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Night of May 1, 1988. Sunday.



I am watching in my dream (having fallen asleep on my back), the associated imagery of the actual music of Abba’s “I’m a Marionette”, with a somewhat disoriented awareness - much like falling asleep in a movie theater and then wondering where you are as you are waking. In fact, I actually do perceive I am in a theater of some sort before realizing I am in my bed. It seems like it might be the end of a big stage production but I am uncertain. It is mostly of a black silhouette of a marionette (which seems male even though the singer is female). It is moving fairly rapidly at times, reminding me vaguely of the motions of an insect. Part of the music seems more like a soundtrack for a film about a haunted house, I note, especially with the seemingly “gasping chorus”, but I also get the impression of the “fleeting” life of an extremely despondent female. I also get the impression of people in a mental institution randomly cheering some sort of game, but as a stage production.

Hearing the song through the veil of my dream, with associated “unnatural” rhythms, was very unpleasant, causing a slight nausea (though not nightmarish to a greater or clearer extent). This, for quite some time, caused me to rethink just how much music alters personal focus and internal emotions and ideas, especially music with negative or surreal implications. It caused me to once again question why people would deliberately listen to music with negative lyrics, especially while sleeping.

Morning of April 3, 1988. Sunday. Easter Sunday.



CS and her daughter NS are at my sister Marilyn’s house on Loomis Street. It involves the appearance of the “Anti-Easter Bunny”. It is fairly large and black and actually seems to have a “dark” and somewhat menacing presence in my dream (yet does not directly threaten or attempt to harm me or anyone else in any way). It appears on the dining room table, but moves about in a couple other locations in the house. My sister is also there. There is no actual fear, though, just a sense of awe and eeriness and an unusual awareness of something other than my own existence or in-dream awareness. It does seem like an external presence from outside my dream, as I am semi-lucid and eventually lucid, but no drama ensues. I get the awareness that its ears have the essence of larger bat wings (though they do not look like bat wings) and there is the essence of the hooves of a horse in sound and movement somehow, supposedly when it moves or “teleports” elsewhere. Again, it does not come near me in any threatening sense, but appears a few times.

Curiously, NS said that she had the same dream around the same time (with no indications or cues of any kind) and she said that she “threw a jelly bean at it and it disappeared”.

Morning of March 18, 1988. Friday.



This was a long dream, but mostly uneventful and primarily involving forgotten conversations and some sort of board game at first, possibly Monopoly. The plot centers around friends coming to see me in Cubitis. They mostly sit in a circle in my bedroom, both girls and boys. It seems I may be around fourteen years of age or older. I am seated in the circle and facing due east.

Eventually, a spider monkey, which seems to be very active and intelligent, starts talking profusely, as if he is in charge of everything. He mostly remains on my right, sometimes standing in the center of the arc of the semicircular formation of friends on my right (if left and right sides were divided into even half-circles). He talks about his “career” which I think is relative to music and radio as well as politics. It also seems that he is a prince of some kind, seemingly of a large country. At one point, he is wearing a gold crown and a red robe. Oddly, I do not question the fact that a small spider monkey is talking so clearly and with such authority in my dream (it is very vivid but I have no idea I am dreaming). At one point near the end, he is more and more articulate, eventually holding a banana, and I believe, talking about politics and mentioning “Washington”. My friends do not seem to think it that strange to see a talking monkey.

I think about producing an epic documentary detailing his life and times, but that thought soon fades. My dream is very vibrant prior to losing cohesion.

I get the impression he is the “Duke of Swing” (vaguely reflecting on “Duke of Earl”), which is eventually replaced by “Sultan of Swing”, which seems to be his actual title. The Dire Straits song, which seems directly related in afterthought, did not cross my mind at all when in my dream, and only at the waking point did I remember the song title, which seems to somehow have “created” my dream from the start.

Morning of February 13, 1988. Saturday.

Dream #: 7,726-02. Optimized 1 min 15 sec read.

I find myself in the backyard of an unfamiliar house I associate with being in Southside La Crosse, possibly southwest of the King Street mansion. (It may be on Cass Street though its front is never visible.) It is late morning. Through a window more on the right, I see a group of about five unfamiliar men who are all at least ten years older than me. They are wearing formal clothes in what seems to be a kitchen. I get the impression they are having a business meeting. My bicycle is leaning against the outer wall of a utility room to my left.

When the men come out, none of them seem to see me as a trespasser. I notice one cheerful man in a business suit who is now walking a bicycle not only identical to mine, but it is somehow the same one. I ask, feeling an increase in mental clarity (on the threshold of dream state recognition), “How is this possible?” He says, with a friendly tone and as if he knows me, “Parallel ground, Claude.” The men continue walking away to the right (when looking at the back of the house), presumably to use the private sidewalk adjacent to the house’s east side.

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Bicycles in my dreams are primarily vestibular system response indicators with literal correlations (chiefly imaginary kinesthesia that exponentially vivifies and sustains a dreaming experience the longer I focus on my activity) unrelated to symbolism. In this dream, however, I do not utilize imaginary kinesthesia by riding a bicycle.

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What does “parallel ground” mean? Here, it is a declaration from my protoconsciousness or personified preconsciousness at the threshold of my waking. The term occurs in electronics, so there may also be a reference to the mentation of dreaming and mind-body reconnectivity. It may also originate from the duality of dreaming and metacognitive dreaming as a whole.

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Morning of November 23, 1987. Monday.



Even though it makes no sense at all, there are (at least three) sharks under the floor (under the carpet in most cases) of the second story apartments of the King Street boarding house, mostly “swimming” north to south and back somehow just out of sight under the floor (and the floor is supposedly only water in some areas under the carpet where they can come up through), and even though there seems to be no flood or anything resembling the ocean this far inland. Regardless of the utter absurdity of the scenario, there is no hint of lucidity or dawning of even basic common sense. I am somewhat angry and frustrated over paying rent ($25.00 per week) under such conditions. I can walk down the steps and outside into the front yard or onto the front porch with no danger.

I believe some (or most) of the other tenants have left to find somewhere else to stay, including Leonard S, who is probably one of the last to leave. I do see him somehow fishing into his floor at one point though the floor seems mostly still solid.

How can a shark be in a house on dry land? Mental associations possibly destroy in-dream logic with the 1970s “Jaws” game, which I had, and at least one photograph exists where I have my face near the three-dimensional game’s open “mouth” in profile. I am never attacked; I just have to be wary of how I walk through my room to the door to the apartment. My large old (and loud) refrigerator, probably made in the early 1960s, sits inside the large clothes closet as in real life (which is where it was when I started to rent the particular apartment, strangely enough). Although I got along well with my landlord and landlady, as they lived in the residence below, it is possible that I viewed them as “sharks” on one level. It is also possible I had heard about carpet sharks previously.

Morning of October 30, 1987. Friday.



My dream’s title is based on having been a fan of Marvel’s “Werewolf by Night” comic book (the original series).

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I have had similar dreams as this where I am able to focus on my hands and grow claws and feel very vivid sensations of their emergence from my fingers, even though this dream is not fully lucid, as I know things are “different” yet I do not fully associate the state with being in a dream (but I do recognize its unrealistic nature). My dream colored my mood in a very lighthearted and positive way. I believe my name as a werewolf is “Sawtooth”. My becoming a werewolf is fully determined by my own cheerful desire to and not a result of the full moon’s influence. I am also aware of wolf canines growing but this is not uncomfortable, though I do clearly feel changes and pressure in that area (through semi-lucid threads of intent at one point).

The ending of my dream provides a strong state of happiness and an augmented sense of freedom, primarily freedom from the negative aspects of human society. I have become half-wolf, half-man, but I am still running upright like a human, to the southwest. It is about ten o'clock in the morning. Not that far away, to the south, my target is a very dense (fictional) forest, the trees seemingly only a few feet apart at least on the perimeter. It would otherwise be located about two blocks south of my older sister Marilyn’s house. I am blissful about living in the deep dark forest. Even though it is late morning prior to twelve, with no full moon anywhere - and in fact the sun is shining, I hear the howls of fellow werewolves from within the woods, and although there seems like twenty or so, I never see another werewolf in my dream. I still feel a strange seemingly serious kinship, even though the overall dream at this point is quite silly. There is a very cheerful, positive feeling, although I feel as if I will somehow completely “lose” myself upon entering the forest (not in a negative sense; more like being a playful child again, free as I was in the woods of Chipmunk Coulee before I went to public school), which is to be my home from then on. However, I awake before reaching the edge of the forest, the edge being east and west and almost perfectly straight across. Upon waking, in addition to general freedom, I realize that another aspect that was in the back of my dream self’s mind, is freedom from the expectations of others.

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The main influence here was “I Was a Middle Aged Werewolf” (even though I was young at the time of this dream), a “Highway to Heaven” episode, where the angel played by Michael Landon (who was born on Halloween in 1936) was also in “I Was a Teenage Werewolf” from 1957.

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Morning of September 13, 1987. Sunday.



I am not a main character here, it seems. My dream seems to focus on a different male. There are some extraordinary scenes that capture ancient Greece in amazing ways, including some sort of unusual mood that I cannot quite describe.

There is some sort of theme related to reincarnation, though I doubt the Minoans or the Greeks would have had belief in this concept in any major way. However, one male seems to “travel” into different lifetimes. His first lifetime is in some sort of arena. An actual minotaur is there and he has to fight with the creature. There are also a couple chariots in the area. It looks like he is ready to escape with my “mystery girl” on a chariot after somehow trapping the minotaur. There is also some sort of odd unicycle-like structure that comes down at one point (perhaps some sort of pulley). The minotaur is trapped in some sort of powerful opaque cage, perhaps a very strong wood. He is trapped just as he begins to charge.

Later, I am walking about in ancient times in a mostly featureless, somewhat barren-looking area, with several other people, possibly some younger Minoans. There is a strange atmospheric mood that is hard to relate.

Over time, the man (reincarnated I assume) returns to the same area but in the distant future. The area is similar but is now more intended as some sort of intergalactic museum, I think. He is standing in the area that is almost like an implied red carpet which leads directly to the trap that he had captured the minotaur in. An unknown person, perhaps a tourist, pulls on some sort of lever. Apparently the person, a female, seems an incarnation of Daphne. The unicycle-like device moves back and down from higher up and the trap is lifted from around the creature. The imagery is quite vivid and intense at this point and I am almost entering a state of vivid fear, though I am on the side of the opened trap and not in the path of what is to come out of it.

Suddenly, the minotaur is charging again from the exact same position he had stopped centuries prior and moves toward the man. I do not get to see the outcome, but I suspect he was killed, but that is not certain. There is a bizarre sense of grief I seem to feel from his wife, but I do not see anything at that point.

Although there are a lot of contradictions and conflicting information on this, one more reliable source says that the ancient Greeks believed that souls of the deceased were not reincarnated into another bodily form and placed back on earth, but lived on in either Hell or Heaven as a spirit. However, in all honesty, to actually claim that “all” people of a certain culture or time believed in a specific thing as a group is quite absurd, yet this wording is used all the time for cultures and such.

Morning of August 23, 1987. Sunday.



I am with Leonard S on a fishing trip at Pettibone Park, across the bridge from where we live on the south-side of La Crosse and where we often fish in real life. I believe it is late morning. There is an idea that the authorities might soon be here to “investigate” our fishing methods even though we are not doing anything wrong. After a short time, a helicopter appears in the sky overhead. Soon, it seems to have some difficulty staying up. It ends up moving down onto the ground at an angle, close to the riverbank, so that the rotor blades hit the ground and then seem to become like some sort of digging machine as dirt flies up - and the helicopter goes farther into the ground almost like it was designed to (and the rotor blades do not break, they just keep turning and digging, pulling the helicopter deeper into the ground).

From here, for some reason, my dream then only focuses on Leonard’s profile which takes on a rather odd insect-like appearance and his eyes seem to project visible dashes (a series of short “lines”) in the air, moving out horizontally from them in an old-fashioned-comic-strip-like indication of where he is looking (as if he is extremely puzzled by the helicopter’s “slow-motion” accident unfolding before him). He is still supposedly completely human. My dream becomes vague and partly abstract at this point.

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Leonard in this case stands for my dream self and temporary waking self hybrid (present in many dream types but not all). He is very puzzled over why the waking mechanism failed as a result of the association with sleeping longer (including anticipation of the return to slow-wave sleep), the short lines that project from his eyes create a virtual highway (or an implied linear pathway), a highway (or in fact any implied pathway) being a conduit for either deeper induction or the waking transition.

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Morning of May 11, 1987. Monday.



I have had quite a few of very similar dreams in my life, of a ziggurat in an unlikely location (including inside a larger department store). In dreams like this particular one, I see a smaller, more narrow and steeper ziggurat in an area in a residential neighborhood in La Crosse. It seems to have a church belfry at the top, though, but there is not much room to actually walk around, and it is no more than about twenty feet high. It also seems made with more modern techniques, even with wood and metal in the structure. There is a slight eeriness to these dreams, though bordering more on puzzlement, I think. Such dreams are usually uneventful and I make the choice not to explore the building, or rather, climb the steps, which in this particular dream, seem a bit too steep as well as too narrow in horizontal width from the center to properly walk up them. Also, I am not really sure of the purpose although it almost seems like a Christian-oriented church in some ways, or it may even be related to some sort of new business venture.

This is a dream I had when I was about nine or ten years old. I have remembered most of this dream because it is still vivid in my memory even fifteen years after the fact. I believe it has great personal significance for me though I am not entirely sure in what ways. I am not sure what everything in the dream means as of yet.

The most significant aspect of this dream for me was the colours. Every colour was so luminous and vivid that it still blows my mind today. I have not since had a dream so poweful in regards to colour alone like this one was.


The dream took place on a pirate ship in the middle of an unknown sea under a brilliant red sunset. The ship was a "stereotypical" pirate ship, except the wood and metal parts of which it was made were all shades of purple. It did not look as if everything had been painted purple - rather the wood was naturally that colour, as were all bits of metal and fabric that could be seen.

The water of the ocean was a deep purple-ish black, where it did not reflect the light from the setting sun anyway. The sky was a bloody red, as was the sun, which was frozen in place just above the horizon. There was only a slight breeze and no waterspray around the ship, even though all the sails where unfurled and billowing like they were being hit with a strong gail. The ship was as frozen in place upon the water as the sun was hanging in the sky. The ocean rippled softly like any calm sea and I could move around the ship freely, as I (and other DCs) were unnaffected by the time freeze that locked the sun and ship into place.

The purple pirate ship seemed devoid of all life save for me, though my dream form looked nothing like me as I appear in waking life. I wore all bright red clothing and dark red cape and I had long flowing white hair and a red hat that had a big yellow feather in it.

Anyway, the dream starts off in the setting I just described with me on the ship's deck, wielding a long silver sword, fighting a dozen or so large flying monsters that kept swooping down on me. The creatures looked like a cross between a monkey and a fish (with bat-like wings)and they were a puke green colour, except for their huge black claws with which they slashed at me as they swooped down to attack.

I wasn't the greatest sword fighter and I had no shield, but somehow I cut a few of the monsters down. As the carcasses landed on the ship's deck they oozed a disgusting blackish fluid before burning up in a blue flame and dissapearing. The carcass dissapeared but the ooze remained and it made it harder to fight the flying monsters because I kept slipping on the stuff!

I cannot remember now how exactly I defeated the monsters but I think some flew away before I could kill them. I have always though it was interesting, though I do not know the significance, that during the entire fight I faced the bow (front) of the ship. At no time did I turn around to face the stern (back) of the ship, even when dodging or attacking, and neither did any of the monsters land on any part of the ship while they were alive. The creatures seemed to want to avoid making contact with the ship as much as they avoided my swinging sword.

When the last was dead (and the ones that escaped were out of sight) I took a moment to catch my breath (still facing the bow) and heard a soft laugh from behind me. I dropped my sword in surprise, turned around and there was a man with long black hair standing in the doorway that lead to the lower levels of the ship. He was very handsome, kind of pale and dressed in black velvet, Victorian style fashion. Up until this point I thought that I was alone on the ship.

Despite the man's vampire-like appearance I sensed no hostility from him and he just smiled at me. We did not speak to each other but there was a warm, friendly feeling eminating from him and all the worry and pain from my fight with the flying monsters was forgotten. I vividly remember the handsome man's green eyes, which sparkled like emeralds and made my heart skip. I only got to gaze at him briefly however because the dream ended there.

I am going to start with a dream that I vividly remember from when I was approximately six or seven years old. Up until I had this particular one I remember being able to fly whenever I wanted to do so in my dreams. I realize now that being able to control my flying in my dreams may have been lucidity, but everything changed with this dream:


The dream occured on the street that I live on, which is a in a quiet, tree-filled neighbourhood, but in this particular dream it seemed more deserted than quiet. I remember taking a long look at the clear blue sky and then running down the street and leaping into the air. I was expecting to just take off and fly like I had always done before without problems - but I floated for only a few seconds and then just fell back to the ground.

I became very upset and tried several more times to run and jump, but again I only floated for a couple of seconds and then returned to the ground. The more I tried the less I could fly and the more my frustration build. As I was failing at flying and becoming more and more upset, the sky filled with huge, dark grey thunderclouds and the wind picked up drastically. Everything became very cold and I remember feeling very frightened - but I continued to run and jump in vain attempts to fly. I just wanted to get away.


The dream becomes fuzzy after that, but I do remember that I never did fly in that dream and I have not been able fly, or have any such control like that, in my dreams since then.

This dream is a little embarassing to post because it is disgusting and extremely bizarre. I was 6 when I first dreamed it and it reappeared occassionally until my early teen years.


The dream takes place in a post-apocalyptic like world and there is garbage and debris everywhere. Everything is destroyed or abandoned and the world seems devoid of people save for me. In the dream I am about 5 or 6 years old and am usually wearing a blue or white dress.

I wandered the desolate streets looking for someone, anyone, because I was afraid and very alone. When I did see someone, I would run up to them and without looking at me or saying a word he or she would turn around, drop their pants and projectile crap at me. Most of the people in the dream I can not recognize in waking life but one person I do know appeared repeatedly when I had this dream and that was one of my older brothers.

It did not matter where I ran, or who I ran into, I recieved the same treatment from anybody and everybody in the dream: they'd turn around, drop their pants and projectile poop at me. Even when I tried to run away, I would turn around and there would be more people there to block my path and do the same. There was no one in the dream I could go to, or talk to, and I remember feeling very alone and hopeless.

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 September 21, 1986. Sunday.



This is a shorter summary. My dream was much longer than it seems by this - but a lot of the time was mostly regarding some of the same visual aspects and conversations not quite recalled (seemingly in another language at times).

I am on an unknown island, probably near Indonesia. I have no clue to what island it is as it seems very small and isolated from the rest of the world. I am not quite sure if my companion and I had been in the past and are later in the present in my dream, or started out in the present and came back to the location in the future.

My male companion is somewhat like a composite of a Scotland Yard character and an archaeologist. He seems dressed mostly as a businessman at times. We find an isolated village that people said did not exist (supposedly being a legend). My dream is extraordinarily vivid but not lucid. We find a village where we make friends with three younger male characters. They have food served to us in mottled wooden bowels (I believe) and we become good friends. They are mostly spending time involved in rituals to do with fire and trying to call forth spirits.

Because my dream is more vivid, the atmosphere is very intense in the semidarkness. The floor is of dirt but there are grass mats in a few locations. The random flickers of the fire eerily light up the ceiling within the one-room building. I would guess their ages to only be around twenty or so.

We eventually leave the village and they seem somewhat sad. My companion and I go to a beach-like area. We seem to travel through time while just standing in one area near the ocean - into at least their future (but again, not sure if our future or our present). We go back to the hut and the same three men are there but seemingly ninety years old or more. They are still doing the same rituals in the smokey scene. They seem amazingly happy to see us and nod their heads lightly. A lot of emotion unfolds in this dream, a little more than many others of this time, and I had labelled it as a “breakthrough dream”. It colored my mood for about a week in a positive way, somehow.

I had this dream the evening (possibly into the next day) after reading a lot of other people’s dreams in a hardcover book. There was something on “breakthrough dreams” that connected with me somehow at the time. I do not remember the book title and did not write about the book itself. I have included the link for an older interesting but nearly 300-page PDF document that was based on some of what I read, though I do not agree with the work one-hundred percent by any stretch, especially now, but I used to really enjoy such works, mostly in the 1980s: http://elk.library.ubc.ca/handle/2429/26374

Morning of August 30, 1986. Saturday.



I am on the front roof (that goes out over the front porch) of my King Street apartment with an unknown dark-haired female (”mystery girl” who was literally and visually precognitive of my wife-to-be since early childhood) under a sheet. It seems to be late morning. Eventually, there is a strong wind and it pulls us into the air, with a very strange sensation moving through my body, similar to when I am “too close” to the edge of a roof or cliff in real life but the feeling is augmented. The “flight” and “fall” transforms into a natural waking mechanism though without the usual hypnic jerk.

Dreaming about anything related to a bed or sleep in most cases is just that, an obvious dream sign of the dream itself (and as is typical with any other native dream metaphor, with no “interpretation”), especially if the bed or bedding is in a different location than real life (though, even though it is very common, something I rarely catch in my own dreams as a possible trigger for lucidity, though this dream is very vivid). Being on a roof is also relative to a particular “band” of the dream state itself regarding a transitory state of consciousness (just on the threshold of the waking state). This is basically just a variation on the falling waking mechanism other than the visually precognitive reminder of my wife-to-be. Still, it is also a clever play on “magic carpet ride”, yet another flying symbol and analogous to the dream state itself. First and foremost, dreams are about dreaming and waking, instilled with precognitive and foreshadowing layers to prepare for what is to come (both immediate waking and potential elements yet to be). Wind relates to both the passage of time and long-term precognition.