I had a dream Friday night that was tied to two dreams I had Saturday night. During the final dream I became lucid and ended it. I am curious what happens tonight, Sunday night, in my dream state.

I normally do not remember my dreams. For decades, really, has this  been true, unless I was extremely ill. Fever dreams: when I not only remembered them, but they would take on an almost prophetic and cryptic dimension of realism and affect, as though I were in a portal, or having a REM state in a hyperreality. A dream that stained and warped my reality for years to follow. Usually they vanish instantly like fog… Google auto-complete keeps trying to change the word ‘fog’ to ‘dog’…. Okay, Google, upon waking my dreams vanish like dog in sunlight…

However, in the past two nights not only have I remembered them, but they appeared linked, and I awoke from this last one just now completely witless and aggressive and pounced on wife, immobilizing her. I came out of a nightmare in full combat mode, grabbing her arms to keep her from…

I felt her tense up, gasp, “What are you doing?” Confused, scared, her voice broke the spell, and I released her. My body was here, mind was still dreaming. I was disoriented and felt myself coming out of the dream by degrees. I thought I was still in the car fighting two men who had kidnapped me and one of them was trying to knock me out and had pushed his fingers into my eyes savagely while he clamped his hand over my mouth and nose to cut off my air. I struggled mightily in the passenger seat. He had wrapped himself around my body from behind like an anaconda and I could not reach my face to tear his hands from it. I was suffocating, beginning to feel all rubbery, the sound of my approaching unconsciousness a loud onrushing train getting closer and closer, roaring in my ears getting louder and louder and my strength was ebbing. His legs were wrapped around my torso and my arms painfully, they were pinned to my ribs. He was wearing the seat. He was disguised as the seat. The front passenger seat had turned into a person and another man tried to drive, but I had kicked my legs across the windshield and drove my heels into his face and neck, wham wham WHAM! My last kick shoved his head through the driver side window with a crash…and although they had been shouting in Swiss and German, I had the presence of mind to realize the Citroen’s steering wheel was mounted in the front left, like it was an American car.

200px-1955_Citroen_2CV
From Wikipedi – 1955 Citroen

Where was I? Why was that car, that specific antique car again in my dream? This all started the night before after I fell asleep Friday night, at Mere Haggard’s house in a cloudland.

Hey, I’m a sky-bo and I see the world from an airplane
That’s a hobo that can’t get around fast enough on a train

It must have been quite a party. I woke up in a strange place. I could hear voices, high-pitched laughter and speech that vaguely resembled members of the Lollipop Guild from The Wizard of Oz, but the voices seemed out-of-place in this place. What was this place? The large entertainment room had a flotilla of leather couches, the kind with recliners, drink holders, refrigerators and hide-away beds built into it. There was a massive eight foot television and an impressive, humming, water-cooled amplification system rigged to an elaborate home theater rack full of blinking lights. The heat coming off of the unit suggested the theater was pretty big, but the room only contained a TV, the couch, a couple of light switches on the wall, and Merle Haggard, which was weird because I was never really a fan. I did not expect to see Merle Haggard. He was dead. It startled me to see him come in, tan, healthy, looking like he rode a train all summer sleeping on hay, jolly, looking like he might have been 35 years old, an image of Merle Haggard. He came in the room accompanied by an elf who was pestering him about lunch, what he should make. They argued a second and it departed I heard a quick exchange in the hall, whispers, then two other faces appeared low in the doorway, two elven faces of indeterminable age peering around the frame inside the room, gaping at me like I was an alien taking a shit on the coffee table.

Whispering out of the sides of their mouth, exchanging knowing glances at each other, they discussed how to handle this apparition at Merle’s house. They moved off down the hall, both with longish hair, one waddling, the other half-skipping like a hyperactive child. They bickered loudly, their voices fading long after they disappeared at the end of a corridor. They were arguing about what kind of sandwich to make for me. I heard the word ‘pimento’ distinctly and decided to try to beat feet and make my farewells straight away. I was not a fan of Merle Haggard, but neither was I upset. He was once a legendary entertainer, and I was no one.

Merle wanted to discuss microfluidics and wireless power transfer in capacitive mesh networks. Huh? I thought Merle Haggard liked to sing about trains, bad jobs, unlucky love, and disappointment.

I felt like he must have been speaking with one of my professors. We had been discussing stuff the other day, about shooting a laser beam at a cow’s ear to measure its glucose levels and heart rate characteristics, diastolic pressure, rate, stuff like that. Stuff I’m just learning about because of a current project, no pun intended. I have been reading articles on physics for a decade, see, without a modicum of understanding any of it, and as soon as I started to understand any of it I would look fo research papers on the topic. I became functional in the ability to spot contemporary trends in research, but I had no idea how to use the knowledge.

Apple reportedly has a “super secret” project to change the way we treat diabetes

I get ideas, I do a quick search online and damned if a team of scientists or engineers haven’t already been working the dog shit out of a problem for the better part of a decade. So, I am curious but profoundly unoriginal in thought. Syncretic research. The lightbulb was created independently at the same time in different places…the muses were right…and entanglement becomes an interesting note…when you consider how ancient Greek considered creativity as something given by Muses..

As in, Muse were feeding me ideas, using Merle Haggard as a prop. Perhaps this was mind control. I was vaguely paralyzed with paranoia and sort of kept it short and cryptic with Merle.

https://www.biophotonics.world/magazine/article/226/a-waveguide-made-of-living-cells

I look online and find, now, two nights later the stuff of my dream. The Muses call to me, they wear the faces of popular culture.

Dream 1 Timeline:

FRIDAY

  • Awake at Merle Haggard’s
  • Realize it’s in a kind of shire with elves
  • Notice everything outside is in the passing clouds
  • Have conversation about biophotonics with the apparition
  • Realize I am also an apparition
  • Have a nice conversation with “Merle Haggard”
  • Make my exit with my son Cameron who had been patiently waiting for me, had slept while Merle and I shot the breeze.
  • Loaded Cameron and some sandwiches in the Citroen and began driving
  • Realized I was fifteen miles above the earth in a cloudworld
  • Found the bottom of the road in a pastoral glad bounded by an old potato faced witch and a dairy farm run by elves that acted Amish in their isolation from time and space
  • Took a dancing pixie and a telepathic juvenile bull as guides to earth
  • Landed on Earth
  • Realized the visitation was spectral, profoundly moved
  • Existed for years in dream afterwards, never again visited by such beings

SATURDAY

  • Became aware in dream I was in a car with Swiss man driving, same car from previous night. A feeling of terror began to build.
  • Seat upon which I sat became a strong male that tried to suffocate me
  • Swiss man agitated, urging him to do it quickly, smother me quickly
  • I struggled, and I can feel the German man/seat digging his fingers deeper into my eye sockets
  • I kicked the driver unconscious
  • Car rolls into a ditch and I think I can wrestle free of my man/seat
  • Awake and pounced on my wife in bed
  • Aware I’m grabbing her when she cries out
  • Mind and body exit dream separately
  • Decide to go downstairs to sleep alone on couch, disturbed by my night terror
  • Fall back to sleep on couch, I thought, alarmed and still very tired
  • DREAM 2
  • I am at a park I have visited a million times in my dreams…
  • Park features Komodo dragons exhibit with NO BARRIERS and a tennis court in the middle of a deep woods in a clearing
  • Only other features in the fog is a large woodpile, a deadfall next to a stand of Douglas firs and some pines, Alpine trees, the clearing extending for two hundred yards in any direction
  • I take two pointed sticks from the woodpile and follow Jack, my other son, who has rushed to the tennis court with a ball to play
  • I have never before seen a Komodo dragon there, funny, but I have this feeling…
  • But this time, one erupts from the deadfall and races to the tennis court, throwing itself against the chain link fence. It was going for Jack.
  • I begin to run as though I was Using Bolt.
  • Fence collapses as the large reptile throws it’s full weight against it. I can see the concrete anchoring the posts fly from the earth, spits of dirt flying up from the bottom  of the aluminum tubing. The dragon is tangled in the mesh it has mangled in the collision. I am screaming, so is Jack.
  • I run past the dragon and hit it on the head REALLY hard while I leap over it. It begins to fiercely free itself, tearing its own skin down to the meat.
  • I snatch up my son by an arm. I am full galloping and circle the net of the court while the huge lizard frees itself and then does a standoff with me, not wanting to rush through the net. We circle. Worst sets ever.
  • Jack is screaming. I am terrified, but more so, I am angry, getting angrier.
  • I make a break for the car but the lizard catches up to us before I can get in and shut the door so I leap up onto the hood. It climbs in through a window and is tearing through the roof to get at us, force us off the hood of the car.
  • The car is our only hope of escape.
  • I stab my sticks into its neck and eye. It isn’t even bleeding, just thrashing.
  • I begin to detach from the dream on purpose…take control of my emotions instantly.
  • I enter a lucid state.
  • I realize the dream should end, but I needed it to end on my terms.
  • The dream is frozen like a scintillation of light through a crystal. If I want, I can control the warp and weft of the timeline and perspective, arbitrarily or chained together. I have a great 3D resolution.
  • I decide to transform into a column of sparkling smoke flecked with vibrating multicolored crystals and magenta smoke that twist like a wraith around the park, drawing closer like a tightening cyclone whirling faster.
  • I catch my son up in the whirlwind and transport back the two of us back into our world, him in his bed under his Paw Patrol blanket, me into my bed.
  • As I’m waking, I’m a little disappointed at the style of my exit or creative control. I was tired.
  • I awake calm, a little irritated, and went downstairs and slept a couple more hours on the couch….but I thought I had already done that…
  • I wake from the dream where I was being suffocated, go downstairs and fall back asleep where I have the dream about the Komodo dragon attack and wake up thinking I’m still upstairs and I should go downstairs and sleep on the couch. That’s what I think when I wake up. I was so confused. I am still confused… because I didn’t know I had dreamt I’d already gone downstairs.

The episode fades from my mind during waking hours.

I think the book is playing upon dreams I had decades ago, dreams I had decades ago. As someone who developed the ability to have lucid control of dreams at a young age, this is an amazing change of pace. Usually I just dream of physics topics I read about, about work, doing chores. Now, though, while reading this meditation on memory, terror and courage, I feel like It is taking me somewhere deeper. I should have anticipated It would haunt me. I am not finished with It, nor is It with me, apparently, twenty one years later.

I’m reading 100 pages a day.