memorable

Night of September 9, 1976. Thursday.



One of the worst nights of pain based on the operation on my right thumb (on the 25th of August) and wrist (and much tissue removed), a cobra strikes me on my thumb in my dream, extraordinarily vivid and bright in the backyard (Cubitis), seemingly in early morning.

Finally, my mother gives me a stronger painkiller again and I slip into an extraordinarily vivid and lucid dream. I am rolling down an embankment head over heals, along a grassy hillside, doing “perfect” somersaults with no physical discomfort whatsoever, and in fact, feeling quite peaceful and blissful. I roll into a river of mist. It looks like a normal river and in an otherwise normal meadow-like area, but instead is made of flowing foggy tendrils instead of running water. I am heading into a “bottomless” domain, much like Alice on morphine, I suppose, and am completely free from all discomfort and concern.

I “land” softly in a hallway after moving downwards through the mist for a seemingly long time, which appears to be the set for some sort of avant-garde movie called “Hello Harry”. It is about a young businessman who dies at an early age on his birthday (late twenties, I think). All of the other workers at the business, both male and female (but mostly male) benefit only from his work (and do little themselves) - yet he is mostly disliked by his business associates. This seems to imply that the business will now fail since he has died (though he is not the manager - there may be some sort of very subtle connection to “Gunga Din” by vague implications), without the other associates knowing or acknowledging his role in keeping the business going, possibly as the best or most dynamic salesman (and may actually come in part from having read “Death of a Salesman” at an earlier date, as I did read the 1949 play sometime during this period). He only has one good friend who mourns him. I “float” into a room with concrete walls and floor and see that the man who had been his friend is drinking too much from a bottle of gin and “celebrating” his friend’s birthday while wearing a multicolored cone-shaped cardboard hat (with red “V” or boomerang shapes) and a red tinsel lei. The remains are in a coffin in an adjoining smaller room. The rooms are mostly featureless and appear to be part of some sort of large basement, but possibly in the commercial building where he died. (It is possible he may be cremated in the business’s furnace, but I am not certain.)

The man (name unknown, I only know the dead man’s name is Harry - the other man could be Willy) goes into the smaller room and places a cocktail glass of gin on the coffin and takes one final drink from his cocktail glass and slowly and mournfully sings (to Harry) “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you…” (obviously not expecting an “answer” of any kind, as he is the only one there and the other man has died the day or so before).

However, a clear voice comes from the closed coffin and it is supposedly Harry (even though he has actually died) also mournfully singing…“Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me…”

This is the last scene and it seems to have some sort of science-fiction-like theme as well as the avant-garde movie essence.

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Night of August 18, 1966. Thursday.



This is probably one of my first more precisely documented dreams over time. It was recurring and lucid in some versions. One might think this would be a nightmare, but not even close, just a sense of childlike awe and wonder and likely my first tulpa-creating attempt within a dream state.

My dream usually starts at the Concordia Ballroom (at 1129 La Crosse Street) where my father often performed in real life. It is fairly late at night. I danced there in reality at the time, but in my dream, things are quite different. The Concordia building seems to be oriented perpendicular to actuality. There are also a lot of cars that seem more of a late 1940s style than the 1960s.

Not only that, I end up wandering off into the darkness, yet seeing that a large barn…yes…a barn - exists just down the street a short distance from the Concordia Ballroom.

In the barn it is semi-dark. Cobras are certainly not to be found in Wisconsin (in the wild, anyway), but there is a cobra in the hayloft (and only ever one). It is mostly black with a bit of yellowish orange. In some versions (even later on, as it got colder in real life), I wait expectantly, but wake up before it appears (almost as if it had to appear before I could leave my dream with “better confidence” - hard to explain). Sometimes it seems to be a long time for me to be standing there. No drama happens. No one comes looking for me. I do not think of climbing up to the hayloft at all. The cobra is high above in the hayloft, upright, around the middle area, and is no real threat. There seems to be a mystical atmosphere over the whole time period with similar dreams.

Night of August 13, 1976. Friday.



I am within a continuity of false awakenings. There is a somewhat uneasy sense that someone else - a stranger - had somehow gotten into the house. This is unrealistic, as my bed is actually blocking the unused jalousie-window door to the carport (which opens inward). However, there is a shadowy form that I am sure is an intruder. It turns out to be a balding man in a loose, white, robe-like outfit and with some sort of medical kit in a metallic brief case, similar in size and shape to my real-life typewriter case which I then used for part of my Matchbox car, Johnny Lightning, and Hot Wheels collection. For some reason, I get the impression that he is “from Saturn” even though he seems fully human and from Earth. This seems based on some sot of hypnotic muttering he continues with and it is something to do with male surrogate “pregnancy” for an experimental reptile-like offspring, the area of the thumb being the ideal location for several reasons (including a natural tendency to draw the hand forward in defense). I seem to be part of some sort of unorthodox experiment conducted by a publicly unrevealed department of government.

I am unable to move or react as I am in a state of sleep paralysis, but not as vivid as usual. He injects something into my right thumb. I feel I need to escape as soon as possible. The utensil he uses is like a cross between a hypodermic needle, an ankh, and small scissors. There are various other objects similar to this in his case. I somehow manage to get out of my bed and try to get into the living room, but my dream “resets” and repeats a few times, and there is eventually a perception of needles moving on their own towards my right thumb, though possibly relating to some sort of implied magnetic remote control. They seem to fly “in formation” (like a flock of birds in a V-shape) at one point.

This, being one of the few actually disturbing dreams I have had in my life, was part of a relentless change. A few days later in real life, there was a rather small lump growing from the outer side of my right thumb which I only absentmindedly noticed when playing around with a metal band from a cheaper dismantled microphone and wondering why it had not fit on my thumb as it had the day before. Within days, there were five very large egg-shaped lumps (all exactly the same size) going down from my thumb to my wrist. They were apparently atypical ganglion cysts but had hair and bone tissue mixed in (almost like a miniature part of a Siamese twin). The doctor seemed extremely puzzled about the condition of my hand, asked me some unusual questions such as if I had “been putting things in there” which seemed ludicrous to me as there were no signs of cuts or supposed entry points and I certainly would not do something of that nature.

Because of the surgery and hospital stay, I missed the beginning of tenth grade, and eventually (when returning on September 13th), due to problematic scenarios in the school (such as a couple teachers not even spending time in the classroom while the students went crazy throwing knives and orange peels) I no longer went (stopping in October before I was legally “allowed” to though there was only one visit from the police) and got my GED in Wisconsin in 1979, getting told I had the highest results by any student at that time - which was not saying much based on how the other students looked and acted.

This also related directly to a much older precognitive dream (with several levels of precognition at once including seeing a movie that did not even exist at that earlier time - the usually low-rated one with the giant rabbits called “Night of the Lepus”). There was a lot of legitimate mystery around this and I have mentioned this in a few other entries, including in the original “Old Shack” dream documentation.

We left Florida in the last week of June of 1978 (with help from my sister Marilyn and her husband Bob). Looking at Google maps, I have discovered that my playmate’s house turned out to look exactly like it did in many of my earlier dreams - that is, abandoned, mold all over, and covered with vines. No one had lived there very long after my spiritual “outburst” after she moved (two different families actually going in for psychiatric help - Larry D actually killing most of his chickens, some escaping, after giving them a long speech about “not delivering eggs as promised”).

Whether or not this was based on long-term physical precognition (or some sort of natural cellular awareness) because of the additional childhood dream of my right thumb becoming enlarged and painful or perhaps was additionally triggered by a vivid dream state (and the very strange sounds and energies that come with sleep paralysis), is hard to say. I know I have often healed myself in dreams and meditation (even as a toddler regarding the accident with my left wrist and almost losing that hand), so I suppose the opposite is just as possible or even likely, even with the foreshadowing many years ahead.

Morning of July 5, 1966. Tuesday.



This was recurring from this time period (after the Fourth of July in 1966) associated with an actual visit to a park; Veterans Memorial Park Campground in Wisconsin. My older sister Carol (half-sister on mother’s side) seems the strongest presence in my dreams for a time, with other older relatives also in the area including my older brother Jim (though only relatives from my mother’s side) and usually no other (either generic or unknown) additional characters. The area seems more isolated than in reality and somewhat bushy though there is an open area where a large house supposedly once stood. All that is left is the fireplace and part of the chimney. However, there is ambiguity here in that it also seems like a brick barbecue deliberately made for the park or at least is apparently mistaken for one or considered as such according to my dream’s back story. There is some uncertainty whether or not to use it or to look for another one (even though no one seems to be carrying food or other supplies). There were several variations of this dream, not that well-documented as I was only five years old at the time, though it is one of my first known recurring dreams. This dream series may have just been caused by a visual association; that is, the similar appearance between a residential fireplace (especially from actual ruins I likely would have have seen) and an outside brick barbecue. I am glad I have these wondrous memories.

Morning of July 4, 1976. Sunday.



There is something called a “time divergence” (my original 1976 dream journal title being “Time Diverge”, which I changed after more fully understanding “diverge” was only used as a verb while “divergence” was the event itself and sounded better as a proper title) which is based around my Cubitis home. This has something to do with the appearance of a black sheepdog, at times, carrying a miniature keg as in some cartoons. Time breaks off into a different timeline whenever this black sheepdog makes an entry from somewhere (from near or off Highway Seventeen to the west). All of the spirits of all of the United States presidents (or at least the more respected or more familiar ones) meet in my living room around a large rectangular table (longways north to south from the north wall), to plan how they may inspire or help humanity. I play the “shadow game” (testing to see if a shadow that is matching my movements in my dream is really mine - though it always turns out to be). George Washington and Abraham Lincoln are there for certain, along with a few other more familiar ones. There is not much drama; I mostly only watch and listen to the meetings, which are mostly in semidarkness, where no faces can be directly made out for the most part. The black sheepdog seems to be there to help people move on into “different futures” from where they are originally headed or something. I rarely (in my earlier childhood) dreamt of any positive associations with dogs. There is even a slight eeriness associated here, but no personal threat perceived.

There is also a device made of (semi-matte silver) metal that seems to be used for changing the direction or potential of “alternate” timelines (perhaps as if to bring all facets of time together into one “time stream”). It has a secret compartment - relative to a diagonal lid inside, and a hidden one past that - and is the same size as the larger rectangular box that contained Velveeta cheese at the time - but mostly like a matte silver trap for smaller mammals that we used in real life in school (grades six to eight).

Although I do not consider this dream to be predominantly precognitive, it occurred before I knew much about the “Hall of Presidents” in Disney World, even though I had been in Disney World in 1974 with my sister Marilyn and her husband, though did not see that attraction.

Night of July 2, 1976. Friday.



My brother Earl has been living in Wisconsin (in reality as well) but comes back to Florida on a vacation, I believe (possibly relating to the Bicentennial, which seems to be related to something on television at a lower volume in the background in the northeast corner). A lot of his belongings are in our Cubitis home in the living room. There is a black microscope (I owned a real one, neither a toy nor of cheap plastic in reality) and a lot of other things, including test tubes and such, somewhat like a makeshift laboratory. Most of the stuff is set up in the southwest corner of the living room on a very large table. There is a very vivid but eerie atmosphere.

He is talking loudly and clearly for quite some time while mostly standing in the northeast area of the room, but I do not seem to grasp a word he is saying at any point (it may be related to the television also being on, but again, it is not that loud). I know it has something to do with rocket science but that is about all that I get out of it.

Suddenly, there is even a more intense feeling in the room. A sheet of typing paper hovers in the air for a short time near the ceiling - and then flutters loudly at a forty-five degree angle downward, making the pattern of an implied staircase as it moves. I am not sure what this means. The air itself seems to vibrate with hidden energies.

Later on, I am on the carport and see a strange vehicle in the sky just beyond and above the other side of Highway Seventeen, to the west. It looks like a school bus with helicopter rotaries that also resemble umbrellas. It moves apart and back a little bit (and very evenly, almost unnoticeable) like the middle has large “accordion bellows” holding it together. The helicopter rotary also moves up and down as it flies very slowly across the sky to the north, making a lot of odd noises and a lot of lighter gray smoke. For some reason, it also seems very ancient, like from the 1400s.

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Morning of April 10, 1976. Saturday.



There is some sort of very rare and special type of larger grouse (though more quail-like in some ways) in the backyard at Cubitis, though their size may be a typical in-dream magnification of perspective. It is supposedly “sacred” and has some sort of incredible ability to prey on humans at times as well as supposedly send human-like emotions apparently telepathically to disorient people. There are about six or seven in the yard at one point, and I am not sure if it is a good idea to even be outside.

I somehow fall down near the south side of the shed (fairly close to the carport) and feel an intense and bizarre sensation like a “deep tickle” in my side and lower back, which I have had on and off all my life, especially more recently. I am aware that I have fallen on one of these “sacred grouse” and thus may be doomed because of this. I see one of them closer to my face as it walks nearer and I feel a deep sense of awe.

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This was similar to a number of other in-dream premonitory events, including the dog with the knife-like nose, the buzzard’s beak, and several others. They all involve this intense spasm in my lower back that is like a mix of unbearable pleasure and a strange mild pain.

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Induction factor: water (man-made; birdbath made by my father for my mother). The setting is known and realistic and mostly private (backyard sometimes shared with friends). There are no other characters directly seen, though I sense my father is also in the backyard. I have a greatly enhanced awareness of my physical body, movement, and weight. Return flight factor features as a large quail or grouse with unrealistic intelligence and human-like sentience. The mood was of a growing awe and eventual mortal fear. Additional coalescence factor: ground (soil), coalescence (as my body inexplicably falling on the bird with the belief I may have crushed it) with the belief that I am dead or at least paralyzed for a long time. Possible explanation: Unknown, other than the back spasm event - but premonitory or causal? I seem to have “died” in this dream, but only my temporary dream self incarnation came to an end here. My father raised quail at the time, though much smaller than the birds in my dream.

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Morning of April 9, 1966. Saturday.



This, I believe is the first version of this dream, a day before Easter.

I am in an unknown region. There is an isolated house in the forest but near a winding path. Oddly, the house seems “cut in half” in that some outer walls seem to be missing but a family still lives there. The imagery is intriguing and appeared in other dreams with different themes later on, including some featuring the “mystery girl”.

I am aware of a real, living wolf, but am also aware of the “ghost” of Little Red Riding Hood, who is wearing a white riding hood and is mostly glowing all over, a white light with a lighter bluish tint. She seems somewhat sad and lost. I talk with her but do not recall the conversation - there is an unusual awareness of peace at one point as if she is to be a long-term part of my life. The association may be related to a basket she is carrying being filled with Easter eggs, but I also get the impression they will hatch at a later date rather than being eaten. Even though my dream implies she is a spirit and that the wolf has possibly already eaten her, there is still a strong presence of her in my dream. She is dark-haired and green-eyed and very pretty. There is no direct threat from the wolf although I do see it looking down from a ridge in Chipmunk Coulee (recurring).

Interestingly, the only other time I saw this precise dream imagery was of an actual “incomplete” house in a photo my wife-to-be had sent to me many years later. This, like many other dreams, seemed to establish a connection to my beautiful wife (and “dream girl”) a couple years or so before she was even born.

Afternoon of April 9, 1976. Friday.



I had fallen asleep in my father’s original room in Cubitis that he also used as a music studio (until he bought the matte silver bus he kept parked in the backyard and by this time also had the new room he built into the carport). My mother sometimes sat near the south windows when writing letters to various friends and relatives.

In my dream, I am hovering upside-down, seemingly in the fetal position, in a vast expanse of darkness, both to each side of me and at least below me. It is not quite like my prenatal memories in that it does not have a sense of being in two places at the same time and no immediate “walls” around me. I do have a sense of comfort, but also feel a bit displaced. I am trying to recall my dream that I was apparently “pulled out of”, thinking I must be awake now but am not sure of the setting I am in or why I seem to be hovering like this. My perception is about as vivid as possible for such a dream. I cannot see anything but my physical orientation seems as “real” as real life regardless of the unusual position.

Suddenly, I hear the mystery girl’s voice (long-term precognitive wife-to-be presence) calling out “Honey…honey…” (louder the second time) almost as if it is an attempt to get my attention with the assumption that I am sleeping, though again I cannot see anything. This causes me to begin to question what is going on, though my dream is too short to think too much about it. I know it cannot be my mother (especially as she has a much older-sounding voice) because I perceive myself as an adult for some reason (as well as maintaining a growing lucidity where I seem to be awake and asleep at the same time and trying to work out why the mystery girl wants me - I also feel intensely connected to a “different time”) and perhaps sleeping next to my partner while coming out of sleep because of her calling me. I come out of my dream fairly quickly (with a sudden somewhat startling shift in my physical perspective) and it is almost like the sound was actually perceived, with the residual faux echo (much as in real life when the consciousness is slightly shifted from being very tired and there is a faux echo when anything is spoken - something to do with slowed-down short-term memory, I think). This was one of my most vivid dreams during this time period as well as quite puzzling in terms of orientation and perspective. Of course, the voice matched my yet-to-be wife when I did talk to her on the telephone years later. This is one of thousands of dreams that validated who she was. Without a cue or clue from me (and although it is a common term of endearment), “honey” was the first thing my wife-to-be called me when we first started talking and even after twenty years, she is the only one I have ever heard with her particular unique accent and vocal nuances.

Morning of December 12, 1965. Sunday.



Summary of meaning: In the need to wake from a vivid dream state (from needing to get up and use the bathroom), my emergent consciousness is rendered as a bull crashing through the wall, as a wall symbolizes the metaphorical divisions of consciousness and the “other side of liminal space” between dreaming and waking. In this case, it seems my father was the parallel symbolism to the bull in representing my more urgent need to wake. The bull’s horn, being pointed and similar to a bird’s beak in hypnopompic physical anticipation (which is experienced as a jab in the lower back), may be a factor.

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I am sitting with a few family members, the two closest being two brothers-in-law, Bob and Verdell, and they are apparently drinking beer. (Verdell is on my right.) I am not sure of whose house we are in (possibly my older sister Carol’s, as it does not seem like Chipmunk Coulee, but it may be a unique composite of both). There are two couches along each wall, perpendicular to each other, with a small end table towards the corner from one couch. Everyone seems cheerful at first.

There is a sudden feeling of impending danger. A bull crashes through the wall from near the corner of the room, directly from in front of me, knocking plaster and such about.

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This dream was recurring for a short time. In one version, Verdell actually says “look out for the bull” at the moment of waking. This was before I ever saw or heard of the “look out for the bull” Schlitz Malt Liquor commercial on television and also before I grew up and worked for Ford Taurus where I was injured on my right wrist by someone throwing a sharp metal part back down the line from them not being able to keep up (though the commercial is more relevant to dream content regarding prescience).

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Morning of November 22, 1975. Saturday.



My dream starts out with a detailed backstory with fictional characters possibly implied to be living in Arcadia (as that is where the final event likely takes place). There is a family curse where an unfamiliar man of perhaps about thirty was warned, I believe by his grandmother (and possibly other family members), not to ever become a sailor or go near the ocean at any point in his life.

There had been a sampler in his family for several generations which depicts rats leaving a ship that is implied to be destined to sink, which is hanging on display in a local museum. The edge of the boat is shown and the gangway is visible, with three rats on the gangplank in running position from upper left to lower right, diagonally positioned. This design also seems to represent the family’s coat of arms.

Eventually, I become corporeal and part of the scenario. I am with my best friend Toby at a public gathering in an unfamiliar setting. He is seated to my right. The unknown man has decided to go to sea as a ship’s captain (apparently without moving up the ranks). He is dressed in a captain’s uniform and is explaining how he no longer believes in his family curse. There are at least two other speakers at the gathering. The speakers take turns sitting on chairs to the right of the podium (my left). There are probably less than twenty people at the indoor venue. The podium and speakers are perhaps about six feet from the first row of the audience, who sit on singular chairs.

Time passes. There is an uneasy quiet growing, followed by an eerie clattering (reminiscent of wooden wind chimes), followed by another eerie silence. Toby is looking off to the right. I tap him to get his attention, saying his name. The unknown would-be captain has become a skeleton, now sagging slightly on his chair, still in his uniform, unmoving. A hush falls over the audience as the dream, now at its most vivid point, quickly fades.

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The preconscious personification, who never regarded me directly, was rendered as an unknown male who wanted to go to sea (return to sleep, as water represents the internal biology of sleeping and dreaming) as a captain (dictating control of his sleeping and waking habits). Instead, he became a skeleton to symbolize the cessation of the dream state and to activate the waking stage. This was foreshadowed by the sampler of the rats leaving the ship. Rats basically symbolize nighttime circadian rhythms (as they are primarily nocturnal, excluding pet rats) and the gangplank is actually oriented like a clock to represent a time around four or five o'clock in the morning. The sampler also implies leaving the potential to sail upon the ocean (analogous to not returning to sleep). Additionally, the background of the sampler was yellow, which represents sentience and a precursor to dawning consciousness (waking). This was my last longer and clearer dream of the morning. There was no fear created in this dream; just a subtle sense of awe and curiosity. The foundation for this dream was water induction (my most common dream induction).

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It is possible that my dream was influenced by a cover of DC’s “Ghosts” comic book (volume one issue nine, cover date November 1972), one that I had looked at fairly often, even though there is no implication of a ghost in this dream, only the skeleton as symbolic of the cessation of my dream.

Morning of November 16, 1975. Sunday.



This dream repeated in a few variations. It is sort of a “trick dream” in that it includes what I think is a clever variation on the outcome of presumed events. I have had many like these but mostly when in my early teens. It is a typical “every man” archetype (or warning of mainstream western mentality) very similar to “I’m Eager Beaver”, which include people who pretend to know about dreams but have no clue, living behind a facade, shaping them into something far from the Source and with as much distraction and deception as possible.

The location is usually based to the east of my Cubitis home. It is not a large cow pasture in the dream, though, but a place called “Swamp Garden” (I do not believe this name was in the earliest version) - which is not really an area for tourists or anything - it is just what it is called by the locals. It is actually supposedly a dangerous place of which a lot of legends were supposedly born. I am not quite sure why it is called a garden other than the plants seemingly growing in rows like in a vegetable garden. There are cases where people go in to get special herbs and such. It does not seem that big of a swamp - it is actually quite sparse.

One of these legends of Swamp Garden related to a large mythical snake that supposedly has four large, equally-sized fangs in the top of his head (rather than the usual two main ones in rattlesnakes). It is possibly just a mutation. It is somewhat like a rattlesnake and also somewhat like a blue racer according to what people have reported. When I was young, a lot of myths and folklore were spread about various kinds of snakes, though I had heard nothing of a “four-fanged snake” in real life. The dream, in its variations, was sometimes more like a documentary (where I am following the character but not directly present) - other times more like a lucid sequence.

One of the people making a documentary tells of two bold encounters with the four-fanged snake. Over time, though, a clever twist is related in the dream. It turns out that they were two different snakes, one with a wider bite, so that the smaller snake, when coincidentally biting him on the back of the hand in the same general location - seemed to create an impression of four fang marks (supposedly caused by the one bite of the legendary creature). He becomes well-known for his encounter even though it was not what it seemed. He dramatizes the event through recreations of the encounter and makes it out to be long and eventful (even though in actuality it was just a couple brief nonvenomous snake bites).

On my own private journey (I am not filming anything or making a documentary), I actually encounter the snake, but there is no drama or fear. He remains in a large bush as I walk about in the area, but I am able to confirm that it is a large snake with four fangs. There is also a part where I also see a blue racer which is glowing and moving through a mist over the ground.

In one of the final versions of the dream, I stand on an embankment and say, almost lovingly, “I know you’re out there…" This was one of those dreams which starts out occurring mostly in fragments - then later becomes almost epic - then in versions later on, becomes slightly fragmented (though sometimes more personal) again.

Later, this came to be like a personal symbol for "every man” in mainstream culture in a way; for example, so-called psychics (who supposedly control their “abilities” and charge people for “advice”) as compared to so many people who experience spontaneous precognition on a regular basis far more than “commercial” psychics and never become known at all through their lifetime (which can only be a good thing). The swamp here represents the mystery of the Source, and the four-fanged snake, an aspect of the Source many people seemingly never confront in a lifetime for whatever reason.

Morning of November 9, 1975. Sunday.



I have posted this dream before (on the original dream journal site), which has an almost epic feel in the main, longer version. This was on a fairly old online journal of years ago. I am not sure if this is the same version, but I think it is the longest and most detailed one. (Another version is where I became lucid and went off on a tangent so is fairly pointless, as it does not have the O. Henry ending.) The original title in my first journal entry of one was “The Sacred Rock of Thinking”. Over time, that did not sound quite right, so this is the present title I have stuck with.

I am in my ninth grade mathematics class with Mr. Forbes. For some reason, we are watching some sort of movie about archaeologists. (In another version, I believe it was my English class.) They seem, however, to be in light tan safari outfits. There are at least two men and at least two women. Over time, they enter a large cave and look around for a legendary rock that is supposed to materialize your thoughts into reality. They are carrying torches. I believe the rock may be a “lost” piece from Stonehenge. As they walk along, one of the women mentions something about bats, saying that she hopes that there are not any bats in the cave. Shortly after this, bats appear and fly close to them and they seem startled as more and more appear. Eventually, they are entering a larger area. There is an unusual boulder that is sort of an orange-yellow color, and with various hollow areas, almost reminding me of a giant sponge (but shaped like a somewhat partially flattened egg).

In a way, this boulder vaguely resembles an orange human brain.

At this point, I seem to be in the movie after thinking that “it would be interesting to be in the movie” as if the film of the rock alone actually caused this to happen (through the rock’s “power”). The other people look at me curiously, but walk on after a few strange glances at each other. For a short time, it is almost as if I can see out into the classroom until we go farther into the cave.

Soon, I am thinking that I would like to be back home in Cubitis in my backyard. Suddenly, I am there. The strange boulder is also there. It seems to be in a sort of pool though, or represent some sort of abstract design relating to a fountain. My friends visit, female classmate Sandra R and best friend Toby T. They find the sight rather strange. For some reason, Sandra mentions something about where my cat is, and uses the term “that bobcat of yours” (it was actually only a hybrid with a bobcat grandfather). Soon, an actual bobcat appears and is somewhat threatening. Toby does his “mock running away” at first before getting out of the area for real. This involves a mock march, singing “Over hill, over dale…sorry Dale!”

“I sure wish that animal wasn’t around here,” says Toby, loudly, and the animal is gone and Sandra comes out of hiding.

Over time, other strange things happen. Money comes and goes in strange ways, which is not always a precursor to a positive event. It starts after Sandra asks something about why the rock was a strange orange color and not gold - and so the rock turns into gold as well as having the power to materialize thoughts. Some (unknown, but possibly one being a classmate) people appear and break a couple thinner pieces off and leave (which means they may also have the power where thought is materialized unless there is something at the core of the original boulder). A helicopter appears overhead at one point, which seems to mean that the original exploration team has found me. A lift and hook of some kind is able to lift the rock several feet into the air by attaching to parts of its sponge-like exterior. “I wish that helicopter was elsewhere,” I shout, and the rock falls back into my backyard in the same position.

After a time, some sort of actual international war breaks out relative to where the rock is.

Someone says (possibly Sandra) “I wish this rock never existed”. And…

I am back in my class watching a movie about four people who are confused about why they suddenly find themselves in a cave. “What were we looking for again?” asks a puzzled woman, her voice blasting in a hypnopompic audio pulse upon waking.

Night of November 5, 1965 to morning of November 6, 1965. Friday night to Saturday morning.



Summary: I dreamt a television-influenced scenario in real time, with the same soundtrack but mostly different imagery.

After extensive research, I have been able to pinpoint more data on one of the most vivid (but previously less documented) dreams of the later half of 1965. I have written about it several times in the past, but will detail as much as possible here. Curiously, it turns out to be yet another “unexplained” November 6th event (of which there is at least one for every year of my life) with heightened awareness and personal links as well as a deep nostalgia relating to certain dream states.

This was mostly a lucid dream (in that I knew I was dreaming and it was almost as vivid as real life) but I did not take control at any point. Also interesting was that my dream (the on-the-couch version) seemed to last more than a day. This is even in relation to the hour-long soundtrack of the show seeming extended over that long.

My dream occurred over about an hour, with several false awakenings as well as actual partial awakenings, but then it went into a “reset” (when I actually went to my own bed across the hall) and some of it repeated the next morning with other mixed dreams. It was basically caused by falling asleep at the beginning of the “Don’t Open Till Doomsday” episode of “The Outer Limits” television series. Although I was already seriously into dream work at this time (age four, almost five), this dream alone enhanced my interest greatly. I begin to watch the show in my sister’s Rose Street apartment, sitting on the couch on my own, but I was already quite tired, starting to have heavy eyes at the line “There is nothing wrong with your television set”, firstly falling asleep during this time.

Much of my dream occurred as I was lying on my right side on the couch but otherwise facing the television. The show was in black-and-white, but my dream was in vivid color. As with many other dreams, they remained far more detailed, memorable, and clear than the actual shows they were “scripted” by in real life (and with “better special effects” and more “realistic” in general). During the days without YouTube, Internet, and so on, it sometimes took a few years to confirm how details distorted relative to the original “script”.

One of the things that struck me in-dream was the eye that seemed to float in blackness but which was actually someone looking into the box at the miniature alien-monster from his side. This was probably one of the most internally influential images of the time. In reality, the actual creature looked (to me at the time) like a pile of dog poo with one eye stuck on. I noted this especially as I was, in liminal floating, trying to work out what was a dream and what was really on the television screen.

Also in my dream there was far more drama and action than the show that was actually on at the time, though the sound track was primarily the same (but again, seemingly over a much longer time period). In my dream, the monster was actually gigantic (instead of a miniature in a box) and was also green and orange and somewhat octopus-like (but with a mostly hairless gorilla-like head). At one point, I watch the giant creature (while seemingly disembodied) move through a large city, “walking” from left to right, its tentacles moving about, sometimes destroying buildings. In this case, there is also a scene where the eye appears in the sky as if in reference to the moon or another planet.

Near the end of my dream, there is a scene where a man is trying to hide from this giant creature that is hunting him (not at all anything like the show’s actual plot) and the creature “unknowingly” destroys a skyscraper the man is in. As the building collapses, the man free-falls outside the collapsing outer wall and even though it is a fall from around the twentieth floor, he survives with no injuries. After a typical in-dream “reset” I become the character in a similar replay.

Curiously, my relevant most coherent awakening occurred at the exact moment the hand-printed note was shown at the end of the episode (which read “Don’t Open Till Doomsday”) though I was still a bit groggy. From there I went to my own bed even though I had a few false awakenings where it seemed I had already. The line “If I cannot annihilate the world, I must uncreate myself…”, even though heard in my sleep at age four, was still clearly in my mind in my later teenage years, proof of strong influence in liminal states.

Night of November 2, 1965. Tuesday.



I consider this a paranormal dream for several reasons, including the fact that it repeated exactly many years later (as a surfacing memory, but I almost passed out in the intensity - one of the only times that this has ever happened in my lifetime in this manner as I was walking down the sidewalk at night) just before reaching my sister Marilyn’s house and hearing about my sister Carol having a heart attack. There was no prior clue to this event (and in fact, Carol was in possibly the lowest risk group for heart attacks, being a younger female and having no medical history as such in the family, but she did recover), and my “vision” (second occurrence of this dream) actually seemed to “tell” me this as well (before arriving at sister Marilyn’s house).

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This was a late night dream with possibly two layers, a real-life “replay” (or composite memory) of a visit from sister Carol later at night, and the superimposition of the giant bat.

I am viewing the scene directly, but I am possibly incorporeal, as it would seem I should be sleeping at the time. It seems fairly late at night. My sister Carol is visiting my home on Chipmunk Coulee. She has gotten out of the car and is in our front yard. I believe my parents come out to see her. She does not seem to acknowledge me.

Suddenly, from out of the dark of the night, comes a giant bat. It is about as great in wingspan as a car is long. My sister Carol ducks down with a sense of fear and puzzlement. I sense her emotions but do not feel threatened myself. Still, I do feel that something may “eventually” happen to her at a later date. It moves over her from only about three feet from the top of her head. There is no clear awareness of it other than the darkness, the wings, and the movement (for example, no sight of the bat’s “face”, feet, or more discernible wing detail).

The repeat of this vivid dream (I would say lucid as I did perceive it was only a vivid dream at one point, which was why there was not a stronger fear of it) was not at all like a usual surfacing memory but an actual “replay” that almost knocked me out and probably would have if not being slightly “faster” (or “time-compressed”) than the 1965 version at one point.

It is possible that the supraconscious only brought up this dream again, more “quickly” in unfolding to “match” the approaching event of learning about my sister Carol as this was the only dream I recall where sister Carol seemed to be in danger.

A “borrowed” dream to be “rewired” as precognitive? Either that, or I saw myself receiving the news many years ahead rather than an hour or so. There are different ways to look at all unexplainable events, “superstition” or “coincidence” being an unacceptable farce regarding an experience such as this.

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Induction factor: darkness of night. The setting is known and realistic and mostly private (though relatives are visiting). My parents are present as well as my sister Carol (half-sister on my mother’s side) and seemingly at least a couple other relatives. I have a very clear awareness but may be implied to be incorporeal though still perceiving everything at normal head height. Return flight factor features as a giant bat. The mood was of a growing awe but not a strong fear. Additional coalescence factor: the shadow. Possible explanation: This is an unexplainable one in how it vividly and exactly repeated in a precognitive sense (while not asleep) years later.

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