Blue_Opossum

Morning of April 24, 2015. Friday.



In a less physically defined state, I am “remembering” my completion of the most recent education progress report. Everything seems as is in reality except that I am aware I have added an mp3 file on the companion CD. It is the recording of Roger Miller’s “Walking in the Sunshine” which I heard very often in my childhood. I pause and think on this for awhile. The CD is already made (false memory) so I cannot remove it if I need to, because it begins to dawn on me that I should not have this recording in the report since I had not written and recorded it (typical goofy in-dream “logic”). Over time, I mentally “fix” this and the CD is as it should be.

Morning of April 10, 2015. Friday.



This was a very long meandering dream without much plot continuity, though somewhat fun all in all. Though it is not lucid, I am still aware of making most of it via some sort of background focus, which is probably why it goes a bit “haywire” as dreams tend to do when my own thoughts shift, sometimes with transient expectancy of the dream itself. Since childhood, a certain kind of dream I have several times a year relates to an older time period being altered by anachronistic features (typically caused by my thoughts shifting or becoming more aware while making a dream), though this one changes in somewhat of a humorous unexpected way regarding my in-dream role and character.

It starts out with some sort of experiment in an unknown indoor location. A portal is opened after several other insignificant events and conversations occur. I have a desire to go through this portal, which is like a glimmering two-dimensional doorway or wavering plane that is just a bit taller than I am. Someone in unusual plaid pants goes through before me, but after a short time, he is seen to be going into a television that is barely big enough for his waist to clear (probably influenced by a similar movie scene relating to being “stuck”, in “Skinny and Fatty” from 1958 and “Housebound” from 2014), though he manages to go through into the implied alternate world or time. After this, my dream shifts to a western setting, similar to the set of “Gunsmoke”, and it is seemingly the 1800s, possibly the 1880s, because I believe it is mentioned at least once.

There does not seem to be any drama other than a horse having a problem with his front right foot. He goes and rests in the corner of a barn and there is something about being fed a special food to accelerate healing though this scenario becomes odd as he eventually seems to have human-like toes, which will make it difficult to put on a horseshoe.

I fly around in several different positions (including sideways) about ten feet from the ground for some time, including in and out of a hayloft from the outside. At one point, I seem to be in an old saloon (with batwing doors) and I notice my wife, though we apparently have not met yet. I embrace her and think about getting married at some future point (even though I already am in reality). She seems to have, as becoming Miss Universe, been getting ready to be in a remake of “Valley of the Dolls, though as some attempt at a "video noir” television broadcast (which also seems related to the minimal western sets) though I know little about video production as such. I am mostly in a very cheerful mood, though.

As I walk into a different area, I notice my father sitting on a couch with several other people around in a semi-dark room. He is playing an accordion and I feel a strong sense of nostalgia. He seems to recognize me though is younger and has not had me as a son yet. We talk for a fair amount of time, but his voice sounds completely different as well as altered by some sort of electronic device. His entire eyes also glow a bright reflective silver at one point, shining in the otherwise semi-dark room. (For some reason, I do not find this unusual or off-putting even though it is a bit eerie.) I tell him that I am his son, or rather “will be” his son in the future. There are at least seven or eight longer exchanges, but I do not recall all of it.

I notice a man who may be a doctor who is sitting at an antique desk. I ask him what year it is to confirm the old west scenes from earlier in my dream. He says, very slowly (almost as if a part of me is deciding what to make him say) 19… (and at this point I am surprised, as it is not 18…) …78. It is 1978, supposedly. He continues by saying that it is July 24, 1978. (I am not sure of the significance of this in context to my dream, though this was shortly after I moved back to Wisconsin.) I think about the people I had met earlier and wonder why this “old western town” exists during this time period (and for some reason I do not reflect upon it as possibly being a movie set), so I go outside to explore again. It seems to be around afternoon and everything is bright, clear, and realistically detailed.

In probably the most vivid scene, I end up going down a long dusty road (through an otherwise featureless field of grass about a foot high) that is covered with old broken pieces of concrete as the surface (something I have never seen in real life). Some of the pieces are as big as my fist. I notice a few modern buildings in the far distance. I eventually decide to walk back after walking perhaps the distance of four city blocks. I see a car moving in the distance on a different (proper) road. I clearly think to myself how this road would not be suitable for cars (due to how very bumpy it would be as well as having sharp bits of concrete causing problems for the tires) even though it is likely used (or maybe will be used) as such at times. From here, I return to the isolated town with the intent to explore some more.

Memory is a mysterious thing. Relative to the date mentioned in my dream (July 24th, 1978) the 1978 Miss Universe pageant was broadcast live on the in-dream referenced date. “Valley of the Dolls” was also aired. There was also an article in the newspaper we got for that date titled “Those ‘Perry Mason’ Reruns Keep Video Noir Genre Alive”. Additionally, I have a dream journal entry titled “Valley of the Dull” (from April 9, 1978 - my wedding anniversary, though long before I was married on April 9, 1994) where I had written about falling asleep while watching it, the audio and half-awake partly discerned visuals at times integrating with my dream. Memory is a very unusual, though vast precise “storehouse” at times.

Morning of September 6, 2014. Saturday.



This was a series of three shorter typical dreams - after when I woke but fell into a fairly light sleep and a vivid dream state a short time later.

The telephone rings in real life and my wife answers. During that time I am sinking back into a dream state and am somehow aware that my brother-in-law is on the telephone, calling from America. Even though this is so unlikely as to be ridiculous to even consider the possibility, I am somehow convinced to a point where I try to wake myself more as I am certain of the conversation relating to him and his need to talk to me. Of course, I am wrong, and it was just the usual illegal marketing scam call-center call. Another day, another short circuit in dream “logic”.

The second dream is the typical “here I am at King Street in my old apartment” dream. I have not lived there for over twenty years. Of course my family is there as they are now and I have the usual concern that the landlord or landlady will realize we are using the apartment when it is supposed to be empty or I had been away for a very long time not paying rent. This time it is the northeast corner apartment and I am sitting on the floor near the south end of the room listening to music with a slight concern that our activity will alert the owners to our presence. My wife is sitting on the bed facing south and everyone else is in the northern area of the room. I do not question the short-circuiting faux “logic” of how we could possibly all live in one smaller apartment or why our possessions are somehow “still” there after us being supposedly absent or not paying rent for so long, but that is how it is. Interestingly, the usual liminal state of being in “both” places occurs for a time.

The third dream opens with me sitting on the middle of a couch in a smaller featureless room with at least three doorways - and I am aware of an unknown male. He is apparently a television producer or actor (or both) or at least someone related to work in television. He stands to my left. To my right, in walks Jonathan Frakes as he looked about twenty years ago. I had apparently played the president of Star Fleet or some such on at least a couple “Star Trek: The Next Generation” episodes or whatever at an earlier stage (even though I feel and sense that I am only about sixteen or seventeen years old) and am somewhat unsure of what is going to happen next (whether or not I am prepared) because I am apparently going to be in the same role in an upcoming new episode (even though the show has not been filmed for years), but I am confident and at ease, oddly enough. The studio seems to be located somewhere beyond to my right, but I remain seated on the couch. Everybody seems happy, but for some reason I ask them if they usually get along with each other. The response is not negative, but not all that clear either.

Morning of August 8, 2014. Friday.



The main plot of the dream oddly related to my grandfather George. For some reason, time (as well as location) is quite ambiguous (in fact, he was born in 1871 and died in 1945 - long before I was born), and he is alive and fairly healthy even though I am also aware my father had died, so there truly is some strange new ambiguity I have not had before in that I also do not recall having had George in any of my past dreams either. Even more unusual, he is a celebrity relative to music (particularly in the 1920s) prior to my father and had taught him guitar and such - which is all distortion - my father was the one who was more well-known. The location seems to be the southwest room of my sister’s old house on Loomis Street. Along the north wall (near where my mother’s refrigerator was at one point in the past) is some sort of odd composite of jukebox, radio, and cassette tape player, about chest-high. Sometimes the tape gets chewed by flowing out when the capstan gets jammed (recurring). I am aware that he is in the living room at one point.

At one point, my daughter is in the room (and my two youngest sons for a time) - not sure which daughter (it seems to be my oldest but several years younger in-dream, though my youngest is not yet two). Somehow, a bit later, her head or only the right side is there but she is not. When looking at “her”, I am able to “remember” that the right side of her head is unusual in that her ear is not fully defined in that there is no lobe or any “other side” of any of it and her ear is actually only the three-dimensional outer shape itself over her skin, which seems regrettably unfortunate and which apparently was some sort of fictional birth defect. This clear but false memory is not a trigger for lucidity, either.

There were several other random miscellaneous events I do not quite fully recall, a few relating to fictional (or “too advanced”) 1920s audio technology, I think. Odd hodgepodges of fictional “memories” being “relived” is not all that uncommon in dreams.

Morning of December 9, 2013. Monday.



In my dream, it seems to be the last day of middle school, possibly not the last day of the grade but prior to a supposed spring break, involving only sixth to eighth grade classes though I seem to be the oldest and with the highest level of authority in some sort of “commander” role. The part of the “school” we are in (which I perceive as probably being only about a quarter of the size of my real school in conscious afterthought) seems more like a slightly familiar grocery store in some areas, as the larger room is set out with mostly empty aisles similar to a grocery store (and running east to west with us in the west area of the building) but also with sections within the shelf areas that have tables or chairs or openings depending on the section. The northernmost shelf, behind the end section, has a table with my computer set up and with a (fictional) 3-D printer closer to the end section.

Instead of trying to manipulate my dream in my full lucidity, I feel confident enough to remain mentally passive and see what happens (as I already had full control of my martial arts dream that came before this one). The group of students within my dream, mostly male, seems to be of a pretend paramilitary group involved in war games. However, there are no replica weapons, maps, or other aspects at my dream’s beginning point. Our teachers have apparently already left for the day earlier this morning. I continue to have the most authority though am still just another student it seems.

A seemingly familiar classmate in shabby greenish-gray loose-fitting clothing and of a dull-witted visage hands me a (I assume) replica Beretta M1934 (very dark matte blue), apparently from the tall narrow locker in a room through a doorway to the northwest corner. The trigger on the Beretta M1934 seems to be facing the wrong way (the crescent shape pointing towards the user), but I am uncertain of the implications - it would probably still work the same way, as everything else seems correct. (This event may have been influenced by thoughts on the new humidifier we bought in real life, in it having two buttons switched around relative to their functions though it still works). In being annoyed that a dream character had the audacity to try to get the “war games” started on terms other than mine, I mentally transform the pistol into a construct of nougat of the exact same shape and immediately proceed to eat the sweet, wonderful-tasting bluish-colored nougat - at least about twenty-five percent of it. I place it on my table and say “irrelevant” and tell him to go home, which he does a bit reluctantly.



Soon, I start to pull out maps from near the table and place them on the ends of the aisles. The one farthest to the south (all focus here is on the western ends of the aisles and there are at least four) is quite large, with at least six creases and is vertically narrower. It looks the most complex and colorful yet also seems to relate to some sort of Celtic legend or fantasy, possibly relevant to a recently released computer RPG, the implications of which start to bore me. Many of the students (including at least two unknown females) seem more interested in this than the other maps and supposed plans. It seems, though, the majority would still prefer a World War II scenario in the war games, although there are different opinions expressed from time to time, including from a couple students continuously contradicting themselves relative to their interests.

I try to get things going a little better, as there are only a few hours left on this last day before spring break, yet no one is really in costume yet either, so engaging in war games with only the person (with no uniform) and nothing else seems a bit pointless. I ask one person what they would like and they tell me “a blue machine gun”. I go over to my computer and start to type “blue machine gun” so that my 3-D printer will create one. This seems to be going fine as I type b, l, u - but then the keyboard blows up in my face in flame and smoke. There seems to be a clever but unexpected play on “blew” and “blue”, and I am really annoyed by this pun altering my intent. However, I keep going without wanting any of the other dream characters to notice my frustration. There is not much left of my computer keyboard and most of its keys are now missing (but mostly only as if removed for cleaning as there does not appear to be much fire damage), leaving mostly only a hollow space in its center area. The keys that are still on my keyboard and possibly usable are the ones with the least frequency, such as Z, Q, X, J, K, and a few others. I stoically pretend to type “blue machine gun” on the missing keys and mentally force the 3-D printer to come on and create the blue machine gun anyway. I test it and it is one of those toy machine guns that makes a sort of repetitive clacking sound. As I hand the toy weapon to the student, the barrel support turns black. “No, all blue, you imbecile,” I say to the toy weapon, and it changes back, but only for a few seconds, then returns to being all blue except for the barrel support area. Still, the fellow student seems very happy with it and runs off.

I go back to make more items that may be put to use but there is a small isolated adapter on the table related to the monitor and which seems to be open and exposing capacitors and wiring. It soon starts to sizzle, catch on fire, and make a lot of black smoke. I unplug everything. A few people notice my mishaps. Still - I mentally will everything to work without being plugged in while not even pretending to use the computer keyboard at that point. No one comments on (or even seems to care or notice much) me using my equipment without electricity.

I then consider if vehicles will be needed for our war games. I ask another student what sort of vehicle he wants and after seeming to think awhile on it, he says “a road”. I am annoyed and tell him that a road is not a vehicle and am not sure if anything will ever get started before this day ends.

Soon, many of the other students start singing the old Freakies Cereal song (from 1974), which for some reason, has been stuck in my head lately (relative to research for another dream). Apparently, I am now “Boss Moss”. “Make sure you spell it right!” I yell as the real-life song response phrase as they are all singing and leaving via the eastern doorway and then wandering about on the streets in random pursuit of each other. “Wait!” I yell, “that’s not very bright to say spell it right” (doing a dancing rhyme) “it should be ‘make sure you spell it CORRECTLY!’" No one cares, and most are still using “invisible” (imaginary) weapons - and falling over pretending to die and quickly getting up again and zigzagging north up the streets and sidewalks as my dream begins to break up and lose focus with the song still ringing in my head yet with a sense of the beginning of summer (which contradicts the implied season in the first part of my dream).

Morning of December 4, 2013. Wednesday.



I am apparently in the Netherlands, possibly a dream play on the “nether regions” but this dream seems primarily postcognitive.

I am some sort of manager, responsible for the entertainment for, I believe, an airport, although there may also be a bus depot (or some sort of odd building related to travel and with gas pumps) involved - possibly adjoined to some sort of refueling station for longer tours. I know it mostly related to tourism and providing suitable activities. I believe chosen bands even perform on airplanes at times (or even buses, which is not really feasible). Another person also works with me. The other person seems to hold more authority at times, but in the long run, I believe we are equal in our say over what unfolds at that point. Nothing in my dream seems familiar, as if I am someone else. The other man is thin and with light hair and appears to be English (as in being from England).

I meet members of a new band. The lead singer is female and the music, although non-dramatic and non-eventful for the most part, is what I like and want to place in the schedule. (I seem to be thinking on my likes rather than what the public would prefer, which would not be feasible in such a managerial position in real life.)

Later, I appear to be on a bus or in an area that has rows of seats as on a bus - again with the gas pumps (reminding me of a very old joke about an alien talking to a gas pump with the line “he just stood there with his finger in his ear” in description of the gas pump by the alien) - it is not that vivid. The girl is crying when I get up to ask about the band’s schedule and readiness. I am listening to their music on headphones, but can still hear the environmental sounds in my dream through them.

I am not sure of the name of the band I had placed, but I do clearly remember the name of the other band I had never heard of before and by which the other manager replaced the other one with in all scheduling. The other band is called “The Jig”. I am rather angry that the other man decided to feature “The Jig” over the band I have already placed in venues and the one that I know I like. Even more-so, the other band has some rather odd and somewhat offensive terminology in their promotional descriptions even though it seems ambiguous and erroneous to the style of music (and vaguely seeming like broken English or someone who did not fully know what the words meant or implied). The girl looks at me in frustration as I am listening to the work of her band, apparently thinking I have no more interest in their music. (She likely thinks that I am now listening to the other band instead.)

“Is The Jig better?” she cries out, looking back at me. I immediately shake my head, firmly, to calm her. She is a few seats in front of me to my right. Eventually, back at the airport building, I yell at the other man about the situation, and the scheduling is changed back to the first band I had already decided to use. He leaves via the front entrance seeming highly annoyed. I apparently have the most authority at that point.

Strangely enough, there actually is a band called The Jig - from the Netherlands yet. Rather weird postcognition, possibly - am certain I never heard of them in any memorable way, and for that matter, they only have about 650 “likes” on Facebook, which is the first Google match I got. Not only that, I actually do find their description (at least on their Facebook page) rather odd and mildly offensive, almost seeming like broken English as well, as the words do not fit together at all. So that is four things that relate directly (and pretty precisely) to my dream without a “normal” explanation - the name, the location, the odd description, and even symmetrical gas pumps in the logo - seriously weird.

Oddly, my first strong impression of their real logo, with the symmetrical gas pumps, seems to represent people with their fingers in their ears, not wanting to hear the music - or maybe that is the intent (as a sort of self-parody) - hard to say.

I certainly have nothing against them, though, and have not listened to anything by them, so I have no right to comment on their actual performance or music. They apparently have a new album called “Aargh!”

---

Night of October 18, 2013. Friday.



I am sitting and relaxing during a work break at night at a small motel I worked at with a maintenance crew in real life over twenty years ago. There is a smaller analogue television in the corner which, at first, is receiving the broadcast of a news report. A little later, there is mostly only snow and static, but soon, the song “Spanish Harlem” (Ben E. King version) starts playing over and over, audio only, with occasional additional video glitches such as horizontal wavy lines and such. However, the song had been altered and distorted (partly relative to the signal - which may be the result of a nearby storm) to where it seems certain frequency bands have been stripped and replaced almost flawlessly so that almost all of the vocals are gone and particular instruments come and go sort of like a dub reggae mix.

Every now and then, the original vocal line “IN…my GAR..den…” is heard abruptly, sometimes causing the other maintenance workers on the longer break to look up or seem confused or annoyed. At these points, there is sometimes also the brief fuzzy video transmission (only about a second or two at different times) of a shadowy female figure (in a cloak?) standing on the outside of a beginning garden, sometimes the “snow” (video term) becoming actual snow relative to the scene, but it mostly seems like a sunny region where the scene takes place. The song transforms into the Herb Alpert’s Tijuana Brass version, at times seeming like overly loud and overly-compressed-sounding tones coming from old squarish loudspeakers at a bullfight. I enjoy the song, though (one of my older favorites which I also played on the piano fairly often). I am not sure where the broadcast is coming from, or if it is some sort of mix-up of television and radio broadcasts as I have seen in real life in the past from either medium. There is a very slight association with the “Prince of Darkness” movie from 1987. The “broadcast” as at the end of the movie is perhaps coming from my wife thirty or forty years from now, in the future, through some sort of advanced technology sending “broadcasts” directly into my mind (again, as in the movie but in a far more viable and positive light) to give me clues about the present (as it sometimes seemed in dreams when I was very young and as a young adult).

Morning of September 7, 2013. Saturday.



Just when I thought I have had almost every dream possible about variation in how sound presents itself, along comes something more complex and interesting in seeing, hearing, and feeling it (with the potential of even smell and taste, supposedly).

In this dream, my wife and I are living back at Clayfield, the second place we lived in real life since we were married.

There is a large, long device that is used in arranging music and it is all based on modules and nodes that fit into various fairly narrow compartments (the potential width of each adjustable section seems to relate to the note length), almost like the physical manifestation of a DAW. Recently, in real life, I had been working on a fairly new concept, even mentally in a precise way when falling asleep - of integrating sound in three-dimensional continuity in the sense of frequency bands mixing seamlessly.

In my dream, my “machine” is almost like a piano in concept and does have a type of smaller keyboard (but used only for testing the overall sound or “hit” of an individual compartment in a sequence of a measure - from left to right - a completely different concept than a spread of potential usable notes on a piano), but the main focus is on the compartments, each almost like a miniature breadbox. Each and every sonic totality of a particular instrument is a special module, about the size of a paperback novel - each with its own interesting properties. Each module fits in each adjustable area as part of a particular rendered measure (again, from left to right). It is somehow rendered to another machine (a smaller one on the other side of the room) before its final form (or master) in the form of a strong “ribbon” (which the sound is recorded on).

I feel a great interest in the different parts and how they fit. One part, about seven or eight compartments from the left, is part of a conga fill, I think, or at least one module of a conga drum, and perhaps a tom or two of different tones (which is a bit “off” as it is only the first measure of the song and would not have a fill unless that measure was a short intro, which actually may be the case in my dream, though it does seem more like a verse. Most of these pieces are somewhat rectangular and everything seems to be made of mostly wood, with some metal and perhaps other materials here and there, such as a miniature drum membrane set inside a compartment within another compartment at a forty-five degree angle and sliding doors within other sliding sections at times. I eventually notice that some of these things have aspects of other notes from other instruments somehow physically inside them, and can be set (almost like a mousetrap) to work in different ways when the machine uses the particular setup.

I see very clearly, the different parts, almost as if the snare drum and conga sounds (as well as the implied organ or synthesizer parts I have in the machine) are aspects of a “giant harmonica” within the machine. I focus on how the snare and conga modules have different types of holes in the front and relate that in the same way you would relate differences in harmonica or accordion reeds. Even though all the modules look basically the same in size, other than how they are narrower with shorter notes, I become focused and highly interested in the different, more subtle structures, and other compartments inside those.

Another strange technical aspect is how my mind somehow combined the idea of the black keys and white keys of a piano (or any other keyboard) with the idea of the size orientation and placement of the measure parts, which really does not make any sense, almost comparable to only being able to play a guitar by using one string at a time, and only being able to go downwards exactly one string at a time for each note or event. Also, regarding my dream perception itself, the width of a key on a piano has nothing to do with how long the note has to be held. I guess it is an example of how dreams combine completely different ideas into one in a very unusual way.

After time, I do start to wonder how a more complex mix (say of eight tracks, or several individual bands or ranges) can be designed. The small wooden modules of the brass notes may even be club-shaped (rather than more rectangular) and slide in at an angle above the organ sections. If the brass has two notes on the hit, it is a club within a club that is attached internally by a wire perhaps, and slides inside the machine, each internal compartment within another compartment being perhaps two-thirds the size of the previous. There is also a vague awareness of the actual coil of a real spring reverb of a real amp (but miniaturized) in one of the compartments. There may also be velvety heart-shaped modules, like a miniature box of candy (but without the candy itself) and resonating with a flute-like lilt.

I really do not complete a project; I mostly only dwell on the one measure and its potential, which still seems like a great deal of complexity to ponder. This also reminds me, in parts, of the childhood “obsession” I had with being more interested in the smaller cardboard container (and its mysterious “hidden” sections) of the chocolate Easter bunny than the chocolate itself.

At any rate, this machine would not be feasible in reality, as it would take up far too much space for even a two-minute song, and where would you get all the potentially endless modules and nodes and where on Earth would you store them? - you would need something close in size to an entire town or at least a several-block area, or a few really tall buildings - imagine if all the DVD movies you had took up the space implied by the sets in them, even solely within the range of where the main focus was on the actors. This is also somewhat akin to dreaming about computer games being an actual physical device (such as a large and complex three-dimensional board game with robotic tokens) than a computer screen.

Morning of July 23, 2006. Sunday.



In my dream, I am seemingly back in America in the southern area of the backyard of my sister Marilyn’s house on Loomis Street in Wisconsin, as it is at least of my main location recognition at one level. However, even though the area mostly looks like this part of La Crosse, I also seem to be in the West Indies at the same time (though it does not feel quite like a typical bilocated setting even though it technically is). To the southeast and across the street is a very tall palm tree and I am aware that it is the “tallest palm”. There also seems to be some sort of government building opposite the street from my sister’s house, though a bit south. I eventually notice other features that make the area seem more like it would naturally be near the ocean. The focus on the one tall palm tree seems important as if “The Tallest Palm” was some sort of expression related to civics. Nothing happens other than being in the fictional composite setting and reflecting on peaceful associations. There is a very clear awareness of the blue sky and it is perhaps in early afternoon.

This dream eventually seemed to form music, which I got at least the main motif from, which was called “The Tallest Palm” and the instrumental reggae track was eventually released on a compilation CD with other artists as a benefit for wounded soldiers; released on July 30, 2007 by DMusic.

For some reason, this “same” dream (though not with the original blissful feelings throughout as it had less emotion) came back to me on the morning of July 23, 2015. Thus, this is a good example of an “anniversary” type of dream (as stated before, more evident with holidays and important dates, I think).

Morning of January 1, 2002. Tuesday.

Dream #: 12,797-05. Reading time: 48 sec.



I am in the northeast corner of the Cubitis living room listening to records on a gramophone of surreal appearance. The scene does not trigger any sense of wrongness. I see it as “mine.”

I am later looking at a map of the Aleutian Islands, though I am unsure of what I am doing. I know what I am looking at has significance. The region is incorrectly above the northwest area of Australia, though I do not see it as incorrect. The world does not have much land. Most of the eastern hemisphere seems mainly small islands. (The scenario has occurred in other dreams.)

While outside, I see an unusual light in the sky. It is eventually clearer. It is a piece of the moon, shaped like a jigsaw puzzle piece. It is returning to the moon like a “spaceship.” I see cracks on the moon’s surface that define the shapes of standard jigsaw puzzle pieces. There is a sense of both peace and puzzlement.

---

The main dream state indicator was “The Aleutian Islands,” “Aleutian” sounding somewhat like “illusion” (as a dream state reference). Jigsaw puzzle patterns occur when a dream causes puzzlement in ambiguous liminal space between dreaming and waking.

---

Morning of October 24, 1981. Saturday.



I am in a music store that is similar to one in real life (in La Crosse). At one point earlier on it seems I am having two dreams at the same time (not all that uncommon for me when considering the different types of parallel dreaming and ambiguous “junk” composites). My alternate dream solely involves Toby T urinating outside against the outer wall of an old brick apartment building (of about four storeys) seemingly in the early afternoon in an area where people see him from the windows of the second storey. No drama unfolds, though this causes me to see him as eerily disrespectful and possibly even perverse for some reason.

Meanwhile, my main dream involves trying out new electronic keyboards in the store, including electric pianos. I do most testing while standing and trying the ones near the counter. The ones I try are not really suitable. Mostly, I continue to test with Beethoven’s “Für Elise”, but in every case, there are not enough keys to play the full range of the song (though I seemingly try to adapt in some cases). Some of the keyboards are not even made correctly. For example, the black keys go all the way across (or with too many in a row) instead of having the C# and D# two-black-keys sections as apart from the F# to A# three-black-keys set, thus making it impossible to tell what notes you are playing - note the wrong keyboard design with this entry that apparently actually exists (I did not change the image). With a couple of the keyboards, the keys are just too small, rendering it unplayable (as with some portable ones in real life - unless played by a child). One keyboard does not actually seem electric, just like an odd miniature piano with only about a two octave range. A couple products seem fake, or at least not feasible as a usable instrument.

I say to no one in particular (though likely more directed at the cashier or perhaps the manager if he is nearby at the time), “How do you expect me to play Beethoven on a piano like this?”

At one point, I pick up an accordion and my dream starts to become more and more vivid. When I attempt to play some keys on the accordion, it actually starts “singing” in layered human voices, somewhat like a barbershop quartet. All it sings is the musical phrase “strawberry fields forever” and I am filled with awe and enhanced perception. However, even though I am becoming lucid at this point, I soon wake.

This dream was precognitive (though solely from my personal perspective) as it was some time before I ever actually saw or learned more about digital sampling keyboards.

Morning of September 29, 1981. Tuesday.



A seemingly shorter dream (after a series of unrelated dreams), deemed shorter in conscious afterthought (which consequently probably seemed much longer than it was, almost “timeless” at the time) involved a boy’s spirit (a young boy, Scott R, who my sister was watching in real life at the time, as his mother had abandoned him) somehow becoming part of a bumblebee, yet also moving about in an invisible “cloud” of some kind at the same time. He is singing a melancholy song about being a bumblebee. One line is “Beh-beh-beh-bumblebee” (which is not a stutter but a slow musical intonation). It almost seems like a sort of prayer as well as a “cheerful” yet somehow mournful inference.

At the waking stage, he lands on the top of the south fence of the backyard of my sister’s house on Loomis Street, which divides her backyard and the neighbor’s backyard.

---

This is part 2 of a random but extensive set of dreams pertaining primarily to fence autosymbolism (which means it is inherent to the dream state, not waking life). A fence is rendered as a metaphorical barrier between the dream state and the waking world, though can also serve as induction and dream state revivification in some cases (though not as often as doors do in my case).

In addition to liminal space autosymbolism, the very common dynamic of vestibular system correlation is present, with a bee as representing synaptic gating (due to the association with a bee “buzzing” and loosely associated with electricity as such). Thus, the bee is the preconscious factor of this dream. (The preconscious is often personified, and because the bee seems to have Scott’s essence on one level, it is partial personification here.)

An additional but inexplicable factor is that the boy (Scott) also had the same dream during the same time period (though from his viewpoint as actually seeming to be a singing bee). Most people do not accept shared dreaming (or in fact anything they cannot explain) even though I have experienced it continuously since earliest memory, especially with Zsuzsanna. However, this series is for explaining fence autosymbolism and to help rise above the deception of “interpretation”. People will believe whatever they want regardless of someone else’s knowledge and experience. After all, each life is unique.

In part 1, I wrote a little about the relevance of the rabbit. In that dream, it was a factor of returning to deeper sleep (even though it occurred during what would otherwise be the waking process), while this dream is a factor of closeness to waking (and was the last dream of my sleep cycle). (The rabbit goes under the fence but is stuck for a time within the fence itself. The bee in this dream lands on the fence with the assumption it will keep flying. Neither dream relates to waking life, but the dreaming process itself.)

---

Morning of December 23, 1969. Tuesday.



Sometimes a wrongful association stays with you as a sort of symbolic memory that is triggered by later recall. Dreams have a lot of “power” (or rather influence) at times, especially childhood dreams that seem “practiced” into a new (distorted) idea. In this case, the Christmas song “The Holly and the Ivy” is portrayed as something completely different than what the song is about - and this is likely unique to my own personal view and way of thinking. Instead of about plants, it is about a bloody battle between the lion and the unicorn.

The reasons for this are not entirely illogical in my opinion. There is a line in the song that is “the holly bears the crown”, which makes me think of “king” and of course the lion (especially as it seems impossible for me to associate a plant with a crown - even “crown of thorns”, sometimes changed to “crown of nails” depending on which story you go by, is something that does not immediately come to mind), and as there is also the line “and the running of the deer” which probably aided in creating this fictional representation of the song, as a deer is an animal with a very vague association with a unicorn. The fact that I did not understand hardly anything in the song (and the fact that it is somewhat meandering and incoherent as it is) at the time did not help either. Thus, dreams often “experiment” with potential interpretations of real life - just as in real life, you interpret aspects of dreams. A full circle, it seems. The inside and outside “worlds” are always trying to resolve things not yet understood. Dreams seem a large part of that cycle, which means some aspects of dreams are far less meaningful than conscious learning, contrary to what some people seem to believe, but there are many different types and states, of course - and dreams resulting from meditation, affirmation, and projection have different properties than those trying to resolve something not understood from real life.

The words themselves are also tricky. “Holly” can be altered to “holy” and “ivy” to “ivory”, thus adding to the idea that a mythical unicorn is more along the concept of an “ivory tower” which I have also associated with “castle in the air”. At any rate, this incorrect association is probably with me for life, even now in August of 2014.

Morning of July 2, 1978. Sunday.



There were a few different versions of this dream (including a couple “resets” during the same sleeping period) which was likely influenced by the television series “Gunsmoke”. I make my way to an old, smaller (unknown) ghost town on my own. There is a skeleton hanging from an old noose that had never been taken down. I had understood the town to be “cursed”, yet it also has some sort of secret.

It turns out that the town is some sort of portal to the past. As I am walking along, I see an upright oval portal (higher up) in another area that is looking into the past. It is a man (about thirty) who still seems to be alive (but dying) and hanging from the noose. The “vision” soon fades. The town had been “cursed” because of his wrongful death - by the tavern entrance being turned into an active portal and the people being “pawns” of time itself.

Later on, when I walk through the batwing doors of an old tavern (wooden floor), I am transported into the past, into the time when the town was at its peak in population and prosperity. Someone is playing the song “There is a Tavern in the Town” on a newer (and properly tuned) piano.

I talk to a few people, including the man who had been hanged. Apparently, he had been hanged for murder. However, he seems very friendly and claims he did not do it. Eventually, a knife is thrown into someone’s neck from behind, just as they are leaving the tavern, and the friendly man I know is blamed. I go in and out of the batwing doors and back to the same time portal entry point. The song “There is a Tavern in the Town” keeps repeating (a thin man in a dark purplish vest and a white shirt and with a mustache and smoking a smaller cigar - is playing it), as I do this a few times, so the scenes repeat. Finally, I am able to see who actually throws the knife (an older, chubbier man of about forty with a black beard and dressed in ragged clothes). Eventually, as the cycle repeats, I am able to warn the other person. The villain gets away, though, but promises to do harm at some point in the future.

Soon, I am in my own time; there is an unserviced player piano (originally thought to be a ghost involved by some visitors) playing “There is a Tavern in the Town”, but it is very out of tune (or in an unfamiliar minor key) and playing very slowly (similar to a particular Johnny Bond recording I used to own in real life - not sure, but it may be from the “On the Wagon” narrative - have not heard it in many years). It seems that the town was eventually made into a tourist attraction for a short time, prior to it finally being abandoned.

I see a very eerie in-dream vision of an empty noose swinging in the wind (it was the same noose that had originally been used to hang the innocent man but is now empty). I had saved the young man from the hanging. He comes out from the portal and thanks me, but then tells me that time may eventually reset itself and he may have to face the idea of “being hanged again” and he then returns to his own time. Still, the skeleton and noose are gone when I make my way home. The “resetting” may not occur in my lifetime.

Morning of October 22, 1977. Saturday.



Steve J, Steve W, and possibly Tina L, and others and I are visiting what is supposedly Chick Corea’s house. There is something very special about the house and it has some sort of “magic” as well as being haunted. This has something to do with the jazz fusion group Return to Forever. We go up a flight up steps which seem to be fairly narrow and along the wall (and with no railing). Later, the area looks much like my boarding house on King Street before I lived there or saw any of the inside and there was a very clear precognitive sense.

There is some minor ambiguity at one point which is related to a book or movie called “Korea’s House”.

There is a point where we are all leaning back against the wall slightly to stop ourselves from going over the other side of the staircase and it also appears I am watching the scene (including seeing myself) from another perspective. We look as if we are slightly distorted from fun-house mirrors. There is also something about lightning (or a bolt of lightning) moving around inside the house as if it was a “pet” of some kind.

There is the idea that someone hanged themselves on a chandelier in one room (which turned out to be related to something the pinhead Leonard S told me later on when I lived on King Street and thus also precognitive, though the story was only his fantasy).

---

Last updated in 1980 with regard to the precognitive validation.

---