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Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in the backseat of a car full of people, probably women ranging from my age down to about 13. The driver may have been one of the girls' mothers, and she may have acted as a mother-figure for me as well.

I think I was going to an airport. But since I had a little time before I had to catch my flight, I was going to walk through the cemetery first.

A couple of girls had gotten out of the car to let me out. The car was a big, wide, 1970s-style sedan, probably pale beige colored. We stood in a dusty parking lot that felt like it was in the middle of a construction area, like for a small business park that was just being constructed.

I was now in a tall mansion, up in a room on the second or third floor, reading. I sat in a big, heavy wood chair at a big, heavy table made of dark wood. The room was small, crammed full of all kinds of books. The floors were probably some kind of dark wood. A decent amount of daylight came in through a window.

I looked up to see that one of the women (whom I recognize as a woman who works at a bookstore I frequent in waking life) was sitting across the table from me, reading. I was surprised that she had come to read as well.

Now a couple other girls bustled into the room. They said it was time for me to go to the airport. We left the room. We walked down a tight, steep stairwell.

I kept trying to ask the woman what book she had been reading. But the other women kept dissuading me, as if we didn't have time for me to ask such a question.

We were now outside the mansion, walking down a tight, narrow, stone staircase that ran from the porch, down a steep hill of lawn and past a tall stone wall, down to the curb where our car was.

As we descended beyond the stone wall, we passed a few cluttery stacks of old-looking books. I may have heard the woman who had been reading with me telling me (through telepathy?) things about the book she had been reading. Either she or I had been reading a book having something to do with Irish culture, possibly the Celtic aspect of it.

Night of November 1, 1986. Saturday. (This would be a day after Halloween. Keep that in mind.)



Even though this dream seems primarily impersonal and I seem to be disembodied for the most part in the majority of the scenes, there is a sense of eeriness throughout (but no direct physical threat at any point). It mostly involves a colony of bats that are somewhat anthropomorphic and of which that in turn suggests a link to gargoyles to some extent. They mostly seem to come from a hidden underground area in a fictional cemetery in La Crosse. This fictional cemetery is northwest of my sister’s house on Loomis Street. This location superimposed in reality would possibly seem to occupy the parking lot in what is now the Coulee Montessori Charter School and part of Roosevelt Park.

There is an idea at one point that the bat-like creatures “escaped” from an unknown realm that people perhaps accidentally disturbed with mining activities.

At one point, I watch more than a dozen of the creatures fly out from a west-facing mausoleum (which, through extensive research, is very similar to an Oakwood one in Troy, New York). My dream takes on that eerie stop-motion animation artificial feel very similar to the original “Jason and the Argonauts” from 1963, a movie I saw a few times as a boy and which influenced many of my dreams over time, specifically, in this case, the very similar harpies. The mausoleum is vaguely reminiscent of the White House, which is a bit curious (and perhaps relevant) I think, though the columns could be modeled after the harpies scene in the aforementioned movie.

Again, I am not attacked or threatened but it seems there are other (unknown) people that are attacked and possibly killed during a picnic though I do not witness the events that closely or much gore.

This is partially like a typical movie-like dream where scenes change (or “jump cut”) completely every several minutes, but still with the overall similar bats theme and still within a non-varying dream awareness for the most part.

However, in one “reset” (where the awareness slightly increases), it actually seems as if I am one of the creatures or at least “in league” with them (which makes sense, as I, the dreamer, am their creator after all). At one point I get a very vague impression they may be robotic, but this is unlikely and my brief distorted impression as such was probably only caused by the odd stop-motion movement. There is no vampire association at any point, though there is a vague “church” association or feeling at one point, yet mostly undefined and unresolved.



Most dreams with more detail involving normal bats (and importantly, I stress “normal” here) and additional but unrelated events to the main bat theme are long-term precognitive in nature even over many years (such as regarding my extensively documented and researched “Patches” recurring dream series). This clarifies how bats represent “messengers” from the “caves” of the supraconscious, often in a positive sense or personally good outlook (only incidentally because one does not ordinarily attribute birds to exploring and dwelling in caves or dark recesses of metaphorical mysteries). People who do not know any better might associate with bats solely in a negative sense, and this example in turn was probably influenced by popular media and the popular symbols of Halloween, unfortunately (or fortunately if you like meandering “monster dreams” which are not intense enough to be nightmares or with any feasible personal symbolism).

Morning of February 14, 1982. Sunday.



This is one of those “riding around in a car while relatives look for something” dreams, more common when I was much younger. I am with my brother-in-law Bob though at another point seem to be with someone else who is driving (possibly brother-in-law Mel and my sister Carol). I am in the back seat on the right side for the most part and my dream wavers between being alert and feeling a bit “off”.

There is a strong focus on finding a “bird cemetery” that takes up exactly one city block, or so it seems. However, over time, I get a very eerie feeling that something is not quite right. Time does not seem to pass normally as if I am living within some sort of looped or repeating situation. It does not come to my awareness at all that there are no bird cemeteries as such, and such an idea does not even seem strange to me in-dream. In fact, I get the impression that most bird cemeteries are probably a little bigger than many human cemeteries. At one point, it seems we pass the same bird cemetery several times (even though we do not make any turns, it seems) but do not stop because, for some reason, it is not the right one (the one we apparently are actually going to stop and visit). I see more and more bird cemeteries that seem similar or are somehow the “same” one and begin to recognize that there are hardly any other landmarks or areas with normal buildings (so that perhaps the “same” one-block bird cemetery is to be seen for three blocks in a row, that is, three instances of it). My uncomfortable awareness that I am stuck in some sort of “loop” remains until I wake as well as some sort of other unnamed but eerie association I cannot quite put words to (though my dream is too emotionless otherwise to be nightmarish).

This dream possibly came from (or was influenced by) the line “the mockingbird still singing o'er her grave”, as I get a vague impression that many of the birds are probably mockingbirds, shrikes, and starlings - this in turn possibly layered with the otherwise unrelated novel title “To Kill a Mockingbird”.

Update (July 2, 2015): I should probably add in this online entry that when I was very young, I very much thought that the line “the mockingbird still singing o'er her grave” was about the ghost of a mockingbird singing over her own grave. This is probably important regarding this particular dream’s distortion, as it was also a song my father sang (and he died on the fourteenth of February in 1979).

Night of February 13, 1971. Saturday.



Brenda W, a female classmate I was fairly close to, and who lived just north of me in Florida, turned out to seem to also be some sort of dream symbol and remarkable catalyst for my future wife (there seemed nothing like this for the “other” - Susan R - although she was already present in my life at the time, so did not need a precognitive or anachronistic catalyst, I guess). There is a lot of evidence for this as well as some pretty strange synchronicity on top of precognitive aspects over a longer time period, some now just coming to light which I will add here, as in all honesty “it never ends” as the deeper I look the more “impossible” synchronicity unfolds, in layers, going far beyond being mathematically possible by chance alone.

In the first part of my dream, which seems to be taking place fairly late at night, I go to Brenda W’s house with a larger bouquet of flowers to give to her. As I am walking along, I horrifyingly notice that a yellow bulldozer had ran over and killed her just prior to my arriving, possibly by minutes (I associated yellow in my dreams with “caution” at the time - as with traffic lights and painted borders on floors for possible hazards). Her right hand, from the lower part of the wrist up, is sticking up from the ground (where there is no grass but a few stones here and there). The rest of her had been covered up. I am in awe over the melancholy scene. My dream fades or shifts into the next scene…

I am at the cemetery a few blocks from the school - I had ridden my bicycle past there (instead of taking the school bus most of that year) in real life several years later. In my dream, I am at Brenda’s grave. It seems to be open to display her in almost as a sort of Snow White scenario (or perhaps the grave is not “finished” yet?). It is at one of the graves closer to the road, but as I do not have the luxury yet of knowing the exact location/lot, I do not yet know whose grave it actually was in real life (something I would like to know) as although some cemeteries have exact locations of lot views online, this one does not and I do not quite have enough time to do more extensive research presently.

I reach down to tentatively touch her and get a strange sensation of sticky cellophane covering her entire form. This fallacy seems somewhat “logical” in my dream. It is a fictional way of preserving her appearance, I suppose, similar to how a poster is laminated to make it last much longer. It is a very sad scene for me. I look upon her laminated body for what seems like a long time before I resign to continuing with my life.

Later on (seemingly much later in my dream - perhaps two weeks or more), I am walking in the main part of town. I see Brenda, alive and apparently healthy and uninjured, walking around in the distance. I start to approach her, but she runs off (after stopping and watching me for a minute or so as I go closer to her), appearing to be frightened of everything - or perhaps she does not want to be “discovered” (alive again) by anyone who knew her yet. This happens a few times and I am never able to catch up with her or find where she is staying. I see her vanish among smaller groups of people and she always somehow eludes me. Perhaps she is lost and does not know where to go.

Doing a bit of research, I found a different Brenda W (perhaps her grandmother) in a cemetery near where her family would have originally lived, and that other Brenda died on my wife’s birthday in 1991 - which is the year we first made contact. It was also in block 36, which was the number of my wife’s street address when we first made contact. Layer upon layer, it never ends.

So, the Brenda W in my dream was running away, perhaps in being a symbol of my future wife, was not to be in my path at that time.

Oak Ridge link

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The event where I touch Brenda’s “corpse” (the back of her left hand) in her open casket relates to a (subliminal) interest in the nature of sleeping and dreaming and is also a dream sign (as she is in a sleeping position and was likely also asleep at the time of my dream in the same directional orientation - thus on one level, this was likely distorted remote viewing). Additionally, the fact that Brenda; neighbor, friend, and classmate; was the only female as such in my youth that I perceived as dying and coming back to life (in a number of dreams) and who was also confirmed as a “stand-in” for my soulmate Zsuzsanna (other than when my “mystery girl” herself appeared, sometimes distorted into some of Brenda’s features), it speaks volumes.

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