Morning of February 9, 1976. Monday.
Nothing dramatic happens here, but my dream seems to last a long time throughout the morning. Jesus Christ, in large seemingly layered mainly white robes, seems to appear standing on our roof on the northeast area near the chimney my father built, and the concept of “rooftop Heaven” comes to mind, as well as a “Heaven” association with my dream girl (who turned out to be Zsuzsanna in every way possible, including the unlikely mixed accent of Romani Hungarian and Australian). Over time, I see miniature clouds moving through our backyard (autosymbolism for the dream state itself), not that high from the ground. It seems to be late afternoon. (Note that I am not religious and have zero interest in religious dogma despite experiencing a few miraculous healings as well as inexplicable events continuously since childhood, including my inexplicable connection to Zsuzsanna long before we met in waking life.)
I consider this precognitive at one level, because my real wife-to-be (and I was not to make waking-life contact with Zsuzsanna for years, until March 1991) lived in Heaven when younger, a real town name in Nimbin.