Morning of June 11, 1995. Sunday.

For some unclear reason (or perhaps just to enjoy myself - though I am not lucid), I am going into a rainforest in an unknown region of Australia. My brother-in-law Bob (who has never been to Australia) is there, but the bridge collapses before he gets across to the start of the densest rainforest. Since I am already on the other side and cannot get back across after that, I just "absentmindedly" continue in the direction I had been going. Later on, I am "adopted" by a more-traditional tribe of Australian Aboriginal people who had apparently not had much contact with other cultures. At one point, some of them are seemingly killed by an (I assume) unexpected invasion of a type of large (not giant) bee.

For some reason we eventually travel to a futuristic city and the buildings are alarmingly high, with many areas of disconcerting semidarkness in walking amidst the buildings at ground level. There are impersonal computerized features everywhere (reminding me a bit of my stay in Japan but more-so the movie "Blade Runner"). Somehow, we have entered the year 2049 (which for some reason is not the first time this year featured in one of my dreams, though not that often and seemingly not as more consistently significant). I carry a strong concern about getting back to my wife and son from that point and develop a growing sadness of my absence from their lives (fictional - I was never "absent" from them at any point in reality). At one point, I look in a telephone book and see my last name, and see what may be the name of a grandson (presumed) though I do not recall the other names, which seem like Native American ceremonial names. Eventually, problematic authorities appear and do not believe who I am when I talk about getting back to "my time" and back to my wife and son.

Somehow, we all elude the authorities who are growing suspicious of our presence and end up going back into the rainforest earlier than when we left by which the bridge had not collapsed yet (though, in contrast to a potential paradox, we do not meet our previous selves at any point). I am grateful that I will be able to cross back and get to my wife and son.