Morning of November 22, 1975. Saturday.

My dream starts out with a very "realistic" and detailed "back story". There is some sort of family curse where a (unfamiliar to me) man was warned (I believe by his grandmother) not to become a sailor or to go near the ocean at any point in his life. There had been a sampler in his family for several generations showing rats leaving an old (apparently sinking) ship, which is on display in a local museum. The edge of the boat is shown; the gangway is visible, with three rats on the gangplank in running position from upper left to lower right, diagonally positioned. I think it may also represent the family's coat of arms, as it does seem to resemble the style of one. I am with my best friend Toby T at a public gathering where the man has decided to go to sea as a sailor. He is dressed in a fancy formal-appearing uniform and explaining how he does not believe in his family curse, and I think he is meant to become or already be a captain at this point. There are at least two other speakers at the gathering. Time passes. There is an eerie quiet growing, followed by a strange clattering noise, followed by another eerie silence (other than my soft voice). Toby is looking to the side. I tap him to get his attention, saying his name. The man has become a skeleton, now sagging slightly on his chair, unmoving. A hush falls over the audience as the dream, now at its most vivid point, quickly fades.

It is possible that my dream was partly influenced by a cover of DC's "Ghosts" comic book (issue #9).