memorable

Morning of June 29, 1978. Thursday.



This is a very strange mashup dream - the final version being eerily precognitive (regardless of the odd plot), the sparser “prototype” (but far more comedic and cartoon-like) first occurring February 7th, 1978 (shortly after seeing the last “Logan’s Run” episode on its first airing, which was called “Stargate” - unrelated to the later series of that name) - there was a more extensive “repeat” that was more “logical” in some ways (and again, less comedic), on the night June 28th, 1978 to the morning of June 29th, before Bob (Robert) Crane (star of “Hogan’s Heroes”) died in real life - so I am assuming a rather complex level of precognition and synchronicity here. There was also an “anniversary version” on June 29th, 1979 - which had uneasy implications in memory of the prior even though I already accepted it as precognitive regarding the Bob Crane issue. It all is related to a fictional adventure movie that is a combination of two real-life television shows, “Hogan’s Heroes” and “Logan’s Run”. I had finally written a story, but did not keep it when I heard that Bob Crane had died the next day. There has been a later series of the “Logan’s Run” title, and there is apparently going to be a remake.

In my dream, it is “Hogan’s Run”. I will try to include some of the more basic scenes from all versions. I actually play the role of Hogan (Bob Crane) from almost an external awareness of some kind (as if I am hovering above the character at all times) - only the “Hogan’s Heroes” characters and relevant personas are in my dream - none from “Logan’s Run”.

One scene involves soldiers marching at Stalag 13, although it is also like a “Logan’s Run” scenario in some ways. There is a scene where General der Infanterie Albert Burkhalter (Leon Askin) yells at Col. Wilhelm Klink (Werner Klemperer) about needing to “control his men” as they seem to be marching around in a disorderly fashion almost like out-of-control robots (this scene seems to also take place in front of my sister Marilyn’s house on Loomis Street - one of the first dreams since moving from Florida in the last days of June, but there are more trees - though in real life, some of them had gotten Dutch elm disease - incidentally forming DED as an acronym). There is another scene where General Burkhalter suddenly transforms into a gurgling infant in a restaurant where he and Col. Klink are seated at opposite sides of a round table. He is eating applesauce and gets some in his “hair” and on Col. Klink. However, he has only one long strand of hair sticking from the top of his head and forming a slight spiral, but has almost the same face as his adult form. This is possibly due to the word “Infanterie”, as Col. Klink refers (sarcastically) to Burkhalter as “being in infantry” during the meeting - which at that point, seems to actually be in Germany.

There is a disjointed part of my dream that seems to connect to Foghorn Leghorn cartoons, with “duplicate” dog characters related slightly to the soldier scene - then they seem to blur one into another and a scene with two men marching into each other as they become one, slightly disoriented for a short time.

There is a place that sounds something like “Wavering Heights” or “Waverling Heights” (I first assumed a corruption of “Wuthering Heights” - which was coincidentally one of the first things my wife’s mother mentioned when we first made contact) - which I think is one of the main cities in another area that Hogan is trying to get to. (Coincidentally, the place I lived at years later, with my wife and two children at the time, was called “Wavell Heights”, a suburb of Brisbane.) In my dream though, a “waverling” seems to be some sort of name for a half-grown fish.

At the main vivid part, and the seeming outcome (but which changes), Hogan is on some sort of raft that is propelled by some sort of high-tech gadget or motor. There appear to be farm animals aboard. They are singing happily about escaping from the prison camp and going on to freedom on the other side of the big river (even though there is supposedly more pollution where they are going). The song they are singing at one point (see link) is actually one Bob Crane sang in real life with one of the Smothers Brothers. I also used to hear it when I was in sixth grade (where a main issue was pollution at that time, including a song called “Take My Hand My Son”), the lines I most remember being “Pollution, pollution, wear a gas mask and a veil, then you can breathe long as you don’t inhale”. I had my own “stupid version” for a time and not knowing any better, sang “then you can breathe long as you don’t get ill…” I guess I should not feel too bad, as two girls I knew (one being the “other”, Susan R, and the other girl, Susan C), once sang “The answer is blowing in the wind-ow”.

In the end, everything goes really weird and “bubbly”. They go through a “stargate”, which is more like some sort of giant culvert (or part of a dam’s spillway?) or a standalone circular “door” at one point - a portal into another “world” (recurring from late 1960s). They appear to have a miniature Statue of Liberty on board. The raft goes faster and faster, the mood turns happily more cartoon-like, the characters on the raft are leaning more and more forward; the water is spraying about their raft like it is the fastest thing ever. The music gets faster and high-pitched in a near-Mickey-Mouse-like way, almost to the point of being highly annoying and distorted in a surreal sense…“If you visit American city, you will find it very pretty…looong as yooou don’t inhaaale…”. Suddenly, it turns out that Hogan had been sleeping all that time and was still drugged from an attempted escape and in a state of dying. A voice rings out menacingly yet with a melancholy atmosphere. It is the very serious voice of Col. Klink…“I told you…(dramatic pause)…No one ever escapes from Stalag thirTEEN” (stronger accent on “teen”). My dream ends there. Although this section was quite eerily precognitive of the “real Hogan” dying shortly after, it is also a strange play (influence) of the “Deadly Dream” movie from 1971, with Lloyd Bridges - in which it ends the same way and he dies.

The level of “personal foreshadowing” unknowingly triggered by subtle prior causes versus willful (conscious) manifestation versus natural intuition and precognition (in various in-dream composite forms) is completely different in each individual, as everyone has a completely different path and ongoing perspective. Not expecting the death of Bob Crane at only 49 and also having “Logan’s Run” coincidentally rerun just prior to the “prototype” of my dream, and likely unknown or unrealized aspects or incidental connections or “triggers”, contributed to a very strange mix of composite precognition and “typical” dream mashups that oddly, can also be traced back to other causes which seem to be a sort of foreshadowing as well. I have noted a lot of people who have precognitive “mashups” (or odd, incongruous though precognitive composites too complex to be coincidental) who rarely notice or acknowledge them.

http://www.guntheranderson.com/v/data/pollutio.htm

http://www.rense.com/general83/911sc.htm

Morning of March 16, 1978. Thursday.





Dream Series: The Experience of Prescience, the Inexplicable Dream State Phenomenon. Part 5

---

A very attractive girl with green eyes and dark curly hair (who seems mostly of a composite of about ten percent Brenda and the rest, my “mystery girl”, who turned out to be Zsuzsanna) is living in an eerie-looking small house that is also somehow part of the orange tree in the southwest corner of the orange grove in Cubitis. I somehow had not noticed it before within the supposed history of my dream’s backstory, which seems to have been over a period of at least a month. There seems to be a long time period where I am mostly just thinking about this unusual structure and wondering if anyone lives there. (In actuality, it is a more realistic rendering of the tree house of “Miss Suzy” by Miriam Young, and an additional association with “Old Black Witch” by Wende and Harry Devlin. These are two books I treasured as a child, but so much so, I actually later mentally combined them into the same story.)

The girl and I later sit together on the concrete flower box (outside the front west jalousie windows of my room and where my mother mostly grew coleus blumei). She sits on my right. We talk for seemingly a long time about various subjects, as if we had been very good friends for a long time. I am very comfortable next to her despite her amazing beauty. She tells me that she had often been called a “bad witch”, partly because she was born on a Friday the thirteenth (in September). I want to reassure her, but I am not sure of the nature of what “bad witch” is implied to mean or her full story.

She attempts to do some sort of magic trick with a passing car that is headed south on Highway Seventeen, but instead of it working out as she had intended (the car changing into something else or changing its color perhaps?), the license plate from the front of a different car comes off, rotates in the air as it travels, and attaches itself to the back of the car she is focused on. I then amusingly say, “You’re kidding”, in a matter-of-fact recognition that she is known as a “bad witch” in meaning that she is not that good at performing magic rather than being “bad” as a person. I then start to teach her powerful magic through the rest of my dream, including some rather pointless juggling of oranges, as well as telekinesis, and she seems happy and grateful.

“Miss Suzy” (though I am not viably aware of the Miss Suzy story influence in my dream) tells me that she will write to me on March 16th in thirteen years, which is the marker for when Michael died in 1974. (It is also when Susan R “broke contact” with me and no longer “sent” as she had since we met, telling me the other girl “had more power”, even though the “mystery girl” was only in my dreams at this time, though it would not have worked out between Susan and I as she was a devout Christian, which is ironic as she was the only viably telepathic person I knew of until I learned Zsuzsanna was a real person). Zsuzsanna, going by Suzi in the shortened form, did indeed write to me on March 16, 1991, though I got her letter several days later. The license plate magic trick that supposedly was not what she intended, seems to be an analogy for contact from one person to another, as a license plate is rectangular and contains letters and numbers as does a posted letter. Zsuzsanna was born on Friday the 13th in September, 1968. It was me who wrote to her mother first in answering her mother’s newspaper advertisement (due to a dream advising me to do this), but Zsuzsanna immediately “recognized” me for who I was (from a photograph I sent her mother) and then wrote to me, also sending me a long poem (“These Lands I Must Travel”) that was identical to the nature of my hypnagogic dreams years previously. The PAIA newspaper was printed in Arcadia, just south of where I lived for years (and at the time of this dream), though somehow made its way to a small town in Australia.

---

Night of December 27, 1967. Wednesday.

Dream #: 373-02. Reading time: 1 min 10 sec.



It is late at night, possibly after midnight, and there is an eerie semi-darkness seemingly caused by a full moon. I am alone in an isolated rural area, probably near a farm. I am walking down an unknown dirt road near a cornfield with cornstalks about twice as tall as I am. I am aware that a rattlesnake is following me. It remains less than ten feet behind me as I am walking. The setting is not frightening, but I am concerned about the snake. (I get the impression that it may be in Wisconsin though I am living in Florida at the time.)

Soon, a big owl swoops down and grabs the snake in its talons and starts eating it. For a short time, I think maybe the owl will not win, as the snake seems wrapped around one wing of the owl. I get the impression that the owl did it to save me, but the event may have been coincidental. (The scene plays out with visuals from the Time-Life Nature Library book “The Birds.” My dream is extraordinarily vivid. I was close to being aware that I was dreaming. The owl coming down may have been a semi-lucid event regarding self-preservation.)

---

There were other dreams during this time relating to owls with eyes of two different colors (imagery also borrowed from “The Birds”). It is as if I am watching a virtual slideshow while incorporeal. One such dream came seemingly about half an hour to fifteen minutes before this one.

---

The image below is from a larger photograph taken on the 26th of December in 1967 at North Monroe Street in Florida. At the age of 7, I am holding the book that was the inspiration for this vivid dream.

---

Morning of November 12, 1967. Sunday.



My parents and I are living in what seems like a large, long, abandoned brick building, seemingly off a lesser-used back road (narrower end to the road), that could have served as a school at one time, such as a large Kindergarten venue. I am not sure what state it is in, probably Wisconsin and in a rural area of La Crosse. There is also the idea that my sister Marilyn (unmarried in my dream?) and brother Jim may also be living there. There are no other buildings around and I do not see any cars anywhere. It is mostly like an open field outside of our home. I do not actually see my parents or relatives.

There are a lot of outer (oriented inward) corners where outside walls join. A large bee is in one of these inward-oriented corners. There are sparse (pale violet) wildflowers here and there around the building, but mostly sparse grass, both green and dry, as high as seven inches or so in some spots. I walk around outside and am somewhat concerned about the bee following me or possibly even stinging me. This does not happen, though. I try not to do anything that will draw the bee’s attention even when it is on the other side of the building. Also, at a couple points, I can carefully look around a wall to an inward-corner to tell if the bee is in that particular area or not.

---

This was related to a real life event and a comment by my brother Jim regarding bees; “If you leave them alone, they will leave you alone”. I try to hold onto that idea in my dream, the idea of which probably created my dream to test that theory in the first place, thus this dream has been “explained” as a “testing ground”. Evidence: Isolated field and school-like building. The inward-corners almost like a “two-sided box” to check progress now and then.

---

“The flower doesn’t dream of the bee. It blossoms and the bee comes.” - Mark Nepo

Morning of September 24, 1977. Saturday.



This was another very long dream that I had as a teenager. It was one of those “I’m in a very long movie” dreams, complete with music, and sometimes even beginning and ending credits as often happened when younger. Girls are vanishing from beaches near Sanibel Island. The soundtrack (beginning one and ending one) is the theme from “She Waits” (1972 TV movie with Patty Duke that has nothing to do with uncharted islands or dragons). The boat moves along, somewhat in an arc. Somehow we get knocked out (Toby and I) in an attack by the dragon-creature near the beginning of my dream (a gas can hits our heads in one version), but we don’t know what it is until much later. So, while we are “asleep” within my dream, and the speed-boat continuing on its own, we end up at the Isle of Bailiwick.

There had been reports of a creature of some kind that attacked one girl. Brenda B (not Brenda W), a girl I knew, was the most recent victim. My best friend Toby T and I set out to try to solve the mystery. It has something to do with the so-called Bermuda Triangle. But we end up on an island filled with; you guessed it, only girls. Of course they are wearing clam shells as “bras” and seaweed and seashell-based jewellery. They worship a dragon-like creature that is somewhat like an alligator but a bit bigger. There is one scene where I am climbing on the rocks, and I am “attacked” but it is more like a movie scene. It reminds me somewhat of the cardboard alligator (made mostly with cardboard boxes) used in a school play in real life years prior, which was dragged along with unseen strings by the Captain Hook character. When it opens its mouth, it does seem a bit “fake”. I move about on the steep, jagged black rocks along the shore, though, wondering if I will escape the island and get back to our boat. Indeed, it does seem for a short time that I am making its mouth move with arm motions and unseen strings as it hisses.

Toby and I are tied up with seaweed “rope” to a tall wooden post, back to back, inside of some sort of old stone structure on the island. The girls are lead by LR, someone who is somewhat dominating, but a bit crazy and meandering in real life, even to this day, with hardly any memory of anything in her youth (or so she told me recently). There is one area that is sort of like an unfinished artesian well, with the water coming up to about “floor” level (somewhat like cobblestone). I see bubbles and such, but the well is too small for the dragon-alligator to come up, only for the girls to sing to her in prayer and appreciation (very similar to the movie “Voyage to the Planet of Prehistoric Women” from 1968). I can hear the sounds of the creature echoing, though, “she” travels through underground caverns - filled with ocean water and some fresh water areas - under the island.

I am freed from the ropes near the first part of my dream and taken away to a different area and have to…interact with each member of the “tribe” including Sandra R and Patty A, oddly, in different rooms set up somewhat like a hotel! However, it means my eventual death, I assume, or at least not much else to do for a long time. I do not interact much with the leader, though, as I don’t really like her much (and there are other girls who do not like her or who just want to go home - that is, the ones who remember lives outside the island cult). It is like a “dragon mother” cult, where even babies are sometimes stolen from coastal towns and brainwashed into the fairly simple cult mentality, needlessly based on survival in a primitive place, when modern towns and medical supplies are within a boat trip (the leader allows some to die in childbirth instead of using modern medicine - boy babies are mostly sent to coastal town orphanages on some sort of primitive raft). Toby somehow escapes but returns later.

Eventually, everything blows up (some sort of feedback loop from fire from the “alligator-dragon” going into the place-of-worship “well” area, and me tricking it to go a certain direction). Some girls survive, though. We (Toby and I) return on the original small motorboat, and life goes on.

Morning of September 17, 1977. Saturday.



This was of a new period of lucid dreaming for me as well as higher vividness. 1977 was an unusual year for this. In my dream, I had fallen asleep on the living room couch (I had absentmindedly written “leaving room” instead of “living room” in the original entry). Through the glass panes of my atypical bedroom door (which did not close normally but rather squeezed into the doorway with some noisy difficulty), I see an unusual variation of the mystery girl. The level of vividness is extreme and fully in-body and I try to control my in-dream breathing a bit more than usual. I watch her through the glass as the glass panes seem much bigger than in reality (seeming to “grow”, actually). She is making references to riding the carousel with her…an actual carousel somehow in my room (or on the other side of the “mirror” aka window panes), although there is minor influence from having seen the first episode of “Logan’s Run” (the television series). In that show, the carousel meant death (at the age of thirty) but in the dream, it is only slightly ominous. There is a lot of in-dream “energy” or “vibration” that mostly only occurred in particular dream-types related to the mystery girl.

Over time, the carousel takes on a strange appearance, somewhat like a round, rotating wooden dock, almost like a circular version of part of the “Gunsmoke” set, as if the carousel was somewhat like a soap bubble where parts of it faded over time before it vanished completely. The imagery of this part of the dream came to match exactly - a large drawing my wife’s mother had done in Nimbin (with several copies in her family) long before I saw it in reality (and regardless of the high unlikelihood of someone making a drawing of that nature, which incidentally also included the theme of a divine or “twin soul” marriage - I mean, who else would associate a rotating carousel with nuances of a rotating circular “Gunsmoke” set or “ghost town”?). In real-life, the carousel my wife had actually been on during that same time was eventually dismantled (in Australia) and ended up where I lived in America, any of these things being the tip of the iceberg in thousands of unlikely parallels and precognitive nuances.

In my dream, I end up going through the glass somehow. I end up in some sort of business office where a group called “IRO” (possibly based on a fictional in-dream name of a male named Iro?) is holding a meeting about an upcoming novel called “Reflections”, which was apparently going to be written by the mystery girl (yet remain unpublished in “my” dimension - it was as if I was in an “alternate version of the future”). There is a discussion relating to refugees from Hungary, though at the time I had no conscious associations with “International Refugee Organization” and did not even think about the additional significance until many years later. (My wife’s father was technically a refugee during the Roma “ethnic cleansing” and escaped to Australia). (In real life, my wife had also written an unpublished novel called “Reflections” before I ever made real-life contact with her, continuing my usual tip-of-the-iceberg run.)

It seems unusual for me to be where I am and I wonder if I should stay, though I get the impression I would miss out on ten or more years of my life. I engage in a conversation with one male who asks me why I am able to focus on my dreams (and “other dimensions”) so well and document them and research as much as possible, to “solve” things. I tell him that if I had not done so, I would only seem to be “half here”. I must be an exception to the rule. Billions of other people do not seem to have that interest in being “complete” or actively in search of purpose. I am not sure if the male leader is called Iro or again if it is just a group name. I also get the impression of a younger sister of the mystery girl being called Rugboe. However, this comes to be a distortion of “Rugby”, which I did not learn of until years later (after moving to Australia).

A male asks me if I think that other people actually exist on “my” side other then myself, my “predestined” mate, and a handful of other people and I am not sure what he means. It almost seems like this other in-dream “pocket world” is only a business building where about six or seven men exist, forever in a “business meeting” of sorts.

Eventually, I understand that I cannot stay in this “other realm” much longer. There is a vague awareness that it is “parallel” to my Cubitis bedroom and I even seem to be in my room as such at times (many in-dream locations, as well as more often being composites, sometimes seem to “hold” two or more places at the same time while also existing in their own space). I do have more parts of the “puzzle”, though. I decide to think about this mystery girl again, and her unpublished “Reflections” novel. Maybe I will actually meet her one day…the carousel event and “Little Red Feather” being two other clues. The man asks me if “Little Red Feather” is my “real name” and I answer with no, not at all, it is the name of a toy plastic figure given to me by a cousin (Evelyn W) when I was six. I suppose the mystery girl is puzzled at this.

…particularity as my yet-to-be wife had an “imaginary” playmate of that name in Australia at the time…long before we made “real” contact…

There are certain things you never come back from, and which you cannot “unlearn” no matter how many millions of people “exist differently”.

Night of September 13, 1977. Tuesday.



In real life, my father had come home from his work rather early and came into my room to give me a book. “She told me to give this to you,” he said. Who did he mean? Jenny? Likely not. My father would not have directed any attention to the concept of ghosts at that point, especially “fresh” ghosts, ghosts only about a month old. “I found it in the window seat,” he said. He said it was the only thing on the property. Anywhere. It was a children’s book about a white kangaroo. I did not ask him who “she” was or who he thought the book had belonged to. He went back to work, riding there on his bicycle, a considerable distance (I had no idea why he felt the need to do this), working for a dollar an hour when everyone else was earning five or more. For his age, his stamina was incredible, including when he rode a bicycle across the United States, twice, in his seventies.

Even though I was sixteen and the book was obviously for a much younger age group, I kept it for awhile, though it did not make the journey to Wisconsin with me. Looking over my dream journals at the time, I discovered two older dreams about a “cataroo”, both on September 13th, one in 1973, the other in 1974. As the “cataroo” (upper half of cat, back half of kangaroo) rescued me in one dream, this “white kangaroo” business seemed benevolent and somehow reassuring. Still, it was an intriguing “coincidence”. This was before I came to learn how to trace precise synchronicity-based layers over the years that seemed “drawn” to a particular date for whatever reason. I came to think that it could possibly “explain” some aspects of precognition, but still did not explain “non-local mind” or remote viewing. After all, many people know that Christmas will arrive on the 25th of December. How difficult is that? Apparently too difficult a concept for the majority.

In my dream, I think of my father exploring the mostly empty recesses of either ruined lives or those who could not settle down and for whatever reason had to move on. (“You stay out of my piccalilli farrago!” What? No exploration allowed? Did curiosity ever actually kill a cat?) Each and every person left behind one thing. Only one item. Perhaps one “clue” to use as a “key” for whatever purpose. Not all dreams are like this of course, but those that remain with certain persistent residual feelings and seeming links that others would never see even if they studied something for centuries.

At this point in my life (age sixteen, in September of 1977), I saw the world, for the most part, as jealous, murderous, and completely insane - and with very good reason. Those who were not insane were innocent and refused to do a single thing against the dominant problematic aggressors. Whoever you interacted with could easily be “removed”. Even after countless warnings and direct signs, no one listened.

My dream girl aka “imaginary girlfriend” as best friend Toby called her (though he did have honest interest in my dream work, unlike some) noted the white kangaroo book. She told me she would “hold one for me” when I was to make contact with her in the “real” world (whatever that is) years from then. She said her human form would not necessarily realize this. Her angelic goddess essence would always be present…somewhere. It seems funny to hear a dream character talking about their “human form”. It was not that I would ever need “confirmation”. The “clues” I knew of were already virtually endless. If I had started to write every miraculous “coincidence” that came directly to me, I would never stop writing.

The voices of truth cannot be silenced. People can lie. People can pretend. People deny that love exists. People deny that anything beyond mundane human life exists (and thus even their “dreams” are mundane and linear). Some people seem to enjoy denying the universe itself. Perhaps they even deny the existence of life itself.

Morning of September 6, 1977. Tuesday.



This was a long dream as a teen (seemingly with a few “resets” in the first versions), first dreamt in Cubitis in 1977. It recurred many times over several years (until the movie “The Fly” 1986 version was released and in which a scene matched my much older dream). The “soundtrack” of later versions was the music from the movie “The Black Hole” (1979) which I had the soundtrack record of.

Lisa M and her family are moving back to Cubitis, having driven down Highway Seventeen from the south, though I am not sure why. It is seemingly midnight or just after when they pull stealthily into their driveway (of tiny broken up seashells, bits of clam shells, and sand). I run and inform my parents regardless of the later hour, with somewhat of a sense of awe. (In reality, ironically, she had begun public high school for the first time after her family moved - the same one I would have went to - but shortly after I stopped going.)

In my dream, a fictional song called “Grasshopper” (supposedly by Kenny Rogers) was part of my “dream-movie’s” background music in later versions. (Two of the lines of the song were “When we were kids we used to play in the backyard” and “Grasshopper, grasshopper, come back to me” - slightly similar to the melody of “Matchmaker” from “Fiddler on the Roof” - possible association with the grasshopper fiddling in the “Ant and the Grasshopper” fable.)

Over time, I learn of some unusual and disturbing issues; “this” Lisa was not the “original” Lisa; at one point, something to do with being right-handed or left-handed due to an injury from doing cartwheels, I think, which is based on a distorted memory of a story about losing virginity when doing too many cartwheels or riding a horse. The “new” Lisa is some sort of shape-shifting creature, possibly from another planet (though this is not certain). The grasshopper as a deuteragonist may be associated with Jiminy Cricket relative to morals and conscience (or presumed guilt), though greatly augmented.

Later, a human skeleton is found in the concrete flower-box in front of where my bedroom is (outer west-most wall) when some new coleus plants are to be put in by my mother. Surprisingly, it turns out to be the real Lisa’s skeletal remains. It seems that the creature had somehow taken at least partial control of the parents to move “back home” to produce offspring. This mind control wears off at one point. (The focus on death is likely more about Jenny C, who was murdered about a month earlier by another male a couple years younger than me). This also loosely foreshadowed a real-life experience I had while fishing one morning. My mother had used plastic milk jugs as filler for the flower box. When I reeled my line in at one point, I mistook a plastic milk jug filled with sediment for a human skull, which gave me palpitations a temporary shock.

The fake Lisa had vanished when the news was spread about the shape-shifting alien invader. I later (for reasons I am not certain of) communicate with her again very late at night. It turns out that the real Lisa had been deliberately replaced by the female grasshopper-like creature that could mimic people (much like the movie “Mimic” that came out years later but the creature being far more human-like in my dream).

Earlier versions of my dream ended with the same scene as in the new version of “The Fly” (1986) where the large insect “foot”/leg moves out and comes down in the same way with the same timing, personal mood and reflection, and “color” upon my seeing the movie for the first time. There is one final scene where a small white shaggy dog (unknown Maltese) is barking at the creature as I fall backwards in my presumed “death”. (This turns out to have been precognitive of my wife’s life as related in the June 2014 dream “A Long Journey with my Wife”.)

Parts of later versions of my dream seemed similar to scenes from “Five Million Years to Earth” (1967) as well (“Quatermass and the Pit”). She becomes a mother and produces thousands of locust-like creatures that destroy the world; nothing but empty trees and bare ground as far as the eye can see, which again, uses the soundtrack from “The Black Hole” (same ending theme to my “dream movie”). Grasshopper-like creatures leap around almost like a sense of playful horses from an underside view, but…no more people, ever (other than myself). (There is no logical pondering of what will happen when all the vegetation is gone, which would likely be not that far into the future as I already see a lot of leafless trees over the infested landscape.)

Morning of August 25, 1967. Friday.



Location (both in real life and in first versions of dream): Rose Street (and surrounding area), La Crosse, Wisconsin, USA - the apartment building that mostly served as a tavern below (a venue where my father sometimes performed) and apartments above, which was struck by lightning and burned to the ground years later, after I returned to Wisconsin.

Real-life Associations: Wendy the Good Little Witch comic book number 45 as shown here, with, I think, a news agency stamp of August 17th, 1967 (“publish date”, which is sometimes several months ahead the release date, listed as December 1967).

Characters: Me, the young version of Alice Liddell (the real “Alice in Wonderland”, 1852-1934) as Wendy the Good Little Witch in “real” human form (recurring - I cannot presently recall a dream-witch who did not have black hair - she also wore a blue outfit rather than red - sorry Harvey fans, blonde witches just never seemed “right” for some reason), and a few random adults. Interestingly my wife had a very similar haircut around that same age, so that is just another intriguing familiarity, I guess.

This was the first occurrence of the “rain shield”. The first version of the rain shield or “bubble” shield was in the Pepto-Bismol pink I have mentioned in other entries. I could have lived without it, I suppose. I have not had pink as a dominating color in my dreams very often since late childhood. Blue has mostly been the most outstanding. At any rate, it was mostly about being “protected” from the rain in several recurring dreams this way, and it eventually became one of my own recurring dream abilities after moving back to Florida. Sometimes, it was a special wristwatch I wore (when it was not just “mind-power” or magic), which of course was a special variation of the 1967 Omega Seamaster, which could also allow the wearer and anyone he held hands with to walk on the ocean floor (which was less common than the walking and flying in the rain dreams, but to be honest, I actually liked walking and flying in the rain in some other dreams).

The shield was mostly egg-shaped and transparent, extending out about three feet from me and whoever I was with. I still had one dream of it now and then at age twelve. These were some of my more vivid and (lucid) self-reflecting dreams, which were eventually “replaced” by the flying in a cloak in the dead of night dreams - which tended to have the same overall amazing mood and feelings of peace and bliss.

Historically speaking, this was the day (25th) that a certain Nazi Party founder was killed at a laundromat in the US. Not knowing any better, I told an older girl (D. Rockwell) I knew at the time how sorry I was that her father was shot at the laundromat. Obviously, this was no close relation, so she looked at me in a very puzzled manner.

Morning of August 15, 1967. Tuesday. (Daughter Amelia’s birthday in 1998.) Rough overhead “map” now included. Confusion stems from the fact that Amelia is supposedly in the airplane as well as on the ground with me (though on one level it may be her spirit on the ground with me rather than her implied physical form otherwise “duplicated” in the airplane) and we are facing away from the event even though it is also “clear” that we are watching it somehow.



I dreamt of being in my yard with Amelia Earhart. This is in the southern part of my yard at North Monroe Street in Florida. We are facing directly to the south even though the plane seems to need to be viewed north of us, but it seems as if I am (while disembodied) viewing the scene at one point from south of where I (physical form) am standing, my “real” incorporeal self looking northward and seeing myself (that is, my “real” incorporeal me - and my actual view - is facing the other dream-rendering of me in my physical form) and the plane is gong down to the left from my “real” view - yet she acknowledges this as if facing the event (rather than it being behind her as it is in my dream view). Amelia stands on my “other self’s” right. An old-fashioned Lockheed plane is going down diagonally in the sky as if in distress, with sparse smoke trailing behind it somewhat. I am somehow aware that she is my mother, even though I am informed by her that she is my daughter, which creates an intense puzzlement in the dream state, as it was also as if she was watching her own plane (with her own self in it) burning out and falling from the sky (with the likelihood of crashing somewhere in the distance). She is telling me how she crashed (or possibly only landed roughly without that much damage) on an island and something about the Japanese possibly shooting her down. There is an unusual mood that she may have been my “real mother” (possibly implied by the idea that on this date Will Rogers, a relative on my mother’s side, died in an airplane crash with Wiley Post, the first pilot to fly solo around the world and Amelia wanted to be the first woman to do this). Near the end, the imagery of Amelia and myself takes on a sort of grainy monotone appearance.

In real life, before we met, Zsuzsanna and I had decided our first daughter (if we had one) would be called “Amelia”, but not because of my dream (and it was in fact the name Zsuzsanna already chose and gave me over the telephone before she knew of “my” Amelia and dream history). At any rate, the August 15th marker regarding the foreshadowing of my daughter’s birth exists every year from earliest childhood up to the time she was born, as do most precognitive markers and is something I have never seen other people honestly address (other than with shortsighted denial and no viable understanding of dreams).

For a closer look at this dream and its real (native) meaning (as well as lifelong markers that many dreams have as well as unexplainable synchronicity related in the next paragraph), it is a very basic and very common (for me) “failed flight” waking transition; that is, something falling from the sky as representing the dreamer waking up (a subtle variation of the primary biological waking mechanism sometimes inclusive of a falling sensation and a hypnic jerk). The airplane (which most often represents a deeper potential of the dream state) is on fire because fire also represents light of day and dawning consciousness in this case. “Failed flight” does not typically mean anything negative as it simply means naturally waking from the “flight” (and “displacement”) of a dream (and this same waking transition can be seen in tens of thousands of other dreams, including those with meteors which is directly analogous to this dream’s content as well).

Additional layers and long-term markers: Wiley Post and Will Rogers (my mother’s cousin) died on this date in a plane crash (and information on my family connections, father as well as mother, can be found in books such as “The Papers of Will Rogers: From vaudeville to Broadway” and “Cowgirls of the Rodeo”). That does not invalidate the synchronicity with our daughter’s birth date; in fact, it confirms it since there are over fifty other date-relevant markers for her birth, most prior to my meeting Zsuzsanna.

Morning of August 3, 1967. Thursday.



This is probably my first vivid plesiosaurus dream. It mostly involves the “coming to life” of a two-page painting spread which I think was inspired by a book in real life previously (though I have not tracked down the source). It involved a very vivid and long event of a plesiosaurus fighting with an ichthyosaurus. There was a lot of color and well-rendered detail. I was seemingly not in any danger at any point; it was more as if I was floating about or hovering, watching the event as if it was some sort of amazing holographic movie. At times, I was aware of being in a large sailboat on my own on a calm sunny afternoon, though, and watching and feeling the movement of the big waves (caused by the fight) hitting my sailboat. There were times when I felt joy in looking up at these creatures from my sailboat. It seemed that no other person was around for many miles. This was like a special private enjoyment. There were minor degrees of semi-lucidity at times. The closest shore was seemingly west, though I had thoughts that I was traveling southeast.

Morning of July 15, 1977. Friday.



This dream was on the morning after drinking a small amount of beer from my brother-in-law Mel who was visiting from Wisconsin. It was titled “The Beam” in my original dream journal as well.

I am walking out to the highway (Highway Seventeen - the original route before the name was changed to NE Cubitis Avenue) with my father very late at night (or very early in the morning before dawn). I notice a partly melted bicycle just off the highway (about half on the wayside) that a very thin beam (like a laser beam) was shining onto, going into the handlebars. I also notice that a small part of the highway itself is like liquid as it is beginning to melt, sizzle, and bubble. I am aware that this beam is eventually going to melt everything in its path and is potentially very dangerous for some of the world and will likely continue to be problematic for a long time. There is no real sense of danger regarding my own safety though, or that of our home, at least for the time being. Its path at this point seems to be mostly down the highway to the north. I am not certain of its origin and not exactly sure if the bicycle is implied to be mine or my father’s.

---

The meaning of this dream is basically the same as thousands of others I have documented, studied, and decoded and is anticipatory autosymbolism for waking into the light of day, more specifically via the emergent consciousness, seeking out the dream self for coalescence and to “save” the experience and perspective of the dream state. The same template and components, with the same meaning, are easily seen and recognized in dreams like “The Tadpole’s Ghost”, “Laser-Eyed Alligator”, and many others, though are more passive in dreams like “The Day There Was No Sun” where the role and active threads of the dream self and conscious self are slightly different, which probably depends on circadian rhythms and the time (and the date) of the dream.

Curiously, the highway begins to take on properties of another typical dream conduit, the river, though I have no perception of bilocation in this dream. The highway in this case seems to be “melting”. It is almost as if the “light of day” beam of the emergent consciousness is changing the dream setting for a “smoother” flow into the waking state by transforming it into the river conduit but this potential does not complete. The melted bicycle has been validated as a symbol for alcohol intake. As little alcohol as I have had in my life (even at my present age) it always triggered the appearance of a bicycle in a dream, almost always partly melted as here. This can be understood to mean that alcohol alters both balance and direction of thoughts and also alters the linear and more stable nature of decision-making.

---

Morning of April 9, 1977. Saturday.



This first part is part of a much longer dream series - the “Zane Master Zeff” cluster, but involves a sort of monster-chase as one of the last parts of the scenes of this particular “set”. I am having a sort of shape-shifting “battle” with another shape-shifter. It starts when I am at the middle school on the southeast area of the grounds (but fairly close to the building) and a tyrannosaurus seems to threaten me (this being a form of the “Zane Master Zeff”). I vividly grow as tall as the tyrannosaurus (recurring) and punch him in the “face” and he falls back but is not defeated. We become different things including giant snakes and back to dinosaurs again - for some reason, he even becomes a brontosaurus in a manner that suggests that he is now the probable “victim” in the battle for a time, but eventually is the tyrannosaurus again for a very short time. (This is partially left over from earlier childhood dreams where I enjoyed being a giant and fighting with another giant, knocking over buildings, etc.)

After a time, the other tyrannosaurus is no longer in view. I look down and see that he is now actually a shorter but human-sized version of the Nebbish from Crazy Magazine and he is waddling off to escape. For a moment I think that I could just step on him, but I let him waddle off, seeing the top view of his unusual hat and apparent nervous shaking. (“The Nebbish” may not be his “true form”, though, even though it seems as such for a time.)

I have decided to include some of the main body (at least in partial summary) of this seeming series here. I had assumed and finally decided (in my twenties) that the “evil” character’s name, Zane Master Zeff, was possibly a distortion of Zen Master Jeff or Zen Master Seth. This character was my nemesis and a shape-shifter as described in my dream above. It may also be a relevant play (or misremembered pattern) on Zane Grey, the writer, though possibly even a play on “zany”.

In my last relative dream, I finally defeat him and in the last part of my dream, I see myself sitting on a throne on a platform above a flight of steps. I hear myself say “I sit on the throne and lo…I am the Zane Master Zeff” which seems to indicate some sort of ironic or odd ending (as if the character had been playing me somehow or possibly a different odd or ambiguous twist).

The main theme seems to be protecting my wife (the “mystery girl”) and fictional family. Even though we had supposedly just been married, time shifts and we have five or six children. However, I seem to move through a time distortion of this supposed destiny (because of the “evil magic” of Zane Master Zeff) and my family transforms into an image of high grasses near the wayside of a dirt road. It is very vivid, and my fictional wife and children seem very vivid. This imagery of a fictional family of a wife and children transforming into tall grasses by a roadside continued on and off for years. Sometimes I even felt quite sad, even “guilty” about it. It is interesting how I actually did come to marry and have several children - something that adds up to far more than self-fulfilling prophecy considering all the other evidence I have lived through by direct experience.

This dream, in some ways, turned out to be date-specific precognitive. I also now have five children (updated in 2015). There really did seem to be a lot of “dark forces” (for lack of a better term) working against my new family at the beginning, mostly caused by my wife’s disturbed mother (many lies and manipulation of government and authority and even fabrication of medical concerns, though she did succeed in taking my wife’s sister’s child without any intervention by authority whatsoever and basically ruined - and still controls - her life). It is also interesting that my wife has an “unlikely” two of the letter “Z” in her first name. There were numerous similar dreams regarding this theme, also precognitive.

Morning of April 8, 1967. Saturday.



I am in a featureless and seemingly barren landscape with the zigzagging path (recurring). In the background, it seems almost as if the horizon is “fake” or part of a theater backdrop.

A pair of boots walks more to the right side of the scene, and forwards toward me. This is not nightmarish, but quite eerie. It may relate to the idea of “filling the shoes of my father”. Because I was only six at the time, I am not sure about any viable associations, though.

Morning of April 2, 1967. Sunday.



When I was much younger in my dream work (around age nine), I had later tried to recall or determine associations with this recurring one as if it might have been based on an obscure real-life memory (even though only a few years had passed at the time since living in Wisconsin), though that does seem somewhat unlikely.

My parents and I visit, a few times, an old married couple on seemingly the west side of the street, possibly Third Street in La Crosse. They live in what seemingly used to be a large clothing store and the one large room is mostly their living area. The storefront door and windows (and now empty window display area) are mostly always blocked from the inside with multicolored velvety curtains. It is still mostly a commercial area of the city, though.

The old couple typically sit at a smaller dining room table, right next to the wall, man facing west and woman facing east, where there is a small bowl in the middle of the table (though sometimes a plant pot) that catches rainwater from a leak (though it does not have to still be raining at the time). The leak is usually only one drop at a time. For some reason, the whole scene and living area does not seem unusual at all. We usually visit them around nine in the morning or earlier.

It seems possible that my dream was built by associations with the “Jack Sprat” poem (possibly the only association I had at the time with an older couple at a table in this manner), the “Don’t Let the Rain Come Down” song (Serendipity Singers 1964 version), and an actual one-time visit to an older couple in the city. Still, this is one of the mysteries from older dream work as it somehow seems more relative to a real memory and place, which for some reason, is more elusive than much clearer memories from this time period. I usually kept my dream work secret (mostly due to believing that published works about dreams were all completely wrong), so did not ask my parents. It could be a composite memory of two places we frequented in reality.