Dream Detective - Chris Robinson sees every detail of crimes and disasters ... before they've happened

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TRANSCRIPT from Woman's Day [USA] on 1 April 1996

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DREAM DETECTIVE - Chris Robinson sees every detail of crimes and disasters ... before they've happened

Chris Robinson's experiences with dreams really began in 1989, during a period of upheaval in his life, when Chris was in his late 30s. He was living in a caravan in a mobile homes park doing odd jobs. He had just become a father again.

One night, Chris was staying with a friend and was woken by what he thought was his child crying. Then he realised that he could hear a voice in the room -his grandmother's voice. 
But his grandmother had been dead for several years.

Chris could hear her voice clearly, as though she were standing next to him. "Christopher," she said, "someone is trying to steal your car."

Chris found himself in a half-dream state, accepting it as fact that he was talking to his dead grandmother. "Nan, the car's not here, it's at home. By the time I get a taxi or walk there, it'll be long gone. Anyway," he added, wanting to get back to sleep, "it's insured."

"Don't worry, Christopher," his· grandmother said, "I'll do something about it."

The next afternoon, as Chris reached home, one of his neighbours came over to see him. 

"Something strange happened in the middle of the night," she said. "There was a blinding light, and we heard a voice. My husband got up and looked out of the window. There were these blokes trying to break into your car, so he chased them off. He spent the rest of the night sitting up, guarding it."

Chris checked the car, and it was perfectly all right. He thanked his neigh-bours, then went back tn the caravan and thought about what had happened. Had his grandmother saved his car? 

I to went to the local church and pruyod to both his grandmother and grundfather, thanking them. He had no idea that this was the beginning of something. He simply put it down to a strange  coincidence.

Chris was flying over water. There was a man below him, in the water, in some distress. Chris knew the man was going to die and flew down to help him. The stranger had fallen off a boat that Chris could see in the distance, sailing away from them. The man said: "It's all right for you - you're going back to your body in the morning. I'm not."

It was frightening, and Chris woke with a start. He found an old letter by the side of the bed, scribbled down a few details of his strange dream, then went back to sleep.

Two days later there was an item on the news about an ex-soldier who had fallen overboard from a ferry bound for Sweden, and had drowned.

Chris had mentioned the dream to a policeman whom he had been assisting with an investigation concerning some ex-colleagues. He had also told his friend Trevor Kempson, a News Of The World journalist.

A week later, the same boat was involved in another incident. Chris already had a feeling that something terrible was going to happen to the boat, and had told the police. The boat was carrying a consignment of beagles to Sweden. Nearly all of the dogs died, suffocating from lack of oxygen.

The night after the incident, the soldier appeared again in Chris's dreams, and told him that he was going to set the boat alight. The next morning Chris was on the phone to his police contacts, telling them of his dream. And then, in the same spot where authorities were sure the soldier had drowned, the sister-boat to the first ferry caught fire.

The summer went on, and a few dreams came and went. Having no proper records, Chris can't recall the exact details.

But by now the police were becoming extremely interested. Two officers took over the job of dealing with Chris and, if not monitoring him, then, at the very least, keeping an eye on his dreams.

Chris felt ill-at-ease with his dreams. There had been an accumulation of data all about planes. Chris filled a whole page of a notebook, which he now kept by his bed to record his dreams, and among his notes were the words: plane, end, die, gone to airport on way home and CRASH.

Next morning he spoke to Paul Aylott, a local detective inspector, and said: "I think there's going to be a plane crash, and people will die. I don't know how many, but I've got the number 93. It's going to come down in a bunker. And I think it's going to be Valentine's Day. There are Asians on the plane. But the real clue is some chemicals."

It was actually on February 15 that Aylott and Chris next spoke. An Air India plane had crashed in India, into a bunker on a golf course, killing 93 people. It had exploded coming in to land over the town of Bhopal. That was the link with chemicals: Bhopal was the scene of a chemical works explosion in the late 1970s which had left many dead and the inhabitants of the town with long-term health problems.

The month of February ended with a premonition of a train crash. Chris dreamt that he was on a commuter train running towards a junction where the line was closed. The passengers were quite unaware of what was about to happen. He phoned Paul Aylott when he awoke, and said: "There's going to be a train crash in Penge [an area in south London], but I don't know when." 
And on the night of February 28, Chris received a phone call from Paul. "There's been a train crash in Penge." 

As Chris put down the phone, he began to wonder what his other dreams of the past month might mean. He had dreamt he was sawing the top off a radiator and repairing a hole in the pipes of a washing machine. He also had the words water and WATER-leek written on the page. Why had he spelt leek that way?

The answer became obvious within the next day or two, when torrential rai  caused flooding in parts of Wales. Not only had he been repairing potential flood risks in radiators and washing machines, he had written about a water leak with a double meaning: leek being the vegetable with which the Welsh are associated, and also an obvious mis-spelling of the world leak. If nothing else, this showed that his subconscious had a sense  of humour.

Chris had uneasy dreams. In one of them, he dreamt about the smuggling of mercury detonators, the type used in nuclear weapons. There were also hints of forthcoming problems between Iran and Iraq. The next night had seen him write shooting in the street and [Bullet] in [head] in his dream diary. Brackets placed around words in his notes meant he was not sure.

On March 28, 1989, five people were arrested at London's Heathrow Airport after the security staff made a chilling find in an aircraft hangar there: 40 krytron triggers in an ordinary suitcase. These triggers form part of a sophisticated electronic system for a nuclear device. 
The krytons were bound for Iraq, where Saddam Hussein had, two weeks previously, ordered the execution of journalist Fazad Bazoft for allegedly spying on missile bases.

Then, on the night of March 29, weaponry expert Dr Gerry Bull was walked through Arrivals and into the airport's main building.

Pete had to think fast. "Swap it for sand and let him walk," he finally decided. "I don't want anyone taking their eye off him for more than a second. He's got to be heavily tailed."

The case was passed through, and word sent to Customs at the airport to let the courier through unchallenged. He was followed to a North London park, where he waited for several hours. 
Pete finally conceded defeat and ordered that the courier be arrested. The people he was working for must have had an observer at the airport.

The courier stood trial and received a heavy prison sentence. He had been caught thanks to Chris's dream. It was just a shame that no other member of the gang was netted in the operation. But perhaps Chris had helped to dry up one line of supply for drugs being smuggled into the country.  

In September 1990 Chris began to feel that very few people were taking notice of what was happening in his dreams. He wrote to Graham Bright, his local Member of Parliament, then to Scotland Yard and to the Ministry of Defence. In each letter he outlined what had happened to him so far, and asked each party what they intended to do to help further research into his dreams, and put the dream results to good use.

Graham Bright was the only one to reply positively. He wrote several times and also telephoned Chris about his premonitions. Chris was put in touch with Special Branch in Cambridge, and Mr Bright began to take particular notice of Chris Robinson - because Graham Bright happened to be John Major's parliamentary private secretary, and Chris began to have dreams about an attack on John Major.

On October 18, 1990, Chris dreamt he was in a car with an Irishman in a blue suit. He could see the man's pear-shaped face clearly, with his pointed chin, and a thick shock of red hair. The man was talking about the IRA.

When he woke, Chris could see that he had written Car in Bits and [mini] change front. From this he knew that the next IRA attack would use a vehicle - not necessarily a Mini, which was why the word was bracketed - that had been altered in some way. And from the way he had written the former phrase, he knew that the postcode would be CB - or Cambridge, the county in which John Major had his constituency.

On the night of November 14, Chris dreamt of a white van, which was being used by the IRA. Two nights later, on November 16, there was a reference in the dreams to [Philip] Lawson. 
The brackets around the name Philip suggested uncertainty - which left Chris with Lawson. At that time, the Chancellor of the Exchequer was Nigel Lawson, living in the Chancellor's official residence at 11 Downing Street, next to the Prime Minister's residence at Number 10.

John Major was not yet Britain's Prime Minister, but Chris had a feeling that this would change: for some time he had been having dreams that told him Margaret Thatcher would soon be replaced. Put together with all the references to John Major, Chris felt sure that he would be the replacement.

At any other time this would have been a premonition noteworthy in itself, but right now that was the last thing on Chris's mind.

His dreams began to come through with a strong message. Chris dreamt of IRA men getting away from a scene of crime on a big motorbike. This eventually turned out to be correct. 
But the dream had a double meaning, because Chris wrote the phrase Big Old Motorbike in his dream diary, which was a way of indicating a bomb: Big Old Motorbike. Bomb.

While this had been happening, the expected coup in the Tory Party had occurred and John Major had been installed as Prime Minister.

So it was no surprise that Chris wrote on December 3: Halt at Major Rd ahead. Phone call warning to [police]. 

The dream on Tuesday, January 8, was so explicit that it prompted Chris to send it directly to Graham Bright.

The dream revealed codes for the SAS, SW1, BT - the postcode for Belfast, and a sure sign of IRA activity in Chris's universe - and Cambridge, signifying John Major. Just imagine how Chris must have felt as he tried to make people listen to him. He translated the dream to send it to Graham Bright.

On January 10, he saw a van being resprayed by the IRA. He knew the van that would be used in the attack would be white - as indeed it was.

Wednesday, February 6, saw the most blatant dreams yet: three rockets firing into space, with postcodes for SW1. There were more resprayed cars like those Chris had been seeing for months. When he woke at four in the morning, he knew what was going to happen.

He also knew that he couldn't go back to sleep. His wife was working at a hotel, and she was due to start an early shift at 5.30am. Chris made her break-fast, then drove her to work. 
He took his children to school and told a couple of their teachers about his dreams. By the time he got back home it was close to 10 o'clock. Chris had become resigned to the fact that no-one was taking any notice of him.

The phone rang. At first he wasn't going to answer it, but a voice in his head said, "Answer it, Chrissy, it might be important."

If there was one thing he had learnt by now, it was never to ignore the voices that occasionally came into his head. He answered the phone.

It was Graham Bright. He told Chris there had been an attack on Downing Street at 10 o'clock that morning. Three rockets had been fired from a white van that had then exploded. Two men were seen making a getaway on a motorbike.

One of the rockets had landed in the garden of No 11 Downing Street. The other two had hit No 10, but had caused little damage, apart from the falling plaster dust that surrounded Graham as he spoke.

"What can I do to help you?" he asked Chris. "I now know that you were utterly correct." 

"If you really want to help, the first thing you can do is write me a letter," Chris replied."Because the biggest problem I have is that people don't believe me. If I had verification from somebody in your position, that would make things so much easier."

"I do believe you. And all the police I've spoken to who have dealt with you believe you. The problem is that all the ones who have no experience of you think that you're mad, and think that I'm mad to believe you."

Chris put the phone down, and it struck him as remarkable that, within an hour of a major attack on Downing Street, the Prime Minister's private secretary had found time to ring a psychic in a small country village.

Sadie Holland was a researcher for Arthur C. Clarke's Mysterious Universe, a series of television documentaries linked by the famous science fiction author. When she asked Chris to take part in an experiment which would be conducted by Dr Richard Wiseman at the University of Hertfordshire, he had no hesitation in accepting.

Sadie told him that the tests were designed so that four psychics would be shown three predetermined objects. Only Dr Wiseman would know what they were until the day.

"You realise I don't work like that, don't you?" Chris said. "I may be able to dream about the objects in advance, but I won't just be able to look at them and give you an instant history.

"Put the objects in boxes, and label the boxes A, B and C. Then I can ask the spirits questions about box A on Friday night, box B on Saturday night, and box C on Sunday. I can fax you the dream notes next morning, to be compared later to the history of each object."

On the first night, Chris's dreams were confused, but when he awoke he knew that a woman had been murdered. She knew her killer, and had been killed with a gun, but beyond that there was nothing concrete.

The second night was better. Chris was visited by PC Keith Blakelock, who had been killed in London's Tottenham riots of 1985. He told Chris of two murdered policemen. One death was his own, the other related to the second object -box B. As with Blakelock, this constable had died of wounds to the head. However, these wounds had been caused by a gunshot.

On the third night, Chris found himself observing a woman preparing a bottle of milk for a small baby. Police-woman Yvonne Fletcher, murdered in 1984, appeared by his side, and said words, which he wrote down in his diary: keep your fingers away - boiling over - turn heat off. Chris found himself standing in a flat which he knew was in London. The room caught fire, and the shock of this made him wake up.

On September 13, four psychics, a TV crew, and Dr Richard Wiseman were assembled in the doctor's lab. Chris had a shock: the objects were laid out on a table ... They were neither boxed nor labelled, as he had requested.

"Can these at least be labelled, as that's how I've worked?" asked Chris.

Dr Wiseman seemed put out. "Very well," he sighed, and asked a student to label the items A, B, and C.

Chris sat down in front of the table, and picked up object A, a lady's shoe. He told the camera what he had dreamed and .that he expected the shoe to have belonged to a woman who had been shot.

Object B was the projectile part of a bullet, without the shell casing. He told the camera about his encounter with Blakelock, and how he expected that this was connected to the murder of a police constable.

Object C was a red woollen scarf. As he picked it up, he experienced a rare flash of psychometry. As soon as it was in his hands he could see a woman being strangled: he put the scarf around his neck, and as he did he could see milk bottles. It was his opinion that the scarf had been used as a murder weapon, and that the murder was in some way connected to milk.

The objects had all come from the Essex Police Museum. The shoe had belonged to Camille Cecile Holland, a 57-year-old woman shot dead by her common law husband, at their remote farmhouse. She was missing for four years before a digging party found her body at the farm. She was identified by her shoes, and her killer was hanged on the evidence of a London cobbler, who made the shoes.

The bullet was one which killed Police Constable George Gutteridge at Stapleford Abbots in September 1927.

He was shot in the head by Frederick Browne, later arrested with a gun in his possession. It was proved by ballistics evidence, used for the first time in an English murder trial, to be the same as that which killed PC Gutteridge.

The scarf had been used in a recent murder. The victim's name was not-revealed, but she had been killed by her milkman in a row over her milk bill. He had reported finding the body on his rounds to try to cover his complicity. When he finally confessed, he claimed that it was an accidental killing, and that she had been strangled by the scarf when he had grabbed it to prevent her  running away.

Chris says: "Considering the amount of money spent on research into space and astronomy, I think it's incredible that no-one has ever written a book or done heavy research into dreams. Millions of people all over the world dream every time they sleep, yet no study of dreams has been published. 

"As far as the police I've spoken to are concerned, I'm the only person that they know of who has repeatedly had dreams that apparently foretell many unforeseeable occurrences. My own doctor has told me that I'm not mad, neither do I need any medical treatment. He says it is possible that perhaps I have been affected by the high number of near-death experiences I have had over the years, or by long periods of anaesthesia that I endured during my open-heart surgery when I was a child."

​THE END

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