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Edge of the World? (precognitive)

Saturday, May 29 1965

        Morning of May 29, 1965. Saturday. (Memorial Day weekend - age four.)        In an odd "twist" on comical partial precognition (which has been very common for me throughout my life), I dreamt (semi-lucid) at age four, in Chipmunk Coulee in Wisconsin, that my father drove us to the "edge of the world" just beyond the end of a road that just stopped. There, a thin red devil (with a narrow beard) danced with a pitchfork in an almos


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