09/24/2026
I asked for better memory of my dreams and visions, and they have been much better. Last night, I dreamed I drove home from my shack up north—on a motorcycle. There apparently was not enough fuel, or it was too expensive to drive cars. There were not many vehicles on the road. When I got back, I went to my neighbors, where I was storing my truck in their shed. I wanted to bring the truck up north and leave it there since I was not using it at home. I went inside to visit. They had planned a birthday party for one of the boys, who were nearly my age, but this large family all lived in one house, including the parents. It was too expensive for each of them to own a house.
I told them I might come, but hunting season was on and it was a very short season, so I needed to get back up north, where there were still deer to harvest. A couple of the guys walked with me to the shed and helped me get the truck out, as it was parked in by a few other vehicles. Most vehicles were stored in sheds because they were hardly driven. I drove over to my place, a small property in the country that I had obtained because it had been abandoned by the owners. I got out of the truck and stood on the hill. It was a vast prairie of yellow grasses as far as the eye could see—land that used to be farm fields. Nobody farmed crops anymore.
About that time, I saw my wife walking up the driveway. I met her on the driveway, and we decided to take a walk and visit before I left town again.
The climate and the cultural way of living had changed. Water had become very important. There were many new and large drainage ditches that had been dug—there were obviously some people who still had the income needed and access to fuel for such major heavy-equipment projects. They were very freshly dug. I complained that they had not needed to bulldoze out all the trees and brush to put in those ditches because what little wildlife there was had no paths to travel and no woods to protect them. But there was not much I could do about it.
The ponds had water in them, but the new ditches did not, though they looked muddy in spots. The ditch along the road that we were walking along dropped down another ten or twenty feet by the bridge to match the depth of the river—which was dried up now.
I climbed down into the ditch, as did my wife, to see what things looked like down there. When we got to the bottom, we noticed three door-like tunnel entrances beneath the bridge that led into an underground ‘room’ of sorts. That was when I noticed a man standing atop the bridge above us. He was watching us, his elbows resting on the guardrail.
I looked back at the tunnel entrances, then back at him, as if questioning whether we could go into the tunnels or not.
“Go on in,” he said.
We carefully stepped across the ditch, avoiding the mud, and made our way inside.
And weren’t we surprised.
Inside the doorway was a massive, classic arcade—a midway from the 1950s—filled with numerous vintage mechanical games, mini bowling, mini movie theaters, a carousel, taffy makers, penny machines of all types, pinball machines, and more. We walked through the midway in complete amazement at how well preserved everything was, and I could not help but ask: Why was it closed?
Then it dawned on me: Because it had closed long ago, was torn down, some of it buried underground, and the creator of it all—the man who designed it and who had watched hundreds of thousands of people enjoying it—was now dead. He had not crossed over. He was here on earth, attached to a few remaining relics and memories, and now he was showing it to us.
I sat on a bench at the mini movie theater next to the popcorn vending booth with the red-and-white-striped containers. It all seemed so real, as if a busload of children could be dropped off right now to enjoy it. But instead, it was silent, and it was fading into darkness.
This morning, I researched just what park from the 1950s would have been that large and popular. The only one that came up over and over was the Palisades Amusement Park in New Jersey—We were in New Jersey two months ago. Were the cords still attached? I believe they were; the cords can stay attached for years. Spirits usually show me one of three things: Something that was very special in their life, the reason why they didn’t cross, or…how they died. The response from me is generally the same in all cases; encouraging words, and a prayer.
