I have at times the distasteful pleasure of being other people in my dreams. From time to time I know who they are and the events can unfortunately be real.
I was my brother once during a visit from my schizophrenic sister as he was seeing her to a Greyhound bus to send her back to California. I was one of my nieces and caught a glimpse of the relationship between her and her father.
This was a dream of somebody I didn't know personally at all and never came into personal contact with.
There is an enormous military installation, underground, so secret it is only shown to certain Presidents. A seemingly industrial setting, and I shall have to rely on a few brief memories (from the President's mind):
Imagine a stocky Southerner in his mid 50's, short hair, a short sleeve white shirt and dark tie who exudes that special down home comfort and Christian certainty. He's leaning with his hand against a rail, utterly at ease on what looks like either a raised platform or the top of a flight of metal stairs and he is explaining some of the local capabilities to a newly elected US President like he might talk about his fishing tackle: genetic engineering from alien DNA, human-alien hybrids, anti-gravity, the list is quite extensive.
The last thing I remember is him nodding and saying in that special down home way: “We read minds, too.” Giving away the fact that he wasn't quite all human himself.
Somewhere nearby by I saw a tall very thin gentleman of ordinary northern latitude Caucasian complexion in dress blue Air Force uniform walking along without a patch of hair on his head and a hat size much too big for regular folks.
