My name is Frank Whitfield. I am a psychologist who lives and works in Paris, France. For a number of years, I have been intrigued by the dreams of a prolific dream-writer named Steven Collier, who was born in 1952, and who lived much of his life in the small town of Portsmouth, Ohio. Collier died at the age of 95 in 2048. Twelve years later, in 2060, I was born in Portsmouth. Now in the year 2087, at the age of 27, I have developed a certain love for Collier's dreams which has inspired me to compile some of them into meaningful stories.
I sometimes forget that if nothing else, Collier can claim to be the first blessed person in the history of the world to compile sequences of real dreams into stories - be those compilations meaningful or not. Although Collier's compilations might have been somewhat obscure in the beginning, future compilations attained more shine as Collier aged.
Of central importance to the compilations was the focus on a common theme which would be contained in each dream in the sequence. I have followed his example and in this compilation of Collier's dreams, Ronald Reagan either appears or is mentioned in each and every dream. Thus the focus of the story in this compilation is the effect of Ronald Reagan on the eternal life of Collier.
I say "eternal life" partly because Collier believed - and I believe - that the meanings of dreams are not of importance to the dreamer unless life is eternal.
The "origin" of any connected story which might be contained in Collier's compilations is also of central importance to appreciate the story which unites a given collection of dreams. Although Collier believed that the story contained in an individual dream contains a message which originates from God, he tended to believe that the story contained in a compilation of dreams originated with him.
The actual origin of any
connected story contained in a
compilation of dreams, however, remained a subject of controversy in Collier's
Dream of:09 September 1980 "An Election"
sometimes visions of
lead to happiness
I had been elected to be a representative at a political convention taking place on my grandparents' Gallia County Farm in Gallia County, Ohio. A large, unfamiliar building now stood where the milk house normally stood at the bottom of the hill behind the Farmhouse, and 400-500 people were beginning to gather inside the building. I arrived early, then other people began arriving. When my girlfriend Carolyn showed up, I saw her before she saw me. Although several other pretty girls were present, I made my way straight to Carolyn who was accompanied by a pretty blonde-haired friend (about 16 years old).
We walked inside the convention hall and sat down at one of the long rows of cafeteria tables. Both Republicans and Democrats were present. Someone to my right shouted, "We want Reagan. We want Reagan."
I shouted in return, "We want Carter! We want Carter!"
Finally everyone quieted down.
Carolyn was seated to my right and her blonde friend sat on my left. I was attracted to the blonde, but I felt guilty because I knew the blonde was Carolyn's friend and Carolyn was sitting right next to me. Carolyn's presence apparently did not bother the blonde because she began stealthily caressing the side of my leg with her hand. She persistently tried to entwine her fingers with mine and moved closer and closer until our bodies were right next to each other. I did not try to stop her. When she finally had her hand between my legs, she moved her face close to mine and kissed me.
I broke away from the blonde for a moment and looked at Carolyn, who had seen everything. Obviously she was hurt, although she acted as if she were not.
When I turned back to the blonde, she was no longer there. I was sitting on the beige dress she had been wearing and at first I thought the blonde was still in the dress, but upon closer examination, I realized she was not there. I arose and began searching for her under the tables. Then Carolyn also disappeared.
I left the convention hall and walked back up the hill to the Farmhouse where I discovered quite a few people. I also found a suit of German war clothes, put on the suit and marched around dressed as a German soldier. When someone then hollered, I walked back into the yard and found a half dozen or more buffalo fighting each other. Watching the two large buffalo with their long sharp horns bash into each other was fascinating. One buffalo even climbed up onto the porch and almost pinned me in a corner.
I escaped back into the Farmhouse, where I encountered a fellow who seemed a bit insane. He was inside one of the cabinets and seemed to be stealing something. I accosted him and wrestled him to the ground. He had a few things in his pockets. When he said he had some blotter LSD, I became immediately interested, and I asked him to give it to me. At first he demurred, but finally produced it. I took it in my hand and headed back down the hill. It was snowing and I began thinking it would be nice to take the LSD in my one-room Cabin at the top of the tallest hill on the Farm.
Instead, I returned to the convention hall. The main election had not yet taken place, but another smaller election had. I saw the Scioto County, Ohio district attorney, Lynn Grimshaw, on the stage. The election had been an upset. A young man named "Otterbein" had been elected and he was in the process of giving his acceptance speech.
In this series of dreams, I sense a conflict between Collier's allegiance to American government and Collier's allegiance to dream prophecy.
I believe that in 1984, Collier was working as a lawyer in Dallas, Texas. Yet he believed that his destiny entailed the publication of his dreams - even though he had not yet published any, more than to a few friends.
Collier was influenced by Old Testament accounts of
sages and prophets through whom God communicated with mankind. Collier lucidly
concluded that the most logical explanation of individual dreams was that they
originated from God and contained messages for the individual dreamer. When,
exactly Collier came to that conclusion - I do not know, but probably sometime after
Dream of:31 July 1984 "Government Censorship"
the protection of
freedom of expression is
an artist's duty
I had been put in a
prison, and while there, about
thirty female prisoners were brought into a courtyard of the prison. After the women were lined up, about twenty guards were lined up in front of the women,
but the women closest to me
did not have guards in front of them.
Some guards told the women in front of them to turn around,
guards began frisking the women. I was uncertain for what the guards were searching, but
I thought the way they were searching the women was offensive. The search only lasted for a few minutes,
however, and the women began dispersing. I walked over to one woman and asked her why she put up with the searching,
and I suggested
that the women should protest against being frisked that way, especially since I thought the women were
not actually prisoners. I saw John Stanford (a
professor), who was one of the guards, standing nearby. Since I thought Stanford might be sympathetic to what I was saying, I walked over to him.
When I told him how offensive I thought the frisking was, I could immediately tell
that he was in favor of what had just happened, so I began thinking that telling
him what I was thinking would be unwise. Moreover, another guard was nearby listening to me, and I could tell
that speaking here was dangerous. I could also tell that I had attracted the women's attention. The following day I was given a paper with new, typewritten
prison-rules on it, and I knew that the new rules were a result of what I had done yesterday. These
new rules targeted people who had been writing anything, including
dreams. In the future, such writings would be strictly controlled. No writings which dealt with certain aspects of prison life would be allowed to be taken out of the prison when the prisoner was released. I realized I had brought all my written dreams to prison with me when I had
and I began to become concerned about how I was going to extract the dreams from the prison. I
also realized I had recently given a fellow in Waco named
"Don" a copy of my most recent dreams, and I thought perhaps I could
retrieve those dreams from him. I knew, however, that I had recently written several more dreams which
Don did not have. The new rules also contained a statement by Alexander Haig, who was the director of the prison. Haig stated that he was in favor of limiting the freedom of expression in the prison. I thought it was deplorable that the
United States government under Ronald
Reagan had reached such a state that freedom of expression was being controlled like that. I thought of the current control of television shows and their low quality. The best thing that could happen would be for people to rise up against the low quality of television shows caused by government censorship and control.
Although Collier concluded that
individual dreams are the couriers of direct messages to the dreamer from God,
he also came to conclude that "published dreams" might also contain messages
directed by God
to the readers of those dreams, and not merely to the dreamer alone, since God
would be aware that other people besides the dreamer were reading the dreams.
In Biblical days, such dreams might
be said to have been published by prophets. At least Daniel's dream of the four
beasts would seem to fall into
that category. That dream, however, - unlike Collier's dreams - was probably fabricated
and intended to be published to convey a message to the readers of the dream
by the writer of the dream. Another prophetic dream which was intended
to convey a message to the reader of the dream - not simply to the dreamer - was
the famous dream of the seven fat cows and the seven lean cows. This is not to
say that the pharoah in that dream was a prophet because he most definitely was
not. That dream was a
probably also a fabrication, not a true dream. Yet that fabricated dream is definitely one of the most influential
dreams in literature. None of Collier's dreams are
fabrications. Collier repeatedly emphasised the importance of being completely
and utterly scrupulous in truthfully writing dreams without ommision or
censorship. I have not altered his dreams, his titles, his images, or his haikus
in any way and I have published them exactly as I found them. Only the commentary
which is attached to these dreams can be attributed to me, Frank Whitfield, the
author of this compilation.
07 August 1985 "Image
Some guards told the women in front of them to turn around, whereupon the guards began frisking the women. I was uncertain for what the guards were searching, but I thought the way they were searching the women was offensive. The search only lasted for a few minutes, however, and the women began dispersing.
I walked over to one woman and asked her why she put up with the searching, and I suggested that the women should protest against being frisked that way, especially since I thought the women were not actually prisoners.
I saw John Stanford (a Baylor law professor), who was one of the guards, standing nearby. Since I thought Stanford might be sympathetic to what I was saying, I walked over to him. When I told him how offensive I thought the frisking was, I could immediately tell that he was in favor of what had just happened, so I began thinking that telling him what I was thinking would be unwise. Moreover, another guard was nearby listening to me, and I could tell that speaking here was dangerous. I could also tell that I had attracted the women's attention.
The following day I was given a paper with new, typewritten prison-rules on it, and I knew that the new rules were a result of what I had done yesterday. These new rules targeted people who had been writing anything, including dreams. In the future, such writings would be strictly controlled. No writings which dealt with certain aspects of prison life would be allowed to be taken out of the prison when the prisoner was released.
I realized I had brought all my written dreams to prison with me when I had arrived, and I began to become concerned about how I was going to extract the dreams from the prison. I also realized I had recently given a fellow in Waco named "Don" a copy of my most recent dreams, and I thought perhaps I could retrieve those dreams from him. I knew, however, that I had recently written several more dreams which Don did not have.
The new rules also contained a statement by Alexander Haig, who was the director of the prison. Haig stated that he was in favor of limiting the freedom of expression in the prison. I thought it was deplorable that the United States government under Ronald Reagan had reached such a state that freedom of expression was being controlled like that. I thought of the current control of television shows and their low quality. The best thing that could happen would be for people to rise up against the low quality of television shows caused by government censorship and control.
Although Collier concluded that individual dreams are the couriers of direct messages to the dreamer from God, he also came to conclude that "published dreams" might also contain messages directed by God to the readers of those dreams, and not merely to the dreamer alone, since God would be aware that other people besides the dreamer were reading the dreams.
In Biblical days, such dreams might be said to have been published by prophets. At least Daniel's dream of the four beasts would seem to fall into that category. That dream, however, - unlike Collier's dreams - was probably fabricated and intended to be published to convey a message to the readers of the dream by the writer of the dream.
Another prophetic dream which was intended to convey a message to the reader of the dream - not simply to the dreamer - was the famous dream of the seven fat cows and the seven lean cows. This is not to say that the pharoah in that dream was a prophet because he most definitely was not. That dream was a probably also a fabrication, not a true dream. Yet that fabricated dream is definitely one of the most influential dreams in literature.
None of Collier's dreams are fabrications. Collier repeatedly emphasised the importance of being completely and utterly scrupulous in truthfully writing dreams without ommision or censorship. I have not altered his dreams, his titles, his images, or his haikus in any way and I have published them exactly as I found them. Only the commentary which is attached to these dreams can be attributed to me, Frank Whitfield, the author of this compilation.
Dream of: 07 August 1985 "Image In The Well"
images may shed light on
the meaning of life
I was watching a television program about the death of president Ronald Reagan and about a memorial which a woman in west Texas had made for Reagan. A picture showing Reagan talking appeared on the screen. He looked quite young and the way he talked reminded me somewhat of John F. Kennedy. Reagan explained that he would not hesitate to use nuclear weapons if the circumstances demanded it.
I suddenly realized the image on the screen was actually a reflection on the top of water. The camera then revealed that the image was actually atop the water in a deep well. The camera showed that a picture of Reagan was at the bottom of the well. Light was shinning on the picture in the bottom of the well so that the image of Reagan was reflected to the top of the water. People could visit the top of the well and see the recorded images of Reagan talking about different subjects.
man's destiny is
revealed daily in subtle
messages from god
Albert Einstein was teaching a class in which he was showing some other students and me how to make sculptures. One of the sculptures which he had already assembled resembled a pyramid, constructed from boards nailed together so that each side of the pyramid was about a half meter from base to apex. Einstein explained that the boards had to first be assembled into the pyramid, and then planed down smooth. He carefully showed the students how to plane the sides on all four surfaces of the pyramid so that no rough areas would remain. The final product was quite appealing. Although I myself was not particularly interested in making one of the pyramids, I was quite intrigued by the amount of time and effort the students expended in constructing them.
I finally walked outside where a rather large group of people was gathered. Ronald Reagan was among them. I knew that being around Reagan was dangerous because so much conflict had been developing lately in the world; someone might drop a bomb on him at any time.
Noticing a high hill nearby, I walked over to it and decided to climb it. As I struggled up the rather steep side of the hill, I could hear people talking in the background, and their voices seemed to correspond with vague thoughts which I was having. The voices were talking about perfection and making a comparison between the perfection of Einstein's sculpture-building work, and the perfection of my climbing the hill. Somehow the two types of perfection were related. One voice also said something about God climbing the hill, and something about perfection on top of the hill. Another voice said that the hill became steeper toward the top, where there was danger of falling off. The voices and thoughts were unclear, and I was unsure how they related to each other.
Since I did not have any climbing equipment, after I had climbed the hill a short distance, I began sliding back down. Even though I had not ascended far, the descent seemed long. Seeing the hefty length of the distance that I was sliding down, I thought it was probably best that I had not tried to toil all the way to the top.
Once I had reached the bottom of the hill, I began walking around again, and realized I was somewhere in Dallas, Texas. Still thinking about what Einstein had been teaching, I thought that I needed to make acollage and that perhaps I could even use some of Einstein's principles in the collage. I could see that if I were to make a beautiful collage, I would have to pay special attention to the smallest details.
I envisioned the collage as a large, almost life-sized representation of Rodin's statue "The Thinker." I contemplated leaving the neck out of the collage so that the head would appear to be floating over the body.
In the collage, I also wanted to illustrate the dwindling influence of my ex-wife Louise in my life. To portray this message, I could paste pictures around the Thinker's head to depict what he was thinking. I might even show some pictures as passing through his head.
I continued walking until I reached a tall office building. Sauntering inside, I ascended to the top floor, where I discovered a restaurant. I strode through the quiet family restaurant, feeling strong and virile. I was wearing a tee shirt which accentuated the muscles that I had lately been developing. Thinking I might want something to eat, I began looking at the plates on the tables as I walked past the booths. The plates were filled with typical helpings of vegetables and meat. Although I did not want any meat, I thought I might order some vegetables.
However I was still unsure I wanted to eat here, and finally I simply left. I thought I might like to visit my friend, Jon Wickizer, whom I had first met in law school and who now lived on a spacious ranch near Fort Worth. Since I knew that Jon had a dog, I wondered what it would be like if I were to take a dog of my own to Jon's place. I thought Jon also had a horse, and I even imagined the horse running through the field with a distinctive type of movement. First the horse would sprint, and then it would gallop. It was quite a beautiful sight.
Collier's fundamental belief that dreams contain messages from God was still simply a belief. Yet Collier was certain that he himself did not design his dreams even though they seemed to have a definite intellectual design within their substance. Since Collier concluded that some form of intellect must be at least partially responsible for the design in his dreams, he called this dream-designer, God.
According to Collier's belief, God is constantly communicating to us in our dreams. Collier's desire to prove the truth of this belief must have to some extent inspired him to compile sets of his dreams around certain figures - such as Ronald Reagen. If God were communicating to Collier symbolically, Reagon might be a symbol for something in particular, such as: "the American government," at least sometimes.
Collier probably thought that the realization that Reagan sometimes represented "the American government" in his dreams might serve as a clue to the larger mystery of why God would create man without first clearly explaining man's purpose.
Dream of: 11 January 1987 "Divine Inspiration"
from concentration on the
mighty will of god
After traveling back in time to the early 1800s, I found myself in the White House, interviewing the president of the United States, Ronald Reagan, who had just completed two years as president, and who was looking forward to the prospect of being president for six more years. Andrew Jackson was also in the room. Jackson had not yet become president, and (I knew) that he would not be president for another six years.
Both Reagan and Jackson had some idea - but were uncertain - that I had traveled back from the future, and they suspected that I knew what the future had in store for them. Although they wanted me to, I would not presage their future for them. Nevertheless, we had a hearty discussion, and we talked about how happy Reagan was because he thought he would be elected again for a second term.
Our conversation finally turned to Andrew Jackson's present role. He was not yet president, and although he held a high government position, he was uncertain that he would someday aspire to the presidency. Jackson knew that he himself was receding into old age, and since Reagan would probably hold the presidency for six more years, Jackson was unsure whether he would run for president at the end of Reagan's tenure.
Although I myself knew that Jackson would run for president, I did not come right out and tell him. Indeed I recalled that Jackson would ultimately be elected twice and would serve as president for eight years.
Both Reagan and Jackson seemed about the same age - probably in their mid-70s. However, even though they were so old, they were both robust, strong and healthy. I asked them which one would be the oldest while serving as president and they calculated that Reagan would be the oldest. I concluded that Jackson was somewhat younger than Reagan.
I was surprised that the men were talking so openly with me. They seemed completely at ease, almost child-like. At one point Reagan opened the window and hollered to a pretty, young, blonde lady passing by outside who worked in the White House. He apparently had a penchant for flirting.
I finally came to a question which seemed important to me, but which I was uncertain they would answer. Basically I wanted to know about their relationships with God. I began by saying that in days of old, kings had claimed to receive divine inspiration when they had made their decisions. I asked if there were ever times when, in making important decisions, the actual decision was just too close to make and they simply called upon God to make the decision and followed God's advice. As I talked, I had an image in my mind of the head of a white-haired man who had a small humanoid figure sitting on his forehead whispering to him.
Before I could receive an answer, however, both men had to interrupt the interview to attend to other matters. They abruptly walked out of the room, leaving me by myself. I remained alone for quite a while before finally deciding to leave. Since I did not want to exit through the main door and disturb either of the men in the other room, I began looking for a way out through one of the tall, door-like windows in the room.
Essentially Collier explored the possibility of divine communication in his dreams. He believed the future could be predicted in dreams, but he did not believe that the "actual future" could be clairvoyantly seen.
Even though he could not see the future, if nothing else, he was at least certain that he and every person alive on the earth would someday die.
Meanwhile, Collier's "divine inspiration" must have focused on the American government similarly to the way "divine inspiration" of Old Testament prophets focused on kings.
Dream of: 01 March 1987 "Impressionist"
look to your dreams for
a confirmation of your
destiny in lifeI was sitting in a room where a male speaker was standing at a podium. Many other men were also sitting in rows of chairs in the room and a friend of mine was sitting next to me on my left. From the podium the speaker announced that each person in the room was going to act like a famous person and do a caricature of that person. The speaker began calling out people's names and as he did so, each person called, acted like a famous person. Some people's acts were better than others. One fellow sitting in front of me acted like Jimmy Carter and he received a fairly good response from the crowd.
Trying to decide whom I was going to impersonate, I finally decided I would play Ronald Reagan and I wrote Reagan's name on a piece of paper. Since I had seen impressionists play Ronald Reagan before, I thought Reagan would be fairly easy to imitate. Finally the speaker called out my name.
I had also developed another little plan: as part of my act, I was going to act as if the speaker were George Washington. I in turn would act as if I were Ronald Reagan conducting an interview of George Washington. I began by speaking in a raspy voice which I thought would approximate Reagan's voice, "Well, first I would like to say I would like to conduct an interview of you, Mr. Washington."
A roar of approval rose from the crowd as everyone seemed to have immediately recognized that I was impersonating Ronald Reagan. I then made it clear to the speaker that he was also part of the act and that he was to play George Washington. His position seemed to dictate that he go along with me, and he immediately assumed the role of Washington.
I began asking questions as if I (as Ronald Reagan) were a reporter conducting an interview of George Washington. I tried to make the questions as amusing as possible because it seemed that the main goal of what we were doing was to have fun. The speaker answered and the audience laughed several times. Since I did not have any prepared script, I had to think up the questions quickly. Some questions met with more success than others.
Recalling a story I had recently read in a news magazine, I asked something like, "Mr. President, there have been some reports that some of the rooms in the White House are haunted. And Nancy, who is a little (I made a motion with my eyes and a kind of humming sound as if to say that Nancy Reagan was slightly mentally unbalanced) anyway, sat out in front of your room one night and said she saw your ghost three times. Is that true?"
The speaker in his role as Washington answered the question. I was thinking that I also wanted to ask a question about Abe Lincoln, to see if Washington ever came in contact with Lincoln in the world where he was.
I continued asking questions and at one point when the speaker answered, the audience broke into a deafening laughter. I hollered out to the speaker, "So you're the one who is responsible for the mess today?"
The noise was so loud, only a couple people right next to me could hear me. When the room finally quieted down again, I thought it would be backward to say the same thing over so that people could hear me, so I rephrased the question to say, "Do you take responsibility for the situation today?"
After the speaker answered, I continued asking more questions. I tried to make sure I said "Mr. President" instead of "Mr. Washington" when I addressed him, since I thought that was more proper, but I slipped a few times and said "Mr. Washington." Gradually he had moved around the room and was finally standing not far from me on my left. I thought the interview had probably already lasted about 15 minutes, which was long enough, so I said basically, "Well, I'm going to close the interview now, but before I go, I'd like to know, Mr. President, if you could give me some constructive criticisms. But No. No. Forget that. I never ask for criticism. Thank you. Good bye."
The audience began laughing and loudly applauding. I was surprised that they had liked me so much. As they applauded, I also noticed they were making a sound which sounded like "Mmmmmmmmmm." Since I did not know what that meant, I turned to my friend sitting next to me and asked, "What in the hell does that mean?"
He said the sound meant they thought what I had done was "delicious." I felt good. I thought maybe a prize was going to be given for the best impression and I had a good chance of winning it.
Whether God existed was not Collier's central question. Collier's central question was whether he (Collier) would continue to exist after the death of his body. Unless Collier's soul was eternal, Ronald Reagan and the United States government were of no importance to Collier.
Here again, dreams failed to provide the proof of life after death. Collier could believe in life after death as much as he wanted, but he still did not find the proof either in his waking life nor in his dreams.
Dream of: 21 April 1987 "Preparing A Speech"
happiness may be
found when one's destiny is
My father was preparing to run for president of the United States. He had named me as his running-mate for vice president and even though he had not yet been elected, I had already begun serving as vice president.
Some people were going to meet that day and my father wanted me to give a speech at the meeting. President Ronald Reagan (against whom my father was running) and Reagan's vice president, George H. W. Bush, were both going to be at the meeting. After I told my father that I would give the speech, I conferred with him about it, uncertain what I would say.
As we talked, I pulled out a small piece of paper and began writing down some topics which I wanted to mention in the speech which mainly focused on the election. I wanted to bring up the argument that Reagan had already served two terms as president and that I believed there was a Constitutional argument that he should not be allowed to serve a third term. I remembered something about Franklin Roosevelt having run for a third term as president, but I could not remember the exact Constitutional argument concerning the matter, so for the topic, I simply wrote on my paper, "Constitutional."
I tried to think of other topics I wanted to mention. Thinking I should probably talk about the high rate of unemployment, I wrote, "unemployment," on my paper. The more I thought about unemployment, however, the more I realized that the unemployment rate at the present was only around four percent and that the unemployment rate had been much higher when Reagan had first come to office. Since a low unemployment rate was a point in Reagan's favor, I thought perhaps I should not bring up the unemployment argument.
I also thought I might mention that Bush was related to Reagan, and that Reagan had therefore used his high office to appoint his relatives, but then I remembered that my own father had appointed me to be vice president and I decided I probably should not bring up that argument.
As my father and I talked, I noticed we were already in the room where the meeting was to take place. People were sitting in chairs on two opposite sides of the room facing each other – about thrity people on each side. Reagan and Bush were sitting on the other side from me, talking with each other. I knew that Bush was likewise going to give a speech and I thought he and Reagan were probably conferring about Bush's speech.
I left the room to go to the toilet and I found two doors which apparently led to the men's and women's toilets. On one door was written the German word "Herren" for men, but nothing was written on the other door. I was just about to walk into what I thought was the men's toilet when a portly woman (about 40 years old) stepped in front of me and walked through the door.
I was confused by her action and as I stood perplexed, about thirty young women (mostly in their late teens) began gathering around me in front of the toilet doors. I mingled with them and before I knew it, we had all entered a room, perhaps one of the toilets, and had all sat down. The young women had sat on two sides of the room facing each other and I was sitting right in the middle looking down the aisle in front of them.
I thought if I wanted, I could stand and give a speech to them concerning the elections. I thought I might as well do so, because I was soon to begin arguing legal cases in front of juries and this would be a good opportunity for me to practice. Besides, I rather liked the looks of some of the young women and I thought they would be impressed when they knew that I was vice president.
I stood and began talking, but almost immediately I began fantasizing that the room was gradually filling up with water, like a sauna. All the young women had taken off their clothes and were playing and floating in the water. The place had an oriental ambiance about it and I imagined the president of Japan was present. I fantasized I was having sex with some of the young women and I imagined myself in various sexual positions with them. In my fantasy, however, I still could not clearly see their bodies and when I looked for their breasts, I could not seem to discern them.
Although Collier seemed to find the society of man to be a pleasant experience, he failed to grasp the purpose of mankind's long history. Even though the messages of his dreams, as he interpreted them, seemed concentrated on "good and evil" or "right and wrong," Collier could not grasp why man had been created in the first place.
Yet he continued to recieve messages in his dreams that his destiny was to record his dreams and to publish them in such a way that they would be viewed as works of art which would lend meaning to the lives of those souls who read his dreams. Although Collier found satisfaction from creating works of art, his longing to understand with certainty the purpose of his life continued to elude him.
Dream of:30 July 1987 "Professional Dream Writer"
who one is is
a result of what one does
with one's fleeting life
Having left the Gallia County Farm (my grandparents' 386 acre farm in Gallia County, Ohio), I was now standing beside some railroad tracks and packing some of my clothes into a suitcase. Preparing to depart on a long journey, I suddenly realized that although I had a suitcase with some towels and shirts in it, I did not have my backpack with me. I thought my backpack might be back at the Farm and I considered going back to retrieve it since I would have preferred to have had the backpack instead of a suitcase. As I thought over the situation, I sat down beside the tracks.
When a fellow approached me, I stood up. I was unsure, but I thought he might be someone who worked for the railroad. I was a little worried because I was rather far from anyone out here. When he walked up and asked me if I could loan him some money, I answered, "We all need our money."
I backed away from him and he walked on. After he had gone a few steps away from me I hollered out, "Well, where you going?"
Since I did not particularly want to travel alone, I was considering the possibility that he and I might travel together. He said he was just going across town (apparently we were on the outskirts of a small town). Since he was only going a short ways, I decided it was best if he just went on alone.
When I sat back down on the railroad tracks, a small blonde girl walked up. Behind her was was my high school girlfriend, Birdie. They both walked up to me and I was happy to see them. I immediately recognized that the little girl was Birdie's daughter, Brandi, and that Brandi was possibly my own daughter. After Birdie and I began talking, I told her that I had left Texas, but that I now would like to return. I told her I had been on a long journey and had traveled in China, India and Russia. I thought about telling her I had learned Chinese, Russian and Sanskrit.
I felt rather exhausted from having traveled so much, as if I would just like to settle down in one place for a while and try to regroup myself. I was thinking of returning to Texas to do just that, but it seemed I still had some traveling yet to do. I was not quite sure if I might actually be on my way to Texas right at the moment.
It seemed as if Birdie might want to go along with me. I mentioned to her that my backpack was back at the Farmhouse and that I might need to return for it. I asked her if she could watch the things I had there with me while I returned to get the backpack.
I ended up walking into a house and into a room while carrying Brandi with me. She looked as if she were 8-9 years old, but I thought she was older than that, perhaps 13-14 years old. My family was going to have a meal together in the house and I was going to surprise everyone by bringing Brandi. When I encountered my mother in the hall, she did not know who Brandi was.
Brandi began sucking on my neck, right on my Adam's apple. I pulled her away and wondered if someone had been teaching her bad habits, such as giving hickeys.
I looked in a closet for a shirt, found several, but none was mine. I was unsure what kind of shirt I was going to wear to the meal.
In the dining room was a dining table which had a place for one person at each end and three people on each side. Ronald Reagan (wearing a black suit) was seated at one end of the table.
Birdie came walking down the stairs, unaware that Reagan was going to be at the meal. She was dressed casually, wearing a black sweater (with white designs) which belonged to me. She was excited by Reagan's presence.
We all sat down at the table. I was sitting on the side to Reagan's immediate right, while my brother Chris (who died of muscular dystrophy at the age of 16 in 1974) was sitting to my right. Birdie, Brandi, my father and some other members of my family were also at the table. I had not seen Chris for awhile and I was happy to see him there. I put my right arm around him and hugged him, wanting to be as close to him as I could. He seemed somewhat sad and I tried to cheer him up.
I wondered if Reagan was going to be asking me what I did for a living. I knew I was a lawyer, but I did not feel like a lawyer. I thought that telling him that I was a professional dream writer would be a bit difficult, but that was what I was, so if he asked, I would probably tell him that.
When I finally began looking around the table I became quite emotional and began crying. Crying seemed strange to me, because I had not cried in such a long time, but crying in front of everyone felt good. I was glad to see everyone there at the table even though I was not accustomed to it.
It seemed to me that someone was missing, and it occurred to me that Louise (my ex-wife) was not at the table. I thought she should have been there, but then I thought, "Well she was just a fleeting part of my life and apparently this was not the proper place for her to be."
The thesis that God communicates with man in dreams might be bolstered if a series of dreams - such as these Reagan-dreams - actually contained an "interlocking story." Although Collier originally thought that he was creating a separate story from the material which he found in a series of dreams, he began to suspect that he was only "discovering" an interlocking story which had been originally implanted in the series of dreams by God.
Through much of his life, Collier thought he heard God calling him and commanding him to write books of dreams.
I am inclined to believe that Collier could possibly be correct about his suspicion that God could implant an interlocking story in a series of dreams, because - even though I am not one hundred per cent sure - I do believe that God exists, and I believe that God would have the power to create such stories. I am, however, far from certain that God actually did create interlocking stories in series of Collier's dreams, although I definitely think the premeditated planting of an interlocking story in a series of dreams is a possiility.
Dream of:04 November 1987 "Possible Life Sentence"
conviction in one's
destiny will often prove
a source of freedom
I was in a prison cell with four or five other people. Apparently I had murdered someone. My sentence had not yet been passed, but I would probably be given a life sentence. I was lying on a bed and was talking with the other people about my situation. I was upset because I had been in jail before and the idea of being there again was very unpleasant. Nevertheless, it looked as if I were going to be here.
I mentioned that it was possible that I might not be given a life sentence and that I might only be given twenty years. I thought that I could possibly be released after having served a third of my sentence and that I possibly might even be able to be released after having served even less than a third. I figured I should do some legal research on the subject and I asked if there was a good law library in the prison. The others seemed to think there was.
After being temporarily released from jail, I found myself riding along in the back seat of a car in which Ronald Reagan and Nancy Reagan were sitting in the front seat. I was not exactly sure why I was with them, but we continued along for a couple hours.
Finally, Reagan was in the back seat with me. With him was a little boy (about 2 years old) who was Reagan's grandson. The boy had dirt all over him and on his face, and he smeared some dirt on Reagan. Reagan fed the child some cake and some soda.
It occurred to me that Reagan could help me be permanently released from jail if I would befriend him. With me I had a thick book all about Reagan. I leafed through the book, but Reagan did not seem interested in talking with me about anything.
Finally, Nancy, still in the front seat, turned around, looked at me and asked me about the homosexuals in prison. I explained to her that I had been in prison once before and I had never had any encounters with homosexuals there. I had never even been approached by a homosexual in prison, although I had heard that that kind of activity occurred. I told her it might sound surprising to her that I had never had any homosexual encounters in prison. She said she was not surprised because she thought prisons had changed.
I then told her that the first time I had been in prison was inIran and I had been there for eight months. This time I had only been in prison for two days so far.
I seemed to be talking articulately and Nancy seemed to be impressed as she listened to me. Finally she turned back around and I once again began watching Reagan. I leafed through the book again hoping I might be able to talk to Reagan and befriend him in some way, but I did not know what to say to him.
I saw a chapter in the book about Reagan's attitudes on abortion. Since I knew he was against abortion, I felt like saying, "I'm against abortion" just to get on his good side, but I thought he might be able to check that out and find out that it was not true.
I thought about telling him that I had voted for him, but I thought he had the power to send someone out to check the records to find that that was not true.
I realized he had so much power, but he did not seem interested in using it. He just seemed like a tired, old man only interested in playing with his grandchild.
We then passed the prison and I saw how dismal it looked. I knew I was going to have to return there. Believing that I was going to have to be spending all that time in that prison was difficult.
Like the pieces of a puzzle, the image of Reagan takes shape in dream after dream as an image of the United States of America in the 1980s and thereafter, a country with the purpose of self-perpetuation without a distinct understanding of the purpose of life.
The absurdity of life is palpable. Man lives a hundred years then dies, while God does not explain face to face why man has even been created.
Dreams tend toward the concepts of "good" and "evil." Dreams abound with metaphors and stories of "right" confronting "wrong."
Although Collier was not a supporter of Ronald Reagan, one message in these dreams seems to be that Reagan was not a evil person. Reagan was an average person with much responsibility.
Dream of:21 October 1989 "Flimsy Ring"
whereas dreams can be
trusted history is not
I was at a meeting where Ronald Reagan was discussing some sunglasses which one of his daughters had lost and which he was trying to recover. Apparently the sunglasses were quite expensive, costing around $1,000. Reagan (who himself was wearing a pair of sunglasses) seemed fit and healthy, and gave quite an energetic talk. He even used a fancy projection device on which he could draw the sunglasses and have them projected on a screen.
After the meeting, I was walking along Second Street near the Brewery Arcadein the west end of Portsmouth, Ohio when I ran into Reagan and talked with him for a moment. He noticed that I was carrying a ring and he asked me about it. I told him that it was just an imitation and that I had lost the real one. The one I was carrying had a broken band and a flimsy-looking stone in it. I felt rather embarrassed by his seeing it. When he opened the door to the Brewery Arcade to enter, I shook his hand and said something like, "Good-bye, Ronald Reagan."
I then turned to leave the West End. I wanted to catch a taxi, but none were available, so I began walking. Soon I was walking along a concrete pier by the Ohio River, when I somehow managed to slip and almost fall into the river. I saw the muddy waters swirling below me and I grabbed onto the top of the concrete. I hollered at some people nearby to help me, but they simply ignored me. Finally I noticed a hole in the side of the wall and I was able to squeeze through back onto the grassy land.
When I stood up, I noticed that some little bugs were all over me, and I quickly realized they were ticks that I had picked up on top of the pier. I quickly began brushing them off."Divine inspiration" occupied more and more of Collier's attention as he grew older and as he sought to verify whether God was indeed sending messages to mankind through him or whether he (Collier) was simply trying to send his own message of his own artistic creation to the rest of mankind. Even though Collier concluded that he - not God - was creating the story derived from any given series of dreams, he still seemed to think he might only be uncovering the story which had already been implanted by God in the series.
Dream of:07 October 1999 "In Iran ... Again"
after lifetimes of
mistakes determined artists
still create beauty
As I walked through the streets of a dilapidated city with deteriorating brick buildings on both sides of me, I became aware that I was in Iran. Dozens, then hundreds, of other young American men were also thronging through the streets. Suddenly our passage was blocked by rifle-wielding Iranian soldiers, dressed in brown uniforms, directing us down another street. Slowly the other Americans and I became aware that we had been captured by the Iranians and that we were now prisoners. We were herded along to a high bridge, where some of the Americans tried to escape by jumping over the concrete rails along the bridge. The Americans had not realized the bridge was high above the city, and they plummeted to their death on the earth far below. Another American fellow carelessly lay on his back on the concrete railing, then suddenly slipped over the side, disappearing into the distance beneath us.
All of us were forced off the bridge and we were soon led into a complex of buildings, where I was directed into a room with about 100 other Americans. Everyone sat down in fold-up, metal chairs arranged in rows. We were all worried and unsure why we had been captured or how long we would be held.
A discussion began about whether the United States would attack Iran in order to free us. Someone mentioned Ronald Reagan in a disparaging tone. Normally I was not a Reagan fan, but I joined the conversation and chimed in that at least the Ayatollah Khomenei had respected Reagan. I continued arguing that in 1980 Reagan had achieved the release of the American hostages because Khomenei had respected Reagan. In my mind I thought about whether "1980" was the correct year. I concluded that Reagan had been president from 1980 to 1988, and that the hostages had been freed when Reagan had first become president, so 1980 must be correct.
Although I did not mention to the others that I had once before been in prison in Iran, the thought of my previous incarceration was heavy on my mind. I especially did not know what had possessed me to return to Iran again. I knew I should not have come back, yet here I was. How could I have been so stupid?
I stood and walked to the back of the room, thinking I might go crazy if I had to be locked up for a long time again, especially if I did not have any books to read. Some magazines were lying on a small round table. At least I could read those. I would probably read every story and article in them.
I slowly became aware of something which I was carrying in my hand – a black, electronic device like a radio, but actually a communication device. I thought of the device as a fax machine, although it was actually more like a small computer with which I could send email. After I examined the device more closely, I realized I only needed a phone line to send messages anywhere in the world. I immediately thought I would send a message to my old friend, Steve Weinstein, telling him where I was and asking for help. I could also tell him which Americans had died and which were still alive, so he could pass on the information to the proper authorities. In fact, I concluded that the Iranians had allowed me to keep the machine so I could send out information about the dead Americans, so the families of the deceased could be notified.
Before I could find a phone line to connect to the two wires on the back of my machine, however, an Iranian woman walked up and asked me what I was doing. A tall, slender creature in her 20s, she spoke perfect English. I immediately worried she would take the machine from me, and I tried to explain that I had been allowed to keep it. She led me over to a desk which looked like something in a library. I quickly concluded that devices such as the one which I had were to be stored here on the shelves behind the desk. Deciding I should try to avoid making the woman suspicious, I handed her my machine, which she immediately put on one of the shelves. I was under the impression that I would be able to retrieve my machine later, at a more appropriate time, but I was unsure, and I was worried.
When I handed the machine to the woman, she again spoke to me in English. I made a comment to her that her English was perfect, and she seemed pleased by the compliment.
Yes, it is true that Collier lived in a prison in Tabriz, Iran for almost eight months in 1978-1979. Perhaps while he was there he began to question the origins of his dreams and eventually arrived at the conclusion that his dreams were messages from God.
To think that God might be writing a story which was contained in a series of dreams, however, was a leap of the imagination perhaps comparable to the thoughts of John of Patmos when he composed the Book of Revelation. I believe that the Book of Revelation was consciously composed by the author and was not a vision per se. The "story" contained in the Book of Revelation is thus a creation of John and not of God. That does not mean that God did not inspire John's conscious mind while John was composing the Book.
Similarly is the question of the origin of any story which might be found in Collier's dreams of Ronald Reagan. The story of Ronald Reagan seems similar to stories told of Old Testament kings. God's relationship with a given group of people, such as Hebrews or Americans, is connected to the temperament of the king - or president - of those people. If God is explaining his relationship with the American people in the 1980s, then perhaps a story has been implanted in Collier's dreams as a sort of mystery which Collier solved.
Looking at Collier's dreams, I would be tempted to draw the conclusion that in the years 1981-1989, the American people were living in a sort of oblivious peace with little understanding of what the future would hold.
Dream of:01 October 2002 "Catastrophe"
in times of chaos may be
the purpose of lifeMy father and I were visiting New York City. At the moment we were not in the city, but just outside, standing next to a highway and facing the city's towering skyscrapers. As we looked out at the tall buildings, a man walked up and began showing us a piece of cardboard with the outlines of six men drawn on it. The man told us that one of the outlines was that of Ronald Reagan and asked us if we could identify the Reagan outline. I scrutinized the six outlines carefully, trying to determine which one was that of Reagan. When I was finally satisfied which outline was Reagan's, I pointed it out.
As I was looking at the cardboard, I continued glancing in the direction of the skyline in the background until I noticed a particularly large, thick smoke-cloud rising from the buildings. I immediately worried that a terrorist attack might have taken place and that a building was afire. I pointed out the smoke to my father and the man. As the three of us stared in apprehension, a huge wave of smoke encompassed the buildings. I watched in disbelief as the smoke began rapidly moving toward us. Obviously a major catastrophe had occurred - a building had probably collapsed.
We were ready to run when we heard the roar of a jet airplane somewhere nearby. By now the smoke was so close, we could not see the plane, but the sound of the plane was ominous. Suddenly the plane appeared, flying out of the black cloud of smoke. The plane was headed straight toward us and was so low, I was afraid it was going to hit us. Obviously the plane was in a desperate situation. The plane flew over us – only a meter or two over our heads – headed along the highway next to where we were standing. The plane was obviously going to try to land on the highway! However, the plane was headed right into the traffic on the left side, instead of flying along with the trafficon the right side of the highway. I cringed to think of the plane smashing into the oncoming cars; how many people would be killed? I could hardly bear to look. Just as the plane touched down, I turned my head away.
Visions, of course, are quite different from dreams. Dreams are not created by the conscious mind, but by another entity which uses the reservoir of experiences contained in the unconscious mind. I call that entity "God" and I conclude that God designs the scenarios of our dreams.
To say that God may be going further and creating an interlocking story in a series of dreams, however, is more of the nature of talking about a "vision." When one sees the story which exists amongst the connected dreams, one may be seeing a sort of "vision." These may be God-sent visions or they may be simply visions created by the conscious mind.
This story about Ronald Reagan, for example, presents a vision of "divine inspiration," and poses the viability of such a vision. Have I discovered something in this series of dreams which was planted there by God those many years ago, or am I simply inventing this story as I go along?
I can at least vouch that the dreams are as I found them, and I am confident that they are true. If nothing else, Collier wrote truthful and trustworthy dreams.
Dream of:19 April 2011 "Murder Mystery"
history may give
clues to solve the mystery
of life after death
I was with my young friend, Michelle. Although her movements and actions were typical for Michelle, she had black hair and looked more like a svelte version of my ex-wife, Carolina (probably in her mid 20s). We were playing a little detective game which I had just bought. The game was in a slender hardback book and simply involved a description of four suspects from a real-life murder case which had been solved long ago. A picture of each suspect was also provided. After we read each description, we were supposed to chose the suspect which we had concluded had committed the murder. Both Michelle and I astutely chose the correct suspect and we proceeded to the second game. Altogether, the book contained ten different murder mysteries.
The second game seemed more complicated. At first I thought only four suspects were involved, but then it appeared that there were actually ten suspects. As the game started, after perusing the pictures of the suspects, we were able to see a little film clip which seemed to be set in the 1940s during World War II. American soldiers had arrived on the grounds of a magnificent mansion whose gardens were filled with elaborate metal statues of soldiers. As we watched the clip, it seemed as if we were actually sitting in the yard of the mansion, and as the soldiers circulated around us, I specifically noticed Ronald Reagan (around 40 years old), attired in a military uniform, among them.
During the film clip, someone mentioned the name "Pervert," which was the name of someone apparently involved in the murder case. I had never heard of anyone named "Pervert" and I wondered if the English word "pervert" had originated from someone's name.
This game also contained ten little baubles which apparently were pieces of evidence. One looked like a little medallion with the cameo-like image of a king emblazoned on the front. It was so charming, I even thought I could wear it on a necklace. Since it was made of tawdry plastic, however, I knew people would think it ludicrous to be wearing the necklace.
The other pieces of evidence were also intriguing and I reflected how educational the game was. It seemed that a trenchant knowledge of history was going to be required to solve this one. I thought I might have enjoyed playing the game with my father, but since I would know the answer after Michelle and I finished, I knew I would not be able to play it later with him.
As I held the game book in my hand, I unintentionally glanced at the following page and saw the word "Daws." Since "Daws" was the name of one of the ten suspects, I wondered if he was the actual culprit. I did not say anything to Michelle because I did not want to ruin the game. I thought I would be able to remain objective and base my final decision on the evidence, and not on the name I had seen.
In my hand I was holding something which had nothing to do with the game. It was something like a necklace which consisted of little, rice-sized, colored pieces which had been strung together. Michelle (who was now standing) strode up to me and abrasively demanded to know what I was holding and where I had obtained it. I told her I had bought it at the same place I had bought the game book. When she wanted to know why I had bought the thing, I told her I had only paid ten cents for it. She did not seem satisfied with my answer, but she did not say anything else about it.
Michelle, obviously becoming impatient because she thought I was taking too long, began nervously pacing back and forth. She was wearing a long black dress which fell almost all the way to her ankles and looked like something which might have been worn in the 1940s. Actually, the whole atmosphere of where we were seemed like someplace in the 1940s and for some reason, Eleanor Roosevelt passed through my mind.
I told Michelle to calm down, that we were in no hurry. We did not even have to finish the game today. We could play one game a week if we wanted. She seemed somewhat becalmed, although she was still in a hurry to finish the game.
Dreams are special because they are not designed and created by the conscious mind. Dreams are created by a separate entity which uses the memories of experiences which are stored in the unconscious mind. Collier and I both have the same name for that entitity: "God." Thus he believed, and I believe, that dreams are "divinely inspired."
Just as Reagan was a politician, so was Collier a dream-writer. Collier did not merely record his dreams, he presented stories by weaving his dreams together into tapestries.
Asking whether any American president was ever divinely inspired, or any king in the history of time for that matter, is similar to asking whether the stories which Collier created with his collections of dreams were inspired by God.
Dream of:10 June 2015 "Out Of Character"
often an impediment
to true happiness
I have walked into the Riverside Bar on Second Street in Portsmouth, Ohio. I'm unsure what I'm doing here since I do not go to bars and I do not remember having ever been in this one. I just stand inside the doorway until it seems as if the bartender says something about a meal being served. More people walk in and suddenly everyone migrates to the bar on top of which is sitting some booze. When the bartender says, "Hello judge," to one patron on one of the bar-stools, I seem to recall having heard that a judge sometimes visits this bar. I try to look at the judge's face to see who he is, but he does not look familiar to me.
I'm dressed casually in manual-work clothes. As I walk toward an empty stool and take a seat, I hear someone order a steak. The bartender pours me a drink which looks like whiskey, and I start drinking.
A young fellow (probably in his late 20s), dressed in a spiffy, blue sports jacket and tie, walks into the bar and sits down on the stool on my right. He and I converse and he says something about my working for $10 an hour. He implies that I will be working forever at that rate. I say something like, "Well, at least I work for myself."
I do not tell him that I own my own business.
He talks in a self-satisfied way about himself and he mentions his job. I ask him what he does and he says something about "Ronald Reagan's Plan."
Apparently Ronald Reagan authorized two projects, and after speaking with Ronald Reagan, this fellow was awarded one of the projects. Listening to this fellow speak, I think he sounds like a salesman. I simply listen to him talk and I do not say anything.
I have almost finished my drink and I do not want any more. When I notice that the bartender is intending to fill my glass again, I plan on telling him, "No."
Unsure, I start wondering if I already ordered a steak and how much it will cost - perhaps $20. I reflect that the ordering of a steak would be out of character for me.
The fellow talks and talks and talks but he never reaches the real substance of what he actually does. I'm almost ready to remind him that he is supposed to be telling me what he does for a living, but I simply let him continue jabbering.
I can see myself in the large mirror behind the bar. I'm wearing my round green hat. It looks as if I'm also wearing a black tee shirt.
The place has filled up. I've been served a salad on which I munch as I await the main course.
Everyone experiences divine inspiration in dreams. Divine inspiration in waking life, however, does not seem to be so automatic - we must work for such inspiration.
To feel the inspiration God in our work is a reward in and of itself.
At the end of this story, in the eyes of a professional dream writer, the answer to the question of whether Ronald Reagan was a good man or a bad man remains ambiguous.
by Frank Whitfield
15 July 2087
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