Dream - I meet Ivan T. Sanderson and Bernard Heuvelmans, and then later, my lab partner
On Saturday, July 18, 2009, around 9:15-11:15 PM, I dreamed I was driving to Nevada. I stopped a few places along the way, and got to somewhere up north, perhaps beyond Fallon and several miles to the side, and was staying in a small town. A lot of mountains were around, covered with pine trees.
I had some device with me, that I had picked up somewhere along the way, that I sometimes put on my left shoulder. The object as a whole had a somewhat flattened thin-walled steel tube look, bent a little, and rounded some at the ends. It was steel colored, but darkened and maybe a little grimy or greasy, and was maybe ten inches long and two inches wide. When I had it on my shoulder it was literally laying over it, with most of it down the front but part of over my shoulder to the back. On the side that was underneath was a seam, where one side of the metal overlapped the other. On the part that was on the back of my shoulder, the end of the device slanted sharply, was kind of laid down partway along the underneath part of the device, and had something like a bolt or tube encircled at a distance by the metal of the walls of the device, that stuck out a little, with the area between the walls and the thing in the middle being black, perhaps from a heavy coating of grime or grease, though I think it might have been that color regardless. On the other end, the one that hung down the front, the device was apparently just sealed off by the metal walls being folded together, in a smooth even way, and was somewhat rounded, something like the toe of a sock.
I went outside and put the device on the ridge of the mountain beside the house, for my mother to see the small thing on the end. I normally kept that side facing down, along the back of my shoulder, out of sight, hidden from people, but I had placed it in plain view now, sticking up in the air. I think that the end I was trying to show her might have had some electronic function, and could maybe somehow be used for signaling, but also had a more special significance. It was something important, something that could be used to give us some kind of power over other people, maybe even something like magic, and I wanted her to know that I had it, was successful in getting it. The device was small, and she was far way, beyond mountain after tree covered mountain, that went all the way to the horizon, but I thought it might be visible to her, especially if she used binoculars, as I thought she would. There was something about it, about the magic of it, that somehow magnified it in your awareness, when you focused on it.
I went back inside. Ivan T. Sanderson came in from what used to be my sisters' bedroom, talking to someone, giving him or her a reading or answer to a question. I was hoping to ask him about me. He was dead so would probably be able to give correct information. He kept talking to the other person, though, as I tried to get his attention. We were in what was my bedroom now, larger than in real life and shared with other people. Two largish beds were low on the floor, side by side with space between them. The dark green cover on mine kept lifting up in a big wave, which moved from the far top corner down the sheet. It did it over and over at slightly irregular intervals. I was trying to point it out to Ivan. I finally got his attention and he made a surprised comment on it. I asked him what it was and he was saying it might be a ghost, or maybe he attributed it to some other supernatural entity. I noticed that air from a fan seemed to be coming all the way from another room and was wondering if that could do it, but I'm not sure how much I said about it, if anything.
Two or three other people came in and were talking, one of them a blond woman. I noticed that someone had put a pillow to the left of mine, with a person's name on it. I hadn't expected to have to bunk with someone so soon, and had been hoping I could avoid it. I noticed the name on the pillow was the name of Dick Cheney's daughter, Liz. She was the blond woman, and was now in the space between the beds, turned mostly away from me, talking to someone. I kept trying subtly to get her attention, saying, "Look who is sleeping next to me," or "Look, someone is already sleeping next to me," or some similar thing.
She finally turned around, and realized I was the one she would be bunking with, and said in a forceful, somewhat insulting manner, "Oh no I'm not, I wouldn't sleep with you," or something like that, and took her pillow back and got her bag of stuff, which was by the bed, and moved off to a bed that I guess was on the far side of the room, though I didn't really see. I was glad she was gone, though I had some mixed feelings about it, and wondered if the replacement, who might be a guy, would be any better.
I went back to work. It seemed to have a bit of a shopping center combined with it. I picked up a snack that was basically a thin, breaded skin over a tiny ribcage that had bones like fragile wires, with a long half loop of something, perhaps white plastic, that went over the top and down the sides and beyond. It had some extra breaded skin at the top. I ate at the top while Ivan talked to someone who was apparently Bernard Heuvelmans. The thing I was eating had a brownish string loosely tied around it, in a loop from the top to the bottom, and I pulled it up, which easily broke through the ribs, breaking through and crushing the whole structure and pulling it up, and I ate the skin and crushed ribs, crunching them. Bernard looked at me disapprovingly, not liking the noise and thinking it denoted poor manners, though he initially didn't comment. Later when prompted about it, in a kidding remark by Ivan, he did say something about it being bad manners, and not done where he came from (which was France). I didn't say much about it.
I wanted to find something else to eat now, I was still hungry. I think I went to Engineering for a while, then back toward the other end of the building. I stopped in a small conference room that was where the men's restroom was in real life, and maybe was part of the restroom in the dream. The Engineering people were there, perhaps most of them standing, but a few were sitting on various things. I picked up a canister that was left there, that evidently had some more dried breaded skin in it. It was something left by someone in management. The other people had things too. They appeared to be similar, the ones I glanced at, but I didn't know if they were actually all the same. They were gifts of appreciation, left there for us; apparently the entire department was being rewarded.
I was nibbling at mine, and I think had it mostly gone, when a manager or supervisor I think, someone in power, came in from somewhere in front. I don't remember who it was now, but I knew him in the dream. He looked at what I had, then thanked me for it and put a large cookie on top of it and left. The people nearby were looking at it and at me, at least one with a little smile on his face. I was a little uncertain about what had happened. I hadn't brought him anything, this was something he had given out. I was feeling a little guilty now, though, about not bringing anything. As I picked the cookie up to eat it, the others were getting up and leaving. A little while later I went back toward town, which was Fallon, not the town earlier in the dream.
The way was somewhat different than in real life, with a much longer rise to the mountain going from town, and a more uneven surfaced road. I went back at least part of the way on a little stiff bar with rounded corners and a flat bottom, that had some mechanism, like a few tiny wheels underneath it, that could be used for travel. It seems it had to be pushed along, like a skateboard, to get it started, and then it would go for a while. It was much narrower though, only a couple of inches wide and an inch high.
It was only around two or three in the afternoon. It was cold and the road was wet in places, maybe with some partially melted snow in places too (in real life it was extremely hot that day, around 115). We were on the road leading to the service station, where it would turn and head toward town. The people around me thinned out. There were two or three places along the way that had some connection to work, that we needed to stop at or some people needed to stop at.
I went around the corner, going toward town, but then came back. Someone from work was with me, who wasn't too bright. I cautioned him that we had to go slow, that police might be hiding. He nodded a little, his eyes big, his jaws spread apart but his mouth closed. We went back around the corner a ways, to a nearby place, that was by the service station but on the other side of the road, the east side. It was evidently a bar, and the area in front of it was thick with people from work. I mostly stayed outside, though he went in. He eventually came back out, and slowly walked and drifted through the air in a big arc around the corner, taking my advice to heart about not going very fast. By all appearances he was drunk, though. I stared at him, and some other people did too. I felt that the police were also staring at him, from their hidden location, not sure what to make of this.
I then had to go back to work. I was starting to feel that I might have left too soon. A few other people were also heading back. One of them was the person who had invented the little device to ride on. He seemed to have suffered from hard times, though. He had been unable to get a patent for some reason, and was now being laid off from work. He talked to me a bit about it as we went along. I was having trouble getting it to work now. He seemed to having trouble, too. The device had shrunk to just a few inches long, and I was stretched out pushing it along with my hand, through what remained of the cool wet slush. It had resistance to movement, as before, when I pushed at it to speed it up, but it didn't seem to reach a point where it could travel on its own, and kept slowing down when I stopped pushing.
I stopped at a place along the way, where the road was still going beside the Navy base, though the base was quite a ways to the side, and the place was on the opposite side of the road from it, to the east, on the left. A short, dumpy middle-aged woman there talked in a somewhat critical manner about things, sometimes to other people and sometimes to me, then abruptly softened and reached toward my face with a crumpled ball of tissue, wiping at a sore that was apparently between the corner of my mouth and my nose, on the right side. I had been unaware of having one. She seemed satisfied about getting it clean, then turned away with the tissue, continuing to talk, in a softer and more matter of fact way, about things and work and what people were doing and what they expected of her and what they thought she was doing with her checks and tests, which were not really what she was doing as they had misinterpreted why the tests were needed.
I went on toward work, but then went off to the side to the right, somewhere after the road turned to the left. I went into a wilderness area, with occasional small trees. I found my lab partner there, looking the worse for wear, though he was happy to see me. He had been assigned to this out of the way place, evidently because they didn't want him anywhere and didn't know what to do with him, though he didn't talk much about it, just saying something about being assigned out here now and comically indicating his surroundings. He didn't seem to be too upset about it, just a little confused. There was a large, rough, light grayish basin there, like it had some kind of coating, that had an old book in the middle of it, some papers too I think. He went off somewhere for a while, evidently to do whatever he was assigned to do out here. I knew that people could rate him by marking along the rim of the basin and lower down, with the markings closer to the edge being more favorable, and markings along the inside, along the sides of the bowl, being more unfavorable.
I got something like a pale yellow pastel art crayon and started going along the inside wall of the shallow basin, rubbing the crayon back and forth as I went, making a broad blurry line along the middle there. Different places were supposed to denote different areas being evaluated, but I didn't pay any attention to that. Some other people had left earlier evaluations in different colors, in clearer narrower lines. Many of them, perhaps most, were little marks on the rim itself, but in some places the markings were clearly unfavorable. I came to realize, as I went along, that I should have been going more toward the outer edge than the middle. I hadn't wanted it to appear that I was just giving him a maximum grade, thinking it would look too much like I was just showing favoritism, but it had turned out to look more like a so-so grade, or worse. I had most of it done, though. I went back over it, trying to spread the color out more to the outer edge. I didn't know how this would be checked out by someone, I guessed they would have to come out here on occasion to look at it. My lab partner came back, and then a person came to look at the basin. I don't think they were very happy about it.
I went back to the woman I had met earlier, to complain about it and try to set the record straight. Someone else was already there, though. After talking to me very briefly, apologetically, saying that she had to talk to the other person first, she went off a ways with him. While waiting, I found a little old book or manual, with soft darkened pages, that also had evaluations. It had a section that had a dark red line going around the edges of the pages, a line that had been left there earlier as an evaluation; perhaps part of it was left there at an earlier time by me. I tried to add to it now, going along the edge, making the line darker and more noticeable. The woman came back. I talked to her, trying to defend my lab partner, and she got irritated. She said that people didn't understand, that she didn't care about what grades they got in school, it didn't mean anything, what she cared about was the ability to actually do the work. I was trying to reply, but somewhat stumbling over it, that he really knew things, and really knew how to do things. She looked back at me, her head lowered a little, frowning, but seeming to have softened, just a little.
I finally went back toward work then. It was getting later, though, perhaps close to five, and I was starting to wonder if it was really worth it, and how I would account for the time spent away, but decided to count it as really part of work, since it seemed to deal with work at times. I think I met someone important from work, a man, perhaps a military person of fairly high rank, with gray hair and who stood stiffly erect, and spoke in a very businesslike manner. He seemed at least partly in favor of me, though. I'm not sure I actually made it all the way back to work, it seems he was at some place along the way, somewhere off the road to the right.
Note: Ivan T. Sanderson and Bernard Heuvelmans were friends in real life. Ivan T. Sanderson (1911-1973) was a naturalist who used to spend a lot of time collecting animals, and became interested in reports of animals that were unknown to science. He became interested in UFOs, too. Bernard Heuvelmans (1916-2001) was a zoologist. He was also interested in unknown animals.
Ivan T. Sanderson wrote a lot of books on unknown animals and some on UFOs. Some of the books are:
* Abominable Snowmen: Legend Come to Life
* Uninvited Visitors: A Biologist Looks at UFO's
* Invisible Residents: The Reality of Underwater UFOs
* Things
* More Things
* Investigating the Unexplained: A Compendium of Disquieting Mysteries of the Natural World
He also wrote books on known animals, including:
* Animal Treasure
* Living Treasure
* Caribbean Treasure
* Living Mammals of the World
Bernard Heuvelmans wrote several books too, including:
* On the Track of Unknown Animals
* In the Wake of the Sea-Serpents
Wikipedia entries on them:
Ivan T. Sanderson
Bernard Heuvelmans
I had some device with me, that I had picked up somewhere along the way, that I sometimes put on my left shoulder. The object as a whole had a somewhat flattened thin-walled steel tube look, bent a little, and rounded some at the ends. It was steel colored, but darkened and maybe a little grimy or greasy, and was maybe ten inches long and two inches wide. When I had it on my shoulder it was literally laying over it, with most of it down the front but part of over my shoulder to the back. On the side that was underneath was a seam, where one side of the metal overlapped the other. On the part that was on the back of my shoulder, the end of the device slanted sharply, was kind of laid down partway along the underneath part of the device, and had something like a bolt or tube encircled at a distance by the metal of the walls of the device, that stuck out a little, with the area between the walls and the thing in the middle being black, perhaps from a heavy coating of grime or grease, though I think it might have been that color regardless. On the other end, the one that hung down the front, the device was apparently just sealed off by the metal walls being folded together, in a smooth even way, and was somewhat rounded, something like the toe of a sock.
I went outside and put the device on the ridge of the mountain beside the house, for my mother to see the small thing on the end. I normally kept that side facing down, along the back of my shoulder, out of sight, hidden from people, but I had placed it in plain view now, sticking up in the air. I think that the end I was trying to show her might have had some electronic function, and could maybe somehow be used for signaling, but also had a more special significance. It was something important, something that could be used to give us some kind of power over other people, maybe even something like magic, and I wanted her to know that I had it, was successful in getting it. The device was small, and she was far way, beyond mountain after tree covered mountain, that went all the way to the horizon, but I thought it might be visible to her, especially if she used binoculars, as I thought she would. There was something about it, about the magic of it, that somehow magnified it in your awareness, when you focused on it.
I went back inside. Ivan T. Sanderson came in from what used to be my sisters' bedroom, talking to someone, giving him or her a reading or answer to a question. I was hoping to ask him about me. He was dead so would probably be able to give correct information. He kept talking to the other person, though, as I tried to get his attention. We were in what was my bedroom now, larger than in real life and shared with other people. Two largish beds were low on the floor, side by side with space between them. The dark green cover on mine kept lifting up in a big wave, which moved from the far top corner down the sheet. It did it over and over at slightly irregular intervals. I was trying to point it out to Ivan. I finally got his attention and he made a surprised comment on it. I asked him what it was and he was saying it might be a ghost, or maybe he attributed it to some other supernatural entity. I noticed that air from a fan seemed to be coming all the way from another room and was wondering if that could do it, but I'm not sure how much I said about it, if anything.
Two or three other people came in and were talking, one of them a blond woman. I noticed that someone had put a pillow to the left of mine, with a person's name on it. I hadn't expected to have to bunk with someone so soon, and had been hoping I could avoid it. I noticed the name on the pillow was the name of Dick Cheney's daughter, Liz. She was the blond woman, and was now in the space between the beds, turned mostly away from me, talking to someone. I kept trying subtly to get her attention, saying, "Look who is sleeping next to me," or "Look, someone is already sleeping next to me," or some similar thing.
She finally turned around, and realized I was the one she would be bunking with, and said in a forceful, somewhat insulting manner, "Oh no I'm not, I wouldn't sleep with you," or something like that, and took her pillow back and got her bag of stuff, which was by the bed, and moved off to a bed that I guess was on the far side of the room, though I didn't really see. I was glad she was gone, though I had some mixed feelings about it, and wondered if the replacement, who might be a guy, would be any better.
I went back to work. It seemed to have a bit of a shopping center combined with it. I picked up a snack that was basically a thin, breaded skin over a tiny ribcage that had bones like fragile wires, with a long half loop of something, perhaps white plastic, that went over the top and down the sides and beyond. It had some extra breaded skin at the top. I ate at the top while Ivan talked to someone who was apparently Bernard Heuvelmans. The thing I was eating had a brownish string loosely tied around it, in a loop from the top to the bottom, and I pulled it up, which easily broke through the ribs, breaking through and crushing the whole structure and pulling it up, and I ate the skin and crushed ribs, crunching them. Bernard looked at me disapprovingly, not liking the noise and thinking it denoted poor manners, though he initially didn't comment. Later when prompted about it, in a kidding remark by Ivan, he did say something about it being bad manners, and not done where he came from (which was France). I didn't say much about it.
I wanted to find something else to eat now, I was still hungry. I think I went to Engineering for a while, then back toward the other end of the building. I stopped in a small conference room that was where the men's restroom was in real life, and maybe was part of the restroom in the dream. The Engineering people were there, perhaps most of them standing, but a few were sitting on various things. I picked up a canister that was left there, that evidently had some more dried breaded skin in it. It was something left by someone in management. The other people had things too. They appeared to be similar, the ones I glanced at, but I didn't know if they were actually all the same. They were gifts of appreciation, left there for us; apparently the entire department was being rewarded.
I was nibbling at mine, and I think had it mostly gone, when a manager or supervisor I think, someone in power, came in from somewhere in front. I don't remember who it was now, but I knew him in the dream. He looked at what I had, then thanked me for it and put a large cookie on top of it and left. The people nearby were looking at it and at me, at least one with a little smile on his face. I was a little uncertain about what had happened. I hadn't brought him anything, this was something he had given out. I was feeling a little guilty now, though, about not bringing anything. As I picked the cookie up to eat it, the others were getting up and leaving. A little while later I went back toward town, which was Fallon, not the town earlier in the dream.
The way was somewhat different than in real life, with a much longer rise to the mountain going from town, and a more uneven surfaced road. I went back at least part of the way on a little stiff bar with rounded corners and a flat bottom, that had some mechanism, like a few tiny wheels underneath it, that could be used for travel. It seems it had to be pushed along, like a skateboard, to get it started, and then it would go for a while. It was much narrower though, only a couple of inches wide and an inch high.
It was only around two or three in the afternoon. It was cold and the road was wet in places, maybe with some partially melted snow in places too (in real life it was extremely hot that day, around 115). We were on the road leading to the service station, where it would turn and head toward town. The people around me thinned out. There were two or three places along the way that had some connection to work, that we needed to stop at or some people needed to stop at.
I went around the corner, going toward town, but then came back. Someone from work was with me, who wasn't too bright. I cautioned him that we had to go slow, that police might be hiding. He nodded a little, his eyes big, his jaws spread apart but his mouth closed. We went back around the corner a ways, to a nearby place, that was by the service station but on the other side of the road, the east side. It was evidently a bar, and the area in front of it was thick with people from work. I mostly stayed outside, though he went in. He eventually came back out, and slowly walked and drifted through the air in a big arc around the corner, taking my advice to heart about not going very fast. By all appearances he was drunk, though. I stared at him, and some other people did too. I felt that the police were also staring at him, from their hidden location, not sure what to make of this.
I then had to go back to work. I was starting to feel that I might have left too soon. A few other people were also heading back. One of them was the person who had invented the little device to ride on. He seemed to have suffered from hard times, though. He had been unable to get a patent for some reason, and was now being laid off from work. He talked to me a bit about it as we went along. I was having trouble getting it to work now. He seemed to having trouble, too. The device had shrunk to just a few inches long, and I was stretched out pushing it along with my hand, through what remained of the cool wet slush. It had resistance to movement, as before, when I pushed at it to speed it up, but it didn't seem to reach a point where it could travel on its own, and kept slowing down when I stopped pushing.
I stopped at a place along the way, where the road was still going beside the Navy base, though the base was quite a ways to the side, and the place was on the opposite side of the road from it, to the east, on the left. A short, dumpy middle-aged woman there talked in a somewhat critical manner about things, sometimes to other people and sometimes to me, then abruptly softened and reached toward my face with a crumpled ball of tissue, wiping at a sore that was apparently between the corner of my mouth and my nose, on the right side. I had been unaware of having one. She seemed satisfied about getting it clean, then turned away with the tissue, continuing to talk, in a softer and more matter of fact way, about things and work and what people were doing and what they expected of her and what they thought she was doing with her checks and tests, which were not really what she was doing as they had misinterpreted why the tests were needed.
I went on toward work, but then went off to the side to the right, somewhere after the road turned to the left. I went into a wilderness area, with occasional small trees. I found my lab partner there, looking the worse for wear, though he was happy to see me. He had been assigned to this out of the way place, evidently because they didn't want him anywhere and didn't know what to do with him, though he didn't talk much about it, just saying something about being assigned out here now and comically indicating his surroundings. He didn't seem to be too upset about it, just a little confused. There was a large, rough, light grayish basin there, like it had some kind of coating, that had an old book in the middle of it, some papers too I think. He went off somewhere for a while, evidently to do whatever he was assigned to do out here. I knew that people could rate him by marking along the rim of the basin and lower down, with the markings closer to the edge being more favorable, and markings along the inside, along the sides of the bowl, being more unfavorable.
I got something like a pale yellow pastel art crayon and started going along the inside wall of the shallow basin, rubbing the crayon back and forth as I went, making a broad blurry line along the middle there. Different places were supposed to denote different areas being evaluated, but I didn't pay any attention to that. Some other people had left earlier evaluations in different colors, in clearer narrower lines. Many of them, perhaps most, were little marks on the rim itself, but in some places the markings were clearly unfavorable. I came to realize, as I went along, that I should have been going more toward the outer edge than the middle. I hadn't wanted it to appear that I was just giving him a maximum grade, thinking it would look too much like I was just showing favoritism, but it had turned out to look more like a so-so grade, or worse. I had most of it done, though. I went back over it, trying to spread the color out more to the outer edge. I didn't know how this would be checked out by someone, I guessed they would have to come out here on occasion to look at it. My lab partner came back, and then a person came to look at the basin. I don't think they were very happy about it.
I went back to the woman I had met earlier, to complain about it and try to set the record straight. Someone else was already there, though. After talking to me very briefly, apologetically, saying that she had to talk to the other person first, she went off a ways with him. While waiting, I found a little old book or manual, with soft darkened pages, that also had evaluations. It had a section that had a dark red line going around the edges of the pages, a line that had been left there earlier as an evaluation; perhaps part of it was left there at an earlier time by me. I tried to add to it now, going along the edge, making the line darker and more noticeable. The woman came back. I talked to her, trying to defend my lab partner, and she got irritated. She said that people didn't understand, that she didn't care about what grades they got in school, it didn't mean anything, what she cared about was the ability to actually do the work. I was trying to reply, but somewhat stumbling over it, that he really knew things, and really knew how to do things. She looked back at me, her head lowered a little, frowning, but seeming to have softened, just a little.
I finally went back toward work then. It was getting later, though, perhaps close to five, and I was starting to wonder if it was really worth it, and how I would account for the time spent away, but decided to count it as really part of work, since it seemed to deal with work at times. I think I met someone important from work, a man, perhaps a military person of fairly high rank, with gray hair and who stood stiffly erect, and spoke in a very businesslike manner. He seemed at least partly in favor of me, though. I'm not sure I actually made it all the way back to work, it seems he was at some place along the way, somewhere off the road to the right.
Note: Ivan T. Sanderson and Bernard Heuvelmans were friends in real life. Ivan T. Sanderson (1911-1973) was a naturalist who used to spend a lot of time collecting animals, and became interested in reports of animals that were unknown to science. He became interested in UFOs, too. Bernard Heuvelmans (1916-2001) was a zoologist. He was also interested in unknown animals.
Ivan T. Sanderson wrote a lot of books on unknown animals and some on UFOs. Some of the books are:
* Abominable Snowmen: Legend Come to Life
* Uninvited Visitors: A Biologist Looks at UFO's
* Invisible Residents: The Reality of Underwater UFOs
* Things
* More Things
* Investigating the Unexplained: A Compendium of Disquieting Mysteries of the Natural World
He also wrote books on known animals, including:
* Animal Treasure
* Living Treasure
* Caribbean Treasure
* Living Mammals of the World
Bernard Heuvelmans wrote several books too, including:
* On the Track of Unknown Animals
* In the Wake of the Sea-Serpents
Wikipedia entries on them:
Ivan T. Sanderson
Bernard Heuvelmans
Labels: celebrities, dreams, food, mother, nevada
posted by Stephen at 9/30/2011 02:27:00 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home