You are in a DREAM WINDOW




Dream Visions of Alois Irlmaier's Dust of Death


The airplanes drop a yellow powder between the Black Sea and the North Sea. Thus a death strip is created, straight from the Black Sea to the North Sea, as wide as half of Bavaria. In this zone no grass can grow let alone humans live...

The pilots throw off their small black boxes. They do explode, before they touch the soil, and spread a yellow or green smoke or dust. What comes into contact with this becomes dead, whether it is human, animal or plant. For one year no organism is allowed to enter this area, otherwise it will expose itself to the largest mortal danger...

During the war the big darkness comes, which last 72 hours. It will become dark at a day during the war... Please do not go out of the house at this time... Outside the death by dust goes around, many humans die.

-- Alois Irlmaeir



McClellan (2/23/95):

I did not have the sense that there were three days of unnatural darkness. To me, it was simply nighttime. I was walking the city streets, noting very few other human beings doing the same. I walked to the suburbs, where I saw an occasional shadow of a person dart out before me in the distance. Nearly all the houses were dark inside or deserted in appearance. I sensed that no one lived (or was alive) in most of them. When I turned the corner and walked down a familiar street, I noticed a green, vaguely luminous 'snow' falling everywhere. It was already on the ground and on the trees and shrubs. I had a sense that many people were dead, and an overwhelming sense of sorrow. The time in my dream, by the way, was the month of October, not far from Halloween.



Conor (June 2000):

June 2000 had five entries referring to a yellow acid smog. What was written was five short sentences on a smog that melted people when they came in contact with it. I was standing in my hometown looking out at sea, Wexford is the south eastern most town in Ireland, the yellow acid smog was blowing across from the east as the sun rose and it blotted out the sun, I then turned west and saw the sun set three times one after the other. I had that dream five times, in each I knew it was dangerous but never saw it melt anyone, I just knew it because I was told, I also knew that it was the summer.



Harmonia (2/12/01):

I myself have been having visions, of the time when the yellow gas comes. I usually don't see the enviroment but I do see what happens to the people who contact the yellow gas. It's like they're already dead, and then they shrivel up like the Egyptian sand mummies, their pupils expand, and then, after a while, I'm not sure how long, they just die.



Comments (MM):

Conor's yellow acid smog dreams seem to concur with several other emails I have received about a yellow gas.  Everyone sees it a bit differently, but the yellow 'something' is always very deadly -- like Irlmaier's yellow dust or powder.  I appear to be the only one who has seen this as a green snow (bear in mind that dust or powder particles might also appear as 'snow' particles).

The fact that Conor saw the sun set three times in succession in his dreams may symbolise the three days of darkness warned of in Marian prophesy (also Irlmaier's '72 hours of darkness').

Irlmaier says no one should be outdoors.  Still, Conor seems to be out and about at the time when he sees this smog roll in from the east.  He also senses the smog is 'melting' people.

In my dream, I sense the green snow has already brought death as I walk about in a ghost city. But why is it that I and a small number of other people are able to walk safely in the deadly 'snow?'

Either we're immune or else we're being permitted to see what is happening outside ONLY in our dreams.




Platforms facing offNovember 29, 2003 (McClellan) -- A few days ago, on November 25, 2003, I had my first action dream of World War III in Europe. Prior to this, the only dream I have had regarding the eventual war in Europe was one where I was reading the news, looking at a photo, and learning that Russia had invaded or entered Italy from the north. Other than that, all my other dreams regarding the war on terror and World War III had largely dealt with the Middle East, the Persian Gulf, the Pacific theatre, a glimpse at India, Pakistan, and Southern Africa during the coming of PX, and a Russian nuclear attack on the United States ... until now.

I was in an enclosed army vehicle along with a company commander. A young soldier seemed to be running towards us, but he was actually running for his life. He held out one hand in our direction and I saw it suddenly turn dark brown and black. It looked less like a hand and more like steaming, blackened mitten. He began waving it wildly in pain and I could hear his screams. I could see heat waves and steam rising from his charred hand, now crumbling into flakes, but no smoke. Then the blackness spread along his arm as he writhed about violently. I saw it reach his face. We knew instinctively what was happening and recoiled in horror. In the space of a minute he lie on the ground, a charred corpse.

Then a small boy from the village, an innocent casualty, came near our vehicle and we watched the same event take place, knowing there was nothing that could be done. His pitiful screams filled my ears and I wanted to, but couldn't, block them out.

It was the yellow dust our pilots were dropping from the planes high above us and from the rockets our artillery was launching that was sowing the field with the blackened dead. For some reason it could not reach us in our special vehicle, but it was killing everything and everyone it came in contact with outside. Even the enemy soldiers inside of their tanks were not immune. I had no idea what made us so.

We were somewhere in Europe, I knew. Judging from the many large forested hills, mountains, and valleys, I figured we were somewhere in Central Europe.

I asked the company commander what the enemy was using against us. "Nerve gas," he said. Novichok, sarin, chemicals I never heard of, all of it really nasty stuff, worse than anything purported to be in the Iraqi arsenal back in 2003. I knew this was Russia we were at war with.

As we drove into a forested region, I could see what appeared to be a white fog clinging to the hollows and hills of the wooded valleys. I cannot say for certain the "fog" was nerve gas, but if it wasn't then it must have been phosphorus gas -- it was not a natural fog. Underneath the misty film in the trenches we could not see were dead men -- our men, our soldiers.

As is typical with dreams, the scene changed, and I was at the top of an enclosed observation deck. Across the valley was another platform facing ours, not quite as tall and more crudely made. As sophisticated as our platform and equipment on it appeared, I was led to understand that it and others like it were pre-fabriquated and could be quickly erected in the space of a single day. I cannot say for certain this was also the case with our adversary.

We were high above the gas which clung to the ground as fog -- about 200 feet above ground-level. The gas couldn't reach us. A technician was at work installing some sort of electromagnetic-pulse device. Some fellow soldiers were kidding him for being so slow.

I looked out with binoculars at the enemy platform, white trails from our artillery shells or missiles (whichever) disappearing into the distance. Tall Russian officers were giving orders to swarthy-looking soldiers in brown and green camouflage fatigues who appeared shorter in contrast. They were Afghans, Iranians, or Arabs -- it was hard to tell for certain.

So it appeared that Russia and the Iranian-led Moslem states were not only allied, but the militaries were working together under joint command structures.

I was also aware that nuclear weapons had not yet been used -- at least not here in Europe. Only the Russian nerve gas and our yellow powder that burned quickly on contact.

I was all too happy to wake up. It was much uglier than I can really describe.




Dream and Vision 2000-2004 Conor

Dream and Vision 2001-2004 Harmonia

Dream and Vision 1995-2004 Michael McClellan

Commentary/Interpretation 2001-2004 Michael McClellan





Where poetry, visions, and dreams become one