Month: February 2015

Reality Checked

Reality check; a method of deducing whether one is in a dream or in real life. It usually involves an observation of some sort of sensory observation, usually visual. Most induced lucid dreams involve a reality check of some sort. A dream sign is a form of reality check that is more or less unique to the specific dreamer.- wikia.com

I have a few reality checks I do daily in order to get in the habit of running through them in my dreams. If the reality check fails, then I’m dreaming. My first is looking for words when I’m reading or on a bill board somewhere; I find this one works best. I glance at the words and the order they’re in and look away. I repeat them to myself and then turn back and re-read them; if they are in the same order than I’m awake, anything different tells me I’m dreaming.

Another is pictures and/or nature. I pick out several small details, turn away, think about the details and look back. If there are any changes, I’m dreaming, but not all dreams give me the benefits of these checks so I have yet another. This involves recall; if there is nothing to look at and take in the details, I think back from that moment I’m in and track my time-line until the moment, I woke that morning; so far, this has yet to fail me, until now.

I also used pain to see if I was dreamimg, for example, pressing the points of my keys into my skin somewhere. However, I gave this up  some twenty years ago when my dreams and out-of-body experiences became advanced enough to endure high levels of discomfort. Now I believe that I have reached another advancement in my dream worlds that go beyond the reality checks giving me something between dreams and out-of-body experiences.

Tuesday, February 16, 2015
I’ve come up with a new reality check idea. Whatever I have on me throughout the day usually goes with me into my dream states. I had thought about looking at the screen or pictures on the phone, but that would take too much time; pulling out the phone, putting in the password, and bringing up the screen or pictures. Besides, I’m always lying the phone down somewhere and in the dream world don’t recall the last time I noticed it with me.

I needed something that would be kept on me at all times and could be checked faster and easier—hence, a pocket watch. Other than my wedding ring, I don’t wear jewelry and hate anything strapped to my wrist. A pocket watch would be on me all during my waking hours; it’s also a quick and excellent source for reality checks. So today I went out and bought one. My new habit will be to check the time throughout the day, glancing at the time and second hand location, look away count to five and look back. Time should be the same but for five seconds later, but only if I’m in this reality.

I have mentioned before that my recall of the dream’s dialog is usually 90-95% accurate. Here, in this dream, I would place the dialog accuracy at 99% or higher.

Monday, January 19, 2015; Because of the nature of this dream, and a strong belief in the Multiverse theory, I am placing this under my out-of-body experiences.
I woke up in a strange bed, looking around and taking in my surroundings; I was in my parents’ guest room. There was a commotion in the living room, and I got up and dressed. Still very groggy, I left the bedroom to see what was going on. My wife was playing with two of my sister’s grandchildren, who were running around and screaming.

“You look tired,” my wife said.

“I could have slept longer if it wasn’t for the ruckus in here,” I told her.

“You stayed up much longer than usual. Go lie back down, and I will take the girls outside.”

“That sounds really good,” I said.

I turned and went back in the guest room, and not bothering to undress, I flopped down onto the bed. Just as I was dozing off, my father entered the room.

“You going to sleep all day?” he asked, which was more of a statement than a question. “I thought we were going to check out that new boat of yours.”

This made me perk up a bit, and I cracked opened my eyes. “I bought a boat?”

“Of course, that’s why you came down to Florida, to pick it up.”

“Why would I buy a boat?”

“You said you couldn’t pass up the deal on it,” he stated.

I thought back and recalled I had bought one, the marina selling the boat wasn’t too far from where my parents lived. My father slapped my leg. “Come on, you didn’t come all the way down here to sleep.”

I eased up, sitting on the edge of the bed. Stretching my body as I stood. I pulled my car keys off the dresser and proceeded out of the bedroom, and to the backyard where my wife and mother were. I told them that my father and I were heading to the marina and asked if they wanted to go. Both ladies declined, so my father and I left. The trip was about half an hour; I drove while my father navigated.

Just as we got in sight of the marina, traffic began to slow. I saw that there was an event going on with booths and water shows; this was where everyone was heading. After a few minutes, we made it into the parking lot. Finding a spot was going to be impossible I thought, but while passing through the front row a car was leaving. The driver backed out, and I pulled in. Prime parking gave me a view of the event and the water front.

“Front row parking, it’s going to be a good day today,” I informed my father. We got out of the car and looked around. I am not sure what was being celebrated, but the crowd was thick. This was the type of thing I always avoided, but not today.

“I’ve been here a couple of times,” my father said, “your boat should be over at that dock.” He pointed to our left toward the water, directly through the thickest part of the crowd.

The parking area we were in was on a hillside about twenty feet or higher from the water. The area directly to our left was another part of the parking lot but had been barricaded off for tents, kiosks and small activities for families. In front of us, a sidewalk separated the lot from a grassy area where a couple of yards down it split into two. The one walkway running down was ten feet wide and led to the waterside of piers, docks and small raised observation platforms. Further, down the boats were docked under a canopy that ran perhaps one hundred feet.

My father and I proceeded down the crowded walkway. A metal handrail painted bright yellow was supposed to direct traffic in opposite directions but today people seemed to be ignoring it. My father and I stayed against the handrail. As we had started down the grade, a man walking on the other side stumbled. Just as he had regained his footing, he said aloud, “I almost fell.” At that time, he stumbled again and did fall but in a fashion, which did not injure him. He seemed to take it in stride and laughed at himself. I laughed along with him and then stumbled.

As I caught myself at the last moment, I too said loudly, “I almost fell,” then bumped into a woman who was standing still looking up at the sky. I tumbled to the ground but softly on my hands and knees. My father laughed as did some others around us.

“That’s what you get for laughing at the other man,” my father said as he helped me back up. I glanced at the woman, not sure of who owed who an apology. She was still looking up at the sky in the direction behind me. I then noticed others looking also and more coming to a stop and staring. I turn and looked.

Because we were still on the hill part of the marina, I could see quite a bit of the town stretching out from us, but the sky caught my attention. Within half a mile of us and floating some 50 or more feet off the ground, were three silvery boxes about fifteen feet or more in diameter. I knew right away they could not be balloons due to the sharp right angles of their corners, so I guessed they must have been kites. However, I saw no ropes or guide lines holding them in place. Upon further inspection, I could make out things that may have been antennas.

“What do you think they are?” my father asked.

“I’m not sure. Something to do with the celebration I would guess.”

No sooner had I finished the statement when a loud boom filled the air. Before anyone could react or look for the source, the box on the left exploded in an ear-piercing blast. Pieces of the box showered the town below, some even making it to the marina. The crowd went silent and froze by the sight. Just as quickly as the explosion was over another boom sounded, this time I could see a military tank rolling down the street. The tank’s gun was pointed up, and another box exploded. From the left, a military jet streaked from the sky and was firing into the remaining box, but some unknown force caused the jet to come apart like the boxes but without the noise.

“Oh my god!” a male voice shouted, “We’re at war!”

“It’s terrorists!” a woman screamed.

More blasts could be heard from somewhere, and people began to rush around. For the most part, the majority of the crowd was running to the parking lot. My father and I had not moved and hung onto the rail to keep from being knocked over. I was still staring at the sky and picked out an elongated object in the distance. It looked to be a cylinder with skids on the bottom and a large disk at the front top. It seemed to be just leaving the side of one of the boxes and headed slowly across the sky when it was intercepted by a fighter jet. I could see the jet firing on the object, but once it got close, the jet came silently apart, its pieces tumbling to the ground.

“Those aren’t terrorists,” I yelled to my father, “that’s some technology we don’t even have.”

“You think it’s Russian or some other country?” my father asked.

“No, it’s alien,” I answered. Then it got me thinking. “Wait a minute,” I said, “I’m in a dream; this is all a dream.” I shouted.

“Son, this is not a dream, and I don’t believe in aliens.” my father countered.

“It’s a dream. I do believe in aliens, but I don’t believe this is an invasion.”

I looked around me for something to do my reality check on, but there was already so much going on that each second brought change around me. I went to my other strategy of reality checking. This involves retracing my time backward to when I awoke this morning. In this, if I can find any memory lapse, then I know it’s a dream.
I retraced back and forth quickly and recalled everything; I was awake. My anxiety level shot through the roof until my legs began to buckle.

“Oh my God, this is real! It’s all real,” I shouted to my father. “Oh God, oh God…” I repeated over knowing I was in shock. Something caught my eyes from the right, over the parking lot came a ship in a slow dive ascending toward us, along its port side followed an F-22 Air force Raptor. The ship was the same design as the one I had seen in the distance.

The main body of the ship looked to be made up of three interlocked cylinders, one on top and two on bottom, more than one hundred feet in length; each cylinder’s diameter was about ten feet. On top of the forward main body was a disk, five feet thick and forty feet wide. The disk sat back where a quarter of it hung over the front. The three cylinders tapered down and outward about five feet until it formed a small square hole less than a foot wide. Along the bottom of the ship, four skids protruded, two in front, two in back.

My attention fell back to the Raptor which stayed next to the port side of the ship. Both were moving too slow to stay up, and I quickly recalled thinking the alien ship must have the Raptor under some type of tractor beam. The ship along with the Raptor made a hard turn toward us, still in a dive. My thought was it had malfunctioned and would be crashing on top of us. Within a couple of hundred yards, small black boxes flew out of the front of the square hole from the ship. I say flew because they were fast but not enough to blur their view, also the only noise coming from them was the air they moved through. The small boxes quickly dropped down at a steep angle, their path right in line where my father and I were standing.

The handrail had us blocked, and I yelled at my father to lean in as much as possible. The blocks fell within inches or closer because I felt two of them brush my back. I heard them impact on the ground and waited for an explosion, there wasn’t any. I turned and looked down. The blocks penetrated the ground at only a couple of inches. A row of the blocks ran for several yards, and I looked back up at the ship. With the Raptor in tow, both turned right and upwards. I looked back to the blocks. Each one was around four inches wide and had landed at the same depth maybe two inches, and all spaced about eight inches apart. They all had a deep black color, but the interesting thing was how they had impacted.

Their path had run across the grassy area and the concrete walkway as if they had been planted there. There were no impact craters around them in the grass and in the walkway no signs of cracks. If anyone stumbled upon them, they would have thought the concrete had been poured around them. Fear and anxiety overwhelmed me to the point that I could not move. My left arm was grabbed and shook hard; I looked to see my fathers face pale but calm.

“We have to get out of here!” he yelled at me. I released my grip on the handrail as he pulled on me in the direction of the parking lot. I looked to the parking lot at the multitude of people in their cars fighting to flee. My feet did not want to move, and I looked down at them, willing them in my mind to obey. I could see the blocks running alongside of us, and something held my feet in place; it was a thought.

“Wait!” I shouted back to my father. “Don’t step on the blocks.”

“Why?” he asked.

“They’re not exploding and seem to be in some kind of pattern. They must be for some other purpose— we need to avoid them,” I said calmly.

Although my anxiety was spiking, I began to come to terms as to what was going on around me. Even if I had not been prepping for an alien invasion, it was still a “SHTF” scenario. I had to take control of the situation my father and I were in.

“We can’t take the car,” I told him. I pointed to the congested parking lot. “Nothing’s moving and all the roads are going to be just like that.”

I looked over to my car, which held emergency supplies in the trunk. I would be taking my chances opening it with the crowd of people in a panic. I was sure they would begin grabbing what I had.

“We have to get to the boat. Once we find it, you can get it ready, and I’ll come back for some things in my car,” I said.

“We have to get to the house; this waterway doesn’t go near there, and we have to get back to our family.”

“We’ll just get to the other-side and have to walk from there, but the roads are going to be useless.”

“I believe you’re right,” my father said. “If they finished prepping your boat, it will be there under that canopy,” he said, pointing down to the waterfront where boats were docked under the shelter.

The walkway had become almost empty as most everyone was in the parking lot and trying to leave. My father and I began a brisk run down to the docks. Along the way, the walkway took us through a small gazebo-type building that held drink and snack machines. I caught sight of another trail of the blocks the alien ship had shot out. It ran from the right corner of the building across to the far left corner. Here the blocks also looked to be molded only a couple of inches down in the floor. As I stepped over them, I took a look up at the roof. Neat, clean square holes formed in the roof  where the blocks dropped through, and square beams of sunlight shone down onto the floor. I called out to my father and pointed to the blocks, warning him to step over them. We continued through the other side and back out,trotting down to the water’s edge where the boats were docked. Under the canopy, we saw rows of empty slips; every boat had been taking including mine.

“Now what?” I thought out loud.

“Your boat may be in the back of the marina,” my father said, “That’s where the ones still being detailed are kept.” He pointed down the waterway in the direction of the end of the canopy. “I believe the pier here follows the marina’s length and around to the rear.” He took up the lead, and I followed.

We followed the pier which ran parallel with the shore about thirty feet out. Around a bend to the left, we hit a snag. The deck of the pier had been demolished and what was left were the pilings and their 2×6 struts connecting them together; about another fifty feet ahead, I could see several boats lined along a short dock.

“We can’t waste a lot of time going back and around again; we’ll have to make our way across the struts.” I informed my father. It was no big deal; the pilings were five feet apart, and the wood seemed sturdy enough to support our weight. My father took one side while I took the other. After about twenty feet, I heard my father grunt, and I looked over just in time to see him plunge into the water.

“Dad!” I shouted; he fell into the water and out of sight. I was just about to go in after him when he quickly popped back up.

“I’m OK,” he yelled while wading. He swam near the piling I was clinging to and looked up at me. “I’ll swim over to the shore and meet you at the boats,” he said.

Although I had heard him, my mind was transfixed on his eyes, the irises had turned nearly black so that I could hardly make out the pupils.

“Bill,” my father said bewildered, “your eyes.”

“Thy’re black,” I answered.

“Yes, how did you know?” he asked.

“Because so are yours,” I answered him. “Get to the shore Dad and we’ll worry about it later.”

He turned in the water and swam to the shore. I continued stepping from one piling to the other; they ended about fifteen feet from the dock of the boats. My father was already there and taking inventory of them.
“They’ve all been stripped of their gas tanks and batteries,” he informed me, “there may be some up at the maintenance building, we can go look.” he suggested and pointed to the large boat storage and maintenance facilities building some three hundred feet away.

My only way to him was to jump in the water or back track. “I’ll go get the car while you search the maintenance building for gas and a battery. We can then load everything onto a boat,” I shouted to my father, just as I was about to jump in the water.

My father saw me about to take a dive and yelled, “Wait!” I stopped and looked to him. “If you want to get to the car,” he said, “go back the way we came. To get to the parking lot from here, you have to go a round-about way which will take longer on foot.”

“OK,” I answered, “I’ll meet you back here.” He nodded, turned and headed to the maintenance building. I returned to crossing, once again on the struts between piling. Once back on the pier I took off in a hard run, and  coming around the bend I slowed to a quick walk. Some yards away a Coast Guard ship arrived and docked next to the pier where a had been dropped. Men and women of the guard were setting up some large gun. As I headed toward them, a female officer on the other side of the gun’s frame saw me and drew her side arm and aimed it at me.

“Stop right there!” she ordered. “Do not come any closer!”

I raised my hands, “It’s OK; I just want to pass through. I need to get to my car.” I made a couple of steps, and she cocked the hammer back.

“One more step and I will shoot to kill.”

“I’m not an enemy,” I shouted to her, “I just need to get to my car! It’s right up there.” I pointed behind her up to the hill where I could just see the front of my car.” While we shouted back and forth, the crew continued their rushing on and off the ship bringing parts and setting up the gun as if neither the officer or I were there.

“Turn around and go back the way you came,” she demanded.

“Lady,” I pleaded, “it’ll take too long to go around. Why can’t I just come through and be on my way?”
“Because I said you cannot pass through here. I don’t have time for this, go back now, or I will kill you,” she said.

“What the hell is going on?” a heavy male voice called out. I turned to see a man—a civilian—come down the ramp from the ship. He stood a good six and a half feet tall, close to sixty years old and dressed in a plaid shirt and blue jeans that were well worn. He was glancing between me and the officer. At the bottom of the ramp, his full attention fell on me.

I did not move but informed him that I just needed to get through and to my car but the officer holding the gun was being unreasonable. He stared at me briefly. “She can’t allow you through—you’re contaminated. You will have to go back, or you will be shot,” he said calmly.

“Contaminated with what?” I asked.

“Look,” the man explained in a laid-back tone, “you must have crossed over some blocks that the alien crafts are embedding everywhere. They send out a field that when you pass through not only makes you go blind but in making contact with anyone, causes them to go blind as well. You can’t come any closer, and you’re interfering with our work. I’m sorry but turn around now, or I will order the officer to kill you.”

“Blind, for how long?” I asked stunned.

“Don’t know, maybe permanent,” the man said with no concern in his voice. “You need to go.” he added.

I looked around only moving my head. It had begun to get darker. I had thought it was just the sun going down but when I looked, the sun was high in the sky. My only hope was to jump in the water now and swim across. I thought about my father and the need to get back to him as soon as possible. During those thoughts, I awoke from the dream.

Jaded

I’m a workaholic by nature, also using my job as a place to get away or put off things I need to accomplish like building my attributes. Hence, some of my dreams come from that source of my personality, a reoccurring message that my consciousness screams at me.

Monday, February 9, 2015; Unconscious dreaming
I was back at a company I had worked with just over ten years ago. I was in the office of my former employer chatting with him about vacation plans. He was telling me about an upcoming trip to Taiwan with his wife and a friend. Since my vacation was starting the same time as his, he invited me and my wife along, even offering to pay for the flight and room.

“That’s great but, you’re going for ten days, my vacation is only five,” I told him, “besides, I really don’t like to fly.”

“I’m the boss,” he said. “I’m extending your paid vacation to ten days and paying your round trip airfare as well. That should encourage you to get on a plane; besides, I have rented a plane for an aerial view over Japan from Taiwan and back.”

“I’m very grateful and accept,” I happily informed him.

In the next scene, my wife and I were going down a smooth flowing river in a raft. Up ahead another raft carried my employer, his wife and their friend. We were all enjoying the experience of Taiwan’s rivers. After sometime we landed on a small shoreline for lunch. The five of us sat on the pebble covered shore surrounded by bright green vegetation and a cloudless blue sky.

My employer had brought along his friend, the actor Ian Ziering. I talked with Ian about the movie “Sharknado“, and how I liked the actors, but I could not get past the bad special effects. After everyone had finished lunch it was back to the rafts; however, my wife and I decided to stay and explore more of the shoreline. My boss, his wife and Ian got into their boats; he told me to have fun, but make sure we were in time for dinner that evening.

Once the others had gone around a bend, my wife and I waded ankle deep along the water’s edge. My wife spotted a large, bright green stone in the water and picked it up. It was a jade stone, oblong, translucent and about half the size of a football. I could not get over the find and had her hold it up to the sun. The sun, shining through the veins inside the jade, made up an image like a laser sketch in a glass paperweight.

The image was remarkably like a small Asian town made up of reed roofs and bamboo walls; in front of the buildings was a small dirt road. I told my wife to hang on to it and we trekked further up the shore. In a few yards we spotted another, although not identical, it was nearly the same size and shape. Holding it up to the sun we saw the image created by the veins, this one of a small Asian man in a conical hat fishing at a small pond. As we admired it, I saw another near us; scooping it up, I held it to the sun—inside was a thick forest. I informed my wife we should place these in the raft and look for more. The dream then shifted to the next scene.

My wife, my employer Ian and I were sitting at a table in a very nice restaurant. My boss’s head was lying on the table and I knew we had (except for my wife) been drinking— my boss, heavily. A waitress came to our table and asked if we wanted another round.

“Yes,” said my boss in a slurred voice.

Ian and I replied at the same time, “No!“

“It’s time to take you back to your room,” Ian informed my boss.

We all stood but for my boss. Ian and I scooped him up by his arms and I told my wife I would meet her back at our room. As we carried my boss back to his room, he continued to mumble how mad his wife was going to be. After reaching his room Ian knocked and the door opened for us. We took my boss in and dropped him on the bed. Back outside I told Ian I would see him in the morning.

The next scene was the following morning and I was calling my boss’s room to find out what time we were all meeting for the flight over Japan. My boss answered in a dying man’s tone.

“I can’t leave the room,” he said, “my head feels like it’s going to explode.” With that, he hung the phone up. I looked over at my wife and informed her the trip had been canceled. Shortly afterward, I woke.

Negatively, the boss in my dream is me. It symbolizes my limitations and lack of freedom due to work.

(The vacation indicates) I need a break to recharge my energies and revitalize myself, get out of the daily routine and do something different; because I’m (The raft) drifting through life. The actor represents the pursuit of pleasure.

Finding the Jade stones indicates growth, healing force, purity, harmony, luck, immortality, and truth. It refers to the shaping and development of my personality which will only materialize if I seek it out.

The sun symbolizes peace of mind, enlightenment, tranquility, fortune, goodwill, and insight. Generally, the sun is a good omen, especially if the sun is shining. The jade stones combined with the sunlight give me everything I’m in need of.

In the restaurant I’m feeling overwhelmed by decisions and choices that I need to get to in life. Drinking denotes that I’m seeking escape and ending up with a hangover signifies these problems are not being solved.
In the end my vacation has gone bad suggesting that I’m not getting away from the daily responsibilities of my waking life; which is causing difficulties coping with life’s problems and issues.

-Dreammood.com

It’s the coward’s way out.

I specifically titled the dream because of the outcome. The meaning has to do with someone who injured me emotionally. I’m to face the person and expose the emotional damage, but right now I’m not ready or willing.

Saturday, January 24, 2015; unconscious dreaming
The first thing I noticed was sitting on the earth with my legs tucked up in a crossed position. I was holding an umbrella over my head due to rain somewhere in the woods alone, not sure how I had gotten there. Before I could think back, a stump within a couple of yards drew my attention.

A noise came from the stump that sounded like puppies playing. Every so often, I would catch a glimpse of the backside of one as it jumped. I had the urge to move over to the stump and play with them. When I stretched out my legs, they made a rustling noise against the ground. The two, what I thought were puppies, became silent. A conscious protective sensation came over me, and I remain still and quiet.

I saw a pair of eye’s peek out over the top of the stump and then drop back inside. Whatever they were; they were small and I convinced myself; I had nothing to worry about. Just then two brown and furry creatures leapt from the stump and fell to the ground. As soon as their paws were on the ground they charged toward me. I drop backward to my elbows and lifted my legs, just as they attacked. They were fast, and it was all I could do to kick them away from me. Each kick sent them a number of feet from me, and it only took a second for them to recuperate and dive back on me.

These could not be puppies or even small dogs; they were several times the strength of their size and too fast for me to get a look as to what they really were. The vicious little creatures did not tire, but were wearing me down. I gritted my teeth and kicked back with all I had and awoke seconds later.

 

A Time Traveled

In case you haven’t noticed, the posting of my dreams has no order, I wish it did. The time I get to write them out is limited and in the meantime, I’m having other dreams so some get placed to the side—then there is the mood I’m in which dictates which one I want to work on. Eventually some will go into limbo.
The following dream is about 4 years old and one of those I jumped back to every so often, somewhere along the way between PCs and formats the date got lost. If you have read my definitions of my dreams, you will see this one has been placed under dreams. This is only because I have no idea what type it was.

In the dream I’m fully aware but unable to control any part other than myself, so it’s not a lucid dream. By our scientific standards, it broke the laws of physics so, maybe not an out-of-body experience. So I placed it in dreams and leave it up to the reader’s imagination.
2011?

The transition between my reality into others is much like waking up. My first awareness is of light or perhaps some sound that gets my attention—in this case, sound. My first thought had been the squealing of many tires, then my body began to feel compressed. The squealing noise dug into my ears, and I had nearly awoken but forced myself to stay. I opened my eyes to a crowd of people packed around me. I was squeezed in so tight and unable to move, I guessed I must be at some event like a concert. My only movement was in my neck that allowed me to at least look up. I could see a roof above me with girders stretching across. The roof could have been no more than 15 feet high. The squealing, I came to realize, was from people. The surrounding faces were in a panic, and the squeals were screams of fear and agony. I pushed up on my toes, so I could see better; we were in some type of warehouse.

I eased further up on my tiptoes as far as I could rise. Staying in that position was not a problem due to the compression of those around me. The warehouse was about 100 feet in diameter. To the far wall in front of me, there seemed to be a gap of about 20 feet. What it was that kept the people from filling it I had no idea. My discomfort was becoming unbearable and along with the noise, I was under pressure to wake up. Something in the corner of the far wall to the left began to move. It was part of the wall raising. The section of the wall was perhaps twenty feet wide like the gap and ten feet high. The wall rolled up like a garage door. On the other side, I briefly thought it was another wall because it sat just inches from the roll up door. As soon as the door came to a stop the wall began to move inward. This caused a greater hysteria in the surrounding people, and the screaming became unbearable. The wall turned out to be a subway train that had sat outside waiting for the door to open.

As the train pulled inside, the surrounding pressure increased as the people in front pushed backward. The train rolled to the opposite wall and came to rest against it. Once the train came to a stop, doors along its side opened. I thought this would make the people happy as they could now enter the cars and release some pressure of those of us in the back row. Instead, they were fighting not to go inside the cars but in front they were forced inside due to the pressure of those of us behind them. Some clung to the side of the door entrances fighting to get back out. Some even climbed over the heads of others. I thought the screaming could not get any louder, but a new wave of panic arose. A gap appeared between the crowd about five feet from the train. It increased, and I saw those on the other side moving in the train. My guess was that a wall had come up and was forcing them into the cars. There were two cars about fifty feet long with wide windows. Through the glass, I could see people packed hard into the cars. The doors closed, and the train reversed back out of the warehouse. Just outside of the door it stopped. The rolled-up door began to descend while the train blocked the exit until the door had closed.

I looked around for an exit of my own but knew from the start if there was one, it would already be in use. People beat on the walls in hopes of finding some weak spot. Others joined in, and there was less pressure on me. With the pressure off me and some room, I, unlike the rest, pushed through the crowd to the back wall. As I leaned against the wall, a click sounded behind me. There was a small vertical seam running along the wall. I ran my fingers long it and felt an edge. The crowd in front had begun pushing against those behind them, and the pressure began to mount on me.

My body was pushed into the wall, and I heard another click and the line was gone. I then knew what it was, a pressure released door. Push and it opened, push again, and it seals. I shifted to the left of where the edge had been. Other bodies took my place and held pressure on the wall. I shouldered the wall, hearing the click, and the edge reappeared. I dug my finger nails into the edge and pulled. The door opened sufficiently to get my fingers inside, and I pulled hard. I could get the door open just enough to slip my body halfway in. Several people screamed in delight as they too saw the opening. I was slammed with pressure, which shoved me completely through. Due to the same pressure the door slammed shut.

I could hear the screams on the other side and knew that the panic from everyone trying to get the door open was, in fact, keeping it closed. I pushed on my side but the pressure from dozens or more bodies pressed against the outer wall was no match for me. I stepped back and looked for anything that could help pry the door open. Around me, was a narrow hall lined with stacked boxes on each side. I went to begin tearing through the boxes, but as soon as I had grabbed one, the screaming outside quickly faded. I looked back to the wall. I stepped up to where the door had been. I saw no outlines or seams. I held my ear against the surface and heard nothing. I tried pushing on the spot I had come through, but nothing moved. I slapped the surface and screamed, “Hello!” I placed my ear on the wall again, nothing.

I turned, looking back down the hall. The hall was still there, but the boxes held a more organized look. I walked down the hall between them toward a door at the end I had not noticed before. It was a plain door with a knob on the left side, when I turned the knob, the door opened. I stepped inside to a dimly lit room. The walls of the room were deep gray and computer banks ran along the wall beginning and ending just feet from each side of the door. The room was only about twenty-five to thirty feet in diameter. The computer banks ranged in height from four to six feet. Steady and blinking lights filled their surface along with screens here and there. To the left of me about the nine o’clock position stood a man in what looked to be early twentieth-century clothing. The man was jotting something down on a clipboard and seemed to be in deep thought; he had not even noticed me coming inside.

I closed the door which made a minuscule click but because the room itself was near silent the click made a small echo, startling the man. He jerked as though hit with an electric jolt and spun to face me. He nearly dropped the clipboard as he stammered out,
“Who are you?” he let out in a quick snap. “How did you get in here?” he added. I decided to answer his second question first. I turned a bit and glanced at the door.

“The door,” I answered him.

“That’s impossible!” he shouted, “That door is dead bolted from inside here,” I turned back to the door and searched for the deadbolt.

“There is no deadbolt,” I informed him. “Matter of fact,” I said while still looking at the door, ” there are no locks at all, even on the knob.” He rushed toward me. I thought he was on the attack and stepped to the side as he came head on but he stepped by me and up to the door. He inspected the door just above the knob.
“This should not have happened. This room including the door is in the neutral zone.”

“Well those people out there are in a panic and need help,” I told him. “Can you help them or are you causing their problem?”

“What people?” he asked.

“At the other end of the hall, in that warehouse,” I raised my voice at him.

“Warehouse?” he asked, surprised. “There’s nothing out there but dessert.”

I did not know what he was talking about but my concern was the warehouse full of people.

“We have to help those people,” I told him.

“What people? What are you talking about?” he asked.

I stepped over and pulled the door open and pointed out.
“There!” I glanced down the hall and was stunned.

The hall was replaced by the great outdoors. The outer door and frame had small leafy vines growing over the surface. Beyond the door, a wide-open expanse of field and trees grew sporadically. I stood stunned by the sight in front of me. My left hand held my balance against the door, but suddenly the door slipped out of my grip, and I nearly stumbled. The door slammed hard and the man screamed out, “This is a controlled environment.” I looked into his reddened face, only inches from mine. “I don’t know who you are or how you managed to get in here but, keep your hands off everything and do not open that door again.” He snapped the pointer finger of his right hand at the door while staring me in the face. He turned and rushed back to his console.

“There were people in some sort of trouble, an entire warehouse full of them,” I spoke out to him.

“Obviously they no longer exist,” he replied, his eyes never leaving the console screen.

He never gave my comment a second thought and went back to study his panel. Now that I looked, his anxiety seemed to be more on his work than my being there.

“What exactly is going on?” I asked.

“I’m a Chronologist. I’ve been able to create an existing path between the past, present and future. That computer,” he pointed to the six feet high box to the right of me, “bounces anything inside this cavern from the past to the future. The cavern has gone unchanged in the past millions of years to the far future. That way I can travel through time without effecting anything. However,” he snapped impatiently, “my established boundaries are somehow moving.”

As I watched him, his suit began to change. It went from the black overcoat, black pants and white shirt to a light-blue shirt and gray pants. When I looked at his face, it too had changed. His facial hair was gone, and his hair was several shades lighter. Although the cave itself stayed the same, the computers and panels changed shapes and places. Some vanished while others appeared in different places around the room.

“You’re changing the flow of time and the evolution of your world,” I informed him.
“What are you talking about? Nothing has changed.” Without looking at me, he tapped the graph on the display in front of him. “This cave is a neutral zone, that’s why I choose it.”

“The cave isn’t changing, you and your equipment are,” I told him.

“That’s ridiculous,” he said. While making the comment his hair went blond and his body trimmed down as his height gained more than two inches. “I’m the same as I’ve always been,” he finished.
I was going to make a comment on his appearance change again but it would not help. He was making small changes in the past which effected his body and mind while I was the observer.

“Are you changing?” he asked sarcastically. I knew it really was not a question but I answered him just the same.

“No, because I’m not from this time line or dimension. Changes here won’t affect me.”

“Then leave!” he demanded. “You are disturbing me and my work.”

In the time it took him to speak the sentence, his form shrank down to about five feet tall. His waist line increased greatly, and his face became fat, wrinkled and red like an alcoholic. His clothes became a suit that looked as if he had been wearing it for days.

“The only changes here are the equipment and the debris I cleaned out.” As he was stating this his waist slimmed and his face narrowed. His skin turned a light tan color. Along with his look, his demeanor calmed. The suit went to a two piece toga.

“What debris?” I asked. His attention went from his display to me and he explained patiently as his demeanor changed. “Just rocks covering the floor,” he said and went back to monitoring the displays.

A thought came to me. “Where did the rocks come from?”

He looked at me. “From the cave roof of course.” Before he could turn his gaze from me, I hit him with another question.

“How?” I asked.

“Age, tremors, earthquakes. It could have been a number of causes. What would that have to do with anything. The cavern has been here for millions of years.”

“That’s right. Also, you have had the computer here for millions of years. Just think about all the tremors and earthquakes it has gone through. All your equipment is sitting on hard ground. That would put a lot of stress on electronics being shaken up.”

The stones that made up the cavern suddenly seemed to swell. As the surfaces expanded they flowed over the computers and panels that made up the lab. The screens went dead and the man let out a scream.

“No!” he shouted. As he screamed, his form shrunk down to about four feet tall. His skin became a leathery brown and his clothing changed over to something like a gray jumpsuit.

“Get out!” he yelled at me as he ran past. I took notice that his new form also had his arms and legs the same length. As he ran, he had dropped to all fours and sped past galloping. I followed him outside. Once we were clear of the cave, we came to a stop and turned. The entrance was gone, and nothing remained of the existence of the cave. Before us was nothing but a sheer high cliff. There came a small high-pitched voice behind us, and we turned together.

Another small being resembling the Chronologist stood looking at us. The Chronologist said something back in the same high-pitched tone. The two began chatting back and forth but in some language I could not understand. The Chronologist waved his short arms at the wall, and I knew he was explaining all that had transpired. I left the two and went to explore this world.
The sun was very bright and of a strong white color. The sky was a milky white and may be had the slightest touch of blue. The cliff where the cave was stretched from horizon to horizon. The land I stood on was flat as far as I could see. I could tell all of it had been level at one time but either the part I stood on had sunken or the cliff had risen.

The flat land looked more like a dying orchard of short stocky bushes holding old looking fruit. Strange machines floated motionless three feet off the ground. To my right, one was an old tanker that may have held water. Its surface and lower nozzle covered in rust. Open cavities which once held hoses had rotted away. I walked over to it. The tank may have been around a 1,000-gallon capacity and was mounted on a large one inch thick metal plate. All the machines seem to be mounted to a similar plate. This may have been some material that caused it to maintain a floating height of three feet from the ground. I gave the tanker a small push, and the vessel moved with ease. After it moved away from my hand, it glided for a couple of yards and came to a slow smooth stop.

Not too far off hovered another piece of equipment. This looked like the arm of an excavator. The arm, like the tank, was set on a plate. The base of the arm sat inside a bowel that held the round joint of the arm. This would have allowed the arm 360 radii while also allowing for up and down movement. The base arm extended up about ten feet and met the fore arm at another elbow. The fore arm was about twelve feet long and hung down away from the base at 45 degrees. The end of the arm held a three limb claw. The tips look as if they would be used for plowing while the grip was small enough to pick or plant crops. Even with the weight of the arm extended beyond the edge of the plate, the plate had no tilt.

I heard a commotion back toward the cliff wall. I turned and saw the chronologist prying off the panel of what looked to be some strange tractor. It was a simple square looking box with a seat on top. The seat and controls sat on a pedestal which again was all mounted in the plate. The being we had encountered was jumping up and down chatting loudly. Once he grabbed the chronologist’s arm and tried to pull him away. The chronologist just pushed him away. I guessed the chronologist had been looking for resources in order to rebuild his time machine. Darkness fell quickly over me and when I looked around, I was in my bed. The dream came to an end.