May 19, 1998: I dreamt last night an interesting series of events. Part of it I was able to prove correct in the morning: September 27 is on a Sunday. There's a 1 in 7 chance that date was on a Sunday. I rarely think a week ahead let alone months. It was all very new as it was happening. I had no preconceptions during the dream and I was experiencing things and making decisions "on the fly". Back to the date, in the dream it was the day a friend of mine was in town again. I was able to see the slight awkwardness of a certain thing I said when I saw them. Since I don't know if this person will be in town at this date, and since the nature of this person not being where they are now on that date itself would be a touchy situation (indeed this is what the awkward thing I said in the dream concerned), I will not send a letter to ask but instead will wait and see what happens. An experiment. I am amazed this happened. I agree there could be alternate explainations, but first I need to wait this out.
Update: Nothing happened on September 27, 1998. I think that's probably a good thing.
Oh ya, I heard someone in the dream, to my right, say, "He joys like the moon was discovered". This could have several linguistic interpretations: Because the moon is easy to see, I don't "joy" (Yes, weird verb - first time for me too.). Because of astronaut moods during its exploration, I "joy" a lot and like they did. I joy like a child memorizing the moon's existence for the first time. I don't know. . .
June 18, 1998: I had a strange dream two nights ago. I was driving and had to swerve out of the way to avoid hitting a small, feebly walking, baby boy in a diaper, out in the street. I was so shocked, I drove a few car lengths further than I would have liked before stopping. As I turned my head to look back, before I shifted into reverse, a big, heavy, black, older make, but shiney car that was apparently following behind me drove right through the spot where the tiny child had been. The road had slight varying elevations and the impact was below my field of view from my current vantage, but I saw evidence of the impact as it happened. I won't describe the scene, though. I then quickly reversed back toward the spot. The black car stopped as I approached the area. I was in utter panick. I got out and so did the driver. I think there was one passenger with brown hair -- a young man. The driver was about my height, or slightly taller, with short, black hair and he was rather thin looking. I expressed my horror about what had just happened and how I should have stopped closer to the spot sooner so anyone behind me could have seen. I was really sick. Then this young driver said something I don't remember. It wasn't important what he said, but how he said it. His voice and mannerisms were a bit off. He acted and sounded like he often was intoxicated and drugged, which had resulted in lasting side-effects. Maybe it was learned behavior. I don't know if he was on something at that moment, but then he reached into his right pocket, to my left. He brought out a knife about 3 inches long and 1 inch wide. I barely had time to rotate my body to the right and he caught me in the upper left arm. I'm pretty sure he stabbed me again, but I can't remember exactly where on my left side the blade entered, or anything after that.
April 5, 2000: I had a tramatic dream last night concerning the death of a loved one. I'm probably never going to get over it. They are going to die eventually, so the fact that they haven't yet isn't making it much better. I have come up with a thought on life:
Not music, film, poetry, literature, or painting holds any weight when held up next to the spectre of death. The only thing that does in the slightest is our relationships with lovers, and to a extent, family, and friends. Yet, this actually makes the sting of death even worse. Thus, our net profit in life is sorrow and grief, and it is only added upon as the price we pay for any truly meaningful joy.
