Originally published 112823

1996

I considered the dream before reaching for the pad.

That’s when I noticed the people.

??!

The cat in the hallway was bizarre enough (we didn’t have a cat), but this?

The encounter lasts a minute or so. I scrawled some notes in the dark.

In the morning, I fleshed out details.

Documentation helps me remember (and accept) that it really happened.

Plus, writing it down (acknowledging the experience) is the polite thing to do, you know, in this positive-sum game.

“Do you want to know the sex?”

“It’s a girl,” I immediately replied.

Susan’s doc gave me an odd look.

I smiled and didn’t say, “There aren’t any little boys showing up in the visions.”

Back to the People

A friend had asked me to lend moral support as she presented to faculty and peers.

After pondering that vision all the way down 680, I sat near one of my favorite professors.

Lynn, a fabulous painter and inspiring instructor, is also a thoughtful individual with a deep interest in life’s mysteries. She’s not only married to my mentor, Harry, but has become just as important an influence on my critical and artistic thinking.

I had hoped to sit right next to her as I felt a real need to get some feedback, and she’s the only person I know who might be able to shed some light on my little mystery.

Jeff, a mutant grad student, is seated between us. He’s got degrees from two big-name East Coast universities, fabricates animatronic characters for feature films, and is pursuing an MFA. He’s a great guy and a talented artist, but he picked the wrong seat today.

After Jeff and I catch up (the presentation won’t start for a while), I lean forward and ask Lynn if she’s up to sharing some of her wisdom.

“Well,” I begin after she invites me to elaborate, “I’m seeing things.”

As I explain, I notice Jeff (who is grounded in science) slowly lean back in his chair as if to distance himself, genuine concern on his face.

“I opened my eyes and saw people in robes looking back. The room is dark, but I could see them as clearly as I see you now. One by one, they slowly pass over me and through the wall at the head of the bed. The last, a dark-haired woman, paused where the others had not. She looked at me, almost expectantly, some sadness in her smile, but like the others, something in her gaze that I didn’t and still don’t understand. As she passed overhead, I craned my neck to savor the last moment of contact, and a geometric, two-dimensional representation of a face bloomed on the wall. The features are depicted in colorful outlines, but the expression is stern.”

Lynn listens without interruption. She thinks briefly and says, “I’m not sure what to make of the people, but I would take the face as a warning.”

Then Nancy rocked her MFA presentation (and the Q&A).

The following week, Lynn said a friend had suggested I try to initiate a dialogue to learn more.

051325: I just realized that it would have been polite to have said hello. How (inadvertently) rude of me. A classic Level 1 Fail.

The cat appeared on 030496, and the people on the 14th. Additional visions followed on the 21st, 25th, 26th, 30th, and 31st.

Multiple visions began on the 26th.

As did daytime, wide-awake visions.

Fun Fact: Noël was conceived on March 12th (before a rare Tuesday departure—a great story that’s not gonna get told).

Visions occurred every day in April, multiple visions on 19 of the 30 days. (Multiple daily encounters became the norm.)

May: 24 out of 31 days

June: 29 out of 30 days

July: 30 out of 31 days

August: 30 out of 31 days

September and October: Every day

November: 23 out of 30 days

December: 3 days

Had I not recorded the experiences, I doubt that I’d still believe they happened as frequently as they did.

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Context: Curious (and excited), I wandered into SJSU’s art department in the summer of 1991, and ran into Harry. He exuded passion, and Metal Foundry sounded fun, so I signed up for his class. Eight straight semesters. (That’s where I got to know Nancy, Jeff, and other metal heads.)

As for visions, I never managed to elicit (or recognize) any substantive response, much less establish a dialogue. Such variety and beauty, though. I occasionally recorded details in real time as the hyper-realistic imagery unfolded. Visions have continued over the years, though now down to a few times a year.

050124: Laura (an awesome human/art teacher) invited me to the show at Valhalla. One student’s painting stopped me cold. “So, you dreamed that?” Laura tried to clarify. “No,” I said, and then repeated, “I saw that above the bed a few nights ago.” And that stopped the conversation cold. I decided not to mention the much larger version I saw later that day, which, like its smaller sibling, was gracefully undulating (like an aquatic invertebrate) a few feet above the grass in our backyard.

And that’s a perfect example of why this lament (from 013) is so problematic:

I’m tired of masks. I’d rather just be myself.

Context: Being oneself is more complicated than it seems, you know, because manners still matter.

Featured Image: That’s a problem, and these words are my workaround.

Bonus: This was my workaround at the turn of the century:

Uploaded to my personal site (so I could earn my teaching credential with a clear conscience).

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