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Night of November 13, 1977. Sunday.



As bizarre as the imagery was in this dream, as is most often the case, it still turned out to be precisely precognitive relative to my own path and perspective. A short time later on, I happened to get hold of one of those cheap pulp horror novels sold in bargain stores which sometimes also have a small cafe on one end of the place. This was a new one I had not seen and I also had not been in the store for some months. Not getting any clues at all from the title or cover, the cheap paperback turned out to have the same imagery from the earlier dream when I decided to actually read it; that is, small albino see-through alligators with razor-sharp teeth. Unfortunately, as hilarious as it is, I cannot presently remember the name of the paperback or find any more information on it (yet) and I had not even recorded the title after the original event (things like this happened so often from one day to the next, I did not always keep up with every detail).

The dream itself was very vivid, almost lucid, but not enough for me to take full control of my senses. It took place at night, seemingly around ten o'clock. The creatures looked like fully transparent miniature alligators and were crawling on the outside walls on the carport (a bit like Florida chameleons, which we often had in our house or even now, where we have quite a few house geckos). Some were also on the red metal trellises of the carport, mostly at about shoulder-level. None of them got inside, which is why I later went inside and felt a bit safer. The creatures seemed to have a thermometer-like biological structure inside their bodies which possibly indicated some sort of particular biological state a particular creature had at the time.

Morning of October 14, 1967. Saturday.



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

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

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

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

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

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

Morning of October 8, 1967. Sunday.



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

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

Night of October 5, 1977. Wednesday.



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t you mean Utopia?” I ask.

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

Morning of September 11, 1977. Sunday.



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

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

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

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

Morning of September 13, 1977. Tuesday.



Somehow, the ghost of a mermaid speaks to me from a burning bush (but is later only glowing in light, with brass-colored rays coming out very brightly, with triangular tips - in the back of my mind is something about the book of Revelations in the Bible). This is near the right, when facing the house, southern side of the carport. Supposedly, this entity is my wife, or has been or will be my wife. A little after this, in real life, I had also made a one-copy home-made comic book for a few issues (no longer in existence, I suppose) of a young mermaid called Mary and her boyfriend John. In my dream, the mermaid was named Cleo (who appeared as a “normal” human for the most part - but had some special abilities at times in a couple other dreams). In this particular dream, it seemed she somehow also “lived” in the bush (a pun on my future wife living “in the bush” in Australia?) as well as being a “ghost girl” (for example, the shrub itself was where her spirit or soul actually “lived” - like a genie in a lamp, actually). Also in this dream, the mermaid seemed almost divine or holy. Other than the name “Cleo”, there is also (implied as angelic) “Gabrielle”, my wife’s middle name. Considering this was on her birthday before I met her (or even knew about her), I count it as precognitive as such.

Morning of November 26, 1976. Friday.



One trivial precognitive dream I had related to an album cover of a band I had not followed or even remembered hearing about prior to my dream (which occurred earlier in the evening on a Saturday night). This dream was in 1976 (a nighttime/early evening dream), and from research (one source reporting February 1978), about two years before the actual cover existed and a friend, Kyle C, took the record to work (well, it was in is car - he had coincidentally bought it earlier that day during lunch break). My dream’s version was visually correct for the most part, with the arrows pointing in two different directions on a yellow sign and the splattering of “ketchup” from a restaurant venue with live bands (in my dream but likely paint in reality). The real-life one turned out to be “Head East” but it was different when foreshadowed and otherwise visually foreseen, as is sometimes the case - as letters often change when I look at them in dreams (unless very lucid).

The writing in my dream did not say “Head East” but “Duck East Wayne” when I tried to focus on the scribbled letters on the album cover - a fictional name if I ever heard one - and I assumed the oppositely pointing arrows were just more dream confusion (although it really is the same as the later album cover in real life other then the scribbled name). I am also at a restaurant late at night and with a lot of lights shining everywhere (this is how the “ketchup gets spilled on the album cover”). I am also aware of an announcement on the radio. A male voice comes on and states very empirically, “Badcock Saturday Night presents…Duck East Wayne…”. This is more dream distortion, as Badcock is the name of a furniture store near where we lived. The band comes on at the venue I am at, singing a (fictional) song, “Too Late to Crumble” apparently about a girl who wants to go back to her boyfriend but he is in a new relationship.

Another dream around the same time period related to a band appearing in the basement of my high school. However, no one could get there in time to see the actual concert. The main song they just started to finish up when people were only then aware of the music is “Talkin’ About a Show”. There is a somewhat uncomfortable series of images of people running up and down stairs while the song is playing, only some finally reaching the basement to see the band live as they are finishing the song. There are later scenes of chaos in public, as well as gunfire and gang wars, and the song “Talkin’ About a Show” is still playing as if the people that are shooting at each other are “talking about a show” - the last line ending “and they’re all…talkin’ about a show” - it seems a bit egotistical for the band to be singing this for so long. This dream came before I saw at least one movie scene where someone holds up a large gun and says “(now) this is what I’m talking about”. Strange, as it seems a rather odd, “displaced” comment (like a lot of new slang terms, really).

Night of September 29, 1976. Wednesday.



In my dream, I am fishing at El Jobean in the afternoon. The weather is very nice at first. There are a lot of other people of various ages, some fishing, but not that close to where I am.

Over time, I notice that I get a bite now and then, but every time I reel in, it looks like a tiny piece of tin foil moving just under the water and is not there later on when all the line and hook comes fully out of the water, as if something is following my bait, which may be a minnow or tiny shiny fish. This annoys me somewhat. It seems to be a strange and growing mystery. Other people are not noticing what is happening and a few people are leaving now and then, as it is getting later in the afternoon. The scene is very vivid, yet I cannot work out the reason for the small tinfoil-like “creature” under the water or what sometimes seems like an actual gum wrapper section somehow moving in consistent patterns (or maybe someone is playing a practical joke).

Oddly, there is a utility pole to my left, with a three-digit number painted at an odd diagonal angle about chest-high and an additional mark of some kind. It seems sort of out-of-place near the beach.

It is getting darker and darker and time seems to be compressed a bit. Everyone has left the beach but me and it has grown slightly cooler.

Once again, the silvery, reflective form is under the water, but as the sun has just gone down, things change a bit. A very large and strange silvery manta ray, which is somehow walking like a person, “slimmer” than a real manta ray, and about as tall as a person (or a bit taller) is coming up from the shoreline with its “wings” out. I see it as potentially dangerous. It is very vivid (not quite lucid - but almost). I manage to back up and grab some sort of gig or harpoon with my left hand and am able to send it into the creature and kill it. I feel “heroic” somehow, as if I am part of a legend of some sort. There is a subtle sense of rain and motion of waves as if the scene is being “painted” by those aspects. It is an eerie scene, yet somehow not nightmarish to me.

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There is mostly only moon symbolism here. This includes the silver manta ray, the fact it came from deep levels of the ocean (unconscious mind), the fact that silvery “moonlight” was glimmering from under the water’s surface prior to its emergence, the fact that I was fishing (seeking connection with my unconscious state to resolve my eventual waking transition), and the fact that a telephone pole appeared in an unlikely place near the beach - as a telephone pole represents communication between different levels of consciousness while in the dream state. The nature of this dream firstly going from afternoon to nighttime is also obvious in this meaning as it is analogous to “the moon coming out”. This is validated by the fact that the manta ray is an intriguing flight symbol which represents a very specific level of consciousness. The rain adds to this effect as rain also represents communication from deeper levels of consciousness and flow of thought while in the dream state. To conclude, this is a circadian rhythms dream with adolescent factors.

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What was interesting about this is that the next afternoon, the utility pole near the highway (but still a part of our front yard area) had the exact same white paint markings as from my dream and at the same height. Unfortunately, I do not have a photo on hand and did not sketch out the somewhat oddly painted number (could not fully tell what it was - only that it looked the same as my dream image and had at least one six - or what looked like one). It had definitely not been there earlier (even my father mentioned it and confirmed it was brand new). This is one of those times where I just reflected on how curious that was (especially since there was no seeming connection with any “silver manta” in any way - and that part of my dream was quite “mundane” compared to the “epic battle”). It mostly seemed to me as if they had worked at “marking” the poles for when they were to put in the small green utility boxes relating to underground cables (which I did not hear about until later). It did look a little like a graffiti tag, but we were “in the middle of nowhere” and it had never happened before.

Morning of September 8, 1976. Wednesday.



I have not been in school yet in real life because of having been operated on regarding the odd multiple cysts on my right hand. This newspaper page with the entry was after my dream on the same day; relative to precognition or the very common somewhat trivial precognitive synchronicity - or whatever it is - but I have lived with it day to day since earliest memory. I also have just made a note after all these years that I had spelt “heels” in the title as “heals” and no one had ever noticed (that I know of) in real life since that time. There are probably thousands of such “revelatory typos” in my original journals. Due to the sheer volume of my work, I doubt I would ever find a fraction of them.

For some reason, I am doing continuous multiple somersaults in my front yard in Cubitis (doing somersaults was recurring during this period and was quite rare otherwise throughout my life - could have had something to do with the extreme pain in my right thumb and wrist and trying to “escape” it in-dream even though it was absent from most dreams). There is an actual roofed bus stop shelter with a bench and glass walls in front of Karen S’s house. To get there, I do somersaults all the way over, at least fifteen or so, even across the highway. (This was an area I needed to wait for the school bus in the morning in real life but not every year - sometimes the stop was at my driveway; another year, the next-door neighbor’s to the south.) Later on, it seems to be “normal” to walk on ones hands which I attempt for a short time. Not many people are around.

Later, I seem to be at a version of sister Claudia’s house where I had not been since I was a younger child in the first part of 1967. There is some sort of flood which oddly seems to be of different storeys. That is, the downstairs is flooded and the top floor is also flooded, but only from the level of the second floor as different from the flood downstairs but about the same depth. (In reality, the water would have just flowed down the steps.)

There is also something about buying chewing tobacco at what otherwise looks like an outdoor magazine (vendor) stand (which I never did in reality) and something about the product (Beechnut, I think) always being featured on the cover of “Outdoor Life” magazine, which is not true at all in reality, of course.

The main part of my dream features tigers coming up from the water, both in Claudia’s house (upstairs as well) and in the front yard of my Cubitis home, which is now flooded to about shoulder-high. I am aware that they are some kind of fictional aquatic tiger (perhaps with webbed paws and barely visible gills) although they look no different from normal tigers for the most part. I see about three or four rise from the water in different areas at any given time. This makes waiting at the bus stop somewhat problematic, although I sense it is the weekend and there would be no school anyway, which seems to justify being not all that concerned about it - though it is not the weekend in reality and I am missing school, which would have been the start of 10th grade on the 7th the day before. There are no dominant emotions relative to fear, though.

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An additional play could relate to feeling “clawed” (both in the scars on my wrists and right thumb and the fact that claws are on the “paws”/hands), which is also a play on my first name. It also may explain the association with Claudia (“Claw”-dia). I can even reach somewhat illogically to associate “tigers” with “ties” (relative to school responsibilities) - which is quite a stretch even for me.

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Night of August 24, 1976. Tuesday. (Though more correctly in regards to dreaming, very early “morning” of the 25th, and being the beginning of Wednesday).



I am somewhat uneasy and restless. In real life, I had been in the hospital for the operation on my right hand to commence the next day - to remove the bizarre and unexplainable same-sized cysts (of which there were four “complete” and more growing) perfectly lined up on the left side of my thumb and partly down my wrist, which appeared to have fetal-like design of all things, like one of those “twins” you hear about in some ways, but not usually later in life (and there was a later rather ridiculous rumor in school that it was from a snake, as in snake “babies” - a story that I was not the originator of in any way). I was fifteen at the time and ready to enter tenth grade within a short time. After midnight, in real life, my mother being allowed to stay at my bedside as I was falling asleep (though she finally went home for rest the night after my operation), the young black nurse came in (someone I knew when much younger), shined a flashlight on my face, and asked if I wanted sleeping pills (though I was actually almost asleep at that point). She then directed the flashlight up at the television (which was quite high up on the wall) where “Night of the Lepus” was showing. “Watchin’ TEE vee,” she says with a hint of disapproval and left the room for the night (her flashlight oddly “enhancing” the scene of a seeming spotlight of the “herd” of giant rabbits).

In the eventual dream, there is a cobra under the operating table which does not really get to me, though I have to remember to keep my arm up and on the table (though there is a concern of what will happen when the large dose of anesthesia takes effect). Nothing eventful happens other than the “return” of a common dream element when I was much younger, this being an unusual “mist” (very cloud-like) that rolls along from about six to twelve inches from any implied floor or ground. There are also various distorted and apparently angry faces of unusual colors (with mostly passive responses on my part, as I seem mostly disembodied) and flashbacks to earlier childhood dreams. There are other cobra dreams related to this, the earliest being “Cobra in the Hayloft” from August 18, 1966, seemingly my first deliberate attempt to create a so-called tulpa (but fully in-dream). On September 9th (when I was supposed to be starting school by then but did not due to overwhelming pain as the feeling was eventually coming back in that area of my hand), I had the “Hello Harry” dream where the mist seemed to be engulfing a very large portion of my subconscious mind. This dream centered around a man who had died, but sang “Happy Birthday” to himself in answer to the one friend near his coffin in a basement and one-man party scenario. (This is not really that significant as my birthday is actually on December 20). Prior to the fall into the mist, I had been bitten on the thumb by a cobra in an extremely vivid dream of being in my backyard. The only good thing about this time was the “mystery girl” comforting me, which somehow reminded me of a scenario from the movie “Cat Ballou” (last seen on September 13, 1974, prior to the last time I saw “Night of the Lepus” shortly after - the other two movies airing being “Dark Passage” on another channel and “The Strange Door” on another).

This real-life event of my first ever longer hospital stay directly and precisely confirmed several precognitive dreams from early childhood, including one recurring one with both the enlarged right thumb and even the detail of a giant rabbit (relative to “Night of the Lepus” on television). This confirms the idea of physical precognition or foreshadowing of one’s own internal nature being somehow available (at least subconsciously) several years prior (though that certainly does not explain how I knew of the movie before it was even made, which happened fairly often when young).

Amusingly, the night before, the movie title shown at the same time at night (11:30) and same network (CBS) was “Doctor, You’ve Got to Be Kidding”. If that were not amusing enough, again, the previous time I had actually watched “Night of the Lepus” was on Friday the 13th in September of 1974. My wife’s birthday was Friday the 13th in September of 1968. This was long before I knew she was a real person (which came in 1991).

Morning of June 27, 1976. Sunday.



Dreams are sometimes known for providing supposedly worthless and ridiculous poetry that often has non-words or very odd variations of known (real-life) poetry. Here is an intriguing example:

Don Grady, the actor (who starred as Robbie Douglas in the television series “My Three Sons”), stars in an epic Western - “The Legend of Tony Karoni”. He was from Virginia (associations with “The Virginian” Western television series, I suppose) and sometimes rode in a group of many other cowboys. After many adventures, gunfights, and stopping rustlers, he ends up in a small jailhouse in an area in Southern California or possibly Mexico, to meet the local sheriff (and possibly to rescue a friend who is being held wrongfully). Two Mexican bandits are standing inside, leaning on the bars of the jail. One of them says, “Well, gang, look who’s back!” (There only seems to be the two men, no actual “gang”.) They then sing in a perfect, layered, somewhat metallic voice:



“It’s TOny KaROni!”

“All the way from NEAto’s cell!” (or “All the way from Needles’ cell!” - Needles is a place in California at any rate).

At this point, I am not certain if “Neato” was a play on the reversal of the “To” and “ny” of “Tony” or if they were actually singing “Needles” in reference to the town, though it does sound like “knee - toes”.

There are some possible plays here, one being from hearing “macaroni” in real life as well as possible associations with the “Frito Bandito” song (1967-1971?).

Morning of February 28, 1976. Saturday.



Throughout my dream, I become more and more aware that our Cubitis house has several secret exits for escape should a burglar or other criminal show up in any threatening scenario. At times, I am in the living room watching our small black and white television. There is a point at which I feel or sense that burglars could arrive in our carport. I “remember” two main escape methods as they approach our home. Though I know or sense that my parents are around, they are not directly in any scenario, though I think I see my father briefly at one point, who had been watching part of a wrestling show for a short time while standing.

One method of escape is getting into the bathtub, which then moves down more into the floor in a somewhat elevator-like manner, to be replaced by a duplicate bathtub in a suggested Ferris-wheel-like structure (though much smaller and more simplified). This way, the bathtub I am in does not have to go back up due to the other one immediately taking its place, making the escape less noticeable.

Another method of escape from the house’s known accessible rooms is via the television on the table (though which seems more like a cabinet in-dream). A fake television replaces it using an elevator-like mechanism and one can crawl into the fake television where the screen would otherwise be and go down under the house as with the bathtub (though I believe each escape route goes into a different area of our fictional basement - the Cubitis house in reality was a concrete block home with no basement or cellar).

At one point, it is too late to attempt a better escape as the two criminals (unfamiliar adult males, perhaps in their late thirties) are already at the front door, coming into the house. Instead, I pretend to be an actor inside the fake hollow television as the criminals look around. I pretend to be a card player (seemingly assuming a role in the original “Maverick” series from 1957 on) and I am sitting on my knees on the table inside the hollow television and the criminals apparently are convinced they are seeing a “real” television show for a time. I am not sure if I can reach another escape exit while the criminals are still wandering around in my house.

At least part of this dream was inspired by a View-Master reel, which featured Bugs Bunny (though shown as a 3-D plastic model, it seems) who accidentally broke Porky Pig’s television and then got inside it to perform for its owner (which shows Bugs Bunny holding a playing card hand in the last frame, apparently implying a scene from “Maverick”). It was called “TV Trouble” (1959) and can presently be viewed on YouTube. There were probably a number of dreams that were partially inspired by View-Master reels, as I had almost all that were produced during that time (including numerous ones from the 1940s sent to me by a relative), enough to fill a small suitcase, and I spent considerable time as a child (regarding total time over the years) looking at them.

Morning of February 14, 1976. Saturday.



In the first part of 1973 (February), which repeated with more detail in 1974 and 1976 (the Bicentennial year, which some of the final version of my dream seems to partially reflect), I had a fairly long dream (that varied in semi-lucidity and in-dream awareness from time to time) in which the main subject was a localized Nazi Germany (Hitler is mostly only seen in shadow looking out a somewhat modern-looking window as if from an apartment building - apparently he also “dubs” - makes dub music, or produces it) that was limited to the range of the cow pasture to the east of our home in Cubitis, Florida. To the south from there was a localized Afghanistan, to which Hitler goes to with a large cavalcade of jeeps with various colorful flags - not sure if it is a conquest - but the feel is not so “warlike” - at least with a personal perception - and Osbourne “King Tubby” Ruddock is riding with Hitler, decorated with all sorts of awards for valor or some such. To have “little countries” in the region did not seem odd. It also seems like some sort of alliance, but there are rows and rows of weird flags from hundreds of other countries along the length of train tracks, both real and fictional (including a United Nations flag).

My dream featured my father at the end (C. Clarence “Rider” as in one version of the song, C. C. Rider, See See Rider, etc. - although he was actually known for very long bicycle trips, not motorcycles). We had the same name. In my dream, for some reason, he has a black motorcycle (probably a 1962 Harley). On the front of his motorcycle is some sort of shield (very similar to what an interstate highway sign looks like) with the number 79 on it in red. Near the end of my dream, I am moving rather oddly, with my fists going up and around in a sort of unnatural weird leaping run. We are in the area near the train tracks and halfway in the middle (and going north) of our neighbor’s orange grove (in real life he only ever mowed the front row of his grove, and the empty area near the tracks - which I thought to be a bit strange as rattlesnakes could hide in all the high weeds). I hear a strange humming and buzzing that is rather musical. At first I think it must be Hitler playing his “Death March/Funeral March” (as jeeps roll out behind us near the train tracks) but it turns out to be the motorcycle’s engine humming that song in a very strange and simplistic (but sped up) electronic way. There is a very weird mood in my dream. It is not sad, just slightly eerie. I keep trying to walk and run normally as I try to keep up with my father but I keep leaping oddly.

Finally, instead of saying “Every Good Boy Does Fine” (the treble line notes) to talk about the music - a line he repeated now and then in real life, he softly says “Every Good Boy Dies” (with no “F” note represented) and soon, he rides off, I cannot catch up - This sheet music motif was actually on his tombstone in real life several years later (on the design request of a half-sister I had hardly ever communicated with - see image). There is no sadness, anger, or fear, just a vague sense of awe, mostly related to the weird “humming” motorcycle engine that continues to play “Funeral March” (Chopin) about twice as fast as standard. The audio in my dream was identical (with all the same tones and nuances) to the Commodore 64 Jumpman death theme (when he falls and loses a life) that I did not hear in real life until several years later (1980s, a few years after my father died) and I was also moving exactly like Jumpman (even the same in mid-leap form) regarding the weird leaping - convincing evidence of very precise precognition for years ahead.

In real life at the time, I was making electronic dub music in a very simplistic, limited way as well as other strange recordings and comedy routines with my friends. One “trick” was that I had removed the erasing heads from a tape deck so that any new recording would layer over the first (but required precise timing), but the sound’s highs would be lost on each prior layer (so it was more viable to do the bass first and then build up from each A-based range, 55, 110, 220, 440, 880, etc). Another thing I did was to keep recording layers back and forth with two tape players, but again, it required precise timing, and the tape players’ capstan tolerance levels could not be that variable, because the track would either eventually sound slowed down or sped up (which was why it was common knowledge at the time that if you dubbed that way, you should have two same-brand tape decks not more than a few serial numbers apart). My father bought secondhand cassette decks and tape players almost on a weekly basis at the weekend flea markets just north of us and we sometimes rigged rather odd setups - my father built a large speaker set with several variously sized speakers as well as owning a very large and powerful dancehall amplifier for a time - one of the built-in effects was the exact same sound the vocal uses at the end of the original “Crimson and Clover” with the wavering pseudo-tremolo.

Additional notes:

My father died on February 14, 1979 (79 being the number on the shield on the front of the motorcycle in my dream.)

Adolph Dubs (United States Ambassador to Afghanistan) died on February 14, 1979.

Much here would have been missed had I not documented this one more closely. For example, I did not even catch the “cycle of death” play until quite recently. Given that most precognitive layers within a particular dream come from different time periods yet to unfold, and just as dreams combine aspects of the past somewhat ambiguously, it is also typical to miss combined otherwise unrelated patterns (for example Adolph Dubs, Jumpman, and my father’s death really were not connected in any way). As it is, hundreds of dreams before age nine related directly to my wife-to-be with such precise nuances as to be like one “big picture” already being determined and built long before I become aware in reality.

Morning of November 15, 1975. Saturday.



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Morning of October 19, 1975. Sunday.



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

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

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

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

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