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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 11, 1977. Sunday.



I am outside near the concrete walkway to the shed in back of my Cubitis home. Curiously, there is an “unknown city” (at first) I become aware of to the west (mostly to the northwest) beyond the other side of Highway Seventeen. It is fairly rare for this scene to occur in my dreams with this directional orientation, as usually, unknown “new” cities appear to the east, beyond the railroad tracks. I notice one high building, probably the Empire State Building. I do not consider, however, that I live in Florida and nowhere near Manhattan.

Somehow, the building falls over, tipping to its side (possibly related to a military jet flying too close to the area, implying doomsday - a recurring in-dream concept at this time including the “Three Doomsday Jets” dream). Even though it was far away, it somehow suddenly ends up near where I am standing (though the area between the house and shed and between the house and neighbor’s orange grove is much more expansive than in reality). Strangely, it then begins to turn top over bottom (reminding me vaguely of a “twitching caterpillar” for some reason). The scene becomes highly ambiguous and extremely unrealistic. On the one hand, it is a building that collapsed (or rather “tipped over”) a great distance from my home, yet on the other hand is quite small at this point, like a model (though still implying the same full-sized building), only about ten feet high. It continues to turn top over bottom in a circle around me as if in a deliberate attempt to fall on me after failing the previous times (as if it holds some sort of conscious intent).

I become extremely uncomfortable and annoyed (with a growing “mental dullness” - my dream seeming only “half-rendered” at this point) at this persistent “thing”/skyscraper that wants to “fall” on me. It continues to dance around me in a circle in a top over bottom routine, somewhat in the manner of a dropped gyrating coin that never stops. I eventually perceive that I am only a few inches tall, though see myself from a higher disembodied perspective. It becomes almost like watching an annoying news report while half-asleep or in an intoxicated stupor. It is almost like I am trapped in having to stay in the act of running around in a circle, as the tower will never finish its presumed “falling over”, it seems, almost decaying into abstract incoherency just prior to waking, as dreams sometimes do.

UPDATE with grammar enhancements March 2015. I did not really see this as either significant or precognitive (even in 2001) originally (with regard to the September 11 attacks in 2001 over twenty years later), partly due to lack of a coherent scenario and the fairly rare “mental dullness” my dream seemed to generate - caused by a very mild headache in sleep which faded after fully waking (as well as it seeming to be the Empire State Building rather than one of the World Trade Center towers by conscious association that day). However, because I have seen thousands of examples of date-relevant associations regarding precognition and foreshadowing with my own dreams (and additionally via pop culture or incidental published works not relevant to my dreams), I presently feel there may be some sort of subtle link, regardless of the bizarre level of distortion and impossible dream imagery here.

Morning of September 9, 1977. Friday.



In my dream, I spend most of my time in my backyard in Cubitis where the bonfires are usually set. I find an undamaged jewelry box in the ashes which does not seem familiar (and is not familiar in reality in conscious reflection). (There is a very vague association with “Pandora’s Box”, but that concept does not fully materialize in any way.)

After a time, I learn that a small creature lives in the box that could easily sit on my hand, and in fact does so a few times at different points. The creature is white and fuzzy and has two shorter antenna-like knobs rising from his head - somehow reminding me vaguely of the old-style television “rabbit ears” in function (but not so much in appearance).

He does not seem to be a threat, and in fact, seems fairly timid. I believe he may have magical powers but no major events happen. There is, however, a deep sense of peace in my dream. I do feel that perhaps this “pet” will provide things I will need later on in life.

Update (July 16, 2015. Thursday): After extensive basic research and study of various dreams and time periods, I discovered that this creature was probably influenced by seeing “Josie and the Pussycats in Outer Space“ back in 1972 - which I did not directly realize at all in 1977 (in fact, in checking and validating this dream’s date and any relevant documentation of the time or missing details, I found that the first episode of the show aired on September 9, 1972 and was titled “Where’s Josie?” - Josie likely being a symbol of my red-haired neighbor girl who had moved); more specifically, the alien character Bleep (Melody’s fluffy pet alien). It always greatly pleases me when I am able to find and validate dream-related origins and influences. This was probably primarily based on nostalgia relating to that time period and having less female company on a regular basis (at home) than before in the months leading up to our move back to Wisconsin.

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.

Night of August 25, 1977. Thursday.



This is a description of the most intense fully in-body nightmare I have had in my lifetime (almost as vivid as a typical fully in-body lucid dream though I am not lucid in this one). Even so, possibly the only vivid in-body nightmare that had residual energies on my mood (in “coloring” my day) for more than a day or two as well as very realistic imagery and perspective. It seems to fit in with the idea of “anniversary” dreams. It relates to how my dog disappeared after I was in the hospital for a couple days a year earlier when he apparently ran off looking for me. It preferred my company over anyone else’s. It was a mixed breed but part toy spaniel and showed up at our house as a stray. No one had claimed him.

In my dream, I find myself seeing the small dog sitting on the floor of my room in Cubitis. I am mostly looking west the entire time. I am very surprised and happy to see him, but something seems a bit “off” about the atmosphere or mood of my dream. I call out in an odd eerie sustained voice,“Joooe…”

I pick him up and he seems small and vulnerable but then something completely unexpected happens. He jumps up from my arms and bites into my entire face somehow with a strange growl. I actually feel the intense pain sweep over my face and when I look down again, I can feel that some of his teeth are still in a few different areas of my face. I am still holding him much the same way at that point. He now looks quite savage…or at least as savage as a toy spaniel can appear, and I can see where several of his teeth had come out - and I also have a vague idea that this may eventually cause his death and so I feel additionally sad upon this fleeting thought. My face feels wet and hot. There is an intensity which makes it seem like a real event even after waking. However, it is not that logically rendered because, being such a small dog, he would not have been able to cover my entire face with his open mouth.

This was actually one of the only dreams I had where he appeared after he disappeared in real life. Being an “anniversary” dream, it was unusually intense with regard to emotion and self-reflection. It was likely relative to the suppressed or “hidden” guilt I had concerning his disappearance and not knowing what happened to him (thus his in-dream behavior implies “the worst” if only in my imagination) even though it was not really my fault that I had to spend time in the hospital for a couple days for the operation on my right thumb. He was a “house dog” but this was the first time he just took off (on the second day I was in the hospital) when someone else opened the front door at my family’s house.

This was also one of the only dreams that seemingly took me by complete surprise in its outcome.

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 14, 1977. Sunday.



I had this dream after falling asleep in the bed in the added “carport room” my father eventually used as an additional area to practice music while my mother then used the older music room (southwest corner of Cubitis home). It was normal for me to have completely different “energy” (and even perspective) in dreams when sleeping in a different location (and I did such on purpose to “stimulate” new potential but no longer “required” this later in life) - often having false awakenings and false memories of sleeping in an additional different location.

My dream was extraordinarily vivid and quite different to most others of the same time period. I was “revolving” (yet somehow seemingly fixed in space at the same time) around a farm scene (farmhouse and barn mostly) that was mostly in reds and oranges, with the farmhouse seemingly being the “hub” (of rotation). I could see every detail quite clearly and sharply, including a wheelbarrow, a livestock trough, haystacks, sections of fencing leaning against the barn, and so on. Although it is late morning (but on Sunday), I am somewhat in awe of the seemingly meaningful dream that continues for quite some time (with no feeling of being disoriented or dizzy - it is almost as if it is the scene that is somehow moving smoothly on a “virtual roulette wheel” and not me), almost as if it has significance of some kind or is some sort of “important art” that must somehow be captured on camera (which strikes me as unfortunate because aspects and features of it seem to change over time). At the same time however, it seems to be an enhanced three-dimensional hologram of some kind with slightly harsher lines (at a later point) than what would imply physical reality. It is hard to explain, because some aspects almost look like an oil painting at times and it eventually takes on more of an artificial look, yet still extraordinarily beautiful. I get the impression that “I could watch it all morning”.

My dream shifts into being fully “in body” at an unknown location. It seems to be the southeast section of the armory and game rooms we took a break at from taking our SAT tests at our nearby school, but on a fictional third floor, it seems. I am aware of the pool table (as its general location in reality), but the size and layout of the rooms are slightly different.

A male student, who was somewhat of a bully in real life and quite chubby (to where he “automatically” urinated and wet his pants when he ran in real life, especially on a harder surface such as the street), is seemingly known as a sort of “super villain” at that point, as if my dream suddenly created a back story without my awareness or cooperation (regardless of my dawning lucidity). He is dressed somewhat typically though.

Suddenly, I become quite lucid, but am not sure what to do. The male bully, who is about twice my girth (but almost the same height) approaches me, saying “Want the Hog?” (his “super villain name”, apparently) and moves his arms out a bit (as if for a bear hug) as if in readiness to fight. I go to the large window on the east end of the room (choosing to ignore this dream scenario) and notice it is open enough to just crawl through. As I look out, I see several young children playing and laughing near a park bench and water sprinkler near where pigeons are feeding. The sunlight is bright, and the detail is quite clear. I start to crawl out the window in an attempt to also fly (or leap and then fly), but do not quite make it as I then start to wake, left feeling somewhat frustrated. (In real life there was a mostly unused playground bordering that end of the building, which was always empty when we were there, and some friends and I were yelled at for going on the swings and acting “childish” - and my friend - Jeff S - went on and on about how ridiculous it was to say that older teens never sat in swings, which was what the teachers implied in their condescending “warnings” about never doing it again.)

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 17, 1977. Sunday.



Disney’s cartoon ducks Huey, Dewey, and Louie are all on one unicycle. Each one is on the shoulders of the previous. The duck sitting on the actual unicycle and steering it ends up going off the road after going over a bridge, and landing in the river. The other two blame him.

“This is not my fault,” he says. “It’s a frame-up!”

“What’s a frame?” asks another.

“It’s something that holds a picture.”

“What’s a pitcher?”

“Something that holds wateh (water)!”

“What’s Wateh?”

“Something we’re up to our necks to in!”

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Although this short “adventure” was not much for precognition, it does remind me of a story I heard from someone else later in real life whom had recently also came to Australia. He said he had gone into a restaurant and said “water”. The person behind the counter acted as if they did not understand even when he repeated it. Finally, he said, he slapped his hand down, very loudly and “clearly” saying “WAH-TAH!” and then they understood. I viewed this dream as if floating in front of the scene, which is three-dimensional even though it is like a cartoon.

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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.

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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.

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Morning of July 3, 1977. Sunday.



I seem to be in another time period, possibly in the distant future (as the buildings look futuristic). It may or may not be Earth. There is a large city; some of the buildings being with dome-like tops, but there are no people around. Apparently, everyone has cleared the streets because of the supposed end of the world soon coming. As the world is supposedly going to end, a very small robot, looking vaguely similar in some ways like R2-D2 from “Star Wars” (except a bit smaller and more squarish) slowly moves down the middle of the wide street - and there is a feeling of terror sensed (not from me, from the unseen people of the world or region). It almost seems amusing to me in afterthought, as this small robot will be the sole cause of the world (or human civilization) to end.

The area in my dream also seems to be bilocated with my Cubitis driveway as the robot approaches our carport from the west.

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Morning of May 12, 1977. Thursday.




In my dream, I am in an unknown and unfamiliar location at some sort of unfamiliar amusement park with a prehistoric theme. The rides seem mainly based on dinosaurs or other prehistoric features. Over time, some of the rides seemingly “come alive”. I go up into one open area and look down at a circular plesiosaurus ride (similar to one of those miniature speedboat rides in a small circular pool setup at a carnival or fair, though elevated about six feet up) where it is now possibly no longer a ride but solely an animal display, because a small (baby?) plesiosaurus is alive and swimming about in the water, though there may be others under the surface (though the water is not that deep). I notice a very strange and strong earthy odor like moss and dirt. The prehistoric creature has a black “oily” partly reflective skin. Some people are looking down into the water and cheerfully finding the sight very enjoyable and a few younger people are throwing fish to it from a white bucket. Perhaps the creatures at this park were cloned or “made” somehow. (About two years earlier in reality, in 1975, the first mammalian embryo had been created by nuclear transfer.) There does not seem to be any danger at this point.

Later though, a dark green tyrannosaurus bends down unexpectedly and I end up in its mouth. However, I am not afraid (but I am very annoyed) and so I hold its mouth open with my arms up and my body in an “X” shape while facing outward from its mouth so that it cannot swallow me. Still, it does seem to be a “real” live one. (This of course is a would-be coalescence event and potential waking trigger but I somehow stop it in my non-lucid state.) I somehow escape or absentmindedly teleport to another setting.

I eventually go back to the water park area with the living plesiosaurus that may only turn out to be a disguised seal to give the public a “show”. This is not certain though, but only a residual focus. This idea, in conscious afterthought, seems illogically mundane (relating to my dream’s events and mood) since I supposedly had been in the mouth of a “real” tyrannosaurus only a short time before.

Morning of April 10, 1977. Sunday.



This was a rather long dream which lasted until late morning. There seemed to be at least two “resets”. One of the main characters in my dream is Roosevelt I (but more adult-like) who is a friend and a classmate. There is a girl with him who may be an adult version of Tina L. The main theme of my dream is that a boat disappeared. It was a small motor yacht with a cabin though Roosevelt and Tina mostly stand atop the cabin. This disappearance had happened, supposedly, a few years prior, I believe - I am not fully certain of my dream’s backstory (possibly because of the “resets”). What had happened was that, when the first boat was going around the winding curve of a river, with each bank covered with very tall trees and other plants so that you could not see through to the other side of the river bend, it never arrived on the other side and was never seen again at the time. There were a few witnesses to this event.

Experiments are conducted in the region that relate to the river’s water and its currents. Roosevelt is doing most of the research. Later, he and Tina are going rather fast down the river. Suddenly, another boat comes around the bend and almost hits them as it is on a direct collision course. At this point, I am fully in my dream and it is very vivid. Although I am on the boat with Roosevelt, I seem to be a non-character. There is no accident, only a sense of awe at the boat returning with the people not seeming to have aged. This turns out to have been the boat that had supposedly vanished years previously. Apparently, there is some sort of time barrier whereby, under certain undetermined conditions, anything that travels through it at “just the right time or speed” shifts into a parallel universe of sorts, or so it seems. Interestingly, in my dream, the events do not seem that much like science-fiction.

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.