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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 June 27, 1976. Sunday.



Dreams are sometimes known for providing supposedly worthless and ridiculous poetry that often has non-words or very odd variations of known (real-life) poetry. Here is an intriguing example:

Don Grady, the actor (who starred as Robbie Douglas in the television series “My Three Sons”), stars in an epic Western - “The Legend of Tony Karoni”. He was from Virginia (associations with “The Virginian” Western television series, I suppose) and sometimes rode in a group of many other cowboys. After many adventures, gunfights, and stopping rustlers, he ends up in a small jailhouse in an area in Southern California or possibly Mexico, to meet the local sheriff (and possibly to rescue a friend who is being held wrongfully). Two Mexican bandits are standing inside, leaning on the bars of the jail. One of them says, “Well, gang, look who’s back!” (There only seems to be the two men, no actual “gang”.) They then sing in a perfect, layered, somewhat metallic voice:



“It’s TOny KaROni!”

“All the way from NEAto’s cell!” (or “All the way from Needles’ cell!” - Needles is a place in California at any rate).

At this point, I am not certain if “Neato” was a play on the reversal of the “To” and “ny” of “Tony” or if they were actually singing “Needles” in reference to the town, though it does sound like “knee - toes”.

There are some possible plays here, one being from hearing “macaroni” in real life as well as possible associations with the “Frito Bandito” song (1967-1971?).

Morning of June 19, 1976. Saturday.



I am in the southwest bedroom of the Cubitis house where my father is present. We are in the southeast area of the room, near the doorway. I am facing the south windows as he is sitting on a chair facing me. He has taken a very rare species of (assumed as fictional) phosphorescent earthworm and is holding it by one end, saying that it has the ability to communicate with people. After a few minutes, the worm curls to form actual vertical handwriting with its entire body, first spelling the word “loam”, then the word “vex”. This is all that it does before my dream fades. (I consider that it is a glow worm, as one of the many songs my father sang publicly was called “Glow Worm”, though that is not actually what it is.) I sense that the worm is annoyed by people trying to get messages from it, when it probably wants to sleep.

The earthworm is a real-time dream state symbol. Attempting to read it as it is spelling words is the emergent consciousness factor, as thinking skills for sustained reading are only viable when conscious. As such, it seems that a part of me does not want to get up for the day yet. Additionally, trying to get feasible “messages” from the unconscious is sometimes futile, as it is just that…unconscious. (I suspect that this dream may have also been influenced by the “Sesame Street” short “Mary Sunshine”, though related to counting, with the lyric, “I head eleven worms yawning”.)

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Morning of June 12, 1976. Saturday.



At the beginning of my dream, I find myself walking north on a known back road between Arcadia and my home in Cubitis. It seems I am returning home from somewhere, possibly school, although it is the weekend in reality. (My dream self often does not know what year it is let alone the day, though walking home here symbolizes my imminent return to consciousness). It is possibly late morning or early afternoon. The weeds on each side of the road are higher and denser than in reality. The road seems older or less-maintained (which may be an indicator of the presence of prescient threads, of which there are two known of in this dream). I am walking on the right side of the road, close to the roadside.

Stepping out from the roadside and from my right is a hippie (at least two years older than me, possibly about seventeen) with long blond hair. He is apparently selling GRIT newspapers. He seems like an unlikely older hippie version of my otherwise soft-spoken friend Johnny C—-y, but the hair color is wrong. He is otherwise unknown.

Even though he is selling GRIT newspapers, he also seems to be selling illicit drugs (a very rare dream scenario). He offers me a free sample pill called “Snakeskin” (which I first also but only vaguely consider is a reference to American dollar bills, followed by vaguely considering if the pill is actually made of skin from a snake), which is a large green oval tablet. For some reason, I take it (which is something I never would have done in real life).

As I continue to walk along, I have a strange feeling of being pulled into the air and thrown to the opposite side of the road, which causes me to wake with an unusual but vague sense of motion sickness, though it is very brief.

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Familiar dream state components and meanings:

RAS symbolism: A snake often serves as the main trigger of RAS and is likely the oldest biologically (and probably serves as such in the dreams of all primates, including lemurs, lorises, monkeys, apes, and man). Here however, the association is with its skin, for the subliminal realization of the shedding of it as releasing the fictional dream self to return to the conscious self identity. The pill, as an emergent consciousness precursor (in contrast to the alternate choice of reading the newspaper), symbolizes the shift in consciousness that occurs with waking. My dream self however, seems to subliminally perceive it as reinduction potential (though just as in waking life, some pills are known to bring one closer to unconsciousness, while this dream ultimately utilizes the opposite inference regardless of how my dream self views it).

Vestibular system symbolism: The rising upwards and flipping backwards to the other side of the road is the resolving of ambiguous vestibular system dynamics in rising from unconsciousness. This is the same waking symbolism as in dreams such as “The Pole Vault Event” from 1970, though in that one, the dynamics were transmuted to another dream character.

Premonitory hypnopompic precursor: My entire dream seems based on potential control (though based on passive choice in this case) of the waking transition and the nature of RAS. This is because I had continuously been working with dreams in this way since I was around eight years old (to induce apex lucidity). However, prescience always has curious potential despite the dream type or its core symbolism and inherent meaning. In fact, prescience seems far more likely to stem from known core symbolism, which has always puzzled me.

Personified preconscious: Newspaper boy. The personified preconscious is rendered for waking mediation of a softer transition than “raw” RAS, though often with conflict if there is real environmental noise (and a need to wake and identity it) or biological need (for example, a need to use the bathroom, drink water, or change sleeping position).

Emergent consciousness factor: The newspapers and the pill, relative to apparent choice. The role of the preconscious here is in making me aware of thinking skills (reading) that are only viable when conscious. Additionally, it introduces the choice of exiting my dream with vestibular system consolidation (the pill), of which I subliminally associate with flight and thus prefer in this case over the softer choice (though which sometimes becomes abstract and annoying since printed text is difficult to understand or stabilize in many states of unconsciousness).

Prescient threads: A boy (unknown to me) selling GRIT approached my mother after this dream. She purchased the newspaper for about a year and a half prior to our move back to Wisconsin. Additionally, I needed to take both penicillin pills and painkillers after the surgery on my right thumb about two months after this dream. (I had never taken pills on any regular basis before.) The prescient nature of the latter seems to be validated by the preconscious in this case having similarities (in appearance only) to my real-life friend Johnny. Although the pills in this dream are presumably illicit, Johnny had told me a few times in real life that he wanted to be a doctor after finishing high school.

Real-life influence seems to have come from a GRIT advertisement, though with altered associations.

Additional notes: In this dream, the original vague association of “Snakeskin” being a reference to money was probably based on the altered association with the GRIT advertisement. The waking symbolism is oriented to my right as is most often the case. The preconscious is rendered to my right as the newspaper boy, who steps out from the weeds from my right. This seems mainly due to sleeping on my left side (as real environmental factors are more intrusive upon my right side, which is more exposed to the real environment I am sleeping in, and its ambiance - whereas unconscious factors, even when personified, are typically oriented on my left). In contrast, flying and being suddenly aware of the left side of my body (on the left side of the road) is the final waking dynamic, as it correlates exactly with my real physical orientation and sleeping position.

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Morning of May 11, 1976. Tuesday.



Yes, this is, after all, the original unimaginative dream journal title from age fifteen.

I am at my high school in Arcadia in the lunch break area near the “chuck wagon room”/food purchasing area and I soon see that someone (unknown) had drawn an abstract life-sized asymmetrical picture of a “girl” on the outer wall facing east out into the main open area with the benches, with possibly black chalk on the lighter-colored wall, but the drawing of which is mostly only made up of triangles, rectangles and lines (and likely even distorted handwriting - perhaps implied to be the artist’s signature), but still suggesting a human form overall. Later, it comes to life (after beginning to look a little more like a human form) and I want to catch “her” to get to know her (and perhaps even make love as perhaps she will become more realistic now that she is in the “real” world) but “she” has vanished after running to the north for a time and just as my dream-self starts to attain a clarity bordering on lucidity.

Looking back on this and considering how so many dreams were precognitive of my near-legendary “dream girl destiny” - I now consider that the drawing was additionally inclusive of distorted letters of the alphabet in a very similar way as the Gold Key comic book columns which featured drawings by readers of people’s bodies and faces drawn with a base of letters and numbers (and also inclusive of abstract shapes and “squiggles”). In fact, this now clear strong influence seems irrefutable - as we first made (waking reality) contact with handwritten letters. I now consider this dream fully resolved.

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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 April 4, 1976. Sunday.



There is some sort of strange weather in Arcadia which I become aware of while I am on the high school grounds. It is apparently a mysterious rain that changes people in ways that make them more menacing and selfish. People on a school bus that passes me as I walk east, even the driver, have a menacing countenance. (Normally in my dreams, rain is a positive event which I enjoy experiencing. This dream, however, is dark and eerie, though not in a directly threatening sense.) I see my best friend Toby T grinning nastily at me through the window (on the left side from the front view) of a school bus as it is ready to drive from an area that buses are never actually ever parked in real life, on the actual school grounds. It is in the area near the covered sidewalks that run north and south. No confrontations occur; just an unusual mood as I wander around, myself remaining unaffected by the “evil rain” and in fact, seemingly the only one in an outdoor setting. (This fact seems contradictory to the idea that the rain is changing people though only in conscious afterthought, as everyone else is out of the rain for the most part, though again, my dream does imply that the rain is somehow responsible) There is a continuous night-like darkness in my dream even during the supposed daytime.

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There is a possiblity that my dream was influenced by the film title “The Devil’s Rain” (from 1975) though I had only seen a few scenes from it by this date.

Morning of February 28, 1976. Saturday.



Throughout my dream, I become more and more aware that our Cubitis house has several secret exits for escape should a burglar or other criminal show up in any threatening scenario. At times, I am in the living room watching our small black and white television. There is a point at which I feel or sense that burglars could arrive in our carport. I “remember” two main escape methods as they approach our home. Though I know or sense that my parents are around, they are not directly in any scenario, though I think I see my father briefly at one point, who had been watching part of a wrestling show for a short time while standing.

One method of escape is getting into the bathtub, which then moves down more into the floor in a somewhat elevator-like manner, to be replaced by a duplicate bathtub in a suggested Ferris-wheel-like structure (though much smaller and more simplified). This way, the bathtub I am in does not have to go back up due to the other one immediately taking its place, making the escape less noticeable.

Another method of escape from the house’s known accessible rooms is via the television on the table (though which seems more like a cabinet in-dream). A fake television replaces it using an elevator-like mechanism and one can crawl into the fake television where the screen would otherwise be and go down under the house as with the bathtub (though I believe each escape route goes into a different area of our fictional basement - the Cubitis house in reality was a concrete block home with no basement or cellar).

At one point, it is too late to attempt a better escape as the two criminals (unfamiliar adult males, perhaps in their late thirties) are already at the front door, coming into the house. Instead, I pretend to be an actor inside the fake hollow television as the criminals look around. I pretend to be a card player (seemingly assuming a role in the original “Maverick” series from 1957 on) and I am sitting on my knees on the table inside the hollow television and the criminals apparently are convinced they are seeing a “real” television show for a time. I am not sure if I can reach another escape exit while the criminals are still wandering around in my house.

At least part of this dream was inspired by a View-Master reel, which featured Bugs Bunny (though shown as a 3-D plastic model, it seems) who accidentally broke Porky Pig’s television and then got inside it to perform for its owner (which shows Bugs Bunny holding a playing card hand in the last frame, apparently implying a scene from “Maverick”). It was called “TV Trouble” (1959) and can presently be viewed on YouTube. There were probably a number of dreams that were partially inspired by View-Master reels, as I had almost all that were produced during that time (including numerous ones from the 1940s sent to me by a relative), enough to fill a small suitcase, and I spent considerable time as a child (regarding total time over the years) looking at them.

Night of February 18, 1966. Friday.



When I lived on Rose Street in Wisconsin, I had a few dreams of there being a large swimming pool that took up nearly the entire back lot area, and was fenced in with an unusually high wooden fence (which I doubt could exist as such in reality). Samantha from the “Bewitched” series would visit on a broom (although she did not fly on a broom much in the actual series). The moon sometimes looked cartoon-like, or rather, like a colored-in yellow crescent with no detail, and the sky a deep blue - even with five-pointed and four-pointed stars instead of “real” ones. Since I saw the opening so often, I guess it had a lot of influence.

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Added online personal notes on Wednesday, 6 July 2016: This dream is a great example of one that holds moon induction, water induction, and a typical flight symbol. Even the fence represents a more defined liminal space.

Morning of February 14, 1976. Saturday.



In the first part of 1973 (February), which repeated with more detail in 1974 and 1976 (the Bicentennial year, which some of the final version of my dream seems to partially reflect), I had a fairly long dream (that varied in semi-lucidity and in-dream awareness from time to time) in which the main subject was a localized Nazi Germany (Hitler is mostly only seen in shadow looking out a somewhat modern-looking window as if from an apartment building - apparently he also “dubs” - makes dub music, or produces it) that was limited to the range of the cow pasture to the east of our home in Cubitis, Florida. To the south from there was a localized Afghanistan, to which Hitler goes to with a large cavalcade of jeeps with various colorful flags - not sure if it is a conquest - but the feel is not so “warlike” - at least with a personal perception - and Osbourne “King Tubby” Ruddock is riding with Hitler, decorated with all sorts of awards for valor or some such. To have “little countries” in the region did not seem odd. It also seems like some sort of alliance, but there are rows and rows of weird flags from hundreds of other countries along the length of train tracks, both real and fictional (including a United Nations flag).

My dream featured my father at the end (C. Clarence “Rider” as in one version of the song, C. C. Rider, See See Rider, etc. - although he was actually known for very long bicycle trips, not motorcycles). We had the same name. In my dream, for some reason, he has a black motorcycle (probably a 1962 Harley). On the front of his motorcycle is some sort of shield (very similar to what an interstate highway sign looks like) with the number 79 on it in red. Near the end of my dream, I am moving rather oddly, with my fists going up and around in a sort of unnatural weird leaping run. We are in the area near the train tracks and halfway in the middle (and going north) of our neighbor’s orange grove (in real life he only ever mowed the front row of his grove, and the empty area near the tracks - which I thought to be a bit strange as rattlesnakes could hide in all the high weeds). I hear a strange humming and buzzing that is rather musical. At first I think it must be Hitler playing his “Death March/Funeral March” (as jeeps roll out behind us near the train tracks) but it turns out to be the motorcycle’s engine humming that song in a very strange and simplistic (but sped up) electronic way. There is a very weird mood in my dream. It is not sad, just slightly eerie. I keep trying to walk and run normally as I try to keep up with my father but I keep leaping oddly.

Finally, instead of saying “Every Good Boy Does Fine” (the treble line notes) to talk about the music - a line he repeated now and then in real life, he softly says “Every Good Boy Dies” (with no “F” note represented) and soon, he rides off, I cannot catch up - This sheet music motif was actually on his tombstone in real life several years later (on the design request of a half-sister I had hardly ever communicated with - see image). There is no sadness, anger, or fear, just a vague sense of awe, mostly related to the weird “humming” motorcycle engine that continues to play “Funeral March” (Chopin) about twice as fast as standard. The audio in my dream was identical (with all the same tones and nuances) to the Commodore 64 Jumpman death theme (when he falls and loses a life) that I did not hear in real life until several years later (1980s, a few years after my father died) and I was also moving exactly like Jumpman (even the same in mid-leap form) regarding the weird leaping - convincing evidence of very precise precognition for years ahead.

In real life at the time, I was making electronic dub music in a very simplistic, limited way as well as other strange recordings and comedy routines with my friends. One “trick” was that I had removed the erasing heads from a tape deck so that any new recording would layer over the first (but required precise timing), but the sound’s highs would be lost on each prior layer (so it was more viable to do the bass first and then build up from each A-based range, 55, 110, 220, 440, 880, etc). Another thing I did was to keep recording layers back and forth with two tape players, but again, it required precise timing, and the tape players’ capstan tolerance levels could not be that variable, because the track would either eventually sound slowed down or sped up (which was why it was common knowledge at the time that if you dubbed that way, you should have two same-brand tape decks not more than a few serial numbers apart). My father bought secondhand cassette decks and tape players almost on a weekly basis at the weekend flea markets just north of us and we sometimes rigged rather odd setups - my father built a large speaker set with several variously sized speakers as well as owning a very large and powerful dancehall amplifier for a time - one of the built-in effects was the exact same sound the vocal uses at the end of the original “Crimson and Clover” with the wavering pseudo-tremolo.

Additional notes:

My father died on February 14, 1979 (79 being the number on the shield on the front of the motorcycle in my dream.)

Adolph Dubs (United States Ambassador to Afghanistan) died on February 14, 1979.

Much here would have been missed had I not documented this one more closely. For example, I did not even catch the “cycle of death” play until quite recently. Given that most precognitive layers within a particular dream come from different time periods yet to unfold, and just as dreams combine aspects of the past somewhat ambiguously, it is also typical to miss combined otherwise unrelated patterns (for example Adolph Dubs, Jumpman, and my father’s death really were not connected in any way). As it is, hundreds of dreams before age nine related directly to my wife-to-be with such precise nuances as to be like one “big picture” already being determined and built long before I become aware in reality.

Morning of February 9, 1976. Monday.



Nothing dramatic happens here, but my dream seems to last a long time throughout the morning. Jesus Christ, in large seemingly layered mainly white robes, seems to appear standing on our roof on the northeast area near the chimney my father built, and the concept of “rooftop Heaven” comes to mind, as well as a “Heaven” association with my dream girl (who turned out to be Zsuzsanna in every way possible, including the unlikely mixed accent of Romani Hungarian and Australian). Over time, I see miniature clouds moving through our backyard (autosymbolism for the dream state itself), not that high from the ground. It seems to be late afternoon. (Note that I am not religious and have zero interest in religious dogma despite experiencing a few miraculous healings as well as inexplicable events continuously since childhood, including my inexplicable connection to Zsuzsanna long before we met in waking life.)

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I consider this precognitive at one level, because my real wife-to-be (and I was not to make waking-life contact with Zsuzsanna for years, until March 1991) lived in Heaven when younger, a real town name in Nimbin.

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