memorable

Morning of October 4, 1982. Monday.



I am seemingly traveling on my own, heading south to an uncertain destination. There are a lot of isolated areas with a lot of shrubs, mostly. There are some back roads I follow here and there. Vaguely, I am trying to remember if I should be getting to work and what day it is.

I discover an unusual farmhouse behind a cluster of higher shrubs. It looks abandoned. Just south of that are a few more houses, but more modern-looking. They still seem a bit unmaintained in some ways or perhaps not yet completed. A man of about forty is on a smaller tractor mower in the backyard of one larger property. I ignore him at first.

I investigate the farmhouse, going inside through a door hanging from one hinge at an angle. There are also piles of wood blocking some other areas. There is sort of a damp smell and a desolate mood at first. Not much happens. I look around and notice that the decor is fairly unusual, but I am not sure why.

Finally, I go into a room that has a book on a desk but the paper is unusual, somewhat felt-like, and the ink is a bit fuzzy. There is an old photograph of a beautiful girl that lived in the house (late 1940s?) before it was abandoned due to a “natural disaster”. Looking around, it is possible that the disaster was a flood, as some features seem to relate to water somehow, as perhaps reminiscent of something you would see on an old ship. There is some sort of lantern or old-fashioned kerosene lamp but it has a different design somehow.

Looking at the book, which seems to be a diary, I discover, through images and seemingly discerning some of the writing, that the girl had a pet otter that she really cared for. I do not think that she had it in a cage. I sense a strange sadness at the idea of someone leaving their home after a seeming longer history in the region and wonder what had happened to them.

Later, a couple other people are in their yard. One may be the man I saw on the lawn mower. He tells me that the whole area had been under water until fairly recently. He mentions that the farmhouse was there long before the new houses were built south of it.

It dawns on me that the girl and her parents were some sort of aquatic human-like creatures (but mostly human in appearance) and that the “natural disaster” was not a flood, but the waters receding so that they had to leave their home to go to a river or lake somewhere to get away from land-dwelling humans, especially. Thus it turns out that this was one of those intriguing endings (and a very similar mood and awareness) that seemed to have intense sarcasm for “every man” along similar lines as “I’m Eager Beaver” and “The Four-Fanged Snake of Swamp Garden”, two of which I have already posted.

Morning of April 3, 1982. Saturday.



I am in La Crosse, Wisconsin on the south side of town and west of the main library. There are a number of other people around, mostly unknown. There is a tornado coming in our direction (from the southwest), or so it seems for several minutes. I can hear the train-like rumbling sounds (like with a real tornado but which may be caused by real environmental noise such as louder traffic while sleeping). I am with some friends and we and the other people are eventually running everywhere, though mostly north.

All of a sudden, there is a strange screeching sound (again, possibly caused by real-life environmental sounds intruding into my dream without waking me, such as a vehicle’s brakes squealing). We look back and it turns out to have been an enormous caterpillar spinning a cocoon and was not a tornado. Everything is quiet now that the caterpillar has entered this stage and is vertically oriented within the giant cocoon, apparently sleeping and not threatening in any way. Additionally, I get the impression that it was not actually chasing us. We just happened to originally be in the area it was coincidentally moving towards during the faux chase. Eventually, I become semi-lucid and personally indulge in sensual pleasures in an offset scenario until I choose to wake.

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Resupplemented for a clearer and more detailed explanation on Saturday, 2 December 2017.

There are really two levels to this dream, a natural (biological) ordinary meaning and a spiritual meaning if one is so inclined. On the natural level, a tornado is a factor of RAS and inner ear dynamics as precursory waking symbolism, an extreme augmentation analogous to potential dizziness in real life. In this case, that aspect is validated by a second inner ear dynamic, the potential butterfly flight symbol, which is “frozen” and thus as a result, triggering lucidity against the subdued RAS factor (similar to the “frozen” bird silhouettes in more recent apex lucidity dreams). On one level of course, this dream was at least partly influenced by “Mothra” (a 1961 movie).

Spiritually, tornadoes represent the powerful bottom half of the Merkaba (even in my earliest childhood dreams) and, due to the “raw force” of a tornado, relate to personal dream state alchemy. (In certain trance states of deep meditation, I vividly experience the Merkaba by touching my wife Zsuzsanna on the shoulder, the Merkaba of which appears as two blue tornadoes uniting, rotating in opposite directions, with extraordinarily vivid impressions which I can only describe as seeing hundreds of different wedding ceremonies of different cultures and eras.) The transition from tornado to caterpillar-in-cocoon implies a waiting stage prior to changing into a butterfly (a type of personal ascension or implying the state of readiness for meeting my “dream girl” in real life).

Susan R (the only person other than Zsuzsanna of whom I could ever sense as existing on other levels) and Zsuzsanna (before I knew she was a real person) drew identical vertically-oriented anthropomorphic caterpillars in a top hat (as if one had been traced over the other with even the same stray line) as a part of an otherwise dissimilar story. (One of my relatives was scared and angered by seeing this as most ordinary people do not like the unexplained, though over time, changed their way of thinking and was eventually glad I had found my “dream girl” after so many precise clues over so many years.)

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“The caterpillar makes an appearance in a few other places outside ‘Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland’, such as 'American McGee’s Alice’ and the novel 'The Looking-Glass Wars’; in both of these spin-offs he plays the role of an oracle.”

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Morning of March 5, 1982. Friday.

Dream #: 5,555-01. Reading time (optimized): 2 min.



In my dream, I enter a building in the region I live in real life that is first like a shopping mall in La Crosse. Eventually, I am at a party, though I feel out of place as I do not drink in real life. (Important note: In this instance, my dream self has this specific knowledge of my waking-life identity, but in other dreams, it does not. With that differing status, I might drink as a result. This factor disproves the existence of the subconscious.) There is also a vague awareness of being in the basement of a church or cathedral.

The only person I recognize is John Belushi. He approaches me without invitation and casually talks about his death. He tells me death is like dreaming at first before moving on. As he talks, my dream becomes vivified, but not to the point where I am consciously aware I am dreaming at a higher level. He is wearing a dark suit that changes at times, from a shimmery material to duller and back again. He is drinking a pinkish drink from a small cocktail glass.

I am aware the people at this party are either in the casual process of dying or are living people sleeping, all in the same dreaming location (enigmatic space). A couple of times, John Belushi walks away to talk to someone else, but they ignore him, so he walks back to me. I start thinking that maybe it is not me he is talking to, but someone whom he sees as someone else, perhaps a friend, and I am somehow in the same location but unseen.

After leaving the building, I look back and notice a big white bat above it, flying in a circle. The structure now looks like a foreign mausoleum, though also like a miniature cathedral. The motions of the bat remind me of stop-motion animation as in “Jason and the Argonauts” from 1963 (a recurring dream distortion since childhood). I vaguely perceive the white bat only represents death in this dream because I had read about it in a so-called dream dictionary. (I do not believe in dream interpretation in the way others propagate this misconception.)

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Many people might call this dream precognitive (so I have included the label), but the content indicates it was telepathic, as John Belushi’s death occurred about the same time as my dream. I was not a fan and had not seen his movies. I had no way of knowing his status and held no recent thoughts of him. This dream is the only one in which he ever appeared.

My dream is principally literal co-occurrence with an event I could not have known about consciously.

Humanity has no viable explanations for experiences of this nature. Their typical response is with ignorance, denial, derision, and deceit no matter how much evidence is to the contrary. That sums it up for humanity’s ultimate failure to understand either the nature of enigmatic space or what dreams are.

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Morning of November 29, 1981. Sunday.



I am back in the living room in Cubitis, more in the southwestern area of the larger room. It seems to be “isolated” somehow and I am perhaps the only one in the entire region. There is a very vivid awareness of the type which I would label as a type of “faux lucidity”, as, even though I am fully, consciously aware and it is so vivid, I am not certain of the nature of the “level” of my dream (regarding the particular “eerie” band of consciousness), and so see it as a potential aspect of really being fully awake at the time - it is an unusual state of knowing you are dreaming, yet still thinking you are somewhat conscious in an actual place with eyes open - a bit hard to explain, I think.

In one area to the south, near the left; the narrower section of wall at the end of the hallway (that was to the right of the kitchenette entrance though the layout is distorted), I see a large shadow slowly and very smoothly sweep across that area on the wall. It is shaped like a bird, seemingly a raven. There is an unusual sense of timelessness. This exact same theme (and very similar imagery) repeated later on (a few months later), but seemed to occur at an open construction site late at night in Wisconsin rather than my old Florida home as here.

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Over time, this seemed to create the phrase within my mind - “time is raven-winged”, (a possible play on “time flies” though also in the context of time being a “scavenger”).

This may sound negative, but we (my wife Zsuzsanna and our two oldest children at the time) had a positive enriching experience with helping an injured raven in real life years later.

The bird shadow symbol (usually rendered as being in flight), sometimes “sweeping” though sometimes falling, which primarily represents the waking point itself, has been common in a number of my waking transitions since early childhood. “Frozen” and motionless bird shadows with no source projected onto a stage used as a living space by a female tulpa was an extremely vivid scene in a dream of recent apex lucidity of the type of augmented awareness that almost surpasses real life perception. When your mind is able to freeze the birds in flight rendering to where only the hovering shadows are projected, that is near-ultimate dream control.

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Morning of October 27, 1981. Tuesday.



I find myself wandering through an area near a fictitious outdoor café in Arcadia, Florida, on West Oak Street, near the Tree of Knowledge. The sidewalk is over twice the width it is in reality. It seems to be late afternoon even though an unlikely mist seems to rise from the ground at one point (but does not rise above my waist). (Mist such as this is a dream state indicator, a factor of the dream state itself.)

I begin to cheerfully interact with schoolmates and four of us sit down at a small round table sheltered under an umbrella. Eventually, our waiter approaches. He turns out to be Roosevelt (a former classmate and friend), but he is walking slowly from the south with his arms horizontally up in front of him as if mocking the sleepwalker stereotype (as seen on “The Honeymooners” for example), with his eyes rolled up so that only the whites of his eyes are visible. He is now apparently a zombie (the original meaning, not the popular modern misuse of the word). There is no threat, only seeming pretense. The situation seems rather comedic and I sense we are all being filmed, though I feel that Roosevelt is more aware of the supposed script. (Roosevelt is this dream’s personified preconscious. He is acting like a “zombie” or sleepwalker to make my dream self aware that I am dreaming, although this often does not work as my non-lucid subconscious self does not have viable synaptic gating to perceive my conscious self identity as in waking life. This factor has been rendered in the majority of my non-lucid dreams, which is unrelated to the myth of “interpretation”.)

Time passes, and more and more people apparently become zombies, who mostly roll their eyes up and mainly just walk around slowly with their arms stretched out in front of them like sleepwalkers, not any sort of threat at any point. I notice that the whole town of Arcadia has taken on the look of Dodge City as it appears in the “Gunsmoke” television series, though more like an isolated ghost town (which has occurred as a setting in other dreams).



In my dream’s final segment, I vividly hear nails being pulled from wood and thin boards being pulled apart with crowbars and I see that all the large old wooden buildings were only facades over the “real” commercial buildings, the facades now all being taken down, as the movie’s filming has apparently ended. All the “zombies” are seen to be actors in a new comedic movie featuring Arcadia as a tourist attraction inhabited by bumbling zombies. Behind another series of wooden facades (which are also being taken down), I see Lake Katherine (which is incorrectly rendered as being just north of Oak Street and the Tree of Knowledge). A single motor skiff moves through the water, being steered by an unknown cheerful male of perhaps thirty, who turns his boat to go right of my viewpoint (waking factor orientation). I feel a strong and clear sense of joy and happiness and the clear awareness of the sun rising and birds singing as my dream self focuses on the wakes left by the boat, and I think “wakes” as I am waking (which has happened in a number of other dreams, which of course is very amusing waking process autosymbolism in a dream that reflects the dream state itself in every way imaginable, including the facades being taken down; autosymbolism for the start of the final waking process and the breaking dawn waking autosymbolism; the end of the illusory dream state).

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Morning of June 23, 1981. Tuesday.

Dream #: 5,300-02. Reading time: 50 sec.



I am in the Chipmunk Coulee region in Wisconsin, where I have not lived since I was about five years of age. I am in a clearing just outside a wooded area on a hill. It seems isolated, peaceful, and beautiful. I am unaware of anyone else.

Eventually, it is nighttime. I see a big bright greenish-yellow light that I cannot identify. At first, I think it may be a spacecraft. As it comes closer, I see it is a giant firefly, about the size of a small airplane. It does not seem to be a threat, though there is a sense of puzzlement and wonder.

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[projected transitional vestibular system correlation]

This event type, though always different in each sleep cycle, is a result of projected anticipation of the waking process itself and stems from the correlation of the imaginary physicality of the dream state with my legitimate physicality and orientation.

Yellow (especially as light) is a factor of emerging consciousness associated with sunrise, often only discernible in the final stage of a dream.

I anticipate the dream state as being unlike waking life. The result of my thought creates a UFO, but it resolves as the increasing mental energy of my emerging consciousness. The result is a positive and wondrous association.

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Morning of November 9, 1980. Sunday.



This was a very long movie-like dream where I still played the main role. As such, I did not seem to be threatened at any point even though the basis is the end of modern civilization (which actually seems like a very positive thing in my dream in my own experiences), yet also a dawn of a seemingly better way of life. Several years after my dream, I enjoyed a song that came out with the same title as my original dream records, also called “Seeds of Life” - by Jan Hammer and by Chris Thompson, one of my favorite vocalists after Tony Carey.

I somehow gain access to a way to have special seeds that grow quickly - almost like a “Jack in the Beanstalk” type connection (which seem to come to me by way of some sort of “divine intervention” so to speak), but more related to a type of world change. Sometime after this I grew fond of a song with the lyrics “here, here are the seeds”, which had a strong influence on my ideas at one point. I believe it was from an album called “Wind Woman”, but I can find no information on the Internet about it. In fact, there are a few albums that I really enjoyed and listened to a lot that I can find little or no information about, which is typical, really.

Anyhow, wherever I throw a handful of seeds, large vines grow up and around buildings, and the city grows more and more jungle-like. After a time, many people start to focus on the negative implications rather than the concept of having so much food and additional shelter.

I am in my old high school environment (in a small trailer, which was called a “portable” classroom) and eventually, dinosaurs somehow come about and walk through the new jungles. There are times when I clearly see the vines growing fairly quickly and am even “saved” by such an event when rapidly growing trees push aside people that are after me.

At one point, I am arrested for all the trouble the seeds have caused (as I am the one who had put them everywhere). However, as I am in the police car, I “hear” a voice say “finish your job”, which is actually more like “feeling the shape of the words” rather than hearing the audio, similar to telepathy. I throw the seeds I have left, which are almost egg-like in shape and size. From there, the car is stopped by crashing into a tree that grows through the middle of the road. I escape from there. Eventually I am able to live high in the jungle branches and enjoy the view.

Night of September 13, 1980. Saturday. (Wife’s birthday prior to contact.)



Yes, I know. Not a very good title (but it is the original Journal title after all), but Oceania was the “real"name, which is quite interestingly what Australia is a part of in real life - though this Oceania was an underwater world that was also deep underground (I did not at all associate it with Australia in my dream). Regardless of the adult nature of my dream and the "mystery girl” associations, as well as the amazing “Little-Nemo-like” landscapes, I am fairly certain most of it was loosely influenced by shows I had not seen for several years; mainly “Sigmund and the Sea Monsters” and “Land of the Lost”.

That is certain regarding “Land of the Lost”, because the first part of my dream was almost like a long parody of the opening to the first season, with even poorer “special effects”. It was fun, though, and I am actually surprised that I did not laugh myself awake. I was in a boat that was seemingly too small and ended up going over a waterfall, through a tunnel, and into “another world”, all the while making “ooh” and “aah” sounds that came off as a bit “fake”. This world, however, was fully oceanic, with all of the buildings and inventions of that world specifically appearing to be greatly influenced by the depths of the ocean, such as most of the buildings seemingly formed by arrangements of giant seashells and coral arrangements. (A relief it was, though, without any “shellevision” or barking lobsters).

My dream is very epic with long, beautiful scenes, but there is no actual interesting plot to tell anyone about. A dark-haired girl, the (main) princess of that world, shows me around. She is not mermaid-like or anything (in that she appears fully human) but can breathe water in the manner all the other inhabitants can, and I am somehow able to breathe underwater for the duration, with no concern at all about how unusual that would be in reality. She wears primarily black, but with various jewels covering much of the material, as well as a mostly black tiara with smaller jewels somewhat ruby-like, looking similar to a variation of a black swan tiara (where two swans that are closer face each other and imply a heart).

The main entrance and exit (relating to surface world access) seems to be a long tunnel with a large river flowing through, probably about ten feet up from the water’s surface. It seems to be light enough to travel fairly safely, but with no sign of a light source. Odd, though, as it is seemingly below (or implied as such) the state of Wisconsin rather than being anywhere near the ocean.

The ending is very dramatic. I am given a parade upon leaving that world (similar in style to the fuss over Little Nemo). I may be leaving because my ability to breathe water will wear off at a later stage.

This is one of the hundreds of dreams where number twenty-two comes in; in this case, as two giant swans (swaying in a way that strongly reminds me of serpents) as, curiously, the ending theme from “The Blue Lagoon” plays in the background as the fancy parade moves along slowly and interestingly. There is an unusual composite emotion of great happiness and near melancholy at the same time. (In real life, years later, I actually did send my yet-to-be wife a large leaf painted with two swans on it.) This is a repeat of a scene from a childhood dream where “stand-in” archetype Brenda W was involved and the parade had two snakes (that impossibly crawled upright as snakes did in my childhood dreams - like a “standing” letter “S”). There were a lot of amazing transitions that “taught” me, quite extensively over half a lifetime, how Brenda W represented my unknown wife at the time.

This was the longest and most colorful dream of the night. It was on my wife’s birthday (long before our first contact), and it involved me going “down under” (even using the name “Oceania”) to see the dark-haired, green-eyed “mystery girl”. This of course, is nothing compared to the far more precise journey details since earliest memory.

Morning of March 15, 1980. Saturday.



My original dream record was entitled “Invasion of the Blue Doughnuts”, but I am not sure if this new title is that much better…

This was a very long dream with many scenes, like an actual “epic” by description, which are not as common as other types, I think.

My dream begins in my sister’s backyard very late at night. Several other people, mostly neighbors and local passersby, are in the alley. We end up watching strange, small, blue torus-like forms “raining” slowly from the dark sky. It seems beautiful at first. They seem just the right size to wear as a ring. However, they eventually seem to be some sort of dangerous alien life form, like a sort of doughnut-shaped worm or strange “finger-eating” mollusc - and coming from an asteroid orbiting close to Earth. They are able to “eat” people, apparently with their mouth being the inner region of the torus, I think, but they attack in large “swarms” or “flocks”. They are all over the ground eventually. I am never directly in danger, but it is an eerie event. People spend time meeting at storefront areas and talk about what should be done. The government does not seem that active at all in what should be done.

Other creatures, which seem like some sort of tiny yellowish ants (so tiny as to be almost microscopic), are able to rapidly eat a person (from the feet up only, it seems - or at least in an upwards direction), so that it looks like the person is quickly sinking into the ground. This is rather disturbing to many of the residents who are planning to leave town.

Later, I am walking through a strange area where more creatures have taken over. There are very large snails, about the size of a cat. They seem to have almost human-like “faces”, but clown-like and rather goofy-looking. There are also odd crab-like creatures with “human eyes”. I do not feel that threatened or unsafe at this point, which is verified by my needing to resist the urge to laugh out loud and attract a different creature that may be in the area. There are puddles of water everywhere as if it had rained recently.

After a lot of different random adventures and narrow escapes, it seems the human race is “doomed”. I am at a campsite with a few friends, one of them possibly Tina L and another Toby T (and possibly Steve J). In the distance, along the horizon, is a series of huge, red, and slowly moving (or “crawling” like a slug) “monoliths”, creating a sort of echoing rumbling “moan”, which are actually a massive life-form about the size of a skyscraper and which are some kind of enormous mollusc. The sun is setting and they move over the distant landscape like a uniform series of slowly moving upright reddish dominoes…their number seeming almost endless. In the back of my mind, it vaguely creates the association or essence of a slowly moving assembly line in a factory. These are how our “last days” will be spent, but there a still a sense of peace somehow.

Night of December 12, 1969. Friday.



This dream seemed to last all night into the next morning but with several false awakenings. Regardless of it being somewhat nightmarish, it is one of my favorites from childhood. This was yet another dream where Pepto-Bismol pink dominated some aspects of the dream elements. It also involves another early attempt at tulpa creation (as with the “Cobra in the Hayloft” dream). This is still the original dream journal title from age eight and the first version of this dream theme as far as I know.

In an early part of the dream, my pillow seems to have moving imagery on it somewhat like a television screen. There is a scene with the “MGM lion” logo roaring (as at the beginning of a movie) except that the lion has been replaced by a triceratops. (It is possible that the small portable heater had been on a few times, which sometimes made a rattling noise and provided a slight glow in the room.)

Over time, I develop a very intense, clear, and focused lucidity and am able to control the somewhat phosphorescent images on the pillow. Once I gain more faith and expectation, I also gain a sense of being able to communicate with the white family cat, Snowball, or at least get her to understand my ideas somehow. The cat had been in the room throughout the dream; in reality as well, I think.

Throughout the night, seemingly, there are different “games” played with the imagery on the pillow. One amusing scene involves the word “dots” appearing on my pillow several times, like a grid-like pattern (after I had watched actual polka dots for a time). As I put more intent into the manifestation, the words rotate and then say “stop” like some sort of “tingly warning”. Another image that flows across the pillow is a sequence of letter Zs, in a snake-like fashion. It is similar to watching projected images from a slide projector moving about on the surface of the pillow (and part of the sheet at times).

I also seem aware of a loud snoring (on and off) over the few hours that the dream seems to last. I used to think it was my father (and one story I wrote based on the dream did imply that), but my father’s room was in another part of the house at the other end beyond the hallway and would not have been that loud, I do not think. It was either my own or solely in-dream, but certainly seemed vivid and made the dinosaur’s sounds seem more threatening somehow, through the false awakenings - yet at the same time was a reassurance at one level of thought in a particular liminal state at random times.

“Look Snowball, I can make a monster appear,” I say with confidence (and again feel the in-dream “tingling”). Instead of the imagery appearing on the pillow, a “real” full-sized triceratops appears standing near my bedside, facing east (where my head is). (The bed is along the south wall, head at the southeast corner at the time, both in the dream and in reality. The bed had occupied several different locations in the room during the time I lived there. This particular setup was the farthest from all the large jalousie windows during the winter.) The triceratops makes a “snoring growling” sound, very vivid and convincing, but mostly just remains in the same standing position as if I might still have some level of control over it. There is an eerie glow of Pepto-Bismol pink from it (which does not fully light up the room). The cat seems a bit nervous but does not run off.

I seem to shift into another state and realize it was only a very vivid and lucid dream with the appearance of the dinosaur seeming like part of a false awakening (though I was lucid dreaming, I had a partial sense I might be partly awake and watching hypnagogic events projected onto the pillow as was sometimes the case in reality). I think about getting back into the same state, because it was quite intriguing. However, the dream eventually takes on a lesser vividness and my lucidity lowers as well. In the last section, the dream is non-lucid. I am out of my bedroom and in a sleeping bag on the living room floor (southwest area of the room), apparently having been placed here by my mother either due to a monster being in my room or being “safer” there for some other reason. From here, the triceratops appears again (but is a darker mossy green, not pink) and I sense it is getting closer to my face as I slowly wake.

Morning of November 22, 1969. Saturday.



I am only about two inches high or smaller. I am with a female classmate, Linda (I think on the weekend within my dream as well). We are sitting in a “giant” nest playing house. It seems to be mostly made of Spanish moss. A few “giant” raindrops fall but do not endanger us (we are under a larger branch in the tree in the northwest corner of the West Elementary playground). There is a very blissful, timeless feel as well as a slight awareness of winter beginning. At one point, I seem to move into and around the scene, as if I am flying but disembodied. It is incredibly vivid. As was often the case, I felt a very strange sense of nostalgia, even for things that were seemingly visually completely new to me, or so it seemed. This idea may be related to having a lot of the “same” dreams you do not remember in any way, and then having the “same” or similar dream you do vividly recall for some reason.

Night of November 16, 1969. Sunday.

Dream #: 1,063-02. Reading time: 1 min 18 sec.



In my vivid dream, I am riding my school bus in the morning, but I soon notice that it is now an airplane. I realize this because of the unfamiliar bird’s eye views that I observe and enjoy. I am seated in the middle of the right side, closest the aisle. There is a feeling of comfort and security as I remain passive to my surroundings.

This “airplane” continues to maintain the appearance of the inside of my school bus. The “pilot” or “bus driver” is on the left as with my school bus. He is focused and does not turn to look back at any of my classmates at any time.

Based on my views primarily through the front windshield, we seem to be going downward at one point at about a forty-five-degree angle though there is no wariness or fear. Mostly, there are scenes of ancient Greece, including the Oracle at Delphi and the Temple of Athena Nike. The imagery causes an eerie essence as if I am traveling back in time or at least seeing images of the distant past.

There are only a few other students on board, and I do not recall seeing anyone I know. I remain unsure who the pilot is. Though he is in a formal outfit and wearing a cap, my real-life school bus drivers never wore a uniform. (I do not recall waking from this dream, which seemed to be in the middle of the night.)

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It became typical for me to imagine that I was riding in something other than my school bus when going to school, such as an airplane, rocket, train, a machine that chopped all the trees down along the way (after seeing “The Lorax”), and so on.

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This dream was before I maintained a consistent use of “opossum” (family DiDELPHIdae) in my ceremonial identity (and eventual Internet username) and the spiritual link with dolphins (family DELPHInidae). I was surprised to find “Delphi” in both.

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Early morning of November 8, 1969. Saturday. (Between 1 and 3 am.)



In my dream, my female classmate, Carol Waters, is swimming in a very small “swimming pool”, which seems to instead be a section where concrete is otherwise to be poured into the hole that is presently filled with water (as part of an internal floor foundation my father had been working on). The water in it may be a result of recent rain even though the setting seems indoors, though there are possibly missing external walls behind me or on either side as well as the roof not being constructed yet. It reminds me a bit of an actual construction area my father worked at previously but also (more likely) could be from newer construction on the new rabbit shed on the north side of our backyard. There is another person in my dream besides me and Carol Waters; seemingly my father, standing with arms akimbo to the south (facing north) of the small “swimming pool”. I am to the east of it. There is a sense of puzzlement in the scenario. It seems to be midnight or after in my dream, which may be reflecting the actual time in this case.

My father seems to be puzzled as to why Carol Waters (her real name) is using it as her own private “swimming pool”, as he needs to finish his work and pour the concrete (after removing the water), though he would not actually do this work so late at night. She is “swimming” upright, almost vertically in a seemingly physically impossible way; in an unusual very swift manner back and forth (east to west and back). The scene is highly unlikely, as the area for the concrete to be poured would not be deep enough to use as such (assuming Carol is actually upright in the water, though she may just be doing a wrongly perceived or distorted dog paddle). My father says that she is “afraid to come out of the water” giving me a vague awareness of the Brian Hyland song “Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polka Dot Bikini” (even though I am not certain of what Carol is wearing in my dream, as she never comes out of the water).

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This dream was in the middle of the night, seemingly coming out of a very deep sleep. It also seems too cold (even for Florida) to consider that someone would be swimming at this time. It seems amusing in that her surname was Waters and this is the only dream I documented as ever having her specifically as a character and was related to her being in the water.

Trying to be as accurately detailed as possible here, I will add the nature of the setting as in being of typical very clear perceptual bilocation. The scene, as well as its implied in-dream location, also seems to be oddly set between the south inner and outer wall of my bedroom, partly in the front yard in front of my father’s room (original room before he built the extension into the carport). This sense of bilocation occurred in the majority of my dreams when young (and still occurs more sparsely) though I had not previously given the specifics online.

A probable meaning to this dream is that I was merely focused (in-dream) on the dreaming process itself; that is, the water being the essence of the dreaming mind, projecting myself as Carol the swimmer, the pool not being a real pool (dream state as opposed to waking consciousness), my dream being short (not that much water in the faux pool), and the building incomplete (dream not fully rendered even though vivid). As most dreams have a precognitive or remote viewing layer, this one foreshadowed newer work my father was to become involved in. (He added a new area to the rabbit shed as well as becoming more involved in local construction involving houses, churches, and park utilities.) Also, immediately after my dream, he talked about rainwater making the concrete too wet and had to do additional work.

Additional notes. There was an association with an apparently fictional lyric “she was afraid to come out of the ocean, she was afraid to come out of the sea…” (as I often misremembered song lyrics as a child). Also, I always, even at this age, felt the song was a bit ambiguous, as it was not clear if the bikini or the polka dots were yellow. I did not see Carol Waters as shy in real life.

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melatonin simulacrum subsequent mediation / water lowering waking symbolism

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Morning of November 3, 1979. Saturday.



A living pelican skeleton walks about in my family’s living room in Cubitis (though I was living in Wisconsin by this time in real life). My dream is very intense and vivid, with an augmented sense of wonder, but not eerie despite the imagery. There is a vibrant positive energy present. The pelican skeleton eventually jumps up onto a dresser (along the west wall of the living room) and then spends time seemingly looking at itself in a mirror (perhaps in puzzlement of its “twin” in the mirror) and moving its wings of bone. I am also vaguely aware of other activity in the room, something like small balls rolling around and possibly small mammals of which I do not directly focus upon.

It seems very alive and vibrant, as if I am viewing the scene through some sort of x-ray vision. There is a lot of energy in my dream, and other events are happening, but this is the main one and the focus of my dream at its most vivid level. (It reminds me, in conscious afterthought, of an image from the Time-Life book “The Birds”, which I had since I was very young.

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This dream is a unique version of the otherwise typical type of autosymbolism in the last segment of my dreams that relates to associations with vestibular system ambiguity and not knowing where my physical body is in unconsciousness. Although there is a lesser semi-lucidity here, my dream self typically does not have viable access to either my unconscious or viable memory or thinking skills, or viable awareness of my conscious self in waking life. This, in fact, is why the mirror is rendered, as a mirror is a type of autosymbolism that represents this division of liminal space. The skeleton form represents how my dream self is not my complete conscious self in waking life, combined with the flight symbol that is precursory to the actual waking transition (and of which is rendered in over one in five of my dreams, at least once per sleep cycle).

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Morning of October 4, 1969. Saturday.



I am eight years old and am outside in the backyard of my home in Florida, and I become aware that I am dreaming. I want to enjoy myself in this lucid dream that is slowly growing in vividness, but I suddenly become aware that there are buzzards circling above (as sometimes occurs in real life) and I yell up at them - saying that I am not afraid, even raising my right fist at them. (This is mainly because Florida buzzards were a recurring fear factor in my dreams of this time period, both lucid and non-lucid.)

Almost immediately, I become aware that one of the buzzards is now swooping down to get at me. I run into the carport, and the buzzard flies onto my lower back, stabbing me with its beak (at the same time I start to sit down in an attempt to somehow crush the buzzard into the back of the chair which is impossible because a buzzard is too big for such an act). I then start to wake with a bizarre intense sensation as I am also leaning back against the chair with metal legs which I had chosen to sit in as quickly as possible (the chair facing south to the wall of the carport rather than out from the wall). The chair is not that far from the main door into the house, but I knew I could not get to it in time. I also notice a lawn mower near the chair. This also seems to be some sort of premonitory awareness of a spasm of some sort in my lower back, which is much the same as in certain other dreams.

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This dream was so intense that I was almost certain that I had rolled over onto my pet cat and harmed it, but it was not around at the time. It takes some time for me to fully wake and realize this, but when I finally move, nothing is there. The in-dream sense of touch was increased to such an extent, I could feel the lumpiness in my back for a minute or so, which was not there in reality and I felt relieved that our cat was likely okay in another room as the sensation eventually dissipated.

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