lucid

Night of January 1, 1989. Sunday.



I find myself wandering around in an unknown city, though of which is not very defined, walking from out of an alley, becoming more aware of my existence, though with only partial passive lucidity. It seems to be early evening, though there is not that much light. A low-lying mist, of which comes up halfway to my knees, drifts over some areas of the ground.

After perceiving a few unfamiliar people on the streets, I find myself in the presence of Columbo (the fictional TV detective played by Peter Falk). At first, I am somewhat wary of his presence (though I have no thoughts of having done anything wrong) but then I realize he is only puzzled by his surroundings and sees me as someone of whom he can ask directions. I do not recall all of the conversation but when I start to tell him where Fifth Avenue is after he asks, he holds his right hand up (as an indication for me to wait a minute) and takes out a yellow legal pad and pen from inside his rumpled beige trench coat.

Unexpectedly, a pigeon soon flies out from under his trench coat. He takes a step back and looks up, with a very puzzled visage, as it flies away. I feel very amused.

---

dream processing dynamics; causes, and meanings:

the presence of mist is a factor of being in the dream state (as sometimes inferred and used as such in movies and stage plays)

reticular activating system mediation as vestibular system personification as Peter Falk as his fictional TV character detective Columbo because of being in the dream state as being “a mystery to solve”

liminal anticipation of the waking process causes transference of vestibular system correlation as a bird in flight (rather than the biologically induced sleep start)

Preconscious: Columbo, Emergent Consciousness Factor: flying pigeon, Dream Type: vestibular system correlation (bird in flight metaphor)

This is a unique transmutation of the “walking in a city and tripping, misstepping, or stepping off the curb and falling” dream, which has otherwise occurred on a nightly basis for over fifty years.

---

Night of August 16, 1988. Tuesday.



This was a very long “search” dream that seemed to last all night. I was wandering around in La Crosse on the south side starting out near the King Street boarding house.

I was looking for General, my cat. He was a temporary pet that was a stray that showed up and which eventually left to go his own way (or someone else started feeding him more, or whatever the situation, as cats are not loyal, especially strays). I wander around on the streets and do not see any other people or cars. The cat General only makes a few appearances. I see him running down the street as well as seeing him sleeping in the middle of the street at one point (and there is a vague concern, but again, there is no traffic of any kind though I do question why cats do this in real life). There is a light mist in some areas at times.

I feel as if the search will never end. I end up going all the way to the northside of La Crosse and back again. At times, there seems to be more than one “version” of him in different areas of the neighborhood. Of course I need to find the “real” or “non-ghost” version. Although I wander about the streets for what seems like hours, there is no sense of tiredness and it seems to stay around eleven or twelve o'clock at night for nearly an entire day. My perception seems extraordinarily clear. At times, I seem to be floating without body, incorporeal, and then back to being in human form again, and I sometimes wonder if the cat is staying mostly in “spirit form” in a similar manner at times.

---

Domestic cats are commonly a preconscious avatar as a “witness” to the dream state and the nature of liminal space.

---

Morning of June 1, 1988. Friday.



This dream has very strange imagery and seems of the type where I am both disembodied as well as somehow “outside” my dream. I am apparently looking at a magazine (though it seems like a “real” scene as well, eventually), and focusing more and more on it. I see the “Dennis the Menace” character and he appears to be in a store, perhaps in preparation to look at or buy comic books, though his dog Ruff is also in the store and standing to his left (my right in perspective but a bit more in the foreground). I seem to be looking at a large colorful drawing or perhaps a sketchy oil painting by Hank Ketcham. (It somehow does not seem at all like part of a comic strip or comic book.)

The more closely I look over the scene, the more things seem “off” even though it seems “real”. Dennis the Menace has only one large eye on his forehead, which is somewhat dome-like and a sort of “sickly” brownish green. It may also be implied to be somewhat reflective (or mirror-like, though also “dirty” or murky). There are no other eye-like details, just the oval green “blob” on his forehead. This causes me to feel somewhat strange and out-of-place as if I am almost looking at something “wrongfully” otherworldly. I do not become lucid but begin to “understand” that everything is otherwise “normal” about this character’s drawing at this point in time. Prior to waking, it almost seems like the “real” Dennis may have been “taken over” by an alien threat (or at least as such relevant to semiconscious waking thoughts).

---

Explanations for this dream are not all that diffciult to determine. Firstly, dreams typically have surreal and bizarre imagery, often incidental, so this could just be a “glitch” as such. However, it could also be a play on the “third eye”. Dennis is not a real character, which could reflect the “unreal” dream state. The “eye” could also represent a “portal” (that is, the return to waking reality as my dream “melts” into one color and with less detail). Because of the color it may relate to looking down into the ground.

---

The “Dennis the Menace” comic panel prior to this date was a gag where he said “Guess what, mom! All the mirrors in the house look like ME!” - which may have vaguely influenced my dream on one level (and the one on this date - not yet seen at the time - having him ask Mr. Wilson, who is digging, “Who buries the worms here in the first place?” - nothing I know of relating to any “explanation” for this imagery other than the eye being partly mirror-like relating to a meditation I had been doing). I also had read many of the “Dennis the Menace” digests when younger but this is the only significant dream of this nature ever documented.

---

Update: On this date in 2001 (exactly 13 years after this dream), Hank Ketcham passed away. This makes both my dream and his own comic panel published on this date in 1988 seem a bit eerie (no disrespect intended).

Morning of April 3, 1988. Sunday. Easter Sunday.



CS and her daughter NS are at my sister Marilyn’s house on Loomis Street. It involves the appearance of the “Anti-Easter Bunny”. It is fairly large and black and actually seems to have a “dark” and somewhat menacing presence in my dream (yet does not directly threaten or attempt to harm me or anyone else in any way). It appears on the dining room table, but moves about in a couple other locations in the house. My sister is also there. There is no actual fear, though, just a sense of awe and eeriness and an unusual awareness of something other than my own existence or in-dream awareness. It does seem like an external presence from outside my dream, as I am semi-lucid and eventually lucid, but no drama ensues. I get the awareness that its ears have the essence of larger bat wings (though they do not look like bat wings) and there is the essence of the hooves of a horse in sound and movement somehow, supposedly when it moves or “teleports” elsewhere. Again, it does not come near me in any threatening sense, but appears a few times.

Curiously, NS said that she had the same dream around the same time (with no indications or cues of any kind) and she said that she “threw a jelly bean at it and it disappeared”.

Morning of February 13, 1988. Saturday.

Dream #: 7,726-02. Optimized 1 min 15 sec read.

I find myself in the backyard of an unfamiliar house I associate with being in Southside La Crosse, possibly southwest of the King Street mansion. (It may be on Cass Street though its front is never visible.) It is late morning. Through a window more on the right, I see a group of about five unfamiliar men who are all at least ten years older than me. They are wearing formal clothes in what seems to be a kitchen. I get the impression they are having a business meeting. My bicycle is leaning against the outer wall of a utility room to my left.

When the men come out, none of them seem to see me as a trespasser. I notice one cheerful man in a business suit who is now walking a bicycle not only identical to mine, but it is somehow the same one. I ask, feeling an increase in mental clarity (on the threshold of dream state recognition), “How is this possible?” He says, with a friendly tone and as if he knows me, “Parallel ground, Claude.” The men continue walking away to the right (when looking at the back of the house), presumably to use the private sidewalk adjacent to the house’s east side.

---

Bicycles in my dreams are primarily vestibular system response indicators with literal correlations (chiefly imaginary kinesthesia that exponentially vivifies and sustains a dreaming experience the longer I focus on my activity) unrelated to symbolism. In this dream, however, I do not utilize imaginary kinesthesia by riding a bicycle.

---

What does “parallel ground” mean? Here, it is a declaration from my protoconsciousness or personified preconsciousness at the threshold of my waking. The term occurs in electronics, so there may also be a reference to the mentation of dreaming and mind-body reconnectivity. It may also originate from the duality of dreaming and metacognitive dreaming as a whole.

---

Morning of October 30, 1987. Friday.



My dream’s title is based on having been a fan of Marvel’s “Werewolf by Night” comic book (the original series).

---

I have had similar dreams as this where I am able to focus on my hands and grow claws and feel very vivid sensations of their emergence from my fingers, even though this dream is not fully lucid, as I know things are “different” yet I do not fully associate the state with being in a dream (but I do recognize its unrealistic nature). My dream colored my mood in a very lighthearted and positive way. I believe my name as a werewolf is “Sawtooth”. My becoming a werewolf is fully determined by my own cheerful desire to and not a result of the full moon’s influence. I am also aware of wolf canines growing but this is not uncomfortable, though I do clearly feel changes and pressure in that area (through semi-lucid threads of intent at one point).

The ending of my dream provides a strong state of happiness and an augmented sense of freedom, primarily freedom from the negative aspects of human society. I have become half-wolf, half-man, but I am still running upright like a human, to the southwest. It is about ten o'clock in the morning. Not that far away, to the south, my target is a very dense (fictional) forest, the trees seemingly only a few feet apart at least on the perimeter. It would otherwise be located about two blocks south of my older sister Marilyn’s house. I am blissful about living in the deep dark forest. Even though it is late morning prior to twelve, with no full moon anywhere - and in fact the sun is shining, I hear the howls of fellow werewolves from within the woods, and although there seems like twenty or so, I never see another werewolf in my dream. I still feel a strange seemingly serious kinship, even though the overall dream at this point is quite silly. There is a very cheerful, positive feeling, although I feel as if I will somehow completely “lose” myself upon entering the forest (not in a negative sense; more like being a playful child again, free as I was in the woods of Chipmunk Coulee before I went to public school), which is to be my home from then on. However, I awake before reaching the edge of the forest, the edge being east and west and almost perfectly straight across. Upon waking, in addition to general freedom, I realize that another aspect that was in the back of my dream self’s mind, is freedom from the expectations of others.

---

The main influence here was “I Was a Middle Aged Werewolf” (even though I was young at the time of this dream), a “Highway to Heaven” episode, where the angel played by Michael Landon (who was born on Halloween in 1936) was also in “I Was a Teenage Werewolf” from 1957.

---

Morning of April 5, 1986. Saturday.



I had apparently been “sleeping” or resting in my dream in an unfamiliar room, but which is like a composite of the front (northeast) first floor bedroom on Loomis Street and seemingly a hotel room that is on a higher floor (at the same height the airplane is flying). I become aware of a very loud percussive sound, which gets clearer and clearer and seems to be getting closer to where I am. (I am unsure if this dream event was caused by real-life noise.) Looking out the window (implied to be a fictional window open to the north when using the layout of the familiar Loomis Street bedroom), I see that it is a 1940s military aircraft of a greenish gray color (which resembles a Grumman F8F Bearcat) that seems to be shooting at something (though I perceive that it is apparently present time in my dream, not the 1940s) and there are associations with Tripoli or Tipperary. Even though it is heading for the building I am in, even seemingly shooting in my direction, it does not crash or pose any actual threat now or later. I am not sure what happens to it after this as my dream shifts to where I am then outside. I assume that there is a small war going on in the region, though I am not clear on the location. There is confusion with Germany and Turkey as well as Libya and vague terrorist associations. Logically, it is probably meant to be the Middle East.

Later, I am standing outside, still seemingly in present time. I am one of the first people in a line of several hostages, which includes mostly older men and women. I am soon well aware that I am not me, though. Instead, I seem to be a much older male civilian or at least occupying his body somehow, perhaps a journalist. A hostile male facing the line, seemingly in charge, and holding an AK-47 or similar, is possibly going to shoot us all, though this is uncertain. At this time, I feel a strange vivid sense of both fear and growing relief and quickly rise up out of this character as if I was only inhabiting his body temporarily and do not want to be him if he is killed (which seems impending at this point). I rise higher and higher, looking down on the scene which includes bombed-out buildings. Meanwhile, I feel as if I somehow legitimately had been in this situation but am now escaping and “returning” to my own body, the presumed possibility of this remaining in fleeting conscious afterthought.

---

Night of November 8, 1985. Friday.

Dream #: 6,899-02. Reading time (optimized): 1 min 30 sec.



Vestibular stage: I feel as if I am in a southwest area of La Crosse, possibly near Third Street, but my dream’s rendering is erroneous. I am riding my bicycle, probably past midnight, through a mist with an eerie glow. I had not seen any other traffic.

I am enjoying myself. I pedal faster and faster even though I cannot see what is ahead of me, though I am vaguely aware I am dreaming. At one point, I am moving fast through an alley, heading west. Suddenly, I see another vehicle approaching from the north as I am exiting into an open area that seems adjacent to a small parking lot to the north as well as an intersection. My dream becomes more vivid, though the certainty I am dreaming increases only in the last few seconds.

Preconscious emergence (as authoritative): The vehicle is a small motorcycle with a police officer riding it. I cannot see his eyes because he is wearing dark sunglasses (an indicator that I am sleeping) or a face shield under a light-colored helmet, though I can see his mouth, which has no expression. I suddenly slow down so as not to draw his attention with my speed, especially as it seems we might collide. Even though the scene is otherwise vivid and realistic, he and his motorcycle seem scaled down to about half the size they should be. I slowly approach the intersection as he continues south, to my left and beyond, without turning his head towards me at any point. I wake after he passes out of sight. (There was no vestibular drop, only a vague awareness of the process as the motorcycle crossed my path.)

---

The intersection offers three choices. I can turn left to follow the motorcycle cop (which I technically do with the waking process), keep going (keep dreaming), or turn right with the implication of returning to slow-wave sleep (so-called dreamless sleep). (The direction options are atypical as I am otherwise on my left side when dreaming vividly, not my right.)

---

One Christmas, my father bought me a toy remote control police motorcycle with an officer riding it. My dreaming experience rendered its nature as too small and of an artificial essence (though those aspects are common to dreams).

---

Morning of July 6, 1985. Saturday.



Probably one of the most unusual clearer dreams I have had involved thinking I had awakened (in a very vivid “realistic” false awakening), only to find myself in persistent sleep paralysis (where I believe I actually did open my eyes at times). A box of Kraft macaroni and cheese (single serving) danced around in the air, screaming “Eat me! Eat me!” in a rather high-pitched raspy voice and it was shaking about like a loud rattle in my ears and face.

I feel great discomfort yet also feel the mildly pleasant body-wide tingling. I try to cover my head but it does not work very well. It seems to torment me for several minutes. As I finally begin to wake more fully, I notice a smaller moving silver engraving (like a photographic negative) of a heron and a bittern dressed up like elderly gentlemen (though the birds incorrectly rendered as being around the same size), with one in a top hat and the other in a derby, and with canes and fancy shoes, in a position moving away from near my door (King Street boarding house - the L-shaped room), on a table. Although they are implied to be walking westward, the imagery mostly remains in one area, as if I am seeing it on some sort of implied projection (as if on an unseen television otherwise).

As soon as I woke up, I went into the kitchen and cooked and ate that last box of macaroni and cheese. (Well…what would you have done?) I was not “starving” but I had regularly been eating a lot less at the time. I do get a vague impression at one point that the birds may be coming back from “celebrating the Fourth of July” in a partial or subtle anthropomorphic manner.

I have finally decoded the macaroni and spaghetti symbolism, I believe. It relates directly to the energies of the human brain (as a bowl of cooked macaroni and cheese resembles the brain to some extent). The box (in its potential but not utilized form) was trying to get me to appreciate the nature of using my brain in my state of sleep paralysis and the two birds represented my conscious and subconscious finding freedom in “walking together”.

Morning of April 6, 1985. Saturday.



I am sitting in cool water with my knees up, the level of the clear water about six inches down from my knees, though it is not completely gone by the end of the waking stage. A very large number of very small green frogs are present. They hop around on my knees and shoulders, making little chirping sounds. I hold some of them carefully know and then as they leap around.

Although the location is unknown, there is a vague sense of bilocation with my King Street bed (in the L-shaped apartment) which I discern as being in its real-life location). Still, I also seem to be in an outdoor area in an actual large pond. No one else is around. There is a very intense feeling of happiness as well as relaxation. I very slowly become lucid but only just prior to waking. It is almost like taking a morning bath outside.

---

Although this is a typical water induction (most common induction factor since early childhood), the frogs are possibly just incidental since I associate them with water. However, they would still be on the upper end of the dreaming stage, more so than a fish, which represents the downgrading of conscious self identity in being less active in being unconscious (asleep). This dream though, is very vivid, so the tiny frogs, which are very active, probably relate (in real time) to neuron activity and dawning awareness in coming out of sleep (whereas tadpoles and fish would be more relevant to the dynamics of the temporary dream self identity).

Water symbolizes sleep and the dynamics of sleep in real time. As such, a beach or shore of a lake (and similar locations) is the liminal space between sleep (water) and the more viable land or waking life beyond the beach. The clarity and depth of the water relate directly to circadian rhythm factors and real time sleep dynamics, something I was already aware of at age four from dreams such as “The Angler” (1965).

---

Night of November 5, 1984. Monday. (To morning of November 6.)



As some of this one facet of a small part of my lifelong “story” involves hundreds of pages, I will include only basic information here, and a copy of Zsuzsanna’s journal page from when she was much younger and written long before we made real contact (though at the time of this dream). There are many more entries both already online and not yet posted anywhere that add hundreds more unexplainable layers that prove (for me) dreams are often a composite of precognition and remote viewing and there is absolutely no one that could convince me otherwise, especially twenty years on in a blissful, sensuous and spiritual marriage and with healthy children (though I do understand how there are deceitful people that, for whatever reason, are somehow against marriage and family and who sadly deny love itself - you the reader have likely seen it yourself many times - they are very good at pretending and creating fabricated drama).

There were earlier “prototypes” and precursors for this dream, and there were many that implied the eventual “battle” between Susan R and the “mystery girl”, this still being years before it was confirmed that hundreds of my childhood dreams implemented more precise precognition and remote viewing, which has turned out for me to be what dreams mainly are. The “mystery girl” dreams were all precognitive; they not only “introduced” me to my soulmate before she was born, they revealed every minute detail from the unlikely accent and cultural mix, to birthplace (exactly inverted to my birth place) from directly across the ocean (as shown in other entries).

Before the Blue Pearl (or “blue flame” or Merkaba) was more dominant in my perception, I saw it in Susan R. My first dream where I “ended up” with the “mystery girl” in an implied marriage would not be accepted as truth by most, due to it having elements of maturity for me at the age of eight (I am never in a mood to debate so I will not go into it). It was validated many times that Brenda W was the wife-to-be “stand-in”, which was validated again in 1991 just prior to real contact with my wife-to-be (and involving the “blue sun”).

My main castle dream implied a battle between Susan R and the “mystery girl” (who looked exactly like my wife-to-be in every way and with the same mixed heritage and same intriguing mixed Romani/Hungarian/Australian accent). The castle was implied to be beyond the area (at the end of the hanging bridge) where the “Bridge Over a Prehistoric World” dream took place - which started with watching Susan R (a transparent “blue egg” around her) leave me and ended with me hugging my wife-to-be archetype. The castle exists high in the sky, on a floating small hill, but only of partial land area, with plant roots hanging down from underneath. It seems to be “another realm” with a different “speed” of time (hard to explain). I get the clear impression that the castle stays only in areas where night exists.

The castle also has areas of temple-like rooms as well as oddly modern neon lights in some areas (almost like a discotheque). It is very vivid. Some lights are too bright to directly look at. I do look over the edge of the floating hill at one point, and see the view as if from an airplane flying very high; I see the lights of a larger city far below, barely perceptible at times. Susan R seems oddly upset at looking at her own reflection (though I eventually discover that is not what she is looking at in the mirror). She frustratingly yells “get out” at the mirror, which seems odd to me though reminds me strongly of the scene from “Fear No Evil”, first seen March 3, 1969.

My mental “connection” to Susan is broken (there were events prior to this which I do not recall). The “mystery girl”, wearing a black dress and a diamond necklace and some sort of unusual swept-back “crown”, emerges from the mirror, quite royal-looking, with glowing green catlike eyes and quite precise, sensual motions. I am amazed by her beauty. It is her. “Queen of the Gypsies”. Well, at least a dazzling princess. Orange-tinted skin. I even detect a trace of Aboriginal Australian.

From here, the two girls fight in an epic battle of screeching voices and incredibly intense and eerie screeching wind. They are arguing about me, my purpose, my birth, where I should live, and who I “belong to”. I believe the “mystery girl” is “screeching” and “whistling” the loudest and affirming that I am hers. It is very strange to hear this - like the wind itself “arguing” with itself, like lightning bolts “wriggling” against each other, like clouds trying to “strangle” each other. The Merkaba appears to be spinning out of control for a time sort of knocking into each girl’s silhouette for a time. The voices reach a point where they are not human-sounding at all in any way.

One of them falls to the ground far below, eventually, but I am not sure who; I only see her silhouette falling, back first with arms out. I think I have had enough commotion, so I turn to leave…almost finding my way out before someone behind me asks “Where are you going? You cannot go alone”. I am not alarmed but I do not see her directly. I only see her shadow on the wall. I wake.

This “battle” and long-term outcome (as some already know) could not have taken place solely within my own dreams, but could only have happened in a collective sense (in the supraconscious perhaps) or “another plane” of reality. There have been a number of dreams where I eventually was absolutely sure of this and there is not the slightest evidence to the contrary. What is also interesting is that my wife also loosely describes the Barbara Steele movie I was fascinated by as a young child and it remains a favorite movie (1964’s “Danse Macabre” aka “Castle of Blood” aka “Castle of Terror”) yet she had never heard of it or seen it. In a way, this dream is actually a “replay” of some aspects of it.

There were other dreams involving Susan R and the “mystery girl” (wife-to-be) within the same setting or relative to one event or another. I do not know the dynamics behind this, as I had never contacted Susan after high school. (In fact, she is the only one I have never been able to contact or find out more about out of all my classmates through all school years. I did hear she was married, though. Another girl with her same full name, unrelated I believe, married someone with my name - and my surname is not very common at all.)

My wife Zsuzsanna’s older poem from her teenage years follows in text - which implies another layer of reality and which matches my dream above as well as being from the same time period (do not forget the thousands of other facts that confirmed the “mystery girl’s” identity many years before I met her).

A castle on the hill

gleaming lights and flights of stairs

running through the corridors

looking for the door

it’s a mystery where are you going

you cannot go alone

for there is something eerie

watching the lights fade away

then all I heard was a shout

a voice pleading to get out

it’s a mystery where will I go

I cannot go alone

A mystery in the castle

A mystery of neon lights

A mystery of you and me

A mystery the facts of love

Night of September 23, 1984. Sunday.



Of all the continuous unexplained events throughout my life, this is perhaps one of the strangest, as well as “deepest” relative to clear memory - in that there is no doubt of my experience and perspective at the time, no matter how “impossible” it seems.

The basic nature of this event is as follows…I had fallen asleep on the couch in the living room on Loomis Street. My brother-in-law Bob was set to watch “Hardcastle and McCormick” (the first episode of the second season, “Outlaw Champion” - neither of us had seen the episode before). I was falling asleep at the time he was maneuvering to the correct channel. In my dream state, I heard the entire dialogue and sound of the show for the hour that seemingly followed, including the commercials. It did not stop there, though. The episode repeated in its entirety and was starting to get monotonous as I had already heard it (and seen parts of it seemingly through half-closed eyes). When the episode came on again for the third time, I was extremely frustrated and wondered what was going on. I was in an odd state of consciousness, with a clearer sense of false awakenings than usual. I was certain that three hours had passed and that it was near ten o'clock.

At some points, there were distortions. One distortion was that the name of the show became “Hardcastle and Rock”. In fact, this distortion was so dominating, I actually misremembered this is the “real” name a few years later and even wrote it as such in much later journal references (without looking back on older entries - bear in mind that much of my dream journal and dream work is now on larger-capacity flash drives with fully searchable terms and references, going back to when I was born).

During this extraordinarily boring time of “seeing” (or at least hearing) the same episode three times in a row there were unusual distortions where lucid dream states seemed to “interfere” with the continuity, but oddly, it continued correctly when “going back” rather than having a gap in what I was hearing. The main lucid dreams, which were more vivid than usual, were of being in the small yard at the front of the house and seeing the shadowy silhouette of the “mystery girl”, seemingly a teenager, standing closer to the left side of the front of the house. There is seeming mental contact and a “knowledge” that I will be with her within about ten years or so. This seems too long to wait, especially with this television show repeating over and over. She seems tentative, a bit shy to approach me, and remains about six feet away in the semidarkness of the evening (it seems much later at night in my dream than it actually is in reality, and again, it seemed that about three hours had passed in the final section of this dream scenario). Typically in dreams of this extreme lucidity, I “play with” my own shadow for a time (which I believe is the wakeful conscious mind as seen by my dream self), though this time the shadow is actually the female and I do not see her as “me” at all (though perhaps the “missing part” of me), thus I do not indulge in the shadow play. I am fully aware of her being a separate consciousness somehow and the form of “true love”.

I eventually start to silently question why in the world my brother-in-law would watch the show three times in a row (instead of more logically thinking about the extreme unlikelihood of why they would air it three times in a row in the first place).

When I eventually wake…the show is only just starting in reality, still showing the opening - so I hear (and this time see more of) the show for the fourth time - with more conscious focus. I had a hard time trying to work out how this had happened, especially as I had already (and correctly) seen it three times in my dream state. I was not really disoriented, just slightly annoyed at yet again experiencing something no one would believe, otherwise the very “normal” (and unproblematic) day to day nature of my lifetime since birth. I get an idea relating to other entities “tampering” with time, which may or may not directly relate to the “mystery girl”. Still, I shortly disregard it as something not that unusual (at least for me).

As I had, to my knowledge, only experienced this more lucid “looping” effect once in my life in this particular way, it seems like a rare potential. However, in all honesty, it is not really all that different from the typical precognitive/remote viewing hybrids experienced all the time, other than that there was more clarity and focus (especially in audio), and for a seeming extended time period (far longer than usual, when, however, it could not have been more than a couple minutes even though my dream’s fully in-body sections with the “mystery girl” seemed to be about twenty minutes long, as well as including the “three hours” of the repeating show). With all the other virtually endless precognitive and remote viewing experiences, there was never the residual sense of literally “repeating time” as with this event (typical “repeating” or “reset” dreams did not share this awareness at all, for some reason).

This also matches my wife’s experiences to some extent in seeking “the one who was meant for her” especially as the “mystery girl” was exactly like her in every way, including being the correct age for this particular dream (even the unlikely ethnicity combination and accent). She wrote to me in real life in 1991 at the same address as this dream occurred.

There are additional strange coincidences too personal to relate here.

---

Morning of April 9, 1984. Monday.



I was in bed, listening to The Alan Parsons Project’s “Tales of Mystery and Imagination: Edgar Allan Poe”. I imagined the imagery and detail. It was one of my favorite cassettes of the time, along with their “I Robot” album.

In one vivid dream of the “mystery girl”, the petite Persian Hungarian gypsy girl from Australia (with a curious mixed accent) with the beautiful green eyes and dark curly hair, there is a storm coming; a large tornado. This, for whatever reason, does not concern me all that much.

As the tornado gets closer, I do feel a slight wariness. The tornado is the lower half of the Merkaba in dreams, and at other levels, is the unknown future or “destiny” if you will. On another level it is the energies of the supraconscious (Universal Mind) in connecting with other levels of consciousness as perceived by the conscious mind; that is, other “realms” of mind and supraconscious exchanging energies as a new force as with a cold front meeting a warm front in causing wind and stormy weather. As I am at least partly lucid, I am not worried about being killed. Once I step into the tornado I see a beautiful young girl and recognize her as my “dream girl”. She leans back on a bed and as I approach her (in this case, I somehow see myself approaching her) there is a sense of wholeness. It is almost as if I rose above the tornado and looked down into it, where everything was clear and blue, a circular portal; an image of fulfillment.

In a dream within a dream, I am seemingly Edgar Allan Poe in a way. My dream journals are so extensive that I have indexes within indexes, often copied to new journals with additional important observations and notes added. A raven wants to be fed stale undercooked hamburger, which it seems to like more than bologna or canned fish. I seem to receive a very important “warning” related to not allowing “ordinary” people to influence me in any way and not allow them to “interpret” not only my dreams, but even ideas I develop over time out of life experiences. I sensed an unusual idea that other people one day, around the world, would see a small part of my childhood dream work as well as other writing. Of course, this seemed like a preposterous idea. How could one just “show their dreams on television for others to watch” whenever they felt like it? Perhaps the advancements of computers could achieve this? Likely far too expensive for the average person to ever be feasible…

One person said that the tornado was related to my “mental turmoil” (though I had less “turmoil” than others I knew) over my pretense that I would be married to a beautiful girl and have children within ten years or so. The raven was perhaps a burden, it was claimed, a “shadowy presence” representing despair, “a shadow hanging over me”. However, in my dreams, my two youngest “fictional” children learn from the raven, which speaks to them of the patterns of life and nature. I supposed other people would have been happy over me never marrying who I considered the most beautiful girl on Earth in another country. People in general have mostly only “cop outs” to share, “cop outs” which never have any value, except in learning and knowing what not to do or what not to believe from others or society as a whole.

Years later, in real life, after I married my dream girl, “our” raven sat on my chair watching me type on my computer. My two healthy and loving children enjoyed having a raven in the house for a few weeks until I decided it was fully healed (from a non-fatal dog attack) enough to fly on its own. It still came back and said “hi” now and then…but there was one time at the computer, when I reached behind me to give it a piece of raw stale hamburger and gave it a pat that I thought of the potential for the majority of “ordinary” human beings to ever accept the truth…or in fact, have any credibility at all. I almost thought I heard the raven quote (deep in the recesses of my mind) “nevermore”.

Morning of February 9, 1983. Wednesday.



It is up to the individual dreamer to “decode” every precise clue that either the Universal Mind or Merkaba vehicle (experienced when awake as a blue flash in the left eye) gives them based on layering everything he or she sees into personal mythology to eventually “live the dream” so to speak, with one’s partner, together as Yin and Yang incarnate rather than just personal ascension (of which needs to come before the twin soul union). Everything in existence must be used correctly and confirmed, with no room for doubt or “interference” from the unenlightened or uniformed. In my case, I did not know it would all turn out so literal, almost like a grand comedy. (For example, even my wife’s step father’s name is “Davy Jones”, the “real” mermaid’s father. Hilarious.)

This dream transition (the Eurythmics songs being the catalyst) started in February 9th of 1983 (what I would call the “prototype” or “birth” of this dream scenario), February 9th also being the date I came to Australia (in 1994, exactly eleven years later). Although my real “mystery girl’s” name was “known” as either Savannah or variations of Susannah when very young, the name Jennifer in this case stands for the shape-shifter or mermaid form. In fact, “Jennie Haniver” actually is a faux mermaid created from skeletal sea life remains. (One of our youngest daughter’s middle names is Revinah, which is “Haniver” in reverse; a bit of trivia for relentless clue-seekers.)

Most versions of this dream (both in their lucid and non-lucid forms) were quite epic and would be too long to address the variations in one entry. It also seemed to be a direct continuation of my “Reptilian Girl” dream (from February 9th, 1977 - once again the same date but years apart) which even correctly rendered the scar on my wife-to-be’s wrist in real life before I met her; hers is the same distance from the bottom of the palm as mine and amusingly seems like the “continuation” of my own larger scar (near-fatal accident from age two) when our arms are held together.

Mostly, the scenario is based on the statue at the La Crosse public library coming to life and assuming the form of my wife-to-be (whom I first made real contact with in March of 1991). This bronze statue (known as “Reflections III”, which was also the name of a novel my wife-to-be had been working on, including being the third written form) is described as follows: “This piece was donated in 1979 by Dr. Adolph Gundersen. It depicts a young woman resting on top of a carved base which was designed as an integral part of the sculpture. The figure and the base create ‘complementary negative images and contradicting planes’ in the words of the artist. The title is intentionally ambiguous, referring to reflections of the figure in the base, reflections in the pool of water before it, and the intellectual process of reflecting upon an idea.”

My “mystery girl” and I are intimate (and most of my dream scenes take place at night, where she eventually becomes the “Reflections III” statue “again” before dawn). At times, “normal” people seem to be aware or come to learn of her existence (though there are those who deny her existence, as with Jennie in “The Bermuda Depths”, much to their later misfortune). At one point, she becomes a shark and devours people who are pursuing me. At another point, she becomes a black panther (related to my own becoming a black panther in dreams of the night of April 9, 1982 into the next morning, but of an unusual “reshaping” in which in my dream, I become a black panther and catch and eat a rabbit, though in this dream, she is a black panther and actually transforms into a rabbit as she is running, all this inspired directly from a scene from “Cat People” seen on the night of April 9, 1982, the same date I was married in 1994).

In the last part of my dream, after she becomes a rabbit, she jumps into the water becoming a dolphin. I see her leap in the distance as the sky grows darker. (This is likely an influence from “The Incredible Mr. Limpet”, although Don Knotts becomes a fish, not a dolphin, as wrongly written in some plot descriptions by people who obviously did not really know the movie.)

There is an ominous scene where the statue is gone. People go out to “hunt” her, but I know they will never find her. It is my intention to “go to the other side of the ocean” to find her.

This goes all the way back to 1965 from my dream “The Thinker” and later “breakthrough” dreams (such as “Sentient Flood” from 1990) where “living statues” seem to relate to an “awakening” of something important to the dreamer’s real-life path. It may be a major archetype for others as well, though I cannot be sure since I can only “see” my own experiences.

After these dreams, I had a strange feeling I would be meeting her in real life (even marrying her), which of course…I did, in 1994.

Relevant influences and tie-ins:

“The Incredible Mr. Limpet”; 1964 Don Knotts movie

“It”; 1966 Roddy McDowall movie (secondary influence)

“The Bermuda Depths”; 1978 television movie (main influence)

“Portrait of Jennie”; 1948 movie

“Jennifer”; Eurythmics song from 1983 as here, which directly followed “Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)” (catalyst transition)

“Ocean Girl”; David Essex song

Morning of October 9, 1982. Saturday.



I am back in my Cubitis bedroom and I become lucid from an unknown cause (and I eventually shift into apex lucidity) but with a cautious awareness. For a time, I indulge in a lot of different scenes involving several different girls, who, for the most part, otherwise walk around enjoying themselves. I also enjoy developing various geometrical shapes in seemingly new combinations.

At one point, I fall into focusing on various connecting planes at different angles (for example, a couch, relative to the front at ninety degrees from the seat and how the arms are structured, the three-dimensional surfaces and angles enhancing my interest in dream structures). I also deliberately gaze into the eyes of one unknown female to see if I can see something special, yet all I see are the sort of lightning-like patterns (and sometimes cilia-like forms) that make up the irises and the “oil” which makes up the pupils. Still, I see myself in the pupil, which is mirror-like, the act being similar to looking into a Christmas tree ornament.

Over time, there are unusual physical effects. It seems as if I have been performing (sexually) for days. In the last segment (as I am thinking of what to do with my dream state and heightened clarity), I notice a dream character that seems to be lurking behind a doorway, but only his arms and hands are in view at first. I see that he is holding and pointing a pistol (though not at me at first as it almost seems that he plans on hiding a little longer). At this point, he is the only dream character other than myself.

“Come outta there!” I yell as a command.

“You’re under arrest!” the unfamiliar man addresses me cautiously.

Believing that I have no use for authority in my own dream, I do a hand motion and make him point the gun to his head but he struggles (and I have to increase my own will over the scene almost as if he has his own will power), saying “No, no, wait, I have something important to tell you!” Just as I am about to eliminate him (or feel that I could), I change my mind. Instead, I pause and decide to listen, because he almost seems a part of me. I get the impression that he is the last policeman to exist in “this world”.

I stand near the center of the living room, facing west (towards my bedroom doorway). He faces me, though a bit to my left. He lowers his gun and starts talking to me about my father (who had died on Valentine’s Day in 1979). (On one level, I seem to be aware of what he is going to say as if there is some sort of “automatic agreement”.) I realize that there had been guilt at not having performed in public with my father (or even being in the audience) at his last music venue. This seems somewhat profound, especially as the last words I ever heard him say (prior to his leaving to perform at the venue) “I sure wish you’d come with me”. Not feeling the connection to people or the interest to entertain or please them (aside from feeling out of place and uneasy in front of people at times), I did not have enough willpower to go. That was his last concert and in the middle, the very last words he said (to his audience), “looks like you’re going to have to play the jukebox from now on”.

From here, the policeman now seems sort of scruffy. He also now appears to be only about half my height. Still, he seems more relaxed with me. As he is looking down at the floor, he says “It’s time for a new movie”, what I take to mean a release of any and all guilt related to my father and how I was not with him in his last conscious moments, as he had in his own subtle way hinted at before leaving the house.

---

This lucid dream had likely gone on a bit too long (as biologically, a dreamer must eventually wake). The personified preconscious is eventually rendered (via the emergent consciousness) and “arrests” me, though there is still some unusual trailing conversation. One of the meanings of “It’s time for a new movie” could actually mean that it is time to wake to dream again at a later date, though it may also relate to not replaying the reality-based “mental movie” of guilt concerning my father.

---