The closed doors

Long ago, when I was probably around 12 years old, on a trip with my family in our car, I was thinking about how hard it was to think now. I felt that it should be easy, all these things I was having problems with, and I should know a lot more than I did. I was basically raging against it, mad that it should be that way.

Looking out the car window, I then looked upward, with my eyes but also in my mind, and saw the blue of the sky fade into a grainy darkness. I went into that darkness, and I saw a massive, dimly lit corridor, very high ceilinged, with many sharp zigzags along the left-side wall. The walls of the zigzags held massive doors, on the sides facing me. and the wall on the right also had doors. They were very tall, around twice my height, heavy boards reinforced with heavy metal straps, some of the doors even vault-like, metal with layered metal slabs. They were all either closed and locked or slammed shut as I approached them.

I walked slowly down the tall corridor, looking at the doors. After a short distance the corridor turned to the right, with straight walls and more doors, somewhat wider spaced. It went on a long distance in that direction, too far to really see the end. To the left, in the corner, was another massive door, metal and heavily reinforced. It was open, but each time I approached it it slammed shut, locked against me.

Though I tried a few times, going back into the darkness to them, I could never get through the doors, and I knew that I couldn't, not now and not for a long time, perhaps not until near the end of my life. They had been closed, either by me or someone else, to keep me away from the knowledge and abilities that I used to have.

I felt that it had been a decision made long ago, maybe before I was born, and that several people were involved. There had been discussions of it and the decision was made, and was being enforced by those who were left to do it, who kept watch on it, and made sure that it was done. They appeared in my mind as giant figures, as a very small child might see an adult. They were wearing simple, rural clothes, and were in a small room of a house, similar to what my grandmother's farm on the highway had looked like, though they would have been in one of the bedrooms instead of the living room. They were sitting on a small couch in front of a coffee table, and on other chairs around it, sometimes standing, too. It felt that I was also somehow one of them, or was with them in some way, and was taking part in the discussion, was even one of the people pushing the decision, was in fact the leader behind it.

After the discussion was finished, the others got up and turned and faded through the walls like ghosts, on their way to carry out and enforce the decision. The other me, though, I felt had withdrawn the other way some, and upward through the ceiling. He didn't seem to be an actual figure at this point, more like a mostly unseen presence. Perhaps he had always been that way, though it was a presence that could make itself known, and could carry on a discussion in some way, perhaps mentally. It felt, too, that somehow that presence was still out there somewhere, that it didn't all become me, that the greater part of it still watched and waited on the other side of life.

Although I felt there must have been some kind of reasoning behind it, something that was felt to be valid by my other, greater self, and by whoever else was keeping the doors closed, and though they obviously had greater knowledge about such things than I did, I wanted them open now, and was mad that I was restricted in this way.


This could be interpreted as a sense of a past life or lives when I was an adult and had more knowledge and abilities than a child would have. Perhaps a better interpretation, though, would be a memory of a time between lives, when I would presumably have greater knowledge and awareness, and was setting the goals and the path of my next, now current, life. Other interpretations are also possible.

Dream - The short evil angel, the plastic trash bag, and the big meal

On Saturday, July 31, 2010, in the midnight to 6:00 AM area, I dreamed I was driving back and forth to Nevada, sometimes spending a little time there at work. I was recording what was happening on 11 x 8.5 inch lined tablets, lots of them. I was even doing it at places I stopped along the way. I even stopped at some motels sometimes I think, instead of driving all the way at once.

I was eventually spending more and more time at home, still writing on the tablets. I spent a lot of time in bed, too. The bed was neatly made, with a thin white cover with thin dark random lines and dots. My brother was there sometimes, in my bedroom, talking to me, and sometimes my mother, and sometimes my younger sister, too. Things were generally very pleasant, though there seemed some hurry about it, a need to rush, and so sometimes a bit of a feeling of tension. I got quite a bit of sleep, though.

We were going to have a big meal in a few hours, and had hired some people to do it. I thought of it as catered food, though it probably was not quite that way, as it was going to be cooked here. A big white truck came, maybe more than one, and a lot of cooks and other people were rapidly carrying things in, including huge slabs of meat that needed two people to carry, one at each end, slabs that were six feet long and maybe three feet wide and a few inches thick. They seemed very happy as they rushed back and forth, bringing things in, and sometimes briefly talked to us as they went. It was just starting to get night now, probably around sundown.

We were leaving for now, though, going somewhere. We drove to a place and parked in a lot, somewhere to the northwest of home. We came in separate cars, at least partly. Some of the cars had more than one person in them. The lot was already pretty full, but we found spaces to park, in different areas of it. It's possible my father was in one of the cars, I'm not sure. It was night, now. I'm not sure what the original plan was. It seems we were going somewhere, and that we were only partway there, with a lot still to go, but the rest was delayed somehow for some reason.

Walking back toward home, I came across a woman, on a street near where I live maybe, though it seems it might be further out, who had interactions with a little angel. The angel was around three feet high, and shaped like a human dwarf. He was somewhat sinister, and at least partly evil. He sometimes came to her in dreams, and sometimes at least partly physically, though he always seemed associated with darkness, and was never clearly seen. He predicted death sometimes, and told her that her baby would be deformed, maybe even caused it. Her baby was deformed, and lived for a while, long enough to be a small child, and either then died or was killed, perhaps by her, perhaps by the angel, perhaps by someone else, I'm not sure. It seems the baby might have even been caused by the angel, like he was the father, though it seemed like more in a magical way than in the traditional way, like he simply caused it to happen, by his power. She told me about some of this, and I could see it in my mind, and the rest I seemed to sense, like I was partly there when it was happening.

She had the dead child, plus a severed head of a man, in a dark plastic trash bag. The child was very small, and the head was very large and elongated, with the heavy, muscular neck included. The head and neck seemed to weigh more than the child. The woman seemed sad about it, and was a little disturbed by it, at least some, but seemed resigned to it, as the way things were going to be. I didn't see much of how she herself looked, as everything was very dark, though she seemed to be in her thirties, with longish hair that was partly curly. She gave me the bag, and I took it with me. I was going to take it home, though I'm not sure what I was going to do with it afterwards.

It feels like I might have made it home, but then there was a period of time when I was wandering around in the dark, on foot, on a street a little past my home to the east and in that area, going a little onto some other streets I think. It seems I met some people there, happened across them, and talked to them some. I was still carrying the plastic bag with the head and the dead child in it. The bag kept trying to sag, to unfold and get longer, the objects in it shifting around, which was awkward as I kept trying to hold it up, keep it off the sidewalk and the street, keep it from dragging. I was tired and a bit sleepy and not moving very fast.

I finally got back home, still with the bag. There was some problem with the driveway. A slot had been cut in the dirt beside it, on the left side of it, as viewed from the street. The slot was a bit wider as it went toward the house, getting perhaps over half a foot wide. I'm not sure of the purpose of it. It seems there might have been some thought about finishing it up and filling it in, though there was also some thought about using it to enlarge the drive, finishing it up and pouring concrete in it, but this seemed to be a consideration after the fact, after it was already dug. It feels the city might be associated with it in some way, like maybe it was something to do with the pipes. My mother's car, maybe the station wagon, was parked in the driveway beside it, with her and my sister by it, and I talked with them for a while. They seemed concerned about the slot, and whether they should continue on into the carport. I think some dirt and other things were a little in the way, too. There also seemed to be some concern about the engine, or something under the hood, and I sat the bag down in front of the car and spent some time looking under the hood and fiddling with things there. We finally decided to go ahead and put the car in the carport, that it was safe enough to do that, that there wasn't any real reason not to. She drove it in and then they went on ahead into the house. I lagged behind a bit, peering at the slot by the driveway, then I gathered up the bag, which I had picked up again before the car was moved, and went in.

Inside, the house was much larger than in real life, and the people who were fixing the food were almost done. A huge table was set up with food on it, and waiters and other preparers were rushing around with big trays, bringing more food to the table, and chefs were still working with getting the final things cooked, the final things ready. I went into the living room, but had to pause as a man carrying a big tray was trying to rush through from that direction. He abruptly stopped, in front of me, as he realized I was in the way. The head caterer, the person in charge, came in from the other entrance to the living room, with another tray I think, and was frowning at me from the other side of the room. I gathered up the bag and moved slowly off to the side, letting the man through, though I think I took a little of the food from his tray. I know I got some from somewhere. I was eating it, enjoying it, and thinking of the big meal to come.

I got some krill, too, from someone on the other side of the living room. I think my mother, and maybe my sister, and perhaps even the waiter, were talking about how good it was for you, and how good it tasted. Even though the krill was supposed to be good and very healthy, I was a little hesitant about it, though I was interested. I took some and started eating it and some other family members tried some, too. After a while, though, some of them, maybe me included, started to get reactions from it. The backs of one or both of our wrists and hands had swelled up hugely and turned a dull red. We were a bit concerned about this. One of the girls had it happen to her, and maybe my mother, and they were wondering what to do about it. We were in the hall/kitchen area now. I said that it might be the krill, and to stop eating it. I wasn't sure how long it would take the reaction to go away, whether it would be better by the time things were ready to eat or not. They were talking about calling a doctor and asking what to do about it, and I think they did, using a phone hanging on the wall.

I was looking forward to the meal to come, though. It was going to be a big family meal, with a lot of people there. Perhaps even some non-relatives, I'm not sure. It seems, though, that there was something else to be prepared, something else to be cooked and put on the table, before the meal could be considered ready to serve. I had to get the plastic bag with the head and the small child to the cooks. They were going to be put on the table and eaten, too.


I kept thinking that I was writing the dream down, typing it in the computer, and was going over and over it in my mind, putting a lot of it down, sometimes wondering if I had written a certain part, or thinking of the parts I still had to write, that I still had to finish. It seemed very important that I get it all down, and I kept coming back to it. I kept doing it over and over, but I would finally start to wonder if it was real, or if it was just a dream and I was just thinking I was writing it down. In the end it always turned out to be a dream. When I did wake up, the dream tried to slip away, and I had to grab at it, and bring it back, grasping at bits and pieces and filling more of it in, and then grabbing again the parts that wanted to slip away. I finally got it written down, starting probably less than an hour after waking up, or at least waking up and moving around, as I spent some time initially just sitting in the chair, trying to rest some more. I got pretty much all the major parts down, I think, though some of the details were forgotten, particularly in the first part of the dream.

The radio was on, and while I had been sleeping, the Coast to Coast AM show had been playing, including replaying the first two hours. The show had a guest and callers talking about near death experiences, which probably influenced the dream. There was also a show several weeks ago that I had been thinking about, where a man told about meeting a three foot high person with red skin and I think yellow eyes, who said, in a gravelly voice, "I've been in Hell all morning and I can't wait for you to die so I can urinate on your grave." The part about the krill probably came from a later infomercial, with the krill being a source for an Omega-3 health supplement.