Blue_Opossum

Morning of September 17, 2016. Saturday.



I am with my wife Zsuzsanna looking at a smoother version of Google Maps that is almost like watching clear film footage. The view is being shown as if driving down Highway Seventeen (now called Cubitis Avenue). I show her where Harold M lives, going south at first, although the orange grove is gone. I see the new fence near where I used to live.

After a time, I am on the scene without giving my transition much notice. I appear to be just south of my old home, but it seems to be gone. In fact, the entire area seems empty except for one shed closer to the highway. The area seems shaped somewhat like an elongated right triangle. I tell someone else how “my house is gone”. However, a short time later, I notice it is actually there, though appears to be some sort of greeting card store with the entrance to the south (rather than west). Although this puzzles me, I have a interest in continuing north to see how things have changed.

I somehow end up at an unfamiliar travel agency in a tall building, near a long counter on the north end of a small room that also features a tall postcard rack, though I am not really interested in a brochure someone gives me. I am now trying to find my way out of the building. I try to go through a doorway, but it seems it is not actually a doorway because it is too narrow for anyone to go through and is more like an open corner of two truncated walls with a narrow glass and metal window. I ask an older businessman how to get out of the building and he points to a flight of steps just to my left. I soon see that one can go either up or down from here. The steps going down appear to lead to an enclosed parking area. I try going up but decide it is probably going to be too steep. I decide to use the front entrance, where I should have left through in the first place.

I soon end up in a similar situation in what seems like a restaurant. This time I decide to go down a flight of stairs but I do it by sitting down and then sliding down on my backside. There is an unfamiliar woman with her young daughter and they also use the stairs but the woman seems confused about where she is going. “Get back here,” she says to her daughter, because the bottom of the stairs opens out into an enclosed street, which I then follow into an outside area. Even though using a flight of stairs in a dream shifts my consciousness in a more perceptible way, I do not become lucid.

I go past an automobile repair shop and filling station. There are four young men, perhaps only about nineteen or twenty years of age, who are working on a car. I think one of them is Brenda W’s younger brother Albert. I then realize that would be ridiculous since he would be around fifty years old by now. Still, he and the others seem cheerful and happy to see me even though I am probably a total stranger to these four. I then decide that I will actually look for Brenda.

“Do you know where Brenda lives?” I ask, giving her full name. They nod happily and say they will show me. Along the way, I notice it now seems late at night. Apparently she still lives in the same house she has all her life. I follow them northward. After a time, instead of four mechanics, they transform into mimes, even being dressed differently with no discernible changing-of-clothes event. I do not really regard this absurd change. They circle around me while making exaggerated up-and-down wing motions with their arms as if they were birds (which in fact is a tertiary dream sign due to the movie and cartoon gag of the circling of birds around the head of someone who has been knocked unconscious, though I do not catch this very obvious clue). They also pretend to be scuba divers and competitive swimmers as we continue along. Eventually, they all hold out their hands close to me as if expecting me to give them coins for their performances.

When we reach Brenda’s driveway when it now seems to be late morning after being late at night moments before, I give one of them fifty cents; two shiny American quarters. He tells me to follow the path to house number eight. They go on their way as I very soon see a metal screen door with the number eight written on it in black with a felt pen. I also see the numbers nine and ten written on the door with a felt pen, but those numbers have a diagonal line (which slopes down to the left) through them (to invalidate their previous implied usage as the house number it seems.

I see Brenda through the window of the screen door. She is sitting in an armchair. To my right, I curiously see, through a row of windows, a row of open bags of cement, gravel, and sand sitting inside the house but I do not think it to be that unusual. They are vertically propped up against the windows on my side so that I mostly only see the tops.

“You can just keep going on to the next house,” she says in her Southern accent and with undisguised sarcasm. She seems younger than she would actually be; about forty. Still, she slowly recognizes me and as she opens the door as I am still standing on the outside steps, I tell her how I am married to a wonderful woman and have five children. This is strange because I still do not have an iota of lucidity. I tell her that I am sorry for not telling her more about things when we were younger. We embrace, but it is not sexual in any way, more as a simple acknowledgement and preconsciousness to waking consciousness transition in liminal space.

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Brenda was usually a verified “stand-in” for my soulmate (Zsuzsanna) regardless of our real-life relationship. She sometimes formed half of a composite when my “mystery girl” was not more clearly defined as Zsuzsanna (before I met her). This dream seems unusual (especially after all this time) as she mostly seems to represent herself as well as my preconscious personification where she only appeared as such in my childhood dreams, and one dream of 1991 just prior to finding out my “mystery girl” (Zsuzsanna) was actually a real person with appearance, unlikely accent, birth date, birth location, and every single nuance (including unlikely mixed ethnicity) being the same since seen in dreams from earliest memory.

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I am slightly puzzled over the bags of cement. They appear near windows and may be a dream sign due to their resemblance to the shape of a pillow (thus could be a play on my pillow being subliminally perceived as being too hard or not of “perfect” comfort). However, gravel, cement, and dry sand sometimes represent low-level dehydration. It could be a mix of both, though I was atypically thirsty when I woke.

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Morning of December 8, 1969. Monday.

Dream #: 1,085-02. Reading time (optimized): 1 min.



This dream scene is the final and most vivid of an incomplete narrative about Brenda and I using an elevator inside a tree to visit an underground world. The elevator operator is probably a Munchkin (of about my height - note that I was eight years old when I experienced this dream) from “The Wizard of Oz” (1939). The setup is similar to the one the wizard uses. The tree has a doorway at ground level but is otherwise a version of the tree in the northwest corner of West Elementary School’s playground. There is a cheerful mood. I sense it is early morning.

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My dream interprets my status of becoming more aware during the waking process as having been underground (asleep).

My dream interprets my instinctual awareness of being in REM sleep and its temporary condition of sleep atonia as my dream self being inside an imaginary tree because a tree is immobile.

My dream interprets my liminal anticipation of becoming more aware, both consciously and physically, during the waking transition, with the use of an elevator. It is a transition from the immobility of the tree.

The Munchkin is the modulatory personification of the vestibular system correlation of the waking process.

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My dream was also influenced by “The Night of the Green Terror” episode of “The Wild Wild West.” Dr. Loveless (Michael Dunn, the dwarf, dressed as Robin Hood), had an underground tree hideout accessed via a door. Even so, there was no negative undertone at any point in my dream.

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Night of January 1, 1968. Monday.



I am with Brenda W (though she is not directly next to me and is to my right, though sometimes ahead of me). We need to get to the area where others are involved in a picnic, though this is not logical as it is not yet sunrise, though it is light enough to see most detail. There are a number of coiled sleeping snakes around the area that we have to tiptoe past. (I take these snakes to be water moccasins though they do not appear as such - “water moccasins” being a play on typical water induction and a play on not wearing “real” shoes in the dream state, that is, while asleep in bed). Their coiled bodies are about six inches in width or more. Looking closely, some snake heads seem a bit too big for their body and are about twice as big as my hand. For a moment, I hear the snakes snoring. (This is probably my own snoring though there is a bizarre myth amidst a vast sea of dream myths that people “cannot snore and dream at the same time”).

Eventually, I find myself approaching a picnic table, which is longways in my path. An overweight classmate is the only one seated and Brenda has vanished. “What are you doing?” she demands. I realize that I am still walking in an odd stealthy manner. Looking back, I see the “snakes” were “actually” automobile tires in a random arrangement (even though they were originally snakes).

For some reason, I decide that the picnic table’s seat is a good place to lie down on. I also discover that I am not fully dressed though do not feel that out of place. I soon discover that I had been carrying a sheet all that time (even though I actually had not). I hear Peggy puffing in the background as if she is annoyed but I could not care less. It seems to almost be like snoring.

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Snakes have often had associations with the human intestine as I was growing up, though there are a number of completely different associations depending on dream context. I am going to assume the intestine here since it is associated with a picnic and eating - and even more so, a “spare tire” is also a reference to the stomach and being overweight - which may be a perspective on Peggy and her demeanor as I was not overweight at this time. Being fully dressed and then not dressed (with the false memory of never having been dressed up to that point) is a dream sign waking transition that merely reflects that a person does not usually wear clothes when they sleep. Even the sheet and deciding the picnic table is my bed is an obvious dream sign waking transition. In fact, even the snakes being asleep is an obvious dream sign though a large snake is typically also a coalescence precursor which does not activate here. Instead, I “go back to sleep” and wake up on my own without a need for my dream self to be “swallowed” back into my whole self. (There is also a possible link to “being tired” and the snakes being asleep.)

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