3

To dream of clouds represents situations in your life which overshadow everything else. Noticeable or powerful distractions, delays, or disappointments. The number 3 in a dream may reflect chaos. There may be unpredictability in your life.-dreambible.com

Tuesday, April 28, 2015;Unconscious dreaming
I arrived at work sometime later in the day than my usual time. The sun shone out of a cloudless blue sky as I drove around the parking area several times but could not find an empty space. I called my boss to inform him of the problem I had while I continued to hunt for a spot. He told me I could drive over to one of our new offices at the south end of the yard and park in the driveway there. He stated that no one would be there today, and I did not have to worry about being towed.

I drove over to the building and found a small driveway in front and parked. I left my backpack in the trunk; it had been after lunch, and I would be coming back and leaving in just over three hours. Walking from the car to the office to check in took about five minutes. Within four minutes of my walk, something caught my eye to the northeast. I spotted a large cumulus cloud rising quickly in the distance. I could only see the top as one of the buildings was in the way; because of the speed at which it rose, my curiosity made me jog to get around the building.

In the clearing, I saw it was a mushroom cloud many miles away. What came to mind was a nuclear explosion, but I had not seen a flash or heard anything; however, the entire cloud was pure white. As I stood watching the cloud, people came to a stop and stared as well. Moments later, another white mushroom cloud rose a little farther north than the first one. Again, there had not been any flash or sound wave coming from either cloud, but I did begin to worry.

These clouds were not normal, and an eerie feeling began to overwhelm me. I turned and rushed back to my car. While I ran through the yard others began to panic also, even more when they saw me in a heated run. I made it to the building and turning the corner; I saw my car was gone. I rushed over to a guard shack a few yards down and asked if they had seen it. The guard informed me he had it towed because I had not had the decal for that area. I explained I had been given permission from my boss; he knew nothing about it.

I had to have my car, so there was no need to argue. I asked about its location and found to my relief, it did not go to a towing yard but a fenced in lot at the north end of the shipyard. Before I left, the guard informed me I would not be able to retrieve the car, all gates were in lock down. I could leave the yard but without the car. I left and rushed to the north end. I could do without the car if I had to, but I needed my backpack in order to make it home.

Along the way, I glanced over to where the last cloud had erupted to see yet another one blossoming up north of the second and just as white as the others. Guards were out in the streets directing workers away from the piers and to the mustering [emergency] areas. As I passed one of the guards, he shouted that I could go no farther in the yard and had to either report to my area or exit the facilities. I turned toward one of the buildings as if I were going inside. Instead, I ran around the back side and continued to the towing area; the three clouds continuing their rise into the heavens. Making it to the fence, I located the entrance. The gate had been chained locked, but I knew I could slip through.

Close by, another guard was directing people from the work areas; I ran over to him and explained I needed my car. He said that was impossible today especially with the emergency. I then asked if I could go inside to retrieve some things out of the trunk, I was denied. He ordered me to follow the crowd to our stations; I turned and rushed away. I went back to the chain locked fence, looking behind me to see the guard watching. I had no choice; I needed my supplies. I dashed under the chain and inside the lot, hearing the guard shout out after me. Once in, I ducked down hurrying between the cars hoping to stay out of sight and make it to the car before caught.

Every so often, I would have to stand and take a quick look for the car. I spotted the hoods of several white cars in different areas and headed to the closest one. I could hear the guard shouting for backup. I made it to the first white car— it was not mine. I slipped my head up again and found the next nearest one; that too was not mine. Third time was a charm and, staying on my knees, I popped the trunk. Reaching in, I pulled out my bag and tossed it on my back. I gathered some other things I may need and closed the trunk.

I could not risk being caught. I did not believe he would arrest me, but my bag may be confiscated. I made my way back toward the gate noticing a guard posted there, my only exit. I moved back among the cars and began making my way along the fence line in hopes of finding a way over or under. Somewhere along my search, I awoke.

The Last Laugh

It’s been a long couple of weeks. Due to several crane operators being out, several of us have had to take up the slack. Oh, and having some “$#@%” driver broadside my car and total it, I haven’t had a chance to work on anything new, so I’ve dipped into the dream journal archive.

Wednesday, June 6, 2011

In the dream, it was Friday, and I had gone to a company that I had worked for in the early 2000s: a fabrication shop and crane rental. With me was a friend, and we had heard the company was hiring. We had met the superintendent whom I had worked under and had not cared much for. My friend said we were applying for work, the superintendent said, “Sure, come back Monday morning to go to work.”

That following Monday the friend and I showed up. A co-worker greeted us and welcomed me back. He said that he and a crew were getting equipment together to head out to NASA on a job. I helped load up some trucks and there was a 1,000-gallon diesel tank on a trailer that had to be pulled along We did not have any trucks left in the yard, so I hooked the trailer up to my truck and pulled it in line behind the other equipment.

I began to wonder if I would be compensated in fuel for the use of my truck. I unhooked the trailer and pulled back into the parking lot. I walked into the shop in search of the superintendent to ask if they wanted me to use my truck. I approached the superintendent who saw me coming and placed his hands on his hips. When I stepped up to him, he spoke, “What are doing here?” he laughed sarcastically, “You think you work here or something?”

I thought about it and it dawned on me, when he had said to come back Monday, it may not have been directed at me but just my friend. It then became clear that I had forgotten I was working for my current company and did not need or want the job with this man but did want to brag about my current company.

“No,” I replied laughing back at him, “I was just dropping off my friend and was leaving when I remembered to tell him something.” I turned and walked out. As I passed the front of the office, I saw that the entire front was all glass. Inside was a small department where the owner of the company was selling boat motors. I thought they must not be doing so great if they had to sell boat motors to help their profits.

Title 1

FYI, the title has nothing to do with the dream. I found out that another of my co-workers is a fan of my blog. On one conversation, he mentioned he was bummed to find that I was discontinuing the blogs app. Just recently while standing in the office one afternoon, I was telling him about my next post.

“I’m nearly ready to post my next dream, but I’m having a problem coming up with a title,” I mentioned to him.

“Why not just call it, Title 1, the next one can be, Title 2 then Title 3. I can assure you, you will never run out of titles.”

So, since he is a fan and bummed to see my app go, I’d like to give him this one.

Regarding the dream, to some of you that may be new to my blog, I’m an early bird and usually arrive to work about an hour before the scheduled time. This allows me to beat the traffic, get a good parking place and catch a nap. I can have some great dreams and OBEs while napping. Just to make sure I don’t oversleep, I keep my phone next to me and my nap alarm set.

Tuesday, February 24, 2015

My wife and I pulled into a restaurant for dinner. It was one that we had never been to but wanted to check out; I don’t recall the name or any signs. We went inside and were seated in a lobby while we waited on our names to be called. There was a well-dressed Caucasian woman perhaps in her sixties, making her way down a set of stairs to our left. She had auburn hair, combed up. Large diamond earrings dangled down, and although it was nicely done, her makeup was on the heavy side.

We were also told by a woman who was the manager that we would have to remove our shoes before entering the dining area. My wife and I pulled off our shoes and stuck them under the chairs we were sitting in; as we waited, I looked around from my seat.

The place was well lit and large. Our chairs lined the rail that separated the dining area from the lobby. In front of us was the front of the restaurant, to the left was a dark carpeted set of stairs perhaps 8 feet wide, which may have had about 10 steps in all. The carpet had colorful shapes and patterns throughout. I can’t recall the colors but sure the border was yellow. The stairs were for customers leaving the dining room and to the right was the entrance that ramped up to the dining area.

There was another waiting room further to the right. This one seemed designed to keep children entertained as some arcade games were set up. Along the right of the wall was perhaps the smallest hydraulic crane I had ever seen. I got from my seat to go check it out when our names were called. We left the waiting area and were escorted to our table. I recall eating but not what we ate. After the meal, we got up and left by way of the stairs.

Outside, my feet became cold and wet; looking down, I realized I had left my shoes back in the restaurant. I opened the car door for my wife and told her I had forgotten something in the restaurant and would be right back. I did not want to tell her it was my shoes for fear of looking stupid. I went back in and over to our table. I looked around and under, but my shoes were nowhere to be seen. Then it hit me: we had taken them off in the waiting area, so I headed over there.

My path took me back around and down the stairs. Walking down I heard a tiny squeal. I looked to see a small child of about one and a half climbing the stairs on all fours and noticed I had stepped on her pinky finger. I snatched my foot up, and she continued to climb. At the top of the stars sat a woman I believed was her mother. I followed the child up and reported to the woman I had stepped on her child’s finger, but it did not seem to be broken or injured. The mother shrugged her shoulders and picked the child up in her arms.

I proceeded to the area where my wife and I had been sitting; there I found not only my shoes under our chairs but hers as well. By now, she should have been calling or have come back into the restaurant to find why I was taking so long. I was even more perplexed that she had not noticed her shoes missing but had gone outside in the cold barefoot as well. Once I got my shoes on and picked up hers, I stood and went to head out when I saw her coat on back of the chair.

“How is she not freezing out in the car?” I asked myself. I tossed the cost over my arm and made for the door. Out of the right corner of my eye, the small crane in the next waiting area caught my attention. Being a crane operator, I had to check it out. I walked over to the room and coming up to the crane; I saw that the manager was in the operator’s seat. I watched as she swung the hook back and forth and hosted the cable up and down. I then took note that the crane was plastic and nothing more than some child’s ride, but a very good one.

My mind went back to my wife in the car, and I rushed out. At the car, I opened the back door and tossed the shoes to her. I dropped her coat on the back seat and saw a baby’s baby blanket fall out. It must have been under my wifes coat and I took it by mistake.

“Where have you been?” my wife said harshly. I wanted to take the blanket back inside but wanted to leave even more, so I left the blanket in the seat and jumped in the driver’s seat. I backed out and proceeded through the parking lot. Just as I had started forward, a small four wheel drive truck came tearing around the bend. He circled around the back of the parking lot and came up behind me. I could see he wanted to get around me but there wasn’t enough room due to the parked cars on both sides of us.

About that time I heard a beeping noise.

“What’s that?” asked my wife.

“It’s the alarm on my phone,” I answered, “but that’s my nap alarm when I’m in the parking lot at work in the morning. It shouldn’t be going off now.”

“Well, maybe you’re dreaming,” my wife said.

“I’m not dreaming,” I told her. I continued through the parking lot as I reached in the back seat and grabbed my phone. As I held the phone, my early morning chime continued to play.

“How do you know you’re not dreaming?” my wife asked.

“Could I be in a dream?” I thought to myself and how had the phone gotten into the back seat; I’ve never done that. I tried to recall where I had been before the restaurant and drew a blank. I didn’t even know what city I was in. There was no recollection of anything before we pulled into the parking lot. I came to a stop at the lot’s exit, not knowing which way to turn. The phone continued to play, and things became somewhat out of focus.

“I am dreaming,” I said and awoke in my car.

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.

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.

Pipeline

There are things that irritate me; one of them is my memory of some dreams. For example, the following dream I had was very detailed and intense. I know there was far more but I can only recall the last couple of minutes. I’m even unable to recall what type of dream, so I will leave that blank.

Thursday, December 4, 2014; defining my dreams
What I did recall is a black-and-white dream, very rare for me because I always dream in color. Twin girls, brunettes, in the mid thirties maybe. Both identical with their thick frizzy hair, height of about 5′ 6” and around 140 pounds. The three of us were standing in a kitchen while clearing the table just after a meal. We were discussing all the planets and systems we had been visiting recently, which actually had occurred in the dream, one of many parts I do not recall. One of the girls said she was looking forward to visiting Jupiter.

“The pipeline will be opening anytime; we can go then,” said the other. “Will you be going with us?” she asked me.

“No,” I replied, “I have to get ready for work.”

Just then an empty wall on one side of the kitchen became transparent and formed an open portal. On the other side, which seemed to be pretty close, was the planet Jupiter. It was so close, I could only discern the planet because of its red storm. The two women stepped inside the portal on a ledge 4 feet wide. Clasping hands together, their bodies stretched outwardly floating in weightlessness. They continued holding hands as they slowly rotated in a counter-clockwise direction while their bodies gently drifted out into space. No space suits or any other special gear, just tennis shoes, blouses and jeans. I watched until they were only specks, slowly falling down into the gas giant. Just before they were completely out of my vision, the wall replaced the portal and I awoke.

Modern Rocketry

Wednesday night at my house is pizza and comedy night. I bring home a large veggie, with extra tomato sauce from Papa Johns, and the wife and I chill out in front of the television. We watch the comedy line up; In the Middle, The Goldberg’s, Modern Family and Blackish.

So it isn’t surprising that sometimes when my consciousness is relaying a message that some of these characters would show up. Of the four shows, I would relate to Phil Dunphy on Modern Family. For those unaware of the character; (1)Phil Dunphy sees himself as the “cool dad.” He dotes on his wife and constantly tries to find ways to bond with his kids. He has a childlike attitude, very confident and always full of new ideas.

2014/12/10 Wednesday; Unconscious dreaming
It was night time, and I found myself outside with Phil Dunphy a.k.a actor Ty Burrell on Modern Family. He was building a small orange rocket about five feet in length and one foot in diameter. We were putting the three-stage rocket together in his driveway; once it had been completed he directed me to help set it in a frame.

The frame sat in the middle of the driveway, and to each side in the grass were binders and straps. As Phil pulled one of the straps over the front of the rocket, he asked me to do the same on the rear. I cranked down on the binder until the strap was good and tight. I noticed the ground was kind of soft and said something to Phil. He told me not to worry—he did this many times before.

Afterward, I followed him into the grass far left of the driveway. In his hand Phil held a small box with a single button in the middle. He pushed the button, and the rocket fired. The thrust was incredible to the point of the rocket began to bow in the middle. I saw the rear anchor on the far side begin to pull out of the ground. I pointed this out to Phil, who began to get a worried expression on his face.

The thrust became more powerful, and the rear anchor gave way. The front was still tied down, and it flipped over, releasing itself from the frame. The two of us could see right away the rocket was on a trajectory for us.

“IN COMING!” Phil screamed.

We dropped to the ground as the rocket flew over our heads missing us by inches. As the rocket passed we rolled to our backs and sat up. The rocket shot across a road and over a field. Grazing in the field was a large stag with its back toward us. The rocket, staying level with the ground, hit the stag directly in the anus. Without stopping or slowing, it launched the stag across the field and into the woods beyond until out of sight.

“My rocket, my rocket!” Phil yelled.

He leapt up and ran from his yard out into the field in hot pursuit. I followed behind until I was across the road then stopped before entering the field. I turned and walked back toward the house. Just as I got back into the yard, I heard a loud scream of panic. I turned looking in the area of woods Phil had gone. He was now running hard and fast back home, screaming all the while.

Just as he made it to the road, I noticed a lion, twice the size of a normal one, bursting from the woods coming toward us. I turned and began to run for the house in hopes of getting inside. Only yards from the door, Phil passed me slamming into my left shoulder. Although it did not slow him down, he caused me to be knocked to the ground. I scrambled to my feet hearing the breath of the ferocious beast upon me. I had just begun my run back when I was pounced on, awaking me.

If you are new or missed any of my posts, I mentioned before that I was planning on publishing an e-book based on my dreams. The dream here is about the problem I’m running into, mainly the layout of the e-book. The following breakdown of the dream is mostly copy & paste from; dreammoods.com, plus a little editing.

Having a dream that takes place at night represents some obstacles in achieving your goals. You are being faced with an issue that is not so clear cut.

An actor represents your pursuit for pleasure. Consider also who this actor is and what characteristics you associate with him.

The rocket indicates that your plans or ideas will soon be taking off in a big way. You are experiencing a higher level of awareness. All your hard work is paying off.

Orange denotes hope, friendliness, courtesy, generosity, liveliness, sociability, and an out-going nature.

To dream that you are tying something represents your network and connection to others.

Depending on the context of your dream, the stag could mean grace, agility, regeneration and growth.
Seeing only the tail of an animal in your dream signifies annoyances and complications in a situation where pleasure was expected.

A lion symbolizes great strength, courage, aggression and power. You will overcome your difficulties.

(1) Wikipedia, Phil Dunphy

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.

Drunken Jack

Wednesday, January 22, 2014

One discrepancy I see in my blog as a whole relates to purpose of expandurmind. I have always stated that this blog is about me, my dreams and their effects on my life, although this was only a part within the whole when I began. My idea then was to make it a combination of my dreams and science-fiction stories I had written. The second post was actually two dreams I had formed into one, about a year before I began the blog. The purpose was to get this published. I did send it out to two publishers, but neither was interested. They never said why.

Friday, June 18, 2010; 6:27 PM, I put it in expandurmind.com as the second post. What caught me by surprise was the response I received in the following weeks, not from my story but from the other dreams. At the time, the only ones to know about my blog were friends and co-workers. They all thought it had been a great idea. Their word of mouth along with mine caused an audience explosion, and the numbers steadily rose, as they still do. Subsequently, I knew where I wanted to take this.

Since then it is the only thing I have focused on, and it has worked out very well, thank you. For those of you who have been here from the beginning, you may see some changes in my older posts. Because of newer members who have joined, I want to tidy the place up a bit. The only real change going back is to make the posts easier to read, such as larger fonts and spaces between lines. One major change is throwing out the second post. I will keep a link to the original story so no one will think I am trying to pull a fast one.

The second part, “Expelling Air”, which is an actual lucid dream will stay on the initial date. The first part which I re-wrote as a science-fiction story will be taken out. To keep expandurmind.com consistent, here is the original out-of-body experience I encountered.

Painting by,
Margaret H. Vincent

Early to mid 1990’s; (OBE)

I stared at a door in front me. Looking behind me, was a sidewalk running along a busy city street. Since I was here, I decided to go in. It was a bar. The place was quiet with dim lighting and a jukebox. I saw two people over at the bar, a bartender and waitress. In the far, corner were two booths, one with an elderly man; his head slumped against the wall and an almost empty pitcher of beer in front of him. He seemed to be passed out so I took the booth across from him. The lone waitress came over and set a bottle of beer in front of me without having to ask. I was going to like the out-of-body experience.

“Is the old man O.K.?” I asked her, pointing at the man in the next booth whom I had not seen move at all since I sat down.

“Oh yeah,” she smiled, “that’s Drunken Jack. He drinks until he passes out then in about an hour or two he’ll wake up and go home. Don’t worry,” she said, “He won’t bite.” At that, she left me alone.

I found myself staring over at Drunken Jack in his booth, picking out things such as his glass or the napkin holder. I had been staring when suddenly I spotted bubble inches away from Jack’s face. It seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.

The object dropped to the table making a loud noise as it struck solidly, informing me it was not a bubble. At that moment, Drunken Jack popped out of his slumber. With a dazed and confused look in his face, he tried sitting up. After briefly looking around, he quickly grabbed the sides of the table in both his hands, causing, what I call a marble to roll around the table’s top. Frantic, he released one side of the table and scrambled to catch it, knocking over his pitcher, spilling what little beer was left into his lap. He had the marble clutched tightly holding his left hand while still holding the table with his right.

“Are you O.K.?” I asked.

Wavering back and forth in his seat, he tried to focus but found it difficult. He shook his head a few times. Taking his gaze from me to the surroundings of the bar, he seemed not to know where he was.

“What sort of vehicle is this? It moves in a strange way.” He said, looking at me. I gave him a moment to collect himself. I hoped even in his state of mind, a little sense would come back, and I would not have to be bothered with him. Still clutching the table and his marble, he asked, “Are we in a ground or space transport?”

“You’re the one traveling man, whether it’s ground or space only you would know that,” I answered. The old man looked rough and worn; life and time had not been good to him so, I left my booth and walked over to his. I pulled a handful of napkins from the dispenser. Throwing a few on the table to soak up his drink, I placed the rest in front of him.

“Here, you might want to throw some on your lap.” I turned to go wanting to see more than the inside of a bar while in the dimension.

“Please, stay,” he said, “This transports movements throw me off balance.”

“O.K.” I answered, thinking, I’ll sit here long enough to finish my drink than act as though I’m going for another and slip out the door.

I sat across from him as he once again studied his surroundings. The waitress had said earlier that he came here often, but right now he seemed to be unfamiliar with the place.

“You said, I was the only one traveling, so you’re aware of where I’m from?”

“Well,” I stated, “I’m not too sure where you’re from but any more drinks, and I can only guess where you’ll be headed.”

He slowly released his grip on the table and peered into the now empty pitcher, while eying the bottom, he took in several deep sniffs.

“I feel as though I’m in a state of constant shifting. Is this artificial gravity… perhaps it’s not working right?”

“Gravity’s just fine, maybe you should take a break for a while.” I reached over and took the pitcher from him before the last few drops ended up in my lap.  

“A break from what? I just got here” he said.

“From your drinking.” He seemed to become even more curious about the pitcher, eying it with great wonder. 

“Is my shifting caused by this drink?” 

“Yeah, and I’d say anymore, and you’ll be shifting all afternoon.” 

“Remarkable!” he reasoned with wide blood shot eyes, “A culture with a drink that allows dimensional transference?” He lifted the marble he had in his grasp in front of his face and shook his head. “And we thought we were advanced. What would it be worth to you for me to get the recipe for this, that is if you have any knowledge of the ingredients? A trade of knowledge perhaps.” Although he still fought to keep his balance, he babbled on as though he were sober.   

“You seem to be doing OK.” I said, “So I’ll just mosey on outta here.”

I got up to leave and he rushed from the booth, “Wait!” he yelled.

He lost his balance and before I could intervene, he fell to the floor, the marble rolling away from him. I saw that he was not hurt then reached out to pick up his marble, but he let out a scream, “No, don’t touch it!” Like a man crawling from a burning building, he slid across the floor and grasped it in both hands, then lay there clutching the thing. The waitress walked over,

“Jack, Rooney says you’re cut off and need to go home.” I took Rooney for the bartender leaning over the counter shaking his head.

“I don’t think he can go anywhere just yet,” I replied. “Don’t worry.” I reached down to help the old man up. He still held tightly to his marble, unfortunately most his other ones he had lost long ago. I helped him back into the booth then sat myself across from him. I downed what was left of my beer and ordered another before the waitress went back to flirt with Rooney.

“You would think,” he started impatiently, “that a civilization that can create a drinkable dimensional fluid could have its gravity generators run a little more smoothly.”

“Is that your way of saying thank you for picking your rear off the floor? Then you’re welcome,” I said.

“Thank you. I apologize but I promised my associates I would be brief and return right away.” He peered into his hands.

“You must understand it has taken years to develop another Dimension Harmonizing Locker Orb. The last mover lost his in some stupid game of chance, so he says.” He was still staring at his hands making sure it was really there.

I had no idea what he was talking about and figured he did not either or maybe he was just pulling my chain to cover his embarrassment for spilling his beer.

“Years?” I asked, “Those things are turned out by the millions every day.” His head popped up as if he had heard a gunshot.

“Impossible!” he said in defense, “The technology for locking in super strings can not be done over night.”

The waitress returned with my beer, then returned to her uninterested bartender.

“Whatever bud,” I said picking up the bottle. “You stick to your solids,” pointing the marble in his hands. “And we’ll stick to our fluids.” I turned up the bottle and downed a quarter of it.

“How long?” he asked.

“I’m sorry?”

“How long until the fluid takes effect.” He motioned his hands at the bottle.

“Not long enough.” I answered.

“A trade then. I can make it worth your while.”

I gave him a strange look. Since I first came over to play the good Samaritan, I had been playing babysitter.

“Of course,” I said replying to his question, “Why everyone here knows the formula, see here.” I picked up my bottle and held it up in front of him pointing to the label. “Ingredients.” He went to take the bottle with his free hand but I pulled it back. “You wanted to make it worth my while, I believe.”

“I could trade you information on other dimensions I have visited.”

So he was a traveler like myself. I am always interested in others who travel out-of-body, so I decided to stay. Even though he struggled to speak through his drunkenness, he seemed quite passionate in his effort to obtain his goal.

“I don’t think so,” I answered, “I already have so much information, more would only bore me. How about telling me what’s up with that marble of yours.” I really wanted to know where the marble had come from and why he held onto it so dearly.

“Marble?” he asked.

“The glass ball in your hand.”

He held the marble between his fingers up to the light. It was roughly an inch and a half in diameter, clear and flawless. I reached out to touch it and the old man snatched it away.

“Don’t touch it,” he snapped, “your energy pattern mixed with mine will break down the outside barrier causing it to free the dimensional energy waves.”

“Dimensional energy waves?” I asked. He released his grip on the table and made a half effort to sit up straight,

“You know, dimensional energy wave patterns.” he said.

“Sorry,” I replied, “I guess I’m not up on all that.

He took a glance at his surroundings, I could tell he was having a difficult time focusing his eyes on any one thing.

“But I’m sure your culture is familiar with atoms and super-strings?” he said, “You’re aware of the energy just one atom holds.”

“Sure, we’ve got weapons that use them.”

“Weapons!” This seemed to sober him up a bit, “Does your culture have a death wish? I hope for your sake there are very few.”

“Yea, we’ve got one or two I believe.”

“One is still too many but anyhow. You’re aware of the make-up of dimensions, right?”

“To be quite honest,” I told him, “I’m not up on the make-up but I seem to travel between them qiut well.”

“Ah.” he responded, “A novice.”

“Not really.”

“O.K., let me see if I can explain, look at the size of your form. Now think of the number of atoms that make you up, that’s a lot of energy there. A lot of energy in one place, and not just you but the surrounding others. The table here, the glass, the floor the walls, all have this energy, it has to be stored somewhere. That’s where dimensions come in, like a battery, there are different cells inside to spread out and store the energy. Different cells, same energy. Different dimensions, but all the same energy. Your energy pattern is not only here but in infinite other dimensions as well. Waves of this energy flow back and forth though these dimensions. This explains why atoms seem to disappear and reappear. When the energy waves flow though this dimension you see them, when it flows though others you don’t.”

For an old man who looked as if he were running on just two or three brain cells, Drunken Jack seemed to be making sense. You see, beyond our reality there is only one true universe, like a battery. Inside exist a possibly infinite number of cells we call dimensions. All the energy in each atom that makes you here, also makes you in many more of these dimensions.”

“You’re telling me that at this moment, a million or more other me’s are doing the same thing right now?”

“No,” he replied, “That’s not how it works. Look,” he said patiently, “Every particle that makes you up is shared energy with your counterparts. You share the same soul but each has his own spirit.”

Until now, I had been slumped over the table with my head resting in the palm of my hand propped up on my elbow. My head went up at his mention of the spirit and I had to interrupt him.

“Souls, spirits!” I exclaimed, “I thought we were talking about energy and physics, physical things.”

“The soul and spirit are physical things. They are just two of the many types of energy levels. One being inanimate energy, that which binds together to form the table, walls, rocks and the like. Then there’s the energy of the soul… it gives life. Then there is the energy of the spirit. It separates us, makes us individuals.”

“I think I understand but you said all of my counterparts, were not doing the same thing. If we are all the same energy then how could we be different?”

“Like the energy in the battery, it’s the same energy but can run more than just the music box, got it? You may be living a parallel life in a few others but in many more you could be a firefighter, a pilot, a Starship captain or you may even be dead.”

“Dead!”

“Yes, or perhaps you haven’t even been born yet. You could even be so alien in some, that your nothing more than a puddle of intelligent slime. You all share the same energy of the soul but each of you has the higher energy of the spirit. Making you all individuals.”

“So what does all this have to do with your marble?” I asked.

“First of all it’s not called a marble, it is a Dimension Harmonizing Locker Orb.”

“Marble, is a lot easier to remember.” I said, chuckling. He stared at me briefly, unamused.

“Dimensions coexist, energy waves separate them,” he held the marble or Dimension Harmonizing Locker Orb back up to the light above the table. “It takes years for us to collect bits of these waves called super-strings. We as solid bodies cannot travel from one dimension to the other but our individual consciousness can, due to the shared energy. This Dimension Harmonizing Locker Orb, is packed with an infinite amount of super-strings of each dimension. This allows the conscious mind to pass over to our counterparts.”

“If only the soul can travel between dimensions,” I asked, “then how is your Dimension Harmonizing Locker Orb here also?”

“Its waves are Harmonized to my consciousness. The orb stays back in my dimension unless, like now, my consciousness is fully in charge.”

“Why the big deal if I touch it?”

“Depends,” he said, “should you and I touch it together, the energy pattern becomes unbalanced and the dimensional waves break free. I awaken back in my body and wait years for another to be built for me. Should you or anyone else other than my counterpart touch it alone, the Dimension Harmonizing Locker Orb balances to your waves and stays with you. Now how about those ingredients.”

“Sure.” I said, “but hold it up to the light again.”

Jack eyed me with suspicion. I held up my hands then laid my hands palms down on the table. Drunken Jack held the Dimension Harmonizing Locker Orb in his palm under the light.

“Don’t worry my friend,” said Jack, “The day will come when your people too will have something similar.”

“Not anytime soon, I’m sure.” I said.

“My people have a saying, ‘If a man receives only one gift in his life, let it be patience’.”

“Yuh, mine also have a saying.” I replied.

“What is that?” asked drunken Jack.

“The hand is quicker than the eye.” At that moment two things took place.

Drunken Jack looked at me for clarification on what I had just said and in that same moment, my right hand jumped up, slapping the bottom of his. The Dimension Harmonizing Locker Orb, popped into the air just in time for my left hand to catch it. I became engulfed in deja-vu, in addition to experiencing memories of the past and a foreshadowing my future.

Then as quickly as it had come, the feeling drained away with a tingle throughout my body. What my mind played back seemed like hours but I realized that only a couple of seconds had passed. I looked back to Jack; his expression changed from shock to that of one who was slipping into drunkenness. In only a few seconds he was back to the man whom I had first seen when I had entered the bar. His head slumped back on the wall and he began a light snore.

“Looks like drunken Jack is out for the evening.” I looked up to see the waitress back at the table, “Would you like anything else?”

“No thank you,” I said, “I’ve got some exploring to do.”

I looked into my hand, in it sat a flawless piece of glass, or a Dimension Harmonizing Locker Orb. At the time, I didn’t know which.

I stared into the orb and darkness over took me. I opened my eyes to find I was back in my bed in my reality but no Dimension Harmonizing Locker Orb to be found.