memorable

Morning of September 13, 1999. Monday.



It is my wife’s birthday and mysterious packages arrive in the mail, mostly all about the same size. However, we are living at my sister Marilyn’s house. Many of the items remain on the porch.

Over time, I see that they are rather small dioramas from the television show “Space 1999”. For a short time though, I think that one section looks more like the bridge from “Star Trek: The Next Generation”. The model people are very small, not even an inch high. I contemplate on whether or not the computers work in these small models, but that seems unlikely. However, I remember that September 13th is the 256th day of the year, which relates to the number of computer codes (in decimal) for the number of bytes available (though the span is actually 0 to 255, not 1 to 256) and the first range of hex codes up to FFh. This seems significant for some reason, and I am trying to understand how there could be more than 256 days in a year, “day 0” being the start of the new year.

Then things go a bit more hazy. The whole house seems filled with incomplete pieces of spaceship models as parts of dioramas, mostly to the same small scale, and I am not sure who is sending them. I do not think that my wife is that interested, especially as there is not that much room to set them up properly. I learn that one diorama is indeed the open-top bridge view of the Enterprise (from “Star Trek: The Next Generation”) while another is an open-top view of the Eagle from “Space 1999”, or rather, just a smaller section of the inside. They seem to be in “communication” somehow. The Captain Picard character is actually glued to his seat in the model (in sitting position as if in the middle of giving an order), but I think some are free to move a bit. Even though he is less than an inch high, he seems to be “alive” at one point and asking how he can leave his chair. He seems to represent everyman and, even though he is interesting in exploring space and doing his “job” is literally glued to his captain’s chair and unable to leave the porch of the house. I almost “feel sorry” for him even though he is only a less-than-an-inch-high plastic man. It seems strange to have models - as in the back of my mind, I would think these figures get tired of standing or sitting around so long solely to “entertain” their “captors”.

Morning of May 6, 1997. Tuesday.

I mostly see images of skeletal human figures that are made of ashes. They seem to be gripping white, smooth, flat, oval stones. There are images of angels that seem to be flying into me (which represents coalescence of different patterns and dynamics within the dream state). There are some images based on when Helene (my wife Zsuzsanna’s mother) was thrown off the bus yesterday in real life.

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Morning of July 5, 1996. Friday.



This was one of my most vivid dreams during this time period. Somehow, even though I seem fully conscious and fully in-body in this dream, I do not enter any level of lucidity.

My wife Zsuzsanna and I are standing on a second-floor veranda in what may be some sort of unusual composite of airport, shopping center, and mansion. We are looking out over intensely beautiful silvery water. There is a heightened sense of peace and the sense of touch is augmented. I study the reflections on the water’s surface in appreciation for what seems like an hour or so. A sense of timelessness and happiness dominates the scene.

Eventually, a male around my age who reminds me somewhat of a British guard, but wearing a stove pipe hat, grows larger and larger as he walks, but not in any menacing way (as he does not seem to regard us in any way at any point). He becomes at least as tall as the two-storey building. As he continues to walk to the right, he then starts to become smaller and smaller until only his otherwise large hat is left rolling around. I then start focusing on the rolling of the hat. Even though the imagery is quite surreal, it also somehow seems “realistic” and “correct”.

In another scene, we are taking a small fast escalator somewhere. Everyone else is having difficulties, as they are using a particular escalator for the wrong direction, trying to walk down the one going up and trying to walk up the one going down (and of course, I have seen children and teens mess about on escalators like this in reality). Seemingly, we are the only ones who get to our destination.

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The first part of my dream reminds me vaguely of the “friendly giant” dreams I mostly had around age five when living on Rose Street in Wisconsin.

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Morning of January 20, 1996. Saturday.



There is a special temple which many people have visited once or twice and left gifts at, most of which are still sitting around, many unwrapped, including stuffed toys, bowls of food (such as strawberries), and what looks like wrapped Christmas presents. There is also a tomb fairly close to the temple. The tomb has supposedly not been entered for hundreds of years. It is really large and probably contains several bodies, even mummified ones, of saints, and supposedly even Christ, and there is also said to be the mummified body of the Virgin Mary inside a forecourt statue. There is also an area where there are five small holes somewhere on the outside wall of the tomb that looks just like the pattern of the five-spot on a die or domino. (An alternate occult, “secret” version of the Star of David points when the two triangles are moved apart from each other, and the mirrored - top to bottom - Mayan “22” symbol). However, this “five-spot” can somehow only be seen by looking through the hole of yet another building in the region, from a fair distance.

A “living” Virgin Mary statue is said to walk around each night (when the Mary mummy comes to life and energizes the statue from within into a “real” human form), but there is controversy, saying it is actually someone carrying the statue around for cleaning, repairs, or repainting each night. The main building’s street number is twenty-two something.

There is also a stray dog that is mistaken for the Virgin Mary statue being “alive” by somehow getting pieces of it stuck on him (apparently it was actually hollow) and people start saying prayers to the whimpering dog (no one notices the whimpering or asks why the Virgin Mary is “crawling”). There is also a part where the dog seems to have gotten parts of a griffin statue stuck on his head and body. He looks quite convincing as a griffin, but the Virgin Mary, not so much. A large bird tries to get at the dog, and the flapping wings make it look even more “real” and part of the one animal.

Eventually, I enter the tomb as a part of some sort of role in a documentary - I seem to be someone else, perhaps that guy that made all those ridiculous fake and highly misleading “Chariots of the Gods” books (Von Daniken). There is then an idea that it may not be the tomb of saints, but Satan’s prison instead (I guess people are vague on the matter as usual, as different people say different things regarding what they see). I do talk to a couple of people who seem to have been living in the tomb for some reason.

People need to be careful, because perhaps the “devil” could get out.

I then find out that drawers - supposedly with the ancient bodies (but like a modern morgue) can be accessed from the outside wall. It then becomes more like a post office on the outside with post office drawers - the kind normally opened with a key - but accessible by anyone.

It turns out that the ancient bodies and bones of saints (and Christ) are complete fabrication and misrepresented by a tourist brochure and hotel flyers; they are mostly just newer plastic white picnic forks and such, not bones, and I think other drawers are for large picnic blankets that visitors rent (which I think were listed as “holy shrouds” in one part of a brochure - the supposed “Shroud of Turin” has black and red modern plaid designs on it now).

I notice a young couple enjoying a wonderful picnic in the park and get a sense that religions are distractions from having a meaningful life “in the now”. There will probably be people in the future seeing the plastic white picnic forks as “bones”. Both the temple and the tomb turn out to be an illusion, and are only modern places for entertainment and recreation.

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This dream was quite bizarre, but I still enjoyed it, especially the blissful temple scenes, where it turns out to be a bandstand at a park (the presents being part of an ongoing larger neighborhood party), and the “tomb” some sort of storage area for picnic utensils and such as well as a combined post office and modern “local celebrities” museum after all. (The park seemed in part like Pettibone Park, so there could be a play on “petty bone”.) My dreams colored my mood in a positive enriching manner.

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What does it mean to dream of a griffin? At the core level, a griffin is a flight symbol. A flight symbol is rendered in a dream in subliminal anticipation of the hypnopompic waking start. Additionally, a griffin is a mix of unrelated animals, which is likely to be a unique precursor factor of the coalescence of the preconscious and emergent consciousness.

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Some of my other dreams that feature griffins (links): (1) Griffin vs. Grandfather Clock, (2) R Brand, (3) Malfunctioning Griffin Game, (4) Making a Griffin?

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Morning of May 5, 1995. Friday.



I am in my older sister Marilyn’s house on Loomis Street in the dining room area. My sister Marilyn, brother-in-law Bob, Anita P, older brother Dennis, CS, and my mother are present.

There is apparently a “forced battle” underway (uncertain of reason - may be just me messing around to see what happens, sort of like a chemistry experiment I suppose) between “demons” and “fairies”. There are miniature mechanical people yet at the same time they seem to be alive (fairy cyborgs?). I put a smaller “demon” (a “possessed” cocktail umbrella - watch out for those demonic cocktail umbrellas) and “fairy” together and they explode, leaving a blast pattern that seems mostly of salt grains, but there is no major damage.

I have a small disc in my hand, somewhat like a Frisbee, with lights flashing within it (as if through a gel of some sort). It is a small Japanese umbrella demon/creature and is expanding almost balloon-like. Soon, it is somehow crawling on the ceiling and there is the idea that it will swallow many people. I feel that it is my task to stop it. I hold up a small metallic object or rock in the form of a somewhat squarish dark brown or bronze and black carved cat’s head - which possibly serves as a lid for the container where the demon is kept in its “baby” form. It says “Damn!” in a male voice and with a distinct “powering down” pitch in the audio (as the word trails off) - with a sense of authority, yet also beaten - and I happily sense and accept its defeat (the audio is extremely vivid at this point). It becomes more and more wrinkled as it seems “stuck” on the ceiling like a sort of “giant amoeba” and I guess goes into a state of inactivity. This entire scene actually seems quite vivid (though not lucid) regardless of how odd it is. There is also something (fairly vague) about the wall clock in the northwest corner of the dining room moving in reverse or jumping back a couple times (recurring at that time).

There is later something about moving boxes and other things from another room. My brother-in-law’s younger female relative Anita P is there to help my sister at times. I dial 0700 and a man’s voice is loudly heard all around the room but it is a recording, coming through some sort of smaller intercoms along the walls and corners. Finally, realizing other people are probably tired of hearing it (even though they do not seem to notice - my brother-in-law spends mostly the whole time watching television in a daze as in real life), I hang up. I am not sure what any of the actual words were (if any) or what it related to.

The first thing I saw (on television) after waking was an umbrella of the same appearance as from my dream (at one point, prior to an additional transformation) which happens all the time - that is - certain dream imagery unfolding fairly precisely right after waking. I even get this with some forms of meditation.

Moral of the story: If you go into a Japanese restaurant and you receive a metallic cat-shaped container and open it to find small cocktail umbrellas, time to leave, I guess.

Night of June 3, 1994. Friday.



This was mostly a recurring dream (sparsely) from June 1994 (Clayfield, Brisbane in Australia) to last year. It was based on a personal history of a fairly overwhelming nature (that oddly enough had partial precognitive elements as usual - this time being rather over-the-top bizarre); that is, the inability of nearly everyone I had ever known (with exceptions being such as my wife and unfortunately her mother to an extent) of seeing the second level of continuity (or even knowing it exists for that matter), which can be found through a few different methods, both spiritual and mathematical. Unfortunately, I “blew it” recently with not recognizing it in its fully conscious form which integrated into my personal dream history, so much so, I now write dreams that are sometimes a month or so ahead of what I see on my own path that are actually “someone else’s” in part (thus I am the “copycat”, not the other person) - this had always happened more precisely with everything from comic book plots to new television show episodes (one main reason why I did not choose to become a writer or journalist). “On my own path” is very important (perspective-wise), as fractal continuity does work from one’s own perspective in the same way as it does universally or collectively (relating to the “All Mind” or the supraconscious) - which of course, only makes sense, as that is what fractal continuity is in the first place - and loosely is along similar lines as the microcosm and macrocosm concepts.

I used to experiment with anything and everything in this way (still do, actually, but more manually again, as computer-generated “randomness” is not really feasible). I would even list license plate numbers in the random order I saw them when walking down the street and find the clustered patterns implying fractals.

At any rate, my dream is sometimes based in a school library and best friend Toby T finds the beginning hints of the “key” while the song “Move On” by Abba is playing. Later, I resolve the last stages, much like solving an equation using negative infinity. Other environments were businesses, which for some reason, had computer access for the public.

An older gentlemen is at a computer, but I decide to sit down and work it out with pencil and paper. Over time, I see a definite wave structure (yet also fractal at one level) in English language continuity. There are outliers, of course (such as Z and Q and J and so on, regarding even exponential decay), but there even seems to be a certain pattern in their usage, albeit at a very sparse level (thus the outliers - which still seem wavelike - much like subtle harmonics in an audio spectrograph). I inform the man that I finally decided on how it works. By dividing something into something else (and that means everything) you are able to touch upon the second layer of continuity that is otherwise always “hidden”.

He ignores me for awhile, and I write something out using a private exercise of alphanumeric division I do (real math, not anything occult-related at all) - then I notice that the wall calendar has my first name instead of the month. It is Claude the fifth when I ask him about the date - and the time is supposedly “22 past Claude”. I see my name embossed on the computer and that it says “Claude 586” which is supposedly the kind of computer it is. I feel sort of strange, but then ask him where I am and the city we are in is also apparently named by my middle name as the fictional (USA) state and my first name as the city. I also see my name in the newspaper and other locations. This seems quite odd and yet I still am not aware it is a dream I had many times before.

What is so funny about this, on top of everything else incredibly strange and beautiful regarding what my wife and I have shared; when we first met, her relatives where she was staying while they picked me up at the airport lived in a building with my middle name near a street with my first name. (We still smile about all that twenty years later.)

Night of November 6, 1992. Friday.



This dream first came in 1992 (before I even met my wife), but there have been other versions, including one in 2008 which I posted on my old journal. Here are the basics.

It all starts in a perfectly innocent manner. My wife and I are dining in public in a small restaurant in what seems to be a rural area. There are not many residential houses around and much of the region seems like an isolated farming community. There are small lists of rules and guidelines everywhere (even on trees - which is somewhat of an eyesore in an otherwise enjoyable natural landscape) that give details on what a human being is allowed to do or not do by some sort of pseudo-morality of likely a single person in the region (who probably owns the most land and properties). It includes what people should eat and not eat (even what shape - for example, diagonally sliced sandwiches are not allowed because it implies “sneaking” from corner to corner as the “devil” does). Time passes and we apparently do something “wrong” although I am not sure what it is. Perhaps it is something to do with how our bodies are positioned at the table or being too close together in public (which I think is actually the case implied here). At any rate, I find myself with the power to become invisible and also send my wife (by some sort of magic) to a safer location as more and more people seem offended for no apparent reason. When I become invisible, it seems to work for a short time in evading them, but then they note my footprints and are able to follow me for a time.

For some reason, I get the impression that these people have “evil” in their hearts (while pretending others are “evil” by not following their rules in diet and routine) and are only pretending to live as a Utopian community. They chase me around (even though I am invisible) watching where I leave my footprints. However, I find myself with the ability to walk without leaving footprints and for some time, they are baffled. However, they then start dropping nets and putting up temporary barbed-wire fences everywhere they can. I run into a barbed-wire fence and drag it along behind me and they point and give chase.

Soon, though, I then have the ability to pass through solid objects and simply go wherever I want with no threat of capture. I watch the people run around pointing in random directions (never at me anymore) and fights ensue amongst themselves based on “rules” regarding how to capture and deal with someone evading their rules. This seems so ironic I start laughing and my sides actually begin to “hurt” or more like “tickle” and I almost give myself away.

I notice more houses than before. More people are called in to deal with me, the “devil” in their midst. They start shooting cannons of powder and such and throwing grenades into random locations. Every now and then, they accidentally kill one of their own group. They also start doing a revisionist history of what my wife and I were supposedly involved in while in the restaurant (which is now a landmark due to the inhuman “creatures” having been there), all completely fabricated by the town gossips. They gather around campfires telling stories of the “boogeyman” who still haunts their town. Eventually, the cannons going off all the time start to annoy me and I decide that I might just as well leave the region altogether. I then have the power to hover and fly about.

Eventually, I come to a bridge which is now no longer wooden but concrete and two-lane and covered with barbed-wire fencing and diagonally striped red and white guardhouses. I look back and notice the whole area now looks more like domed cities from “Logan’s Run” and very futuristic. Futuristic “jets” and other flying military craft are speeding across the sky and shooting at each other and many crash into residential buildings below with one explosion after another. The death toll (around 10,000) is shown on a large football-scoreboard-like structure. Apparently, all this destruction and war is going on just to find out where I am. I stand on the bridge watching. I then fly away high into the sky (as a ball of blue light) leaving them to obliterate themselves…

Morning of February 22, 1992. Saturday.



My dream girl (oh…except for one little thing - she is now real) approaches the Tree of Knowledge. There is a resonance whereby, though there is change, the form can still be discerned over time. Remote viewing comes so easily at times. For her, I was born, even before her own birth. Humanity has no answers or even a scrap of knowledge concerning my nature, but that has never been problematic in any serious sense.

I see the universe at the base, the roots alive, almost octopus-like. Above each root is an eye-like structure, the eyes somewhat catlike, though actually each “eye” is more like a portal over time. A spiral. So I draw these facets as spirals. Within these roots are smaller roots. On and on. Of course, everyone doodles spirals and many-eyed octopus trees with hooked roots at some point in their lives. Yes?

When she was much younger, Zsuzsanna drew a rather surreal image in her journal. Years later, when I was writing to her and her family, I drew a similar concept on the outside of an envelope without having any clue of what she had drawn. Once again, the truth unveils (even though she already knew who I was with my very first letter - after all, for whatever reason, she had found me and remote-viewed my life since her birth - endless proof; everywhere).

Being only one of hundreds (make that thousands) of similar occurrences, which is quite beneficial, as it stops ordinary people from wanting to be near one (faces of fear, faces of bafflement, faces of anger) - thus less misleading and misguided rubbish from their limited awareness of the universe casts one’s way - it does not take a genius to know the “cop outs” of humanity are of no value for one seeking truth in their own path. People have tried to influence me since I was very young. I gawk at their audacity and limited understanding. Yet there is still respect for them as living beings.

The first image is scanned from one of my wife’s old journals. The second from the envelope I sent from America to Australia (without knowing of the contents of her journals). This one is a freebie and for mild amusement. For all the ones that are “too close”, I have learned that most people do not have the capacity to either believe or understand. It is a predictable habit people have to run from the Source rather than embrace it and thus many always keep their back to it. I had nothing to fear.

Which does not mean, of course, that the universe is a plant-like octopus reaching out to grab you.

Morning of November 23, 1991. Saturday.



Status: Solved

It was not until sometime around perhaps late 1991 that we (Zsuzsanna and I) began to realize that everything around us seemed encoded for whatever reason as we had already realized our own connections (and though certain other people were aware of this as well, they were quite manipulative). This was one of those really odd dreams I had to look deeper into and, interestingly enough, was more obvious than many others I had.

My dream starts out about as vividly and realistically rendered as a dream can be. I am lucid, but have a vague idea that I “really” am near the ocean in late morning somehow if only in my dream body (though the concern I sometimes have about where my real body is or what it is doing is far less pronounced). I sense the presence of an entity that seems to be nearby in the form of an “invisible” ball of water. After a short time, I ask the being what his name is.

“Isaiah!” he says, loudly and dramatically. I feel the energy of the ocean’s movement and it actually feels like a “superior” being is present (which is quite rare in my dreams relative to any level of uncertainty about how to proceed). I am very glad that this is occurring. I think about asking questions of this being since it seems to be very ancient and wise.

However, after a time, the vividness starts to decay and the presence lessens in perceived power somewhat, eventually becoming rather mundane in feeling and sounding more like an ordinary man speaking, albeit with slight authority. He starts talking about the Lord and various names of the Lord, using the word “holy” several times (and almost all of what he is saying seeming to be passages from the Bible, perhaps as related by a somewhat distracted televangelist), but clarity is beginning to fade and I become annoyed at how generic and impersonal his speaking becomes when compared to the seeming direct contact during the first part of my dream, though that was probably the fault of a consciousness shift.

As he is speaking more and more impersonally, I seem to jump to a different location and see continuous skewed imagery of a cow looking at me. Sometimes the imagery actually moves completely sideways as if I am watching a film that got scrambled (or a dynamic three-dimensional photograph that is rotating), as I am seemingly not moving at all - only the angle of what I am seeing is moving. It seems odd looking at this random cow while listening to someone quote random passages from the Bible - his voice seeming more hesitant and unsure as time passes - and it all begins to puzzle me as well as irritate me somewhat. I eventually wake thinking about how “pointless” the last part of my dream was. I mostly saw it as a warning against religion and in not becoming a cow as such and still stand by that interpretation at some levels.

What I had since learned is how easy it was to interpret. The cow of course, was a representation of Hathor, a variation of my wife’s surname. Also, silly me, I had not realized it came from “Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)” by the Eurythmics (always wondered about that cow scene). The sledgehammer is the symbol of one of my family lines (”I’d rather be a hammer than a nail”). The Hammer is also the symbol of creation when the One struck the surface of the life pool and each droplet from the splash became an individual human consciousness, no longer “as one”.

Now, granted, I was doing a lot of other decoding and such at this time and did not really pay much attention to this dream. Even in noticing the title had “Dream” (“mirrored” in audio reversal) and “Sweet” (“twos” or “deuce” depending on how you want to hear it and being doubly layered with the heart symbol as such), I was not too interested. Of course, their other song at the time was “I Could Give You A Mirror”. Well, how obvious can you get? “The original recording’s main instrumentation featured a sequenced analog synthesizer riff, which Stewart accidentally discovered in the studio when he played a bass track backwards.” Oh…that obvious. Holy cow.

Morning of March 4, 1991. Monday.



It seems to be morning. I had gotten up and gone to the back room of the Loomis Street house, I think to get something from the second refrigerator. I am distracted by a large dresser that faces out from the east wall near the doorway (which was never there in real life and this location of the dresser would not be possible in reality as it would have blocked the doorway).

Looking in the mirror, I see my lifelong dream girl in perfect detail (the most attractive female I had ever seen though I had always assumed her to be fictional), as if she is implied to be my own reflection, though lower in the mirror than my own head would actually be. She smiles intensely and seems to radiate an “I found you” triumphant visage. I look at her for a considerable time and feel slightly puzzled, yet I do not realize how “impossible” it is to see someone else’s reflection in a mirror other than your own.

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Zsuzsanna first wrote to me on March 16th, 1991. There are hundreds of completely unexplainable events relating to my dream girl. Needless to say, this has completely changed my view of humanity and of life itself.

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Morning of February 17, 1991. Sunday.



I consider this dream precognitive due to its vivid and personal nature regarding upcoming contact with my future wife a short time before my first highly unlikely and unexpected communication with her in real life. It had the very similar mood and awareness found in my more personally precognitive dreams and the extra layer of focus.

I have absolutely no doubt that this dream (of many others) somehow “announced” my upcoming contact and partnership with my soulmate (lifelong “mystery girl”). I would have to be extremely shortsighted (as well as wholly ignorant of my own consciousness and previous experiences) to see it differently. I would like to be clear that the opinions of skeptics mean nothing to me.

In my dream, I am back in Cubitis (Florida) on the south side of the front section of the shed. Oddly though, at the same time, I seem to be doing some gardening for sister Marilyn at her house in Wisconsin. Over time, I pull up several larger weeds.

Eventually, I find a stubborn “root” which I believe to be that of a larger plant somewhere in the area, perhaps even a tree or at least a shrub. When I pull on it, it turns out to be an electrical cord and an old antique lamp (similar to one my sister had in real life) emerges from the ground, entangled in actual roots. I feel a vivid sense of wonder and awe that is very hard to describe.

The lamp has two figures on the base, a presumed married couple effigy, but very old-fashioned (possibly 1700s); a dark-haired woman in a wedding dress and her partner. There is a very unusual emotion as if it is an important discovery and that the man may somehow be “me”. It seems very personal and significant. I am thinking about whether or not the lamp will still work after being buried in the ground for so long.

Optimized 2 minute 30 second read.

Saturday morning, 9 February 1991.

Time Gate (fascinating and life-changing outcome)

Dream # 8,818-01.




Exactly three years after this dream, I arrived in Australia to meet with my real-world "dream girl."

The beginning of my dream involves me becoming aware of the "sugar shack"/"old shack" dreams I had as a child that also had several inexplicable outcomes. In this case, the real-world Arcadia post office and the "sugar shack" imply the essence of a single location.

The area is unlike waking life. It is more like an open field as I walk to the west. Despite the incorrect nature of the setting, I am near the Arcadia post office. I come to an area that reminds me of the isolated trellis I had deliberately used to leave the dream state many years previously. A large metal green fence seems to divide a mix of previous times from the present. I experience a vivid sense of timelessness. A mammoth, tyrannosaurus, and deer are all from different eras, but their life energy is intense and present.

Behind the fence, I see a "realistic" growling tyrannosaurus and a grunting woolly mammoth as my dream becomes more vivid. There is a woman in black (a young Barbara Steele or the "mystery girl" or a mix of both), prehistoric deer and goats, emus, ornithomimosaurs, and various small animals.

There are also a few robots in the "Magnus Robot Fighter" comic book's style. ("Magnus" is the name of the main character in "The Bermuda Depths" and the brand name of an electric organ that I often played when younger.)

I have a vivid impression that something inexplicable is impending. I consider that part of the northern end of the "time gate" may be attached to the post office. I find a room resembling part of the King Street house - my L-shaped apartment (before I lived there in waking life).

Susan R, a classmate, seems to be on a safari and exits a jeep with others and squats to study footprints.

I hear a sudden stampede influenced by the Tasmanian Devil cartoons (where the animals run from him). Even so, it is far more realistic as I watch animals rush by the window, leaving a large dust cloud. The noise is incredible. I get a sense of being in Australia (where I had never been at that point) even though the setting is in Florida. The stampede means the "time gate" had been opened. I say, "Oh-oh." An unknown witness responds with "What?" as I again say, "Oh-oh." The post office building shakes.

I go to the front entrance of the post office, wondering if the animals will destroy the building and if I will be safer somewhere else. I walk outside, and it now seems to be a quiet, sunny day. However, I turn around as a giant dove approaches me. It slowly walks from the building. It has a red heart symbol on its chest. I hold a burning sword, but I wake before anything else occurs.

The dove from the post office reminds me of the American postage stamps featuring doves and heart symbols.

As a boy, I was intrigued by coincidental patterns that emerged from different letter arrangements. A next-consonant, next-vowel continuity from JESUS is KITAT, LOVEV. When I tried it with my first and middle name, I got CLAUDECLARENCE, DMEAFIDMESIPDI, FNIEGOFNITOQFO, GPOIHUGPOVURGU, which I decided "might be" GPO I HUG PO VIRGO.

After this dream (in March of the same year), Zsuzsanna and I communicated for the first time in waking life. We started regularly writing letters and talking on the telephone.

Zsuzsanna is a Virgo, but I have zero interest or belief in astrology, tarot, or any other nonsensical system. (As a boy, I learned systems like astrology and tarot were wrong beyond the laws of chance, which I found odd.)

The Postal Service issued its Love stamp booklet on Valentine's Day, February 1994, the year that Zsuzsanna and I married.

I have recently recognized that the front fence of our home (same design with metal vertical bars) is a “miniature version” of the “time gate” of my dream. (The owner added the fence years after we moved here.)

The birthplace of Zsuzsanna's mother is the antipode of the Arcadia post office. It is also antipodal to my place of birth (Punta Gorda).

I was always puzzled (as a child) by how much a rotated Australia resembled North America - as if it was "on purpose."

It is important to understand that our new fence appeared LONG AFTER my original image for this dream report.

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Night of January 10, 1991. Thursday.

Dream Number 47,590 (original system). Optimized 1 minute 45 second read.



Waking-Life Factors Underlying this Dreaming Experience:

I had slept about 15 hours, the longest I ever slept in my life. It was a cold evening, and I had felt unwell. I wrapped myself in blankets and slept on the floor of the northwest corner of the sun parlor of the Loomis Street house in La Crosse, Wisconsin. My head was northward. I was sleeping on my left side in a fetal position.

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Dream Content:

I stand near the doorway in the bathroom of the Cubitis house. There is not much light (at first) other than a soft yellowish glow from outside via the small window, but it seems to be nighttime. Several unknown people are standing around, and their attention is on an unfamiliar man on a motorcycle. He readies himself to perform a stunt.

The motorcycle turns slightly, moving from its orientation toward the toilet to being in line with the window, its headlight brightening. The motorcycle rises into the air with a soft mechanical humming, going toward the window, simultaneously "shrinking" (caused by distorted distance perception) as I wake with a need to use the bathroom.

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CAUSATION (not "interpretation"):

With this familiar dream type, imaginary kinesthesia (vivid but illusory movement and motion) begins because of vestibular phasing, caused by emerging from REM atonia (solely a result of REM sleep). (All dreams in this mode result from vestibular phasing during emergence from REM atonia but with slightly different narrative types.) This association results in imagining my dream body as a vehicle to compensate for the illusion of vestibular phasing. (There are thousands of matching examples of this process in my online journal.)

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Virtual Amnesia and Dream Errors:

A motorcycle would never have fit in the small Cubitis bathroom. The bathroom window was too small and too high for a child to climb through. I am in the Cubitis house to prevent associating the dream state with real life. (An imaginary bathroom while sleeping is useless.)

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USE YOUR BRAIN:

Try to grasp the reason the motorcycle first aimed toward the toilet but with the outcome that it left my dream's imaginary setting through the window despite the surreal (and nonsensical) implication because of my attention vacillating from dreaming to waking out of a biological need. The crowd (lack of privacy) was a secondary factor in making my dream's imaginary bathroom unusable.

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Morning of December 16, 1990. Sunday.



I am in the northern side yard in Cubitis, in the exact same spot as several dreams of the past which were of certain significance. I sense it is early morning, perhaps around eight o'clock, and there is a light mist about a foot high in some areas, including near the foundation of the shed. The green-eyed, dark-haired “mystery girl” with the unusual mixed Hungarian Roma (gypsy) and Australian accent, as vivid as ever, seems to be playing some sort of game, pretending we are in a “fall over and die” childhood game even though she seems about twenty years old. I perceive myself as “Little Red Feather”, the name I gave to a toy I was given in Wisconsin from Evelyn W. (She said I could pick out any toy to keep and I selected a Native American figure that was on his knee while aiming a bow and arrow.)

I fall down and roll over on the lawn automatically, seeing her tower above me with a look of victory (she primarily faces southeast at this point) yet soon with an amazing smile. I feel very weak though not threatened even though she seems to be thinking “I’ve got you now”. She is almost goddess-like and does not seem to have negative intent. I am trying to work out the scenario and its implications but I cannot move as I would like. I sense others around (mostly to the west, past the carport) but they are vague compared to her. I do not even realize that I had not been in this location in real life since summer of 1978. (I do have a vague memory of living in Wisconsin but the thought does not trigger any significant sense of where I actually am in reality.) Although there were numerous other more vivid dreams during this time period featuring this “imaginary” girl (again, the same one since early childhood), this one stands out as being one of the key dream scenarios that finally made the impact…especially as she turned out to be a real person.

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Zsuzsanna had an imaginary friend called “Little Red Feather” that she used to play this game with as a child. She had remote viewed my life all her life (which has been validated in virtually countless ways - and it still occurs continuously on a day to day basis).

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Morning of November 6, 1990. Tuesday.



In my dream, I apparently have a pet tiger of which I am first vaguely wary of (though not fearful). I am walking north along George street on the west side of the street in La Crosse, Wisconsin. I notice that I am walking with a tiger on my left. It seems like a long journey at first, though I do not leave the sidewalk along George Street until I get to the IGA store. At times, I am absentmindedly holding onto the tiger’s tail. (It also seems like a couple unknown people are with me at times, but I am not focused on them.)

Over time, as I am walking, the tiger seems less and less potentially threatening to people in general until I see him as a faithful companion. We end up near the entrance of the IGA store.

On one level, this is a subliminal repeat of a scenario associated with “Calvin and Hobbes”, a comic strip that featured a young boy and Hobbes, his “pet tiger” that was actually a stuffed animal. The comic strip I read prior to my dream featured the following exchange: Calvin: “Another gorgeous brisk fall day.” and (next panel) “What a waste to be going to school on a morning like this.” - Hobbes: “What would you do if you could stay home this morning?” - Calvin: “Sleep right through it.”

“What would you do if you could stay home this morning?” asks the tiger as we are walking in my dream. (I had forgotten “sleep right through it” as the potential lucidity trigger.) “Huh?” I think, as tigers cannot talk. However, as the scene seems to change, I see that the “tiger” is actually now Charles Bronson (with no sign of a costume anywhere), sitting with me near the entrance of the IGA store, with his legs out and vaguely reminiscent of a ventriloquist dummy. I do not contemplate the impossible transformation from tiger to man. I am sitting to his right. We are both facing the parking lot as other people come and go. He is saying more to me, though I do not focus on what he is saying. I start to think that Charles Bronson was not a tiger (even though the preconscious had been rendered as the tiger as such), but a large domestic tiger cat, by which I say without emotion, “wow, you’re the biggest cat I ever saw”, which makes me feel vaguely foolish as he is no longer either a tiger or a domestic cat. He does not seem to notice my mild embarrassment and still seems somewhat catlike, though mostly only with catlike whiskers.

Around this time in real life, but before I met her, my wife Zsuzsanna had gotten a tiger cat she named “Mr. Bronson” (though she tells me she is uncertain of why she used the name). She wrote in her journal (before we were ever in contact) under his picture: “Mr. Bronson, the biggest cat I ever saw”. This is shown in the scanned image of her journal and is legitimate evidence of inexplicable events based on communication at other levels that most people are incapable of accepting or understanding.

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There are additional influences and threads that partially resulted in non-lucid dream control. This includes:

Two songs my father performed in public venues, “I’ve Got a Tiger by the Tail” (a popular Buck Owens song from 1965) and “Tiger Rag” (“Hold that Tiger”).

Two tiger-themed advertisements, the “put a tiger in your tank” advertisement from Esso, and Tony the Tiger yelling “they’re great!” about Kellogg’s Cornflakes. (Charles Bronson had a son named Tony and a daughter named Suzanne.)

Exactly one year before my wife Zsuzsanna was born on September 13, 1968, one of the only episodes of “The Virginian” that I watched all the way through was aired. It was titled “The Reckoning” and featured Charles Bronson.

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Other factors of this dream, I have explained many times in past entries. This includes the parking lot as a common form of autosymbolism for a specific level of consciousness during the waking transition as a result of subliminal association with the physical body being inactive while asleep. The outcome of this dream is that the reticular activating system modulation factor (the tiger) transforms into the emergent consciousness factor (Charles Bronson) because of both non-lucid dream control and inexplicable communication with Zsuzsanna (my soulmate) before we met in real life. Note the similar template to many other dreams, including “Changing the Lion of Coalescence into my Wife Zsuzsanna” from December 3, 2016, where instead of a tiger becoming Charles Bronson, a lion becomes Zsuzsanna.

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