Dream - Crashing the car, then saved, then a woman who was drinking

On Sunday, August 25, 2002, or thereabouts, while sleeping in the afternoon, I had a dream. The first part of the dream is lost, but later in the dream I was driving somewhere, perhaps from Fallon, Nevada. I may have been going to Reno, but the roads were closer to what exists going back to Arizona. The road was not a complete match for reality in any case.

I was driving the dark blue 1987 Oldsmobile and was extremely tired. The road led uphill and was only two lanes. Rain was falling. The road turned to the right and leveled out. I turned the steering wheel, but had to turn and turn for the wheels to turn enough. I finally had the steering wheel turned all the way to lock, and it wouldn't turn anymore. It was still not enough. For some reason, the car couldn't turn at a tight enough angle, and instead turned in a broad arc that sent it around the corner and onto the opposite side of the road. The road bordered a cliff at that point, and did not have a guard rail. Both wheels on the driver's side went off the road, and then the car turned nose down and tilted until the windshield was pointed at the ground. I saw muddy ground and puddles far below, rushing up very fast. I wondered how I was going to get out of this one and grimly thought "God be with me."

There was a period of blankness and then I woke up, still in the dream, and found myself parked off the side of the road. I was still in the same area, but the road now had a long, wide paved parking area at the edge along the cliff and a guard rail. I was parked at a slight angle facing the guard rail. Another car was parked a ways back, along the way I had come. I was concerned that the person in the other car was watching me, but I was also amused by it.

I was not as tired after my nap, but I realized that I had forgotten to pick up the Saturday paper before I left town, and had completely forgotten the Friday paper. It was too late now for the Friday paper, but I figured I should go back to town and get the Saturday paper. I was reluctant to do this, but turned the car around and did it anyway. It was now early morning.

When I got back to town, a relatively short distance, it was evening. I drove through the parking lots of adjoining small businesses, directly from lot to lot, looking for a newspaper machine. Eventually, larger businesses appeared, such as grocery and other stores. They had large doorways on the sides, near the front, and I slowly drove through them into the stores and inside along the fronts of the stores, still looking for newspaper machines. People were in the stores shopping and paying for things, but the stores were not especially crowded. I felt that the stores had been built to allow cars to drive through like this, and nobody seemed to notice me, but I became increasingly disturbed and decided to go back into the parking lots after exiting this store. I went into the parking lot and turned right, heading in the direction of the street. It was dark, and may have been extremely early in the morning, just before dawn.

At some point I was no longer driving the car. A Mexican woman came out from the store. I felt that I knew her slightly. She was going home after working there. At the sidewalk, there was a dark spray pattern, in a Christmas tree shape a few feet long, like a bottle or glass had been violently knocked over. The stain was dry, but I felt that it was relatively recent.

The woman, who was perhaps in her thirties, thought that her sister had left it and was concerned that someone would find out that she had been drinking again. The woman searched for a cork that she was sure was there. She wanted to find it to remove the evidence. I finally found a small cork, but it was really tiny and got away when I tried to pick it up. It bounced energetically several times, perhaps going eight feet in the opposite direction, that is, behind me. I was not able to initially relocate it, but finally did. I woke up before securing it, however.

Dream - The new timeline and the psychic lecturer

Tuesday, April 21, 2009, in the middle of the night or early morning, I had a strange dream about getting killed and then the timeline changing so that I was alive again.

In the dream, I was driving in Nevada. I had traveled there from Arizona. Earlier in the dream, there had been some time at home, and something about packing the suitcases, in my bedroom I think, and talking about the trip. In this trip, I went far to the north of where I usually go. This was intentional, and I had a specific place I was going to. I think it was something I had talked about with my father, some place he had business dealings. It was a little town in a relatively high area, probably 4000-5000 feet or more, with mountains around it. I had gotten in the general area, but still quite a ways from it.

It was late at night, approaching morning I think, and I was very tired and it was hard to drive. I was going along in an area where the road had been cut out from some little mountains, going fairly straight, with broad areas of loose dirt on each side for shoulders. There were places beyond the shoulder where the cutout area of the mountains could be seen, a sloping wall of hard dirt, and also some places between them where the dirt had been used to fill in gaps to make the shoulder. I was going west now, and had just turned off onto the road a little ways back. I had been going north. I was driving slower here, looking for a good place to pull off and sleep for a while. Traffic was very light.

Then I was waking up, sitting in the car, parked in the soft dirt, several feet from the road. It was very early morning, around sun up or maybe just before. I had the strangest feeling, that something had happened that night, and then things had been completely changed. It felt like I had actually been killed, hit by another car going the other way, either when I had been going slower, looking for a place to pull off or after I had pulled off and was slowly going along the shoulder for a ways, deciding where I wanted to stop, and that then it had been redone, and I was moved to a timeline where it didn't happen. I think it was partly done by myself, but a great deal of it, maybe most of it, was done by outside agencies, perhaps angels, though I'm not sure. It could have been UFO-type people, or people who were from alternate timelines or other universes, or even time travelers. It was the strangest feeling. I felt kind of airy and light-headed.

I continued on to where I had been going. I had actually been going, intentionally and temporarily, in the wrong direction earlier, looking for some place to pull off and sleep. It was an area I had been in a few times before, in dreams, so I knew generally what it was like.

Now I turned around and headed east. Traffic had picked up a bit. I think I went to a little town where some small businesses were, garages or service stations, to talk to some people there. I think my father joined up with me. He may have been driving a large white pickup truck.

Someone was visiting there, passing through, giving brief talks. I think it may have been a route he regularly traveled, but months passed before he returned to a particular place. He talked about psychic stuff and the paranormal. (In real life, the radio was playing and the Coast to Coast AM show was on. That night, Bruce Goldberg was a guest. I'm not sure if he was still on when the dream happened. It might have been when the show was replaying the first hour of his time, or the dream might have happened afterward. In any case, the person seems to have been based on him and sounded like him, and was a fast talker.)

I think I had been wanting to see him, and although I was already in the area for something else, I think I particularly went to this place at this time to try and catch up with him. I got to talk to him briefly as he was heading for the door after his talk, and continued to talk to him briefly outside. He seemed interested and agreed that what I thought happened could have happened, and even talked a little about such things, but seemed to be in a hurry and I didn't feel that what had happened to me was really properly sinking in to him. He left then and drove off to the next place in some other little town. I felt I had to try to catch up with him again, either in the next place or somewhere else in his tour.

I went off with my father to the next town he was going to be at, I think after finishing up our business where we were. It was a some place to the east, some distance away apparently. It was late at night when we got there, not far from morning. We parked outside of town and made our way forward on foot. I'm not sure why. I think we may have been worried for some reason about being trapped or caught there, like we felt it wasn't quite safe.

Going west, we made our way along on the south side of the road, going along by some businesses. For a while on this side of the road the area was elevated a bit, rising up maybe ten feet or more in places, with the road cut through it. The places on the other side of the road were more level, though sometimes were also elevated a little.

We came to a place, well above the road, that seemed to be used for storage for things that were delivered. The ceiling was fairly low and it was open all along the front, and we were on a raised up area in it, kind of almost like an open attic or loft. A bunch of little cans were there, most of them tuna cans I think, though a few cans held something else. We were talking about taking some with us to eat, not so much to eat now as when we got finished and left. At times it seemed the other person was more like my younger brother now instead of my father, and at times it seemed like a different person entirely.

It was getting lighter now as we made our way along. We soon crossed the street to the other side, cautiously going along, keeping close to businesses, away from the road, though the businesses went alongside next to the road. Hardly anyone was out now, and the road was practically empty. A lot of the businesses were elevated six to eight feet up, but it varied as we went, going up and down, and some were fairly close to the road in height. I didn't know if we were in time, or would have to catch him in one of the other towns. I was under the impression, though, that somehow this little town was a major base stop on his tour, that he had some kind of connections here.

We did manage to get to the place he was at. He was still there. We talked to some of the people there before we found him. We still had to search a bit. One of the people was a black woman, probably in her thirties, full-figured but not heavy, who was very attractive. She had a kind of easy-going, amused smile, and helped us some in our search. She was one of the people who worked in the place that he had kind of a base at, and I guess one of the places in town where he was going to be talking or had been talking. She didn't go with us, though we kept coming back in our search and running into her. Apparently the person we were looking for was moving around quite a bit and it was hard to catch him.

Finally, toward night, we managed to catch up with him. He was about to go someplace else again, another town on his tour. I got to talk to him for a little while. While we walked, the black woman went with us for a ways, and maybe another person or two, then we said goodbye to them, until next time, and continued on with the person I had been trying to find. As we talked, he remarked after a bit how nice looking the black woman was, in kind of an aside, a smile on his face. It was dark now. We were approaching the end of town again, the same end we had come in on. The person had to go on and we said goodbye to each other.

I went back to the place with the cans, along with the person I had come with, whoever it was now, and we were going through the cans, which were stacked up in a broad area along the edge of the loft, out toward the road. The stacks weren't very high and were just a few cans deep, and were partly turned over and scattered, especially after we had been through them. We were going through them again now. I was trying to collect a few cans of tuna. The other person wanted something else too, and said he really wanted to find some salmon. He was having trouble finding it, though. I said in kind of a loud sharp voice that he was looking at the wrong ones, that they were in these little tiny cans, showing him some that were really small, maybe half-size, like some gourmet cat food cans are.

The cans were just sitting out there, not locked up, and we had been considering just taking a bunch of them, but we started to wonder now whether we should make some effort about paying for them. The black woman had come back, still across the street and still maybe fifty feet away, and still with a big smile. She suggested that we could send the money to her and she would pass it along, so we decided that we would go through what we had gotten later, and either send her the money or send her a letter telling her what we had gotten, and she would tell us how much it was.

Later that morning, probably around 6:00-7:00, I had another dream about driving, in Arizona I think. I don't remember now what was happening in it, but I woke up with the same airy, light-headed feeling, somewhat a feeling of wonder, as I had in the dream after the timeline had been changed.

Dream - Young self one and two, dreams of different lives

In January of 2008, I had what were really two dreams, one after the other, perhaps one leading into the other, which showed younger versions of myself, when I was a kid, but different from what I was like back then. They were other lives lived in which things had turned out differently, including a different version of my grandmother's death.


The first dream took place in a very large house. My mother was there, and at some point she encouraged me to go out to a patio or porch on the side and back of the house. Lots of little tables were there with food and things. Two little kids had been left with us who were kids or grandkids of my brother or one of my sisters. My mother and I had to watch them. They ran around among the tables, playing and being a nuisance.

The boy later wanted some orange juice, and I went back inside the house, toward the front of a long room filled with rows of tables to get it. I was pointed by someone toward an odd device made of ornate tubes that looked something like a harp frame. It contained orange juice and poured different kinds - high-pulp, no-pulp, normal, spicy - depending on which opening it was poured from. I was surprised at the elaborateness of it, but I was assured that the kid was used to it. A much smaller contraption held lemonade.

It was dark and late at night when my brother came back. He seemed happy. Someone was with him, and I believe some other people also came, including my father. The scene kept replaying itself, changing a little each time.

A younger version of myself showed up, I think maybe actually brought by my brother in one of the replays of the scene (in real life my brother is younger than I am). My younger self was perhaps 12 years old, with short hair perhaps an inch long, maybe slightly longer toward the front. He had a big smile like my brother did, but didn't look quite like I actually looked back then. I'm not sure my younger self knew who I was.


In the second dream, some people were going to make a movie about my life. Danny DeVito was chosen to play my younger self. I thought it was a strange choice, partly because he wasn't tall enough and partly because he didn't look anything like me or have the right personality. His hair was dark and he looked much younger than he does now, but for an instant when I contemplated his age he looked much older with wrinkles and gray hair and then he was young again.

He went to go through a door and looked back at me and laughed, and then continued through the door. I thought, well maybe he was the right choice after all.

I then saw various scenes of my life, my life as it had been in the dream. Apparently my life was being reviewed in an effort to get material for the movie script.

In the dream version of my life, my father was much different. He was tall with dark hair perhaps one and a half inches long on top, a long rectangular face, and a long muscular torso. In real life, my father was tall and strong, but started going bald fairly early, and tended to be overweight. My mother, who was shown in a separate scene, looked about the same as she had in real life, except she was thinner with more of a medium weight. They were both in their mid-thirties at the time shown, and seemed happy.

In the dream, I was put with foster parents for the 7th and 8th grades, but I'm not sure why. I looked back at the 8th grade time and I seemed to be happy. My younger self didn't quite look like I did, looking more like a combination of my brother and myself. In real life, I have a brother and two sisters, but in the dream I didn't have any sisters, though I think I did still have a brother. My younger self also seemed to interact more with the other kids than I did in real life, though he still seemed a little bit shy.

I watched my 8th grade class, at a time when the class was not in session. Kids were in the classroom, standing in various groups, talking to each other. Watching the scene, I saw some girls and remarked to someone with me that I liked a particular girl back then, she was hot. I gave her first name and a couple of different possibilities for her last name, and was a little bothered that I was unable to quite remember it. I don't believe the name in the dream quite matched a real name, but in real life there was a girl something like that - slim with a reasonably good figure, light brown hair and perhaps a little taller and somewhat different looking than the one in the dream. In real life I thought she looked somewhat attractive - especially her figure - but I didn't talk to her and thought someone else looked better (I didn't talk to her either).

My impression is that my younger self, in this new version of my life, did have some interaction with the girls, even if in a relatively minor way. I'm not sure which girls, though, and it may or may not have included the girls mentioned above. And while this version of myself was less shy than I had in reality been, he still tended to let the people around him, whether boys or girls, do most of the talking.

Toward the end there was a scene at a restaurant where I was with my mother and grandmother and perhaps someone else. I was now older than before, an adult, though younger than I am in real life. The tables were widely spaced, and we were sitting down at one in the middle and toward one wall.

Then the scene moved forward in time a little and my grandmother was on the floor on her side, partly curled up from where she fell off the chair. Everyone in the room was staring at her. My mother was leaning to the side and forward, looking at her, an expression of alarm on her face. I was farther down the table, in the process of standing up.

Some time passed, while various people went over to my grandmother and looked briefly at her, perhaps touching her lightly but apparently not doing much else. I could hear them talking among themselves about her, in low, mumbling tones. I didn't catch much of what was being said. I went over there, too, in the form of my younger self, after the others had finished and had indicated that I should come. I bent down and looked at her and I think touched her shoulder, but there didn't seem to be anything I could do.

A little while later the ambulance arrived. Bright light poured in through the suddenly open door and across the floor past where my grandmother lay. A paramedic was in the doorway in silhouette, his shadow stretching across the floor toward us. He went to her and looked at her briefly, then looked up and shook his head and said, "She's gone."

I was watching the scene from the side and above like a ghost. I nodded and acknowledged to someone with me that, yes, this was always sad when things like this happen, though I seemed somehow far removed in time from the scene and even reality itself and could only manage a wistful sort of sadness, like sadness at the passing of an era, and retained a small, understanding smile.