps in 1967, I think. The intriguing thing about cypress knees is that they often take on amazingly lifelike but grotesque anthropomorphic forms. My father used to gather very large numbers of these cypress knees from deep swampy areas. He mostly only used either the anthropomorphic ones to make mostly lamps - ones that usually looked like arms with five-fingered hands in various positions, large “hands” on their own, legs with knees or “feet”, and so on, or ones that were really surreal-looking. He said he found one once that looked just like a pregnant woman standing in the reeds but was too big to retrieve. Apparently there are people who carve cypress knees, but many already look weird enough (my father never carved any, he just used them as they were with a bit of sanding and varnish and installed the wiring and sockets).

What annoyed me later on was that he painted the cypress knee he found which was so close to a ghoulish human-like head (not in exact shape, but with all the main features) that it was hard to believe it was a natural formation (unless you had the experiences of learning how fairly common anthropomorphic cypress knees were or how weird they were in general), but it was. He did this to bring out the startling “features” more from a distance. This cypress knee had two “bulging eyes” in the correct location, with even the seeming lid detail and the two irises, even. It also had two nearly perfect “ears” but which were mostly inward implied “ears”. It also had a raised triangular but skeletal-like nose formation, and two human-like “lips” (partly open) - and all of this was in the “correct” location when seen as a “head”. He made a lamp from it like everything else he found, but when it was returned by a person who was supposedly terrified by it (it was a gift I guess), he decided to keep it after taking the wiring out (which was just inserted through a small tunnel made by hand drilling) and jokingly called it a “Martian head” or “ghoul’s head” at times. It was also about the right size for a human head. A lot of people could not believe their eyes when they saw it (mostly unlearned city people, though, who had not been around nature much - and who to this day often think anything they had not seen in the city is unusual or actually “alien” - it boggles my mind, frankly).

My dream related to having fallen asleep on the bed in my father’s music room where he kept the knee on a dresser at the time. He had painted it white with other colors given to the detail of the “eyes”, “nose”, “lips”, and “ears”, mostly. (We never gave it a name, by the way). In my dream I am looking at it “face on”. I eventually feel myself rise up into the air and move towards it, sort of hovering. I then feel myself “splitting apart” into thousands of tiny gnat-sized pieces - an extremely strange awareness. I still would not call it a nightmare, as I did not panic as with actual nightmares. There was a sort of higher-pitched “buzzing”. This was not relative to sleep paralysis and was not as vivid as similar dreams of hovering and physically changing. This was much like an OBE I had heard people talk about but it did not have the “magnetic displacement” sensations that I had in events I considered to be actual out-of-body events (in terms of actual waking nerve energy perception - where I was awake with my eyes open and could see my limbs but only be able to move a “ghost limb” for a time).

I eventually got rid of it, although a relative may now have it (from retrieving it from things I had placed for removal - people did get things from there - but I am not certain of everything that people got). There are hundreds of other cypress lamps my father made out there somewhere. He retrieved and made more than most people in the 60s and 70s. A few of my relatives have older photos of the “head” somewhere (both originally unpainted and painted); I will try to post an image or two one day.

Morning of October 12, 1975. Sunday.

I am in some sort of movie being filmed or perhaps it is actually only a stage drama (although we do seem to be at a real location), which eventually is (or slowly becomes, or with a “reset”?) a real scenario and a real mystery a few people and I are trying to solve. I mostly work with an unknown female around my age. It takes place mostly within a large fancy mansion, but I only remember being on the first floor assuming there was a second floor. It has to do with a count that vanished and was possibly kidnapped. It has a strange and unexpected outcome. We find a message in small handwriting on the back of a painting on the wall (lower left-hand corner) in a large frame and it leads to finding the count’s body still in his bedroom and inside a mattress. It seems to be some sort of strange suicide. Although it is taking place in modern times, he is dressed in a very old-fashioned way, possibly 1700s. There may be a vague association with the Little Blue Boy painting (by Thomas Gainsborough), which my father had a print of, hanging on the west wall of his old room (for the longest period) in Cubitis, though the connection is not certain.

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Here, I once again subliminally seek the status of my real physical body. The count’s corpse being found inside the mattress is of course an obvious dream sign. The count’s corpse is obviously a subliminal distorted perception of my sleeping body (a dream sign of the first level).

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Night of October 10, 1965. Sunday.



This dream is not very complex, but is one of thousands that has been revelatory and proven to be of a long-term precognitive nature. In this case, however, it related to Susan R as the “other” rather than my yet-to-be wife. I believe this is relative to a deliberate play on “branching” from a so-called destiny point prior to becoming aware of it.

In my dream, I am not sure of the exact location. It is possibly based on an area near Chipmunk Coulee, but not higher on a bluff. There is a seemingly abandoned house which I believe faces east, with an older one-lane road running north/south. The large front yard is filled with several old, gnarled trees (not sure of the type, but possibly oak). I am not exactly sure if the house has a real-life version. It seems mostly unfamiliar - or at least I thought so at the time.

Over time, I learn that the trees were actually people who had been transformed by possibly a witch. These people were the family that had lived in the isolated abandoned house. They were of various ages even though they are now seemingly very old trees. They have large human-like faces, about double or more the size of a person’s (but still with all the characteristics of wood and bark). There is a slight similarity to the “I do not think that I want to be a tree” dream which actually did relate to the “mystery girl” (future wife).

I seem to be given the task of going into the house to find a cure or to give them some sort of (commercial?) medicine, which, while perhaps not making them human (although they can still seemingly talk and interact, just not uproot themselves and “walk” or move much at all), will still help them somehow. This theme repeated in a similar way (going to get medicine to help someone) in several other dreams - including the one with several short and long-term precognitive layers regarding my yet-to-be wife (regarding “The Tired Queen”). Over time, however, the mood and level of awareness changes, and I become aware that it is unlikely that the trees are actually human-like in any way. Nothing much happens after this. I have left out some personal information regarding connected scenes.

The long-term precognitive aspect of this is quite intriguing. This was one of the only, more precise dreams related directly to Susan R (the “other”) in its implications. In fifth grade, an unfriendly classmate, Bobby G (I believe the son of the school principal or boy’s dean), had (during the task given for each student to write stories for the lower grades), written his story about a “family of trees” (with the same title as my original dream summary at age four) that had human qualities, and one of the last parts being “had one tree” (meaning a “baby”) and living happily ever-after. My story was “King of the Birds”. The strange thing was, he bullied me the whole time on “birds can’t talk” while his story was about human-like trees having a human-like life (and also apparently talking in one way or another). This was so hilarious, I held no anger, as it made him appear quite idiotic (especially as there are certain types of birds that can “talk”, and the stories were “just stories” for younger students at that, some others of which also had the essence of fables).

During the same day, Susan first made it known (more clearly and seriously, anyway) we had some sort of “connection” (and this was long before I read anything on soul mates). She asked me to sign my name on her copy of my story. Bobby G asked if she wanted his and she made a negative sarcastic comment. This was one of those days that become “fixed” in my memory. I knew there was something unusual (and “unseen”, but more powerful and important than mankind in my view) going on but I could not understand it. Susan was one of only two people I was absolutely certain of a clearer “unexplainable” link (the other being my wife). I was the only one whose signature she wanted on her copy of a story.