Author: Denise

(Sunday, February 15, 2026)

I finished reading Edgar Cayce’s biography yesterday afternoon. Early this morning, maybe around four o’clock a.m., I dreamt of a very simple white hospital bed, similar to those used to transfer patients from the ER to surgery. In the dream I knew it was Cayce’s, although in reality he would lie flat on a couch before he fell asleep to do his readings. This bed was tilted very slightly towards me. Not completely flat.

At first I assumed I had this dream because I just finished “There is a River.” But since I contacted my Mayo neurologist for a second time yesterday, through the portal, the dream may be about getting trained soon to use the electrical device. I hope that is the message. I have been waiting a long time to try Cayce’s treatment.

Day notes:

Quite often lately I have the sensation that Edgar visits me in my dreams, even though I never have a vision of his past physical body. He is unseen, a telepathic spiritual guide.

(Saturday, Valentine’s Day, 2026)

A tall, middle-aged woman has a chore for me. I am constructing a game that has a series of parts. The first two elements I work with are shallow boxes made of steel. I have a batch of tiny colorful stones, pebbles, that are meant to fill the boxes. When the game is ready, children will search the pebbles with one hand for a small, decorated card-like piece, also made of metal.

I want the two boxes to have an identical amount of stones, so I ask a nearby young man if I can use his scale. He says yes. I am able to weigh each box to assure the pebbles are at the same depth, the same amount. It all goes well.

Next I need to work on a shelf (against a wall to my left) that has two rows and three layers. Six shallow steel boxes. Immediately, I am frustrated because these boxes are much wider than the first two, maybe twice as wide. And the woman in charge doesn’t bother to provide me with any more stones. I ask other workers if they have pebbles. Someone says yes. But what they provide are large, rectangular bits of wood, maybe cardboard. I keep trying to find a way to finish creating this children’s game, but the dream dissolves before I become aware of a solution.

Day notes:

My grandkids are here today. On Thursday we played a card game I got them for Christmas that is full of true-and-false questions. We have played it twice. I would like to find the next version (there might be a total of six at the Kiddy Wampus toy store).

Maybe the first two small boxes are just an introduction, a demonstration of the game. Maybe it is my role to create the actual game out of the larger steel boxes. Find my own creative elements.

Whenever Wyn arrives, he runs up the stairs to start “gaming.“

Last week I donated some art materials for our immigrant residents who are afraid to leave home. I gave away two large bags of beautiful, colored pieces of (unsharp) glass that look like crystals, gems.

(Thursday, February 12, 2026)

Dreaming well at night with leftover fragments. I dream I am sleeping and awaken at 1:06 pm. Immediately I realize I was supposed to attend a birthday party for my neighbor Jim at noon (12 pm). I rush out of bed to get dressed.

Another dream is about being in a large, dark forest at the edge of a northern lake. It is dark because the trees are ancient: tall and thick. I walk from the grassy shore into the woods. Much happens, but I don’t recall what occurs during the hike. My only memory is the joy of spending time in the forest.

Day notes:

Cindy’s Decoding class makes me wonder about 1:06. The sum is 7. I’m sure she would see much more than numerology about this time of day. Maybe she would focus on one-hundred-six. The house next-door is 106 Rustic Lodge, but Jim’s address is 107 (directly across the street). One definition of 7: highly mystical and spiritual, often associated with introspection, inner wisdom, and a deep connection to the divine.

106 – 12 = 94, 9 + 4 = 13, 1 + 3 = 4. One definition of 4: stability, grounding and balance. Earth, air, fire and water. North, south, east and west.

The greenery of nature (forests and prairies) are a recent theme. Mansions are a theme from many years of dreams. But dreaming about dreaming is a more recent, recurrent theme. I wonder about that. The first time I read anything about this was in anthropologist Carlos Castaneda’s 1968 book “The Teachings of Don Juan.” The cover has a raven standing on a desert, with rocky mountains at the edge. When I am done with Edgar Cayce’s biography, I might buy Castaneda’s book. I did just order his last one, “The Art of Dreaming,” from Hennepin County Library.