Around the age of 12, I began having dreams about going on adventures with a male person whose head and face were always blurred or engulfed in a kind of fog or mist. We would visit various places or dimensions, all linked to a huge ballroom that must have been a dock of some sort. Many of these dreams were lucid, my having them in the very early morning shortly before it was time to get up and get ready for school.
I always enjoyed the dreams, and would often talk about my escapades to Aunt Tudi and Granny. He never gave me his name, so I always described as The Person. I remember that he was at least 6'2" in height, had an English accent, and often wore a black vest. No, he wasn't the Doctor, but I definitely sensed a vague similarity when I started watching Doctor Who in 1983. Oh, and he often had a white cat on his shoulder.
Our relationship wasn't romantic. He was more of a teacher and a guide through the phantasmagorical landscape in which we found ourselves. I always found comfort in my times with The Person and, despite some of the frightening scenarios in which I found myself, there was never a time I did not feel completely safe with him around. A lot of my stories about Dannagran Dram (a strange kind of parallel world I began to develop in 1981) were directly influenced by my Person Dreams, such as pink snow, Darzhevo trees (or Leaftrees) that possessed a strange luminescence, and the first seeds of what would become the Tarmian myths.
The Person was my constant companion in my subconscious world from 1980 until 1991. The last dream I had of him was completely unlike any of the others, in that I could see his face, and he was without his cat companion. Why he chose to reveal himself with this face, I have no idea, but it certainly affected how I view Michael Champion in any of the movies I watch in which he plays a part. (Probably, his best-known role was Helm in the original Total Recall)
The entire feel of the dream was one of dread and, even though I knew I was dreaming, I could do nothing to alter it in my semi-lucid state. I could only watch and listen with horror.
We were on a downtown street of some city. There were young trees dotting the sidewalk on both sides. I think they were maples, but I can't say for sure. I was standing with my back against the brick wall of a crumbling building, and The Person stood with his arm around me.
He said, "Look at what has happened." I peered out and saw that, for each person walking silently down the sidewalk, a man dressed in black combat gear and wearing a helmet that concealed his face, walked closely behind, carrying a machine gun.
"It has gone wrong. Don't let them catch you. They're vivisecting presumed offenders."
Suddenly, the scene changed, and I was standing in an operation room, apparently invisible, watching this surgical team, cut my dream guardian open from stem to stern, and prod the exposed organs as The Person shrieked in pain. That was the last time he appeared to me.
Ever since 9/11, the dream has taken on new meaning for me, but recent events worldwide have certainly made thoughts of the nightmare much more relevant and disturbing.
Did I have a vision back in 1991? Was any of that really real? I have no idea. But I can't help but think "It has gone wrong" has certainly surfaced as a grim reality.