Like most people named Tychonievich (we're a rather small set), I have from time to time been known as Tycho, so this character is synchronistically interesting.
A secondary quasi-visual image associated with the sentence had something to do with nine-ness. As I tried to recall it after waking, it seemed sometimes like a table with three rows and three columns and sometimes like a long wooden rod with nine convex sections that looked as if they had been made with a lathe.
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My feeling upon waking was that "Likeness in anything is likeness to him" was deep, and that I understood what it meant, but that feeling of understanding rapidly dissipated. My interpretation, as best I can reconstruct it, was that whenever any two things are similar or correspond in any way, that is a manifestation of God -- not that God created or arranged the similarity, but that similarity and correspondence as such are aspects of God. Now I'm no longer sure that makes any sense. Perhaps the idea is that any sort of coherence at all is a reminder that we live in a created cosmos?
I have no idea what the three-by-three table, or the nine-sectioned rod, means. Immediately after waking, I had a sense that the three rows of the table corresponded to before, during, and after something or other -- and the columns? It all evaporated too fast for me to get a handle on it.
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Later in the morning, I realized that that picture of Tyco -- a short man with a big almost-bald head, wearing a suit and flying up into the sky -- reminded me of someone: Mr. Mxyztplk as he first appeared in Superman #30 in 1944. The story was even called "The Mysterious Mr. Mxyztplk," synching with "A Most Mysterious Disappearance":
Tyco's house, which is both a home and an observatory with a dome for a telescope, also reminds me of the similar home of Aline Carter in San Antonio, where the young Whitley Strieber attended an astronomy class.
