memorable

From the night of December 23, 1966. Friday.

Dream #: 4-01. Reading time (optimized): 1 min 30 sec.



This dream (repeating at different levels of vividness several times on the same night, though chiefly from willing it) occurred three days after my sixth birthday. It started before midnight of December 23 while I slept in the second-floor apartment of 901 Rose Street in La Crosse, Wisconsin.

Its primary causation is simply a different version of the first microdream that I have had virtually every sleep cycle to date (as of October 19, 2020) when I am walking with a vivid awareness of imaginary kinaesthesia and suddenly fall into wakefulness with myoclonus. The main difference, other than its unique content, originates from the predominant degree of sleep atonia resulting in a dream of a longer length than the common microdream I have described here.

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In my dream, it is late at night, and no other person seems to be awake. It is dark. I walk on the back roof of the Rose Street building (accessible from the second floor by way of a door at the end of a hallway), with liminal dream state awareness. I think of using the fire escape at the back of the building to descend to the parking area. When I start to step onto it, it is no longer present. A more realistic version of the Shadow Cat from “Gay Purr-ee” (1962) is suddenly holding onto my hand as I remain in the dream, though in undefined liminal space for a time.

I entered different versions of my dream several times in the same sleep cycle. In one instance, I descended the stairs. In another, I chose not to walk to the edge, though in another, I floated.

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Other than the usual causation, more specific influences in this case mainly come from the musical scenes in the animated movie. It includes the lines “If anyone can save you, the money cat can!” and “In the palm of our paw” from “The Money Cat.” Of lesser influence was “Show me the way to all my dreams” and “and be seen hand-in-hand with Paree” from “Take My Hand, Paree.”

Because of this dreaming experience, I began to develop an advanced understanding of dream control, liminality, and dream content causation in a world where virtually everything I read about dreams is the result of misconception.

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Night of December 16, 1966. Friday.



This was recurring from when I was very young. I believe there were a few versions that occurred in the middle of the night. In one version, in one journal, I had decided that the opossums may actually be small foxes (even though that really was not very reasonable), so I wrote a poem called “Foxes in the Trees” in real life, yet later decided that I should not change things, so I came to have an internal self-fulfilling symbolism of the opossums being the “princes of the trees”. Being watched by mysterious animal eyes is probably a universal theme in children’s dreams regardless of race or culture, but I am only guessing that based on my own early experiences in dream work.

It is late at night and I am in the woods, I assume in an area of Chipmunk Coulee farther from where I had actually lived in that region.

I am near a tree in which there are a few opossums on the branches but all I can see are their eerie glowing eyes (and in later versions, the lighter heart-shaped areas of their faces). It seems these opossums are some sort of guardians that are supposed to follow me and protect me in some unknown way. I pretend not to notice them because I do not want to cause trouble or perhaps draw attention to myself in this unfamiliar landscape.

In the distance is a long, winding path of an unusual (almost a sequence of Z-shaped turns) path where some areas seem to be dead forests. The moon (or sun in a rather “bad” dream rendering?) seems to be a black shadow hanging in the sky rather than the “real” moon or sun. This unusual area seems to be very similar to my “Empty Boots” dream found here: http://blue-opossum.tumblr.com/post/...75/empty-boots

Morning of November 29, 1976. Monday.



My older brother Earl (half-brother on my mother’s side whose father died on September 23, 1950, age 39, in a newspaper van accident) is in the process of completing his work in building a spacecraft which looks like the classic 1950s flying saucer, at first (though the appearance changes). He tests it around town and people often stop to see what is going on. I am with a friend and he also seems interested in this endeavor.

In the last part of my dream it seems my brother intends on leaving Earth and not coming back. The flying saucer takes off ominously into the sky in the afternoon and narrowly misses a clock tower, flying very slowly at first, nearly hovering in one spot at times. There is a very vivid awareness at this point. Regardless of a couple near misses with the tops of buildings, it successfully flies away. At this point it looks a lot like the Flying Sub from the television series “Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea”. Shortly after this, I do not see any sign of where he has gone.

My (unfamiliar supposed classmate) friend and I are discussing his life as we are walking along through an alley, seemingly south. He asks me, “How old was your brother?” and I say “Thirty-six,” waking up slowly to the unusual sadness in my voice.

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I had to do a lot of research on this to make sure it presently stands as correct as possible (regardless of later versions which have proven to be even more ambiguous). My brother died on November 29, 2007 (age 67, way too young in my opinion), so there is indeed a (long-term precognitive) marker here, one clue (unknown at the time) being the clock tower.

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This dream has the typical waking transition of the flight symbol, but it appears as an extraordinary atypical composite (with layered meaning) here, firstly as a flight symbol that metaphorically shows the essence of the dreamer successfully leaving the dream state (in contrast to the far more common directly perceived “falling” event). However, it is a “flying sub” which means it also comes from deep within the unconscious (or even collective conscious or the Source’s) realm. It is also a spaceship, which relates to tentative associations between waking self and full conscious self memory. I should add an additional note here that my brother also owned a Stingray (car), and of which the marine animal called a stingray resembles the Flying Sub. This dream also seems like a subtle “continuation” of my “Rocket Science?” dream, from earlier this year.

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Just because a dream is influenced by, say, television, does not mean it is dismissible. The foundations of non-lucid dreams will borrow anything and everything to metaphorically display the sleeping, dreaming, and waking process. The day before this dream, I had seen a CBS report on UFOS as well as as Nova’s “The Case of the Bermuda Triangle” (featuring the ocean of course and loosely associated with UFOs, perhaps even “flying subs”).

Late morning of October 17, 1976. Sunday. (There were other versions which played out more like semi-lucid reconstructions, as this dream was more like a very interesting coherent story than is usually the case.)



There apparently is going to be a movie made of a class play regarding issues on pollution and habitat loss. I am to be the main performer in the opening of the film, which will supposedly be distributed to a larger audience. There is a sketchy mascot, a beaver, related to the line, “You too can be an eager beaver and help stop pollution”. The movie is to be made at a city dump which happens to be near a large otherwise clean lake where logging had been done at one time. The mascot drawing is not very good and reminds me somewhat of “Go Go Gophers” and he appears in a concentric oval frame with lines going outward around between the two ovals, with the school logo above that and with the antipollution line under that.

I arrive at the location too early. The season and feeling seem much as in real life regarding the temperature and such. There is an old and worn dingy sofa on a pile of rubbish at the dumping area where I am to sit and converse with the puppet beaver. I wait for awhile in case the camera had already been set up. After a few minutes, the beaver comes up through a hole in the seat of the upholstery, the arm of the controller likely under the cushion or near the back of the couch. I seem to remember most of my lines, most of which are simple questions of which the beaver is supposed to answer. As time passes, I notice how amazingly “real” the beaver puppet appears to be. Not only that, I am aware that the communication from the beaver seems telepathic in nature. I find this a very strange and intriguing “film trick” and wonder how they are doing it - possibly with speakers on each side of my head, but at a distance and in an unnoticeable area, probably hidden.

I look around but I try not to absentmindedly search for the camera that is filming the interaction. Everything is going well and I feel very assertive in my performance. The beaver says its last line and then is gone.

Soon though, I notice a station wagon coming around the curve of the road. A man gets out and sets up a tripod about ten feet from the bank of the lake. There are also at least three of my classmates in the vehicle but I am unsure who. I am now unsure of what is going on. After a time, I feel movement and look down and a very ugly cartoon-like allover orange beaver puppet, which reminds me of the texture and color of my Nerf ball, has emerged from the hole to my right. This beaver puppet has mismatched googly eyes that roll around a bit as it moves and its voice is very annoying; scratchy, squeaky, and slightly muffled. I am not sure what happened to the realistic puppet of minutes before. After the scene is filmed, the puppet “bites” me on the fingers and hand (and I experience realistic discomfort in my fingers) and the unknown male controller is playing around and really annoying me.

I get up and look at the lake and I realize that the first beaver was “real”; that is, an actual living animal that was supposedly “speaking” telepathically, yet no one else had been around at the time. Its head emerges from the lake at a fair distance and nods and I “hear” the phrase “and now you know”.

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I remained intrigued by this dream. The overall plot was very unique and did not reflect anything I had thought of in waking life. At its core, it is doubly-layered autosymbolism for the nature of lucidity, even though I am not viably lucid in this version. A puppet represents both the fictitious nature of the dream self identity (as manipulated by RAS and the preconscious) but also the potential for controlling the dream state as one would a puppet show.

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On a spiritual level, it might also serve as an analogy for everyman, when the general public allows themselves to be controlled by an invalid belief system even when truth has already clearly revealed itself.

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Morning of October 3, 1976. Sunday.



I travel in a car with good friend Johnny C as the driver (same car he had in real life and this scenario being similar to real life to a point), best friend Toby T, and three girls including Tina L (so I guess the car was apparently crowded but did not seem as such). There is a recurring idea that was very common in dreams of this time period. The idea of moving through time or into “alternate worlds” based on a series of directions alone. I am semi-lucid but not “take full control” lucid, as I did not seem to want to be at this stage, just so I could passively enjoy things.

I am in the back seat on the right side. We are going north at one point. There is the idea that we should stop near my Cubitis home to see how it has changed. We decide to make my house the main destination through different “alternate worlds” or “alternate times”.

Upon our first stop, we find the house has changed into a laboratory but it has seemingly been abandoned. I see a beautiful painting on the east wall in my room that shows strange birds. They look like ordinary birds except that they have “sideways beaks” that I realize are exactly like the mandibles of a stag beetle. I feel a very strange awareness upon seeing this, an unusual feeling I cannot quite relate. I also notice a few pinned-up diagrams and scattered papers with various complex equations sitting on a desk. For some reason, I think of them as “byrds” with understanding of the different spelling.

We leave and come back into a different “time”. This time the place does not seem abandoned and one man is there to say that we are allowed to look around but not to touch anything. Going onto the carport, we see cages on the left. There are about three larger cages with strange creatures in them. One is like a peacock with snakelike features and it hisses and “strikes” at us but only succeeds in hitting the bars. I notice that our chicken shed is still there but built up a bit.

Once again, we leave and “come back”. This time, the house is abandoned again. We look around and mostly only find dusty ground and rusty pieces of metal. As there is not much to see, Toby T suggests going “as far as possible”. Johnny C seems hesitant, but we are on our way.

There is a strange sensation of moving very swiftly. We seem to be thousands of years in the future. We look out and see a strange sight. The house is very different (or likely a different building) and there are some strange creatures. It seems a “mother creature” is communicating with her “son”, who is standing near an upper-section-opened Dutch door to what looks somewhat like a barn (upper half open). They are somewhat human in form, but also a bit more like mostly white, living ceramic chickens with a Chinese appearance and with very small but defined simple geometric patterns (in mostly red and black) all over the large heads and smaller thinner bodies. They are making a sort of higher-pitched crunching noise to communicate by moving their “beaks” which is not really a beak but like some sort of small sliding door that varies in sound to how far it is open at any given time. The “mother” is somewhat wary of us, which is why she wants to get her “son” (about half as tall as “her”) and go inside.

We decide to go back. However, we end up taking a wrong turn, it seems (seemingly based on something Toby said), as the car goes flying westerly over an embankment and into Lettuce Lake. We all escape, but Johnny is annoyed at having lost his car. (There is also an idea that the land features may have changed when traveling through different time periods rather than solely misdirection.)

Notes on the bird relevance in this dream: Firstly, the living ceramic chicken (somewhat anthropomorphic) in this dream is perceived as being an incarnation of me (as the dreamer) at the “end of time”. It is curious how it is near the Dutch door. As a door represents the waking point (or shift in awareness), but here has only the top half open, it is a very curious reference to a false awakening (as well as a seeming invitation to be above as opposed to below - possibly suggesting rising from the end of the dream rather than the usual “falling”), which does occur, but still with continuation of seemingly the “same” dream. (Johnny’s car ends up in the water, which, even though water is often induction, is more relative to the “falling” waking transition here.)

Addressing the two other odd bird forms here, the serpentine peacock that hisses from the cage is a form of “captured flight” (restricted emotional, sexual, or spiritual freedom in the dream state). Even though the dream is very vivid, I do not become viably lucid. It may also be an association from when I heard that people thought that a peacock feather was an “evil eye” which may be linked to the fact that the peacock also had snakelike aspects. This of course is an absurd idea that I never considered as having any merit, but dreams utilize anything and everything (including the nonsensical beliefs of humanity) to teach viable focus and discernment. The other odd distortion, a painting of flying birds (which may otherwise be implied to be sparrows) with the sideways “beaks” (mandibles) of stag beetles, is relevant to the greater understanding of dream composites in general. The fact that these flying birds and beetle composites are only in a painting is a giveaway relating to the two other nonflying bird symbols and the failure to become lucid or resolve the concept of freedom. My dream self is not able to resolve why these birds are “wrong” either, only that they are somehow unusual. I even think of them as “byrds” rather than “birds” while in the dream state.

Morning of September 30, 1966. Friday.



In my dream, I somehow find myself back in the forest I used to play in (up in the bluff region) before moving down into town on Rose Street. It seems to be early morning, during sunrise.

In a deeper part of the forest and mainly near a large tree near a cluster of bushes, forming somewhat of an implied semicircular arrangement, I see a pile of life-sized dolls or mannequins which I soon realize are my actual classmates who have been transformed by our teacher Mrs. Yandell. Their arms are freely out and some of them are in pajamas. Somewhat puzzled, I consider whether or not if I am also there somewhere, even though I am fully in-body in my dream self’s perspective. The scene is eerie but no violence is implied. (Our teacher is not present at any point.)

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This dream, like many, is extraordinarily easy to understand. I am seeing my classmates in their static sleeping form, as a doll or mannequin represents being asleep, as well as lesser patterns of active conscious threads within the dream state. This metaphorical meaning also links to dreams representing circadian rhythms in various ways. There are several layers of validation in understanding this but I will keep it simple here. They are in a semicircular pattern deep in the forest. The forest is a deeper level of the dream state or the unconscious realm (as mostly anything away from day to day “civilization” is). I do not recall (or it was not documented) the waking transition of this particular dream. They are “arranged” as such due to (threads of) my conscious self attempting to quantify and “organize” facets of the dream state.

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Night of September 9, 1976. Thursday.



One of the worst nights of pain based on the operation on my right thumb (on the 25th of August) and wrist (and much tissue removed), a cobra strikes me on my thumb in my dream, extraordinarily vivid and bright in the backyard (Cubitis), seemingly in early morning.

Finally, my mother gives me a stronger painkiller again and I slip into an extraordinarily vivid and lucid dream. I am rolling down an embankment head over heals, along a grassy hillside, doing “perfect” somersaults with no physical discomfort whatsoever, and in fact, feeling quite peaceful and blissful. I roll into a river of mist. It looks like a normal river and in an otherwise normal meadow-like area, but instead is made of flowing foggy tendrils instead of running water. I am heading into a “bottomless” domain, much like Alice on morphine, I suppose, and am completely free from all discomfort and concern.

I “land” softly in a hallway after moving downwards through the mist for a seemingly long time, which appears to be the set for some sort of avant-garde movie called “Hello Harry”. It is about a young businessman who dies at an early age on his birthday (late twenties, I think). All of the other workers at the business, both male and female (but mostly male) benefit only from his work (and do little themselves) - yet he is mostly disliked by his business associates. This seems to imply that the business will now fail since he has died (though he is not the manager - there may be some sort of very subtle connection to “Gunga Din” by vague implications), without the other associates knowing or acknowledging his role in keeping the business going, possibly as the best or most dynamic salesman (and may actually come in part from having read “Death of a Salesman” at an earlier date, as I did read the 1949 play sometime during this period). He only has one good friend who mourns him. I “float” into a room with concrete walls and floor and see that the man who had been his friend is drinking too much from a bottle of gin and “celebrating” his friend’s birthday while wearing a multicolored cone-shaped cardboard hat (with red “V” or boomerang shapes) and a red tinsel lei. The remains are in a coffin in an adjoining smaller room. The rooms are mostly featureless and appear to be part of some sort of large basement, but possibly in the commercial building where he died. (It is possible he may be cremated in the business’s furnace, but I am not certain.)

The man (name unknown, I only know the dead man’s name is Harry - the other man could be Willy) goes into the smaller room and places a cocktail glass of gin on the coffin and takes one final drink from his cocktail glass and slowly and mournfully sings (to Harry) “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you…” (obviously not expecting an “answer” of any kind, as he is the only one there and the other man has died the day or so before).

However, a clear voice comes from the closed coffin and it is supposedly Harry (even though he has actually died) also mournfully singing…“Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me…”

This is the last scene and it seems to have some sort of science-fiction-like theme as well as the avant-garde movie essence.

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Night of August 18, 1966. Thursday.



This is probably one of my first more precisely documented dreams over time. It was recurring and lucid in some versions. One might think this would be a nightmare, but not even close, just a sense of childlike awe and wonder and likely my first tulpa-creating attempt within a dream state.

My dream usually starts at the Concordia Ballroom (at 1129 La Crosse Street) where my father often performed in real life. It is fairly late at night. I danced there in reality at the time, but in my dream, things are quite different. The Concordia building seems to be oriented perpendicular to actuality. There are also a lot of cars that seem more of a late 1940s style than the 1960s.

Not only that, I end up wandering off into the darkness, yet seeing that a large barn…yes…a barn - exists just down the street a short distance from the Concordia Ballroom.

In the barn it is semi-dark. Cobras are certainly not to be found in Wisconsin (in the wild, anyway), but there is a cobra in the hayloft (and only ever one). It is mostly black with a bit of yellowish orange. In some versions (even later on, as it got colder in real life), I wait expectantly, but wake up before it appears (almost as if it had to appear before I could leave my dream with “better confidence” - hard to explain). Sometimes it seems to be a long time for me to be standing there. No drama happens. No one comes looking for me. I do not think of climbing up to the hayloft at all. The cobra is high above in the hayloft, upright, around the middle area, and is no real threat. There seems to be a mystical atmosphere over the whole time period with similar dreams.

Night of August 13, 1976. Friday.



I am within a continuity of false awakenings. There is a somewhat uneasy sense that someone else - a stranger - had somehow gotten into the house. This is unrealistic, as my bed is actually blocking the unused jalousie-window door to the carport (which opens inward). However, there is a shadowy form that I am sure is an intruder. It turns out to be a balding man in a loose, white, robe-like outfit and with some sort of medical kit in a metallic brief case, similar in size and shape to my real-life typewriter case which I then used for part of my Matchbox car, Johnny Lightning, and Hot Wheels collection. For some reason, I get the impression that he is “from Saturn” even though he seems fully human and from Earth. This seems based on some sot of hypnotic muttering he continues with and it is something to do with male surrogate “pregnancy” for an experimental reptile-like offspring, the area of the thumb being the ideal location for several reasons (including a natural tendency to draw the hand forward in defense). I seem to be part of some sort of unorthodox experiment conducted by a publicly unrevealed department of government.

I am unable to move or react as I am in a state of sleep paralysis, but not as vivid as usual. He injects something into my right thumb. I feel I need to escape as soon as possible. The utensil he uses is like a cross between a hypodermic needle, an ankh, and small scissors. There are various other objects similar to this in his case. I somehow manage to get out of my bed and try to get into the living room, but my dream “resets” and repeats a few times, and there is eventually a perception of needles moving on their own towards my right thumb, though possibly relating to some sort of implied magnetic remote control. They seem to fly “in formation” (like a flock of birds in a V-shape) at one point.

This, being one of the few actually disturbing dreams I have had in my life, was part of a relentless change. A few days later in real life, there was a rather small lump growing from the outer side of my right thumb which I only absentmindedly noticed when playing around with a metal band from a cheaper dismantled microphone and wondering why it had not fit on my thumb as it had the day before. Within days, there were five very large egg-shaped lumps (all exactly the same size) going down from my thumb to my wrist. They were apparently atypical ganglion cysts but had hair and bone tissue mixed in (almost like a miniature part of a Siamese twin). The doctor seemed extremely puzzled about the condition of my hand, asked me some unusual questions such as if I had “been putting things in there” which seemed ludicrous to me as there were no signs of cuts or supposed entry points and I certainly would not do something of that nature.

Because of the surgery and hospital stay, I missed the beginning of tenth grade, and eventually (when returning on September 13th), due to problematic scenarios in the school (such as a couple teachers not even spending time in the classroom while the students went crazy throwing knives and orange peels) I no longer went (stopping in October before I was legally “allowed” to though there was only one visit from the police) and got my GED in Wisconsin in 1979, getting told I had the highest results by any student at that time - which was not saying much based on how the other students looked and acted.

This also related directly to a much older precognitive dream (with several levels of precognition at once including seeing a movie that did not even exist at that earlier time - the usually low-rated one with the giant rabbits called “Night of the Lepus”). There was a lot of legitimate mystery around this and I have mentioned this in a few other entries, including in the original “Old Shack” dream documentation.

We left Florida in the last week of June of 1978 (with help from my sister Marilyn and her husband Bob). Looking at Google maps, I have discovered that my playmate’s house turned out to look exactly like it did in many of my earlier dreams - that is, abandoned, mold all over, and covered with vines. No one had lived there very long after my spiritual “outburst” after she moved (two different families actually going in for psychiatric help - Larry D actually killing most of his chickens, some escaping, after giving them a long speech about “not delivering eggs as promised”).

Whether or not this was based on long-term physical precognition (or some sort of natural cellular awareness) because of the additional childhood dream of my right thumb becoming enlarged and painful or perhaps was additionally triggered by a vivid dream state (and the very strange sounds and energies that come with sleep paralysis), is hard to say. I know I have often healed myself in dreams and meditation (even as a toddler regarding the accident with my left wrist and almost losing that hand), so I suppose the opposite is just as possible or even likely, even with the foreshadowing many years ahead.

Morning of July 5, 1966. Tuesday.



This was recurring from this time period (after the Fourth of July in 1966) associated with an actual visit to a park; Veterans Memorial Park Campground in Wisconsin. My older sister Carol (half-sister on mother’s side) seems the strongest presence in my dreams for a time, with other older relatives also in the area including my older brother Jim (though only relatives from my mother’s side) and usually no other (either generic or unknown) additional characters. The area seems more isolated than in reality and somewhat bushy though there is an open area where a large house supposedly once stood. All that is left is the fireplace and part of the chimney. However, there is ambiguity here in that it also seems like a brick barbecue deliberately made for the park or at least is apparently mistaken for one or considered as such according to my dream’s back story. There is some uncertainty whether or not to use it or to look for another one (even though no one seems to be carrying food or other supplies). There were several variations of this dream, not that well-documented as I was only five years old at the time, though it is one of my first known recurring dreams. This dream series may have just been caused by a visual association; that is, the similar appearance between a residential fireplace (especially from actual ruins I likely would have have seen) and an outside brick barbecue. I am glad I have these wondrous memories.

Morning of July 4, 1976. Sunday.



There is something called a “time divergence” (my original 1976 dream journal title being “Time Diverge”, which I changed after more fully understanding “diverge” was only used as a verb while “divergence” was the event itself and sounded better as a proper title) which is based around my Cubitis home. This has something to do with the appearance of a black sheepdog, at times, carrying a miniature keg as in some cartoons. Time breaks off into a different timeline whenever this black sheepdog makes an entry from somewhere (from near or off Highway Seventeen to the west). All of the spirits of all of the United States presidents (or at least the more respected or more familiar ones) meet in my living room around a large rectangular table (longways north to south from the north wall), to plan how they may inspire or help humanity. I play the “shadow game” (testing to see if a shadow that is matching my movements in my dream is really mine - though it always turns out to be). George Washington and Abraham Lincoln are there for certain, along with a few other more familiar ones. There is not much drama; I mostly only watch and listen to the meetings, which are mostly in semidarkness, where no faces can be directly made out for the most part. The black sheepdog seems to be there to help people move on into “different futures” from where they are originally headed or something. I rarely (in my earlier childhood) dreamt of any positive associations with dogs. There is even a slight eeriness associated here, but no personal threat perceived.

There is also a device made of (semi-matte silver) metal that seems to be used for changing the direction or potential of “alternate” timelines (perhaps as if to bring all facets of time together into one “time stream”). It has a secret compartment - relative to a diagonal lid inside, and a hidden one past that - and is the same size as the larger rectangular box that contained Velveeta cheese at the time - but mostly like a matte silver trap for smaller mammals that we used in real life in school (grades six to eight).

Although I do not consider this dream to be predominantly precognitive, it occurred before I knew much about the “Hall of Presidents” in Disney World, even though I had been in Disney World in 1974 with my sister Marilyn and her husband, though did not see that attraction.

Night of July 2, 1976. Friday.



My brother Earl has been living in Wisconsin (in reality as well) but comes back to Florida on a vacation, I believe (possibly relating to the Bicentennial, which seems to be related to something on television at a lower volume in the background in the northeast corner). A lot of his belongings are in our Cubitis home in the living room. There is a black microscope (I owned a real one, neither a toy nor of cheap plastic in reality) and a lot of other things, including test tubes and such, somewhat like a makeshift laboratory. Most of the stuff is set up in the southwest corner of the living room on a very large table. There is a very vivid but eerie atmosphere.

He is talking loudly and clearly for quite some time while mostly standing in the northeast area of the room, but I do not seem to grasp a word he is saying at any point (it may be related to the television also being on, but again, it is not that loud). I know it has something to do with rocket science but that is about all that I get out of it.

Suddenly, there is even a more intense feeling in the room. A sheet of typing paper hovers in the air for a short time near the ceiling - and then flutters loudly at a forty-five degree angle downward, making the pattern of an implied staircase as it moves. I am not sure what this means. The air itself seems to vibrate with hidden energies.

Later on, I am on the carport and see a strange vehicle in the sky just beyond and above the other side of Highway Seventeen, to the west. It looks like a school bus with helicopter rotaries that also resemble umbrellas. It moves apart and back a little bit (and very evenly, almost unnoticeable) like the middle has large “accordion bellows” holding it together. The helicopter rotary also moves up and down as it flies very slowly across the sky to the north, making a lot of odd noises and a lot of lighter gray smoke. For some reason, it also seems very ancient, like from the 1400s.

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Morning of April 10, 1976. Saturday.



There is some sort of very rare and special type of larger grouse (though more quail-like in some ways) in the backyard at Cubitis, though their size may be a typical in-dream magnification of perspective. It is supposedly “sacred” and has some sort of incredible ability to prey on humans at times as well as supposedly send human-like emotions apparently telepathically to disorient people. There are about six or seven in the yard at one point, and I am not sure if it is a good idea to even be outside.

I somehow fall down near the south side of the shed (fairly close to the carport) and feel an intense and bizarre sensation like a “deep tickle” in my side and lower back, which I have had on and off all my life, especially more recently. I am aware that I have fallen on one of these “sacred grouse” and thus may be doomed because of this. I see one of them closer to my face as it walks nearer and I feel a deep sense of awe.

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This was similar to a number of other in-dream premonitory events, including the dog with the knife-like nose, the buzzard’s beak, and several others. They all involve this intense spasm in my lower back that is like a mix of unbearable pleasure and a strange mild pain.

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Induction factor: water (man-made; birdbath made by my father for my mother). The setting is known and realistic and mostly private (backyard sometimes shared with friends). There are no other characters directly seen, though I sense my father is also in the backyard. I have a greatly enhanced awareness of my physical body, movement, and weight. Return flight factor features as a large quail or grouse with unrealistic intelligence and human-like sentience. The mood was of a growing awe and eventual mortal fear. Additional coalescence factor: ground (soil), coalescence (as my body inexplicably falling on the bird with the belief I may have crushed it) with the belief that I am dead or at least paralyzed for a long time. Possible explanation: Unknown, other than the back spasm event - but premonitory or causal? I seem to have “died” in this dream, but only my temporary dream self incarnation came to an end here. My father raised quail at the time, though much smaller than the birds in my dream.

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Morning of April 9, 1966. Saturday.



This, I believe is the first version of this dream, a day before Easter.

I am in an unknown region. There is an isolated house in the forest but near a winding path. Oddly, the house seems “cut in half” in that some outer walls seem to be missing but a family still lives there. The imagery is intriguing and appeared in other dreams with different themes later on, including some featuring the “mystery girl”.

I am aware of a real, living wolf, but am also aware of the “ghost” of Little Red Riding Hood, who is wearing a white riding hood and is mostly glowing all over, a white light with a lighter bluish tint. She seems somewhat sad and lost. I talk with her but do not recall the conversation - there is an unusual awareness of peace at one point as if she is to be a long-term part of my life. The association may be related to a basket she is carrying being filled with Easter eggs, but I also get the impression they will hatch at a later date rather than being eaten. Even though my dream implies she is a spirit and that the wolf has possibly already eaten her, there is still a strong presence of her in my dream. She is dark-haired and green-eyed and very pretty. There is no direct threat from the wolf although I do see it looking down from a ridge in Chipmunk Coulee (recurring).

Interestingly, the only other time I saw this precise dream imagery was of an actual “incomplete” house in a photo my wife-to-be had sent to me many years later. This, like many other dreams, seemed to establish a connection to my beautiful wife (and “dream girl”) a couple years or so before she was even born.

Afternoon of April 9, 1976. Friday.



I had fallen asleep in my father’s original room in Cubitis that he also used as a music studio (until he bought the matte silver bus he kept parked in the backyard and by this time also had the new room he built into the carport). My mother sometimes sat near the south windows when writing letters to various friends and relatives.

In my dream, I am hovering upside-down, seemingly in the fetal position, in a vast expanse of darkness, both to each side of me and at least below me. It is not quite like my prenatal memories in that it does not have a sense of being in two places at the same time and no immediate “walls” around me. I do have a sense of comfort, but also feel a bit displaced. I am trying to recall my dream that I was apparently “pulled out of”, thinking I must be awake now but am not sure of the setting I am in or why I seem to be hovering like this. My perception is about as vivid as possible for such a dream. I cannot see anything but my physical orientation seems as “real” as real life regardless of the unusual position.

Suddenly, I hear the mystery girl’s voice (long-term precognitive wife-to-be presence) calling out “Honey…honey…” (louder the second time) almost as if it is an attempt to get my attention with the assumption that I am sleeping, though again I cannot see anything. This causes me to begin to question what is going on, though my dream is too short to think too much about it. I know it cannot be my mother (especially as she has a much older-sounding voice) because I perceive myself as an adult for some reason (as well as maintaining a growing lucidity where I seem to be awake and asleep at the same time and trying to work out why the mystery girl wants me - I also feel intensely connected to a “different time”) and perhaps sleeping next to my partner while coming out of sleep because of her calling me. I come out of my dream fairly quickly (with a sudden somewhat startling shift in my physical perspective) and it is almost like the sound was actually perceived, with the residual faux echo (much as in real life when the consciousness is slightly shifted from being very tired and there is a faux echo when anything is spoken - something to do with slowed-down short-term memory, I think). This was one of my most vivid dreams during this time period as well as quite puzzling in terms of orientation and perspective. Of course, the voice matched my yet-to-be wife when I did talk to her on the telephone years later. This is one of thousands of dreams that validated who she was. Without a cue or clue from me (and although it is a common term of endearment), “honey” was the first thing my wife-to-be called me when we first started talking and even after twenty years, she is the only one I have ever heard with her particular unique accent and vocal nuances.