Barnhart's Secret Tunnel

I was on my way out to the country to monitor a habitat project. The site was in an eroded valley north of Jesse Barnhart’s house. I parked in front of his house and then walked through the compound, where his barns and other outbuildings were located, to access the area.

As I was leaving the vicinity around Jesse’s house, he came out from behind an old weathered and abandoned barn. “Hi, what are you up to?” he asked. I told him about the valley. He immediately seemed rather agitated and let me know that he wished that I had asked to go look at the place first, even though it wasn’t on his property. (The easiest way to access the site was through his property.) Elliot, his son, came out from behind the barn a minute later and we continued to talk for a while.

I said, “If you don’t want me to go on your property, I won’t. Just say the word. I’ll go around your place.”

“Naw, that’s OK,” Jesse replied, “But like I said, next time I’d rather you call and ask first.”

“OK, next time I will.”

They walked with me up to the valley. We came upon an old junkyard, where an old-fashioned wash machine had been dumped into a deeply eroded cut. Jesse was more agitated than ever. It made me a bit nervous, descending into the cut, which is where we needed to go to get to project site. The embankment looked very unstable: a good place to get caught in a cave-in, I thought. Besides that, I wasn’t honestly sure that I could get back out of the cut once I was in since it was so deep and its sides so steep. Nevertheless, I jumped in anyway, determined to show my dedication to my job. They did not follow me in.

I scrambled down through the cut. It went deeper and deeper into the hillside. I stopped to look back, still extremely concerned about being able to climb out. On I went, anyway.

After a time, the cut turned into a tunnel. I followed it deeper into the ground. By this time, I was determined to go to the end no matter what; then I’d turn back. On and on I went through the meandering passageway. It had the appearance of having been sculpted,. I thought someone had spent considerable time working to make the subterranean hallway safer and easier to negotiate. After what seemed like a very long time, I heard noises coming from up ahead, as well as a light. “The tunnel must have another entrance!” I exclaimed to myself aloud.

A moment later, and to my utter surprise, I discovered that the tunnel joined up with a hallway that then led to a hotel/restaurant - The 4-Bs of all places! You can imagine my surprise. Even stranger was the fact that I was now in a large city, specifically in Jordan, Montana! It was as if I’d gone ahead in time, and the town of Jordan had grown into a large, bustling city.

I walked through the lobby of the hotel, still marveling at my adventure and where I came out. I thought about it and guessed that I’d traveled at least 15 miles in the underground passageway. That’s how far it felt anyway. How strange, I mused, to have walked fifteen miles underground and then to suddenly find myself having traveled ahead in time by some undetermined, but sizeable, amount of time.

I decided to keep the tunnel a secret and began walking back to Barnhart’s. It was night by the time I made the mouth of the tunnel. I wanted to return to my pickup and leave without disturbing the family, talking to them or otherwise alerting them to my presence, which I managed to do.

I was glad the old Ford F150 started up and I could drive off without delay because the starter had been giving me trouble lately. As I tooled down the dark highway, I kept wondering how much Jesse knew about the tunnel; and if he did, did anyone else know about it. Was it really a secret? I suspected he knew about it and didn’t want me in there. That’s why he had acted so strangely. He was hoping that I wouldn’t discover it. I also wondered when it was built and what its original purpose was. What was the secret to the subterranean passageway; and what was Jesse’s connection to it?

Frustrated

This morning was different. I woke up frustrated and upset from my dreams. It may have had something to do with my job, I’m not sure; I can’t really remember what my dreams were about.

Flying all Night

I spent the whole night flying! It was wonderful. Although I didn’t bother to replay the script in my mind in the morning because I didn’t have time, I know it was a glorious time.

Fishing with Mark

I went to the ‘big city’ on business where I bumped into an old high school friend and college roommate, Mark Klawitter. He suggested we go fishing and catch up on each other’s lives. “Sure, that would be nice,” I said.

The pond was in a big city park, shady with cottonwood trees and lawn grass up to the edge of the brownish-green water. It was the kind of park where tame ducks and geese eat day-old bread from strolling pedestrians.

Mark geared up immediately, casting a dry fly at the mirror smooth water. I took my time enjoying the peacefulness of the gnarly old trees and lush grass. A few young mothers gossiped while they watched their children playing. An occasional jogger ambled past. It was very peaceful.

Finally, I walked down to the shore to collect my tackle box and spinning rod where I’d left them. On a whim, I decided to first ask Mark if it was artificial lures only, or if you could use bait. I turned and sauntered over to him. Just as I began to pose the question, the local wildlife biologist came up to us, greeted us cordially and asked to see our fishing licenses. We complied and then chatted with him for a few minutes before he wandered off. Meanwhile, I stared out across the pond and noted trout rising near the center.

After the biologist had left, I called out to Mark, “Hey, will you look at that? There really are fish in this pond. Look over there. WOW! There are three real lunkers!” Mark followed my gaze and saw the three big fish. They were maybe five plus pounds apiece. “Let’s go around to the other side. They’re heading that way, and the sun would be in our favor,” he said.

I crunched through the gravel back to the car to get my fishing pole, where I rigged up a dry fly and bobber. Mark and the Biologist said it was bait fishing for kids only. A few minutes and several casts later, Mark came down to see if I was ready yet. I was, so we wandered around to the far side of the pond. A narrow, soggy fisherman’s trail next to the pond led the way. It paralleled a graveled jogging path up the bank on a little higher ground. Several people were walking by out enjoying the day. Two very attractive young women wore only their bathing suits.

“Where do you suppose they’re going?” I asked Mark motioning with my chin.

“There’s a swimming pool over there,” Mark replied. “Wanna go check it out?”

“Yeah, sounds good. Let’s go see what’s goin’ on.”

We climbed up onto the gravel path, following the girls in their skimpy bikinis from a distance. We joined a scattered group of swimmers at the pool’s edge. Mark sat down on some steps leading up to bleachers. I leaned against the handrail. We were silent for a few minutes just watching the beautiful young women in their swimsuits.

“Does it bring back old memories?” I asked.

“Yeah, kinda,” Mark replied.

“Do you ever miss Holly?”

“Not really. I don’t ever really think about her anymore.”

“Huh,” I grunted thoughtfully.

We continued to admire the women, lost in our own thoughts. It felt good, being there, just relaxing with nothing pressing going on, enjoying the time with an old friend.

Survival Course

Some of the world’s scientists fear that a potentially dangerous and deadly natural disaster is coming to Earth. I am attending a survival school in a classroom with twenty or more other adult students hearing lectures about ‘how to survive’ in the advent of such a disaster. After taking an exam once the lectures series is over, we begin gathering up equipment, preparing ourselves for a week of practical survival training.

Already a competent outdoorsman, I am excited about the practicum, believing that I will do well. In fact, I think I will really enjoy the test. I first strap on a shoulder holster and insert my .40 caliber Beretta Border Marshall. Then I tuck a snub-nosed Smith & Wesson 9 mm revolver into the ankle holster on my right ankle. I select clothing and other gear then pause to decide whether or not I should take my bow and arrows. The bow is quiet, of course, and for some reason I think that I might not want to attract too much attention, which I could well do if I end up having a reason to shoot the pistols.

The other important question on my mind is if I should try to team up with another person or persons. There’s safety in numbers, I think. I decide to get my bow ready in case I decide to bring it. But I am chagrinned to see that all but one of the nocks on my arrows is broken or missing. I set about making repairs.

Just then, the city’s emergency sirens go off. Everyone jumps and runs to the window. To our astonishment the police had come to disband our group and take us to jail! Someone shouted, “They’re already there!”

I knew it was time to make my exit, and fast. Glancing around, I also realized that most of my fellow students hadn’t taken the warnings or our studies very seriously. They were not prepared for either the looming disaster or the law enforcement officials that were about to disrupt our gathering. My instincts screamed at me to ‘get the hell out of there!’

Pagan Festival and Alligator Hunting

Earth-crust displacement and pole shift had occurred. Montana was semi-tropical when I went to see my friend Dave to go alligator hunting. (Alligators and serpents are common themes in my dreams.) Dave and I decided to ride our bikes across the state, to see the environmental changes throughout the state, and document where alligators were turning up. There were reports from many areas, including around Lewistown and Great Falls. The state was much less populated than it is now.

There were reports of an alligator hiding out in a small stream where people were frequenting; and it seems as though it was causing some problems. We walked down a ramp toward the stream. I could see a nest of eggs under water. Suddenly, the eggs began to disappear. Looking across at the far bank, I saw the gator poking its head out of a hole in the bank. It was bringing the eggs to a burrow and depositing them inside. I wondered if it was a female.

Turns out that a Scottish cult had planned a festival streamside. I warned them of the gator, but no one would listen to me. Sure enough, before long the dimwitted pagans began wading, playing and swimming in the stream. The gator came out of its hole and grabbed a man by the leg and dragged him under. That stopped the fun and games. Now the group wanted me to rescue their comrade and get rid of the alligator.

I drove back to look for the reptile as well as the missing man. Meanwhile, the ‘Scottish-rights’ group continued their private, all-male shindig. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I discovered the whole group of men dancing along the shore (at least they had enough sense to leave the water). Several young women and a few other men, who were not a part of the cult, came to the water’s edge to join in the festivities/ritual.

They were told to leave, as it was an all-male affair.

I thought, what a joke, a bunch of grown men doing silly little dances together.

One woman stripped to the skin to dance. My friend and I walked across the platform past the cult members to get a better look at the women dancers, especially the one writhing, animal-like, with no clothes. She was quite beautiful.

I was also concerned for her and the other’s safety since they were so close to the stream. Sure enough, sometime later, the attractive young woman went swimming in the stream and disappeared. When I found out, which was only minutes later, there was a lot of screaming and shouting for help, I dove right in. I expected to find her dragged into the burrow with the gator but I was wrong. Instead, I saw a huge octopus swimming off with her!

The octopus swam into a giant clam, which closed as soon as it entered with the woman. I swam to clam and pried open its jaws and was able to scare the octopus, which in turn released the woman. I brought the unconscious girl to the surface and revived her, saving her life.

More Flying...

My night was again very busy with dreams, but I didn’t have time to write them down as I knew H and E were leaving today. Naturally, I spent a good part of the time in the air, flying.

More Flying Dreams

More flying dreams, but I didn’t have time to write them down in the morning.

Flying in the Mountains

I was hiking in the alpine of some beautiful rugged, rocky mountains. A man was trying to capture me. He pursued me to a mountain cirque with a beautiful tarn. I dove into the water to escape him. He followed. I flew under water then burst through the surface and blasted into space! It was a wonderful feeling and I easily escaped my pursuer.

Lost Flying Dream

I had a good flying dream last night and thought sure I could remember it this morning. Alas, the vision vanished like mist rising on a river.