Moose Lake Star Gazette - Serving Carlton and Pine Counties Since 1895

By Wick Fisher
Moose Lake Star-Gazette 


Wick's World


The moment I saw the four-subject, six-pocket orange spiral Mead notebook, I remembered what it contained; my dream journal. Sometime in the late 80s or early 90s, I recollect a time in life when I became interested in keeping track of my dreams. I wanted to learn how to fly…again.

In my pre-teen days, long before too much alcohol obliterated dream time, I had learned to fly in my dreams. More correctly, I should say that flying while dreaming came naturally for me. I believe that flying in one’s dreams is a natural human trait of the subconscious. No airplane is needed. I’m sure that many fellow dreamers will agree with me. The exhilaration alone from dream flying should be enough to encourage one to wish to fly as often and as high as possible.

When I have experienced lucid dreaming (being aware that you are dreaming) while flying, I have sometimes tried to shoot for the stars. Inevitably, the few times I have shot off like an errant rocket, I panicked and immediately woke up. Heading for outer space without, at minimum, an Elon Musk SpaceX contraption can be rather unnerving.

I am reminded of why I was so aware about the contents of the orange notebook. This wasn’t just a dream journal from the past. This was the dream journal that contained a premonition almost fifteen years before the September 11th terrorist attack on the World Trade Center.

I will let my journal tell the story: “Plane crashed into the side of a tall building. I was on an upper floor. The building started to shake and move around. Felt like I was falling. Reconciled myself to the fact that it was all over. Woke up.”

I guess I can be thankful I entered the last two words “Woke up.” This somehow negated the previous sentence that read “Reconciled myself to the fact that it was all over.”

At the time, I had nothing to compare this dream to. At that time most of the hijacking of airplanes resulted in some dissident getting a short, unpleasant vacation in Cuba…or vice versa. Then D.B. Cooper changed the game and brought money into the equation. We know how that ended. Well actually, we don’t.

Internationally, hijacking of airplanes and even cruise ships began to be used as a weapon of terror. Regardless, I do not recall flying airplanes into skyscrapers to be on anyone’s radar. It wasn’t even a part of the national discourse. So that is why I claim my dream to be something of a premonition. I really couldn’t have heard or read about this as it hadn’t ever happened before. No credit is due as my dream certainly had no basis to be reported and it wouldn’t have stopped anyone anyway.

Shortly after September 11th, Saddam Hussein became the bogeyman looked at by George Herbert Walker Bush’s son. Once the cat was out of the bag, there was no putting it back in. Junior was privately upset that Saddam had plotted an assassination attempt against Daddy Bush. He became the sacrificial lamb that payed the price for the mostly Saudi nationals that were ultimately found to be responsible for the September 11th terrorist attacks.

It wasn’t that Saddam was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time in history. There were plenty of reasons for regime change in Iraq. However, neither September 11th nor “weapons of mass destruction” were one of them.

As far as my old dream journal, it only foretold of a “plane crashed into the side of a building.” The rest is history.


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