Sunday 25th July 1999.

A high school friend Russell P and his first wife have apparently had a child.  I have been looking after this child but he has disappeared.  All normal avenues for looking for this child have been exhausted.  The boy bears a resemblance to the Anakin Skywalker from the new Star Wars film.  He has vanished from a room in Bethesda Hospital in Claremont where I work occasionally.  I am sure that he has been kidnapped.  I know this because of a story I remember;

There is being known as the Ancient Mariner who kidnaps children, he trains them to live by their ‘darker nature’, becoming his slave.  As adults he uses them to enter our world to procure other children for his dark ways.

I tell Russell what has happened and he is very upset, his wife Kath will be back soon.  I also tell her what has occurred upsetting her also.  I do know what has happened and can visualise the event in my head.  I know the boy has been playing in a particular room in the hospital.  In the ceiling a crack opens, a portal to another reality.  A cyclops type figure lowers a rope down into the room, luring the boy to climb up before the portal closes.  Kath calms down and I remind her of times past and of my sensitivity to these sort of occurrences.  I remind her of two events, only one of which I can recall here;

Russell P builds a model aircraft from his own mind of a radical and unknown design.  After showing it off at high school he is later visited at home by two ‘dark’ uniformed gentlemen.  They ‘persuade’ him that it is in his best interest not to build any more of these model aircraft.  Subtle threats to a fourteen-year-old boy.  They confiscate the original model and vanish as suddenly as they appeared.

Having said this and exhausted all rational means of locating the boy they put their trust in me.  Down at the end of the hospital grounds we find another crack between worlds.  We pass through it and locate the boy.  There is a battle going on (details vague).  They have him in their grasp and we manage to pull him back.  There is a gun battle.  We must take care not to let these entities that are pursuing us get back into this world.  We emerge from this dark place through a coat locker of all things!  Back into this world.

Thursday 29th July 1999. 1.38am.

A message is received from space from another planet.  It alludes to an invasion or take over of the earth.  The contents of the message are itself ambiguous.  So whether the transmission is distorted some people take this to be a greeting message.  Courses are being offered throughout the world to increase people’s knowledge of UFO literature and culture.  I am at the Alexander Library in Perth, having just joined a group of people there.  A diverse group of varied backgrounds.  We are there to do a course on something I realise I knew nothing of before.

We discuss aspects and implications of the impending alien arrival.  We know exactly what their ships look like, saucer shaped, silver in color with a rounded bottom.  On the top is a large round sunken section.  Now I am in one of the glass lifts on the mezzanine floor.  Excitedly I yell to the man with me to look out the panoramic window to the city centre as a saucer comes into view.  It banks across the city and from its size I take it to be some distance off.

All of a sudden there is the crash of broken glass and a saucer enters the building.  Its size is one of illusion and was its distance from the building.  The craft is not much larger than that of a mans hand!  A silent pulse emanating from the saucer knocks out people it flies close to inside the library building.  I run to get away, these saucers have the power to pacify people and subtly control them.  There is a number of these saucers now in the building searching out individuals, I duck and weave to avoid them.

Those affected by the craft willingly help to round up people trying to escape their influence.  I really expected a giant saucer to arrive from space and not swarms of these tiny craft.  On the library concourse their work is complete and they begin to kill the people crowded down there.  This is done with one of the tiny saucers descending to just above the person’s forehead.  A pulse then knocks them out and ray opens up the top of their heads exposing their brains.  The brain and cerebral cortex are removed and incorporated into the saucer, to which it then flies off.  I wake up 1.38am.

Tuesday 10th August 1999.

I am with Brian outside an apartment block that I have visited in a recent dream.  Built on raised land across the street from Bethesda Hospital and close to the grounds of Maroondah Hospital in Ringwood near where I grew up.  I am in a small courtyard in Bethesda, there is a hole in the ground that resembles a toilet into which I shit.  I realise the faux pas I have made in doing this.  People arrive and comment on the smell, large turds from other people are scattered across the courtyard.

I jump the small fence and cross the street to the aforementioned apartment.  I like these apartments for their seclusion and security.  Brian and I lift a section of red wall to get into the apartment courtyard.  The door is open so we enter inside again for a look.  Walking around the empty rooms admiring the place I hear the sound of a television coming from behind closed doors.

“Brian there is someone here.”  We make enough noise to draw the man out of his room.  A rough looking man with his head shaved and a moustache.  An honest mistake.  I will just tell him that the last time we were here, there was no reason to think anyone was going to be here this time.  Embarrassing also as Brian has his shirt off and was about to use the shower.  He doubts the man will believe us but I have faith that this misunderstanding can be resolved.  So much for human nature.  The man becomes loud and aggressively pushes me.  Yelling he takes a swing at me.  Shocked, I duck and weave beating a hasty retreat.  I wake up.

Monday 23rd August 1999. 3.30pm.

I am travelling in the company of an unknown male friend.  We are about to infiltrate an alien space ship.  The aliens themselves possess both the qualities and appearance of being human.  We are in a large building that leads to the ship.  Before us is what I can only describe as a customs area, here you are scanned before you can board the ship.

With my unknown friend we walk down to this area.  The group leader, a middle aged woman points out all of the body parts that, like museum exhibits line the walls of the terminus connecting hall.  Mainly brains and cerebral cortex’s encased in a clear liquid.  I can also see eyes there.  These have been collected over many years for the aliens to incorporate into their own being as to make them ‘more human.’

There is chitchat among the group as to what each needs to obtain to make themselves more complete.  We are all wearing overalls of a saffron orange, this is the uniform.  On the back of the collar is a barcode to be scanned.  I notice my young companion is not in uniform and needs to obtain one to get through.  By an act of trickery or deception he takes the uniform from the person in front.

We are told that our transport will be a reproduction of a WW2 B29 Superfortress.  I am both surprised and excited about travelling in it.  At the ‘gateway’ the group leader asks us a series of questions.  These must be answered correctly to be allowed entry to the plane.  I relate to the woman some particular aspects about my childhood and are allowed to pass.  One by one we all slide down a tube into the plane, I think to myself that I have always wanted to build a model of one of these aircraft.

I decide to make my way down to the rear of the plane the where the rear gun turret should be as I think this to be a good place from where to watch the take off.  I am astonished to find when I get there not a cramped gun turret but an expansive viewing platform.  A long room with windows from floor to ceiling.  “I know this place,” I say to myself, “this is the interior of the flying wing I first dreamed of in 1986[1].”  The only difference being that now the windows are more abstract or of a more square appearance.  The plane rolls down the runway for take off.  I wake up .3.30pm.

Monday 30th August 1999.

I am where I take to be France in the middle ages.  In the fields close to the walls of the grounds of St Michaels (St Marys?) Church four have been slain because they are ‘not of our kind’.  Our group or village has been hiding them.  Their naked bodies lie on the grass, no visible signs of blood.  They are six feet plus in height, very long arms and legs with a small head on a long neck.  Their skin is of a pasty yellow.  I cannot call them aliens as I have comprehension of the term.

The soldiers now turn on the folk who gave them safe hiding.  Mainly mercenaries, they wear head and body armour of steel mail, covering this is a white tunic with a red cross of four equal arms with splayed ends[2] sewn onto it.  With their swords they slay all in their path, women and children included, without second thought or remorse.

I yell that we should go and seek sanctuary in the grounds of the church.  The wall is high and difficult to climb, mortar footings, brick with a triangular mortar capping.  These are set between mortar capped brick square brick pillars.  Many if not most die trying to climb the wall.  Landing in the church ground, several others have also followed.  Several soldiers pursue us over the wall.

A nun appears telling us to drop our weapons, which consist of pots, sticks and stones, as there will be no blood letting on holy ground.  Taking her at her word we disarm in the belief that we have sanctuary.  Then the soldiers turn on us meaning to slay us all.  I run and am confronted by a brute simpleton who means to kill me.  He swings his sword, missing it is stuck in a nearby tree, quickly I smash him in the face with an implement or stone I pick up close by.  He falls to the ground and I grab his sword, thrusting it through his back as he lies there.

I have never killed a man before, so much blood, a mixture of revulsion and relief.  Armed now I slay several others, so much blood, both on me and covering the earth.  The last one I slice through the waist from the rear, cutting him nearly in two.  Standing near a stone shrine under a tree, before me four pillars with a roof of Roman design set on a dais.  Underneath the canopy is an altar with the same cross of four equal arms.  All carved in the same white stone.  Blood splatters the altar and colors the puddles on the ground.  In from the altar I lament to God (Christ?) that you have abandon us, when we needed your protection most of all.  I have lost all faith in those who claim to speak the truth.

Saturday 4th September 1999.

I am looking out over the ocean from the front of a house that is supposed to be that our the W family.  In this place is a courtyard, high walls the left and right restrict my vision.  A red brick wall to the right hides another smaller courtyard.  Over the ocean I see in the sky above me a large meteor or comet with a bright coma descending toward the water.  Initially I am not concerned as I think it will disappear over the horizon.  But there is a bright flash and then an explosion as it plunges into the ocean just on the horizon.  Water rises a couple of hundred of feet into the air some twelve kilometres out.  Huge waves rise and I call for Sue to come and look at this sight.  I wonder if anyone else has seen this or if it will be in tomorrow’s newspapers?

Again I find myself on the ocean, this time with Sue and the boys.  We are looking out over the water and the different boats and vessels cruising it.  Two small cottages are being towed along on barges.  Now I find myself on the deck of a battleship.  I see further out another silver colored battleship that has come awfully close to the shore line.  It crashes into the retaining wall, its momentum pushes it around to the left.  Again it heads to the shore, this time against a black sewer pipe sticking out from the sea wall that empties into the ocean.  Crashing into the pipe, a large hole is torn into the ship.

Water rushes in and the silver battleship begins to sink.  It then collides into the ship I am standing on, this also begins to sink.  The first ship sinks quickly, the ship I am on is also sinking fast.  Initially at a loss as what to do I rush to the other side of the deck, there I see a captain from the New Zealand Navy.  As the water rises around my feet I begin to swim, in somewhat of a panic as the currents and eddies of the sinking ships drag me out to sea.  The captain warns me to stay away from the whirlpools or I will be sucked under.  I wake up 1.15am.

There is a young dark haired woman who has an interest in me.  For my part I am not aware of this.  Though she is quite pretty with short dark hair and I go about my business oblivious of her presence.  Finally she makes her presence known to me.  We talk and I see something I her that I had not previously.  Before long I agree that I should make love with her.  Though I am surprised when she asked that I should wear a purple condom!

Tuesday September 7th 1999.

Along a beachfront I find a large limestone cavern.  I walk inside where I find a pool of dark, though not dirty water.  I walk around the edge of the pool taking in the smooth limestone formations.  I slip and fall into the water with my clothes on.  I swim to the rear of the cavern, not at all concerned that lurking in the darkness of the waters below is largely unknown.  Nor is the water cold or the thought of having to wear wet clothes bother me.

Two women sit in the rear of the cavern.  One of them directs my attention a brightly lit grotto lying further into the cavern.  In it I can see what I can only describe as a sarcophagus.  It appears to have the lines and texture of the natural limestone formations surrounding it.  I move down a passage to investigate this marvellous sight.  As I approach the entrance to the grotto there is an earthquake.  This drives me back for I fear a cave in.

It is early in the morning and I am at Bunnings Hardware Warehouse.  I am at the cashier’s desk waiting for it to open.  I have an old fashioned type of latch and a plastic bag of unusual paintbrushes with wooden handles.  Another man waiting there asks the bearded cashier there for some change so he can get a drink from the vending machine, as he is thirsty.  He is told there is no cash in the till yet as the store is not yet open.  Eventually he gets some change after depositing a note in a cigarette machine and retrieving his change as well as his purchase.

The cashier opens and I am about to pay when a late middle aged man pushes in, slamming down some large white wood or resin sheets.  “What are you doing old man?”  I angrily say as he continues to push in.  “Oh, you fucking idiot”, I continue as he pushes me aside.  From behind me I hear a voice, “I have seen (heard?) pins and now you have got curlers?”  I turn around to find the son of this man standing there.  Shocked that I had not noticed him previously, his strange comment alludes to my rebuking his father for his pushiness.  He raises his fist to hit me, what do I do?  I wake suddenly.

Tuesday 14th September 1999.

I am in the company of an establishment family and their extended family.  We are in their stately residence, which happens to be the Cottesloe Civic Centre.  Previously this building had been the residence of a well to do family.  Across the road is a long driveway leading up to the house.  A car pulls up and disappears into a three or four bay garage.  I walk up the drive and to my surprise the house block extends further back into another block.

Here lives a man with a male lion that he has raised from a cub.  This animal is quite tame and safe to be around.  I choose to remain cautious, as it still remains a wild animal regardless of the overlaying of domesticity by the owner.  My son is quite taken by the creature and the lion itself plays with a small domestic cat that is nearby.  The man lives in a run down caravan.  Above it is a banner stretched between poles, on it is written a proclamation to God.  Sue is also close to the animal but I remain cautious giving it the respect it deserves.

We leave and return to the residence where all of the family are gathered around a huge wooden table for a meal.  The dining hall is lined with dark wooden walls and leadlight windows.  Grandparents, uncles, aunts, sons and daughters are seated at the table.  An uncle arrives; he has short dark hair and a moustache.  He is here to talk about the history of the family.  He points out different artefacts and air looms that are kept in glass cabinets on the walls.  He suggests that we get dressed in some of the old costumes worn in days past.

Initially reluctant I soon find myself dressed in what I can only describe as the regalia of a musketeer, but the garments are of an orange color.  He presents me with a sword and for a while I indulge him in his theatrics, until I tire and find myself leaning against a pillar.  The man is about to rebuke me for leaning against the wall in this ancient costume.  I sense what he is going to say and before he opens his mouth I straighten my stance.

I change back into my normal clothes and looking out the window I see the land extends around to the right into a beautiful bay with a sandy path leading down to it.  On the point is a strange looking house.  I ask one of the women there what it is used for and she tell me that it is used by the S.E.T.I.[3] Programme.  I am surprised to here this and remark that I am running the S.E.T.I. at Home Program on my computer at home.  I should point out here that the members of this family may appear outwardly cultured and refined, underneath this passive exterior in one of discord and disharmony within.  But for the sake of appearances they always wear the face of normality and respectability.

We find ourselves down by the S.E.T.I. Buildings.  I am hanging on, crawling around some nearby limestone formations.  There is an enclosed lagoon where giant opaque storms doors have been closed.  I am hanging this water and am surprised at the strength of my arms.  My two sons play in the water below with one of the sons of the man who owns the residence.  This particular boy begins to annoy me.  He is a real prat, I grab the cap of his head and toss it down into the lagoon below.  He makes all sorts of threat about what his father is going to do to me when he finds out.  The father arrives and we talk.  He is rather nonchalant about the whole episode.  The dream fades out here.

Monday 20th September 1999.

I am in a classroom with a group of women.  I am there to learn something.  I am surprised that the class has only women students, though the teacher is a male.  I ask another student what is happening as I have missed the beginning of the class, they are doing some writing at present.  All of the women here are from diverse cultures and backgrounds, of different ages and sizes.  None of them are outstandingly beautiful, but all are quite pleasant to be with.

Since it is a nice day outside the teacher suggest we go finish the lesson outside.  We make our way down streets to an area near a river.  We are sitting under a tree talking.  One of the women there with long blonde hair catches my attention.  Not what I would call attractive, but with an undefined beauty.

What I am taken by is the beauty of the environment around me.  On one side, to my left is the ocean.  From the shore is a pier, gigantic in height and length.  Grey steel girders clad in panels of the same.  Very hard to describe, rounded and very mechanical looking.  Berthed at the pier is a strange liking iron ore ship.

To my right I look down is a wide river with thick foliage running along the banks.  The green expanse we are on runs for some distance separating the river from the sea.  Across the river in the same direction as the pier a strange arched bridge crosses the river.  Made of the same strange iron construction as the pier it arch does not go from one side of the river to the other.  Rather it is built low out of the water from the middle of the river.  I think it strange that is should be built like this for it would be difficult for any boat to go under it.

Below the bridge and out of the vegetation I can see children playing in the water.  The white water they spray up contrasts against deep blue of the river.  I remark to the blonde haired woman how beautiful this place is and that one day I should bring my children here for a swim.

Returning in a taxi we find ourselves in a dark and seedy part of town, known for its drug addicts and prostitution.  Not unlike the memory I have on the inner Melbourne suburb of St Kilda.  The taxi driver misses our turn off and we stop in a street further down.  We walk down an alley and my mind in the dream tells me this is a familiar place, but my memory has not recollection of such a place.

Outside a whitewashed two storey building on my left stands a prostitute.  From a small-bared window in the wall she receives what I take to be methadone.  Next door is a courtyard, the entrance to a cheap hotel.  Turning to the right we continue on.  Again, this time another courtyard leading to a cheap hotel.

Coming out into the main street I see a couple of houses that people are staying in.  I go into one and some of the people I am with go into the other.  This is not where I am supposed to be and as yet I don’t know how I am going to get back.  A person comes to do some cleaning.  Out the back a man hands me two bags of rubbish.  What am I supposed to do with these?  An old woman who lives in the house appears and takes them from me.

Wednesday 6th October 1999.

I have arrived somewhere for lunch.  To my surprise my father and mother are there also.  I will have to confront my father sooner or later so it had might as well be now.  I ask him if he received the letter that I wrote and if so did he read it.  He tells me yes, and that he never realised how I felt all those years and what he did to my head as a child.  Before he can say sorry I say that I know what your are thinking.  His understanding is all that I have ever wanted.  We embrace and though now free in my mind of his physical threats and emotional abuse, my feelings towards him remain one of ambivalence.[4]

Monday 1st November 1999.

A beautiful woman with long flowing hair in a long dress invites me to join the community in which she lives.  This community I find is filled with artisans and craftsmen.  There is a distinct naturalness in its design and function.  There is also a harmony between men and women here.  However I do not believe for a moment that it is completely free of the occasional friction that is a component part of all human relationships.

From high on a rooftop into the street below where I see the woman who invited me there.  She asks me to join them in breaking bread.  She carries a basket of loaves, breaking them up and distributing them to the people of the town.  It gives me so much pleasure to be in her company.  I feel a oneness with her as I do with all of the people here.  My attraction to her is not a sexual one; it gives me great joy be in her presence.  Coming down narrow wooden stairs I ask this women if I can help here.  She says, “sure”, and as we stroll along we come to an laneway.  Lining each side are canvas awnings and wooden seating.  A number of people are seated there eating.

The woman suggests that we also should sit there also; to eat and rest awhile.  She takes a seat but there is only room for her.  Opposite is a seat on its own next to a woman with long red hair curly hair in a long purple dress.  Next to her is her daughter who is around fourteen years of age and she has the same beauty as her mother.  All the women in this place desire a soul mate, a companion.  The woman who bought me here knows this and has led me here.  It is through her actions that I find myself seated next to the woman in the purple dress.

The crowd thickens and in the mêlée my original woman companion vanishes from her seat and is replace by someone else.  Now on my own I begin to sense an affinity with the woman seated next to me.  Once again the attraction is not primarily sexual.  We touch and the contact between us gives us the excuse to talk.  The daughter leans across her mother and whispers into my ear, “stupid, hopeless, useless”.  She sits up and I look at her. I am astounded, I look into her face and say, “I am surprised at your knowledge, but these terms no longer have any meaning have any meaning to me.”  In the company of this woman comes news that the town is to be extended down the hill to the river.  I would be happy to participate in the construction of this new part of the town.

Monday 15th November 1999.

On the rooftop carpark of Warwick Shops I look up and observe a gigantic fireball shooting across the sky.  I look up at it and find that it has blinded me.  This celestial orb is a harbinger of pestilence.  Humanity will not be the same after its visitation.  Though blind I must develop new ways of ‘seeing’.  It is as if my whole being is to be transformed so that I may again learn to see but in a new way.  The dream fades out here and I have no recall of the rest.

Friday 24th December 1999.  3.30am.

I find myself in Fremantle.  I have lost Sue and the boys. I think that maybe we have had a fight.  Down at the Port a number of ships are docked.  There is also two submarines.  One with strange black and white markings is Russian and it has windows in the bow.  The other is an Argentinian submarine, reputed to have been used for smuggling.  It is reported to have also sunk a tanker recently.

The Russian sub is open to the public for the day.  As usual in Fremantle on an open day a large crowd has lined up on the dock waiting their turn.  As I have nothing better to do at this time I too line up.  People are standing on the front deck of the vessel waiting to enter.  I am half way along the deck when the Captain and a couple of officers appear and ask us to enter the sub.

Now I am down in the bow of the submarine.  Between the technology that lines the walls and floor are bay windows to the front and sides.  Suddenly the Captain gives the order for the sub to move out of port.  What is going on?  The Captain tries to calm us saying there is nothing to worry about.  Backing out I am fascinated by the wash of foaming water over the windows.  The gigantic vessel makes its way out of port and begins to do a 180 degree turn.  I then realise how serious our situation is when the officers draw guns on us.  We are to be held hostage, the Captain informs us that we will be held until they are granted political asylum.  The submarine is bought around and I initially think that we are diving because of the amount of water across the bow windows.  The Captain instead orders full ahead.

At full speed we ram a ship tied up at the wharf.  The bow of the sub lifts into the air grinding metal against metal.  Higher and higher the nose rises out of the water, so high I fear the stern too will lift out of the water.  As to what will happen when the front falls, I feel momentarily weightless and then CRASH, down onto the ship we fall.

We continue under steam over the tops of the ships there.  To my left lying on the wharf in front of a large ship is a strange small ship.  On the rear deck of thin vessel is what looks like gigantic eggbeaters wildly rotating.  Whirled and flayed into this bizarre mechanism are hundreds of what I take to be clamshells.  They fire off in all directions.  I talk to an attractive blonde woman officer there, trying to empathise with here about their situation.

If front of us is an American warship.  Again we ram and the bow of the sub rises steeply into the air.  This time so high we must be a couple of hundred feet in the air.  People begin to panic and I brace myself for the fall.  Again that momentary feeling of weightlessness and then we crash down onto the ship below.

The Captain is quite pleased with his handiwork, knowing this submarine will never move be moved from its resting spot.  We are herded out onto the top deck, the officers there congratulating each other.  A male officer who speaks good english whom I spoke to earlier tell me of the hardship in his country.  He tells me that once in the middle of a winter snowdrift he came to a sign saying that a ropeway had been erected that would lead safely to the other side of the drift.  However with rope in hand he moves through the snow only to find the rope comes to a sudden end in the middle of the drift.  He nearly lost his life that day in the snow.  After making his way out he resolved that day to leave his country.

The male officer, attractive blonde officer and two other female officers break away from the rest of the crew.  We are facing in the direction of South Terrace looking from the railway station entrance.  “Wait, wait”, I yell.  “I know of someone who can give your sanctuary”.  I am now quite taken by the blonde woman.

Running across the road I look up and realise this is not a Fremantle I know.  Towering of High Street and the South Terrace Market district are three or four huge buildings, each around 30 storeys in height.  Strange to be allowed to build them here, I think to myself.  We make our way down rubbish filled lanes; there is broken glass on the ground also.  I knew I should have worn some thongs[5].  Standing in the doorway of an old stone building near my friend’s house.  I wake up 3.30am.