Blue_Opossum

Morning of June 14, 2017. Wednesday.



I am in an unknown residence where there are a number of unfamiliar people, though most of them seem friendly and cheerful. I am working with mixing music (with a cassette deck) but using a commercial folk music recording and I end up playing the cassette in reverse (by the tape being reinserted into the cassette inside-out, though the dynamics are muddier than digital reversal).

Over time, I begin to hear actual words, which turns out to be “Mama always tried to give me what I needed…” with additional lyrics about the singer’s father. There is also something about fast food being “fake” or something along those lines with an additional mention of the mother.

I take off my headphones and have an unfamliar male listen and he seems to find it interesting. In actuality, the melody is based mostly on the country song “Okie From Muskogee” (Merle Haggard), though I do not realize this in my dream. Eventually, the lyrics become gibberish (back to sounding more like reversed audio), although I still listen for possible phrases.

Eventually, a chubby biker (unfamliar) with a large brown beard, pulls out my headphone jack and seems to do something to the cassette deck and I soon see it is on its side. This annoys me and, even though he is bigger than me, I start beating him on the head and shoulders with my smaller barbell (without the weights). He is not injured that badly and we somehow end up in a kitchen (possibly loosely modeled after the Loomis Street house kitchen) but I soon wake. (I am fairly certain the biker is associated with Hell’s Angels, thus is this dream’s flight symbolism.)

---

The personified preconscious is not always directly associated with a discernible flight symbol (though the preconscious level itself often is) as just being the preconscious personified is inherently viable as dominant waking symbolism on its own. Ending up in the kitchen in my dream relates to mild hunger while sleeping; pretty obvious. (Plus, this is redundantly validated. Even if I was ignorant enough not to know this, it is backed up by the “fake” food reference in the song. “Fake” food would be a subliminal link to knowing that eating in a dream does not give the body actual nutrients.)

---

Morning of November 2, 2016. Wednesday.



In my dream, I find myself in an unfamiliar room in an unknown setting that has the appearance of an efficiency apartment (though my dream self does not perceive it as unfamiliar). Dennis (older half-brother on my mother’s side, of whom I have not seen in real life since 1994) is present but appears as he did in the 1970s. There is also an unknown and unfamiliar male present of about Dennis’s age, presumed (by my dream self) to be either his visiting friend or flatmate. However, it remains uncertain if my dream is otherwise implying the apartment to be mine.

Dennis and I enter into an argument when I play “Nights in White Satin” (a song by the Moody Blues) on a cassette player that sits atop a low-set chest of drawers that faces the foot of the bed, though more to the right. Dennis says it is not the original version. I tell him and the other male that they must have only heard later shortened versions. One point made is that Dennis says there are no helicopter sounds in the original version. I tell him that he is wrong. (However, I am thinking of the movie “Apocalypse Now” and the “Ride of the Valkyries” score and somehow confusing it with “Nights in White Satin”, though the similarity between these two recordings is otherwise minimal.)

I am able to sarcastically, with amusement, vocalize the background motif in inverse (that is, with the staff flipped upside-down so that any sequence of increasingly higher notes go down in pitch and decreasing notes go higher in pitch). I am fully aware of how it would sound as such. The other two look on, seeming annoyed, as I repeat that this is the correct version while implying they may have heard the inverted one. I awake with a sense of joy and an instant recognition of my dream’s meaning.

---

Decoding template follows:

• Dream type and explanation: This dream uses “return flight waking symbolism”, which is created when the physicality of the conscious self identity is ambiguously perceived prior to the RAS (reticular activating system) neural gating that regulates the sleep-wake transition. Consequently, the dream self identity subliminally anticipates falling, rising, sustained flight, or other illusory movement based on the misperception of the vestibular system’s equilibrium dynamics.
• Dream state induction type: Transmutation of our bed as a subliminal dream state indicator, created as a result of the subliminal memory of being asleep.
• Dream state indicators: The bed and the song “Nights in White Satin”.
• Liminal space symbol: The beach (unseen yet implied), which represents the neural space between sleeping and waking. The relationship to the flight symbol is that the helicopters (in the movie) fly towards the beach and over land from the water (water of which symbolizes sleep and the circadian rhythms dynamics of the dream state and the glymphatic system).
• Preconscious factor: My dream self is already in the emergent consciousness role, which is validated by my subliminal recognition of both dream state indicators. It is otherwise the preconscious that is dominant over the dream self to initiate waking.
• Interconsciousness factor: The unknown male in the background of whose presence does not otherwise trigger a known dream state component.
• Liminal space cessation trigger: The line “Just what the truth is, I can’t say anymore” from “Nights in White Satin”. The liminal space cessation trigger is that which begins to break the illusion of the dream state, sometimes symbolized by a jigsaw puzzle or a breaking window.
• Flight symbol to dream exit point (symbolic waking transition): The (unseen) helicopter as “returning” me to my bed, symbolized in my dream by the unfamiliar bed of the efficiency apartment. (Note that I sit on the foot of the bed, right side, just as I do with my real bed in waking life.) The helicopter rotor system symbolizes kinocilia in the same way as a tornado in the dream state. (However, at a spiritual level, for those who follow the path, it also represents the Merkaba as a tornado also does.)
• Waking symbolism is typically oriented to the right, which is the location of the cassette player as perceived from the bed.

---

Morning of September 18, 2016. Sunday.



I seem to be outside at a fair in an unknown location (though it may be the Bundaberg Showgrounds) though there are not that many people. It seems to be late morning. I am playing an electric guitar in an unusual way, though it does not seem to be connected to an amplifier. I seem to be sitting on the ground and crouched down, though in actuality, in order to get the perspective I maintain here, I would have to be lying on my stomach. The guitar is lying on its back, its headstock pointing southward based on the Bundaberg Showgrounds orientation. I am mostly using an unrealistically large plectrum (pick) that is a little like a banjo pick but flatter. It seems to be broken near the middle but not completely. The crack or “crease” allows it to fold over my finger at times without it being that problematic. I use it differently at different points, including possibly upside-down or backwards.

At one point, an unfamiliar female looks on. My music sounds very cohesive and interesting (though somewhat harp-like) and I am actually aware of each note in each series even though my focus and playing is based on distance between notes (such as thirds and fifths relative to the frets, which would be the case anyway if I were using a capo though which I am not) rather than a direct focus on the notes themselves. Still, the sounds seem to be very precise. (It is quite unusual to have such a clear awareness over what is being played relative to use of both hands simultaneously and with the sound seeming correct. I believe that this is the first time such clarity and precision has occurred in this way.) Nothing unexpected or unlikely happens; that is, the guitar itself seems to not be problematic in any way or have loose strings as is often the case in such dreams.

I eventually stand up and walk to another area which is mostly undefined. This unfamiliar and unknown area seems to be inside in a large featureless room even though I had not gone through a doorway.

Soon, a miniature Darth Vader who seems like a child in a costume is present. It first seems that the guitar may have been his but this soon seems to not be the case. Although I get the impression that he is a teenager of perhaps sixteen or seventeen his size and demeanor is more like that of a six-year-old and there is somewhat of a sketchy cartoon essence about him. Since he is dressed like Darth Vader I do not see his face at any point.

Soon, I hear guitar playing that sounds like rapid heavy metal riffs. A very tall chubby male (about three times the height of little Darth Vader and perhaps a foot taller than me) with curly white hair comes in. He is playing the guitar as he is walking towards us but his right hand is moving very unrealistically as he is playing, almost like he is continuously and quickly doing karate chops, though with all the tips of his fingers aligned towards himself, palm up. It looks very odd and it would not be possible to play a guitar like this in reality. He is dressed in a weird costume (almost like a woman’s ball gown in some ways) and reminds me of Melvin Belli as he appeared as the Gorgon in “Star Trek” in the “And the Children Shall Lead” episode. (Although our youngest son was Darth Vader at a “Star Wars” event at the mall and has shown an interest in playing the guitar, there does not seem to be any relevant connections here at all curiously enough.)

He starts complaining about the miniature Darth Vader (who is possibly his son though this is not certain). He claims that “Darth” had damaged the guitar by “bending its spine”. This does not really make any sense. The guitar’s “spine” is implied to be the entire length of the back of the guitar (including the neck). Even though I sense that the little Darth Vader is an obnoxious brat (who reminds me of a neighbor from when we lived in Brisbane), it also seems the Gorgon may not understand guitars all that well and as such, the guitar may not be damaged (even though I had thought it might have been me that caused the damage, though I do not actually see any damage).

---

As Darth Vader and the Gorgon both relate to space flight on one level, I have included the relevant flight symbol tags. Still, sometimes I seriously wonder how my dreams come up with this weird stuff. Although the Gorgon appears as the last dream character, he does not seem to have any essence of the otherwise common preconscious personification, especially as my dream becomes much duller at this point rather than much clearer (which does not happen very often).

Morning of September 14, 2016. Wednesday.



I am using a notebook computer as well as accessing the Internet in an unfamiliar residence which is apparently where my family and I live. Our oldest daughter is present at one point and she is also using her computer. The large room does not have much furniture and I am seated on the floor, my daughter also seated on the floor on the other side of the room. The common distortion of somehow “using the Internet” in an actual notepaper notebook occurs (where images sometimes move on the paper, though not in every such dream, and in this case, actual type appears rather than handwriting).

I try to search for the term “Ghost Riders in the Sky”. I seem to have forgotten how to perform a search, at least in a more feasible manner. I type “Ghost Riders in the Sky” with a small keyboard so that it appears on the notebook paper. I then move the computer mouse across the notebook paper to near the top of the page and watch the image of the print move in line with the mouse. I seem to remember that by doing this, it activates the search. However, nothing happens. I then reason that one has to move the computer mouse more quickly so that it creates a sort of “momentum” as the print on the paper is then somehow “flung” into a virtual but unseen search engine box on the surface of the paper. I cannot seem to do it correctly. I reason that there must be a virtual impetus setting (for the computer mouse) of plus or minus and in a context menu but I cannot remember where it is.

I ask my daughter if she can get the search function to work on her computer. She seems to discover that the search function is offline and informs me of this. Still, I decide to try a different computer, which I recall is in a different room off to my right. There is a very large rectangular wooden table that holds six computer workstations (the narrower end of the table parallel to the doorway), both towers and desktops, each with a large CRT monitor, which are arranged as three facing outward on each side.

I decide to use the middle workstation on one side of the table; the side where the doorway is then to my left. The search still does not seem to be working after I type in the phrase “Ghost Riders in the Sky”. I notice that the USB cable that is required for the search function to work is at an angle, halfway out of the electrical outlet (which is a white upright surge protector power board with three outlets), but tipped to the left (which is based on two absurd notions; one, that a USB cable needs to be plugged in somewhere for an Internet search to work and two, that a USB cable would fit in an electrical outlet).

I adjust the USB cable to push it down fully into the outlet which is on my right. It is in the outlet between where the desktop computer is plugged in (left side) and where the CRT monitor is plugged in (right side). Soon, there is a sizzling sound. I am not sure what is going on. I see an orange glow coming from the monitor without paying much attention to the side of the monitor looking more like a vent with equidistant horizontal louvers. Soon, there are sparks flying out of the outlet along with a bit of fire and more sizzling from the other workstations. I soon realize that I had better turn off and unplug everything. First, I turn off the switch on the power board, but the noise and fiery glow seems to grow and spread and I wonder if I had turned it on instead of turning it off (which is illogical as I had just been using the computer). I go around the table attempting to turn everything off. There is even a power board with three outlets hanging to the left of the doorway at about chest-level, which I also turn off and pull plugs out of. My wife Zsuzsanna comes in. Our youngest son and daughter come in and playfully walk clockwise around the table cheerfully and I tell them that they should leave.

Although the fire becomes brighter and the sizzling louder, it does not really spread that far. Each fire mostly remains inside the perimeter of each computer workstation, which is looking more and more like an arrangement of tall vents with equidistant louvers that I mostly watch the fire through. There is hardly any smoke.

Soon, the crackling and sizzling becomes a very strange metallic music. It is firstly an instrumental version of “Ghost Riders in the Sky”. The metal of the burning workstations “plucks” the song, though is not that loud. The gremlins (from the 1984 movie “Gremlins”), though remaining unseen, are “singing” - though not the actual lyrics, just “ya ya ya ya, ya ya ya ya” to the melody, though for the chorus, they sing “yippee-yi-ay, yippee-yi-o, ghost riders in the sky…” the title being mostly muttered and somewhat indistinct as they go back into the “ya ya ya ya” verse. As I stand in the doorway, I marvel at what seems a “frozen moment” of perfection (even though I know it will cost a lot of money to replace the computers). The thin metallic plucking of the melody sounds very distinct as each louver of the vents snaps, though the workstations (and vents) still appear as complete and undamaged through the fire. (The equidistant horizontal lines of light have appeared in previous dreams, akin to venetian blinds and relating to the nature of liminal space, including with the potential of greater clarity or lucidity, between dreaming and waking.)

---

Although I consider this a beautiful and unique dream (analogous to the dream-self identity as the phoenix), it carries the same core meaning (and sleeping, dreaming, and waking components and inherent symbols) as the majority of my dreams since early childhood. Firstly, my unconscious dream self seeks to return to whole consciousness (which is often the primary goal of most dream-self incarnations though in many cases the dream self attempts to “escape” from the “interference” of whole consciousness, or does not want to wake yet) through use of computer technology (as only the conscious mind has viable thinking skills or a stable system of logic). The common “return flight” aspect is here, but in this case as the “ghost riders in the sky” (the sky often being symbolic of the conscious mind as being “above” the dream self), where fire is mentioned in the actual song, fire of which represents emergent (waking) awareness (or if one prefers, the emerging sun or light of day). Orange is also a factor of sentience (and the need to wake up) between yellow and red (which also represent states of consciousness when dominant, yellow or gold being the “softer” phase and red often indicating more of a need to wake, in my case, often after sleeping a little too long, relative to circadian rhythms). The color red increases the pulse and heart rate, and raises your blood pressure in preparation for waking. Red, orange, or yellow are typically the final dominant colors in my dreams (depending on the type), where blue typically serves as the opposite, that is, dream induction itself (or the calming of consciousness which transmutes as the “sky” but focuses via the “sun”).

---

Morning of September 13, 2016. Tuesday.



This dream was extremely long (as is often the case with me), shifting and sifting in and out of different levels of consciousness (only partial semi-lucidity in one segment), and which contained too many scenes to feasibly document (let alone provide the meaning for), but I will include some of the clearer events.

The main event relates to my wife Zsuzsanna and I living in the northeast apartment in the King Street boarding house. Of course, the room has to be rendered much bigger than in reality in order for everyone to fit. Not only that, the room is easterly duplicated at least two more times (which, as usual, I pay no notice to).

The Jordanaires are visiting us. However, these “Jordanaires” (by which I probably confused with The Andrews Sisters, though there were only three in that group) are actually four dark-haired Caucasian girls sitting at a rectangular table with Zsuzsanna. My sister Carol (August 4, 1943-December 10, 2009; half-sister on my mother’s side) is also present, appearing as she did in the 1980s. For a time, the four girls sing Elvis Presley’s song “Teddy Bear”. Even though it sounds very harmonious and in perfect unison, I eventually tell them to shut up or leave (though I guess I really do not feel that imposed upon). (In a way, this could possibly be considered as a secondary dream sign due to the fact that children sometimes sleep with teddy bears.)

“I don’t really like that hooga hooga music,” I explain to Carol (describing the blend of gospel and rockabilly as “hooga hooga” in mocking Elvis’s singing style in songs like “Teddy Bear” and “Don’t Be Cruel”). I then tell her that it is okay to listen to at times and that I sometimes enjoy his music, but I do not feel like listening to it right now.

There was another long segment prior to this one which involved looking at a hexadecimal dump of a series of science fiction novels. At one point (as a normal display) I see a listing of three columns with two to three titles listed in each column. The first two columns have asterisks at the beginning of each title which means that they can be read for free. The third column has a price listing at the top which I think is $29.95 for each. I am aware that the writer is a young female. I do not recall the titles as I do not really focus on them that much. I look at the hexadecimal dump and see that there is executable code at the beginning in addition to each story. Although the formatting is not directly executable there are indeed subroutines in the code. I see the string “this story is not available for reading in Australia”. Very curiously, this does not trigger any present real-life status memory and I still perceive that we are living on King Street. Still, I consider reversing the logic of the sequence (“jump if” to “jump if not”) to display the message in America (to then prevent access) and to allow it to unlock in Australia just to be funny. As I am reflecting upon this with a cheerful nostalgia, I look at the rest of the formatting of the story but do not actually read it. I do notice that the margin code seems to be unrealistically wide but I do not puzzle over it that much.

I hear Zsuzsanna ask our youngest son “Did you burn your hand?” and I expect that he did and I am concerned. I actually wake up while asking her if she had said this (and she had not but had been talking to him), but only briefly and I immediately fall asleep again.

In another scene, I go into one of the duplicated rooms and notice that there are small paper sacks everywhere, some on tables and many more on the floor. At the bottom of each sack is a jelly roll, but most of boysenberry or blueberry filling. I take one out and find it delicious. (In the back of my mind, I even recall the oral sex symbolism without becoming lucid.)

In another scene, I have the apartment door open. My (King Street) landlady comes up the steps and holds her hand out as if in expectation for me to give her the money I owe her. I tell her that I will pay her later and she looks annoyed and walks off to Leonard’s apartment. Meanwhile, I had been ready to hand her a green tambourine, except that I soon notice that the membrane is split along one side and coming off around the edge. I throw it onto a huge pile of various toys and junk that comes up almost to my waist. It looks like we have some cleaning to do as the pile fills about half of our apartment.

Near the last part, I pick up large oblong pieces of dust from under a table, with my bare hand, which contains hairs and at least one dead grasshopper (a rather odd return flight waking transition, more specifically “failed flight”, with the loose hairs symbolizing the end of the dream state and the fictional “head” of the dream self).

---

Morning of June 22, 2016. Wednesday.



In the first part of my dream, my family and I as we are now are seemingly living back on Stadcor Street in Brisbane. However, it seems (or eventually becomes) more like a public venue. Our house is also a little bigger and fancier. I find myself playing an electronic keyboard in our kitchen. I am enjoying the sounds for a few minutes. My music sounds mostly like a reed organ with sustained one-note tones around the 440 Hz range.

Eventually, I notice that I am likely annoying a group of people who are performing in a small orchestra in our living room as well as distracting their small audience. I did not even realize that there were other people in our house (other than the members of my family). There are at least six members of the orchestra. I can clearly hear the beautiful music though it does not sound familiar or recognizable as a known work. My keyboard in fact, is almost as loud as the orchestra at first. Even though these people are technically trespassing (though I do not focus on that fact) I decide to stop playing. I remain passive and receptive and eventually go to the living room and the scene shifts.

Now I am sitting on a couch in an unfamiliar setting that seems only partly rendered. On my left though, there is ambiguity in whether I am outdoors or indoors (though the implication seems logically indoors). An unknown male of about sixty is on my right. He seems to be talking about the history of a particular musician though I am not sure who he means. In fact, he may not even be addressing me as he seems to be speaking to an invisible audience presumed to be facing our location. I have an old softcover music book with yellowed pages and scroll and seashell patterns on the cover (possibly from the 1800s) and this book may be relevant to his oration but he seems a bit distracted and perhaps he is even an eccentric homeless person. There seems to be something “off” about him. He seems angry about the musician of his speech not having an accurate representation in published works. That is, the books published on his life contain mostly erroneous details. However, it may also be that he is completely wrong about what he is saying in his speech.

The scene changes again and I seem mostly uninvolved as I watch Burl Ives blowing on a harmonica in short intervals. The members of the orchestra at the beginning of my dream are chasing him down a hallway. Every now and then he stops and cheerfully and defiantly blows into the harmonica. The orchestra members wave their fists and continue to chase him down the long hallway and around corners but he continues to elude them, mostly remaining about three feet ahead of them at all times. Eventually, they catch on fire but still continue to pursue him, not seeming to notice or care that they are on fire. I watch the flames leaping mostly from their upper backs and shoulders.

Now I am watching Zsuzsanna sitting on a park bench. She is looking at a small neat oblong garden bed which has smooth white stones around the shrubs and flowers. It is parallel to the bench and about eight feet away. The head and shoulders of a young male pops up from the ground, but it vibrates and quivers and seems to be a movie prop as it is pale, almost colorless, and clay-like. Its purpose seems to be to fully emerge from the ground but it keeps going down again to about neck level. Another (unknown) person to her right seems to be laughing intensely at the scene and I start to feel a strange cheerfulness as well. It seems to be part of a movie being filmed but they cannot get the prop to operate correctly.

---

Burl Ives has a special symbolic significance for me. He played the skeptic and eventual victim as a result of his own skepticism in “The Bermuda Depths”, which was a movie that signified my path to my “mystery girl” as being a real character (rather than just a dream character as I had originally thought when growing up). Water and fire have always appeared in dreams he has been in. Fire usually relates to dawning conscious awareness and the nature of sunrise (as relevant to day to day reality).

The first part of my dream relating to the orchestra seems to be relevant to a time (and as a reminder) for both lucidity and non-lucidity. Although I indulge in apex lucidity on a night to night basis (the type of dream I rarely post), I also find joy and great interest in non-lucid dreams regardless of their content and my excessive familiarity with many component types. Here, I am making music and then decide that the orchestra (the Source or the natural flow of the unconscious realm) should be heeded and heard.

The last part relates to a prolonged waking transition. My dream goes a bit haywire. One way to look at it is that I am trying to wake up but I am too amused by the surreal imagery and cannot quite “emerge” from the unconscious realm even though I have been downgraded to a “movie prop” (a movie being analogous to the dream state).

Morning of September 19, 2015. Saturday.



I am searching for particular versions of a song that seems to be very important. I seem to be searching for information on it as well as supposedly rare recordings. It is the song “Liebestraum”, which I vaguely hear in the background at many points (as if of a dream within a dream). I am not sure why I need all of the rare copies of this music. I hear a beautiful slower orchestral version as well as other versions.

At one point, I start to think about how it is seemingly in waltz time, which surprises me somewhat in my absentminded reflections. Later, an unknown elderly lady tells me that my pronunciation of “Liebestraum” is incorrect and that it is pronounced like “life a soul”, which I do not question or in fact, even associate with English words for whatever reason. I am also curious about what “Liebestraum” means, though finding the actual music seems a lot more important than the title.

I manage to find a few less rare recordings of the music. I visit a library-like setting. I reflect on how the various chord-like structures flow throughout the music, seeming perfect in their transitions.

At one point, there is something about a militant group pretending to be passive and understanding of another group. It seems relevant to perhaps the late 1700s. It seems they pretend to be victims of a war or at least with fake injuries. I think they have the goal to infiltrate the other group eventually, but the concept is not fully clear. One (unknown) male has bandaged arms and the kind group carries him in a stretcher back to their location. However, there is not drama or personal threat at any point.

I do not remember hearing or playing “Liebestraum” in over thirty years (at least of which I remember). It means “Love Dream”, which I did not seem to know at all in my dream. I know that I did not know the meaning when I played it as a child.

---

Morning of September 9, 2015. Wednesday.



In the first part of my dream, which does not flow directly into the next scenes, I am on stage playing a flute for a seemingly long time; a very long version of “For My Lady” (from Seventh Sojourn from 1972, which I had on cassette for a number of years) and I seem to actually be performing with The Moody Blues. From here, I eventually fly from the stage into an (at first) unknown region.

I decide to walk for awhile. Eventually, I seem to be in an undesirable part of town. For some reason, an unknown male approaches me. I first think that his intent is to rob me, so I say how I know (I think) someone named Tony, who apparently leads a group of gangsters. I had never met this person, but the other male walks back to his apartment building, taking me along in a friendly manner.

When we reach the building and the small room which is somewhat kitchen-like, there is a young gangster in a T-shirt who is smoking and who is apparently the leader. He is seated on a small wooden chair. A burly male stands by another door. Oddly, the leader seems to acknowledge me as “David”, which the other male calls me as if that is my actual name (though I can tell he does not remember me - though also can sense he accepts me as someone he knew years ago). I get a vague impression that David was the human name of the Incredible Hulk, but it is not pertinent to any aspect of my dream. I really do not want to hang around these people so I make the excuse that I will leave and do a “hit” for them, as the leader seems to be broke and the idea of a “hit” is supposedly to get money (rather than just kill someone) and not necessarily kill the person you are robbing.

I leave and eventually reach the front of the building. Unexpectedly, the “staircase” is made of old pieces of railroad ties that were split in half and are arranged downward like a diagonal crooked ladder rather than steps. I have to climb down, which is somewhat annoying, trying on both my stomach and in crab position. Two very happy young Jamaican boys (probably only about three years old) are also playing on the diagonal ladder on my left and climbing down. I have a bit of concern for them, as the structure eventually goes down into seemingly deep water. An immensely overweight Jamaican woman is on my right and has to climb over me to get to her children but it is not that problematic and there is no drama. Humorously, now is the time I pick to fly up and away, rather than having done it from the top of the problematic faux staircase.

From here, I fly north down Tenth Street, past the King Street boarding house on the corner and to my left, flying about five feet from the ground. Someone shouts as if annoyed, so I fly much higher, but then fly back down to about ten feet from the street. Eventually, I think about visiting relatives, but soon realize that most of my relatives in this region have died. I fly past an unfamiliar bakery (which is on my right) where there is a red-haired girl visible through the large front windows and seemingly taking something out of a large oven, possibly muffins or cookies. I wave absentmindedly and she waves back but does not seem that friendly. I somehow think it is Anita (who never had red hair) but then I realize it is my wife’s younger half-sister Leila, who we have not seen in years (and she has never been to America as far as I know). I continue to fly on and upward and then decide that I should fly back home so I can “finally” wake up (even though I had not been actively lucid at any point). I am glad to wake up and be “back” with my wife and family.

Morning of September 4, 2015. Friday.



My senses are not very clear in this sequence. Firstly, I am playing some sort of game with an unseen character (seemingly by proxy via some sort of radio broadcast but he may also be “present” though disembodied) though the plays and outcome are quite abstract and hard to describe and follow. The playing field is illogically on an otherwise featureless area of an electronic keyboard (where the voice settings and other features would otherwise be). There is something to do with placing very short lengths of “hair” (of only about one centimeter) into a pattern that seems to have no particular form. It seems difficult and annoying. We had apparently been playing awhile because the shape that is supposedly mine is like a large circular form, but it seems the other character is winning (though I am not sure why or even what the purpose or rules are). Eventually, as I do not seem to be the winner, I pick up my game result and it is somewhat like a furball though seemingly made of drawn lines that somehow are separated from the surface that they were originally drawn on.

Later, I am on my side in a bed that is outside near an isolated intersection in a wooded area during the afternoon. I get a vague impression that there may be large dinosaurs (such as a tyrannosaurus) in the area. There is no fear or perceived threat of any kind, though. It is almost as if I am aware I can create any creature I want and have it run around by the intersection and along the perimeter of the forest. I absentmindedly choose not to focus more clearly to do this, though. Instead I am playing around with an electronic drum kit that also is like a digital sampler to capture at least an octave range of a particular sample.

I press something (some sort of small rectangular button) and sample the ambiance of the area, which is barely audible. I try to play a melody on the pads, but the sample is not loud enough to hear. I try again and get some ambiance that is slightly louder, but mostly only wind through the trees, my breathing, and a distant (unknown) animal sound. From here, I am able to play a random melody with a rather odd sound (almost like a person saying “huh?”), though which eventually sounds more and more like an electric guitar. I remember that sound can be recorded from anywhere and turned into anything else.

Morning of September 1, 2015. Tuesday.



I seem to be focused on Loomis Street yet again. However, there are also emotions and realizations associated with our present bedroom on W Street (though it does not quite seem like a typical composite, and yet the setting is limited to the one room, though).

My attention is mostly on an unusual “clock”. It does not apparently serve as a clock though, but some sort of answering machine (though I do not recall having this type of concept appearing in any previous dream).

Only the hour hand is implemented but it does not serve as time-keeping in any way. There is seemingly no minute hand or second hand and the number six, in its proper location, is the only number on the face of the clock.

I move the hour hand to the left (from where it was near the number six), to around where the number eight would be expected to be, and start to hear pleasant music. As I put it in different positions, I hear a lot of very nice music, a lot of it tribal, but with no voices at any point. The audio is very clear (though I do not become lucid).

After spending seemingly at least fifteen minutes listening to very nice music (which apparently is related to being connected to our telephone and plays when we are not home to answer it), I move the hour hand over to the right around where the number four would be expected to be. From around where the number two would be expected to be to that location, there are recordings of my wife or me telling the caller to leave a message, and some of the messages are meant to be in-jokes. I listen to these recordings for a short time (much shorter than when I was enjoying the music) and my dream fades.

Night of August 3, 2015. Monday.



As promised in my last entry, here are five dreams that I have managed to include simple sheet music with online. With the equipment and technology we have presently, I could probably even duplicate each theme fairly faithfully, though we are working on other projects presently.

In this dream (“Never Go to Waikiki Again” from July 5, 1969), the music is more in the background almost like an in-dream afterthought for the most part and coming during the waking process itself (at least in the first version of my dream).

In this dream (“War of the Serpents” from September 11, 1969) the music seems to mostly be performed with a saxophone, xylophone, and an almost inaudible background orchestra that fades in and out unrealistically (that is, for a real-life commercial production).

In this dream (“Things…From Outer Space” from November 7, 1970), the music is somewhat light and “distant” (in this case I made a recording as a child but am not sure where it is located; possibly at a relative’s house).

In this dream (“Them ol’ Glass Jars” from July 12, 1975), the theme is more musical and sung by a girl’s chorus though the glass jar effect gets louder as I get closer to the waking process.

In this dream (“The Legend of Tony Karoni” from June 27, 1976) the included sheet music represents a very limited rendering of the otherwise layered musical speaking (by the bandits) at the end of my dream (which was very vivid to the point of almost being startling). The harmonics are not included here, thus it is only slightly faithful to my dream. In this case, I am also reminded of how “Yellow Submarine” by the Beatles is off-key in the chorus harmonics (where oddly most people do not notice unless they listen more closely) whereas most sheet music versions I have seen (except for one version that is faithful to what is actually sung) utilize only relevant harmonics to the chord, giving it a completely different sound and mood in most cover versions with not a single change in the notes, which makes me automatically cringe after being used to the Beatles version (even though it is off-key).

Morning of July 29, 2015. Wednesday.



My dream before this, as is sometimes the case, is just a bit too surreal to even begin to describe correctly, though I would not say abstract. It involved something about another planet (or perhaps alternate universe) with at least three larger unusual lifeforms, one like some sort of composite of snake, slug, and something else. I and about three others are exploring the area and a couple different creatures approach us (I assume by either scent detection or movement) but there is no direct threat. We actually seem to be some sort of creatures in a couple scenes. It is hard to relate. The region is not that defined and seems somewhat like a miniature mountain and cliff area. One of us as a creature first seems terrified (of the snake-slug-whatever) but others of us (as creatures) are able to communicate with the other creature and it goes on its way.

At any rate, I shift into a more “normal” dream and am in a room that (yet again) seems loosely modeled after features from the house in Cubitis (where I have not lived since late June of 1978). This time the carport area is apparently inside the house though the window (of the internal wall) of my oldest son’s room makes it seem like our present home on W Street. (Otherwise his room would be modeled after my room as a teenager).

For seemingly the “entire night” I am playing around with some sort of unusual compact disc. It has a pattern on its surface much like the image in this entry on the playing side (rather than more uniform bands of color). For some reason, I “recognize” it as a chaordic disc that can be “played” by randomly moving the mouse so that the laser goes all over the surface through random data rather than just reading it normally.

Doing this (and I have no clue why) results as one continuous combined event in various very short pieces of music, voices (mostly female) uttering one phrase, fractal patterns forming out of quickly sequenced images, and so on, with possibly what may even be some correct new form of mathematics related to fractals and chaos-related calculus (which I do not work on as much as I did about twenty years ago). I can clearly hear everything in perfect stereo though the imagery is two-dimensional as on my real computer monitor (and I do not attempt to “project” into the imagery).

Again, I am not sure why I have gotten into playing around like this. It may even be originally (at least in one data track) some sort of portmanteau movie though also integrated with scientific data and other features. Some of the images on the screen are cloud forms mixed with Mandelbrot patterns. It is almost like trying to make sense out of watching frames of several different movies at once out of about a hundred total while listening to one or half a measure of various audio recordings.

I eventually notice my oldest son’s computer coming on in the next room (via the window in the internal wall) except that it is only white lines slowly appearing in sequence on a black screen as it boots up (as on an old MS-DOS system). I am surprised my son is up so early in the morning to look at his computer (as it is not yet dawn). My computer’s monitor had been facing north (as I am looking south) and my son’s computer’s monitor is facing east. Yet again, I am “fooled” (or I fool myself, more like) into integrating my Cubitis home into a recent dream setting with my typical in-dream amnesia of real-life present locations (as I am not lucid at any point). However, no composite is ever quite the same as any other even after hundreds of variations, which is intriguing in a way.

Early Evening of July 11, 2015. Saturday.



I had been working on a project with a large set of new music tracks and got stuck at trying to create the rather low-pitched cuíca-like sound from Peter Tosh’s “Rock With Me” (though I was able to copy most of the percussion rhythms otherwise in the way I wanted) and have become frustrated since nothing I can find, no sample, no actual instrumentation attempts, sounds anything quite like it. I lower the pitch of the MIDI cuíca (as my main otherwise very realistic drum kit in SFZ sounds nothing like a proper cuíca sound and is too smooth - and there is no feasible way to control note lengths, up or down stroke, pitch variation, or other important dynamics - thus a cuíca sample or MIDI format or even an audio loop for that matter, is mostly useless) and sequence it to match the organ bubble rhythm, but it just is not suitable and does not have a viable feel in the track. I have it set to exactly 86 bpm and do not feel like taking the sound out of the actual track, which is probably not very feasible because of how much it blends in. (In my dream, it seems that a yellow grape tomato is also called a “cuíca” for some reason.)

Even though it is rather low-pitched, I somehow am able to duplicate the sound in-dream with a small yellow grape tomato (“Sun Drop”) by holding it between my index and middle fingers and rubbing it with my thumb. This seems a bit unusual to get a low-pitched cuíca sound by rubbing a small tomato as such, but it works. I become aware of the plan to integrate it into a musical recording. More than one little yellow tomato is required, as once the eighth snare hit occurs on some verses, it needs to be popped to create the very light splashy cymbal sound, which is almost inaudible in the original track other than the intro pattern of the kick, snare, and cymbal prior to the start of the song. At one point, I eventually seem to be in a classroom setting (though no one else is around) with relevant algorithms written on the green chalkboard. This is the kind of rather ridiculous non-lucid dream I get when taking a nap earlier in the evening, especially when eating something I am mildly allergic to (in this case, chicken and peanut butter sandwiches, one of my favorite snacks, though an older brother was more allergic to peanut butter than I am). I still have not solved the cuíca issue, even after watching about a dozen videos with experts and performers, mostly in Spanish and Brazilian Portuguese. It is probably something in the back of my mind but has yet to emerge. I also seem to recall a “Fat Boys” cassette from the 1980s where they copied a very similar low-pitched cuíca rhythm, though vocally.

By some strange coincidence, “cuíca” is Portuguese for a type of small opossum which is known to make a high-pitched sound. How amusing.

Morning of June 10, 2015. Wednesday.



I am in a non-lucid state, though the setting is extremely well-rendered and most of it clearer even though it is mostly unfamiliar. My wife and family and I are living in a different type of building and had apparently moved here recently. The (fictional) residence has the typical “impossible” apartment-related situation that I have dreamt of all my life - where strangers are present in what would be almost the same living space. At one point, I am aware of an unknown older male on the other side of the main large room. Our living area is only divided from his by a curtain that hangs down to about four inches from the floor. I am fixing this curtain arrangement (for more privacy) while sitting on the floor, by pulling it fully down, as part of the bottom edge was draped over a cardboard box higher up (about a foot or so).

At one point, I am using a screwdriver to scrape up old soap residue from a floor tile and as I do, the tile actually comes off, though I manage to align it back where it should be. The appearance and movement (and manual effort) is very realistic.

I also find some toys that the last tenants left behind, some smaller toy cars in a bag, which I think I will put on my youngest son’s large (fictional) table for a pleasant surprise.

In the last stage of my dream, which is very clear, there are several large radios (or boomboxes) set up along the wall for some reason, all side by side on a large table. After a short time, they all start playing at the same time, fairly loudly, and mostly different songs (at least four). I think one song is Fats Waller and another a country song, possibly George Strait. I am annoyed because the radios seem to have been connected to some sort of timing system by the previous tenants and I cannot work out what to do with the setup. I am also somewhat embarrassed (as I do not want to be seen as making so much noise on purpose, as we had just moved in recently relative to my dream’s back story), as the other tenant is home, though I do not go through the curtain to his side at any point.

I try pushing the buttons and after a time, when I turn one radio off, another comes back on and this goes on for several minutes (so that it seems impossible to have all turned off at the same time) - and I am thinking that some sort of cable system (linked with a timer) is connected to all of them and they will play at certain times no matter what you do. It is somewhat amusing in conscious afterthought. The clarity of the power indicator lights is quite precise. This is similar to situations where I cannot turn all the lights off, which I have read in other people’s journals where they are experiencing the exact same details in the same way and with the same associations.

Morning of May 12, 2015. Tuesday.



I had a very peaceful and enjoyable long dream considering the recent NBN fiasco just outside our window where there was also a long loud argument later today between a young female and a lineman about why the telephones were not back on after a day.

In my dream, I am in Tel Aviv, Israel with my wife and several people I knew more about in my school days, ready to become involved in a long music concert as the main performer (and I switch instruments at times). Some first members of the audience (mostly female in traditional Persian dress for some reason) stand on a mezzanine viewing us getting together on the first floor stage (though there are eventually more people on the first floor prior to the concert beginning). This makes me slightly wary at first, though I feel very assertive and confident throughout the rest of my dream even though things seem weird on a secondary level at times (like a wavering dream within a dream that is somewhat like having two or more dreams at the same time; fairly rare, but experienced enough to know the phenomenon in a familiar sense).

My dream concert follows the general pattern of a recurring song set which varies in some versions of the scenario. Before we start, I notice two (unfamiliar) dark-haired girls, seated on the floor and leaning against the wall, who seem to be faithful fans of my group, though the group does not even seem to have a name (at least not one I can remember in this case). Oddly, one of the girls is wearing sunglasses, which takes me a moment to perceive as such - because the sunglasses have painted-on human eyes, a bit larger than normal, so that her appearance is somewhat eerie. The other girl is missing her left eye, which instead, is a mostly featureless area with barely discernible wrinkles. I do not comment on either oddity. There is also a light-haired girl who seems a bit too pale and I ask her where she is from. She comments that she does not actually live in Israel but that her family is on a vacation.

I notice a male seated at a picnic table and facing me (though talking to others on his right about technical details of our upcoming show) at the second picnic table back on the opposite side from me. He is seemingly a member of my music group and I contemplate whether or not he is Orlando Jones (the actor from “Sleepy Hollow”; the television series) or my friend from middle school days who is now a well-known singer in Germany in real life. I conclude that he is my old friend Roosevelt and it is very good to see him here.

When we are ready, we seem to go into ad-lib or practice modes now and then, making the songs quite a bit longer and more interesting, with many dynamics that are not in the original recordings. These new versions of the songs (via my imagination) have gradually built up over the years, becoming more and more theatrical and intriguing in their fullness. At one point, an unknown older male with a harmonica infuses some additional nice-sounding impromptu bars. In the offset (dream within a dream) there is the focus on at least two members playing cereal boxes like guitars, held at an angle. Guitar-like music can still be heard in this case.

The first song performed is “Speak to the Sky” (originally done by Rick Springfield), which typically starts out with me playing the opening on a banjo and soon joined in crescendo (in the next verse) by drums, keyboards, and other vocalists (doing occasional intense harmonics that repeat part of a phrase I sing now and then, such as “I am blind” just after my phrasing, or fuller phrases such as “seems awful hard to find” at the same time as my phrasing). The audio of my voice seems amazingly well-rendered in my dream but does not sound like my real voice and also has an unidentifiable accent (almost like a composite of French and Romanian) - and there are also a few unusual “glitches” here and there (typical of dreams). However, in this particular dream, instead of a banjo, it seems I am actually playing the opening on a ukelele with somewhat of an odd muted sound at one point (though there are a few “resets” and offset “dream within a dream” sections). (“Doesn’t always rhyme” is usually done with more of a longer pentuplet feel, requiring a brief change in the otherwise 4/4 timing.)

The second song we perform is “Dear Prudence” (originally a Beatles song), where I start out playing something that sounds a bit like the style of Jeff Lang (the best slide guitarist I have ever heard) but then I quickly switch to an electric bass by grabbing it from the person on my left when the song changes from the sustained beginning bass notes to the intimate, almost overwhelming bass riff (possibly one of the best bass lines I have ever heard, the second being from Bob Marley’s “I Shot the Sheriff”).

After the first two songs (and in one “reset” there are also unusual-sounding horn sections - almost cinematic in style), my dream begins to decay into unusual “resets” and repeating patterns and becoming somewhat abstract, but remains a very positive dream experience until I wake.