memorable

Night of April 10, 1989. Monday.



I am at my sister Marilyn’s house in La Crosse (on Loomis Street). It is fairly late at night. My brother-in-law Bob is watching television (and “not socially present”) as usual and I think my sister is working on a latch-hook rug. Brother Dennis and sister’s friend CS are also there.

Over time, bees get in the house through the front porch. I am very annoyed at the thought, as they pose a threat (though I am not allergic) in my dream (but I have nothing against them in real life). Eventually, I go outside onto the street (not in the middle, but to one side - the west, closet to my sister’s house, where cars usually park). I start dancing and singing in what is somewhat like a slow version of the Shawnee Stomp Dance.

Curiously, some clouds gather over the full moon and it starts to rain. The bees start to land on me, but the rain washes them away and I start to feel more and more ecstatic, moving my head about and surrendering to the amazing sensations of rain on my body.

I am watched from the doorway as if people are concerned about me. Apparently, they seem to think it is better to sit inside the house and get stung by bees than to be out dancing in the rain and getting wet. For some reason, this (their amazing ignorance) only inspires me to dance with more enthusiasm and sing louder and louder, feeling more and more blissful while giving thanks to the dark night sky above me that delivers the purity (in my dream) of the rain.

I am aware of their shadows in the doorway as if from a “lower” world or plane or beyond/below infrared. They stay inside as a feeling of beauty overwhelms me, almost like ecstasy, which leaves me breathless and feeling as if I am suddenly flying, seemingly formless, at an incredible speed into green fields.

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Morning of October 11, 1988. Tuesday.



I am on an old-fashioned passenger train (as if from an episode of “Gunsmoke”, though a few people here and there are dressed rather anachronistically relative to more modern dress as well). I seem to be dressed typically as I often am in reality. I have a strange atypical focus, as if I am in a type of ambiguous faux lucidity and am trying to work out how I got where I am and with a vague ominous perspective. A younger version of the “mystery girl” (the female archetype that represented, in almost every accurate way possible - my wife-to-be - something “normal” people would never believe no matter how many hundreds of dreams had already clearly established it for me since birth).

Being on a train may or may not be a good thing, I contemplate “realistically” in-dream. There is some sort of “anniversary” premonitory thought in-dream related to both the scene from “Twilight Zone: The Movie” from June 1983 (where the Jewish people are being taken away on a train), and “Love My Way” (by The Psychedelic Furs) from June 1982, with the line “They’d put us on a railroad, they’d dearly make us pay”…which seems to relate to how I knew things (and proved to be correct) when everyone else was always in denial, which has been mostly the theme of my entire lifetime since early childhood, always giving me a weird advantage in some ways but pure puzzlement in others (yet again remembering that “normal” people, especially the cop-out mentality when facing the unexplainable, always baffled me far more than the unexplained or so-called paranormal, now more than ever).

It dawns on me that the “mystery girl” may be in danger, though I do not feel threatened in any way, as I seem to be “invulnerable” in the setting for some reason I cannot quite focus on. The girl turns around and smiles at me but looks quite puzzled. She is wearing a black veil of sorts and a black dress. Some sort of unknown military character chops off my right hand with a sword, but being curious as to this unexpected affront, I look down and see my hand is floating in the air, attached to the end of my arm with a yellowish silk ribbon. It “spirals” back on, almost as if I was in a gravity-free environment for a very short time. There is no blood and it is slightly transparent. I am strongly reminded of M.C. Escher’s “Rind”.

This will not do. I feel I must take the girl and myself away from here. I go to get her and hold her to my front without resistance, attempting to lift her, and as I do, I lift both her and myself (with some sort of in-dream telekinesis) from the floor of the train, hovering in a fetal position. As such, I remain in place, passing through each train’s wall as it continues on until it is then beyond us on the track (and it keeps going). We then fly to a “familiar” location. It is familiar somehow in that it seems to be the “fictional realm” of an older dream from June 1972 which involved a deer’s “ghost” in an abandoned mansion, which was located in a forest fairly close to a truncated section of railroad tracks - therefore creating some sort of odd but “stronger” relationship between two sixteen-year-apart dreams - not that common of an event - though it is possibly loosely based on the old train at Copeland Park in La Crosse (as there have been several other more intense associations along this theme, including synchronicity with the “mystery girl”, such as the one where the Mississippi River lowers to reveal an old railroad, which becomes active again). There is a vivid sense of late autumn. Also, these supposed “barriers” between in-dream locations have often occurred before, almost as if each (fictional) dream location was part of a system of “bubbles” where you could go from one to another with some sort of particular focus or “portal”.

There is a unique perspective at this time. I figure that I can leave the girl here in this environment (until she “safely wakes” into her “real” location somewhere) because there is some sort of “barrier” between it and other facets from later dreams (oddly, even though I am not lucid as such). I also feel a bit odd about leaving her, though. In the back of my mind is the very early childhood association with seeing her in a tree in a park (on my family’s real-life trip from Wisconsin to Florida) and being threatened by wild hogs. Still, she has survived, although she was “older then” (which of course is faux “dream logic”).

Of course, there is more as there usually is. My wife had taken a train to get to school, and she had (when we first started writing) sent a photo of herself feeding a deer…

Morning of September 13, 1988. Tuesday.



I am in my L-shaped apartment in the King Street boarding house. An attractive but mysterious woman in black (including black lace and a hat) is riding a black horse. She rides from due south from Tenth Street and then northwesterly into the backyard. She is actually able to ride effortlessly vertically up the side of the house, over the south outer wall, to the right of my window (from my perspective), and likely (seemingly) somehow continues over the roof and northward. In some ways, this seemed “menacing” in implication (mostly regarding consensus, though), but there was no apparent threat, especially in afterthought.

Her overall appearance, being the seeming presence and essence of my usual “mystery girl”, but a bit older here, was the same as my wife-to-be. I would make real-life contact with her in 1991. The seeming implication here was that she was south of me (in Australia) and I would make first communication with her by mail from my sister’s house, which was on the north-side of La Crosse. (The King Street house was on the south-side of La Crosse.) The black horse is seen as the “future yet to be” or the “movement of mystery” coming into my life’s path. The black horse is loosely linked to the black swan theme (relating to Australia), perhaps, though black itself is simply the unknown or again, implying the “yet to be” or “things to come”.

This is a dream I had when I was about nine or ten years old. I have remembered most of this dream because it is still vivid in my memory even fifteen years after the fact. I believe it has great personal significance for me though I am not entirely sure in what ways. I am not sure what everything in the dream means as of yet.

The most significant aspect of this dream for me was the colours. Every colour was so luminous and vivid that it still blows my mind today. I have not since had a dream so poweful in regards to colour alone like this one was.


The dream took place on a pirate ship in the middle of an unknown sea under a brilliant red sunset. The ship was a "stereotypical" pirate ship, except the wood and metal parts of which it was made were all shades of purple. It did not look as if everything had been painted purple - rather the wood was naturally that colour, as were all bits of metal and fabric that could be seen.

The water of the ocean was a deep purple-ish black, where it did not reflect the light from the setting sun anyway. The sky was a bloody red, as was the sun, which was frozen in place just above the horizon. There was only a slight breeze and no waterspray around the ship, even though all the sails where unfurled and billowing like they were being hit with a strong gail. The ship was as frozen in place upon the water as the sun was hanging in the sky. The ocean rippled softly like any calm sea and I could move around the ship freely, as I (and other DCs) were unnaffected by the time freeze that locked the sun and ship into place.

The purple pirate ship seemed devoid of all life save for me, though my dream form looked nothing like me as I appear in waking life. I wore all bright red clothing and dark red cape and I had long flowing white hair and a red hat that had a big yellow feather in it.

Anyway, the dream starts off in the setting I just described with me on the ship's deck, wielding a long silver sword, fighting a dozen or so large flying monsters that kept swooping down on me. The creatures looked like a cross between a monkey and a fish (with bat-like wings)and they were a puke green colour, except for their huge black claws with which they slashed at me as they swooped down to attack.

I wasn't the greatest sword fighter and I had no shield, but somehow I cut a few of the monsters down. As the carcasses landed on the ship's deck they oozed a disgusting blackish fluid before burning up in a blue flame and dissapearing. The carcass dissapeared but the ooze remained and it made it harder to fight the flying monsters because I kept slipping on the stuff!

I cannot remember now how exactly I defeated the monsters but I think some flew away before I could kill them. I have always though it was interesting, though I do not know the significance, that during the entire fight I faced the bow (front) of the ship. At no time did I turn around to face the stern (back) of the ship, even when dodging or attacking, and neither did any of the monsters land on any part of the ship while they were alive. The creatures seemed to want to avoid making contact with the ship as much as they avoided my swinging sword.

When the last was dead (and the ones that escaped were out of sight) I took a moment to catch my breath (still facing the bow) and heard a soft laugh from behind me. I dropped my sword in surprise, turned around and there was a man with long black hair standing in the doorway that lead to the lower levels of the ship. He was very handsome, kind of pale and dressed in black velvet, Victorian style fashion. Up until this point I thought that I was alone on the ship.

Despite the man's vampire-like appearance I sensed no hostility from him and he just smiled at me. We did not speak to each other but there was a warm, friendly feeling eminating from him and all the worry and pain from my fight with the flying monsters was forgotten. I vividly remember the handsome man's green eyes, which sparkled like emeralds and made my heart skip. I only got to gaze at him briefly however because the dream ended there.

Morning of September 21, 1986. Sunday.



This is a shorter summary. My dream was much longer than it seems by this - but a lot of the time was mostly regarding some of the same visual aspects and conversations not quite recalled (seemingly in another language at times).

I am on an unknown island, probably near Indonesia. I have no clue to what island it is as it seems very small and isolated from the rest of the world. I am not quite sure if my companion and I had been in the past and are later in the present in my dream, or started out in the present and came back to the location in the future.

My male companion is somewhat like a composite of a Scotland Yard character and an archaeologist. He seems dressed mostly as a businessman at times. We find an isolated village that people said did not exist (supposedly being a legend). My dream is extraordinarily vivid but not lucid. We find a village where we make friends with three younger male characters. They have food served to us in mottled wooden bowels (I believe) and we become good friends. They are mostly spending time involved in rituals to do with fire and trying to call forth spirits.

Because my dream is more vivid, the atmosphere is very intense in the semidarkness. The floor is of dirt but there are grass mats in a few locations. The random flickers of the fire eerily light up the ceiling within the one-room building. I would guess their ages to only be around twenty or so.

We eventually leave the village and they seem somewhat sad. My companion and I go to a beach-like area. We seem to travel through time while just standing in one area near the ocean - into at least their future (but again, not sure if our future or our present). We go back to the hut and the same three men are there but seemingly ninety years old or more. They are still doing the same rituals in the smokey scene. They seem amazingly happy to see us and nod their heads lightly. A lot of emotion unfolds in this dream, a little more than many others of this time, and I had labelled it as a “breakthrough dream”. It colored my mood for about a week in a positive way, somehow.

I had this dream the evening (possibly into the next day) after reading a lot of other people’s dreams in a hardcover book. There was something on “breakthrough dreams” that connected with me somehow at the time. I do not remember the book title and did not write about the book itself. I have included the link for an older interesting but nearly 300-page PDF document that was based on some of what I read, though I do not agree with the work one-hundred percent by any stretch, especially now, but I used to really enjoy such works, mostly in the 1980s: http://elk.library.ubc.ca/handle/2429/26374

Morning of August 30, 1986. Saturday.



I am on the front roof (that goes out over the front porch) of my King Street apartment with an unknown dark-haired female (”mystery girl” who was literally and visually precognitive of my wife-to-be since early childhood) under a sheet. It seems to be late morning. Eventually, there is a strong wind and it pulls us into the air, with a very strange sensation moving through my body, similar to when I am “too close” to the edge of a roof or cliff in real life but the feeling is augmented. The “flight” and “fall” transforms into a natural waking mechanism though without the usual hypnic jerk.

Dreaming about anything related to a bed or sleep in most cases is just that, an obvious dream sign of the dream itself (and as is typical with any other native dream metaphor, with no “interpretation”), especially if the bed or bedding is in a different location than real life (though, even though it is very common, something I rarely catch in my own dreams as a possible trigger for lucidity, though this dream is very vivid). Being on a roof is also relative to a particular “band” of the dream state itself regarding a transitory state of consciousness (just on the threshold of the waking state). This is basically just a variation on the falling waking mechanism other than the visually precognitive reminder of my wife-to-be. Still, it is also a clever play on “magic carpet ride”, yet another flying symbol and analogous to the dream state itself. First and foremost, dreams are about dreaming and waking, instilled with precognitive and foreshadowing layers to prepare for what is to come (both immediate waking and potential elements yet to be). Wind relates to both the passage of time and long-term precognition.

Morning of June 2, 1986. Monday.

Dream #: 7,105-02. Reading time: 45 sec.



I am walking around in a strange, unfamiliar location that seems almost like Medieval times in some ways even though it is supposedly in the distant future. A boy I know, Scott R, is there and other people are nearby.

Eventually, when I look up, I see a gigantic spaceship making a tremendous mechanical noise as it “swims” through the sky. It is like a giant robotic tadpole, much larger than a 747, somehow staying up with no signs of wings, rotaries, or any other mechanisms. It has at least four sections that seem to counterbalance each side-to-side unit as its forms zigzag. It makes a tremendous amount of noise as it moves, possibly indicating rust and mechanical stress. I do not know what to think, but it causes a sense of awe and interest. Later, I float about above various stairwells in public areas.

Over time, while seemingly incorporeal, I have impressions of moving into people (coalescence) who are sitting near the bottom steps of flights of stairs. There is a wondrous essence of love. Everyone is smiling, but I do not think they are aware of me.

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This event from the 1980s was just one more experience that all but abolished my faith in human credibility (as to why most people remain in denial regarding the paranormal, which, as I have stated, I consider more bizarre than the paranormal itself - or perhaps “paranormal” is not the right word in this case as it covers many things regarding the “unexplained” - many people seemingly completely lack the ability to either accept or relate to it - which seems overly “wrong” somehow, especially at my age now).

In the morning of this day, I continue to have false awakenings from a few dreams and am focused on a section of the east wall of my King Street apartment when I lived in the smaller L-shaped room where the pinhead’s closet had a blocked-off doorway westerly to my room. There was a strange, shiny part of the wall whereby there were very odd shadowy figures I couldn’t quite account for. It gave the impression of both miniature demonic human-like forms and wayward fairies. The vividness of this perception was astounding. I couldn’t work out what I was looking at and later thought the dream was related to some sort of implied portal in the wall. Still, it created the impression of a reflection from somewhere else, and there was also a sort of reddish hue in some areas. The detail was quite precise and did not change in orientation. This was the only time to that point that I had such a vivid dream of focusing on the east wall and seeing the weird shiny seeming reflection from elsewhere. It almost reminded me of Hot Stuff the devil in an enchanted forest scene with a plane flying above.

That evening, in real life, I walked to the north-side of La Crosse. I stopped at sister Marilyn’s house. She wanted me to get something for her at the store, so I walked north, then west down Gillette Street. It was the night that the garbage was set out on the boulevards. I passed near a house a few houses east from the IGA store (“Skogen’s” at the time) and noticed an object sitting freely atop the garbage can on a smaller box. Looking at it, in the dark, I saw it was a Pink Floyd “The Wall” mirror, which I had never seen one of before. I decided to take it home, as it was in seeming good condition.

The next morning - you guessed it - the dream repeated - except it wasn’t a dream this time. I had absentmindedly placed the mirror on my desk near the south window whereby the reflection on the wall was identical to the precognitive dream of the day before. This really baffled me, even considering the thousands of similar experiences I had already had. It almost made me feel “dislocated in time”. Included here is the photo of the same mirror as what I had.

As usual, about paranormal dreams with validated follow-ups such as this, there are several layers, with at least one layer being almost like a “cosmic jester” at work. In this case, it was related directly to the wall in my apartment as well as the movie “The Wall” (that I hadn’t even seen). In addition to visually exact precognition (which couldn’t possibly be coincidental in any way), there was the additional feeling of remote-viewing, yet somehow “displaced” in time - yet another variation of the unexplained.

One more thing - I didn’t like the song “The Wall” at all (in fact disliked it quite a bit and often made fun of it), because they sang “We don’t need no education” - which implied that they did need education - because they were using a double negative…

Morning of March 10, 1986. Monday.



There is something found in a special small cardboard box covered with fabric, like the type some wristwatches are purchased in. It seems to have been hidden in an additional compartment inside. I seem to be a different character, seemingly a young version of Ray Milland, also having his voice when I speak, this being before or during his death in reality, though I had not seen any of his movies for some time. This seems important, as although my dream does not precisely reflect the plot of any movie he was in, it does have similarities and some of the same mood throughout to the movie “X: The Man with the X-ray Eyes” from 1963.

The box contains a special lens. It allows the person who looks through it to “see forever” and has different ways of displaying and revealing the otherwise unseen, not always consistent.

As the other character, I become addicted to this new way of viewing the world. Over time, my eye begins to bleed. I have similar opportunities as “X” (from the Ray Milland movie) in seeing through things, as well as having the telescopic perspective. At one point, I hear a seemingly ominous line from my character that goes, “when I look through the lens of evil, I can see myself looking back” and this seems to be the case. I look through the lens, and in the supposed far distance, is a scene of me sitting on a bed and looking back at me through the same lens, like some sort of distant mirror-like reflection. This seems to be some sort of extreme point, where the lens is now functioning in a different way.

In reality of course, because the world is a sphere, seeing everything on the planet would not be possible and would be cut off at the horizon (more so, there would be no potential for a distant mirror-like reflection). The lens seems to bend light in a way where you can see all the way around the planet and back in either perspective. (There is also a point earlier where I see myself looking through the lens, but from the back. This was an influence from a scene of the same concept from the original “Land of the Lost” television series.) I can also see into distant space, infinitely.

Eventually, my eyes become larger and bleed more, being very bloodshot, though one eye is much worse, implying some sort of side effect, as I use it more for the lens. Over time, I grow scales on my arms and legs and eventually gills on my neck. In my dream’s last scene, I become a mooneye fish and do one last vertical leap from the water’s surface. The fish’s eye is also bleeding, seen from a distance, followed by a dramatic zooming in as if from a movie.

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Ray Milland died on this tenth of March, after my dream. Additionally, my mother developed a severe eye infection where one eye looked extremely bloodshot (and she had never had such an infection before). Because I wrote this dream out as a short story after I woke, it later seemed very strange for my mother to read it when one of the lines read “the eye looked awful”, followed by other related details. I felt embarrassingly inconsiderate (though I had written it out prior to her condition). Additionally, I had caught a mooneye fish later, which is a type of fish I rarely ever caught.

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Night of August 17, 1985. Saturday.



This was probably one of my most common dream themes during certain time periods as a young adult. It usually involves either erupting volcanoes or meteor showers. I would say the volcanoes are a bit more common.

I would not call them nightmares for the most part (depending on the particular dream of course). They are more like some sort of meandering exercise in futility while under a sort of odd stress - yet sometimes turn out very nice, actually. The usual idea is, volcanoes are “approaching” (or rather more and more are growing and becoming active) and it is that way from north to south and no way to escape except by going, say west or east as fast and as far as possible, with no option to go back. Somehow, I and others manage to do this (do not ask how we get across the ocean, no logic in that, really, as this is not usually the type of dream I perform the act of running over the water in as is common in other dreams).

There is some sort of idea that when we go all the way around the world and come back from the other side, the volcanoes will be cooled off or inactive by that point. I used to think this type of dream was fairly common with most people, but really have not read about it that much. It is almost humorous in its implication if not seemingly futile regarding some scenes.

Strangely, there is almost always a group or two of people who believe that going towards the danger is somehow going to be better than running away, something to do with getting to where the danger has “already been” (but also usually still there or very close-by, to be honest), which is similar to the logic of going all the way around the world and coming back from the other side but perceived as far more risky even in the dream. I am not quite sure how it would be done, and do not recall dreams that revealed what happened to these people with alternate views.

Sometimes, the world is “safe” again, but mostly barren. Other times there is an uneasy feeling that the danger is growing in both directions and we may eventually reach where it is approaching from the opposite direction and be caught in the middle (which is often only related to fires). In one dream, with meteors, the large meteorites (all bigger than basketballs) rolled along the ground for a considerable distance, which of course would not happen in reality.

In some versions there is a weird notion of whether to run straight away or to go at some sort of angle, say forty-five degrees, due to “covering more distance”, which of course, in this case, is a ridiculous concept. Covering more distance does not equate to getting farther away in a continuous straight direction. You might as well run horizontal to the line of destruction using that logic, until it reaches you. This is similar to the idea of running in a zigzagging pattern to escape a tyrannosaurus in a few childhood dreams.

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.

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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 September 11, 1983. Sunday.



This is one of several very vivid (but non-lucid) dreams that seemed to reflect aspects of foreshadowing regarding 9-11. Dreams of this type (including one similar to this one) seemed to start in 1977, where the main patterns of a more precise nature regarding my future wife (especially regarding her “conquering” of Susan R, the “other”) were already in play, so to speak.

My dream starts out where I am in a large wheat field. I seem to be in a fairly good mood and am feeling relaxed. However, there is a sense of impending disaster for some reason. Looking back towards the horizon (I am not sure of directional orientation - if I went by my Cubitis bedroom and in-dream focus, it would be mostly to the northeast), I see a low-flying airplane. There are two skyscrapers in the distance (but no other more discernible buildings or landmarks). The airplane is heading directly for one of the skyscrapers, the one on my right. Knowing it will probably crash (seemingly on purpose) and even though it is not that close to where I am, I start running west.

As I run west, I seem to feel myself either shrinking or at least changing in perspective in a very bizarre way. I suddenly seem to be running through some sort of metallic tunnel which is like an awareness of running inside of a “giant computer” with various printed circuits on floor, walls, and ceiling. Behind me is an approaching energy that I know will destroy me and anyone else in the world or at least in the region. It makes a sort of sizzling sound as it gets closer and closer to me. In the distance, at the end of this “hall”, I see a forest and hope I will reach it.

I perceive a phrase somewhat dramatically, “That’s it, that’s all, it’s everything gone!” almost like a line from poetry. I awake at this time as the sizzling gets louder behind me and I feel an intense heat. I have a sense that this giant hall has something to do with people communicating by computer on a global scale, but that the airplane has triggered the end of all the circuits or some such through an increasingly destructive explosion. This was a typical composite precognitive event. It was quite some time until I was actually “inside” computers relative to being able to easily manipulate machine language code (through a self-learning process and realizing it was all mostly “conditional jumps” and little else) until I went on to something else, as I then took on the perspective that computer technology was at least half-myth and most of what programmers claimed was false, which of course is as with pretty much everything else.

This dream appears to have a legitimate and typical precognitive marker. Even though the airplane crashing into the skyscraper (tower) is the waking component in this case, it is also a September 11th dream and has other legitimate associations with terror such as when I cry out “That’s it, that’s all, it’s everything gone!” This causes me to ponder what is really going on in other levels of collective consciousness over any given longer time period. While it is true that the skyscraper as the tower here is my emergent consciousness and the airplane the projection of my dream self in being “stopped” during the waking transition, there is more to it, primarily literal. I run through the tunnel which is also the waking conduit (more accessible here than the tower), even more so as it looks like a circuit-board on all four sides (two walls, ceiling, and floor), the circuit-board being a model of the human brain, here upsized as my dream self seems downsized, almost shrunken.

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.

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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.

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