Daen's Dream Journalism.

[Daen]

Dream Viewing (Lucid= 55%) 24th August 2006 I’m at Gerry’s house (my ex-girlfriend’s father) with Lanika (my little sister) and Kimberley (my ex-girlfriend). We leave during the night to check out an old house in the woods that we’ve heard about. We arrive and there’s a really big, imposing fence around it. It is very tall with about seven horizontal lines of barb wire pitched at a forty-five degree angle from the top toward the enclosed yard. I say to Gerry, “now that’s a fence”. He smiles and agrees. [When I lived with my ex, I worked for her Dad in construction for about a year. He was the foreman and I was his trade-assistant- shit kicker- thus, the little inside joke, that doesn’t actually seem that funny]. Somehow Lanika and I get in there and we sort of walk around a bit. It is a large front yard with patchy, hilly earth and bushy grass; a bit like what you’d expect from a paintball skirmish area. There’s about an acres worth leading up to an old, shack-style house (it’s not too shabby though, it stands up and even has a verandah of sorts). I make a kind of joke to scare Lanika by saying, “look, there’s something up there in the house.” She doesn’t get scared though, but then out comes a big fat woman (redneck-type from movies) with a shot gun. She points it at us ominously and sits down on a chair on her front porch and we’re like, “Ohh, Kayyy” and we walk away and out of her property. As we walk into the surrounding wooded area we’re talking; Lanika is saying something when I notice a bit of glide-foot action, so I test whether I’m dreaming or not by floating onto my back. Although it’s not too strong (my vision seems a little dark and my awareness is not great), I become lucid and I say, “Hey! We’re dreaming.” [“Glide-foot action” is my most noticed anomaly in dreams. It has been my most successful Dream Sign. It took a good couple of years to wake me up to dreaming because it was so subtle. It basically involves me noticing (usually by looking at my feet while walking or running) that I have a very smooth action and ability to place my feet where ever I would like; whether that be a metre or two past where they would naturally fall (in waking life), over a certain obstacle or distance marker or in a graceful motion unlike normal walking or running. Now-a-nights, I rarely miss this tell-tale sign, always thinking to myself, “I can’t usually do that!”] They don’t understand what I’m saying really, so I explain, “I can prove it. Hold your nose closed and breathe in.” [A reality check that I got from Dream Views, Dae!] I don’t even do it myself and Lanika says, “Well, hold on” because she wants to finish her story, which is about Liam (my third youngest brother, Lanika’s first oldest brother) sweating about something. Then she says, “Hey that is a really good technique actually.” Unfortunately at this point (or another escaping my memory) I lose the dream. I try to spin to prolong it but it’s too late. I know that I’ve woken up, but my eyes are closed and I haven’t moved my body so I think that this would be a good opportunity to try some Astral Projection but I have quite a stabbing pain in my back that is too distracting. In fact, I think that might be what woke me up. I was all geared to try some heart-surgery as well! Oh well, any lucidity is good lucidity. I had a couple of other dreams that my new Long-haired Golden Retriever puppy insisted I not record. They involved a pet rat that I had to protect, a carnival of some kind (that I have been to before) and a performance that my ex-ex-girlfriend (my first- we were high school sweethearts and we lived together for a couple of years after we finished school) and I had to plan (for my grandparents?) Dae 237.

[Daen]

High School Tripartition Friday, 25th of August Part One I am going on a high school excursion to America, I think. Apparently, I keep on forgetting things (just like when I was in high school in waking life), the most recent of which is my jumper (I lost countless school jumpers in my teens, actually I lost one yesterday&#33. I yell about this because I know I have used up my “I-need-to-go-backs” so afterward, I accept that I don’t have a jumper and that I will have to buy one when we get there with the limited spending money I have ($50 AU + $70 to be given to us as part of the excursion). In a growing crescendo of frustration I yell, “fuck, FuCk, FUCK!!!” People just smile and laugh as if to say, “Oh, Robbie.” Haywood Fraser [my most common high school dream character- also my bully from waking life], Mason Martin [his less offensive, quite funny friend], Kevin [my ex-girlfriend’s brother] and Shaun Cottrell [my best friend from year 5 to year 8] are there in the car/bus thing. Mr Widdock [my old P.E. teacher- high school] is taking us. As we’re reversing out from the school driveway, Joe [my step sister] is running along side, signaling us to stop. They stop and let her in. “Forget about me did you guys?” she asked. “They did,” I say playfully. “I was all like, there’s too much testosterone in this car. We must be missing some girls. Joe’s not here, and (I say someone else’s name that rhymes with “Joe” for example, “Flow”) Flow. Joe and Flow, make the car go. Joe and Flow, make the car go.” In the front seat Haywood mimics me in his familiar old bully style, it makes me uncomfortable like it used to back then. [I wake up and record the dream, have a drink of water and try and re-enter it… I am successful.] Part Two Liam [my youngest brother] and I get up late after the “school social dance” last night. We are in an excursion bus that has beds and TV’s. I am watching cartoons. At some point we start to tap dancing together. Bill [my Mother’s new boyfriend] comes in; he’s been coordinating some of the excursion with Mum. “Why is everyone going back down to the hall?” I ask, as I watch people filing past the windows but in the distance a bit. “I don’t know, you guys should be going as well,” he replies in a semi-agitated voice. “Nah,” I reply, smiling. “Nahh.” At this point Liam turns into Kieran. “You guys haven’t brought any bongs have you?” I can tell that he has a headache and needs some relief. Kieran pulls one out and loads it up (there is a party-sized cone-piece, so he only quarter fills it because Bill doesn’t usually smoke) and hands it to him. “No,” he says insistently but with enough humour not to sound pushy. “In secret, in secret! Come on.” So I close the curtain on the window of the bus/cabin that would allow people to see in. As I do this I see Mum walking across the road with an angry expression like she’s pissed off about something (a face I know well in waking life). “Mum’s coming,” I warn. With a start Bill hands the bong to Liam (who’s back, seemingly) and Liam hands it to me. “Get rid of it!” says Bill. Liam’s laughing, I’m laughing. Now Shannan’s there [the second eldest sibling in our family; 18 months younger than me] and he’s laughing too- he thinks it’s funny as, but he likes Bill a lot [he hasn’t met him in waking life yet]. I end up putting the bong in my clothes cupboard and it stinks, I figure I’m taking one for the team. At the social the night before, Erica [my first love, first kiss, first...] was angry at me for giving someone monopoly money that I was supposed to pay for some thing or another. I was trying to explain that it wasn’t my fault because someone had given me the money and I didn’t realise it wasn’t real. [This is the second time I have tried to use monopoly money to pay someone, much to their distaste]. As we’re talking, Nathan Jones [a ‘sook’ high school character] comes along and says, “hey, don’t take my money!” [At this point I wake up again and take a “Mega B” vitamin because I had been reading about it on Dream Views that night. It only contained 50 milligrams of B6, with an assortment of other B’s and Folic Acid &c.] Part Three After returning from the excursion of the last dream, I’m walking to the outside oval (at our high school- don’t know if we ever got to America) when I see XX [a female high school character from waking life that I should not disclose the name of- you’ll see why]. I walk up beside her and say hello. She seems pissed off with me. “What’s wrong,” I ask. “How can you say what you said?” she demands. “What did I say?” “On the bus, you were saying that teachers don’t respect you until you leave school. You said it was like they don’t like kids.” “It was just a meaningless observation, I didn’t mean anything particular by it. Why did it upset you so much?” I ask, puzzled. “Why do you think?” “Is it because your Dad is a teacher?” “Yes” she replies. “What are you worried about then? Are you upset because I suggested that your Dad doesn’t like children in school or that he doesn’t love you as a father?” She storms off and we’re outside, I catch up to her and we walk past some people playing Rugby Union- the ball is kicked out. “Your Dad’s probably an exception to the rule. It’s not a hard and fast thing.” She sighs, deflated. “If you could only know.” She is almost malicious. Now she says, “No, I want you to know.” She turns me to face her directly. I step in closer for her to speak to me, I have a feeling I know what she is going to say. “I never told you about how my father touched me.” I hold her closer to me, trying to comfort her. Almost crying she adds (but still as if she is trying to shock me), “I never told you how I begged him to do it!” I hold her head to my chest and gently say, “It’s OK, it’s OK. It doesn’t matter.” She cries and now her father pulls into the parking lot in a really small, shabby car that looks more like a go-kart. I think it even has a blue tarpaulin for the roof. I notice that if two people were in the car they would be sitting really close. I am about to tell her about someone else I know who has the same problem, to try and help her to feel less alone but she breaks away from me and walks over toward her father. When she gets about four metres away she turns back and says, “I love you Robbie.” It’s a very final statement, to which I can’t reply. I am shocked and worried for her. She mustn’t walk to the car (or maybe she does) because I walk past it and say, “Hi, Mr XY” in a very normal tone so as not to cause further problems for XX. “G’day mate,” he said creepily and suspiciously. I walk away. [I wake up now. I record the dream and then try and go back to sleep. I don’t like my chances because the sun is beaming in through the window. Instead of another dream I get some very interesting hypnopompic imagery that I get lost in. Eventually it turns into a semi-dream, as I forgot that I was awake… make sense?] I am at Shannan’s house and his next door neighbour says that he has met this woman who can get me anything I want (drugs). I ask him if she can get any DMT. He replies, “Anything”. The thought crosses my mind that I don’t want to get DMT from a) a young person; and b) a woman who also sells “Speed”, “Heroin” and “Coke”. I ask him how old she is and he replies that he doesn’t know. “40, 55?” I ask him, hopefully but also a little confident that one of these answers is correct. Images scatter. I find myself now in the same room talking to Brad Guthry [A light-hearted redneck high school character- more Haywood’s friend than mine, but still friendly]. I ask him if he ever dreams of high school characters and laugh, very amused. He laughs in a similar manner and says, “All the time mate!” “Who in particular?” was the last thing I remember asking.

[Daen]

Dream Characters One [In this section I will document all of the dream characters I meet, in order of frequency]. Myself = Robert George Stockton. I was born in 1982, I am the eldest of 5 children in a family with separated parents (why me!?) I live in Australia; I lived firstly in the state of NSW, then I moved out of home to the ACT, then I moved on to live with my last girlfriend in WA... then I cut the tendons in my right hand and decided I should return 'home' to NSW, Coffs Harbour area (Repton, Bellingen to be precise). I have been struggling with a chronic pain disorder for over three years now and have turned to my spirituality to find the greater scope of what is happening to me, who and where I AM. I started dreaming lucidly in 2002 after watching, "Waking Life". I had wanted to be lucid and to project astrally since I was thirteen. Haywood Fraser = a guy (boy, lol) that bullied me from Year 5 to Year 10. He became particularly 'active' when we went from our little Catholic school to the mixed high school where he found great affinity with a variety of rednecks from the public school. The common denominator between them all was quite a deal of stupidity, which I am sure they shared with their parents. They begrudged my interest in school and the fact that I excelled at it if I wanted to (until I dumbed it down just to avoid the tension)... also in a self-professing "logging town" (Bombala, NSW) my gentle, "greeny" attitude was generally not appreciated. Haywood is rarely "the bully" in my dreams and often plays a curious role (but then sometimes he is just a bully). Once, early in my dreaming adventures I am sure he intended to help me get lucid. We were standing on a balcony together and I felt a certain power, like he no longer controlled me, so I pretended that I was going to jump over the edge to scare him. He smiled (friendly) and suggested that I jump down a few levels and visit some friends of his below. I was going to do it (and become lucid) but I woke up. I have never actually become Lucid with Haywood, I would dearly love to though. I could ask him why the hell he's always in my damned dreams! I know he is there to teach/show me something, but I haven't cranked up the awareness enough to ask him. Kimberley = my ex-girlfriend. After I cut my hand in April I had to return to my family to be looked after, as the trauma compounded and intensified my existing pain disorder. We had a wonderful relationship that went through many complicated twists and turns. e.g. her heroin addiction, acute depression and my chronic illness. We got through all the major stuff together but by the end we were too deeply involved in a destructive cycle where we both felt unappreciated, alone and unloved. Sad, huh? So we broke it off and are now best friends. In a lot of ways we had a faery-tale relationship- but along with the romance and comfort also came the darkness inherent in most faery-tales too. She is now studying Psychology at Uni and doing really well. I am proud of her, and I miss her too. Shaun Cottrell = my best friend from Year 5 to year 8 or so. He was a real little rebel when I first met him; always in fights, arguing with teachers &c.) but apparently I had a calming influence on him (I was a very innocent youngster). After we got into high school we sort of drifted apart as I was always trying to stay out of trouble with "the redneck group" and impress the girls that I liked. I eventually hung out exclusive with the girls (and some other guys who sat in our 'area&#39. Nathan Jones = my first Dream Sign. For the first three lucid dreams I had he was always there and it was always in the school basketball court (he was very tall and basketball was about all he was good at). He was well-known in both primary school and high school as a sook and would often cry- especially when physically provoked, like flicking his ears on the bus or something. He has slowed down over the years (in my dreams) but is now turning up again. Welcome back Nathan. Erica Gollege = my first love. I became semi-obsessed with her when I moved into high school (she was from the public primary school) in Year 7 and I spent the next 3 years trying to get her to like me. It's almost like I willed myself to act, think and even look a certain way to engage her interest. Of course we became "best friends" eventually (by about halfway through Year Eight) and i watched her "go out" with almost every boy in our class (including the dreaded Haywood Fraser, Brett Pagdon and Mason Martin from the "Redneck Group". While waiting for her I stared reading up on the "occult" (which is where I learned about Lucid Dreaming incidentally). As she was foremost on my mind those days the first "spell/ritual" I tried was one for "love". It warned me about the three-fold law but I did it anyway. I don't know if it was because of the spell (but I have a suspicion it was) but soon after we "got together". We went out for a year and then we both moved from our native Bombala to different places after Year 10. She went to Newcastle and I came here, to Bellingen. We maintained a long-distance relationship until we finished school and then we moved in together in Canberra, where I did Contemporary Music and she did Make-up Artistry. We were both a little Goth until we broke up two years later. Shannan = my next younger brother. He is 18 months younger than me. We went to the same Senior College (Years 11 and 12) in Coffs Harbour and we hung out in the same group, both avidly Goth. We grew close then and when I left for Canberra we bonded over email, learning more about each other than we known when we lived together. A year later he and his girlfriend, Emma, moved to Canberra to be near Erica and I. We helped them find an apartment in the suburb next to ours. Shannan got me into two things; skating and smoking weed. I had never dreamed of skating because I thought I was too unco for it but skating together I soon fixed that and loved it. A while later I started smoking with him (he had been smoking everyday from year 12 and I only occasionally did- but loved it- from Year 11). For a year we skated and smoked together and we became really close. Emma was tired of Canberra (don't blame her&#33 and missed her Mum and her homeland, Bellingen, so they returned home. They had a devastating amount of miscarriages from the time when they were 16 but eventually had a perfect, gorgeous boy they named, Toban. They made me his Godfather, which I was and will always be so honoured to be. Emma was the one who turned me onto, "Conversations with God" so the title meant a lot to us both (much more than the Christian one). They are pregnant again now with another baby boy! Emma is entering the third trimester as I type (25th August). He, Dion, is due on December the 8th. Shannan still smokes a lot of weed these days, it is almost a religion for him, although he is cutting down, thank God- it really is insidious stuff. He is an AMAZING artist. He does mostly drawing (95%) and has a very unique cartoonish/comic book style and can draw what ever you ask him too. I pray that one day he will get a break and be able to do something with his art. Kieran = my second younger brother. He is 18 months younger than Shannan. Kieran is incredibly intelligent. He skipped Grade 2, got Dux (top) of his class in every year at High School, got an HSC (Higher School Certificate) of 96% and is now at University studying "Physics", "Chemistry" and "French". He maintains an incredibly high average there and rarely gets a result below "Distinction". Last semester he got four "High Distinctions"!!! He is crazy, but also really cool. We have a lot in common and have great conversations, although he has grown a little aloof over the last couple of years. I suppose it should be noted that he and my ex-ex-girlfriend had a romantic-type thing going on where they thought they loved each other, which is what split Erica and I up. But I forgave him straight away as he was infinitely more important to me than Erica and I had actually secretly wished for Erica and I to break up for ages- I would lie awake fantasising what it would be like to be without her- pretty cowardly I know, but I have grown up since then. Kieran and I lived together in Canberra after Erica moved out. He was going to Uni there and I was still doing my music thing. Not long after he moved in I started dealing Marijuana. We got pretty deep into the scene and our house became a typical dealer’s house. For a short time I had Ecstasy and Ice going through there which attracted a much older, seedier and junkier clientele. Kieran was eventually beaten in his own bed (while I was passed out at a party up the road) with a trolley bar. The guy was looking for "pills" but eventually just took Kieran’s wallet with $200 in it. The whole thing was set up by a supposed, "friend". Soon afterward a full-on conman, beefed up on steroids and claiming he could cook amphetamines came onto the scene and could not be gotten rid of. At this point Kieran wisely decided to leave Canberra and return home. Of course, it took me a great deal longer- there was still so much despair to be had! Silly boy. Liam = my third younger brother. Liam was born six years after Kieran. Shannan, Kieran and I were obviously very close in age, which corresponded in closeness period. This only came about after we'd all matured to an extent and after we had all finished school we formed a tightly-connected "Brotherhood". Liam always felt left out of this, but by the time it came about Shannan and I were already away from home, soon to be followed by Kieran. So poor old Liam had to do it himself- I suppose that's why he chose to be born so much later. He developed great interests in music, film and acting. We are all creatively minded and this helped us grow closer (particularly he and I). He became quite the class clown in high school and admittedly had trouble with knowing when to end a joke or stop quoting movies and the Simpsons but he is in Year 11 now and is really smarting up. He is the brother I see the most of now-a-days and we have built a great, humourous relationship. Film and acting is his greatest passion now, and his resume is really taking shape- having made several short films, documentaries, successful auditions (including making it to the final 15 boys to try our for "Neighbours" and playing the lead role in his high school musical this year. While I was living in Perth (with Kimberley) I told him (over the phone, as we lived on opposite sides of Australia) about Lucid Dreaming. he became really interested so I fed him as much information as I could. I said to him to remember, when ever he became lucid to call for me and I would help. Well, last year he did have a Lucid Dream, at 15 years of age! And he remembered to call on me! He rang me up and told me, I was very proud. He is a bit like my psychic buddy, but I have to wait for him to be ready for the next installments in our journey. After his initial interest in Lucid Dreaming it died off for a while (as it does), actually it is still a little dead but I am going to try and convince him to join Dream Views. A few months ago he agreed to let me lead through a "Past Life Regression" which ended up being amazing. He was so overwhelmed with emotion and sadness when he returned from trance that he could not stop himself from crying (and he isn't wont to do that, being a 16 year old boy). We've also done hypnosis together... I'm just waiting for him now to re-spark; I really want to to help him open as a Channel so that his guides can speak through his voice. Lanika = the only girl in our family, and she also the youngest. Her and Liam grew up together because they were closer in age. She was actually still very young when I left home so I did not really get a chance to know her (nor did I try, being a selfish young adult). I am back now though and she is in Year 9, so I get the privilege of watching her grow now. She has become very beautiful and funny. It's a trip-out to watch teenage girls do their thing; so much like the movies it's not funny. It's very cute. Her main passion now is sport and fitness. She is a goalie for a Bellingen women's Hockey (and she's really good&#33, she plays soccer and even Rugby Union (which I try and discourage). She runs for kilometres and exercises really well (something I am not so fond of, but would like to be). She has lots of friends, which I am really happy about because none of the rest of us had that. She is starting to get into listening to music, which I remember to be such an exciting time. She has a beautiful and kind heart but still a wicked little sense of humour. Sean Cubit = my next-door neighbour when I lived in Perth with Kimberley. He came over one night and asked me if I knew where he could get a stick ($25 worth of weed). At first I thought it was a setup and that he was a thug (even though Kimberley and I bought a half-ounce every fortnight) and said, "ahh, no, sorry dude." "Oh that's cool," he said. "Sorry. You guys just looked like the type." With that I realised he must live around the area. "Ohh, you live next door!? Sorry dude, I thought you were a random... come in." We shouted him some cones and from then on we became really good friends. He owned a gorgeous, black staffy and i said to him, "if that dog ever has puppies I want one!" A few months later she did have puppies and my Kimberley and I got the pick of the litter. Sean was my little smoking buddy. I was trying to quit everyday almost from when I knew him but we just had such a good time together, smoking and playing chess everyday that we never did see a straight day between us. I moved back to NSW and shortly after he went to London (where he still is) to live for a while. i haven't heard from him since but I pray he is doing well. Dad = my Robert John Stockton Senior. He was named after his father and I was named after him. It took me a while but now I think that's cool and I will even commit a son of my own, he'll probably hate it like I did, but screw him- this is tradition. My Dad became an English Head teacher, then a Deputy Principle and finally his ambition to become the youngest Principal in Australia was realised when we moved to Bombala. He was principal there from 1992 - 1998. For a change in climate (Bombala used to get down to -10 degrees Celsius and snow) we moved to a place called Bellingen, where he took up the title of Principal there. Although he reminisces about Bombala, he has made a terrific difference in Bellingen and runs a fine school. Bellingen saw my Mum separate from him though, and after 25 years of seemingly perfect marriage he took the blow very hard and experienced major depression for the first time in his life. My Mum and I had begun exploring new avenues of spirituality in the last of Bombala, namely Wicca (Paganism), which my father was never comfortable with- the people who "taught" us the ways were a bit dodgy, Dad has a good judge of character. After we moved to Bellingen I realised Paganism was not for me but Mum resonated with it more and more. She became High Priestess in a coven and the differences between her and Dad became to great to continue their relationship. Dad has since remarried a woman named Michelle. He was fortunate to find her as he was in a very bad way. She has three children who it took sometime to warm to him- and it's not like they're hot n' heavy now any more so than Michelle is with his kids, but that's cool. He's lucky. Dad taught me how to play Chess when I was young, then he taught me how to play well some time later. I then took on myself a few years ago to really learn on my own. Then I beat him for the first time. Now, when ever we get together we always play multiple games of chess. We are just about equally skilled now- he may still be a tad better than me, which is healthy I think. Mum = was born in Ireland and migrated here when she was eight years old. She was 22 when she had me and we have always been very close. She supported me (and I her) in severing my Christian faith in pursuit of other Truths and she is highly intelligent, which I respect. Mum is very caring in nature and almost always is able to see the positive side of people and situations. Since separating with Dad she has had 3 or 4 live-in relationships. She was recently left by her partner (in life and her religion- he was her High Priest) which was a shock. She could not pay the rent so I moved from my dad's house in with her to help out. She managed to push on through her abrupt break-up and found a new guy over the internet of all things! His name is Bill and he's a great guy, quite "Aussie" and grounded, which is good for mum- she hasn't had that since Dad. She has started a new coven introducing new and beloved people to Wicca and Paganism. She will soon be performing a hand fasting, which is a Wiccan marriage. Gerry = my ex-girlfriend's (Kimberley's) father. When I first met Gerry I had pink and black hair, was skinny with a hippy dress sense... he just stared at me. It was terrible. Kimberley had not warned me that she had such a typical Aussie father- he was beyond typical. What was worse was that I had taken his youngest girl (who was the 18 years old) from his house to live with me. I avoided him for the first part of my relationship with Kimberley; we kept ourselves busy hard drugs like Heroin instead. After Kimberley got herself onto methadone she became insanely depressed. She was depressed before but now it gotten to the point where it was evident she needed professional help. I made the hard decision to tell her parents. I think I gained their respect in this act and they were actually really good in helping her. They paid several hundred dollars a day for her to stay in a private mental institution. During this time I naturally had a lot more to do with her immediate family, including the Dad. He saw I was making an effort to get a job so he offered me some work for his building company, just some labouring. I was determined to show him the stuff I was made of and even showed myself some in the process. I quickly developed a strong relationship with him as we worked closely everyday. I got money, muscles and health and he got a very hard, respectful and dedicated worker. I even started watching football with him and learned to love it! He was (is) good value, ol' Gerry. At the end of my stay in Perth I was in agony. My neck was absolutely devastatingly sore and the girls (Kimberley and her Mum) could not bring me any relief with massage as they simply didn't have the strength. I had long since quit work because of the pain in my body but I continued to build my relationship with Gerry, so when he came into the room where I was about to have a panic attack I said to him, "I'm sorry Gerry, I wouldn't ask you if it wasn't really bad, but could you please press into my neck- the girls aren't strong enough." Wordlessly he came over to me and followed my instructions on what to do. He was so shocked when I repeatedly ask him to press harder. Until the point where he actually couldn't (or feared to) apply any more pressure. In a conversation with my Mum later he apparently cried (in as much as he would, which is more like "choking up") and said, "I've never seen anyone in that much pain." He is a good bloke and he taught me a lot. Mason Martin = one of the "Redneck Group" in my old high school in Bombala. I actually think that he was the smartest of the lot and definitely the funniest. He rarely said anything nasty to me, because he liked me, but was subject to peer pressure from his crew. I never had a problem with him and actually really enjoyed his sense of humour. Brad Guthry = was a short, light-hearted redneck from the "Redneck Group". He was kindly but was absolutely subject to the flow of the gang and as such was every now and then a bit of a prick, but we rarely had any beef- he had less beef than me (physically) which was rare. Mr Widdock- was my PE teacher from Bombala in high school. There was nothing special about Mr Widdock, I didn't even like PE... maybe that's why he turns up every now and then. I just assumed I wasn't able to play sports because all the rednecks played Rugby League, something I had NO interest in. So I turned my attention to things of the mind and spirit. Kevin = is the middle child in Kimberley's family. He is the same age as me. When I first met him when Kimberley and I were moving into our first place in Perth we bonded because of our love of pychedelic drugs (Mushrooms mainly, and our desire to make LSA out of morning glory seeds). He has been working for his Dad's company since he was 17. When Kimberley went into hospital I moved in with him and we often worked together. I used to love waking up in the morning to his crazy "wake up singing". He is quite tone deaf but the lyrics he would make up always cracked me up, which was good when I had to get up at 6:00 am. When Kimberley got out of hospital she lived with her parents again for a month or so and then she moved in with Kev and I. We moved out a few months later but they were good times. I really enjoyed Kevin's confident Aussie attitude and his sense of humour... he was also smarter than the average Perth guy our age, which he had no qualms telling you about. He is also very athletic and strong from years of work in the building industry. Once he took me out to his secret mushroom hunting grounds at 2:00 in the morning, both of us were on speed. Despite our "performance enhancing drugs" we only found about 10 shrooms that day... other times he would often find up to 100, which worked well for me while I lived with him. Hunter = Shannan's next-door neighbour. He is Canadian and his house is a bit like my old place when I was dealing weed, except seedier, dirtier and he doesn't actually sell anything... people just need a place to smoke. Shannan knows everyone there and takes pleasure in the fact that they all respect him rather than berate him like they used to while we were in school. Hunter’s a nice guy. Likes video games and movies... downloads them all day on a dial-up connection. Bill = Mum's most recent boyfriend. A great, down to Earth guy who treats Mum really well. He's got a good Aussie sense of humour and he has a playful, competitive nature, which I like. We play Chess and Pool. It's fun. He owns his own welding business where he constructs and modifies all things metal. His portfolio is really quite impressive. Joe = my step-sister. She is Dad's new wife's (Michelle) daughter. She is the same age as Kieran and goes to the same Uni, she also does French like Kieran. She is (like her Mum) a Christian and it took her a while to warm to Dad. The first thing she asked him was, "Do you walk with God?" Bloody hell, poor bastard. She's good now though, and we get along.

[Daen]

Library Wall Saturday, 26th August. 2006. I am explaining to someone how I want to paint “old books” on my wall to look like an old library shelf, packed from floor to ceiling. [I drank three glasses of Jim Beam (6 standard drinks) last night before sleeping at 1:00 am. It (alcohol and late night) seemed to have effected my dream recall. I woke up my customary 3 times during the night but could not for the life of me remember anything but this tiny tidbit, which I have dreamed of before.] Dae 237.

[Daen]

A Mazing Golf-Course 28th August, 2006. Part One [I only remember scant parts of the following dreams as something is happening to my recall!] Erica, Essie [another high school crush of mine- she kind of came second to Erica] and I are at a golf-course. We are watching a “high rope” race, which is a race between two teams, all hanging from two ropes at least 100 metres up from the landscape of the golf-course. At first I think that together as a team they are to slide in the manner of a flying fox but for about a minute each group seems to be writhing around, with the members of each almost struggling to get into new positions. I figure that they must be trying to find the most aerodynamic pose so that they ill glide faster but then one member of the greean and gold team (Australian colours) gets in front of his team mates and starts looping his way forward on the line, i.e. he uses a monkey-like hand over hand technique. As he does this (and for some reason he also turns upside down and uses his legs) I can now see that the “rope” is actually a very strong “sash” and it is about a foot wide. I suppose this to aid the players in this incredibly dangerous sport. I can’t believe that they would do something like this, so high up, for so long (at least 500 metres) without a harness or net- it is almost too full-on to watch. In the next part of the dream, the girls and I enter a maze. This maze is underground and has the appearance of secret underground caverns but with the careful detail and stone walls of a 16th century Church. It is incredibly “3d” (somewhat like an enclosed Esher painting) and for some reason we get separated. This is where the power of the maze becomes obvious. It seems impossible to find them again as I keep looping and being led back to points where I had been. I yell out to try and audibly locate them, “cooo-eeeee” I call. The sound echoes in such a way that I know that this maze is absolutely massive. [At some point I wake up, very sloppily because my awareness is so low, I don’t record anything because I just don’t know what is going on. At some point later I re-enter the dream, which almost seems natural to me these days; I certainly didn’t have the presence of mind to “make it happen.”] Part Two I am back at the Golf-course and walk into a restroom. I relieve my self (I suppose) and as I am walking out an Asian/Black (chinegro) man says to me, “Hey, you’re not coloured!” I know that he thinks that this restroom is a “Blacks only” toilet from yesteryear. “This is Australia my friend!” I reply simply with a smile. I am not sure how he replies but I he is happy, especially because it is “cheaper” for him when the segregation is not in place, or something. Now I am at “home” and my brother (Shannan) is on the phone to the Golf-course. He confesses that when he was a young boy he set three parts of bushland alight and they caused major bushfires. He says to them that he wants to give something back to community in the way of service, and I think he is offering to mow the lawns there. I am nodding and encouraging him. When he gets off the phone I tell him that I have just come from the Golf-course and that the perimeter is huge. He doesn’t seem to mind that he is going to have to mow the large area and I am proud of him.

[Daen]

Tuesday, 29th August. 2006. [I had a nightmare of sorts last night but I can not remember at all what happened. I really miss my dictaphone, I have been without it for three days now. When I woke from the dream I remember being quite frightened, which hasn’t happened in quite some time. After my heart stopped racing I was determined to go back in there and sort things out. I was successful in re-entering the dream but I don’t think (because I can’t remember) I resolved it.] Later in the night though I had another atypical dream for me. Behind Jessica I am watching Jessica Simpson and her partner play tennis against another couple. I am seated behind the court on Jessica’s side. It is match point and her partner has the shot. He messes up what Jessica deemed to be an easy backhand; one that she would have gotten. The ball eventually makes it to the net and the game is over. She ignores the partner and crouches down low to the ground on her haunches. I can’t help but watch closely as she does. I get the impression that she is warming down by stretching her hamstrings [something I am having to do in waking life because of all this sitting at a computer]. I also think to myself that the way she is doing it won’t help her hamstrings very much, but it’s not like I was going to correct her. As she is fully squatted she lifts up her tennis skirt (apparently to enable her to stretch more- or maybe I was willing it to be) to reveal her rather perfect backside with just a G-string on. Now I don’t know if Miss Simpson really has a backside like this (although “Dukes of Hazard” style comes very close) but I am amazed by the perfection of it. She is incredibly sexy to me right there [she isn’t in waking life]. She is being deliberately provocative. There is then a celebration in a very large swimming pool. A massive inflatable Jessica Simpson (although all blue) is put into the pool. It is on her hands and knees so that a similar view as what we got on the tennis court is now floating around the pool. Everyone is partying in the pool, jumping all over the figure (this thing is like 50 metres long). Amongst the people there are Jason McDonald and Ben Stinton [two of my friends from high school] I am swimming underwater but find it difficult to find a place to surface. I get a little panicky because I remember this happening to me before [in waking life]. I find a small opening between the huge Jessica Simpson and all the bodies in the pool but as I try to come up Jason pushes me back down, apparently for fun. I think I only just make it to the surface before the moment I guessed that I would have drowned. Maybe if he’d pushed me down one more time I would have had to breathe in and I would realized I was dreaming.

[Daen]

The Buddha Boy 39th August, 2006. [Again, very poor dream recall has only allowed me to remember the barest minimum detail of my dreams. I have decided that I will definitely not be drinking alcohol anymore… just 2 glasses of bourbon was all it took… kids, don’t drink and dream!] I am telling Mum about the extraordinary feats of the Buddha Boy. I tell her that last year (2005) he went into deep meditation between two fig trees in the Nepalese jungle. I further explain that for 7 months he remained there without food, drink or needing to go to the toilet and even got bitten by a snake. I tell her that after being bitten he did not seek medical attention and moved away from the public eye, deeper into the jungle where he most likely still sits. Later in the dream, or perhaps in another, I spontaneously hypnotise my youngest brother, Liam. That is to say that I did not intend to hypnotise him but that is what happens. When I notice this I take the opportunity to deepen his trance and then give him positive, life-affirming suggestions. I don’t remember what I said but I know it was positive- in fact; I may have felt a little awkward being so “lovey-dovey” with him.

[Daen]

Writing Classes 31st August 31, 2006 I am at a University and I’m going with Mum to enroll in a course for writing. I get the textbook and leaflets with questions and assignments and then I have to do an interview with a woman. The first question she asks me is, “whanahmlmayacahlyoo.” I can not understand her. It is as if my hearing is slurred. “What? Excuse me?” I ask. “Whanahmlmayacahlyoo,” she insists. “I don’t understand what you’re saying,” I plead. “Whanahmlmayacahlyoo,” she repeats, agitated and aggitatingly. “I DON’T understand!” She’s angry but I’m angry as well, it’s just ridiculous. “May I look at the question,” pointing to the sheet she is reading from. “I can’t understand what you’re saying.” I get kicked out and I’m not allowed to do the course. Mum gets in. Later on another woman (an administrator) asks me if I want to apply again. I said, “No, thank you. That’s OK.” “Why not?” she enquires. “Well I don’t want her for a teacher,” I say. “She’s not the teacher,” she assures me. “Oh, OK. Then, yes, please.” I take the form and I see that the question the woman was trying to ask earlier was, “By what name may I call you?” I think that’s a weird question anyway. Now I’m walking along the grounds of the University and it’s night time. Ella sees me and calls out, “Robbie! Are you coming to go to this school?” “Ella! Wow, yeah… I’m going here,” I reply, totally surprised to see her. “I go to this school too! I love what you’re wearing.” I am wearing my purple baggy jeans and a blue shirt. “Oh, thanks,” I reply. I notice her looking at my lips and I say, “Yeah I know, I need lip balm. Do you have any?” “No,” she says, but one of my friends does. She takes me by the hand and leads me to her circle of friends sitting on the grass. She introduces me and gets the lip balm. I put in on and as I do I recognise an old high school friend. “Filtness is that you? Sinaed?” I recognise her voice. “Yeah, it’s me” she says laughing. Then I look to the left and see a guy with a red shirt and long dreads. “Stewart? David Stewart? Is that you?” I ask. “Yep, it’s me,” he replies, somewhat nonchalantly. He seems a little “too-cool-for-school”. I go and sit next to him. “I dreamed of you just a week ago,” I say. “I dreamed of you too!” he replies. “Do you often dream of high school characters?” I ask him. “No, not really,” he says. “I do all the time. Especially Haywood Fraser that arsehole. He is mostly friendly in my dreams though.” David doesn’t seem interested. Now I’m in what I assume is my dorm. It is an open structure with just two side walls and a rear- no roof or front. The room is decorated in nice soft but bright colours like the colourful wool at the Steiner school. Everyone is wearing cool, hippyish clothes and I fit in well. I think to myself that I didn’t think that Uni would be like this, this was cool. We’re all just hanging around having a good time.

[Daen]

I couldn't for the life of me seperate those last two dreams. I entered "Bird Ball" after by pressing, "Add reply" and it joined it to the previous one. I deleted it in "edit" and retried giving it it's own thing five times! Alas, it would not work. It almost made me scream. This is more or less a test but if someone reads it and knows the answer to the riddle, please let me know. See if you can enter a reply that doesn't "join on". Bird Ball 1st September, 2006. I am in the bush in an old heritage style community. At the centre of this community is a sport where humans play against birds. It is loosely like baseball in that it has a batter, a pitcher and bases. There are rules to the game I am not sure of, as I think I am new to town. There is some kind of statistical display showing how fast each bird is. I remember the Eagle has something to do with three seconds and there was a seagull who for some reason was taking centre ground (to where the ball would be pitched). I think I actually come into town and see the game being played before I know what is going on. The pitcher throws a hard ball and it hits the centre-gull and injures him. All I see is senseless cruelty to animals and I am enraged. I lock my eyes on the pitcher and charge at him. There is about 20 metres between us so I gather maximum speed. He doesn’t know what I am doing. From about one and a half metres away I jump towards him. I lean my upper-body back, let my arms raise above my head and extend both feet out, pointing directly into his chest. Before he can react I have double heel kicked him off his feet and onto the ground. I get up before he does but I can see that he is mad. At this point I ‘become aware’ that I am a black woman and I run away from the guy about 15 metres before he gets up and takes aim at me with one of his balls. He calls me a “fucking kaffin” or something like that and throws the ball at a blinding speed. It misses me but he takes aim again. I am running around the ground for sometime before he manages to peg me with one… according to his satisfaction I should have been hurt, but I don’t think I was. Away from the game I decide to get something to eat. I go into a restaurant and there is a kindly old lady serving. I smile at her and her at me. “What would you like, dear?” she asks. “Well, after seeing that game I am on the chicken’s side,” I say. “Well, we have Thai,” she said as an alternative to chicken but then I realise that all I actually want to eat is chicken and I feel stupid. “I’d actually like chicken please,” I resign, sheepishly. “Well, at least they don’t get him,” she said comfortingly, referring to the ball players. I am now myself and I see some young children about ten years old gathering kindling to make a fire. I look around for some twigs to help them. There aren’t very many around but eventually I get a good handful. I bring them over to their little fire they are trying to start. I notice that they have structured their fire in the cartoon-like tee-pee fashion so I guess they are having fun taking pride in the appearance of the fire so I set my assistance down nearby for them to use in their own time. I think they realise what I am doing and say that it is OK, I can put the kindling on. I try to put it on in keeping with their arrangement but it turns into a wall of sorts and is looking like it is going to fall over. I try to prop it up with a larger piece of wood but it falls. To my dismay, the little fire has gone out. I try to get it back by blowing but it does not work. The kids don’t seem to mind. An older person says to me, “No, you don’t do it like that. You just chuck some wood on like this.” He throws large pieces of wood on the seemingly dead pile of half-burned twigs and it bursts into flames. I notice the flames look strange but don’t become lucid (like I should have). Now I’m a middle aged man who seems to be the hero of the town in regards to their sport. I think I play on the bird’s team and the longer I can hit the ball, the more time they have to make the distances they have to fly, or something. There is a problem with the bat I am to use, it is bent. I dramatically say that as long as it’s got one more hit in it we’ll win the game. Although I am confident, what I am proposing to do is an enormous feat. An old man in town exclaims that he has a bat I can use. Everyone looks to him as he speaks (also dramatically) and it seems that he is the local Wise Man. He turns to a structure near his second hand shop and raises his arms above his head. As he does a bat rises above the structure like a samurai sword. Everyone cheers. He hands the bat to me in a ceremonious manner and I am struck by the age and the heaviness of it. He nods as I take it and look at it. It appears to be antique but certainly built to last. It comes in two pieces, unlike the modern ones. I pull the two segments apart like I am unsheathing a sword. I think I do in order to see how long I can make it. I put it back together but can not figure out how to tighten it so that it will stay together. I ask for the old man’s help. He shows me the buckle and strap system that is there. Now I am myself again and I am asking my mother what a “kaffin” is. She says that it is a derogatory word for a black woman.

[Daen]

Test. Test. Test. This is getting rediculous.

[Daen]

Dead Flute 2nd September, 2006. I’m at a school with a couple of people in a classroom at night time. I say, “What’s that smell? I can smell something rotting.” The other two people are vague and I get the sense that they are hiding something from me. I look around. I follow the smell to a small gap in the wall above a piano. In the space I find my African Love Flute. I take it out and it has been destroyed in some way, as if it were living and now it is dead. Erica comes in; she has short hair and looks scary/evil. “Did he find the flute?” she asks eerily of the other two in the room. “Yes,” they reply. I try to play it to show her that she was not successful in killing it but it doesn’t work well at all. The two channels [the flute has two channels, one is a drone note, the other is able to be pitch controlled] have come apart so I try to hit her with them. [I have to stress that ‘she’ was more of a demon than a girl- I would never hit a woman!] “Is that all you got?” she taunted before attacking me, trying to stab me with her paint brushes. I dodge out of the way and pick up a thin paint brush of my own with which I stab her through the heart. She lunges after me, hot blood shooting on my back. I move away and she goes to the ground. “The brush, the brush,” she says urgently and because she is dying and feel guilty I quickly acquiesce and hand her another paint brush assuming she wants to write a last message. [This dream was a lot scarier than it sounds and I woke with my heart racing.] [i]

[Daen]

Dead Flute 2nd September, 2006. I’m at a school with a couple of people in a classroom at night time. I say, “What’s that smell? I can smell something rotting.” The other two people are vague and I get the sense that they are hiding something from me. I look around. I follow the smell to a small gap in the wall above a piano. In the space I find my African Love Flute. I take it out and it has been destroyed in some way, as if it were living and now it is dead. Erica comes in; she has short hair and looks scary/evil. “Did he find the flute?” she asks eerily of the other two in the room. “Yes,” they reply. I try to play it to show her that she was not successful in killing it but it doesn’t work well at all. The two channels [the flute has two channels, one is a drone note, the other is able to be pitch controlled] have come apart so I try to hit her with them. [I have to stress that ‘she’ was more of a demon than a girl- I would never hit a woman!] “Is that all you got?” she taunted before attacking me, trying to stab me with her paint brushes. I dodge out of the way and pick up a thin paint brush of my own with which I stab her through the heart. She lunges after me, hot blood shooting on my back. I move away and she goes to the ground. “The brush, the brush,” she says urgently and because she is dying and feel guilty I quickly acquiesce and hand her another paint brush assuming she wants to write a last message. [This dream was a lot scarier than it sounds and I woke with my heart racing.] Breathing Underwater (Lucidity = 14%) 4th September, 2006. I am at the bottom of a large pool about 50 metres long and 20 metres deep. I have found that being right down on the floor I can breathe easily. I found this out because I went right down below in order to look up and watch the stunt divers as they performed their tricks and entered the pool. I brought Liam down to watch them as well. We laid on our backs right on the pools floor and the peace was blissful. After it is all finished I am drinking Jim Beam (on the pools edge). I walk to another area within the pool confines and two gruff, 50 year old men are making fun of me. I flip them the bird and they say, “ahhhh, you been drinkin’ little mate?” “Yep,” I reply, defiant and not scared of them- largely to my newly discovered ability to breath underwater. “You drinkin’ that Jim Beam crap?” they jeer. “Yeah, what else is there?” I say, imitating their voices and then add, “You arseholes” to get them going. I go back to the pool and unbutton my shirt that I must have put back on. They are coming after me like I want them too so I dive back into the pool. “Come and get it boys,” I chide. I go back down to the bottom of the pool where Liam and now also Kieran are waiting for me. We form a single file with me in front in waiting for the two men. One of them swims down to us and as he approaches I bark at him like a dog, very loudly despite being underwater. When he gets within reach I maneuver his body so that I can grab one of his legs. Kieran grabs the other one and we hold him in our underwater lair. He actually seems impressed and tries to get away. It’s brilliant. Later we are back on the surface and the men are gone. My Dad has come to pick me up. I say, “Hey Dad, you wanna see a cool trick?” “It better be quick, no more than 30 seconds ‘cause we have to go.” “Yeah, I’m just going to do a lap of the pool,” I assure him, slightly annoyed that he doesn’t have time to appreciate what I want to show him. I dive in the pool and soon I have traveled the whole distance of the pool underwater. Feeling that perhaps this could be done by someone with large lung-capacity I swim another two lengths. Sometimes during the swim I could not use each of my arms or legs properly at different times but I still manage it. When I rise out of the pool my Dad isn’t even watching and is instead getting his hair cut (in a ridiculous style). “Did you see?” I ask. “No,” he replies matter-of-factly. “I just did three whole laps underwater,” I complain. He doesn’t seem impressed at all. Later I find out from Lanika that she was able to breathe underwater too. I jump back in perform a reality check. I check to see if I can breathe at any level and not just at the deepest levels. I find out that I can and realise I am dreaming (though loosely with ultra-low awareness). I tell Lanika that the reason we can breathe underwater isn’t because of pockets of oxygen but because we’re dreaming. She says that on Saturday she found out the same thing.

[Daen]

Friday. September 8th, 2006 Last night I read in my new book by Seth (“Dreams and Projections of Consciousness”) that to get the best recall of your dreams in the night you may use hypnotic suggestion. He suggests suggesting to yourself that you will awaken after each dreaming period throughout the night and record it immediately. I did indeed record 5 dreams, but they were low quality recollections. I got up at 4:00am to do some WILD experimenting but was unsuccessful with that too. My neck and back were very sore so I had to keep tossing and turning. The five dreams I recorded last night are as follows; 1. Remember to Smile I dream that I should be remembering something. Smiling more I think. 2. Which Chord? I am sitting at a piano in a room unknown to me trying to figure out which chord is supposed to come after the one I am playing or up to. Something tells me that I should turn around. There in the open sliding-doors three metres behind me is ‘the killer’ or ‘the pursuer’ (as I perceive him) watching me. I think he was dressed in Ninja-like attire. I am scared and try to not convey it by asking him what chord he thinks I should play next. I abort the dream though I think because I am too afraid. I wake up in the midst of a body shiver. 3. Dream Questionnaire I am initially with Alex [Lanika’s friend] in her front yard at night time. I ask her were her dog is. She says it was killed by being cut up by a tractor. I pat her on the shoulder and she looks confused as to why I would do that. “Your dog,” I explain. “I’m sorry about your dog.” “Oh no, it’s OK. It happened a while ago.” “Yeah but it sucks seeing that kind of thing though, hey?” Later we are with my Mum and Dad and Liam and we are filling in a ‘dream questionnaire’ [again probably because of my focus on recording each of the first five dreams of my sleep]. Mum says that something that Liam has done in the questionnaire is incorrect. Dad defends Liam by saying, “No, look. If that’s the way he dreamt it then that’s the way he dreamt it!” 4. Reuniting with Kimberley Mum’s trying to tell me off for something. I think it is because I am paying attention to Kimberley instead of everyone else (my family is gathered at Shannan and Emma’s house). We had been lying together on the floor, on our sides embracing while facing each other lovingly. I eventually go into Shannan’s study and he is making a colourful poster depicting how he is going to smoke half the amount of weed that he smokes now. I think this is prompted by an angry Mum as well because she calls in to order me to leave the room because, “if you two get together we’ll be up all night [arguing].” 5. The Writing on the Wall I begin this dream as a detective of sorts. I am out the front of a suspect’s house reading some graffiti on a brick wall. What is written indicates to me that the guy who I’m investigating is guilty of the crime I suspect him of. He comes out and I question him about the writing. He is defensive and says he wants to go back inside and talk to his girlfriend. I let him and crouch down and hide behind another wall on the corner. He comes back out and gets down on his hands and knees, looking for something in the grass on his front lawn. I am now observing (as an impartial awareness, not the detective) a group of teenagers who are talking about a murder that has taken place. They discern from the writing on the wall that a small boy has been killed. They are all very angry. One in particular, a semi-psychopathic boy with a long knife, gets very incensed and says he is going to kill him. “How are we going to kill him?” the girl asks, unbelieving. “Look, I’ve been killing since you were in nappies. If this writing is here then random it is not; it has to be a clue. I’m going to go sniff around the area.” The next scene I remember is the ‘psycho boy’ dressed in American athletic/running gear (a disguise), jogging along side a ‘senior high school’ jock. He is talking to him and doing general reconnaissance work. Two girls follow up behind him (one who was with him before and one from ‘around the area’ or amongst the training ‘senior high school’ group of about 20). The girl who knows the boy is trying to keep an eye on what he is doing but is having trouble keeping up with him as he seems to be very fit and a good runner. The girl who does not know him asks, “Is he strong?” The known girl pulls out two big knifes and says, “With knives, yeah.”

[Daen]

Precognition 1 Saturday, 9th September. 2006 Before sleeping last night I read a few chapters in “Seth, Dreams and Projections of Consciousness” on Precognitive Dreams. Interestingly, I did not remember my dreams upon waking throughout the night except one. I had left my dictaphone on record before sleeping so when I tried to record it there was no memory, so I lost the dream… until later. When my brother Liam and I walked the couple of kilometres to the shop for our usually “supplies” consisting of Coke, Mars Bars and a DVD I said, “I hate when I don’t record any dreams at night, it feels like such a waste of sleep.” He non-committedly agreed. Not a minute later he asked me if I had seen the movie, “Stand By Me.” Astonished, I excitedly told him of a part of the dream he just helped me to remember. “At the end of the dream, you and I were singing ‘Stand By Me!’ Holy shit!” We then started singing the song together for good measure. At the end of the recital were the lyrics, “And the Moon, is the only, light we see.” This further regenerated my memory and I knew that this line was the reason for our singing the song. It was related to a question Liam asked me in the dream, “Why are the morning stars the most important?” Then when we returned home Liam logged onto the internet, which again brought back memories! The sound of the modem connecting reminded me of listening to an electronica song in the dream with Liam with that exact same sample (modem) featured in the intro. I was annoyed in the dream, claiming that I wanted to use that sample in one of my own songs! The drama does not stop there. We rented the movie, “The Brothers Grimm” and settled down to watch it. Half way through the movie two of the brothers’ assistants are lowered into a fiery pit. Strangely, there are glass boxes around their heads and on the inside of these boxes are snails. Someone in the movie asks, “Are they snails?” In my dreams I remembered being pinned from behind by a random skater-punk type character. He is doing it good-naturedly, like a “Jackass” sort of thing, but firmly. My attention is drawn to a single snail on the ground near us. As if on cue he squashes the snail and run his index finger through its entrails. I am unable to stop him from rubbing it on my face. Although this had no “precognitive features” the guy then pisses on my back and laughs. I remember thinking in the dream that I was glad he had such a wicked sense of humour, as before I was unsure. “I’ll get him back.”