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Morning of January 11, 1970. Sunday.



This was another favorite dream for a time, also at nine, and it had a few visually precognitive elements relative to Carol Burnett and Lucille Ball’s careers several years later. In my dream, I was in some sort of movie they were making called “The Story of Red”, which also had songs and poetry. (Oddly, I did not originally document the play on the fact that they were both redheads. In fact, this part “escaped” me completely at that age, for some reason.) There were some very moving scenes. I was given a special pair of red glasses that only allowed me to see in red (or rather - allowed me to only see things that were red - everything else was just a black background otherwise). I listen to the music, poetry, and the special narration. I look into blackness (seemingly from the doorway of an unknown kitchen - which seemed to be precognitive relative to a later location I had not been in prior) and see the beauty of a fire truck (and hear its seemingly melancholy siren - which seems to manifest a strange “false nostalgia” in my dream) going to put out a fire. I feel very aware. The fire truck seems to be moving towards me, but not directly, as it is oriented more to the right.

Later on, there is more poetry, often starting out with something like “red…the color of an apple…” - and talking about the beauty of the seasons (such as regarding autumn leaves) and such.

Near the end of my dream, I am seemingly living in a basement in a (fictional?) house where both Carol Burnett and Lucille Ball live (as if they are somehow both my mothers, perhaps). (This seems related to an episode of “The Lucy Show” that I saw on the night of October 31, 1966. In fact, it seems there was a “prototype” of this dream on that date.) Features of the room also resemble the apartment on Rose Street, where I had not lived in about four years.

I am eventually in a folding bed (rollaway cot) near an old winter stove (almost as if I am preparing to wake up by going to sleep within the dream). All of a sudden, hundreds of pieces of coal (or charcoal briquettes) emerge from the stove (far more than it could actually realistically hold) into the room, like some sort of “flood” and I “float” on top near the end of my dream, getting higher and higher for a short time. It seems a bit odd and rhythmic and almost like a body function. It is somewhat like a hypnopompic experience though I am still fully in-dream.

It is also likely that there is a play on the expression about “rose-colored glasses” relative to my dream, which is mentioned in my original documentation. There is also a scene where I look in a mirror and see only the glasses floating in the air.

This dream is type ECA. Fire is often present as emergent consciousness, but in this curious and unusual segment at the end of this very long dream, I am lifted from my small rollaway bed as my emergent consciousness is depicted as countless charcoal briquettes (or coal) that pour out of a small stove into my room. The amount of coal is much greater than the stove could have contained. I wake at exactly this point (though the coal does not burn and it is not implied to be hot or threatening - in fact, I find this transition amusing, and there is an odd “visual stuttering effect” as I rise higher as if my emergent consciousness can not quite “ignite” at first).

Morning of January 10, 1970. Saturday.



A boy I knew in real life as a classmate, Bobo C (at least he was always called BoBo though that was possibly only a nickname) was a couple years older than other students, and he had a mental disability (and apparently did not have access to a special school). He would continually shout “Are you sassin’ me?” (in the lower grades) when anyone talked to him, though as he got older, he seemed to become more settled and less emotional. He even became friendlier towards me and more than once took back a comic book from someone who had taken it from me without me asking him.

His persona becomes a “tall” dwarf in my dreams (I know - makes no sense). There is confusion of Rumpelstiltskin (which is not related to the “Snow White and Rose Red” story to my knowledge) in being the son of Rip Van Winkle (which is completely unrelated to either story in reality - though the names both start with “R” and have four syllables). Either there is two of him, or the father is much like the son in appearance. Both are old and have long white beards. I play a game with the names, everything from “Rump Van Winkle” to “Ripple Still Skin”.

At the edge of the world (which I originally wrote as a child in journals as the “end” of the world - not knowing that term was more relevant to an imagined event rather than a place) is a sort of barrier, like a single brick wall (not very wide - perhaps about six feet across and with a partial implied doorway or section of missing bricks), but with decorative residential features near the opening, such as an upright flower pot with one flower and a tipped-over one on the other side. This is where Snow White and Rose Red watch the world below. In this situation, they are enemies (both after the same male - me and their “place” on Earth). There is no logical realization that perhaps a person could just go on either side of the area with the wall, though I still get the impression there is not much beyond that (other than perhaps a long narrow bridge floating in space).

Bobo just wants to leave the region as he does not like the idea of “falling off the edge of the world” as he claims Columbus actually did (and was never heard from again). At the ending of one version, he climbs “invisible stairs” rather oddly (as if by two invisible steps at a time), though I somehow “know” they are not actually there and if I tell him they are not there, I might become responsible for any injury he incurs. Where he is going, though, is undetermined. If nothing exists beyond this space, where will he end up at?

Not much happens. I am tempted to turn the one plant pot upright, but do not have the bravery to do so. The ground may not be solid there.

One girl (I do not remember which one but probably Rose Red) is at an old-fashioned spinning wheel. However, she is not spinning gold but sharpening a knife. It is for a battle to come. (“Did you find a directing sign on the straight and narrow highway?”, “Someone is waiting just for you - spinning wheel is spinning true”.)

This was a “prototype”, apparently, for my “Castle of Winds” dreams in the 1980s (though there was a version in the mid 70s) and my life’s path in general, on a higher level - as the “other” (Susan R) “battles” my wife-to-be (long before I learned the “mystery girl” was real), and of course, the blonde hair and dark hair is relevant in this case. An invisible staircase could suggest “not getting the (right) support” (especially as he was mentally disabled) but stepping up anyway.

On a side note, yet more synchronicity. I just went to Facebook briefly and a brother (who rarely posts) left something on my timeline (for no apparent reason that I can presently guess, as there was no comment) - an animated GIF link featuring mostly red roses in very large clusters. I sometimes wonder how something can be so consistent, especially something “unexplainable”, and especially when the majority of people supposedly do not experience it.

Night of January 2, 1970. Friday.



This dream was more likely into the very early morning of the next day, perhaps around one or two am of the (beginning of) third of January. In my dream, I am aware that I am “sleeping” on my right side and oriented with my head to the north though the bed is in the southwest corner of my room and aligned against the west large jalousie windows. The time in my dream probably reflects the same time it is in reality. Even though I am apparently “sleeping” I am still aware of a scene (still in my dream-body as such - in my in-dream “sleeping” role yet somehow fully aware at the same time), of a shadowy unknown presence moving quickly into my room, a bony hand (seemingly of an adult - I am only nine at the time) gripping me on my left shoulder, me suddenly being aware and “waking” and turning around to look - and yet the presence, perhaps a human being, is gone immediately. I am left with a strange feeling on who it could have been - perhaps my future self with an important “message” for me, but the “other older me” left because I was asleep - but in contemplation, no human being could move that fast - though there is no stronger fear or concern remaining in my thoughts a short time later.

This is a rather unique dream in that it was a directly self-fulfilling “anniversary” type where, in 1977 on January 2, my dream reversed the roles; that is, I dreamt of touching a younger version of me on the left shoulder while in my Cubitis bedroom in the exact same setting and feeling of time. I do not really see this mundane connection of a self-fulfilling dream as remotely odd or unexplainable (even though others had when I was younger), especially in regards to the thousands of my dreams that did have unexplainable aspects concerning remote-viewing and precognition, which were always validated in very interesting ways.

The name of the second movie on “Shock Theatre” this night was called “The Clutching Hand”, though I did not see it or know of its plot (I sometimes fell asleep before the second feature started), so the title alone could have been the trigger for this dream, though again, it was not horror-related.