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72

To dream of the number 72, may reflect feelings about how terrible it is to finally have to face conflict you don’t want to deal with. No longer being able to avoid a conflict.” dreambible.com. This dream would relate to an earlier dream; “It’s The Cowards Way Out.”

Sunday, March 1, 2015; Unconscious dreaming

My wife and I were going through a home we had just bought, unseen. The home was one story tall, and we entered through the front door which led into a large living room. The room was about twenty by twenty feet and furnished with a couch along both right and left walls. One each end of the couch was an end table with a tall lamp and simple white shade covering the bulb. On each side of the end tables stood large cushioned chairs matching the coaches. In the center of the room ran a coffee table from the first set of chairs to the furthest chair.

Directly across the living room was the kitchen, it too was quite large. In the kitchen all appliances ran across the far wall, along the right and left walls were six doors each. I walked over to the first door on the left and looked in. Inside ran a wide and winding hallway with doors along each side of the walls. I stepped in while my wife waited at the kitchen. I walked over to the first door on the right and opened it. The door opened to a large, well furnished bedroom. On the far side, I could see another door, which was opened to a full bathroom.

I went in and examined the room. It held a king-size bed with beautiful patterned bedding. The room was set up like a high end hotel. In the bathroom hung towels and a shower curtain, which matched the bedding. The sink’s counter was stocked with all the necessities such as soaps, shampoos and conditioners. I left and went back out into the hall crossing over to the next door. Inside I found another bedroom. This one also was fully furnished, although decorated differently than the first and had a full bathroom. I closed the door and walked over to the next door in line.

Again, I found another bedroom just as furnished as the other two with the full bathroom but the decor much different. Closing the door, I went to the next one and the next after that. In all, there were twelve bedrooms in this hallway; after my inspection of the last door, I returned to the kitchen. I informed my wife about what I had found and proceeded to the second door on the left side of the wall. Down the hall, I found twelve more bedrooms, six to a side. No two had been alike including the placement of the bathrooms which could be on either of the four walls, and the beds which in some rooms were twin beds.

My inspection of the other four doors off from the kitchen turned up the same; twelve bedrooms and bathrooms in each hall all neatly decorated independently. In the last hallway inside one of the bedrooms, I meet a cousin of mine, Kenny. I was surprised to see him and asked if he lived here. He said he did not but had heard I had bought the place and came to check it out. He informed me that the place used to be a bed and breakfast; I then realized why there were so many bedrooms. Back out in the kitchen we meet up with my wife, and I informed her of what Kenny had told me. She got excited and suggested we turn it back into a B&B at which point I awoke.

Entering through a door signifies new opportunities that are presented before you. In particular, a door that opens into the inside denotes your desire for inner exploration and self-discovery.

The hallway symbolizes self exploration. It is the beginning of the path that you are taking in life. You are going through a transitional phase and journeying into the unknown.

The bedrooms signify aspects of yourself that you keep private. If the bed is made, then it symbolizes security.

The bathroom, relates to your instinctual urges. You may be experiencing some burdens/feelings and need to “relieve yourself”. You need to cleanse yourself, both emotionally and psychologically.

Your cousin in your dream represents something or some aspect of your character that is somewhat familiar.

6 hallways; The number 6 in a dream represents negativity. When you see it in a dream it’s pointing to thoughts, emotions, behaviors, or life experiences that are negative.

12 bedrooms in each hallway; The number 12 represents constant problems or the inability to escape conflict. Living with trouble. You may be surprised that a problem will never go away.

6×12=72

Dream references;

dreammoods.com

dreambible.com

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.

Tiffany’s Loft

Sunday, June 13, 2010, this was the first day of and posting to; “expandurmind.com.” It started as a simple blog, a sharing of my dream journal. I never would have guessed at the time how quickly it was going to grow.

In the past four years, I watched with joy as my numbers grew from single digits each week to hundreds until I had built an audience of over 20,000 followers. Because I did not want my audience to be bothered with ads, sign in pages, passwords and other jumping through hoops, I used the best on-line services for their comfort. Of course with great services, comes great cost. I tried several avenues to create some income to help support these sites and background software; however, none ever panned out.

I also made a lot of changes to my format due to growth and technology. Now it’s time for another change. I have a need to continue sharing my worlds with you, that will not change; so, sometime after the first of the year I will be publishing in a new format, e-books. This, hopefully, not only helps me recoup money for cost, but I will be able to publish dreams that were not suited on my sites for an open audience. I hope you will support me.

Wednesday, December 21, 2012; Unconscious dreaming
Our home has a couple of crawl spaces on the top floor we use as storage. In this dream, I was cleaning out some clutter in one of those spaces when I came upon a small door. It looked like any door that might lead to a room of the house but small enough that I had to stay down on all fours. I opened the door and stuck my head in, expecting to find another crawl space. What I found was a very large room. I crawled inside and stood. I realized this was an attic that we had never known was there. It was as wide and long as the first floor of our home, including the high ceilings.

To the right of where I was standing were three small windows set in the wall facing out to the front of the house. I wondered how I had never noticed them from the outside or that the house was taller than I had thought. As I stood where I had first entered, I could nearly see the entire place. The attic looked to have been under construction at one time, changing it over to an apartment. Framed walls were put up separating the area into 3 or 4 sections.

There was a couch next to my left and a bed across the way into another room. There seemed to be three walls separating the rooms, but they had never been finished so that only the frame of two-by-fours made them up. Two of the windows running along the front wall were in what looked to be the living room, while the third was at the far end over a sink in a small kitchen.

As I stood there my wife called for me through the door of the crawl space in the main house. I shouted back asking her to come to where I was. Moments later her head poked through the small door and she came and stood next to me.

“What is this?” she asked.

“I don’t think it’s an attic,” I said, “It’s much too large. I believe that the house was originally a duplex. Seems it has been closed up for a long time,” I explained.

“Why didn’t the previous owner tell us about it?” she asked.

“My guess is he did not know it was here. The place looks like it was lived in while being built. For some reason it was closed up. Maybe it was a place for the first owner and they never said anything.”

“How long have you been here?” she asked.

“Just a couple of minutes before you. You want to check it out?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said.

We took a slow walk through the place. The first spot we headed to was the far wall where the sink was. The kitchen boundary was marked out with lines someone had placed. These lines were going to be the walls which had never been started.The couch was on the left next to one of the unfinished walls and faced two of the windows. From where we stood, there was a small room that looked as though it was going to be the kitchen. The only thing there was a large sink under one of the windows. Several feet to the left was another unfinished wall and to the left of it a fully made bed. The sink which was a deep basin with a long faucet hanging above had water dripping out.

“So this is why our water bill has always been so high,” my wife said. “This water has been running for decades.”

I reached over and turned the handle and the water stopped.

“I can not believe someone would have turned the water on and just walked away,” she added.

“I can’t imagine the thousands of gallons that have gone to waste,” I said.

We left the small kitchen and made our way to the bedroom where the bed was. The bed was hand- made of wrought-iron, very beautiful with thick bedding of quilts and large pillows, also hand-made. The bed appeared to have been made yesterday as it been locked up and dust free for so many years. I pushed down on it, feeling just how soft it was.

“Wow, we should come up here to sleep,” I told my wife. I patted the bed hard expecting some dust to float up, but none did. We left the bedroom and walked into the back of the attic. This part was more of a storage area, and a lot of items had been left behind by a previous owner. Along the same wall beside the bedroom, a lovely antique glass cabinet stood empty. The cabinet stood about 3 feet and less than two feet square. It had a single door and inside just one glass shelf in the middle. I thought it would make a great place to put some of my finer star-ships.

Along the opposite walls were many boxes that my wife was inspecting when she called me over. Next to the boxes were two lamps each with a base, at least a foot and a half in diameter and holding a slim iron post of about six feet. On the top of those posts were the most beautiful lamp shades I’d ever laid eyes on. The shades were about a foot in length, 6 inches in diameter at the top and spread out close to 10 inches at the bottom. However, what made them so spectacular was the Tiffany glass embedded in the outlines of copper. The glass was made up of checkerboard squares, each about 1 inch in diameter and in every color imaginable. Inside each of the shades was an old-fashioned clear light bulb and by the looks of it, the bulbs possibly still worked.

Even with very little light coming in through the windows a small silhouette of colors could be seen glowing against the wall next to the lamps. I slowly circled around one of the lamps. Taking in each one of the beautiful colored squares, no two of the same color. Mesmerized by the intense beauty of the shade, I paid no attention to my movements until I felt a bump against my back. I knew instantly what I had done. I swung around to see the other lamp falling away from me. I quickly swung out to grasp the post of the lamp only to miss it within a hair’s breadth as it continued to fall further from me.

Although the scene was not in slow motion, my mind flashed through the thoughts of the destruction that was coming, something so beautiful, lasting for decades destroyed by my carelessness. My wife and I watched breathlessly as the lamp closed the space with the hardwood floor. The closer it came to the floor the higher my stomach rose into my throat.

There was the loud, “THWAK” as the lamp came to an abrupt stop on the floor, the shade catching the full blow. The noise and impact made my body jump, and even though it was not a lucid dream, I’ve always been surprised it did not jolt me awake. There was a tap as the lamp actually made a small bounce reeling back from the impact. The lamp rolled back and forth a couple of inches and came to rest.

Possibly because of the thickness of the glass and the quality that was put into such beauty in the days of old, the lamp lay there completely and beautifully intact. My stomach dropped into place, and I let out a hard breath of air, not realizing I had been holding my breath. I placed my hands over my face and shook my head, relieved. I took a deep breath, exhaling then opened my eyes to find myself in bed, awakened from the dream.

It’s all about Balance.

Although this is a short dream, the total breakdown and meanings were over two pages long. Simply put, the dream signifies balance and how I am nowhere near it in my life at present. I have too much work, not enough time, leisure and relaxation, which is not what I want but what I have to settle for. This dream reveals transformations of who I am and who I want to be. It’s all about balance.
The crane in the dream is a symbol of my occupation and bringing my work home; also, any lift a crane makes has to be balanced. My world is being made up of dualities and opposites, as in light and dark, heaven and hell, yin and yang, etc. Right now, it all seems to be broken.

Sunday, October 19, 2014; Unconscious dreaming

I was in my living room doing some writing when a noise came from outside the west window. After some time, the window began to rattle from the commotion of something getting closer. I laid down my writing material and walked to window and looked out. A large crawler crane, specifically a Manitowoc (a brand of crane) was moving from my backyard to the front. A crew of four men surrounded the crane as it traveled, two from behind and two up front holding onto tag-lines that were fastened to the crane’s load.

On the end of the hook, the crane carried two cylinders about 40 feet long and 10 feet in diameter. As the crane slowly traveled past my window, I noticed that the upper body of the crane was broken away from the car body. How the entire structure did not topple over and come crashing to the ground I could not understand. My gaze followed the crane and crew as they made their way to the front of my house. I left the living room and proceeded out through the front door to see where it was headed.

An area in the middle of the yard had been marked off, obviously the resting place for the crane and its load. I stepped onto the porch and wandered over to the area to watch the progress. Just as the crane was entering the area, I happened to notice a mother rabbit giving birth to the last of four kits. Fearing they would be crushed, I rushed over and scooped up the four kits still wet and bloody. To my surprise, they transformed into newly born kittens; they had to be moved. I rushed over to some out-of-the-way hedges and placed them deep inside the foliage. As I released them, they transformed back into kits.

I looked over to where the mother had been giving birth to them and saw she also had transformed into a cat. She was eager to get to her babies, but I stood in the way. I stepped back several feet giving her room. She quickly dashed in the direction in which I had laid the babies. On the last few feet, she leapt into the air transforming back into a rabbit. She landed on the edge of the bush and quickly darted underneath to her kits. I turned back to the work in progress and noticed that the crane was in place, the load landed and secured, and all the crew had gone.

Homeless

I stay pretty much a positive person, doing my best to look on the bright side of things. No matter how bad life can get, I’m sure there is someone near by who would gratefully trade places with me—whatever the situation is, it could always be worse. There are dreams that deeply depress me after I am awake, usually they are of other realities in which my life could have been totally different. I can usually deal with them, unless they involve my children or grandchildren.

These dreams I just would like to forget about because I know in all the realities out there, this may be another scenario I am living through. One thing to make clear, my father in this dream is not the father in my life here. I am blessed with a very loving father.

 

Wednesday, June 11, 2014, (an unconscious dream)

I had a very depressing dream to the point of wanting to forget it rather than write it down. I had my three children; Jonathan, Daniel and Marie who were 5, 4 and 3. We were homeless and living on the street. I had looked for work but there was none. In the dream, I arrived at my father’s apartment with my children. He answered the door and when he saw us, an irritated look appeared on his face. I explained my dilemma saying I had hoped we could stay with him until I had gotten work and a place to live. Since it was so late he allowed us to spend the night in his apartment. He made it clear that we had to be out by the time he got up in the morning and if anyone awoke him, we had to leave right then.

He did share his food that evening and went to bed after informing me we were not to awaken him. He closed the door to his room, which seemed to be made of thick steel. Because the apartment was only a one bedroom, I made beds on the living room floor, while Jonathan my oldest, helped his brother and sister get comfortable. The following morning I had to wake up the kids and leave. They were hungry, but I had been afraid my father would have awakened so we had to leave hungry.

We walked for some time, with my children upset because they were still tired and in need of a meal. As we passed a motel, an idea came to me. I took the kids behind the motel and came in through the rear door of the lobby. The motel had a free continental breakfast for its guests. Coming through the rear lobby door made it look as though we had stayed the night. We did not have any baths in sometime. What hurt me most was seeing my daughter filthy. Her long hair not brushed in sometime and her clothes were hand-me-downs from her brothers.

We all ate until full, and I had the kids stuff their pockets with what they could. This would provide some food for later. On the way out of the motel Daniel, my middle child, asked me if he could have a bath. It was heart breaking, but I had to explain we had nowhere to bathe. He asked if we could go back to his grandfather’s and use his shower. I knew what my father’s answer was going to be, but I had to ask for my children.We walked back to my father’s apartment, hoping he would at least allow us the use of his bathroom. I knocked lightly on the front door, but he never came. I tried the doorknob and found the door to be unlocked. I stepped inside and looked around. I had the kids come just inside the door and told them to be quiet. I tiptoed down the hall to his bedroom. The thick steel door was closed and locked, meaning he was in there but asleep. I would not even dare to awaken him knowing the results if I did. Our best bet was to come back in the morning when he was up.

I had to tell my children we would have to wait. Outside was dark, and I had to find a place for us to sleep. Marie held up her arms for me to carry her. I picked her up, and we left the apartment. Jonathan took Daniel’s hand, and they walked alongside me. Marie quickly fell asleep in my arms. I recalled a large stroller nearby someone had thrown out. If it was still there perhaps I could use it to put Marie in as a bed, but because it was late and dark by then the children were too tired to walk anymore.

Across the street from my father’s, apartment was a park. I led the boys into the thick grass and lay down. I kept Marie on my chest and had Jonathan and Daniel lie on each side of me. This way, they could use my shoulders as pillows. I wrapped my arms around them, and we all went to sleep in the grass. When I awoke, I was back here in my bed.

 

My visit with Patricia

My visit to the following place had to have been over two hours. The discussion between myself and one other person would fill twice the pages I have here if I wrote it all out. As I like to write out the conversations, I have in my dreams, most of this discussion was on me and my family along with a lot of personal things. Because of this, I only wrote out what pertained to the person and place I was in.

Thursday, April 24, 2014; (Out of body experience)
I had been on a boat for a few minutes when it came to me that I was dreaming. From what I saw, the boat may have been somewhere around 60 feet long and about ten feet wide. It was built as a shuttle because the interior had soft seats lined on each side facing each other. The top was covered in a tinted glass or plastic to protect the passengers from the bright sun and elements. I looked around seeming to be the only one aboard.

I stood and looked out the canopy on each side. The sky was a cloudless Maya blue, and the water around me was vast and calm. To the back of the boat was an open area. I walked to the rear and stood on the stern. A coastline was far behind me from where the boat had left. I turned and headed to the forward section to see who might be piloting the vessel.

The boat was far quieter than I expected, and moved quickly over the water. The bow held a sliding a transparent door which led out to a ten-foot ten-foot square deck. I did not see any cabin or area for piloting. I figured the boat may be self-propelled. I looked out over the water in front. A few miles a head rose a tall structure out of the ocean; it seemed this was my destination.

The structure was a trio of colors. Its main surface was white with dots and streaks of green. Around the dots of green there blazed azure blue lights. As I got closer the structure looked more like an ocean vessel, larger than any, I had ever seen in my reality. Three tall inward curved columns rose into the air and met at a dome structure topped in green.
Soon I began to pick out the green as gardens and the top dome as a forest. People walking along the waters edge of the structure came into view. Just over a mile out I could see the columns outer surface held terraced gardens. The blazing azure blue turned out to be windows set all throughout the structure. A ring of them ran around the edge of the dome. On the level just above the water some fifty feet up to the windows looked to be door openings onto balcony gardens. These were wide and placed about twenty to twenty-five feet apart.

Between the apartments and water line, the structure sloped out into a beach perhaps one hundred feet. This I assumed ran around the entire structure which had to be at least a mile wide or more. An area I was approaching had docks cut into the surface. A few held boats like the one rode in. Standing next to one of the empty docks was a woman looking my way.

The boat slowed and eased into the slip that had been molded into the shape of the boat. The boat docked smoothly and fit into the slip as if it were part of the surface. The woman stood only a few feet away watching me. She had a deep tan unless it had been her natural color. Her hair was curly and held nearly the same tint as her skin coming down to touch her shoulders. She stepped up to the boat and held out her hand; I took it and stepped up next to her.
“William?” she asked surprisingly and with an astonish look.

“Yes.” surprised myself she would know me if this was an out of body experience. With the look on her face, she had not been expecting me.

“Hi, it’s so great to meet you. I’m Patricia.” her gaze at me turned to one as if she were meeting a celebrity for the first time.

“Were you expecting someone else?” I asked.

“I wasn’t expecting anyone. I just found myself here, on the shore of my home. You may not understand, but I’m having a dream or an out of body experience.”

“Then we both are; this must be a meeting place between realities.” I announced to her.

“I only arrived a few moments ago right here. I saw the boat arriving and thought I should wait. When you got close, I noticed you from pictures on the net.”

“Your facial features resemble my daughter.” I told her.

“Really? It does make sense you see; I am the great-granddaughter of your granddaughter Abby.” she said.

“That would make you my,” I had to think, “my great, great, great-granddaughter.”

“Yes.” she asked.

“So you’re in the future while I’m in the past. What year are you from?”

“2105. This is my home.” she waved her left arm over the structure, “or the dream version but, it is accurate.”

“If this is a ship, it’s huge.”

“It’s a floating community, a home. Also an acronym for Habitations Of Mobile Environments. I’ve been trying for years to find out more of my family. There’s not much on my father’s side. All I know of my mothers is my great-grandmother Abby, who I met once when I was five. We stayed with her for a few days. I told her of dreams I had. She said I took that after my great-great grandfather. She said he visited strange places in his sleep and shared them with the world. She added he even had visited her great-granddaughter when she was much older, and her name was Patricia also.”

“Which one was that?” I asked.

“My visit with Patricia.”

“I don’t recall that one.”

“I’m sure. That’s because you haven’t written it yet. My guess is this is it. When you get back in your reality, you’ll write it and post it to the net. It’s how I’ll find you.”

“I would have thought it should have been easy; it’s the Internet. At least, some version of Facebook would still be around.” I said.

“Let me take you on a tour of the place and I’ll explain.”

“Is this keeping within the dream I’ll write out.” I asked.

“Yes.” she began stepping toward the inner structure, I kept to her side.

“There is no Internet, a few things killed it. It took away all privacy. A majority of people dropped it others just got bored. Those that stuck it out began to lose everything. There was so much corruption on the net that millions of people lost everything in stocks, finances and stolen identities. Businesses collapsed from people removing themselves from the online world. Businesses that were off line became the new money makers. The only way to make it, was to stay away from the net. Some government and historical societies kept a lot of the data for history, but it soon became illegal to keep any personal information.”

By this time, we made it up the slopped embankment to an opening to the interior. While we had walked and I listened, I took in the scene around me. The material we walked on was white and soft. There were no seams or breaks in the surface. Pineapple, banana and other fruit trees grew in single file’s dozens of feet from the waters edge.
We entered an enormous hall that ran out of sight in the curved part of the HOME.

“I would really like to know more of my family.” she said, bringing us to a stop in front of a large ten feet high and twelve long curved screen. “My mother and father raised me on the oceans, and we never did any visit family but for once, on my mother’s side. I met my great-grandmother, Abby, when I was about five. I think we stayed with her for several days.”

The conversation bounced back and forth from changes of the twenty century to our family. She explained that due to the collapse of the Internet and financial institutions, governments went down or declared Marshall law. The United states was one that declared. With Marshall, law came the militia breaking out small wars throughout the states. Between the fighting, flooding and devastating storms, families were separated.

Even through all the hardships many cities and communities made it. While factories went down those that held the 3d printers could provide many needed resources. Buy the time all things were falling apart, 3d printers had advanced to the stage of building homes, structures and also caused a further economic collapse due to being self-sufficient. One major export of the printers was floating vessels.

Barges were the easiest of the vessels to print out, and size was never a problem. Like Lego’s, these barges could lock together, and soon small communities were being built upon the water. The printers built their own replacement parts along with any parts or repairs needed for the H.O.M.E’s. Once you added dirt and gardens, the H.O.M.E communities cut themselves off from the main lands.

As printers could build copies of themselves, many were established throughout the world until even most communities had them. If you could grow your own food, the printer provided everything else including weapons. Years later another advance was when printer technology began to print out food. It was not the best tasting or nutritious, but it kept you alive.

With most, all needs met, a person never had to work for anyone else to earn a living. Factories, banks and cities collapsed further. Money soon became obsolete. Once things began to settle down on land, many fed up with the governments also turned to the seas.

The screen we stood in front of came on. An image of the HOME shown from several hundred feet above and off to one side. As we exchanged information, me supplying family knowledge and her a HOME tour.

The H.O.M.Es were totally self-sufficient. The main body was doughnut shaped. The top side was flat where the gardens grew. On the outside, living quarters ran mostly around the structure. Below the living quarters, the surface gently slopped outward into the water creating a beach shoreline. Around the shoreline grew fruit trees. The white material that made up the HOME also captured energy. It collected this energy through solar and pressure. A wave, the wind, even a foot step against the surface produced energy, which was transferred to batteries. All windows throughout the HOME were transparent and solar collectors; the structure brought in far more energy than needed. Water was collected from rain and sea.

Even cities on land were being made of the same material which led to utilities company’s becoming obsolete. Oil and coal were no longer needed stopping most productions. The biggest problems now in Patricia’s time were storms. On land, the storms caused floods, drought and crop damage. Since printed homes were designed to handle most weather, they still did no good if the area you lived in became unlivable. The H.O.M.Es solved this problem. Massive engines moved the structures away from hurricanes and rough seas while also directing them in the path of rain that fed the corps and filled reservoirs.

This movement also kept them away from skirmishes on land and water. At the time, it was the habit for these ocean communities to run on silence. Satellites easily picked them up, but if you did not know which nationality, a H.O.M.E held, usually it was left alone. Patricia moved to this HOME when hers reached its population quota. Every home had a limit on its population and once met; volunteers were asked to relocate to new HOME. Patricia had moved to this HOME almost ten years ago where she met her husband, and they had a seven-year-old daughter.

Under the garden which was the interior top floor were most of the living quarters. On the inside ring across from the living quarters were the cafeterias. No one had kitchens in their homes. On the lower, level were shops and entertainment areas. These levels of the interiors were and wide and high. Light shafts all throughout the hall brought in streaming beams of light.

Trenches of soil ran along each wall and from those grew flower and fruit trees up to thirty feet. On each side of the living quarter’s doors, occupants grew plants and bushes of their choice. The whole inside on each level was an arboretum. The next level down held manufacturing from parts, boats and food production. Although I never got a chance to visit the area, An outer area next to manufacturing was transparent. One could walk or sit and take in the ocean from many feet under.

The screen we stood in front of was so clear that it gave me the sensation I was actually floating through each part of the HOME. Outside in the center of the ring, held the HOMES reservoir and water park. Swimming, snorkeling, water rides, skiing and so on. The three main columns that rose from the inner edge and connected to the large dome above, were terraced living quarters. These quarters were often taken by patrons once a new H.O.M.E. Patricia’s husband and daughter lived in one of the columns.

Quarters in the ring were usually taken by new comers later and/ or children who had become adults and moved out. All living quarters held a balcony. On these balconies were small gardens that the occupants grew. The gardens could be anything from extra foods that families wanted for themselves or foods that were not grown in the community gardens. These foods were then used for bartering.

The dome on the H.O.M.E. had two purposes. The top area was set up as a park and forest which included animals such as deer, raccoons, squirrels and other creatures that were community safe. The underside of the dome held an amphitheater large enough for the entire population.

During the tour of the HOME, she also described how she had come about finding me. The so-called Internet had not completely died but only carried information. Because of the straggle hold it had on the world it was now known as the “net.” To stop the damage of identity thief it became illegal to place any personal information on the net. Even information on deceased people was forbidden due to leading to family members.

While the net began to crash in the first quarter of the 21st century, countless information was lost. The only information Patricia had on her family had been a great-grandmother named Abby, and her great-great-great grandfather named William. There was no longer a web and Patricia had to locate each company or Historical society that had information from the early 21st century.

She searched personal dreams, which brought up billions of hits. From there she searched the dreams with an author named William, this reduced her findings down to millions. There she hunted for any that had the name Abby and Patricia; the total was still near a million. She spent months in pursuit hitting dead ends or new searches. Then one day a thought came to her.

Her great grandmother Abby had mentioned the dream her grandfather had had. If he had placed it on the net for all to see, perhaps he would have given it an easy title. Patricia went as far as to believe that if William had indeed visited her in the future she could give him the title. Patricia typed in, “My visit with Patricia.” Only one came up. From there she found hundreds thousands of my dreams and a few sites I had were on file.

Due to personal information laws the only way, she had to find out more on me, and our family was if she had the personal passwords to those sites. At that point, I gave Patricia the code on how all my passwords were set up. I also informed her that she would find a genealogy list of our family that went back hundreds of years.

I stepped up to Patricia and gave her a long deep hug. She hugged me back, but I could still see may have been a bit confused.

“What was that for?” she asked.

“I don’t know when one of us may be waking up and I didn’t want to depart without hugging you.”
She leaned into me again and gave me another hug.

“When you get back could you tell my great grandmother hello for me?” she requested.
“I will but she’s only eight, she might not understand.”

“You can wait until she’s older.” Patricia said.

“No, I’m going to tell her as soon as I get back. Besides, I have to write about all this so you can find me.”

“People may think you’re a bit crazy.” she said smiling.

“From this dream? Obviously, you haven’t read many of my dreams.” I told her.
My eyes batted open as music from my alarm woke me.

PinPointing A.R.T.

As I begin to write this out, the date is Thursday, April 3, 2014. The date of the following out of body experience is 1994. As in all of my out of body experiences, they live alongside the everyday experiences of my life. Back then I was sharing my dreams with whomever might be interested. As far as my out of body experiences, they were rarely shared but for my wife and kids. When I would add them to my journal, the descriptions were brief because I already had the details and events in my memory.

Now I am sharing with the world so the time has come to write it all out. Like any memory I have, the events, here are still fresh in my mind. Although the discussions in the following OBE are not word-for-word, they are very close. The decision to put this OBE out, there is due in part to a few others I want to post but would not make any sense without this one going out first.

1994; OBE

My alarm went off awakening me from my night’s sleep. I reached around the head of the bed and shut it off. I am usually awake a couple of hours before sunrise but this morning the sun was already beaming through the curtained window. Even stranger, I would never set my alarm for after sunrise. I opened my eyes and took a look around the room. I was taken back because it was not my room.

I was in a twin bed that sat in a small room perhaps 12 x 14. A single window let in the morning sun on the opposite wall. On the wall to the left of the head of the bed was a door. The wall running at a right angle from the door had an open closet full of mens’ clothes. A dresser stood just to the right of the closet door. I threw back the sheets and sat up. I briefly wondered how I had gotten here but more importantly, where was I?

I looked down and saw I had on a pair of boxers. I knew right then I was having an out of body experience because I don’t wear boxers. I walked over to the closet and pulled out a pair of jeans, a shirt and some socks out of the dresser. I found a pair of shoes next to the bed. After I dressed I left the bedroom. The door opened into a short hallway. To the left was another bedroom at the end and two doors along the same wall as mine. To the right, the hall opened to a larger room with wide windows.

I stopped at the end of the hall to the right. It opened into a small well furnished and decorated living room. To the right of the living room was a table for four. At the table sat my then ten-year-old son Jonathan. Although I was well in his sight, he did not turn to look at me but stared straight ahead. I walked over to the table which brought into view a small kitchen. My birth mother was cleaning up some dishes that were in the sink. I turned back to my son who I now stood in front of, but he took no notice of me.

“Would you like some breakfast?” my mother asked looking over at me.

“No thank you,” I responded, and she went back to cleaning.

(While in an OBE I always try to act natural, it gives me less time explaining myself and more for exploring.)

I looked back at my son. His eyes were a bright copper color and unblinking. I bent down to look into his face, still he took no notice of me. I caught a movement in his pupils and leaned over closer to him until I was within a foot of his eyes. The lenses of his eyes looked to be made of glass and behind them were tiny moving parts like the inside of a watch.

“I just fed him,” my mother said, causing me to jerk back upright. Her voice startled me.

I looked at her, then back to my son.

“What’s wrong with his eyes?” I asked

“Nothing, everything is working fine.” she said.

“Working? They’re not real?” I thought about his emotionless face and still form. “Is he an android?” I asked looking from her to him.

“What?” My mother looked at me as if I were crazy then she responded, “You’re not Philip.”

I stood there looking at her, not quite sure how to respond. As I stood motionless she added, “You’re one of those counterparts.”

“You’re aware of who I am?” I asked her.

“I am aware of who you’re not. You need to get to the college,” she said.

“What college?” I asked.

“The one down there,” she pointed out the rear of what I believed was an apartment. To the left of the kitchen were a set of sliding glassing doors. I looked back at her.

“Why do I need to go there? And what kind of college is it?”” I asked.

“I’m not sure why. I don’t understand most of it. However, Philip always said, if this happened, convince his counterpart to get over to the center building of the college. That’s the main building for the College of Art.” she finished.

I looked out the sliding glass door she pointed to. Outside ran a sidewalk between what looked from here to be apartment buildings or condos. She walked over to the door and slid one side open.

“Why a college of art?” I asked.

She had a nervous but stern look on her face as if I were someone who had just broken into her home, I then realized I kind of had. I was a stranger not only in her home but her son’s body. I decided to take her advice.

“You need to go,” she said.

I began to move a couple of steps toward the door and stopped. I looked back at Jonathan.

“What’s going on with my son and his eyes?” I asked.

“He’s not your son, he’s Philip’s. He was in an accident which caused brain injuries. It’s in the healing center.”

“His brain has been removed?” I asked in shock.

“Well it’s kind of hard to care for an organ when it’s inside the body. You need to leave or I will have to call campus security.”

She held the door in her right hand while showing me the exit with her left. I looked between her and my son and thought it best to take her advice so, I walked out and took a left onto the sidewalk.

The sky was a cloudless unblemished blue as I walked between apartments and well trimmed lawns. The buildings were made of brick and seemed to be trimmed out in stone or perhaps granite. The design was beautiful. After a while, the apartments ended and opened up to three large buildings some 300 yards away. The school had the same design and trim work as the apartments.

Two large twin buildings set on each side of what I took as the central building. The building in the middle resembled a state capital with the columns and dome. This I guessed would be where I needed to check in. The sidewalk running from the apartments continued up the left side of the campus and made its way in front of all three buildings. Once it came to the end of the far building it split in two, one following the building around back and the other somewhere off on the other side of the apartment buildings.

The center of the three buildings was a small park. A few trees, a large pond and lots of people strolling around, sitting or just napping under the sun. Just as I came up on the first building on my left I heard my counterpart’s name being called out.

“Philip?” It came as a question from a female voice. I turned looking in the direction of the park. I caught sight of a young woman approaching and looking in my direction. She was slim about five-five with light brown hair that fell just past her shoulders. She wore a dark-blue blouse along with jeans and tennis shoes.

She stepped up to me.

“I thought you had the day off?” she asked. I was not sure how to respond so I just said,

“I have something to take care of in here.” I said waving up at the main building. I turned to walk away in hopes no questions would be asked. She gripped my arm. I stopped.

“In there?” she asked. “Are you Philip or a counterpart?”

I was silent for only a couple of seconds, but it had been enough that she knew.

“You’re not Philip,” she stated.

“No. My name is William. My mother or Philips mother,” I corrected myself, “said I needed to come here.”

“She told you? You didn’t know that for yourself?” the woman asked.

“How would I know that?”

“You’ve never been here.” It was a statement more than a question, but I answered.

“Of course not. As you know, I’m his counterpart.”

She wrapped her left arm into my right.

“Come on. I’ll explain, time is of the essence. Do you understand what’s happening to you? Why you’re here?” she asked as she guided me to the next building over.

“I know I’m in an out of body experience. I’m just taken back that others are aware of it also. Philip’s mother was adamant that I come here,” I said, pointing to the middle building, “I only came because I knew she was uncomfortable with me in her home, and I’m more curious as to why I need to come to a museum.” I could see her working on what I had said.

“A museum?” she wondered.

“Yes, she told me to get to the art building.”

“What was your reason for being here?” she asked.

“I’m having an out of body experience.”

“Out-of-body-experience.” She sounded each word out separately. “I like that, out of body experience,” she repeated. “Here we call it ART; Alternate Reality Traveling. It’s rare we get anyone from a new reality, especially here on campus. Philip is one of our top travelers and pinpoint readers. That’s the ART welcome center.” She pointed to the center building. “It’s where ambassadors from other realities check in.”

“Check in?” I asked.

“Yes but we need to get you over to a mapping room.” Her arm still in mine she moved to a quicker pace toward the far building.

“What is the mapping room?” I asked.

“There.” She pointed to the furthest building. “someone at the ART building would have escorted you there. A pinpoint reader would then help to identify which reality you come from in hopes of establishing communications with your reality.”

“You can map where other realities are?” I asked.

“Sure, doesn’t your reality include training and locating in ART or out of body experience?” The term seemed to flow across her speech.

“Not really. There are some who teach it but for the majority it’s not taken seriously.” I explained.

“We come across a lot of realities that don’t place a high priority on it but not many that don’t take it seriously. So far, we haven’t found any that are as committed as us. It’s a shame because so many realities could benefit from it.”

“How?” I asked, “you can’t bring anything back with you.”

“That’s another one so many fail on. We bring back the most priceless commodity of all, knowledge. Sixty to seventy percent of our technology comes from the study of more advanced realities than ours.”

“Back at the apartment of my counterpart, his son was part machine. Is that part of the technology? My mother said his brain was in the healing center.”

“That’s right. Philip’s son was in a car accident with severe brain damage. We have the ability to remove the brain and other organs until they can be repaired. It’s much easier that way also. The patient doesn’t have to stay in the hospital or continually be cut open to get to the organ. While they’re outside the body, mechanisms are put in place. In his son’s case, the brain has been replaced with a network that will keep the body mobile and fit until the brain is well enough to be put back.”

“If there was that much damage will he be the same?” I asked, concerned. “I’m sure you have the capability to return all his motor skills but what about memories. Will he be the same person as before?”

“I guess you don’t have neuron recorders in your reality?”

“I’m not sure what you’re taking about?”

“We have a band placed around our heads while we sleep. It records all of that day’s memories and any dreams or A.R.T.’s, we have during the night.”

“Like the one I woke up with,” I mentioned.

“Yes. The recorder saves that day’s memories along with all other previous memories. At least once a week it replays those recording back to our brain, which enhances our recall. He’ll be fine.”

“And no, we don’t have anything like your recorders. We’re no where this advanced. I am curious about some things. Where is Philip right now if I am here in his body? Is he back in mine?” I asked.

“Probably not. He is in an ART himself. The void he left in his mind allowed you access. It’s a rare and nice coincidence, counterparts in an ART at the same time.”

“That’s another thing. I have traveled to a lot of places. Most wouldn’t have a counterpart of me there, yet I’m there in my real form.”

“We’re all pure energy. Your flesh back in your own reality keeps that energy bottled up as a vessel. In an ART state, you materialize your form. Although its energy is not physical, that’s why we don’t have to worry about being injured or death. If you’re asking these questions, my guess is your culture doesn’t place a lot of growth in achieving higher realms. Obviously, some do but not the majority.”

By this time, we made it up to the steps of the mapping building.

The building’s architecture inside was completely different from its outside. Where the exterior had been three stories of brick, mortar and granite, the interior was glass, Plexiglas and tile. The main hall was perhaps a hundred feet wide and separated in the middle by six escalators that ran to each floor. The escalators were parted by ten to twelve feet, so they never blocked the full view of the building behind them. The walls they ran between were thick glass or some see though material so, once again the view was hardly blocked. All the walls but a few throughout the interior also were see through. I could even see through walls that from the outside had been bricked.

“How can we see through the walls when their solid from the outside?” I asked.

“The outside structure isn’t really there. The entire building is rectangular and made up of transparent polymer. What you see on the outside is a 3D projection on the surface. We can also do the same for any of the interior walls like the ceiling.” she pointed up to the transparent roof. “Turn everything off and all you would see it a six-story clear glass building.” she explained.

“But I counted three stories” I looked at her, “even here I see only three.”

“Floors four, five and six are dedicated as meditation areas of travel. Outside they project the sky around them. Above us, the outside sky is shone just as it is.”

I was amazed at what I saw. The ceiling looked to be only a large window into the blue sky with the sun shining down on us.

“All the walls are the same.” she pointed to the clear walls the escalators ran up and down on, “those also can project images placed on them.”

We took one of the escalators up to the second floor. Just off to the right was a large room with several people standing with their backs to us. Their focus was through a clear wall into another room. A door slid back, and we stepped inside with the others. In the adjourning room was a man bent over a table perhaps six feet by six feet.

“This is one of our map rooms.” she said nodding to the other room.

The table top was thin and its main color was as dark blue. Hundreds or maybe thousands of small silver circles covered the top, many lapping over one another. Where the circles intersected each other, the crossed sections glowed gold. The entire thing was very beautiful. Looking closer at the detail, the circles glowed a in many tones of the dark blue while others held a glossy black.

They were all focusing on a small gadget on the table the man had. It seemed to be some kind of compass made of stainless steel. It had several rotating arms mounted on thin rings. All the arms centered and rotated around a small gold disk about the size of a shirt’s button. The top-most arm was the longest and started at the disk. The disk and it swiveled together. It reached out like a tiny sword about six inches and at the point held a minute clear lens. Below this arm, were seven others at about three inches in length and below them seven pairs an inch shorter. I noticed the man manipulating the device had an emblem on his dark-blue shirt on the left of his chest. The emblem was the device.

“What is all this?” I asked the woman.

“This is a map of the known realities. The instrument there is the Pinpoint which locates and maps the realities. The circles are other realities. The pinpoint locates and map’s realities we have visited. The darker the blue the more established communication we have with them. If you see two crossing over there will be these two bright spots where they meet. Inside the eye shape, they create is the ethereal plane. We can’t actually visit these realities by ART, but we can get pretty good idea of their culture by the energy patterns. We tend to stay away from these realities only because they are less advanced.”

“How can anyone track dreams and out of body experiences?”

“Easy, energy patterns. Doesn’t your world do that?” she asked.

“No, for the most part, the majority believes OBEs are just realistic dreams,” I said.

“We run across some like that. It’s what we call low energy realms. Instead of building a higher awareness level, they are usually found supporting material gain instead. That’s what the black areas are.

“Yea, that sounds like mine. So you just stay away from those?”

“It’s not that we stay away from them but because the energy fields are much lower it repels the higher one. There are very few ARTs that can or have visited those realities. Most don’t last very long,” she said.

“You mean the visits?”

“No, their world.” She turned her attention to the man in the room and knocked on the wall. The man looked up in shock as if he would never have expected to be disturbed. He then saw the woman who had knocked and gave her a look as if she were out of her mind. She pointed to me.

“New arrival,” she said loudly mouthing the words so her lips could be read also. The man stared at her. shrugging his shoulders.

“First timer!” She got louder mouthing the words plainly.

The man’s eyes went wide as he looked at me then back to the woman. She was shaking her head. The man stood upright and rushed to the wall which parted allowing us access. The woman stepped through the opening pulling me in with her. The wall closed behind us.

“His name is William.” She said introducing me, “his reality may be a low-energy dimension. He’s been here for sometime so I’m not sure, how long he has.”

The man still had not said a word until he reached over to the pinpoint and held it in front of me.

“Place your finger on the collector,” he said.

“I’m not sure what you mean.” I said.

“Here.” He pointed to the small gold disk in the center. “It will read your energy field and help us to find where and if you’re on the map.”

I hesitated, not sure if I wanted to participate.

“You won’t feel anything, but it will place your reality on the map,” the woman said.

I reached out and laid my middle right hand finger on the disk. I had no more placed it there when the man pulled it away and sat the pinpoint back on the table.

“The pinpoint can read energy fields immediately,” the woman informed me. “The first place he sits it back on is our reality and begins from there.”

“So it pinpoints the reality, which gives it the name,” I mentioned.

“Yes.” she said, “but, it’s also an acronym. Position indicator pinpointing infinite trajectories.”

My attention went back to the man and the map. The yellow jewel embedded in the middle suddenly seem to glow a bit brighter on one side. The man swung the top-most arm in the direction of the brightness. The woman leaned into my right ear.

“The collector has tiny chambers that distribute your energy pattern. The rings making up the realities are recorded energy patterns also. The pinpoint is on the map starting in this reality. Your energy pattern flows to the side of the collector which picks up the direction of similar patterns. The top arm is then turned to that direction. The sensors below help to focus on those patterns, while the bottom sensor’s repel others that would not match.”

The man turned the top set of the sensors slowly in the same area. The brighter spot on the disk faded, and he stopped the turn. He then began turning another sensor. Once the area illuminated again he stopped.

It took some time, but I realized he manipulated the middle sensor arms when the jewel was lit. He then adjusted the bottom sensors until it went out. When he seemed please with the arrangement, he marked the area by where the lens of the top arm sat over. The spot on the map lit up, same size and shape as the lens. The man then pushed the pinpoint’s center to the spot and started over again.

I stood watching intently waiting for my reality to, hopefully be found. A few minutes more went by when things blurred and went dark. I looked around to see I was back in bed, in my reality.

Current Lucidity

If you are carried away by a tidal wave, then it means you are ready to make a brand new start in a new place.” Dreammoods.com

Monday, March 11, 1996; (Lucid dreaming)

My wife and I, along with two of our sons and their half-brother, were playing along the seawall in our back yard. From hours of playing we became tired and sat on the neighbor’s seawall next door. We watched waves splashing against the wall. After some time, we noticed that the waves began to grow larger.

I thought it might be best to get to the house as the waves were cresting the top of the wall. We all stood and were suddenly shocked by the sight of a ten-foot wave that was coming at us. I yelled for everyone to run to the house. My wife and sons started to run, but their half-brother stayed on the wall. I stepped over, grabbing him up into my arms. I ran through the neighbor’s yard alongside his house. I glanced back to see the wave only a couple of yards behind us.

As I came up on the left side of his house, I looked to my backyard. From the left of my yard crashing down toward me, came a wave twenty feet in height. The two waves clashed together, swooping me and the boy up, then began receding back into the river carrying the two of us. Just as we were nearing the seawall, I grabbed the bush next to it and held on. The water rushed over us fast and hard. Although my grip on the boy was secure, I felt my hand slipping on the bush. Thoughts of where my wife and sons were filled my head, but I seemed strangely calm.

I should have been racked in fear but then lucidity came to me, and I knew I was dreaming. My hand held tight to the bush now, and I felt the pressure of the water rushing by. In all my water dreams, the more treacherous the water, the more fun I have. Even in non-lucid dreams, waves many stories high never cause any harm. I sucked the water in my lungs knowing I had nothing to fear. My body rocked with the currents, and I soon awoke.

Silhouettes

This was not the dream I had planned on posting this evening. The one I got ready held only the editorial. My file said there was 175 kb’s in the document but only about 12 were showing. I was very frustrated not knowing how I could have deleted the text of the dream, not to mention blowing another scheduled post. I could not even find the backup I always make.

Oddly, I came across the following dream I had sworn was posted some time ago. I looked back through all my older posts but never found it. Perhaps fate had a hand or it was just a blunder after all.

Wednesday, March 14, 2012; (Unconscious dreaming)

I was walking around inside my home between midnight and well before sunrise. The lights were all out, which is normal during my waking hours. I was alone and made my way down to the first floor. Usually our German Shepard Obie seeks me out when I am up. So far, I had not seen him on any floor, and he was not in his usual sleeping spot on the first floor.


I looked out one of our den windows overlooking the James River, to Norfolk. I noticed two people walking through the yard towards the back door. They were not sneaking, just looking like they had business here, and I could hear chit-chat from them. I could not tell anything about them, including their sex; all I could make out were their silhouettes. It looked as if they had come from the seawall, and as they got near the back of the house, they turned toward the gate beside the house.


They passed by the window, neither looking my way. Once they got to the gate, I sprinted to the kitchen window where I was going to get their attention as they passed. I waited only a few seconds because I knew they should already have passed by. I saw no one come and thought that they must have turned around or stopped at the gate. I crept back into the other room and looked out. They were nowhere to be found. I walked back and forth between the back-door and kitchen a few times. I came to a stop back in the den and stood there trying to listen for any outside noise. I was there only a short time when I awoke.

Obstinate

Tuesday, February 24, 2009; (Unconscious dream)

In this dream, I was working night shift pile driving on the foundation of a large building. After the last pile, I shut the crane and other equipment down. The morning sky was just starting to gray as I got into my truck to go home. While driving across the job, a man jumped in front of my truck, yelling stop. I hit the brakes, coming to a halt just before him. He slapped both hands on the truck’s hood and began laughing.

I blew the horn, but he stood there looking at me, still laughing. I backed the truck up and then went to drive around him, but he stepped in front of the truck again. Each time I turned to go around him, he blocks my truck. I threw the truck into park and stepped. Just so he would think I was someone of importance, I lied to him. I told him I was the Project Manager and wanted to know who he was, so I could put him off the job. He took off running.

I followed him in my truck to find out where he was going and what he was up to. The job site had some high sand piles along its perimeter. The man ran between two of the sand piles where there was a hole he jumped into. I came to a stop and got out of the truck. I walked over to the hole and was surprised at its size. The hole was no bigger than a foot wide. I wondered just how he could have gotten down in there. I was so mad I began kicking the side of one of the sand piles letting sand fill the hole. The man started choking and screaming.

I watched as he easily made his way out of the tiny hole. Once he was out, he faced me. I asked him what was his problem. He complained that I could have buried him alive. I told him that jumping out in front of moving vehicles was just as dangerous, and I wanted him off the job. He turned and ran off behind one of the sand piles. I left him alone and got back in my truck going home.