Former Assistant Professor of Psychology at Princeton University, and now Professor Emeritus of Transpersonal Psychology at Edgar Cayce's Atlantic University, Henry Reed is considered to be the father of the modern dream-work movement. He discussed his research into dream ESP in which a group of people dream on behalf of someone else. "When a group of people agree to dream for the undisclosed problem of somebody in distress... the dreams together, collectively, bring out commonalities that point to the person's problem and things that could be done about it," Reed said.
The dreamers discover they can remember their dreams and contribute useful information to help the troubled person resolve the dilemma, he continued. According to Reed, this phenomenon can be achieved online or through emails, and anyone can successfully replicate it to have a dream ESP experience. Reed's method typically involves seven or eight dreamers who agree to remember a dream for a volunteer. It does not appear each individual's dream is meaningful until the group shares them and finds the commonalities that speak to that person's problem, he explained. Reed suggested dream ESP works because of altruism, empathy, and our connectedness to one another.
During Open Lines, several callers shared their scary bug stories. Mary in Phoenix, Arizona, told George about scorpions in her region that crawl across the ceiling and drop onto people. "I woke up one morning... I looked up and there was a scorpion right above me, and it dropped down right then," she said. Cats are fearless with them and chase them out of the house, Mary added. She also warned listeners to shake out shoes as scorpions hide out in them.
Tom from the Bronx recounted the time his neighbor's house got painted, and a roach ran through the wet paint which hardened forcing it to walk upright. "I saw the roach... and it ran like Jiminy Cricket, I swear," he recalled. Auntie M in Oahu, Hawaii, revealed she was listening to Coast to Coast one night in bed, felt something moving under her armpit, and found a seven-inch-long centipede hanging there. Auntie M admitted to cutting off the giant centipede with scissors.