Coping: The “Archeologist Dream” Woo-Woo

Markets are not falling apart.  The “usual suspects” will face off in November.  And Spring is slowly coming along, punctuated by the occasional earthquake.

That last point actually figures into this morning’s report of some serious personal woo-woo, so let me roll back to the beginning.

As long-term readers will remember, I am terribly prone to two rather unique things.  One is that I become tired before major earthquakes.  And I got the “earthquake tired” feeling on Tuesday afternoon about 2 PM Texas time.

The second unique thing that happens to me is that I have vivid dreams (and I mean like iMax vivid) on an increasingly frequent basis.  Often times, these dreams will either be about an event in the immediate future (by a day or longer, but sometimes just an hour or two ahead of events) while other times it’s like being at the scene of an actual news event.

Two Recent Example of Accurate Dream Content

I’m sure you remember the weird bus dream and how the actual event occurred in South Melbourne Australia.  (It was described in Dream #3 here: https://urbansurvival.com/coping-the-cool-part-about-aging/.) 

Less noticed might have been my note in the February 25 Coping section column about my motorcycle dream, down toward the bottom of this page: https://urbansurvival.com/coping-coloring-books-for-seniors/ 

One Other Dream Note

Damnedest dream overnight:  Kept dreaming about being on a motorcycle with some kind of throttle problem.  In fact, at one point, while riding, the throttle control simply fell off the right handlebar.  The inside of the mechanism was clear in the dream, too…

I don’t know if this means there is a recall coming, or if someone famous loses throttle control, or what.  But it was intense and I thought worth mentioning.  News scan at press time doesn’t show anything big.  Believe me, I’m on the lookout for this one.  It’s been 30-years since my old Virago 650 shaft-drive and no reason to dream of it now.  The bike in the dream was more like a moto-cross rice-burner…

Well, try not to look surprised or anything, but here we go:

February 26th (28 hours after the dream posting): “Recall News: 2016 Kawasaki ZX-10R Motorcycles.”

And February 29th:  “Kawasaki recalls Ninja ZX-10R and Ninja ZX-10R ABS motorcycles – The steering damper bracket mounting bolts may break.”

Hmmm…oddly timed and a bit if advance again.  It’s like riding a wild pony on this stuff.

So Here’s the Latest Dream / Adventure

Timeline:  I was dreaming this dream from about 3:07 AM until my 4:00 AM alarm on the morning of March 2.  I had stirred about 3 AM, glanced at the clock and scolded myself for leaving a dream.  This was the first time I can remember when I woke from a dream (which was making no sense), went back into the dream – figured out the story line and then followed the dream to its strange waking-state results.

The first part of the dream was on-going.  I was not myself.  Rather, I was younger, wearing jeans and only a very light shirt and I was in a kind of run-down restaurant or hotel.

There was a dog in the scene.  Pretty ugly mutt.  Looked like a cross between a dachshund and a Chihuahua.  The dog looked like a cross with all the bad features of each breed:  The temperament of the Chihuahua and its legs, and the upper body of the dachshund. 

The dog had been scooting it’s butt on the floor which was dirty.  The room was whites, yellows, and blues…lots of blues in the furniture.

I didn’t like dog and figured by the way he was biting on his personal parts that he had a bad case of worms.  The dog then wanted to get up on my calves (which were on something like an ottoman) but I remember I didn’t want anything to do with that damn dog because if he bit, I would get God knows what. 

He also had something white (like a kids white sock) in his mouth.

I was in a distinctly grumpy mood…and I woke up.

(checked the clock, a minute or two after 3 AM so I decided to return to sleep and without forcing anything, I dropped back into the dream)

In this recliner, I was still miserable, but after a while a fellow speaking Spanish came in wearing a kind of khaki-colored uniform.  Looked sort of like an old Barney Fife get-up and he had a brown clipboard and he was prattling on about the terms of my arrival.

He said that I should really have cleared into the country elsewhere instead of coming from the country next door directly.

I blamed it on my pilot, a local fellow from the other country, who had flown me in this rickety old Cessna 172.  The plain had landed on a dusty road nearby instead of the local airfield.

Eventually, after making me wait some more, so he could “show me who was in charge” the officer  who was something like a cross between Customs and a cop, let me go and I was free to seek out my friends.

I then experienced what a film director would call a “jump cut.”  One moment I was being berated by the local power-freak and the next moment I was in the company of a couple of other scientists and we were looking at something that looked like an artesian well that was issuing forth water across about a 50-foot face of an obviously manmade stoneworks around the fountain. 

In the background were mountains, but they were unusual because they had no trees on them.  What’s more, I knew this area was in the “crook” of the Pacific Coast of South America, even though I have only been near that part of the world once before.  That was 32 years ago on a flight to Guayaquil to Lima and that was in the middle of the night… a good ways north of the dream site.

The conversation we were having was quite animated.  The issue seemed to be whether “the earthquake would damage the water flow from this artesian spring…”

(loud obnoxious noise)

Damn, the alarm went off and I was back on this side of the dream again.  Shoot-damn, and just as things were getting interesting again.

– – – – – – – –

As usual, I got up, made coffee, fed the cat, loaded up on vitamins, and then sat down to digest the day’s news. 

Suddenly, while checking the USGS website, I realized the dream had a serious woo-woo angle to it because of what was showing on the US Geological Survey website:

Quickly, I started in disbelief.  Could it be?

The I looked at the official data report:

Time

1. 2016-03-02 09:49:53 (UTC)
2. 2016-03-02 03:49:53 (UTC-06:00) in your timezone
3. Times in other timezones

Nearby Cities

1. 52km (32mi) WSW of Arica, Chile
2. 92km (57mi) SW of Tacna, Peru
3. 131km (81mi) SSE of Ilo, Peru
4. 166km (103mi) S of Moquegua, Peru
5. 366km (227mi) SW of La Paz, Bolivia

HOLY CRAP!  Right as I was dreaming in the dream about the possibility of “the quake damaging the artesian flow THE QUAKE HAPPENED IN REAL LIFE.

A Little Too “IRL?”

Since it was Wednesday morning, I took my second cup of coffee out in the office and didn’t think much more about the incident until about 8 AM when I went back to the house to scout up some breakfast.

Elaine was running a bit late so I looked at the data from earlier in the morning.  I’ve had enough of this stuff happen that there were no cold chills running up the spine, or anything like that.

Instead, it was more of an acceptance.  Yeah, this had happened.  I took in the USGS map looking for landmarks.

Since I am real big on “sticking to the data” I decided to look and see what was on the internet about “artesian springs north Chile.”

I mean, how common would Artesian springs be in a pretty dry area, right?

Wrong.

I about froze when I found this as the second search result out of Google Books:

This is from a 1965 U.S. Department of Interior book titled “Geology and Ground-water Resources of the Pica Area, Tarapaca Province, Chile” by Robert James Dingman, Carlos Galli Olivier.

Well, I’ll be damned.

As any good research geek, that led me off to a search of the Pica area of Chile – which I had never heads of before.  But, naturally, Wikipedia has…

Pica is a Chilean town and commune in Tamarugal Province, Tarapacá Region. Situated in the inland of the Atacama Desert on an oasis, Pica is famous for its small and unusually acidic lemons. The town has a communal spring with a surface temperature of 40 °C, which makes it a popular bath place in the middle of the desert. It has hotels and all basic services.

Finally, when I found the Pica municipal website, there was a picture on the website masthead that showed the communal pool in the city which is something of an oasis out in the middle of a desert area which explains the sand colored mountains in the dream…

That all left me in a bit of a quandary by noon Wednesday.

We had just experienced the 7.8 quake down in the Sumatra, Indonesia area.  The “earthquake tireds” were lifting as the aftershocks were passing.

But something is still down there nagging.  Is there more earthquake activity to come?  And when it does, as the archeologists in my dream were speculating, will it cut off the artesian water sources that are keeping a small town of 10,000 going and prospering in the arid wastes of northern Chile?

Event wait to be seen.  But should they be stocking up on bottled water?

In the meantime, I add this up to my growing pile of “Pretty interesting shit, there, Mr. Ure..”

Yeah, I guess I’d say so.  But interesting ain’t the half of it.

Is Every Dream a Headline?

Overnight I was treated to another one:  In this one a doctor (or chiropractor) was performing what was akin to psychic surgery on a patient.  He pretended to remove a small white “growth” from the patient’s ear.  Tossing it aside, it made a hard “click” as it hit the wall or floor (I couldn’t be sure).

But what I was aware of was that he had scratched the area behind the patient’s ear to make it SEEM like he might have removed something there.  Watching from the position I was in, I couldn’t prove it…but I knew deep down inside that it was fraudulent psychic surgery…

So the interesting question to Google in the news over the next week, or two is whether a medical professional is busted for being a fraud and conning money through sleight of hand out of gullible people.

Not all stories I dream make the news, and maybe this will be one of them.  Down deep, though, it has helped me to develop an appreciation for why many people roll with substance abuse:  I think we all have “gifts.”  Sometimes, we don’t like what we see.  There’s an inclination to sometimes just “shut it all off” because we live in a world where the kind of improved inner alignment with the as above, so below is not a lot of fun.

Sometimes, in fact more often than not, it’s more painful than useful.  So if Ure’s truly had a double martini in the evenings, please try to forgive him.  Train wrecks, oil spills, fatal car accidents, earthquakes, archeologists, and now fraudulent psychic healers aren’t exactly what I’d like to be dreaming about.

Can we just move on to winning Lotto numbers?  With enough detail about which state would be nice, too…

Write when you break-even,

George   george@ure.net