Morning of March 31, 2015. Tuesday.
This was the last dream of about nine of this date but the longest and most meandering one. I am back in time, probably 1984, and in my twenties. However, the setting is somewhat like a composite with at least some features being my room in Cubitis (where I lived from 1968 to 1978). Other features (mostly the front) resemble the house on Loomis Street (Wisconsin) as well as Barolin Street (in Australia). At one point, I look out from the porch and see that it is nighttime. However, I hear some sort of lawn mower or hedge trimmer to my left at a neighbor’s house though I cannot see them anywhere (they are probably at the side of their house). I make some sort of odd comment (to a young male I am not sure of the identity of) about the area looking so clean that it looks like it was vacuumed. My comment is not really valid, though, as there seems to be large loose stalks of dark yellowish dried-up grass everywhere, in front of my residence as well as the houses to the left and to the right. Still, I have a false memory that it had recently been much messier, including with trash strewn about by the locals.
I am in my room and am aware that one page of my dream journal had been tampered with. This is a memory concerning the time when I had large notebooks (over-sized binders), which were stacked on a table, to have most of my dreams documented on notebook paper in handwritten print (though later pages were typed). The page is separate (possibly freshly written) and concerns the summary of one dream, taking up about half the page. Susan R is the one that had tampered with it due to her apparent “playful” jealousy on the nature of the in-dream dream record (though also somewhat sarcastic and mean-spirited). I do not remember this dream from my dream record within my dream at all even though I read the whole entry very clearly (but do not remember having originally written it - and my summary seems more choppy than with some other typical entries of the time). It concerns some sort of meeting with Edna Pearson (a character from “Prisoner: Cell Block H”; a show that I have not thought about at all since 1986 - thus this fascinates me as to how such a memory could surface for no apparent reason without an iota of thought for about thirty years) and there is detail concerning a trip on a train and a chimpanzee. Susan had written “Hello Edna Pearson!” in cursive handwriting larger than my print and something obnoxious about me finding the chimpanzee attractive simply because I dreamed about one. There are a few other short phrases she had written about various parts of the paragraph that are making fun of my dream work as well as some of the metaphorical associations. I am very angry and crumple up the page and complain to her about her jealous prank and tell her to leave and that I do not want to see her again.
After this, an unknown male and I have a conversation. This is something to do with having no more contact with Susan and going on to find the “mystery girl” (wife-to-be). He does not believe me (or in remote viewing or precognition) and so I tell him that I will bet him $1,000.00 that what I say is true. He agrees to a bet, but oddly takes out a one-dollar Australian coin (even though the time period and location is only related to America) to make the bet - and I agree (also taking out an Australian one-dollar coin to place it on the small table between us), though the small amount seems a bit pointless to bother with and I get a vague impression he is being skeptically condescending through this act (though I do not pursue any conflict with him).
I see a girl outside through a front window when I am in a store (part of a larger storefront area) later. There is a chin-up bar station as part of an outdoor fitness route (relevant to La Crosse) that she is working with in front of the store with one other girl and on the adjoining sidewalk. I start to get an impression that this is either the “mystery girl” (with no memory that I married her in reality) or at least my “next” partner in life. She falls at one point and so I go to ask if I can help her. She seems very friendly and cheerful and I then note that either I am lying down or I am extremely short, as she towers way above me, goddess-like, by at least five feet (similar to the “Rollover” dream in 1990 before I made first real contact with my lifelong “mystery girl”/wife). I get the sense of an alien-like presence, but it seems like a composite of my real wife (in the “mystery girl” phase) and some sort of tall multidimensional being, though not bigger, just unrealistically (disproportionately) taller.
I then go to a large shopping mall (of at least two floors) where there is a monorail track on the opposite side, the wide hall of the mall (mostly open along one side in one section) being directly adjoined to the train platform. At this point there is an awareness that I am making my dream (or “my world”) even though there is no lucidity at all. I walk through the very large hall of the shopping mall and note that the monorail train is approaching at the same level and is going to crash near the large rear entrance where the double doors allow access to a flight of stairs and the bottom floor, and it does crash shortly thereafter. It somehow derails (with no seeming cause other than my unjustified belief it will) and plows into the building, likely killing several people. The crash is long and dramatic (almost like slow-motion), with bits of glass continuously flying everywhere for several minutes though I somehow avoid the large pieces. However, my entire left hand is filled with small glass shards and bleeding a bit, which does not concern me that much. During this time, I had attempted to duck behind a corner and walk to the front entrance but for some reason go back again, fully exposed to the flying glass pieces. This is the most focused and vivid part of my dream and the broken glass tinkling sound is almost soothing regardless of the threatening implications.
From here, I go walking through another part of town. Susan R is seated on what reminds me of the front of the Arcadia Post Office and the male I had talked with earlier is with her and seated (about a person distance away) to her right, annoyed upon seeing me again, especially as a blasé accident victim. She seems very annoyed (almost disgusted) and emotionally hurt and is seemingly not going to listen to anything I say. I stroke her hair with a somewhat authoritative dominance and she is very angry at my audacity. At this point, I feel no guilt or passiveness and understand that whatever path I choose (whether or not it is with her) is my right. I lift my left hand and it glows with bright blue light, slowly getting brighter, the glass flying out and any cuts automatically healing (with only a vague concern that the flying glass may endanger others - though it does not). I am watching my hand glowing a brighter blue as I wake, with Blue Pearl events continuing shortly after fully waking.