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Morning of April 9, 1984. Monday.



I was in bed, listening to The Alan Parsons Project’s “Tales of Mystery and Imagination: Edgar Allan Poe”. I imagined the imagery and detail. It was one of my favorite cassettes of the time, along with their “I Robot” album.

In one vivid dream of the “mystery girl”, the petite Persian Hungarian gypsy girl from Australia (with a curious mixed accent) with the beautiful green eyes and dark curly hair, there is a storm coming; a large tornado. This, for whatever reason, does not concern me all that much.

As the tornado gets closer, I do feel a slight wariness. The tornado is the lower half of the Merkaba in dreams, and at other levels, is the unknown future or “destiny” if you will. On another level it is the energies of the supraconscious (Universal Mind) in connecting with other levels of consciousness as perceived by the conscious mind; that is, other “realms” of mind and supraconscious exchanging energies as a new force as with a cold front meeting a warm front in causing wind and stormy weather. As I am at least partly lucid, I am not worried about being killed. Once I step into the tornado I see a beautiful young girl and recognize her as my “dream girl”. She leans back on a bed and as I approach her (in this case, I somehow see myself approaching her) there is a sense of wholeness. It is almost as if I rose above the tornado and looked down into it, where everything was clear and blue, a circular portal; an image of fulfillment.

In a dream within a dream, I am seemingly Edgar Allan Poe in a way. My dream journals are so extensive that I have indexes within indexes, often copied to new journals with additional important observations and notes added. A raven wants to be fed stale undercooked hamburger, which it seems to like more than bologna or canned fish. I seem to receive a very important “warning” related to not allowing “ordinary” people to influence me in any way and not allow them to “interpret” not only my dreams, but even ideas I develop over time out of life experiences. I sensed an unusual idea that other people one day, around the world, would see a small part of my childhood dream work as well as other writing. Of course, this seemed like a preposterous idea. How could one just “show their dreams on television for others to watch” whenever they felt like it? Perhaps the advancements of computers could achieve this? Likely far too expensive for the average person to ever be feasible…

One person said that the tornado was related to my “mental turmoil” (though I had less “turmoil” than others I knew) over my pretense that I would be married to a beautiful girl and have children within ten years or so. The raven was perhaps a burden, it was claimed, a “shadowy presence” representing despair, “a shadow hanging over me”. However, in my dreams, my two youngest “fictional” children learn from the raven, which speaks to them of the patterns of life and nature. I supposed other people would have been happy over me never marrying who I considered the most beautiful girl on Earth in another country. People in general have mostly only “cop outs” to share, “cop outs” which never have any value, except in learning and knowing what not to do or what not to believe from others or society as a whole.

Years later, in real life, after I married my dream girl, “our” raven sat on my chair watching me type on my computer. My two healthy and loving children enjoyed having a raven in the house for a few weeks until I decided it was fully healed (from a non-fatal dog attack) enough to fly on its own. It still came back and said “hi” now and then…but there was one time at the computer, when I reached behind me to give it a piece of raw stale hamburger and gave it a pat that I thought of the potential for the majority of “ordinary” human beings to ever accept the truth…or in fact, have any credibility at all. I almost thought I heard the raven quote (deep in the recesses of my mind) “nevermore”.

Morning of April 3, 1982. Saturday.



I am in La Crosse, Wisconsin on the south side of town and west of the main library. There are a number of other people around, mostly unknown. There is a tornado coming in our direction (from the southwest), or so it seems for several minutes. I can hear the train-like rumbling sounds (like with a real tornado but which may be caused by real environmental noise such as louder traffic while sleeping). I am with some friends and we and the other people are eventually running everywhere, though mostly north.

All of a sudden, there is a strange screeching sound (again, possibly caused by real-life environmental sounds intruding into my dream without waking me, such as a vehicle’s brakes squealing). We look back and it turns out to have been an enormous caterpillar spinning a cocoon and was not a tornado. Everything is quiet now that the caterpillar has entered this stage and is vertically oriented within the giant cocoon, apparently sleeping and not threatening in any way. Additionally, I get the impression that it was not actually chasing us. We just happened to originally be in the area it was coincidentally moving towards during the faux chase. Eventually, I become semi-lucid and personally indulge in sensual pleasures in an offset scenario until I choose to wake.

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Resupplemented for a clearer and more detailed explanation on Saturday, 2 December 2017.

There are really two levels to this dream, a natural (biological) ordinary meaning and a spiritual meaning if one is so inclined. On the natural level, a tornado is a factor of RAS and inner ear dynamics as precursory waking symbolism, an extreme augmentation analogous to potential dizziness in real life. In this case, that aspect is validated by a second inner ear dynamic, the potential butterfly flight symbol, which is “frozen” and thus as a result, triggering lucidity against the subdued RAS factor (similar to the “frozen” bird silhouettes in more recent apex lucidity dreams). On one level of course, this dream was at least partly influenced by “Mothra” (a 1961 movie).

Spiritually, tornadoes represent the powerful bottom half of the Merkaba (even in my earliest childhood dreams) and, due to the “raw force” of a tornado, relate to personal dream state alchemy. (In certain trance states of deep meditation, I vividly experience the Merkaba by touching my wife Zsuzsanna on the shoulder, the Merkaba of which appears as two blue tornadoes uniting, rotating in opposite directions, with extraordinarily vivid impressions which I can only describe as seeing hundreds of different wedding ceremonies of different cultures and eras.) The transition from tornado to caterpillar-in-cocoon implies a waiting stage prior to changing into a butterfly (a type of personal ascension or implying the state of readiness for meeting my “dream girl” in real life).

Susan R (the only person other than Zsuzsanna of whom I could ever sense as existing on other levels) and Zsuzsanna (before I knew she was a real person) drew identical vertically-oriented anthropomorphic caterpillars in a top hat (as if one had been traced over the other with even the same stray line) as a part of an otherwise dissimilar story. (One of my relatives was scared and angered by seeing this as most ordinary people do not like the unexplained, though over time, changed their way of thinking and was eventually glad I had found my “dream girl” after so many precise clues over so many years.)

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“The caterpillar makes an appearance in a few other places outside ‘Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland’, such as 'American McGee’s Alice’ and the novel 'The Looking-Glass Wars’; in both of these spin-offs he plays the role of an oracle.”

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Morning of August 7, 1969. Thursday.



I am in the backyard of my Cubitis home at some time during late morning. The sun is shining and the weather seems fine overhead. However, to the east, beyond the railroad tracks and the expansive farmland, is a tornado, heading straight towards my home. In the area farther out towards the tracks and where we usually burn rubbish in real life, is what looks like an old worn plaid blanket (which is dirty and with a few holes) within the unburnt trash and ashes. There are at least six or seven recently born kittens on the blanket squirming around, a few noticeably calico. I do not know where they came from, but they seem to be my responsibility. There is an ambiguous awareness of being indoors looking down at a bed, even though I am also aware of being outside in a different location at the same time.

“You can’t die,” I say fairly softly and mournfully (though without any perceived personal worry), hearing my own young voice very clearly and vividly. I plan to take them from the area with no thought of anything else. I am almost lucid, but slowly wake.

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Understanding the dream state and the biological nature of RAS mediation will help in understanding a dream’s real meaning to rise above the erroneous concept of “interpretation” in the popular misuse of the term. There are obvious clues here.

Firstly, a tornado is a common dream feature for me, not always threatening, and was validated in childhood to be, at the mundane level (though there is also the spiritual association regarding the Merkaba), autosymbolism based on the naturally ambiguous dynamics of the vestibular system loosely associated with the dizziness of spinning even when this is not a direct factor, though of course avoiding a tornado is related to avoiding the faux vertigo of liminal space. This means that my dream self has a subliminal awareness of being in the dream state. What are some other clues? The kittens in the blanket are another clue. A blanket being rendered means I am probably subliminally aware I am asleep (without my conscious self identity being within the dream state itself).

Additionally, saying “You can’t die” is another dream state indicator from “If I die before I wake”, from a “prayer” that I never even considered uttering at any point in my childhood (even though some children supposedly utter this “prayer” prior to sleep, but what kind of a parent would allow this, I cannot even imagine it), though I had heard about it around the time of this dream. Thank goodness I was born into a family that did not practice such a grim ritual.

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Morning of July 27, 1974. Saturday.

Dream #: 2,777-01. 38 second read.





In the late morning, I am in the southwest bedroom of my home in Cubitis, looking out our jalousie windows (south wall) toward the southwest.

I sense my mother sitting in the room (to my left), possibly sewing.

There is a radio broadcast about a tornado watch. I anticipate its approach from the southwest, but I remain unconcerned.

When the "tornado" arrives, it is invisible. There is no evidence of wind. I vividly feel our house gently lifting about three feet from the ground and slowly floating north for several feet, with no discernible damage. I remain by the windows, feeling amused. I think of it as the remaining part of the storm. The neighbor's house to the south remains on the ground.

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As I have explained numerous times in my reports, a tornado often results from my metacognitive anticipation of the vestibular-motor sensations caused by REM sleep. With the outcome of this narrative, there should be no doubt whatsoever.

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Night of May 19, 1972. Friday.



In this dream, there was a hurricane occurring and it may be early morning. At the time it started to become more noticeable, I was outside near my Cubitis house in the northern section of the yard as well as walking in the carport, and as the wind became stronger, I somehow ended up holding onto the north-facing incline of the shed roof in the area closer to the entrance and yet not being carried away by the strong wind. (This scene, however, would not have been possible in reality, as the roof was smooth tin and had no features to hold on to.) Most of the roof remained stable and mostly undamaged as well other than at least one sheet of tin flying off. The wind seemed to last a long time. At one point, it is as if I am seeing myself clutching at the shed roof near the apex (peak) or at least lying upon the incline (the entire shed of which my father built) while looking from my disembodied self’s right (by which my perspective seems to be from floating slightly more northward of the scene). I can even see “swirly mostly horizontal curved lines” (as if in a comic strip) that supposedly represent the forces of the wind. I am not sure what the fate is of any other people in the region including my parents. Perhaps I will be the only one left? The thought of being the only person left causes me to wonder how I will get food and fend for myself though there is also an odd sense of comfort at one point, which continues to grow, probably do to emerging lucidity (and being grateful I am only dreaming), though nothing occurs after this.

Wind most often represents the passage of time or a concern with the passage of time (aging). This dream may also simply represent the waking process while trying to “hold onto the dream state” and not wanting to yet get on with the real-life day’s unfolding. Many other storm, hurricane, or tornado dreams may relate to trying to hold onto the dream state or even a particular level of consciousness, thus a storm comes to wake you (depending on what part of the dream the storm occurs in).

On a side note, the first actual storm of this time period was Subtropical Storm Alpha (also called Alfa) on May 23, 1972 though I never concluded this was precognitive in any sense.

Night of November 19, 1971. Friday.

Dream #: 1,796-02. Reading time: 1 min 40 sec.



While in the Cubitis house’s living room, I hear on my mother’s radio (her pale green one that was sometimes atop our refrigerator) about a twister approaching from the west. I am concerned that Brenda does not know about it. I plan to go to her house to get her so that we can escape from it. (I do not see or consult my parents even though I am only ten years old, though this was typical in my childhood dreams.)

As with the majority of my dreams, features are incorrect without my dream self’s realization that they are. In this case, Brenda’s house is incorrectly east of my house (where the cow pasture is in real life) rather than north of it. Also, Arcadia is east of my home rather than south.

As the tornado is approaching, I go into Brenda’s house without knocking and say hello to her. (Neither her parents nor brothers are present.) We are suddenly in her kitchen. She looks annoyed with me and moves around a table to avoid me. I convince her of the danger, and she happily comes with me. We manage to avoid the tornado. It is seemingly a result of running in specific directions and being in particular places for a time, even though we seem to backtrack at times.

In the last scene, we are sitting at a big water fountain in an unknown city that seems to be a newly built resort. (The twister had supposedly destroyed it, but it was somehow quickly rebuilt while we were traveling. The tornado was there before us even though we were running from the opposite direction).

We eat sandwiches that had been in transparent sandwich bags (that it seems we were carrying even though this backstory did not have a foundation) and smile happily in the knowledge the worst is over. I have a vague sense we may be near Disney World. (It would be in a different location in reality as it seems we are not that far east of my house.)

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My dream coincided with the opening of Disney’s Fort Wilderness Resort and Campground in Orlando, Florida. I might have heard about it, so I am uncertain if it was a precognitive factor.

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The fountain and surrounding area now make me think of one of the first public places I went with my wife Zsuzsanna in Brisbane in 1994. It was like in my dream and with the same cheerful essence when I was with Zsuzsanna.

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Friday, 15 January 1971. 1,488-N1. 36 second read.



From the front door of my Cubitis home, I walk onto the carport at midnight. The house is high in the sky inside a tornado.

A bird as tall as me flies straight through the spinning debris beyond the carport.

His appearance is that of a sparrowhawk. He lands on the edge of the east end of the carport but remains still after ruffling his feathers. I sense he is here to help me. He wears a crown. I have a deep feeling of peace and timelessness.

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Note: There was a minimal influence from the Woggle-Birds act from “Jack and the Beanstalk” (1967) and the twister scene from “The Wizard of Oz” (1939).

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My dream begins with the physiological influence of vestibular-motor sensations (from REM atonia). It changes from spontaneous vestibular-motor responses to controlled and more defined.

A crown appears with increased dream state awareness. It reveals higher metacognitive management of the dream state.

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Sunday, 13 September 1970. 1,364-M1. 1 min 11 sec read.



A tornado approaches Arcadia, Florida, from the southwest in the morning. I do not consider it a threat to my Cubitis home about four miles north of Arcadia, but I wonder if it will reach my school.

At the end of the driveway of Kenny and Karen’s home; is an elevated podium where an unfamiliar dark-haired man of about 30 gives a cheerful lecture about tornadoes. He faces Highway Seventeen. A small crowd stands on the wayside. The man’s head and shoulders are about three feet above the audience as I watch from my bedroom windows. I zoom in on the scene. He uses a pointer stick on a picture of the “tornado” on an easel to his left.

The “tornado’s anatomy” picture is only a series of sparse horizontal lines on a white background. The simple diagram suggests a tornado’s shape, but I am puzzled by its lack of detail.

I think about how the tornado will affect my school. I find myself in my school’s playground. The tornado arrives but is only as high as a single-storey house. I neither feel its wind nor sense peril. I stand on the south side of the hexagonal merry-go-round, thinking I could save my schoolmates.

I grab the merry-go-round’s metal bar and run in a circle to counteract the tornado.

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Note: The end of Kenny and Karen’s driveway is where we waited for the school bus in some semesters.

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My dream begins with the physiological influence of vestibular-motor sensations (from REM atonia). It changes from spontaneous vestibular-motor responses to controlled and more defined.

A tornado approaches, but I know it will dissipate when I spin the merry-go-round. Also, I associate the area where we waited for the bus with expecting the vestibular-motor sensations of riding a bus.

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