Dreams of My Unborn Grandson

The following Saturday, October 6, 1990, Crystal and Mike stopped by for a visit and stayed for lunch. I shared my dream with them, including the fact that the baby in the dream was a boy. Crystal responded with, “That’s nice, dad, but Mike and I know it’s a girl.”

Dreams of My Unborn Grandson

by Roger A. “Pete” Peterson

The secrets of the universe are hidden in the details of our experience. – Pete

My grandson, Jordan, was born at Kaiser Permanente Medical Center, 401 Bicentennial Way, Santa Rosa, California, Wednesday, November 21, 1990, at 5:25 p.m. to my daughter Crystal. Her husband, Mike, and my wife, Sandra, took Lamaze classes with her and were present during the delivery.

Tuesday, October 2, 1990, almost seven weeks before Jordan was born, I recorded my first dream of him. It was one of several dreams I remembered and recorded that night.

Dream # 1, October 2, 1990:

In the dream, Sandra and I are playing with a small boy (our unborn grandson?) in someone’s fenced-in back yard. Mike’s parents are there at first so I assume it’s their back yard. Soon they disappear and Sandra and I are left alone with the young boy we assume is our grandson. After playing on the lawn  awhile, we see another building in the back yard. It looks like a large playroom. The building contains a large trampoline and some other play equipment. I remember jumping on this same trampoline about a year earlier in another dream. In that dream, it collapsed on me.

There’s a man inside the playroom examining the trampoline. He tells me he sold it to the owner and he’s back to figure out why it collapsed on me a year earlier (What took him so long?).  I still don’t know for sure who owns the trampoline, or whether or not we’re at Mike’s parent’s house. The building we’re in seems to be too big to be part of a home. The trampoline salesman determines that the trampoline was set up wrong and shows me how to set it up properly so it won’t collapse again.

The following Saturday, October 6, 1990, Crystal and Mike stopped by for a visit and stayed for lunch. I shared my dream with them, including the fact that the baby in the dream was a boy. Crystal responded with, “That’s nice, dad, but Mike and I know it’s a girl.” How do you know that, I asked, did you have a sonogram or amniocentesis? She said “I had a sonogram and nothing (meaning a penis) showed up that suggested it was a boy.” Although a sonogram, or echo location, can show the sex of a baby if it’s in the right position, its primary purpose is to show the size, condition, and position of the fetus, and the placenta, within the uterus. According to Crystal, even the technician who conducted the exam believed she was going to have a girl, although she did add, “But I wouldn’t paint the room just yet.” As a result of the sonogram, Crystal was convinced she was going to have a daughter. Mike believed this too, so I decided not to push the issue and finished with, Well, that’s what I dreamed, honey. I just wanted to share it with you.

Another subject that came up during the course of our conversation was baby names. Crystal and Mike had already chosen names for both a boy and a girl. For a boy, they chose the name Jordan.

October 17, 1990, two weeks after my first dream, I had a second dream.

Dream # 2, October 17, 1990:

The unfamiliar apartment is small and cluttered . There’s an overstuffed couch and matching chair in the center  of the room. The kitchenette is off the living room to the right beyond the couch. A sewing machine table stands at the far end of the couch and a small dining table with three chairs around it is pushed up against the front wall of the apartment, which extends out to form an alcove, surrounding the table with three windows.  An ironing board is standing upright against the wall, near the kitchen table. Except for the area around the couch, stacks of boxes with clothing on top are scattered around the living room, forming pathways between them.  A very pregnant Crystal is standing in front of the couch with her dress pulled up. Her legs are spread apart and she’s looking down over her swollen stomach with a look of pain and growing alarm.

Behind the couch, Sandra’s arguing with Crystal’s doctor. She tells him that “Crystal is about to have her baby,” while the doctor argues back, “She is not, her cervix is only dilated two centimeters!” Angrily, Sandra says, “I don’t care how much her cervix is dilated, she’s going to have her baby right now!” Meanwhile, I’m standing in front of Crystal, evaluating her condition. I recall that many years ago, in waking reality, I was a Medical Service Specialist (Medic) in the Air Force. I worked in Obstetrics (OB) for about a year and remember that two centimeters of cervical dilation is considered to be an early stage of labor. However, in Crystal’s case, I too sense she’s about to have her baby. Responding to my “inner” knowing, I quickly dismiss the squeamish thought that putting my hand between my daughter’s legs is wrong, and reach down to catch the baby, to keep it from falling on the floor. I think to myself, “There’s no way I’m going to stand by and watch my grandchild hit the floor because of a fearful hang-up about how a father should relate to his daughter.”

Once my hand is in place the birthing process begins. I watch in awe as the baby’s hands and arms forcefully emerge from Crystal’s body, to firmly grasp my wrist. When we tell the doctor Crystal’s having her baby, he still refuses to believe us, and emphasizes that fact by pointedly refusing to look in our direction. He just keeps telling Sandra that “It’s too soon for Crystal to have her baby”. It’s as if everything that’s happening goes against everything he’s learned, and he’s not going to believe anything we say to the contrary. I put my other hand down between Crystal’s legs just in time to catch the baby, as it literally pulls itself out of Crystal’s womb. In one powerful act of creative aggression, the baby delivers itself into the world and my waiting hands.

Holding the baby in my arms, I look around for clamps to tie off the umbilical cord and a pair of scissors to cut it with. As I conduct my search, the cord dries up and separates by itself. Pale and exhausted, Crystal collapses back onto the couch in relief. She lies with her back flat on the seat of the couch with her head propped up against the back. Concerned she might continue bleeding if her placenta isn’t removed, I switch the baby to my left arm, and with my right hand, deliver Crystal’s placenta. Unable to find an appropriate container for it, I lay it on her now concave stomach. She’s too tired to object. My next highest priority is to find something to wrap the baby in.

Wandering through the clutter of boxes and furniture, I find the first potential baby wrap. It’s my green terry cloth bathrobe. Looking from my bathrobe to the baby and seeing the still-moist blood and vernix (a waxy protective substance all babies are born with) on its skin, I decide to reject it as a wrap. The thought of putting my bathrobe on with blood and vernix on it makes me shudder, even if this is my grandchild. The next possible wrap I encounter is an old woolen army blanket. I quickly reject this as too rough for the baby’s skin. Finally, I spot the white cotton/polyester blanket that I use now on my own bed, and that Crystal and Evan (my son) both used when they were growing up. This blanket holds one of my fondest memories of Crystal. When she was small, she used to pick fuzzies off this blanket. Clamping the fuzzy between her right index and middle finger, she would take turns sniffing  it into her nostril and rubbing it against her nose while sucking her thumb. As she sniffed her fuzzy and sucked her thumb, her eyes would contain a thoughtful, faraway look that made me wonder where she was. Recalling the blanket’s history, I decide it’s the perfect wrap for Crystal’s baby.

While much of my attention was occupied with finding something to wrap the baby in, I couldn’t help but notice that, as we moved about the room, the baby seemed very alert and curious. It reached out to touch almost everything we passed.  When I walked by the ironing board, for example, the baby reached out and  dragged its hand across the surface. What the baby couldn’t touch, it studied with interest from a distance. It seems eager to know and understand everything.

Between the hubbub of the delivery and the argument going on between my wife and the doctor behind the couch, I suddenly realized I didn’t know the sex of the baby. All this while I assumed it was a boy but didn’t know for sure. Holding the baby up, I take a good look before wrapping it in the blanket. Sure enough, it’s a boy! Jordan has arrived. 

Wrapping the blanket around Jordan and holding him against my chest, I return to Crystal to check her condition. She’s recovering nicely from her ordeal and looks quite relaxed and comfortable. Behind the couch, Sandra is consoling the now distraught doctor. He’s upset because he was so busy denying that Crystal was having her baby he missed being there when she needed him. With Jordan still in my arms, I wake up in this reality to record my dream.

Wednesday, November 21, 1990, Jordan is born

The day Jordan was born, I drove my regular bus route. At that time, I worked an afternoon and evening shift Monday through Friday, which kept me busy until after eight p.m. This made it impossible for me to attend evening Lamaze classes with Crystal, Sandra, and Mike. As a result, the morning Crystal went into labor I went to work as usual and only Sandra and Mike accompanied her to the hospital. They arrived at the hospital at 10:30 a.m. Crystal’s uterus was dilated 4 centimeters.

Of some comfort to me that morning was the knowledge that my bus would pass by Kaiser Hospital several times during my shift. Knowing I would see the hospital from time to time made me feel like I could participate at some level in the delivery. We all wanted to see a healthy baby and a happy, healthy mother.

The first time I drove by the hospital, early in the afternoon, I felt excited but my thoughts were limited to Crystal’s labor. Later that evening, as I returned to Santa Rosa from the Guerneville/Russian River area, I became excited. Sitting in the front seat, across the isle from me, was a friendly, middle-aged woman. We had been engaged in a pleasant conversation, but as we neared Kaiser Hospital, my thoughts turned increasingly to Crystal. When we actually approached the hospital, it was 5:25 p.m., my scheduled arrival time at that stop. Spontaneously, I pointed my finger up at the top floor in the middle of the new inpatient medical wing, and blurted out, “My daughter’s up there having her baby!”

As these words came out, my rational mind was taking exception. Why did you say that? There’s no way you can know she’s having her baby right now and what room she’s in. First pregnancy labor can last several days. Choosing to ignore these rude challenges to my spontaneous reaction, I continued talking to my new friend about Crystal. She knew Crystal was nine months pregnant and that she had entered Kaiser Hospital in labor that morning. I had also told her about my two “grandson” dreams and how, as the result of the sonogram, my daughter and her husband firmly believed they were going to have a baby girl.

My passenger and I were both intrigued by the contradiction that existed between the information received in my dreams, and the results of the sonogram. As we drove on, we were both excited about learning the outcome. Was it a boy or a girl? Twelve to fifteen minutes after passing Kaiser Hospital, we entered the downtown Santa Rosa Transit Mall. As I turned into the Mall, I received a radio transmission from the Dispatch Office at the bus company. The dispatcher told me to “Call your wife at Kaiser Hospital as soon as possible, she has good news for you.” After bringing the bus to a stop, I took down the telephone number and thanked the dispatcher. Then I said goodbye to the woman I had been talking to on the bus.

When Sandra answered the phone, she told me Crystal had given birth to a baby boy at 5:25 p.m., the exact moment I pointed my finger up at the third floor of the hospital and spontaneously blurted out, “My daughter’s up there having her baby!” After work, I quickly drove home, changed, and drove to the hospital. When I was directed to Crystal’s room, the one she gave birth to Jordan in*, I was shocked. It was the same room I had pointed to earlier.

* Unlike many hospitals, every patient room in the Obstetrics Department at Kaiser Hospital in Santa Rosa is set up for in-room delivery and patient recovery.

Wow, how do you explain an experience like this? And this isn’t the end of the story!

During labor Crystal had experienced complications. For one thing, her regular doctor wasn’t there. He scheduled time off for Thanksgiving, which was the following day. During labor, Crystal started retaining fluids and her blood pressure shot up to 151/96. As a result, she developed edema or swelling in her extremities. Afraid of toxemia, a condition that occurs in 5-10% of all pregnancies, the attending physician broke her amniotic sack at 12:30 p.m. and started her on an IV containing Pitocin, a synthetic form of oxytocin, the hormone that controls uterine contractions. Pitocin is used to speed up contractions and shorten labor. If left untreated, toxemia can result in seizures or worse. The only cure for toxemia is delivery of the baby. Until the baby’s delivery at 5:25 p.m. there was great concern about Crystal’s fluctuating blood pressure and the swelling in her extremities.

Learning about these complications now, I realize I must have been aware of them intuitively because as I drove around Sonoma County on my bus route, I felt great concern for Crystal and the baby that went beyond normal concerns for someone giving birth. In response to these “feelings” I projected thoughts of reassurance and calm at Crystal and the baby. All afternoon, I kept affirming to her that everything was going to be okay. It was as if part of me was with her helping to balance and calm energies that could have gone in several different directions, some of which I didn’t want to think about.

In Crystal’s hospital room after work, I learned that during the delivery the attending physician, a woman, told Crystal she had a baby girl. Seeing the baby from another angle, Crystal’s husband, Mike, who evidently had a better view, corrected her and said “It’s a boy!” Surprised, the doctor took another look and corrected herself with “Oops, you’re right, it is a boy!” When I asked Crystal what she was thinking about while Mike and the doctor were reaching agreement on the sex of the baby, she said, “At the time, the only thought on my mind was, I don’t care what sex the baby is. Stop talking and get the placenta out of me!’”

After the delivery everything settled down. Crystal’s only complaint was having to smell fish-breath all afternoon. In a hurry, Sandra had thrown together the best and quickest meal she could think of for her and Mike, tuna fish sandwiches. Sandra was too excited to think about potential breath problems. Of course, if Crystal gets pregnant again, I think tuna fish sandwiches for her helpers will be off the menu.

There are interesting parallels between Dream # 1 and waking reality.  Several years after Jordan was born Mike’s parents bought a trampoline just like the one in my dreams.  When I saw it in their back yard I knew their house and back yard was the one in my dream. Their back yard is fenced in and has a play area, although the trampoline sits out in the open and there’s no playroom outside the house.  

The playroom in my dream served to isolate our experience within the dream. Sandra, Jordan, and I had entered the building to play on the trampoline. Inside the building we were surprised by a man who stood up to see us. He said he was checking the trampoline to see why it collapsed on me a year earlier, which reminded me of the “collapsing trampoline dream” I had at that time. Why? Did that dream have something to do with Jordan too, that long before Crystal got pregnant? Is this my inner self reminding me to pay more attention to my dreams and the nature of consciousness? I don’t know.

Dream # 2 has even more parallels with waking reality. The cluttered apartment reflects Crystal’s housekeeping style at that time in her life and it may also have reflected the clutter of additional people and equipment needed as a result of her troubled labor. While she was in labor, she told me there were many hospital personnel  in and out of her room every few minutes to monitor her condition. A hospital shift change also occurred while Crystal was in labor, which further added to the atmosphere of clutter and confusion.

It was interesting that Crystal’s doctor wasn’t there for her when she needed him; he had scheduled time off for the Thanksgiving Holiday. Does this reflect the fact that her doctor was arguing with Sandra in the dream and wasn’t there for her in reality when she needed him? In my dream he was standing behind the couch arguing that Crystal wasn’t ready to have her baby, that “…her cervix is only dilated two centimeters!” Like in my dream, Crystal’s labor progressed much faster than expected for a first term pregnancy, even though, in waking reality, it was artificially induced with the drug, Pitocin, to speed things up.

My presence during the delivery in the dream is particularly interesting. In physical reality, I was actually driving a bus but, in spiritual terms, I was with Crystal the entire time. Somehow, I was intuitively aware of her condition and responded to this “inner knowing” by sending her loving and calming energy to help balance her energy and facilitate her delivery. In a way, I was as much with her while driving the bus as I was in the dream, where I literally helped her deliver the baby. My two dreams of Jordan are another indication of my active participation in his birth. Crystal was upset with me for not taking Lamaze classes with her, Sandra and Mike but it would have meant missing many days of work and not knowing whether or not I could get off when she went into labor. It’s no easy matter for a bus company to find replacements for drivers on short notice.

Knowing the baby would soon arrive and that we would know for sure whether my dreams or the sonogram had been correct, added to our anticipation. With my dreams, it seemed like I was as much involved as anyone in helping Jordan enter the world, which may explain why the following, very unusual, incident occurred three months after he was born.

First, let me touch on the fact that in my dreams, much of Jordan’s personality was made evident. The playground and inclusion of the trampoline, his reaching out to curiously and lovingly touch the ironing board, all these things say something about who he is. In reality, he’s very athletic, loving, and curious. He wants to know everything and is very aware of his dreams. As his grandfather, I feel blessed by having had these precognitive Dreams of My Unborn Grandson.

An Out of Body Experience

About three months after Jordan was born I had another strange experience, involving him. Lying in bed, I was just drifting off to sleep when I heard something scramble up the outside wall of the house and enter my bedroom through the closed window. Landing with a thump on the floor and climbing up the side of my chest bed, it crawled under the sheets and nestled against my bare stomach. Alarmed by this startling intrusion, my first thought is, it’s a large spider and it’s going to bite me. Before backing away, I telepathically yell, What the hell are you? With dawning recognition, I ask, Is this you, Jordan?

Still agitated, I yell back, What the hell are you doing here? You’re supposed to be home in bed! Despite my shock and surprise, part of me watches him for a reaction. Maybe he just wanted to do something adventuresome, like visit the soul who played with him and helped him be born in the dream world. Confused and upset by my reaction, Jordan left and returned home. When he was gone, I regretted my reaction and wished I had had the presence of mind to stay calm and open to this unique experience. What could we have learned about reality and the nature of consciousness if our experience had unfolded in a loving, relaxed atmosphere? Still, there’s much to learn from this experience just the way it happened. To know these kinds of experiences can happen to us in the first place is interesting enough, and since it happened to me, I wonder how many people have experienced the same thing or something like it. It seems to me that parents, mothers, especially, would have intuitive interactions with their unborn children and possibly, nighttime, out-of-body visits from them. I’ll bet there are many stories waiting to be told.


Do experiences like these have any real meaning or significance in life? Do they provide us with useful insight into who we are and what reality is? Like all experiences, dreams have a validity of their own. These are the dreams I recorded at the time I had them. Not only did I write them down in my Dream Journal, I shared them with family and friends at home and on the bus before Jordan was born. The out-of- body experience is as I remember it. It wasn’t recorded in my Dream Journal.

The problem science has with dreams and other similar events is that they cannot be duplicated, but does that make them any less valid? The fact that we can have an experience like this is what’s important, is it not? If any parent or grandparent had precognitive dreams about their children or grandchildren like the ones I describe above, would they want to deny them because they’re not considered “real” or valid by others? I don’t think so. On the other hand, are people who don’t value dreams or intuitive impressions likely to have, or pay attention to experiences like these? Probably not – we tend to pay attention to those areas of consciousness and experience that are materially related. The rest, we forget, or filter out because we’ve come to believe they’re not real. In essence, we get what we concentrate on.

Most of us agree we have dreams, whether we remember them or not. So what does the fact that we can walk, talk, hear, feel, fly, learn, materialize and dematerialize, and otherwise interact in dreams tell us about who we are? We know we have physical senses that enable us to interact with waking reality and events. What do we use when we dream? We aren’t using our physical senses; our bodies are lying asleep in bed. How, then, can we have “inner” experiences like those described above, without “inner” senses, without inner awareness and the ability to think and act independent of our bodies? Isn’t consciousness and energy, awareness and action the foundation for all of our experience? And “reality“, isn’t that where our attention is focused in the moment, where experience is taking place? I was completely present in my dreams. And in Jordan’s out-of-body experience, I was present in both waking reality and inner reality, simultaneously, using both my inner and outer senses. Who are we? What’s reality? And, what’s the purpose of life? There’s much for us to learn about ourselves.

If you’ve had experiences similar to my grandson dreams or Jordan’s out-of-body experience, please submit them to rap@realtalkworld.com for possible publication. By building an archive or repository of information that describes the nature of our inner, subjective experience, we’ll learn more about who we are, what reality is, and what the purpose of life is.

Copyright © 1997, Roger A. “Pete” Peterson


We are not human beings having a spiritual experience. We are spiritual beings having a human experience. – Pierre Teilhard de Chardin

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