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Morning of October 24, 1981. Saturday.



I am in a music store that is similar to one in real life (in La Crosse). At one point earlier on it seems I am having two dreams at the same time (not all that uncommon for me when considering the different types of parallel dreaming and ambiguous “junk” composites). My alternate dream solely involves Toby T urinating outside against the outer wall of an old brick apartment building (of about four storeys) seemingly in the early afternoon in an area where people see him from the windows of the second storey. No drama unfolds, though this causes me to see him as eerily disrespectful and possibly even perverse for some reason.

Meanwhile, my main dream involves trying out new electronic keyboards in the store, including electric pianos. I do most testing while standing and trying the ones near the counter. The ones I try are not really suitable. Mostly, I continue to test with Beethoven’s “Für Elise”, but in every case, there are not enough keys to play the full range of the song (though I seemingly try to adapt in some cases). Some of the keyboards are not even made correctly. For example, the black keys go all the way across (or with too many in a row) instead of having the C# and D# two-black-keys sections as apart from the F# to A# three-black-keys set, thus making it impossible to tell what notes you are playing - note the wrong keyboard design with this entry that apparently actually exists (I did not change the image). With a couple of the keyboards, the keys are just too small, rendering it unplayable (as with some portable ones in real life - unless played by a child). One keyboard does not actually seem electric, just like an odd miniature piano with only about a two octave range. A couple products seem fake, or at least not feasible as a usable instrument.

I say to no one in particular (though likely more directed at the cashier or perhaps the manager if he is nearby at the time), “How do you expect me to play Beethoven on a piano like this?”

At one point, I pick up an accordion and my dream starts to become more and more vivid. When I attempt to play some keys on the accordion, it actually starts “singing” in layered human voices, somewhat like a barbershop quartet. All it sings is the musical phrase “strawberry fields forever” and I am filled with awe and enhanced perception. However, even though I am becoming lucid at this point, I soon wake.

This dream was precognitive (though solely from my personal perspective) as it was some time before I ever actually saw or learned more about digital sampling keyboards.

Morning of October 17, 1981. Saturday.



In this dream, I am walking with my old science teacher from high school when I lived in Arcadia (though we seem to be in Wisconsin in my dream). There is a mix of other males including a couple classmates from WWTC (WWTI at the time), and some coworkers from Eco (Ecology) 3 in La Crosse. We are walking through a large wheat field which seems to go on forever at first. The science teacher (who is male, but not very intelligent for his station) is talking on and on about something, but it is not clear what he is saying. I believe it may relate to whatever job is being set before us all to do.

Over time, we seem to be at work somehow getting wool from the wheat field (rather than from sheep - yet it is somehow still sheep’s wool), as some sort of industrial product for other companies. Eventually however, I am the only one left in the field, as everyone else is gone.

Over time, I find my way into a machine shop similar to the one I worked at in real life (Eco 3), but it seems to be abandoned. There are piles of wool sitting randomly askew over various punch-presses and drill-presses, much of it hanging off the edges. There is a strange mournful feeling as if everyone else had died or perhaps abandoned their life’s purpose. Later on, the pure white wool seems to have naturally changed into dirty or tainted “steel wool” from just sitting around for a long time - but is like wet, rusty iron (in a sponge-like form) that crumbles fairly easily, as if the workers did not perform their duties in time, I think, or again, perhaps all died before finishing their work and so the factory was then perhaps closed or abandoned from there. It seems an enigma, though.

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This dream dramatizes oversleeping. The dream state is represented by “wool” (and the field is recognized autosymbolism for liminal space, a specific level of awareness in REM sleep) and then the iron manifests as potential thinking skills and logic that is only viable in consciousness. It becomes rusty from both physical inactivity in sleeping an hour or so longer and the slower Saturday morning waking transition. The association with “steel wool” and its appearance may or may not be incidental, though again, the metal is mostly perceived as rusty iron, with steel typically associated in waking life with “stainless”.

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Morning of December 22, 1980. Monday.



It seems that I am watching an episode of “Sesame Street” being filmed (or some sort of television special related to the usage of muppet characters). I can see a large television camera aimed at an area that appears to be a wall of about four feet high or more. The muppets are randomly moving about (waist up only as in the real television show) in a mostly featureless setting, but there appears to be a party atmosphere of some sort.

One of the unknown typical “hairy” muppets goes out of camera range and the person controlling him comes out from the left side of the wall, goes in back of the camera and comes around to go back on scene from the other side to within camera range. Eventually, several others do this. This is realized in-dream as a “fake pass” (almost with the sense I am “learning” something) and supposedly makes it look as if a lot more muppets are moving about, especially as some are changed in a minor way before moving back in front of the camera. Not much else happens.

Morning of December 18, 1980. Thursday.



Summary: A town called “Circus World” does not seem to exist regardless of billboard indicators.

I am riding in a car in the back seat - with my older sister Carol also in the car in the front seat, and her husband Mel is driving (it seeming to be the car they own at the time in reality). It seems to be nearing six o‘clock in the evening. We are looking for an actual town near La Crosse or West Salem apparently called “Circus World”, though that is actually an attraction in Baraboo, Wisconsin in reality. Mel is regarding the billboards to determine where to go, but we never reach the town. It almost seems as if the fictional town of Circus World had moved years before. We go past some of the same sketchy billboards a few times over - most displaying an elephant head (back and forth in both directions, north and south, on a few occasions, Mel trying to determine if there is a main road that goes to the east or west). It may also turn out to be, I reason, a small town at the end of a back road, but we do not stop anywhere or get out of the car at any point. Perhaps it is not the right “season” for the town to be visible and is somehow invisible otherwise (or more reasonably, named differently during off-season).

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In real life, a few years prior to this dream, I had given Mel my paperback copy (which I read) of Alistair MacLean’s “Circus” as a Christmas present when I was a teenager (which was a spy fiction story or thriller). Though I saw it on the bookshelf in their home some time later, I was never sure if he would have read something like that and I never asked. That was possibly at least partly the “trigger” for this dream scenario. I also thought that perhaps he did not know what the plot involved due to the “unlikely” cover and title.

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Conclusion: A self-interpreting giveaway occurs; an inadvertent revelation that reveals that what is first read as “All star (Circus)” is actually “Alistair” upon closer examination. This is during hypnopompic dissolution.

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Night of September 13, 1969. Saturday.



This is one of those “just walking around and looking at stuff” dreams, though not of the admiring perspective as in later lucid dreams. It is also one of my typical childhood dreams where the environment seems only about three-quarters rendered and a light fog eventually flows in from more distant features, yet only about three or four inches high from any implied ground or floor (and as mentioned in other entries, I have never been certain if this was influenced by a staged “dream scene” on a television show, or a natural association representing the dreaming process itself, especially as my dream work began so early in life, I did not note much of what may have influenced particular dreams and only through a lot of extensive research have I been able to validate some very early influences over the last ten years).

I am north of my home in Cubitis seemingly before sunrise, on the east side of the Highway, probably in the same general area on the other side of the highway from the W family house. However, there is a large fictional building which seems to be some sort of store (though designed more like a warehouse). Inside, though no one else is around (I am not certain if it is abandoned or just closed), are wooden shelves, farther north being bags of fertilizer on higher shelves from one to three high, and closer to where I mostly remain being small garden forks, diggers, and trowels, some randomly strewn about on a particular shelf. It occurs to me that some of these garden tools are brand new and others damaged (perhaps returned to the store after long usage). I try to focus on this being fact or not but am not that aware. There is also an extremely vague association with eating utensils (forks and spoons) and their similarity to the garden tools.

I trip over a shovel (left leg - probably in an attempt to walk southerly back to my house) leaned up against a wall near a doorway and somehow fall through the doorway into a black void (though do get the impression of an empty room with a dirt floor), similar to a hypnagogic jerk (or hypnic jerk) but fully within the dream state - or rather, the very end of the dream state. Interestingly, I can always trace these supposed hypnic jerks to an actual dream (often a vivid or even lucid dream) yet much of the information on the Internet claims that they occur as a person is falling asleep, which does not at all match my own lifelong experiences (then again, hardly anything I ever read ever does, so that is nothing new).

Morning of September 13, 1979. Thursday.



This dream is from 1979; September 13th, wife’s birthday; and of which there are earlier and later versions. My first journal title for this was “I Don’t Wanna Be a Tree!”

Evidence studied and validated as of Sunday, 26 July 2015 shows that the original (prototype version) also fell on the morning of September 13th (1970, coming before my “Tornado” dream) and was apparently influenced by a repeated episode of “My Three Sons” titled “It’s a Woman’s World” during the last part of my last awake period. The following synopsis was given in the newspaper: “Steve find’s himself cast as a tree in Dodie’s school play, more or less proving Robbie’s point that females are instinctive manipulators”. This is somewhat amusing in that I presently have three sons.

My dream primarily involves my best friend Toby T and I mostly mowing or raking leaves in what seems to be a deserted and seemingly isolated area on the top of a hill. At times, though, my “mystery girl” appears in shadow and silhouette in the background. Toby and I seem to be working in the middle of the night at times. It vaguely seems like a version of my sister’s house on Loomis Street where I was staying when my wife and I first made contact, though smaller (although it also seems partly modeled after the Chipmunk Coulee house).

As time passes, Toby makes suggestions that the property is owned by a witch but that she has somehow transformed into a tree (supposedly accidentally).

Eventually, I seem to have strong feelings for the “mystery girl” and am eventually turned into a tree myself, seemingly being at the same location of the original and only tree in the area. Toby does not seem to notice even though I yell for a short time to get his attention. I hope that I will not be “trimmed” or “chopped down” in my future. I seem to be the only tree around for some distance, although there are smaller shrubs and such in the area. It is late fall and there are a lot of leaves everywhere on the ground but I see no leaves on “my” own branches.

Toby sits down and starts reading from a book, “I think that I shall never see a poem as lovely as a tree”. I become annoyed and try to move, but he takes it as some sort of “haunting” signs and goes elsewhere (but is still working in the general area. Meanwhile, the mystery girl is human and it seems that I have taken her place as a tree (to “free her”) and I wonder what will happen to Toby. She seems to be dressed in a sort of “cavegirl” outfit, or perhaps a bikini made of pieces of bark.

I have changed the status to “precognitive” as it features the “mystery girl” (my yet-to-be wife, with the same appearance as to real life though I had not yet seen her in reality) and it had some valid associations (not all of which are here online) including the area she lived in Nimbin when younger in reality that I could not have known about in any way.

Morning of May 19, 1969. Monday.



My best friend Toby T and I rescue Brenda W (a female friend and classmate) from a burning building in Arcadia. (There does not seem to be any back story - my dream seems to start as we are already grabbing Brenda and fleeing the scene without the otherwise extensive fire being very close to us.)

As we are running, the scene becomes very vivid (about as vivid as a dream can get - but it is then as if I am seeing myself from in front of the scene, I on her right, Toby on her left - we both have a strange look of surprise on our faces when kissed, though my expression seems happier than Toby’s, his being more of a confused nature). She kisses us both on the cheek as we are running and holding her arms, saying “You boys are wonderful!” (the sound being very clear and vivid here) I clearly see both her left and right profiles during this time as my dream becomes lucid but only upon awakening. (Fire has a tendency to increase both vividness and sometimes lucidity - its glow actually “lighting up” the dream in most cases.)

Although it seems to be a wooden house and slightly like Brenda’s, it also seems we are in the southwest area of the West Elementary school grounds, the house being farther northwest as we flee towards the southeast where the playground is in reality. (The actual area is not that open or expansive.) This is the original dream journal title from age eight (which was never changed when copying to newer journal pages).

In real life, Brenda lived north of me on Highway Seventeen in Cubitis; not in Arcadia as here in-dream. This time period had me more closely thinking of the different types of dream perspectives, such as the unusual differences between dream sections where you are fully in-body (such as how this started out) to either where you see yourself (as if disembodied) or not directly “in” the dream at all. This dream was possibly influenced by the fact that there was a very large house fire just north of my home, though not near Brenda’s house. Brenda was later validated as a common stand-in archetype for the (precise precognitive) “mystery girl” (wife-to-be), also included in “mystery girl” three-way composites. Here, however, there is nothing significant to indicate or validate her status as such. This dream also occurred before she ever kissed me in real life (she never kissed Toby as far as I know), though I certainly would not call that precognitive.

Morning of February 15, 1969. Saturday.

Dream #: 789-06. Reading time: 1 min 22 sec. Readability score: 54.



In semi-lucidity at age eight, I find myself sitting on an upright wooden rain barrel next to an old wooden fence in late morning. Beyond the other side is a unique new version of a relative’s farm that exists in real life, but where I have not visited since age four.

Brenda (schoolmate, neighbor, and friend) is also sitting atop the barrel. We are facing each other, cheerfully giggling. I feel the inspiration to kiss her. Our faces move closer, but I am distracted by my awareness of someone beyond the other side of the fence.

Earl (an older half-brother on my mother’s side) walks over to the fence, approaching from my right. I feel very annoyed by his sudden interest in what Brenda and I are doing. I feel imposed upon and so kissing Brenda does not occur. I partially awake in readiness, though still in liminal space, to throw my pillow at the imagined intrusion.

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It is likely that I was liminally discerning whether Earl was on our carport, to the right of my bed. Additionally, as I sleep on my left side, it is also natural for the waking process to originate from my right as it exposed openly to my environment. The error here is that the setting was the farm in Wisconsin (though Brenda had never been to Wisconsin) and even so, I had to have been liminally aware of where I was. At the time, my bed blocked the door to the carport, and I am sometimes aware of the location of doorways (in my real environment) even in subliminal (non-lucid) dream settings.

Waking process autosymbolism was inclusive as the fence feature, a liminal space divider that represents RAS mediation as the separation between the imaginary dream self and conscious self perception. The rain barrel was a residual factor of water induction, water (melatonin mediation) being my most common autosymbolism for dream state induction, occurring at least once per sleep cycle. The personified preconscious, in this case, Earl, is typically intrusive as the waking alert factor.

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Morning of February 5, 1969. Wednesday.



There have been numerous dreams throughout my life which featured ambiguous modes of transportation; for example, of being on a flying school bus which is also somehow an airplane in my dream (yet has the appearance of the inside of a school bus, with the same orientation of the driver and such). There is sometimes a lack of clarity (based on scenes outside the windows, typically) on whether I am on a bus, train, airplane, or even a boat, which of course, sometimes changes (the “morphing” so common in dreams being only one of many reasons why “dream dictionaries” mean nothing to real dream-workers). Also, windows become paintings or vice versa.

In this case, I seem to be “rising” in being on an aircraft, but no, I realize it is likely a bus, which then resolves as a boat, as we seem to be on water (with no awareness of a road). However, just because there is no hint of a road and we are on water does not mean it cannot be a bus (faux dream “logic”). For example, it may be an extremely narrow road over water.

At any rate, I am somehow with a larger rock (which I first take to be a turtle but then it is a rock but which then starts to “wiggle” again), which has somehow come to me through a solid glass (closed) window. There is something in the back of my mind about “The Ugly Duckling” but it is not that clear. Also, there is some sort of fairy tale, I reason, where a swan is actually a girl. Being a black swan, it represents my future wife, as I was familiar with the stamp. There is a “strange tickle” of a type that occurred in other dreams, in my lower stomach area and as the swan wiggles a bit, which may prove to be problematic.

Curiously, the scene with rocks in the water from the “window” then turns out to be a painting (typical of mixed two-dimensional and three-dimensional in-dream elements which other people have told me is fairly common in their own dreams) and I am sitting in a museum after all. However, the “painting” is then that of “The Birth of Venus” (Sandro Botticelli) though she has dark hair and the “angels” are replaced by a white swan and a black swan.

“She’s HERE!” yells a thin old man, seeming terrified and running from the area, going around a corner. The painting starts to glow blue (mostly around the head and shoulders of the dark-haired “mystery girl”) and I fall back empty-handed with a strange “comfortable” oscillation in my ears (always the exact same pitch throughout my life for the most part), falling into nothing, “falling” into my bed awake.

Curiously, shortly before my wife first wrote me in 1991, a new black swan stamp (43 cents) was apparently issued on Valentine’s Day…

Morning of January 2, 1969. Thursday.



This is a very vivid dream, though at one point it seems I am watching myself from a few paces south around the middle of the Cubitis hallway while disembodied; the other me looking in awe at the coat that is suspended in air (in the same area and position as if it were otherwise hung by a hanger).

I am looking at a coat in the hall closet of my Cubitis home. It is my winter coat, but it is eerily floating in the air with no hanger (though it does not seem to be worn or held up by an invisible entity at any point - the “magic” is in the coat itself). There are only a few other clothes on each side of it (but pushed to the side against the closet walls). My father is making references to this in a sort of narrative manner (seemingly only vaguely wary of the coat’s dimly glowing essence of a very pale green) as if it is important for me to learn about (he did used to tell me ghost stories in real life but I am not sure if this coat is purely “haunted” or is to be useful with its special powers). It seems to be in the middle of the night or very early morning an hour or two before sunrise. My father and I are the only two characters in this dream. I do not sense or perceive any other being.

The above childhood dream, upon present reflection for some reason, now brings back a very vivid memory of going to get my coat in the school closet in real life (kindergarten) on the last day of school, and there was one other winter coat that a chubby male student (Robert, I think) had left behind, so I informed the female teacher (“Yandell” or something like that - but I mentally changed her name to “Yardstick” in my dreams). I remember the eerie sense of “finality” and the false sense as if the coat was “hovering” there “without the boy in it”. Both the childhood real-life event and this later very vivid dream of my later childhood seemed to hold a similar mood, and the real-life memory may have been the “trigger” (though there are likely other factors). For some reason, my memories of each last day of school (regardless of the grade) seem to be much more vivid and clearer than the memories of other days, even if nothing significant happened.

See also: “Empty Boots”

Morning of October 14, 1968. Monday.



A young boy (who is primarily seen in-dream as Clint Howard as he appears on the television series “Gentle Ben”) is hiding from his family and from teachers, and people are continuously looking for him, but no one ever finds him. He has not done anything wrong; he just wants to live his own way and apparently does not like going to public school. He had been living in a special underwater bunker that one can only get to by being ‘swallowed’ by a mechanical hippopotamus head in a lake. I study the blueprints for his setup at one point as it seems that he somehow built it on his own. I clearly see the head from the side and how a person goes downward through a somewhat diagonal tunnel (past a chimney-like vertical area) into the larger bunker.

This is the original childhood dream journal title. I had also drawn images on notebook paper that came in various colors, mostly noticing the greater distance between the mechanical hippopotamus mouth entrance and how the various parts worked, including something related to rocks rolling into position - the hippopotamus head and front part of the body also working somewhat like a public mailbox concept. What is quite interesting is that part of my dream caused me to think of a game very much like “Hungry Hungry Hippos” which supposedly did not exist physically until 1978, about ten years after this dream (although the hippopotamus head and front part of the body are fairly “realistic” in contrast to the game). However, an online source states that the idea for the game was published in 1967, though I do not know if I had access to that information at the time.

What I can add here is that the boy at times also seemed to be a composite character, a combination of myself (yet not really “me” as I mostly saw the scenario as if disembodied) and about seventy-five percent Clint Howard as he appeared at the time. A “Gentle Ben” episode that had aired on television the night before was called “The Wall That Mark and Tom Built”, with the description “Mark has a falling out with his father; Mark takes a job as the guide for a fisherman”. The episode of “Lassie” on that same night was part one of “The Holocaust”, which was summarized as “A fire rages on a Western mountain range and, despite the efforts of helicopter crews, firefighters, and Lassie, Ranger Corey Stuart is trapped in the inferno. When a rescue team finally reaches Corey, he is seriously injured.” Looking at my dream, there were related concepts - the boy lived much on fish as well as there being the idea of being safe from grass fires and arsonists.

Regarding real-life associations, I never had a “falling out” with my father, but it is possible that I felt uncomfortable with certain events at school. In real life, an older classmate asked me if I was related to Clint Howard. This was rather ridiculous in my opinion as we were not even of the same racial background. The only similarity - and it seems to relate to the eyes - is possibly the somewhat Mongolian-like appearance (attributed to Native American features, though many people in the south often called me derisive Asian-based names as a boy) but I really do not think Clint Howard has any significant features that resemble mine.

Morning of September 28, 1968. Saturday.



I am sent to a warehouse-like area during school hours (even though I sense it is a Saturday - as it indeed is in real life) west of the school (West Elementary) and across the street to get a couple of textbooks, I think for other students (and perhaps one for myself). It is fairly dark inside.

A large “dogerpillar” crawls slowly near me from another part of the warehouse as a mist seems to rise up from the floor. There are shades of cyan, purple, white, and orange, and, terrified it will reach me, I stand up on a large crate just barely out of its reach as It is unable to lift itself, and can only crawl horizontally, which is an in-dream “relief” to me. It is at least a foot high or more and about five feet long. It starts making a strange, short mournful whining sound and I start to try to imitate the sound so that the creature will think I am one of its young (or one of its kind at least) and move on elsewhere. I continue to stand on the box making the sound in a somewhat worried state. Originally I had written “After awhile, I think that the creature may end up thinking that I am its offspring and may want something from me or to properly feed me! It seems there may not be a real way out.”

I am less afraid near the end (but still have an odd in-dream “faux end of the world” nervousness), but am concerned about missing reading class, and am wondering why they did not keep such a weird creature locked up. There is sort of a concern that I may never get out, but I slowly wake. (Oddly, there is no stronger thought of attempting to run away, even though the creature is very slow in its movements.)

Upon waking, I had found out (from my mother) that I was making a similar sound (vaguely like “vumpadump”) for several minutes before waking from the very vivid dream. (I have heard from some people that a person is unable to make sounds or speak in syllables when dreaming, but like almost everything else I have heard about dreams - it personally turned out to be wrong.) It is possible that the creature was partly based on the one from “The Monster That Challenged the World”, which I saw on Rose Street when about age five.

The very first dream journal title of this was “The Thing in the Room”. Someone who saw it (David K) said the title should be changed to “The Thing in the Attic”, which was pointless, as it was not an attic, so I later changed it to “The Thing in the Warehouse”. Because of what it looked like (a giant caterpillar with a weird dog-like head), the final title was “The Dogerpillar”.

This was not the first version of this dream. See this link: http://blue-opossum.tumblr.com/post/...ditional-notes

Night of December 29, 1967. Friday.

Dream #: 375-12. Reading time: 48 sec.



There is a big, mostly featureless gray asteroid close to Earth, though it does not seem to pose a threat. It is eventually seen to be the giant bone of an extinct creature, one of the only bones left after a battle with another huge monster in outer space “millions of years ago.”

A satellite (though more like an unusual spacecraft deemed as a satellite in-dream) from Earth, which at first looks somewhat like a helicopter, later like a set of metal “bones” with one metal “bone” whirling around the top like a helicopter rotor, is sent to investigate. I am aware that the satellite, which I am unsure has astronauts aboard or not, is caught in the orbit of the asteroid. I am later sure that astronauts will be looking into this situation and I am preparing to hear about it on the news on the radio.

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This experience is my second vivid dream (the other of being rescued by an owl from a snake late at night near a cornfield) that had flawless visual influence from the Time-Life “Birds” book that I got for Christmas (from my mother) at age seven when living at North Monroe Street in Arcadia.

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Night of December 10, 1967. Sunday.



This is another early childhood dream that I had recorded years ago that came again to me around the same time last night as the Christmas-themed “Cold Hands, Warm Heart”. Again, I am not sure why, perhaps because of my desire to work with any and all previously documented dreams and resolve any mysteries.

In this fairly vivid dream (not lucid), even though I am a child, I seem to have some sort of adult role with regard to being a manager or making decisions relative to a brewery I inherited. Neither of my parents drank beer but we did live near G. Heileman Brewing Company at one point (which apparently stopped operating in 1996, about two years after I moved to Australia). The location, though, seems to be near the Chipmunk Coulee region and near a mostly wooded, elevated area. It is a fictional, or at least unfamiliar, area. Added note: I consider this dream long-term precognitive at a subtle layer, as I did work there in real life years later, though only as a cleaner.

For the most part, I remain outside across a bridge (made of logs laid horizontally) from the actual brewery. There is a moat-like area around the building, but not filled with water; just mostly ice and snow and parts of bushes, sticks, and logs. There are not many people around outside - I guess they are mostly working.

In the last part of my dream, there is supposedly a bear running around inside the brewery and causing problems, perhaps even eating people. I am not sure how to deal with that - though I guess it is my job to get rid of the bear somehow. I go closer near the beginning of the bridge that leads across the moat-like area but never cross the bridge or go inside the building to see what is going on. It is not really a nightmare, though, as I never see the bear. There are vague “The Prisoner” references (which I must have seen just prior to this dream, as there are also hammer and anvil references regarding how the beer is supposedly made, but not realistically feasible - according to IMDb, it was broadcast on December 10th, 1967).

There is a vague idea that the bear may be a pet that escaped from its owner, but that is not all that clear an idea. Not much drama ensues. I mostly just want to leave the region and find myself wandering around in the woods hoping the bear does not leave the building. There is a bit of relief in the thought that it would have to know how to open doors - but even so - how had it gotten in in the first place? Thus, I actually feel safer outside in the wild, as the bear is in the building (the opposite of other dreams with similar themes, especially with cougars and bulls).

Night of November 24, 1977. Thursday.



My dream features a raccoon and a Siamese cat that live in a large city and work together as detectives (apparently in the world of humans). This recurred a few times, but all instances before the television series “Simon and Simon” was filmed or aired. The name of the fictional series in my dream was firstly “Sammy and Sammy”. There was this odd idea that the raccoon and the cat were somehow brothers. There are scenes of the Siamese cat and raccoon sitting together on the front steps of a courthouse. However, in another scene, this “courthouse” looks like the front of the apartment building on the “Sesame Street” television series and may in fact be a spin-off from that children’s show. I view the scene as some sort of projection from a book (somewhat different implications than my dream details below about the “living book”) which is about half of life-size and appears along the north east area of my room facing west. I do not directly interact with this imagery. The animals are larger in scale than the setting.



“Sammy and Sammy” was seemingly not “well received” in my dream by the public, so, using a pattern a little closer to the word “Siamese” (I assume) - the title became “Simon and Simon” and seemed more “correct” in an additional (or “reset”) dream regarding the fictional show that became popular.

Obviously, when the actual television series was later known and I saw it for the first time in real life, also on November 24th (1981), I was intrigued. Of course, the detectives on the real show were human.

In a dream of the same time period (also including on the same morning) I had a large book on oceanography, which was like a “living book” that was similar to another one that featured the above fictional series (and I apparently had several more “living books”). Over time, the images in the photographs on the pages would seem to come to life or at least appear as a sort of implied portal into the scene (though obviously not big enough to go into physically). It was very peaceful to look at the various moving images. In one dream, I was able to use the charts and graphs on certain pages in an interactive way (and this was before I ever used a computer in real life). I watch small schools of fish move about deep in the ocean. The imagery in this dream was fairly realistic compared to certain other dreams.