Visions
This is about dreams or visions. I used to call them pre-cognitive dreams. Until, when discussing them with a friend, it was pointed out that they are in fact visions. As evidenced by the fact that I have accurately dreamed about places I have not yet been, in buildings that did not yet exist at the time of the dream. In this missive, I will tell you about the first two I remember, because they are in some ways very dramatic.
The first two, I remember simply because they were so dramatic. But over the years, there have been countless times, when I have awakened from a dream, troubled by it. And then years later, realized I had just relived that dream. The dreams / visions are usually quite short, but can be intensely packed with detail and information. The first one, lasted no more than a few seconds. And yet, when I relived it, every detail in the dream was accurate. Albeit, slightly altered from my expectations based on the knowledge available at the time of the original dream.
A pattern has emerged. The visions come first at a time of great impending change. And they get fulfilled, at a later time of impending change. Oddly enough, frequently the time between the dream and the fulfillment seems to be 4 years. As the pattern emerged, it began to give me great comfort. It was as if some kind of a Goddess or angel, reaching out to me to let me know, things are going to be okay. So, in some ways, it was like having a companion along on the sometimes very solitary journey of this often solitary man.
In 1971, I was 14. My dad, who used to say, "I was raised so far back in the sticks, they had to pipe in sunlight" was weary of living in the "ghetto." (our bucolic picturesque little riverside town of 23,000) put our house up for sale. We were moving north... Back to the sticks. Sometime during that period, I had my first vision.
One night I woke, terrified in a cold sweat. I had just dreamed that I was driving my dad's car, but it was mine. I was driving through a driving rainstorm so heavy, I almost hit a speed limit sign as I left the little village of Bear Creek, near where my dad's uncle Harry lived. The odd part was, I was going home, to Uncle Harry's. All of this visual and information was packed in no more than a five second clip.
But, I literally woke in a cold sweat. What? Why is my dad's car Mine? Why am I going home to Uncle Harry's? Are my parents going to die? Why wasn't Ken driving? (my elder brother by 3 years who could actually drive at the time) Where was Ken? Where for that matter were the rest of my siblings?
Skip ahead 4 years to the summer of 1975, I was 18. The move north had been completed, though not until the Christmas of my Jr. yr in High School. What had started out incredibly troublesome had settled in to some small semblance of a life. The summer after my Jr year, I worked on a corporation dairy farm, where it was my job to spend the summer emptying a liquid manure tank that had never been emptied. So, 8, 10 hours a day, I'd fill that liquid spreader with the pea soup of 300 dairy cows' excrement and go spread it on a field somewhere.
Needless to say some of that charming stench got on me. (okay a lot of it did) and then some of that got transferred to my Father's car, which I was now using as a driver. Dad had bought a new Buick and was having difficulty selling a used 4000 lb station wagon with a 400 cu in. V8 in the days following the oil embargo which had pushed the price of gas to an astounding 50 cents / gallon. So, Dad made me buy that stinky car. it was bad enough there were few interested, they certainly weren't interested once they sat in it...
This summer however, I was working and living on the farm of a childhood friend of my father. My dad had known him most of his life, even though he had grown up 40 miles away. Because as it happens Ruben was his Uncle Harry's Neighbor. And Harry had stayed at home and run the family farm and had never married. Instead, he lived with his parents and sister on the farm. So, Trips to see Grandma had also by their nature been trips to see Uncle Harry. And the two boys met and a lifelong friendship was forged.
Bringing us back to the summer of 1975, Uncle Harry has retired and sold the farm to of all people, Ruben who is now running his family's farm. Harry still lives on the homestead for the duration of his life, but Ruben owns the land and the buildings.
Following my Senior year in High School, I was waiting to find out which college I would go to. I had applied to the USAF Academy and been accepted. Which I didn't really want to go to, because it would mean that I would have to study some sort of engineering. While I had the capability to do so, I was not inclined. But, it was a free college experience and at the end I could become a pilot and that meant I could go to the beach and tell chicks I was a pilot and presumably that would result in a higher percentage of sexual encounters than not being a pilot... hey, I was 18. The pursuit of getting laid was my life...
The option that I was waiting for, was to get accepted to the USAF ROTC scholarship I had applied for. Which would mean that I could major in anything I wanted and only have to play army once a week in the uniform on campus. (are you starting to maybe get the impression I was not necessarily cut out for wearing the uniform? more on that much later )
So, I'm also enjoying my relationship with my first girlfriend, with whom I spend what little free time I have, while not working on the farm. And on one particular night it was raining so hard, that instead of taking the back roads from Jean's house to Ruben's farm, I took the highway, which was slightly longer. And often patrolled by smokey, who of course would think me a criminal for exceeding the speed limit by as much as I normally did. So, it was on this rainy stormy night that I went through the little village of Bear Creek in that driving rain and when the speed limit sign in the dream emerged in front of me, I almost hit the damn thing because I realized that troubling dream of 4 years ago had just come true.
I was driving my dad's car, but it was mine. I was going home to Uncle Harry's farm which was now Ruben's. And I almost hit that damn sign. As it happened, the next day I received notification I had been accepted to the 4 yr AFROTC pilot scholarship I had applied for and all was going to be well...
Eight years pass, before I remember another dream. In retrospect, I'm sure there were many. Because all my life, I have had incredibly strong senses of deja vu in situations I couldn't possibly have been in before. But, now it's November of 1983 and I am preparing to get out of the USAF. I'm very much looking forward to life as a civilian and rejoining my wife and 18 month old baby, Sean. They had left Oklahoma City in June, to begin the transition to Minneapolis where we were planning on living. Karen, my first wife, was from Minneapolis and being she was in the news business and Minneapolis was and still is 15th market, it was an attractive place for her to seek employment. But, there was trouble in the air.
So on one particular night shortly before my move to Minneapolis, I dreamed that I was sitting in a Cafe Having Lunch with my friend, talking about my Job search. It was the Cafe more than anything that left an impression on me. The walls were painted an almost metallic red and the whole place was done up in 50s style Art Deco, albeit on a grand scale. All of the food stations had neon signs depicting Salads, Sandwiches, Drinks, etc. The 20' or more cathedral ceiling was supported by four large bright red pillars. And from my vantage point in the dream, I was looking across the table at my friend and behind him he was framed by two of the pillars and behind those pillars was all the neon and their associated food stations. To the right of the food stations was a wall filled with windows that allowed the sun to shine in and sparkle on the metallic nature of the red stone pillars. It was all rather impressive and memorable.
What was also memorable was that we were talking about yet another extended depressing job search. And the fact that I was alone. No wife. No Son.
Skip ahead to 1987. In the intervening years, I returned to Mpls only to find out my now Ex had fallen for a drunken wife abusing DJ she worked with. She ran off with him and took my son. I spent almost two years looking for a job in my field (video production) supporting myself for a time as a car salesman. Finally getting a dream job at UW-Stout, I became the production manager of a Wisconsin public Television facility. That job had not gone well and when it was time to renew me for a 3rd year, my contract was not renewed. Two words. Office Politics.
The prospect of another two year job search for another two year job was not appealing and on one particular day my friend Pat and I went over to the newly finished student center to have lunch and a quiet chat. (Away from the rest of the crew, whose conversations were always dominated by one of the more gregarious members) So it was, that instead of sitting by the windows with the rest of the crew, Patrick and I were sitting in the exact perspective of my dream 4 years earlier, when I realized another dream had come true. Being a visual guy I guess, it's astounding the clarity and perfection between the dreams and the actual events. Everything I described to you above, was exact and precise as in the dream. And it hit me like a ton of bricks.
When I dreamed the vision, the building had not yet been built. I had not yet even set foot on the UW Stout campus. And yet the visual accuracy of the dream was astounding. it was this second vision more than the first even, that convinced me, all was going to be okay.
The following week, I became a candidate and eventually won the position at Kohler Company, to manage their in house production studio.
All was going to be well.
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