Dreamed I was in parallel world in which my last name was James, not Bueche, and in this parallel I was part of a large family whose matriarch owned a large old wood-sided mansion, which was currently being used as a setting (at least for exteriors) for an epic television mini-series set in the 1800s. The matriarch told us, the children or inheritors, that she planned to sell the mansion after the series aired, since the price would go up based on its exposure on the show. This made sense, and none of the inheritors could really object to the logic of it. There were many film crew people working, and the cast of extras was numerous as well — looking out a second or third floor window (fearing being in the shot, but this was evidently not a problem) I saw many extras in 1800s garb having a garden party sort of orgy on the lawn below, beside the dirt roadway that circled the mansion. I’m not sure what kind of miniseries this was, but it reminded me a bit of Caligula in that moment. So many people to look at, all in pairs. I focused on the blonde giving head. Anyway, after that, I had a discussion with the matriarch and then with some other people about how I was currently William Bueche, because my mind was awake and was currently supplanting whoever this William James was who they normally knew. I could prove I was not crazy by a slight physical difference — I could put my hand through glass as if the glass was water, although this hurt my hand a bit. In discussion with a person closer to my age who was less skeptical, I tried to narrow down where this alternate world differed from our own: taking a cue from Heinlein, I asked who was the first person to step onto the moon, and what it was that he said. Aside from some verbal preambles I wasn’t familiar with, it was still Neil Armstrong — and he even got the “one small step for *A* man” line wrong as he did here. So the worlds appeared to be the same at least since the late 1960s… but then she mentioned that about 7 or 8 years ago, the Asian Lander stopped transmitting. “What Asian lander?” I asked, and there I found a difference. In their world, several years after the US space race concluded, Japan (presumably) sent an unmanned lander to the moon, which broadcast live images for many, many years until finally puttering out. The “Asian Lander” was as well known as anything else in pop culture. So this world seemed to be different from the mid 1970s on. Later in the dream I met up with one of William James’ lovers, who was upset and confused by my stance that I was not William James (she thought it was a ruse to distance myself from her). It was she, actually, who told me about the Asian lander.
Despite being complex, this was only a dream. A lucid dream, one I could take action in. People served only to the extent that their interactions with me satisfied curiosity. They had no independent action.