March 9, 2018
Oriental ladies, a near a hallway. Then I was all over downtown. They were doing film shooting in Vancouver's downtown. At some point, I saw Christopher Walken. He was on a film set. Meanwhile I was busy doing my things, getting on the bus, travelling across town.
I met some ladies. Then we all went to my apartment. A few other people were there too. At one point, Christopher Walken was there. I told him I used to be a teacher and would show him some photos of that. He said, "You don't have to." But I wanted to. So I went into a bedroom to his right and looked for the photos. When I found them, in a small photo album, transparent plastic, I was going to show Christopher Walken. But when I went to the kitchen again, where we had all been sitting. I was told that he had left. I was despondent. I had one chance to talk to him but I missed it.
Soon, he returns with beer. I introduce myself, making sure to take his hand. Instead of offering me his hand, he gives me a can of beer. I tell him I'm glad to meet him. Then I sense some enemies with guns are coming.
We are all sitting next to a window. Someone is standing behind me. He walks away to my right. It is Prince Philip. He is dressed in a brown Scottish tweed suit. I talk to him. All of us in the room do. At one point, I am in tears being so moved to meet him, as I tell him that most of my life was unsuccessful, he reassures me, without saying a word, it was just his presence. He walks away towards an area with a kitchen to the right and a white leather sofa to the left and I see the whole thing. He falls, says something about not being able to get up and then he evaporates, leaving only a dry shell. The Evaporated Kid.
'The Police are on their way.'
We attempt to call the Police. Look out of a window onto some houses in a neighbourhood. I sense that the Police are on their way. I'm thinking, this is a major thing. A taxi cab hearse appears and as soon as he finds out the News, he throws away another body he had in the car. This is a teaching moment. When one dies, the spirit isn't thrown out of the body, the body is thrown out of the spirit that is still moving fast.
"For the dead travel fast." Bram Stoker
I am on a bus now. My friend, the late Mark Roy is there. First he is sitting near the bank of the bus on a seat on the left hand side of the bus, port side. Then all of a sudden he is standing in front of me. We have an argument. He is glowering, hovering over me as I sit in a side seat of the bus, in the middle left hand side of the bus. He was wearing a hoodie that looked like a shawl wrapped round his face. Spectral. I felt threatened. Mark can be a very angry guy. Remembering Prince Philip, I say to him succinctly. "I have connections with the British Royal Family." He then leaves and sits in the back of the bus. I then go to the exit doors. He's there too. I tell him I'm not afraid of him, I think, this part is sketchy.
I am then on a plane. Not a regular plane, but an Air Force One type sumptuous plane with suites and hallways. Although I don't see them, I know that Prince Charles and Prince William and Prince Harry are there. I am there with them because for some reason.
Then on the streets. There is a gun fight. I am given a gun but not instructions how to fire, "It's real easy to fire. Just point and shoot." and advance the chamber and reload. It was a silver gun, old West style. I don't know how to use it. I am able to use the gun on a few people before the dream ends.
Total recall, baby.
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Later on, another nap in the morning on the same day: "Everyone's waiting to see Bill Clinton!" A house, mountains, sweeping vista. Then camera, so to speak, pans right. Downhill. There's President Bill Clinton wearing a white short sleeve t shirt, white hair, distinct hairline shape. Sitting in a folding director's chair near a white trailer, Hollywood style. It's as if he's at a film shoot. There are other people around.
March 8, 2018
A hypnagogic vision of Queen Elizabeth. Hazy. Blue dress, white pearls. Old, white hair. Standing in a room looking at a wall. I heard the words, slight, "The crown."
Then I had a slight dream of Charles Bronson. He was in an apartment. A movie was shooting. He was to carry a package walking down the hall. The director gave him directions on how to carry it: "Not like a Charles Bronson. Like Charles Bronson."
March 9, 2018
Before the dream. A hypnagogic vision of Queen Elizabeth. Old, white hair. Gold dress. Leaning over 3 chairs. Back towards me.
In light of the dream, these hypnagogic visions make sense. They were so slight that at first, I was going to dismiss them.
As intriguing as they are, I never asked to have dreams of Royalty beforehand. I certainly never asked to have dreams specifically like whatever before they happen. I have no idea to the meaning. Why would Royalty visit someone like me in my dreams?
