memorable

Morning of December 12, 1965. Sunday.



Summary of meaning: In the need to wake from a vivid dream state (from needing to get up and use the bathroom), my emergent consciousness is rendered as a bull crashing through the wall, as a wall symbolizes the metaphorical divisions of consciousness and the “other side of liminal space” between dreaming and waking. In this case, it seems my father was the parallel symbolism to the bull in representing my more urgent need to wake. The bull’s horn, being pointed and similar to a bird’s beak in hypnopompic physical anticipation (which is experienced as a jab in the lower back), may be a factor.

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I am sitting with a few family members, the two closest being two brothers-in-law, Bob and Verdell, and they are apparently drinking beer. (Verdell is on my right.) I am not sure of whose house we are in (possibly my older sister Carol’s, as it does not seem like Chipmunk Coulee, but it may be a unique composite of both). There are two couches along each wall, perpendicular to each other, with a small end table towards the corner from one couch. Everyone seems cheerful at first.

There is a sudden feeling of impending danger. A bull crashes through the wall from near the corner of the room, directly from in front of me, knocking plaster and such about.

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This dream was recurring for a short time. In one version, Verdell actually says “look out for the bull” at the moment of waking. This was before I ever saw or heard of the “look out for the bull” Schlitz Malt Liquor commercial on television and also before I grew up and worked for Ford Taurus where I was injured on my right wrist by someone throwing a sharp metal part back down the line from them not being able to keep up (though the commercial is more relevant to dream content regarding prescience).

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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.

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 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 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 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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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.

Morning of October 2, 1965. Saturday.



My dream contains scenes of a red anglerfish of which I mostly perceive as just below the surface of the water each time. I am walking in Pettibone Park with Marilyn (an older half-sister on my mother’s side) and her husband Bob, mostly going southeast, from the Barron Island area. They do not seem to notice the fish or show any concern. I do not feel threatened at any point, only somewhat wary of being near the particular area of water it is in at different times.

I am aware that this ugly fish is possibly a threat to nature in that it is apparently eating all the fish in a smaller pond. There is one point where it appears to be the only fish left. There is also an idea that it may be drinking all the water that it is in, although I also consider that the water is lowering naturally (though in real life, it is mostly only one main body of water in the area, though the water did rise and lower based on another area being used for barge traffic). There are scenes where the fish seems to teleport to different bodies of water ahead of us as we walk through the park, including a rut that I reason was made by a tractor, the rut having been filled with rain a day or two earlier. I also get the impression at one point that it can breathe out of water, at least for a short time.

There is a thought that it has certain human characteristics and perhaps can speak, though it never speaks in my dream. Still, I consider that it may be able to communicate by thought with its “antenna” (esca). There is an expectant awareness when there seems to be a “channel open” in a similar way as a radio being on a station without an audible broadcast (a sparsely recurring dream state awareness caused by being subliminally aware of being in the dream state). This scene occurs while we all stand on a small bridge, which is an altered version of the South Pettibone Drive bridge in that it curves upward towards the middle (the alteration being a result of biological vestibular system dynamics).

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Key factors:

• Water lowering waking symbolism, common autosymbolism for the cessation of the dream state, unrelated to waking life. Water otherwise symbolizes the absence of emotion and the essence of sleep and unconsciousness.
• Bridge, autosymbolism for the imminent return to consciousness, unrelated to waking life.
• Anglerfish as emergent consciousness autosymbolism whereas fish and other water denizens as emergent consciousness autosymbolism is otherwise very common.
• This dream was primarily influenced by “The Outer Limits” episode “Tourist Attraction”, seen just prior to sleep. However, the fish-like creatures in “The Outer Limits” episode had arms and legs.
• Some deep-sea anglerfish emit light from their esca. While this may simply be autosymbolism for the increase of neural energy in the waking transition, it may also hint at transpersonal communication in liminal space and what later in my life became the Blue Flame Event with Zsuzsanna. This is despite the influence of “Tourist Attraction” with the fish-like creatures emitting ultrasonic pulses.
• The color red typically only becomes a factor of dream-self focus when I have slept too long.
• My original childhood dream journal title was “The Devilfish”, not because I had any concern or belief in any “devil” but because it was red and additionally vaguely associated with Hot Stuff, the Harvey Comics character.
• Obviously, there were no anglerfish in the region in real life.
• To see the location of my dream’s last scene, Google “310 south pettibone drive la crosse wi” in quotes and select “Street View”, though the area has changed somewhat since the 1960s.

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Morning of September 28, 1965. Tuesday.



In my vivid dream (age 4, originally documented in detail on reel-to-reel, but written in adult grammar here), I am with all of my older brothers and sisters on my mother’s side (Marilyn, Carol, Earl, Dennis, and Jim). My parents are not present at any point. We are walking up an isolated trail on Grandad Bluff in La Crosse, though there are ambiguous associations with Chipmunk Coulee.

Without incident, we come to a large circular clearing deep in the forest where an old log cabin features near its center. I am told to see if anyone is home, so I go onto the porch on my own to look around while my relatives stand near the edge of the clearing (about a quarter of a city block away). I notice an old wooden rocking chair on the porch upon which a tasseled woven cushion sits. Suddenly, I am lying on my back, not remembering having fallen over.

An unfamiliar large white cat, almost as big as me, approaches me and is soon walking on my chest, getting closer and closer to my face. He does not make a sound at any point. Curiously, he has a very long white human-like beard, which almost hangs to the floor. I feel a bit uneasy but I do not call out right away.

Meanwhile, my siblings do not seem to think that I am in danger. They seem to be happy and are smiling and laughing. I remain wary of the cat’s human-like eyes and seemingly superior intelligence as well as its amazing apparent old age, though I am also somewhat annoyed by my physical discomfort and uncertainty of what is going on, so I attempt to call for someone to come and take the cat off me, but they seem to be walking back into the forest, though I get the impression they do not think I am in danger. I cannot call out very loudly anyway.

I am uncertain of what to do or how to respond. I do not want to annoy this “old man” by being mean to him, though he is probably too heavy to push away anyway. I am unsure of the cat’s intentions as they may be meant to be very friendly or even helpful somehow. I get the impression that a lonely old man who had lived in the cabin somehow became one with his pet cat; that the cat and the old man are now the same entity.

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Some basic dream components are rendered here. I had originally been walking, but near the end of my dream, I am lying on my back in the sleeping position my body is in in reality. A porch is autosymbolism for a specific level of unconsciousness of which is closer to the conscious self identity and the waking factor than other typical dream settings, but also hints at an attempt to go back into sleep and lucid dreaming. (This is based on personal experience even in childhood in deliberately using a porch or carport in some dreams to exit a building and enter a more vivid dream state “outside”, which has worked many times as such.)

Some people might assume that this dream was at least partly a result of being exposed to the bizarre ignorant belief of a cat stealing a child’s breath, but there is no way to verify if this was the influence. In reality, I did have a cat walk on my chest a number of times when I was both resting and sleeping. This may be why the transition of the preconscious into the emergent consciousness factor did not seem directly threatening, as well as holding the essence of a friendly old man.

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Ultimately, this remains a personal favorite and was one of many reasons my interest in dreams, including lucid states as here, remained throughout my life.

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Morning of September 13, 1975. Saturday.



Somehow, my best friend Toby T—-r and I end up in a very isolated area of Australia (I do not recall any backstory other than the perception of having walked over an embankment), seemingly far inland, with no towns close by in any direction.

It is apparently an isolated place called the “Boneyard” and is seemingly a special archaeological site relating to Australian Aboriginal rituals as well as lost treasures and gemstones, mostly opals. There are rocky hills in all directions when we explore one area. At one point, it seems like a school field trip even though I feel as if I am an adult. We find ancient artifacts which are supposedly very valuable in addition to various smaller human bones. We do a lot of work and at one point, are trying to interpret carvings on old stones. We put everything in the same large grayish green bag. I am not sure of the material. I do not think it is burlap.

After a time, a dangerous snake shows up (I am unsure of the species, but it is perceived by my dream self as venomous, and is possibly a krait). One of us, I am not sure if it was Toby or me, as there seems to be a jump ahead in time at one point, apparently had trapped the snake in the bag earlier without considering it was what we were using to put the artifacts in.

We later gather several more valuable items to put in the bag. There seems to be some sort of argument (non-violent) about possible translations on some Aboriginal dreaming stones or whether certain ones were made by Aborigines or pirates.

Near the end of my dream, there seems to be some sort of ironic special ending about getting to the valuable artifacts. Because the snake is in the bag, we would not be safe if we put our hands in it. This seems to be some sort of O-Henry-like dream climax, but in reality, there would be a few options to getting the artifacts, yet in my dream they somehow ultimately seem inaccessible.

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Familiar dream state components and meaning:

Prescient threads: It is pertinent here to go into the precognitive dynamics of this dream before the usual core symbolism. Although my “mystery girl” (dream girl) is not present in this dream, it does take place in Australia. Not only that, Zsuzsanna, when I learned many years later that she was a real person, had not only been to an area to find opals when she was young, she also has an Aboriginal Churinga dreaming stone of the same appearance as one which featured in this dream. This is especially curious as I had no viable knowledge of such things when this dream occurred (and did not really know much about it until after coming to Australia). Additionally, this dream took place on her birthday, though “mystery girl” dreams certainly were not restricted to literal markers.

RAS symbolism: This dream amused me with the nature of its intriguing ending. There was no real threat, as I had started to enter semi-lucidity in the final stages. A snake is often the core RAS dynamic (likely the oldest waking trigger in all primates, including man). Toby is present for preconscious mediation with only mild conflict relating to reading (translation) skills, which symbolize the emergent consciousness factor (as critical thinking skills normally do not function in dreams). The bag with the snake inside is likely associated with waking space and RAS - analogous to a pillow case, as it was about the same size as one. As such, the bag could be typified as a second-level dream state indicator, that is, residual subliminal memory of having fallen asleep (as it is biologically impossible for the mind to not be aware it is sleeping and dreaming, which is why much dream content is based on the dream state itself in the inherent nature of waking from sleep).

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Morning of September 9, 1965. Thursday.

Unnumbered. 34 sec read.

I wander on my own in a city in daylight after walking with my mother. I remain unconcerned about being on my own.

I join a crowd of unknown adults who have gathered in front of what may be the Madison Capitol Building. They seem to be studying “The Thinker,” a statue by Auguste Rodin. (To me, it is reminiscent of a man sitting on a toilet.)

At times, the statue briefly but minimally moves. More people arrive to see if it will move again. I believe it may stand and walk, though not until people are no longer watching. I think that is how I would react under these circumstances.

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Statues as self-evident in-dream sleep paralysis indicators have occurred in dreaming experiences all my life, and a moving sculpture is a self-evident correlation with waking and anticipation of mobility upon waking.

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Morning of August 10, 1975. Sunday.



Someone is stealing our chickens from our large shed in Cubitis, either late at night or very early in the morning (before dawn) and my father and I go out one night to see if we can catch them. Our orange Turkens (a breed of chicken also known as the Transylvanian Naked Neck) are gone without any visible clues anywhere. Although it is first considered that the thieves are ordinary humans, there is pondering of both alien and supernatural possibilities.

Time passes, and the entire shed and external cages area, ground and all, including us as we are standing, seems to be lifted into the dawn sky by an unknown force as we are facing north. There is a sense of beauty, awe, and wonder but no fear. The sense of movement and changing distance from the rest of the ground near our house is very vivid. We are still not sure if this force is alien or supernatural.

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Morning of August 1, 1965. Sunday.



This was a sparsely recurring early childhood dream. Like a lot of my early childhood dreams, I was not aware of my parents being in the immediate area (and I do not feel close to any implied family home) even though it seems very late at night. I do not really feel in danger or lost even though I am not sure of the area - probably La Crosse (possibly somewhere near Rose Street) or perhaps a part of Minnesota. I also feel quite a bit older in my dream for some reason, so perhaps I do not feel threatened as such.

The main idea is related to going near a closed used car lot (again, always very late at night). There is some confusion related to the strung pennants across two sides of the corner business. At one point, I am fairly certain that kites had been caught up in the area and entangled in the string with the pennants, especially the kite tails. In another version of this dream, there is a concern related to mostly small birds (swallows or sparrows?) somehow becoming entangled and an uncertainty of whether I am looking at hanging (dead) birds or the small pennants at any given time, which seem to be of an almost identical shape from some angles. The flapping sound (of the many pennants) at times makes me think that perhaps a live bird (or several live birds) is being trapped somewhere though I cannot see any live ones. No other person is ever around. The sound is not that frequent or discernible.

Morning of July 12, 1975. Saturday.



This dream is somewhat of a continuation of events I have been involved in in real life, in having a long line of clean jars (which originally contained peanut butter or mustard) sitting across the top of my desk in my Cubitis bedroom. Each jar has a certain amount of water to make a particular pitch and I find it pleasing to play music in this manner. I use a spoon to lightly tap each one to make a particular note and play simple melodies.

In my dream, I become famous for playing glass jars, but seem like someone else at one point. A parade is held in my honor relating to the supposed “revival” of this sort of music. In the most vivid part of my dream, as my perspective is changing, I hear a girl’s chorus sing loudly and clearly (and very cheerfully, almost as if for the final part of a movie), something much like the following:

He likes all kinds of girls

Tall kinds of girls

Short kinds of girls

Dark kinds of girls

Light kinds of girls

Thin kinds of girls

Any girls at all…

The fictional song keeps repeating with various similar lyrics in this same form. The tune is very simple:



As this song is being sung, I see a giant (unknown) hand (as big as a house) in overhead view (while seemingly in my “orb” form) start to “play” a group of roofs on several grass huts (or wooden bark huts) apparently with an equally giant spoon or other utensil - in a row in a small village somewhere on an island in the same manner that glass jars are played and I can even hear the wind-chime like tones. It is a very unusual, yet somehow nostalgic scene. There is also a vague perception that the roofs may be crushed or at least possibly damaged but this only happens during my waking stage (where the grass hut seems to “crack” but not in a seemingly threatening way).