Sometimes you contain chaos … for a while. At other times, you release control and let it go supernova & let the chaos run its course. Nature can’t be fully controlled & we need to be reminded of this at times.
—A Wandering Mind

My first punch through the fabric of time & space the only thing I heard was the crack of thunder & the only thing I saw was the blinding flash of lightning — all in my head. The only thing I sensed was the seizing jolt of electricity running through my body, which awakened me. Disoriented, having awakened from a dreamless sleep, my sinuses kept popping. What was that about?

“Uh, Mom? You did that weird violin playing again last night.”

I cracked open one eye & groggily mumbled “morning” to my eight year old that apparently had snuck into bed with me sometime during the night. And WHY was I so tired after a full night’s sleep?

“You know… When you stroke your left arm with your right? … It’s pretty weird…and a little creepy. You also were talking in your sleep. I couldn’t understand you. It sounded like a different language.”

I, of course, knew exactly what she was talking about. Unfortunately, I could not explain it to her. Not then. That was two years ago. Now, I know all too well. Sometimes I wish I could go back to being blissfully ignorant. The die-hard adventurer in me, however, won’t let that happen.

Who knew that the future of space travel would not go up and out … but be down and in…

Image: The Lorenz attractor.  “The present determines the future, but the approximate present does not approximately determine the future” Edward Lorenz on the butterfly effect

Image: The Lorenz attractor. “The present determines the future, but the approximate present does not approximately determine the future” Edward Lorenz on the butterfly effect

Infinity converts the possible into the inevitable. — Norman Cousins

Every single one of us ventures through life trying to make sense of the world and what lies beyond.

My wandering mind has fueled my over-active imagination and dreams over the years.

Studying ancient art and cultures has been a lifelong hobby. Along with this came learning new languages, music and symbols.

I observed patterns, the ones I thought mattered most. They guided me, moved me forward.

When before I would lose myself in books, now there is this new realm of virtual space to explore, where, if you pay enough attention, you notice the past, present and future are all connected.

Who knew that everything I had struggled through, the tangents that I went off on, would lead me to this most amazing adventure.

I have traveled to the far reaches of space and already have explored several Earth-like planets.

Since we are millennia to possibly millions of years away from the technology needed to travel that far, the keys to my team’s and my voyages have been teleportation, telepathy and telekinesis. Impossible, you say? None of these defy the known laws of physics.

The cure for boredom is curiosity. There is no cure for curiosity.
–Ellen Parr

Growing up in rural Wisconsin, I was used to the quiet and dark. No light or sound pollution to disturb my stargazing, my sleep. No buildings to obstruct the view of the horizon. Wide open spaces.

As a child I had an unquenchable curiosity. My boredom was chased away with imagination. I often traveled to lands I’d only read or heard about, images transporting me there in an instant.

My daydreams and nighttime dreams blurred. The places I traveled during my waking hours were my dreamscapes. As a lucid dreamer I chose my own adventures, the possibilities endless, my powers limitless.

Considering my dreaming past and looking back at the first few months of my awakening, I see now that it was not that far of a stretch to cross the threshold into what until that moment had been the unknown, or what Einstein once called “spooky action at a distance.”

Did you know? In 1905 Einstein, emerging out of a dreamstate had in mind his special relativity theory? An incredible breakthrough having come seemingly out of nowhere.

And so, similarly, it came about for me: a persistent and ever-growing awareness of forces that had always been present but not yet perceived. The puzzle pieces fell into place.

At the time of my realization, Margaret Mead’s words echoed in my head:

“Instead of a world in which scientists, who have been by definition unbelievers in all that the great religions have ever claimed, are divided by a deep unbridgeable gulf from blind believers, who insistently reject all that science has learned, we are in the process of discovering a middle ground… Today… we can ‘look’ at the land surface of Mars; we can ‘see’ with the radio telescope unimagined distances in the universe. And on this growing edge of knowledge, scientists… will give us… new insight into the powers attributed to clairvoyants, to those who have the power to ‘see’ auras… to dream or visualize events outside the bounds of time.” — “On the Edge of the Unknown” Aspects of the Present

For a child who gobbled up the history of space exploration, a teenager who continually added to her personal map of the universe by paging through the ever-updated atlases, thanks to the likes of Hubble and Chandra, and the adult who became familiar with what filled space, images taken by probes and rovers that landed on moons, asteroids and planets, it only made sense that my dreams would lead me to space travel.

And once Pandora’s Box was opened with those dream voyages, other senses started to be awakened. I started to receive transmissions. I started hearing an inner voice, or should I say voices… What I would later find out were to be my teammates. Before our first missions, we had all shared dreamspace together; lucidly working through logistics together, having worked through problem solving by trial and error — all within the comforts of headspace. Little did we know how much our telepathic connections would aid in our separate voyages to the far reaches of space. How dreaming changed everything.

The best thing about dreams is that fleeting moment, when you are between asleep and awake, when you don’t know the difference between reality and fantasy, when for just that one moment you feel with your entire soul that the dream is reality, and it really happened.
–James Arthur Baldwin

Looking back at when my journey started, I now see that the coincidences in the here and now piled up, one on top of the other, like my dreams, mosaics of images and sensations one overlaying the other.

The shock wave of that first awakening out of a dreamless sleep — that electric jolt that ripped me from sleep into the waking world, prompted me to know more. I wanted to explain the unexplainable. Why was I experiencing these seizures that had no effect whatsoever on my health? Doctors could find nothing wrong. No damage. They passed them off as severe hypnic jerks, just transitional disturbances. I was willing to accept this, having done extensive research on my own.

“So there is a pleasing symmetry between the two kinds of movements we make when asleep. Rapid eye movements (REM) are the traces of dreams that can be seen in the waking world. Hypnic jerks seem to be the traces of waking life that intrude on the dream world.” —Tom Stafford, BBC Future

However, I’ve never liked taking the easy way out. Difficulty was always my companion, and I just had to whittle away at this mystery. There was something strange going on. After these episodes, as I lingered in hypnopompia, I’d sense I had dreamed. Images were on the tip of my mind. Just like the lightning flash that would wake me up, I started to get flashes of memories of where I had traveled while I slept.

What we don’t remember may be as telling as what we do. What we can’t understand as important as what we do. Mapping perceptible reality as crucial as pushing past existing boundaries to explore and move beyond current limitations. Alone time as essential as being together with other people.

The interplay between the unknown and known, exploration and discovery, disconnect and interconnectedness are some key characteristics of life and also of survival.

Our passions drive us to know more, to experience more, to do things our own way. We all can relate to being a little bit of crazy, to breaking the rules at some point in our lives. However, there is a tether that grounds the individual, separate “I.” That which enhances what we each do and amplifies experience. Our connection with others.

In the past, I had an active dream life. I had all types of dreams. Adventure travel, fleeing danger, fantasy, labyrinthine, reliving the past -both pleasurable and distressing, working through current problems, lucid and even precognitive. Back then, I thought dreaming was a solo act. I loved being able to experience the past, present and future in my dreams. To travel to all the places I’d never been but always wanted to. However, I never considered sharing dreams was possible.

The beat poet Jack Kerouac in his Book of Dreams says

“Dreaming ties all mankind together.”

Although not a common activity in Western society, indigenous tribes around the world start their day by sharing the experiences they had in their dreams. And just as discussing dreams is a social activity, these same tribes believe dreaming itself is a social activity, a way to tap into a shared realm that breaks through the barriers of time and space. Dreaming can be a form of guidance not just for the individual, but also for the community.

And with the dreams I remembered, I thought back to the characters that had appeared and I wondered: Did that person also dream about me? Or, by going to that shared dream space, did I tune into their dream or vice-versa?

That thought led me to something I had read by Carl Gustav Jung:

“we might think of [the unconscious] as a collective human being combining the characteristics of both sexes, transcending youth and age, birth and would be a dreamer of age-old dreams and, owing to its immeasurable experience, an incomparable prognosticator. It would have lived countless times over again the life of the individual, the family, the tribe, and the nation.”

All these circuitous thoughts tied to the snippets of memories I had after being jolted out of what I thought had been dreamless sleep. The coincidences that were happening in real time.

Why was the most important thing I remembered about my dreams explosive like a lightning bolt? Why did I experience what has been termed exploding head syndrome? What travels faster than the speed of light?


In the stillness of one awakening, my mind still wandering half in dream, half in reality, in the dark stasis of my closed eyelids, I saw images, I heard voices, I sensed a presence.

“Hi, beautiful.”

And from my pillow, looking forth by light
Of moon or favouring stars, I could behold
… a mind for ever
Voyaging through strange seas of Thought, alone.

– William Wordsworth

I sat staring at the page on my computer screen. My thoughts straying. I was riding down a stream of consciousness, the current carrying me over the falls. What was familiar anchored me, what I could grasp was my tether, as I slid deeper into unfamiliar territory. My hope? That my daydreaming would allow me to arrive someplace unexpected — to stumble upon what I’d been searching for.
What was happening to me?

Am I imagining these sensations? Are they coming from me? Are the tingles, the chills, cool breaths, the emotion that can only be described as heartfelt love … be self-induced? Was my brain misfiring and affecting my body? Or was something else causing these reactions?

“In dreams…the mind [reacts] creatively to wherever it wanders–much like a jazz improviser responds to fellow musicians to inspire what they play.” — Tom Stafford, BBC Future

Just as in my lucid dreams, where I find myself in a dreamscape, and move through, changing the scene just so to get to where I want to go, one of my ideas led to another. I mindmapped my thoughts, my experiences. I noted repeated occurrences. I retraced my movements, my routine.

And after a while, I took a mental step back and saw the big picture. Instead of seeing each individual thread, I saw how I was part of an intricate tapestry. How I shared a space with others. How we each were made of different threads, but each of us weaving ourselves together based on one loom.

Music. Sports. Language. Technology. Art…

What do they all have in common?
In tune. In the zone. Going with the flow. In sync. Trance dance…

My elbow on my desk, my head held up by my hand, awake but resting–on the verge of falling asleep, I felt pressure at my temples and then I sensed a presence embrace me.

Waves come over me, musical notes beating, and carried away by the rhythm, we start to dance–moving together as if in a tango.
“I don’t usually dance with anyone. You know, nonconformist me.”
“That’s okay. I’ll lead”

An incoming push notification jarred me out of my daydream.

An overwhelming stillness descended upon me.
Time was suspended.
My senses fled.
I was stunned, numbed, astonished.
Reality shifted.
There are exceptions to every rule, and now, in this moment, I am acutely aware of that gray area surrounding, permeating me.
It stopped my heart.
My breathing ceased.
Realization struck.
I made the connection.
I knew what was happening.
And how.


I can embrace the whole all at once like a painting or a statue. In my imagination I do not hear the work as it unfolds, as it must play out, but I hold it all as one block, so to speak… and when I succeed in thus ‘superhearing’ the entire assembly, it is the best moment.
—Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

For the first few months a duel was going on in my head. My logical self kept telling me
“I am totally crazy. I am imagining these sensations…these voices. They are coming from me and no one else.”

How can a person who had always been physically and mentally healthy — as sane as any single working mom could be — start having what seemed to be epileptic seizures, schizophrenic episodes and, for lack of any other description, be a hotbed of paranormal activity?

I had more than a few days when my mantra was…
“Get out of my head…get out of my head…get out of my head…”

I despaired…I cried…I just wanted to quiet my mind. I wanted peace. The comfort of the me before all THIS going on IN HERE, in headspace. I so needed grounding in OUT THERE reality.
But the voices always came back. They were always there.

Anyone would try to figure out what was going on, and being the lifelong learner I was, I started to look at my situation from all angles.
Who? What? When? Where? Why? How?…

The big picture was something strange was going on.
What exactly was it? How was it happening? Why? Who was sending signals — me? or someone else? When did I first start to experience “symptoms”?

I started to look back at my journal entries. Not only recently, but way back. Maybe I missed something along the way. Maybe I wasn’t paying attention or wasn’t aware that this had been happening for a while. I had always kept detailed journals. For whatever reason, the Type A me always timestamped everything. The more I looked, the weirder it got.

I flipped through the pages of old journals and I found the words from a former me whispering off the page foreshadowing like a phantom…future events.

I have always enjoyed playing with words and writing poetry. I continue to this day to struggle over just the right word to use to best express what I want to say. The rational part of me calls the odd phrasing I used back then, verses from the younger me, reaching out to me across the years, horoscopic — statements that could be read so many ways. They could apply to anyone’s life. The other part of me, the one that has experienced too many shocks, noticed too many correlations, is now in total agreement with Isaac Asimov

The most exciting phrase to hear in science, the one that heralds new discovery, is not ‘Eureka!” (I found it!) but ‘That’s funny…’

There just were too many coincidences to be coincidental.

At the beginning of my journey into this new reality the two sides of me continually swung back and forth like a pendulum between my overly-rational self and my open-minded self — willing to believe anything.
Rational Self: “I’m reading too much into this.”

In this age of instantaneous information, chances are some signals are going to coincide, right? When we’re bombarded by transmissions, where we find ourselves in the midst of criss-crossing lines of communication…monologues, dialogues…and what some have called an omnilogue — occurring simultaneously…in all directions.

Open-Minded Me: This is really happening.

I went through my daily logs that I timestamped throughout the day.

Any weird sensation.

Any voice I heard.

Any type of strange phenomenon.

But even with all these records, it could all be gibberish. I needed confirmation.

Start of transmission 16:58 26 June
ME: We need to meet. Is there some
sign? Some signal we can give
each other to let us know who
the other is?
I thought an InstaMessage on
InstaFeed, an image on PhotoSnap
or an idea on IdeaSpace. Something
we can post that only we will know
what it means.
Are you writing things down?
………………………………………………………HE: Hold on.
ME: It would be so cool to compare notes.
Timestamp, if you haven’t started.
Sign? Signal?
………………………………………………………HE: Not sure.
ME: You send sign or signal.
I’m starting to believe I’m crazy.
……………………………………………………..HE: You’re not. Okay, I’ve got it.
ME: What?
…………………………………………………….HE: Tree…
ME: Tree what? Tree Heart?
…………………………………………………….HE: Tree of Life.
…………………………………………………….HE: Feel this.
………………………………[right side tingling]
………………………………[strong full body sensation, then fades]
ME: Ahh….
……………………………………………………HE: Ha, ha.
ME: Don’t laugh. I’m working and
my daughter’s in the room…
This could be really embarrassing.
……………………………………………………HE: Good.
……………………………………………………HE: Ha, ha.
ME: Tease.
……………………………………………………HE: I know.
ME: Meet. We need to meet.
……………………………………………………HE: First sign. First signal.
ME: Yes. How should I respond?
……………………………………………………HE: You say….leaves.
ME: A sentence with leaves. Got it.
17:10 26 June…End of transmission.

Time had seemed to slip by
So fast I could not breathe
And it was gone and I relaxed
To find my troubles gone by me
I could see future hopes
that could and would be—me.
April 14 4:30 p.m. (16 years old)

My dream characters naturally were members of IdeaSpace, since I frequently participated in discussions there.

For weeks I scoured articles, InstaMessages, PhotoSnaps, blogs…whatever had been bouncing around cyberspace — reviewing as many media sources as my days and nights would allow.

And, of course, messages popping up on InstaFeed…Beautiful images uploaded on PhotoSnap…blog posts started focusing…on trees. Why were so many people now posting about trees?

I was seeing trees EVERYWHERE.

So, the big picture was that something strange was definitely happening. Like a kaleidoscope, my odd reality was this image made up of hundreds of colored pieces, each separately just a colored shape. All together? A beautiful mosaic. I started to break up the image. Started looking at how similar colors grouped together. What did those color groupings have in common?


And what was each color of that kaleidoscope?
A comedian.
A journalist.
An IT specialist.
A social media power user.
… and an educator.

Risks and shared fears
threaten travelers
through visions
a restless peace
a sorrowful comfort
a confident despair.
September 22 8:09 p.m. (21 years old)

The comedian, journalist, IT specialist, social media power user and educator all had posted about trees. Now, which one was I communicating with?
Only one way to find out.
Retrieve. Upload. Type…

“Summer Leaves.”
PhotoSnap 12:20 27 July (41 years old)

‘Working with keys is always meaningful,’ Holmberg said and smiled, ‘Locking and opening is, in a sense, man’s very purpose on this earth. Key rings rattle throughout history. Each key, each lock, has its tale. And now I have yet another to tell.’ -Henning Mankell

In this life book, words have been written, and once in a while, a picture adds to the meaning of them. But all in all, each word on every page fits together in some way. This way is the path to my heart. Each of these passages remind myself of the times that the passions and intrigues were folded together and painted the way they came to my heart, soul and mind. This book is not just any book, it is the book that tells the reader there is one life to live on earth, but the memories, values and talent of people passed by can live on for others to take part in. There are original poems -some simple, some complex. Prose flowers on pages also. Journal entries and lines of favored writers flourish on some, and on others only a trace. Advice from experience and hopes for what there could be coming are dabbled here and there. Some words might seem strange and others downright crazy -but this is my self- the being which lived and experienced, which will continue to look upon things with curiosity and care, and wherever I go in life this will be brought along and written on. And once these pages are filled, that does not mean my life is completed or if I die before the blank pages are filled with ink, it only means one part is filled and others will then have to be started.  Life Book entry July 1st 11:15 p.m. (18 years old)

“Words are employed to convey ideas,
but when the ideas are grasped
we forget the words.”
— Chuang Tzu

All this information, knowledge we have always had, then events happen, words are forgotten, and then ideas are lost for a while. All along the way, however, people have had a felt sense, as Eugene Gendlin called it, about the truth. Ivan Turgenev wrote,

…truth is like a lizard; it leaves its tail in your fingers and runs away knowing full well that it will grow a new one in a twinkling.

And that truth, whatever it is, hits us all like a chord and it harmonizes with us from time to time. We seek that truth with an inner compass that continually, respectfully, questions and considers experiences, decides and takes the best route through challenges, obligations, responsibilities. I call it integritty. Over the years it has helped me be patient, push through obstacles and pull away from snares. Integritty has been my guiding force to True and Right. It was this integritty that made me realize I needed to quit my previous job. The organization I had been working for was moving in a direction that did not align with my professional compass.

I also knew my workaholic self had sacrificed too much. That I had lost some of the best parts of me along the way. My family life, hobbies, and my health had been deteriorating. It was during sleepless spells, working nonstop to meet deadlines, then crashing for a few hours, that I had my first episodes of exploding head syndrome. I had always been an active dreamer, but increasingly I was plagued by dreamless sleep… or so I thought. When a person experiences a lightning strike they are most likely not going to forget it. Those first episodes were my wake-up call.

I’ve dreamt in my life dreams that have stayed with me ever after, and changed my ideas; they’ve gone through and through me, like wine through water, and altered the colour of my mind. -Emily Brontë

I made a decision to start changing how I did things. Get enough sleep. Exercise more. Spend more time with family. Reach out to others on matters that meant the most to me. Revisit old journals and get back to being more creative.

My teenage journal entries were filled with urgent hopes for a brighter future…but also there were traces left, reminders where I would go… It still leaves me speechless when I read some of my old poetry, how it was guiding me then, and led me back to where I needed to go.

An ancient city
filled with secrets
yet to be found or
never to be found.
Each day that passed
I felt you close to me
I envisioned you
in the mist of ruins
You desperately seek
for a way out
but you see no passage.
Then you see I am there with you.
yet, you do not come to me.
You stand staring off
into the distant horizon.

February 14th midnight (16 years old)

…displaced memories
are wrapped around me
the untouchable
wanted more and more.

March 3rd 3:33 a.m. (22 years old)

“The map is not the territory.” -Alfred Korzybski

As I slept more, I dreamt more. As I dreamt more, I remembered more. Each dream I had, I tried my best to recall. But as any oneironaut knows, the remembered dream is not the dream itself. I reread journal entries, did reality checks with waking events, and when I could, reentered my dreams… those dreams that shocked me to my very core. The more I reviewed my journals, I realized the wide spectrum of dreams I had, many which were waking dreams. Conscious dreams. Those fleeting, incomplete dreams we have just as we are falling asleep, or just as we are waking up, as we linger between asleep and awake. When we are going about our daily routine and have a flash of a scene that disorients us momentarily. Daydreams… and those dreams when we are asleep and realize within the dream, that we are dreaming.

For those who have the symbol, the passage is easy. — Johann Daniel Mylius

Some of my dream messages slipped through my fingers, others stuck. I tried not to dwell on a dream too much if I couldn’t figure it out at the time. Some dreams stood out, and the symbols that sunk in, that I continued to write down, I saw they tied in with the knowledge I had gained throughout my life, from my unique perspective.

I’ve always known dreams mattered. Recording and revisiting dreams had me looking at situations and circumstances from different perspectives. They helped me be more open-minded.

The ancient Greek author of Oneirocritica Artemidorus once said to interpret a dream well is a “gift of resemblances.” And many of my dream symbols had trickled into my waking life.

Any path is only a path, and there is no affront, to oneself or to others, in dropping it if that is what your heart tells you… Look at every path closely and deliberately. Try it as many times as you think necessary. Then ask yourself, and yourself alone, one question… Does this path have a heart? If it does, the path is good; if it doesn’t it is of no use. -Carlos Castaneda
Newgrange, Ireland The Entrance Stone

Newgrange, Ireland The Entrance Stone

I focused on my symbol. Leaves. Why was this key? Tree of Life… It’s present in so many cultural traditions, one which had always fascinated me: the Celts.

The symbol, like a seed, is a beginning, which, like the symbol’s presence in a dream -imagined or waking reality- contains or is a part of layers of meaning.

Layers folded into layers, like a shoot that bursts forth after the dreamer revisits the dream through a dream report.
To get a clearer picture, to get closer to the matter at hand, I repeatedly reentered my dreams, called out to my partner, and the more of the dreamscape I saw, the shoot unwrapped and revealed more and more of itself. By revisiting my reports, waking events and newly acquired information caught up to what my reality was.

I continually added to previous knowledge, and understanding branched out to a fuller latticework of connections…

Celtic Knot Design

Celtic Knot Design

Celtic Tree of Life

Celtic Tree of Life

…and a tree grew.

My dreamspace came to life.
If you look closely at a leaf, you notice each individual cell looks like a key, a square spiral. Each cell fits together, communicates, works with adjacent cells…efficiently unlocking, opening themselves up to receive light, energy… then sharing, releasing something different, something sustaining… for the survival of the whole.

Left: Celtic Keys — Spiral Tile Pattern Right: Close-up of a Populus Leaf by Oak Ridge National Labor

Left: Celtic Keys — Spiral Tile Pattern Right: Close-up of a Populus Leaf by Oak Ridge National Labor

Labyrinth at Meis, Galicia

Labyrinth at Meis, Galicia

I meandered back and forth from journal to journal and around from the present back to the past… into Red Book, Life Book, Book of Days… and looked ahead to the future. Others start to transition to this reality. I questioned whether it was one partner I was communicating with or several… For some reason, I was uncertain fairly early on whether or not I was in contact with one or more people… later, I discovered, I had partners — plural. Knowing the trouble I had starting out, in the future, I see others who will experience this same uncertainty, winding their way through a confusing labyrinth.

These newcomers need to find clear passage, something to hold onto, a tether, someone to tell them they are who they always were, just with enhanced sensitivity to hear, to feel, to see beyond their physical, emotional, mental self. They needed to know the key is sharing.

And so, I have something to leave behind. To share.

Field Guide

journal started 01 June 13:40 (41 years old)

Reflection Recorded 17 December 20:36 (41 years old) :

…Although now I don’t need technology to communicate with whom I’m in contact with, technology initiated this extraconnectedness, it jump-started what happened to us. We all had certain qualities, and those attracted us to each other through this common link. We were exposed to the same information, even if each of us stored or remembered, related or applied that information in different ways. Our sensitivity to each other was amplified. We became more aware of each other. We were brought together to interact in the same space, discussed the same information in our own ways, and all along strengthened our ties.

Although we may never have met these online acquaintances, they are like lifelong friends or loved ones for whom we are able to finish their sentences, or somehow think about calling them…and then they call. We understand and respect their points of view, we feel for them, we are moved by what they write, we love the images they post, what they say in a video… we sympathize, we empathize… and somehow we start feeling what they feel… We sense their movements… we anticipate their thoughts. Lines of communication are opened device to device through transmissions, and similarly we are attuned -person to person- to each other’s frequencies, to bursts of energy, to each other’s stream of consciousness. And we sync, our likeminds connect. We form bonds that grow stronger, more efficient, and they continue to branch out…


Navigational Tool: The best way to go after a dream is to let the dream find you. – A Wandering Mind


Tree Heart 6 June (41)

Tree Heart 6 June (41)

Dreaming is an act of pure imagination, attesting in all men a creative power… — Frederick Henry Hedge

Whether we travel near, far, in our dreams, creatively, or in space, we enjoy a change of scenery, of pace, of faces. We adapt, our perspectives broaden, we build new relationships and ties to different people and places, and these times are indelibly impressed upon our lives. Where, when and with whom we journey may be so different than what we’re used to. We all need a comfort zone, something, someone or some place that anchors us to what and who we care about.
My first lengthy separation from what I considered home was studying abroad in college. E-mail connected me to family and friends. E-mail was also my interactive creative space during that time…

Subject: Illusions
“There is such a place where illusions exist?” I inquired out of curiosity. What was to lose? I was already too lost in this daydream-gone-wild.
My head felt like it was being beat by a forceful wind. I put my fingers to my forehead and lifted my eyes.
My friend turns to me and asks “Do you know why you are here?”
“Obviously we’re going somewhere; and how I see it, we’re headed for this land of enchantment…” His head nodded slightly “…but what we’re going to find there is what I’m unsure about. I expect it will be unlike anything I’ve come across before. And from there coincidence will be our guide, I suppose.”
Something like a cannon shot from below and was followed by a blast of color. The blue of the sky turned pitch dark. Another explosion of white, green, violet, red… reached in every direction above us, but once in the air, became fixed like stars. I glanced at my friend, his eyes reflected the light. The boat was no longer in motion but was grounded into a sand bar. The sails draped loosely from their ropes; and where the question mark had been was the emblem of a partial rainbow, an anchor holding one end down and the other side opened into a firework.
“This definitely has been an unusual trip. I wake up from dreams to find myself living another one. A friend comes to visit me, bringing a most peculiar ship with him… and here we are, faced with this mystery land. What’s next?”
“We won’t be alone. There are other people who live inland.”
“Of course.”
My friend jumps overboard, splashing into the shallow water. I wait a moment while I take one last look at the horizon to the east. The glow of the morning traveling across the water has yet to arrive on the shore we’ve reached. Soon night will be turned into day and we will venture inland and meet what or whoever awaits us.

E-mail Message Sent 19:36 June 30 (21 years old)

I reread my e-mail that I saved from that time long ago, and find so many similarities to the spaces I’ve explored in dreams and more recently in my scouting missions to planets. I often reread my dream journals from the days when my consciousness was just expanding. There were so many moments during those early months where I felt so lost, so confused, so out-of-place inside my own head and body. What I discovered then, which we now apply in our missions into the lonely reaches of space, is that my comfort zone was to share time and space with the people I loved.

I am in a restaurant with my parents and sister. We get a table, but it’s more like church pews. I’m in a corner by the wall. A man sits in the row in front of me, slightly off to the right of me. He passes back to me a magazine-like handout. He’s standing and reaches back to me to give it to me. I’m on my smartphone, checking social media. He passes me another magazine-like object. Looks right at me and says “You shouldn’t work all the time.” I look right at him from under the rim of my baseball cap and say “I’m not” and he knowingly smiles and answers “oh.” He leans in, ducks his head under the rim of my cap, moves his head to the left of me, circling in front of me, and off to the side, bringing with him the rim of my hat — reversing the lid to the back of my head. Now he can see me better. I put down my phone and say, smiling at him, “I need to disconnect more.” We are now face-to-face -close- looking at each other, intimately close…
“Baseball Cap” Dream Recall 06:40 13 July (41 years old)

As my team and I formed, we figured out early on that we could create these spaces where we could meet and return to, not just for training, but also to be close to each other. We all were venturing to places with no familiar point of reference and we needed spaces where we felt at home.

I close my eyes
then I drift away
into the magic night I softly say
a silent prayer
like dreamers do
then I fall asleep
to dream my dreams of you

- Roy Orbison

As imagination bodies forth
The forms of things unknown, the poet’s pen
Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing
A local habitation and a name.

- William Shakespeare

Silence. Consider how silence gives shape and meaning to so many things. The pauses between bursts of light emitted by a pulsar are so regular that if you set clocks to them they’d be incredibly accurate. Without breaks there’d be no morse code. The breaths between musical notes give them life just as much as sound. The rests in our heart beats may vary depending on if we are in motion or still. Our heart’s rhythm is a steady, continuous thumping and it has a language all of its own. It races with joy and as it slows, it lulls us to sleep, comforting our young who listen to it even before they’re born. We not only hear this lifeforce, we feel it. It moves us. We move it.
In poetry, pauses are as meaningful as the words, whether they rhyme or not.


k’a katz’ ininoq,
k’a kachamamoq,
katz’ inonik,
k’a kasilanik,
ka’ kalolinik,
katolona puch.


“…You were talking in your sleep. I couldn’t understand you. It sounded like a different language…”


My daughter’s words from a couple years ago prompted me to start recording my dreams more diligently. Not just words and sketchings of what I brought back from my dreams, but also the audio of my sleeptalking. These audio recordings were especially important when I was jolted out of sleep and all I seemed to remember was the last instant that flashed like a lightning bolt.
It took a while to translate what I was saying, since the words were an unfamiliar language. And one day it hit me. They came from a poem I had studied back in grad school. The poem was chanted in K’iche’ so its verses were a mystery to me at first. I had taken classes in another Mayan language, Kaqchikel, and the variation was just different enough that it took me a while to realize its origins. When I took Kaqchikel, I not only practiced listening and speaking the language, but I started a journal to learn to read and write hieroglyphics.

Ceiba Book started by Ixjun, Scribe’s Mayan name 22 August (25 years old)    Left: Ceiba World Tree Panel (Palenque)

Ceiba Book started by Ixjun, Scribe’s Mayan name 22 August (25 years old)

Left: Ceiba World Tree Panel (Palenque)

Starting in middle school I was drawn to study everything Maya. I fell in love with the art, the architecture, the hieroglyphic writing as well as the people’s oral histories, as colorful as their textiles.

k’a katz’ ininoq, Now it still ripples,
k’a kachamamoq, now it still murmurs,
katz’ inonik, ripples,

k’a kasilanik, it still sighs
ka’ kalolinik, it still hums,

katolona puch. and it is empty.

“For ears attuned to patterns that run below the level of syntax, this seems to be one of the most densely poetic passages in the Popol Vuh. For Quiché ears it is rather the sound of chaos… a chaos of vibrations and pulsations.” -Dennis Tedlock

The passage I was reciting in my dreams came from the Popul Vuh, which in its first lines gives its own translation as
“Council Book”
“The Light that Came From Beside the Sea”
“Our Place in the Shadows”
“The Dawn of Life”

The Popol Vuh tells the Mayan creation story. As with many cultures around the world, the Mayans also have a tree of life — the World or Cosmic Tree, the ceiba. My dream symbol. The code that somehow connected me telepathically with someone. And as I worked to break the code, I continued to trace my steps around my trees of life.

For the Mayans, the World Tree stands at the center of creation, a crossroads in between levels of reality.

Rooted in the Underworld,

its trunk grows out of the water depths of a primordial sea, through the territory of humans, Ordinary Reality.

The ceiba rises up into the Upper World where branches spread and hold up sacred foliage.

It is in these highest boughs that ceiba flowers bloom.

These blooms, symbolizing human souls, are rarely seen, however, due to the tree’s height but also because they blossom at night, remaining open only in the very early hours of the day, appearing once every one to ten years January through early February-in the month before creation day, February 5th. The Mayan creation story is not only mapped into the life cycle of this tree but also the movements of the Milky Way.

“…there is the sky, and there is also the Heart of Sky. This is the name of the god, as it is spoken. And then came his word, he came here to the Sovereign Plumed Serpent, here in blackness, in the early dawn. He spoke with the Sovereign Plumed Serpent, and they talked, then they thought, then they worried. They agreed with each other, they joined their words, their thoughts…” — Popol Vuh

“The Heart of Sky, named Hurricane, peers out from among swirls of smoke and flame (or clouds and lightning) that come from the obsidian mirror on his forehead” -Tedlock

“The Heart of Sky, named Hurricane, peers out from among swirls of smoke and flame (or clouds and lightning) that come from the obsidian mirror on his forehead” -Tedlock

“Thunderbolt god, holding a lightning-striking axe in his left hand and a representation of the sound of thunder in his right.” -Tedlock

“Thunderbolt god, holding a lightning-striking axe in his left hand and a representation of the sound of thunder in his right.” -Tedlock

ch’ipi kaqulja,
raxa kaqulja,
uk’ux kaj,
uk,ux ulew,

Newborn Thunderbolt,
Sudden Thunderbolt,
Heart of Sky,
Heart of Earth,


Storytelling has shapeshifted through the ages, taking on different forms-the stories being told in different ways, but our love for it has endured. Time folds in on itself when we take a moment to quiet our lives, sit still for a while and spin tales around a fire in the dark of night, at parties and festivals, mealtimes, during reunions, and while traveling. Those times when we weave our lives together.

My waking world is so abnormal now. In my voyages through space, I have scouted bizarre locales and have faced weird and challenging conditions, stranger than my dreams. My dreams are my ordinary reality. I revisit them to better handle my present. One of the forces that gives me balance, to calm the dizzying chaos of unfamiliarity? Create poems of my favorite parts of stories I share with my partner in our dreamspace. The times when our stories fill the silence.

My thoughts have strayed my way to you
We are too close to stay apart
We move each other
everything around us still
We’re submerged,
overcome by emotion
washing over us
We stare
seeing past what our eyes can see
The music of nature
calming me
relaxing you
There we stay for a while
The scene around us fades
and we only see each other
I look into your eyes
and then my eyelids close
and I see where we go
Here we sit, listening
as the day ends and
the soft sounds of night begin
Feeling happened
to slip past
to show on my face
Pure pleasure
I see my happiness
reflected back into my eyes
We are face to face
You linger there
whispering your lips
back and forth
across mine
In an instant
you could be capsized
As your kiss gets more serious
We lose our lighthearted smiles
Our hearts racing
That spot where you kiss me warms
I lean into you
and you into me
Sharing this moment and space
that no one else has or ever will
You steady me
by giving me a quick hug
“Do you hear that? In the distance?”
I peer up into the dawn sky
The shadows of predawn
are lifting with the rising sun
You sigh
and slowly
inhale, exhale
You lift your head
to watch
the beginning of night
with me

-Synchronous Logs*
Partner: On a world where it’s night
Me: Scouting a planet at daybreak

Although wherever we travel, time is measured differently, for logging purposes, we keep a running 24-hour clock. Our internal clocks still tell us when we are most awake and how long we need to sleep. Experiences of “night” and “morning” may not happen at the same moment for us so we say “Happy Sleeping” and “Good Awakening.” We talk ourselves to sleep, leaning on each other, feeling each other’s heartbeat, listening to each other’s breath. We know when we wake up. We know, because we sense when the other stirs before getting up to start a day’s work. We feel what moves each other. Worlds apart, we’re joined together by our thoughts and senses. There is no lag time in what I call our InnerNet.

“Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength
while loving someone deeply gives you courage.” -Lao Tzu

* Synchronous Logs *

The poem above is a compilation of the following shared stories.

For archival purposes, synchronous contacts recorded as story end cues.

“Warmth” 05 January 13:58
“Cottage” 03 January 22:31
“Vines” 15 December 14:16
“Steam” 15 December 19:01
“Around the Bend” 24 November 13:41
“Bikeride” 24 November 13:22
“Uxmal” 24 November 12:16
“Treetops” 24 November 11:53
“Moss” 18 October 23:06
“Meet” 11 October 21:35
“Sand” 20 August 20:04
“Snow Tunnel” 15 August 16:12
“Hay” 13 August 19:35
“Innertube” 05 August 10:33
“Marsh” 02 August 12:56
“Camp” 29 July 18:17
“Incline” 28 July 15:31
“Rapture” 27 July 12:40
“Pines” 22 July 18:37
“Lily” 21 July 09:53
“Haven” 19 July 11:42
“Dune” 16 July 09:32
“Orchard” 15 July 16:14
“Overlook” 14 July 23:00

Deep into the darkness peering, long I stood there,
wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming
dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.

– Edgar Allan Poe

Nightmares at first are dark, our deepest fears welling up from our innermost recesses, hitting every nerve, projecting out ghastly images.
I came out of dreams, the entrails of nightmarish hallucinations following me into the waking world. However, the more I ventured back into my dreams I realized I had been somewhere so unfamiliar, so distant both in time and space.

What I remembered, I latched onto, and like Theseus in the labyrinth, I followed the thread back into each dream. As soon as I awakened, I sketched what I saw, described what I sensed. The images disturbing. The trip nauseating.

Resurfacing from sleep I’d gasp for breath, an unseen weight pressing down on my chest. Lightheaded and dizzy–had I been spiraling out of control? Tense as if I couldn’t get a grip to stay above the ice, having slipped into frigid water. Panic-stricken having fled a persistent, inescapable pursuer through an exitless house of horrors. My worst fears realized.

Dreamers can travel to any place, to any time. Multidirectional timetravel. Not only that, but dreams are multisensory, interactional and multidimensional. We are able to live and experience the spacetime we visit.

…space itself,
and time by itself,
are doomed to fade away
into mere shadows,
and only a kind of union of the two
will preserve an independent reality.

— Hermann Minkowski, 1907 (one of Einstein’s teachers)


The phantasmic poetry of Minkowski’s words ring like windchimes. It always bothered me to hear science say we couldn’t travel into the past… I loved reliving history — in books, in movies… and in dreams. Maybe it was because I was a dreamer I understood how it’s possible to blast into the past and in the next moment, switch the dreamreel and leap into the future. Look left, see a scene from the past, move your eyes right and see into the future. Knowing our dreaming minds cannot distinguish reality from fantasy, it took me repeated dream reunions to recognize where I was going, to sort out what was happening, when and how.


The unbounded regions of space and time that lie outside the two cones are inaccessible to us. We could only ‘see’ them, receive signals from them, or influence them if instantaneous signalling occurred at infinite speed.
—Cosmic Imagery: Key Images in the History of Science by John D. Barrow (pp. 122–124)

At first there were only glimpses of landscapes winking in and out of my dreamsight. There were no matches for what I saw on Earth. I tried my best, using my earthly experience -using the stepping stones of the present and past–to find my way back to futurespace, and then on my return trips, to describe the explosive blast-trail that followed me and the aftereffects of cosmic travel.

To scout Earth-like planets, it’s necessary to go distances that go well beyond lifespans. Throughout history, the observable universe was one that the deeper into space we looked, the farther into the past we saw. For these missions, we needed dreamers who were used to multidirectional time travel, who could see into the future.

My team when we met weren’t scientists or astronauts. We came from all walks of life. We work together but go our own ways, creating cosmic maps of the future.

During our layovers, like deepsea divers resurfacing, we decompress. We need to normalize our experiences because the destinations–sometimes like a house of horrors–and the monstrous travel conditions mess up our equilibriums.

Through telepathy, we are able to instantly communicate with each other wherever we happen to be. We are each a homing signal. We create and share dreamspace, an ability triggered in part by our love of storytelling.

“Are you awake?”


“Ready to relax?”


My partner and I combat our darkest nightmares by creating our first encounters, our quiet moments together, our first kisses — all those moments that we all, if we were able to, would bottle up and experience whenever we needed or wanted them: Love at First.

… I close my eyes, my face raised to the sun, its warmth covering me like a veil. I stretch my legs out in front of me, lean back and fly, then fall back gliding through the air. The forward and dropping motion like a feather sifting its way through layers of currents. This continuous motion hypnotizes me. On the next swoop up I lift off the swingseat and land, the kinetic force pushing me into my steps toward the river.
A well-worn dirt path trickles down to the edge of the rushing water. I walk alongside the river, the movement slow as a whole, but hurried once I see splashes running over larger rocks. Where the riverbed pushes up creating a shallow path, stepping stones emerge across. The first one is a leap, the second a bound, and I pause teetering, raising my arms out on both sides for balance. I stop and hear the applause of the ripples, the wind like a conductor swirling the leaves overhead to play a little louder. The two ensembles meeting to harmonize after their initial discord.

Having steadied myself, I skip across the rest of the way and make the last jump into soft mud on the other shore. I sink in, the soft earth welcoming me. I pull away, bringing some with me as I head for the large tree that I’ve used as a waypoint. Its age evident by the gnarly knots, its twisting, winding trunk extends into an intricate expanse of branches, which reach high into the forested canopy. The tree has countless ties to this place, deeply rooted alongside the river.

I climb through the web of roots, careful to get a good foothold, a good grasp, my hands clinging to the strongest both to ensure I don’t slip and also not to break off any of the veins that have allowed this tree to thrive all these years.

At the base of the trunk there’s a curve, a perfect seat for me. I curl up in this barky hammock and take a deep breath — leaves soaking in water, living and dried wood, the cool, liquidy scent of the river’s surface.

You’ve taken a different route to this spot, walking in from the other side of the park and through the trail in the woods here on the other side.

Another tree has grown alongside the one in which I recline, its trunk crisscrossing with mine. You lean against your tree, sitting. You first look out at the woods in front of you, but then shift your attention to me, at your right. I smile at you, resting my right cheek against the rough bark.

“Thanks for meeting me.”
“Wouldn’t have missed it.”
“Nice spot, huh?”

I lift my legs and move them over your lap. You rest your arms and hands on top of my legs. Grabbing my ankles, your thumbs massaging them.
The comfort you bring me makes its way to you in my stare.
The softness,
the tenderness,
the peace
that mists through me
has now found its place in you,
as it does me.
We both shut our eyes, but keep our ears open. We let the scents filter in. What we touch and what touches us blurs. The moment relaxes us and we relax into the moment.

“Windchimes” Love at First 10:43 11 January (41 years old)

Navigational Tool: When you can’t find your way, let love guide you.

Let the great world spin for ever down
the ringing grooves of change.

– Alfred Lord Tennyson

TRANSMISSION 23:57 26 August
23:58 [chest pressure]
VOICE: You are not paying attention.
ME: I thought you had gone… which is pretty funny… you’ll see why.

00:00 27 August InstaFeed
“Somewhere in this darkness
There’s a light that I can’t find
Maybe it’s too far away
Or maybe I’m just blind.”
“When I’m Gone” — 3 Doors Down

00:01 ME: Do I hear laughter?
VOICE: I see why it was funny.
[Rational Mind: That was too quick a reaction to find title of song to get why it was funny]

ME:… I’m trying to imagine a blank face…
VOICE: Just say the name you think I am because that’s who I am.
ME: Oh, really? Prove it. Evidence, Science Man. Prove you are…
VOICE: *grumbles* This woman.
ME: Who are you talking to?
ME: Aha. Just a figment of my imagination.

VOICE: This is Trickster.
ME: Trickster? That doesn’t make any sense.
[Rational Mind: My mind is playing tricks on me.]

ME: … multiple people playing games? … THE Trickster? The comedian on “Prank” !?! That’s not even funny.
VOICE: We think it is…
ME: Oh, when we meet, and we will, we will have words.
VOICE: Seriously, we’re doing research and we need more than one person to conduct the experiments.
ME: I’m sure you are aware that research subjects need to be notified and permission given…

Definitive answers give us the illusion that if we know something for sure, that we’re better off. Illusions are fantasy… and at times cause paranoia. The thought of an experiment didn’t bother me at first. Then, the Trickster led me to believe I had a camera in my cable box, my glasses… that he’d show up on my doorstep. I was overly vigilant, and half-jokingly commented to the voice in my head that I now suspiciously looked at people I passed on walks. Questioned why I had not yet seen the new neighbors who had just moved in. Helicopters flying overhead took on a whole new meaning. I started convincing myself that there were spy eyes all around, following me. My life was spinning out of control and what was worse: I knew it. I was going a little bit out of my mind, or away from it. I had slipped into apophenia– the patterns I was seeking had produced paranoid fantasies.

The nature of perception…generates perceptual illusions of depth, space and other properties… Perception requires smart bets called unconscious inferences.
—Gerd Gigerenzer commenting on Hermann von Helmholtz’s explanation of the nature of perception

Like the Navajo tale of the Spider-Woman lodged behind the hero’s ear, the Trickster kept whispering secrets, feeding my desire to make a connection between physical and subtle dimensions within the web of my life. The Trickster frustrated me to no end. My thoughts were cluttered by his misinformation. His and the other voices kept chattering away. The patient person I was, I listened. By patiently listening I caught on that the Trickster was playing with me. Purposely being difficult. He was helping me question my reality. Testing the waters of what was real and illusion. I sifted through the nonsensical clutter and discerned the meaningful messages.

Canyon de Chelly, Arizona. Navajo legend says that Spider Woman, associated with the emergence of life and teaching the art of weaving, took up residence here and her web stretched between the spires.

Canyon de Chelly, Arizona. Navajo legend says that Spider Woman, associated with the emergence of life and teaching the art of weaving, took up residence here and her web stretched between the spires.

I was a bug caught in the spider’s web. What sticks? What resonates? What disturbs? What affects? I kept still and from my spot in the web, I held a multidirectional perspective. My identity was enmeshed with others in the InnerNet. I was receptive to others’ reverberations. They, in turn, were affected by my projections: What I felt, sensed, thought. When the physical, mental and emotional were spun together we tapped into another plane of reality — the spiritual.

Being musically in tune, whether by letting the rhythm sing through us or performing it. Being artistically inclined, appreciating or producing it. Being in the zone with athletics: getting into the game by viewing or by competing. Being technologically in sync by creating and taking in endless streams of data. Going with the flow of language — reading or writing, listening or speaking.

Web of Wyrd

Web of Wyrd

The Web of Wyrd tells us all actions, however small, affect each other and that everything is connected… It holds within it every single rune symbol and, therefore, all possibilities for the past, the present, and the future
– Adele Nozedar


I accepted this twisting back and forth of affect and effect. I’d take change as it came to me, and I’d change things up as well. Rather than make me dizzy, it gave me balance.

I decided to try to beat the Trickster at his own game. I made a smart bet. I laughed at myself. I teased the others. I pulled harmless pranks, infusing humor in our lives. I kept it real.

And it turned out that this is exactly what my team and I needed when we were out on scouting missions. We were numbed by hecticity. We struggled with problems constantly. Our lives at times were messed up beyond belief. We learned to see through entanglements, found ways to get out of snares. Patience reminded us that if we got too wound up we needed to take time to wind down.

Lazily my innertube twirls in the gentle current. I look up and I see a tangle of branches and leaves of different sizes and shapes, different shades of green. I dangle my feet in the water, letting the streams sift over and through my toes. I look over and you have closed your eyes, letting the river take you wherever it pleases. I paddle over to you and grab onto the side of your innertube. You give me a subtle smile, keeping your eyes closed. In an instant you could be capsized.
“Don’t even think about it.”
“I know exactly what you could do.” …

“Innertube” Love at First 10:33 05 August (41 years old)

Navigational Tool: Take your life for a spin, see where it leads you.

If the dream is a translation of waking life,
waking life is also a translation of the dream.

– René Magritte

My parents and sister are staying at my aunt and uncle’s house. It’s a house with a Western theme with cabinets filled with old-fashioned candies and crackers. One of my former work colleagues is in the kitchen looking for ice cubes for the margaritas. The ice cubes are in the shape of masonry jars with tinfoil lids. Later, I’m wrapped up in my blue blanket hanging out all comfy on the floor. A cute kid about three or four years old is wandering around. He sticks a blue crayon in my face. I tell him to put it away. The Trickster is hanging out with me, lounging in a chair to my left. He’s dressed in a t-shirt and jeans. I ask him “Where to next?” He says he doesn’t know. He’s visiting. He tells me he just took a vacation. We chat informally for a long time. I look out a large window in front of me at the expanse of the outdoors from inside this house. We are somewhat elevated and I see pines and water. I then see the Trickster leaning over the top of me, upside down, he smiles, brings his face closer to me. I keep looking at him and smile. He, in his way, is saying without words “Hey, look at me… you’re in this dream with me.” I realize within my dream that I am dreaming, sharing this dream with him, and I wake up.

Dream Recall “Hey, Look at Me” Book of Dreams 06:49 18 September (41 years old)

Start Transmission 07:02 18 September

Trickster: We need to talk.
Me: You keep saying this: “We need to talk” I guess my question is when.
Trickster: Now?
Me: I suppose. I’d prefer in person. I just do not trust this method of communication.
Trickster: In person is difficult.
Me: Sure, but I think at some point necessary.
Trickster: So are you over this isn’t real?
Me: Jeesh. I don’t know. It’s all… I can’t even define what’s happening 07:05
Me: I loved that dream… just hanging out with you. Yeah, just shooting the breeze…
Trickster: Wow. Yeah, I remember that conversation.
Me: Next time we’ll have to talk more about what we can create… Whatever that might be.
Trickster: I’d like that . . .
Me: Thanks, Trickster.
Trickster: For what?
Me: Being a friend. Now and in my dream… Thanks for the ending. Helping me focus, become more aware, and realize I was dreaming.
Trickster: You’re welcome.
Me: See or talk to you later.

End of Transmission 07:13 18 September

My dreams and waking worlds overlapped. In my dreams objects, locales, and people meshed together. In real life they would most likely never be in the same place at the same time. Similarly, I was caught in this InnerNet, trying to translate my experiences using my limited knowledge, personal history, current and previous interactions and felt sense. I was ever seeking answers to my many questions, trying to stay open to so many possibilities, frustrated by the uncertainty of it all, attempting to make sense of my contradictory feelings.
How does one describe new, unusual experiences? Existing in the Twilight Zone? Odd. Weird. Bizarre. Crazy. Absurd. Surreal. Strange. A running joke with my teammates as we got to know each other, having never met in physical reality, in response to each other’s silly comments was “You’re strange” … “You’re stranger.”

Like snowflakes, we each were the same thing –human– but with unique characteristics: personalities, families, friends, education, professions, hobbies, life experiences that had shaped us into who we were. And each of us like snowfall, when we fell, when we hit our lows, we had our safety net of companions. An InnerNet that held us together. We inhabited a different dimension with a unique set of physical laws. We tried our best to describe what we felt when we connected, when we knew someone was connecting with us, our reactions, when another was reacting to us.

prickly heat of near frostbite
funnybone tingles
heart embers
teary not me
cool, smooth smoky air in lungs

During our first interactions, when we were unaware of each other, we did not understand why our senses were overloaded. Why we got so emotional. Later, we were better able to figure out why we were sensing what we were. We were able to distinguish between our Self and an Other. To help me sort through my interpretation of this new dimension, how I perceived walking on the edge of multiple realities, I wrote poetry …

The prickly heat of near frostbite
The frigid wind freezedries my eyes
Snowflakes, light and cool
dots connecting with my taste buds
Winter air’s icy burn
tracks down my throat
into my lungs
Absorbed in making sense
the contrasts I perceive
Jolted into another awareness
keep a dying fire

“Frostbite” 11:10 26 January (41 years old)

And I continued to write stories to share with my partner…

The grass, frosty from the fall of temperatures below freezing overnight crunched under my feet. I turn around and see my footprints fall behind me back to the house, like stepping stones. There’s a chilly mist hovering just above the low-lying areas and the clusters of cattails. My feet breeze through pools of clouds. The large rock close to the water’s edge is where I stop to sit and look out onto the surface of the water, a thin layer of ice making the pond look utterly still, an image frozen in time. I huddle inside my coat, bury my face a little more behind my scarf, my gloved hands I hug under my armpits. I stare out onto the icy water, sometimes focusing on one patch, at other times my sight going unfocused, my eyes as foggy as the mist. My mind is meandering back and forth from the reality I see before me to the one of my imagination…Thoughts float away. A cold wind sends a shiver through me and I breathe in the winter air. My vision refocuses to the frigid scene, and I smile behind my scarf. I let out a puff of warm air as I say


“Steam” 19:01 15 December (41 years old)

To dream and altogether not to dream.
This synthesis is the operation of genius,
by which both activities are mutually reinforced.

— Novalis

Dreamers and creative types walk a thin line. That line between fantasy and reality. Innovators and visionaries understand that without fantasy, reality would not exist. Without reality, we would not create the fantastical magic that instills in us a contemplative trauma, leaving us with residual wonder. Without our creations in imaginal realms the reality we work and live in would be a zombified empty void, or we’d be like plankton snatching nutrients passing by, depending on chance happenings for our survival.

“There are some people who live in a dream world, and there are some who face reality; and then there are those who turn one into the other.” -Douglas Everett

Image: One of Gustave Doré’s Illustrations from Cervantes’s classic Don Quixote “A world of disorderly notions, picked out of his books, crowded into his imagination”

Image: One of Gustave Doré’s Illustrations from Cervantes’s classic Don Quixote “A world of disorderly notions, picked out of his books, crowded into his imagination”

Too much fantasy and there’s a danger of walking aimlessly through life, without purpose, or worse, suffering a quixotic loss of sanity. Too much reality and insight and drive disappear, stalling progress.

Visualization brings abstract concepts, images and activities to life inside our minds. We all have a genius in us. We each have the ability to spacetime travel: we are constantly transporting ourselves to spaces of the past, present and future — real and imaginary.

“Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid.” — Albert Einstein

It’s all a matter of finding a balance. Acting on our dreams. Changing and improving reality based on what we envision, what drives us, where our passions lie.

“There’s no reality except the one contained within us. That’s why so many people live an unreal life. They take images outside them for reality and never allow the world within them to assert itself.” —Hermann Hesse

For some reason not even I can explain, I’ve always known this. Was it my upbringing? Did my introversion make me more observant of my surroundings, more introspective? Was it something that was read to me as a child and I latched onto? Was it part of a song that stuck with me all this time and I was forever searching for similar lyrics, all the while it became a guiding force? Whatever it was, whatever drifted by in my lifetime, at certain moments in my life, I was steered back to this balancing beam, walking that filmiest of screens, as William James put it, between realities or states of consciousness.

“Our normal waking consciousness, rational consciousness as we call it, is but one special type of consciousness, while all about it, parted from it by the filmiest of screens, there lie potential forms of consciousness entirely different.” — William James

Course Number: College English 101
Title: My only wish, my only hope (draft)
Date: 01 February (17 years old)
You are walking down a hallway and there is a window in the distance to your left. You can see sunlight beaming in and covering part of the floor. As you move closer you notice you can no longer see the light. It has not disappeared — it is within you. You feel its warm touch and bright smile… At this time in my life I can see the light. I can see the many possibilities that are ahead of me. What will I be doing with my life and where will I be? Those questions will be answered a short time from now … My hope is that I will have the chance to open the doors that conceal the places I have dreamed of going. If I stay here I will never know if my fantasies will turn out to be real…If I stay here for the rest of my life I may never feel or walk into the light. I think the explorer and dreamer in me will fade away and be locked up in a dusty, dark part of me and something I do not want to become will escape. It will be me — but not the me I had envisioned. Hope is what we live for, and dreams are why we never give that hope up. My only wish is that I have the chance of living out my dream. Just thinking about it makes me look forward to my possible future that much more. I guess I just have to remind myself to take things one step at a time…

Wherever we go in life we are constantly teetering on that tightrope between realties. Pay attention not just to the obvious, the conspicuous, but look in those hidden corners. They are all around you and in you. The more you pick up, the more you notice in your peripheral vision, worlds of possibilities appear. Be attentive, relax your attention, go unfocused, refocus.

Incoming Images
Log: 23 August (41 years old)
13:51 In between blinks I notice I have a white spot in the center of my vision… what’s that about?
13:51 U-shaped image. Darker blue on left, turquoise on right. Image changes, flattens.
13:58 I close my eyes again and see a digitized U-shaped blue/turquoise-filled shape “the spot”
14:01 It sometimes goes into focus, something is beyond that image
red interlaced to left, white underneath, flashing blue lines
14:03 disappears …. gets larger 14:05
shape like a lizard or small dog jittery, walking left to right. I can’t make out image but it changes like one of those old-fashioned animations when you flip pages of a book and see an image “move”
I cover my eyes and I see it better 14:10
In my right eye it gets bigger. The image wraps around my eye, moving, jittering
14:17 flashing …Now it’s like I can’t quite focus on the scene — I can see in my peripheral vision the scene coming at me and passing by … Image gone 14:19
I can see in my peripheral vision the scene coming at me and passing by like signs overhead just to the right — on a highway?
15:02ish temple pressure
End of moving image scene 15:02ish 23 August

My way of acting on the “fantasies” is to bring them out of my head, shape them and bring them to life, create a commentary of sorts and share them. I know others have experienced sequences of events, witnessed strange phenomena during different conscious and dreaming states like I have. Deep down I know there are and will be more out there needing a guiding force. My wish, my hope is that my stories will help them along the way to stay the course, to wherever they are going.

Navigational Tool: Life’s a flicker show. Take time to blink.

The pebbled path rolls and shifts under my sandals. I slowly walk the grounds, pausing every so often to listen to the interplay of songbirds and buzzing insects, to look at the intersection of lines and curves, admiring the contrasting colors-soft and vibrant, breathing in overpowering scents and subtle fragrances, noticing the flash of texture filling a void, empty spaces winking in between.
I wind my way through the twisting walkway, squinting as I hit patches of brightest light, residual shapes behind my eyelids while in shadows cast by taller shrubbery.
A low stone wall encloses the garden, the rusts, grays and light browns of the rocks and mortar match the palette of the hills that rise into the horizon.
A corner of the wall ponts out to the hills, into Nature’s Window: two trees’ arching branches frame the countryside beyond.
I sit under one of the trees, my feet rest on the arrowpoint of the wall, tickled by the long grass that arcs up and over. My eyes trace the grooves in the hills, the trail where I’ll soon be…
“Nature’s Window” 19:49 12 January (41 years old)


In all things that are purely social we can be as separate as the five fingers, 
yet one as the hand in all things essential to mutual progress.

– Booker T. Washington

Each piece of confetti is just a colored speck or fragment. By itself, unremarkable and easily mistaken for scrap paper. Trash bin material. But millions of pieces falling together from a height? A beautiful, timed spectacle to celebrate a momentous event.

Significant changes bloom when two conditions align: timing and groups working together in shared spaces. Individuals may work on gamechanging ideas separately, early adopters testing out the waters of cutting-edge technology, but if the timing is wrong, if successes and failures are not shared, wheels get reinvented, concepts float dead in the water. It’s not until collaborative teams form, until ideas bounce off of people, until a perfectly good concept catches on, that momentum takes off and good things happen. Imagine all the before-their-time futuristic innovations that never happened until much later for one reason or the other. Maybe material or human resources didn’t exist yet. Historic ripples start because people are in the right place at the right time.

“I realized that most inventions fail not because the R&D department can’t get them to work but because the timing is wrong. Inventing is a lot like surfing: you have to anticipate and catch the wave at just the right moment.” 
-Ray Kurzweil, The Singularity is Near

Little did I know when I created my first post to IdeaSpace how far of a reach it’d have.

IDEA - To: The Perfect Team
CREATED 21:57ish 07 May (41 years old)
To: The perfect team. You know who you are. There’s that one member who regularly says “I have an idea!” Another who motivates, who advocates. Others who know when to say “Yes!” and when to say “No.” A planner who weighs the pros & cons. The curious one who questions and hungers to learn more. The leader & decision maker who do the right things. The folks who do things right, who value collaboration & communication. The risk taker & prototyper who aren’t afraid of failure, who can switch gears easily to problem solve. And all who continually strive to make things better. “Great discoveries and improvements invariably involve the cooperation of many minds.” -Alexander Graham Bell

Somehow, this idea, this dream of a perfect team, reached a few like minds in an unexpected way. In the words of W.H. Auden, each of our imaginations responded to those it recognized in the same way. We found each other and our InnerNet was formed.

Transmission 02:21 08 September (41 years old)
ME: …and I need to get details down… I try to write down triggers to help me remember, but if I wait too long… I forget what the triggers mean… and I prefer to just talk to you via telepathy instead of typing up as we speak, you know?… I spoke to Trickster, did I tell you? I’m not sure if I told you or not… be sure to repeat what you may have said before. Never sure what is heard and what isn’t…what’s a conversation with a future HE and present HE… which reminds me that telepathing may be like predictive waking dreams, which are different than daydreaming. Like the one I had before my daughter was born. That flash of seeing her in the baby car seat. I had a similar waking dream about you a few months ago, which I’m not going to tell you about until we meet in real time.
HE: Oh, now you need to tell me.
ME: Nope. Back to my talk with Trickster…
HE: Come on. You cannot just tell me that you had a dream about me and then not tell me what it was about.
ME: I’ll just tell you that it was a really good, vivid dream…. and back to Trickster…
HE: Argh.

ME: … Things are falling into place.
HE: Yes, they are.
ME: And I’m so excited to be working on a team again… and we each are unique with different expertise, talents… OH. I JUST HAD A FLASH… My first idea… “The Perfect Team.” OMG. It’s happening.

Throughout history, social gatherings have propelled progress. Networks formed, think tanks spawned collaborative endeavors.

“[Benjamin Franklin] formed a ‘club of mutual improvement’ called the Junto. It was a grand scheme to gobble up knowledge. He invited working-class polymaths like him to have the chance to pool together their books and trade thoughts and knowledge of the world on a regular basis.” -David McRaney from his book You Are Now Less Dumb via @brainpicker

“In 1981, I founded the Reality Club. From its founding through 1996, the club held its meetings in Chinese restaurants, artists’ lofts, the boardrooms of investment-banking firms, ballrooms, museums, and living rooms, among other venues…Perhaps the closest resemblance was to the late 18th- and early 19th-century Lunar Society of Birmingham, an informal gathering of the leading cultural figures of the new industrial age–James Watt, Erasmus Darwin, Josiah Wedgwood, Joseph Priestley, Benjamin Franklin. In a similar fashion, the Reality Club was an attempt to gather together those people exploring the themes of the post-Industrial Age. In 1997, the Reality Club went online, rebranded as Edge. The ideas presented on Edge are speculative; they represent the frontiers in such areas as evolutionary biology, genetics, computer science, neurophysiology, psychology, cosmology, and physics. Emerging out of these contributions is a new natural philosophy, new ways of understanding physical systems, new ways of thinking that call into question many of our basic assumptions.” –John Brockman, Publisher & Editor, Edge

As networks increasingly moved from physical to virtual spaces, the ways in which people met and interacted changed. In the early years of the internet, virtual meeting spaces where synchronous communication took place came in the form of chat and game rooms, much like what later became texting or instant messaging. We used what resources were available to us at the time to meet and make use of the space however we needed or wanted.

Date: Mon, 07 Feb 19:24 (20 years old)
Subject: Game World
“How does the telnet number work?” you asked. Well, we can’t do it the easy way because I’m outside the U.S. You’d have to call my number, and from there, I’m unsure. Maybe ‘talk wanderer’ or ‘chat wanderer’? If nothing else, the game world works just as well. The number is 4000, type telnet and a space before. Then choose the name for your character, a password and whatever you wish after that for profession etc., doesn’t matter. Then enter the Apocalypse. Yes, the END OF THE WORLD. I’ll write more about it later…”

Many years later, in a space we all share, dreamspace, my team and I all had a nightmare… at the same time. Many precognitive dreams have very real, ordinary aspects to them. Many will not make any sense… until waking events catch up. Others stand out. Are unforgettable. Those vivid dreams you wake up to in a panic. For my team and I we each had a nightmare. A few months into experiencing our telepathic extraconnectedness, as we finetuned our abilities — we became dream partners as well. We visited each other in existing and new dream locales, dreamtraveled together, watched over each other, tapped into each others’ dreams, and had the same sleep dreams, but experienced them from different perspectives. One day, we awakened from each other’s fright, immediately asking what just happened. It was then that we realized we all had witnessed the same apocalyptic event. A few of us died in that dream. Others suffered the aftermath, survivors inhabiting a slowly dying world. We didn’t realize the gravity and importance of that dream at the time… until waking events caught up. My team and I were handling a ticking time bomb. Luckily, the countdown clock gave us plenty of time. This dream changed our fate.

“The future can be seen, and because it can be seen, it can be changed.”
-J.B. Priestley, Man and Time