Blue_Opossum

Morning of December 27, 2018. Thursday.

Dream #: 19,001-04. Reading time (optimized): 1 min.



I become aware of looking at the Internet, though my conscious self identity is not extant and I do not know the nature of the setting, though it likely implies my present home. The web page is similar in layout to the now-defunct DMusic blog.

I see various color photographs of guinea pigs in somewhat human-like positions and activities. In the final picture, the animal is sitting upright on a toilet with the lid down and appears to be praying. Below the short videos and images is a list of about seven comments by the same unfamiliar man, each beginning with my first name. One reads, “Claude is impressed by all the work we are doing with our guinea pigs. "Another reads, "Claude was amazed by the final scene of our guinea pig in his act of perfection.”

I start to feel both annoyed and puzzled by why someone would make these claims. There had neither been any dialogue between us nor any way of him seeing me or any of my reactions.

Soon, I am in an outdoor scene in late morning, in an unknown rural area. The people, seemingly all part of a “lunatic fringe” religious group, who had photographed and filmed the guinea pigs, have an attraction where children walk through a narrow two-tiered cage of guinea pigs and chickens. I start to wonder if the visiting children sometimes step on or injure the guinea pigs, but I do not witness any mishaps of that nature. My dream fades from this point.

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Morning of October 25, 2018. Thursday.

Dream #: 18,938-02. Reading time (optimized): 2 min. Readability score: 83.



In late morning, I find myself in a big barn (in an unknown location) that serves as a recording studio for the Beatles. There is much sound equipment on hay bales and the barn floor, such as big amplifiers and mixing consoles, but I do not see any musical instruments. There are a few unfamiliar men present, one being a producer, another, a sound engineer.

While a man is checking a track, there is an unusual drum fill where the snare audio reverses at least twice. The man is puzzled and asks Paul McCartney what that was, but he does not reply. A different “drum fill” is heard, but it turns out to be someone knocking on the barn door. (This scene is ambiguous for two reasons, one, a door knock would not have reverse audio and two, the sound came from the equipment.)

A man comes in with a tiger that belongs to John Lennon’s wife (Cynthia Powell). He pets it for a short time. There is no sense of danger.

Later, there is an unknown man with a Bainbridge livestock prod. He taps the tiger with it on the rump, and John and the man with the tiger slowly leave the barn. They seem cheerful. Next, the man uses the prod on some farm animals. He touches the rump of a horse with it to get it to move to the corner of the barn. The horse seems annoyed but goes where the man wants him to go.

I do not see any of the Beatles at this point and decide to leave the barn. I go around to the back and see a young version of Zsuzsanna, who is about eight years old. However, my real-life identity is not extant in this dream, and so my dream self does not recall who she is. There is a cage adjacent to the back of the barn. There are at least three brown-mantled tamarins in the cage, a mother and two babies. Zsuzsanna is sitting on the ground watching them. She does not speak. I hold the paw of the mother tamarin, stroking the fur on the back of its “hand.” It seems tame.

Later, I get up and go back into the barn, which is now empty and full of hundreds of flies that start buzzing in my face. The air is thick with them, and they are loud. I soon decide to leave the barn and slowly wake after I walk back out. As I wake, I realize that the illusion of the flies was a distortion of the sound of the fan and its air on my face (from the foot of the bed).

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Two other dreams came before this, one of sending many DVDs over time to a member of the dream journal website (a long-term male poster). The other related to capturing each instrument from the Beatles’ “Being for the Benefit of Mr. Kite!” to use virtual versions (mostly on keyboards) for a live cover.

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Morning of August 16, 2018. Thursday.

Dream #: 18,868-02. Reading time: 2 min 15 sec.



In subliminal mode (dream creation and control without lucidity), my dream self chooses to ride in the back of a car. (This is the same stem of subliminally desired vestibular system correlation that otherwise creates flight events but with less anticipation of the biological process that results in a falling start). After creating this scene as a passive transition, I watch the scenery to my right. I am uncertain of who the driver is. (It is the preconscious avatar of course, but I remain unsure of its identity in this segment, but I vaguely perceive it is female, probably a thread of conscious self identity implying Zsuzsanna, as she is sleeping on my left at the time.) It seems to be late morning. It is a beautiful sunny day under blue skies.

We go past an enormous cow pasture on our right. There is not much definition of the driver on the left. It is an American car. (I am subliminally choosing not to augment my dream, as I sleep on my left side). Despite its size, there are only a few cows here and there, which I find puzzling. They are all black-and-white Holstein cows of a very similar appearance as if my dream utilized the Photoshop clone stamp tool.

Eventually, we come to crossroads (which represents reticular formation mediation). I look back and see that one end of the cow pasture (on the road perpendicular to the one we are on) is unfenced. There are several houses along that area with large side yards. I start to wonder if cows sometimes get out through that area. (This is a very passive changeover of liminal space division, which a fence otherwise represents. Of course, this scene also causes my dream to jump into a different stage.)

I am now inside a big featureless room that is not well lit. An unfamiliar male climbs a rope up to a square cage hanging from the ceiling that is almost touching it. A bobcat is sitting inside the cage. The man, who reminds me of the essence of a magician, opens the door of the cage and starts petting the bobcat. It seems very tame. The man and the bobcat start hugging and kissing. I soon wake.

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Climbing a rope (whether or not it is the dream self or projected into an avatar) is usually the final metaphorical representation of vestibular system correlation during the waking process, though it is less common than flight-related events. A cat is a form of the preconscious as a “witness” to the dream state, while the man is a transition of the dream self and an emerging consciousness factor. It is a unification (coalescence) process.

My dream’s model is typical (though again, not as common as flight-related vestibular modulation), for example, “Climbing a Vine” (March 4, 2017), uses the same model, only it is integrated rather than projected. Additionally, that dream perceives the reticular formation as a possible threat rather than resolving liminal space with unification.

The dynamics behind this dream stem from having watched “Sabretooth” (2002) with Zsuzsanna last night. It transmuted the negative unification factor (as the cat in the movie attacked and ate people) into a more harmonious unification factor. It is the desired waking process rectification other than when the immune system is under attack (as in my “Night of the Rat” dream from April 8, 1978).

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Morning of February 5, 2018. Monday.



I enter an unusual state of faux lucidity, where I have the awareness of what the dream state is and how to create and manipulate dreams, but I do not have my conscious self identity or full realization I am dreaming at the time even as I am creating and manipulating my dream (a bizarre enigma that cannot be resolved in waking life thought, yet which I otherwise experience very often). This is different from states where I am aware of my conscious self at one level, yet do not recall what a dream is, though I am still able to greatly influence dream events and features. This validates that the nature of RAS mediation is not predictable due to the variations of circadian rhythms, as the biological need to wake varies depending on depth of sleep, physical needs, and certain thought processes - many of which are random (for example, threads of something seen on television or material from a book).

I step into the dream state, yet immediately lose conscious self monitoring. I find myself walking through an open area that seems to be a wide street in an unfamiliar city. I am thinking to myself about what time period that I want the dream’s setting to occur in. I think about it being the 1920s, 1930s, or 1940s, and decide I will make it the 1930s.

I watch people walk around, dressed as if they were from the 1930s (although it had been the 1920s before I willed the change). I offer to help an unfamiliar woman (of about fifty) by carrying her package, but she is not interested in me helping her.

Next, I focus on dream state indicators (still without viable awareness that I am dreaming at the time, as this is by residual threads of habit in the lucid dream state since childhood). I find myself in the southwest bedroom of Cubitis (where I have not been since June of 1978). A young version of Zsuzsanna is in the bed, which is aligned along the south wall, head at the southwest corner. I create a radio for her to listen to, but then I am trying to remember if the songs that are playing are from the 1930s or from a much later period, as I do not want to alarm her with inexplicable sounds.

I get distracted and summon a group of dream characters to then look through the door of my room. However, the doorway opens into a landscape instead of my old Cubitis bedroom. I create the essence of a dinosaur in the distance (a typical act in faux lucidity since childhood) and tell the unknown people to watch. The dinosaur eventually appears, but is like a mix of stegosaurus and tyrannosaurus. It moves over the top of a mountain, from right to left in profile (subliminal reinduction attempt), and roars. It is far away at this time and poses no threat.

From here, I go back to the southwest bedroom, but then RAS mediation temporarily increases and I go into the bathroom (and although I do have to use the bathroom in reality, it is not yet that intense a wake-up call), as I am aware the dinosaur is in the house (which makes no sense as it would be too big) and I am now wary of it (even though I had deliberately created it minutes before). I close the door to subliminally avoid the waking activation. I feel soft weight pressing against the door, but I am able to keep it closed. Still, RAS mediation triggers an offset dream of a different level of awareness rather than doorway waking symbolism fully activating.

Entering a different dream state and level of awareness, I then find myself walking with a group of people that I had summoned. Zsuzsanna is present as she is now. We are all walking through an unknown city.

Ahead, and to our right, next to the curb, is an oversized vehicle that resembles a giant stagecoach (more like a stagecoach illogically mixed with a circus train car and doubled in size). It is basically a cage on wheels in the shape of a giant colorful stagecoach. The area behind where the driver would sit is an open area where a lion jumps up and looks down at us. There are other lions in the cage in the bottom area. I am thinking that the lion will jump down near us, but it remains in its location, as something vague in the back of my mind reminds me of subliminal dream manipulation but not directly and not with viable lucidity. This is a bizarre enigma, to subliminally reflect on subliminal (non-lucid) control of the dream state without being viably aware of being in the dream state and yet controlling the dream anyway.

From here, there is an area where people are watching a gorilla walk around. P.T. Barnum is present and showing off the gorilla. There is a cage, and straw covers the street upon where the cage had been placed, but the gorilla is able to leave the cage through the open area. There is no threat however, and the people do not seem that impressed. There is an unknown girl present and I tell her to become part of the scene so that there is an additional ape for the people to view. She does not look like a gorilla of course, but I eventually decide to make her with hair all over. She goes over to the gorilla and P.T. Barnum seems slightly puzzled but somewhat appreciative, even though the girl is not actually a gorilla or acts like one. It seems the public will believe anything, which pleases him. I vaguely remember the Barnum effect, which relates to people who believe in “dream interpretation”. My dream eventually fades with no dominant RAS event. (P.T. Barnum is the personified preconscious in this case, though my dream self already has a thread of emergent consciousness evidenced by my odd state of faux lucidity, so I wake without the need for a strong emotion as the waking alert factor.)

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Morning of August 26, 2017. Saturday.



I am with my wife Zsuzsanna in an unknown residence that my dream self sees as ours. We have a large cage with three sections of equal size. Each section has the essence of an area in a zoo with miniature animals. The middle section has a few deer. The deer are no bigger than my hand. The cage is about as tall as I am.

At one point, I notice a small amount of water running down in a narrow stream. It seems to be meant to flow into a container for drinking water but it is just outside of the area I look at. I see that each section has an area for drinking water, but apparently each container is in a different area. I try to adjust something which changes the flow of the water. It seems unusual in that each built-in pipe seems slightly out of alignment to fill the container.

The running water changes each time to being near each of the three drinking areas for the animals as I adjust something near the top of the cage facing the room, but I do not see it working fully prior to waking.

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I had this dream after reading more about the glymphatic system. Flowing water typically relates to this process during sleep (as water dynamics relate directly to sleep dynamics as such), but as it is biological, cannot be controlled. The miniature animals then, are probably associated with astrocytes. Towards waking, there is less fluid flowing. Water (the main basis of dream state induction) getting lower over time has been common waking symbolism since early childhood. This is possibly another variation of it. Electrical activity of neurons synchronizes as we fall asleep, so this may be a form of subliminal reinduction (that is, an attempt to synchronize flow even though I have likely slept long enough), in which case a dynamic of my non-lucid dream self may be biological as in a number of past dreams. (This was not my last dream of the sleeping period and I fell into slow-wave sleep again.)

On a much simpler level, it may also be relating that one cannot drink water when one is asleep and thus eventually creates enough awareness of the self to initiate waking as the majority of dreams are designed to do in the last segment. Despite the pretense of “interpretation” by people who do not understand what dreams are (which includes the majority in my experience, even “experts”), dreams are inherently biologically designed to wake a person up and attend to environmental or biological needs (such as an unknown noise or a need to use the bathroom or to drink water), which is the most important neural process that exists. This does not mean they do not sometimes have other layers, such as prescience, transpersonal communication (which most people do not even believe in despite overwhelming evidence), deliberate lucid rendering, and “practice” events.

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Morning of October 17, 2016. Monday.



The time seems to be early afternoon in all the outdoor scenes. In the first scene I am in our residence but I am not sure where it is implied to be. Our youngest son Oliver has a large terrarium that extends from floor to ceiling though it looks like an aviary. It is directly in the corner of the left side of the room, about two and a half feet square. He seems cheerful. Zsuzsanna is concerned about him seeing the turtle he had brought home the day before. I look in and notice that the turtle seems propped against the back of the cage on the right. It is on its right side and a bite had seemingly been taken out of it, shell and all, probably by another animal in the cage. I am not sure what to do with it but Oliver does not notice.

My attention falls on weird animals in the cage. There are a few spiders with black disk-like bodies, the bodies of which are almost as big as my fist, though their legs are nearly three feet long. The legs are thin and closely paired so that it looks like they have four legs instead of eight. One seems positioned head down, its legs on two different large branches so that I mostly view it from the top of its body. I look to the right side and notice that the cage, at least on that side, is designed more like the front of a jail cell with the bars sparse enough for any of the animals to easily leave the cage. The side facing me does not seem of this appearance. I comment on how they could get out, but it does not bother me that much.

In the second scene, the personified preconscious appears as an unknown male of about my age and is presently sitting in another area of the room, though does not yet attain a more dominant presence. I watch three mole crickets crawling about on a pillow. Two are their natural color but the smallest of the three, in the middle, is pure white. I reflect on the idea of them possibly crawling on a person in their sleep, but there is not that much concern. A mole cricket is a tertiary dream sign that symbolizes going deeper into sleep in real-time, two of them symbolizing Zsuzsanna and I but the white one in the middle representing moon induction (circadian rhythms factor) and shared dreaming on the spiritual level as analogous to the Blue Pearl event (inviolable telepathy between soulmates, specifically twin flames as Zsuzsanna and I are).

The personified preconscious points to an unrealistically large detached crab spider head facing us from the right side of a pillow across the room on a bed perpendicular to the bed I had been looking at near the center of the room. “Something should be done about that head on the pillow,” he says. Despite this incredibly obvious dream sign of him directly exposing his role as the personified preconscious, my dream self remains completely clueless and no lucidity is triggered.

In the next scene, we end up in a small dimly lit room which has the essence of liminal space (even though I am not near waking yet). He sits on a wooden chair while I seem to sit cross-legged on the floor. I am facing him as he talks about money but he seems sarcastic about a certain business I do not know the name of (although he had apparently said it a few times but my dream self remains unaware of some of what he says). He seems to mimic advertisements and promotional gimmicks. “Make lots of money,” he says, mocking the original supposed speaker and waving his arms around seemingly in frustration. “Have you heard of Amway?” I ask him after watching and listening to his routine for several minutes. He glares at me as if I am unbelievably stupid and had not heard a word he had said, as Amway is apparently what he had been talking about all that time. I feel embarrassed but try to explain that I had heard him, though my pretense is not very convincing.

In the next scene I find myself near an intersection having apparently mowed our front lawn recently. My (fictional) house is on the street that is perpendicular from where I am standing near a bus stop. I contemplate how I have to mow this whole area, but after a short time, I realize that it is not my responsibility and the city council will do it at a later date. Despite being near the bus stop, I am not interested in (subliminally) shifting consciousness. However, five young people get off. They do not regard me at this time.

Despite my cursory faux memory and brief acknowledgement of my dream house (which seems vaguely based on the Loomis Street house though the rest of the area is not as such), I soon go into the backyard of our present house, though the gate is on the wrong side; at the north end of the fence near the southwest corner of our house instead of the south end near the northwest corner of our shed. A young unfamiliar black woman, who seems to be a teacher, is there with Zsuzsanna. Zsuzsanna has seemingly been given something that was stealthily taken from the personified preconscious. It seems conspiratorial. There are apparently two batches of mail-order pills. I take the two packages from Zsuzsanna’s left hand. One of them is a C4 manila envelope (yellow) padded with bubble-wrap and the other is a white C8 envelope with lesser bubble wrap. I open the larger package to find that it contains several cylindrical prescription bottles of pills of some kind. (None of us take prescription pills in real life.) There is also a receipt. I look at it and read it closely. “These pills cost eighty-six dollars a fortnight,” I say, seeing the total price listed as $86.00 under $79.95 and the shipping and handling fee of $6.05. “It's eighty-six.”

I fail to recall that eighty-six is the number implemented when the personified preconscious gives up on my non-lucid dream self (having “eighty-sixed me”), thus no coalescence, implicit or not, at the waking stage. This is validated by the fact it comes in the mail, which represents communication between dream self and whole conscious self identity.

The preconscious essence flows into the five children (and I do not focus on the fact that we have five children although these children are unfamiliar) who had gotten off the bus earlier and so naturally they approach our home to impose upon us to try to get me to either wake or become lucid. Zsuzsanna and I are sitting on chairs outside of our fence, our backs to it, our youngest daughter and youngest son sitting between us (which is not something we had ever actually done). A boy somehow throws a large mattress fairly high into the air above our heads (probably subliminally associated with our youngest son now sleeping on the top bunk of a bunk bed), but it misses us in coming down, landing immediately to Zsuzsanna’s right. I get the impression that he had been trying to throw the mattress over our fence (beyond liminal space and out of the immediate level of consciousness). I still do not grasp such an obvious dream sign. “Are you trying to kill someone…such as a baby?” I yell angrily at the boy.

The entire orientation soon changes without a clue on my part. We are now all in our backyard on our side of the fence yet the five children (who must have teleported with us) are now leaving through the gate, the boy somehow carrying the mattress again (which does not at all resolve logically from a conscious viewpoint since he is seemingly carrying it on his right side as he would a textbook). I am so angry that I decide to follow them. As soon as I step outside of the gate, my consciousness shifts into the waking stage and I realize I had been had.

Morning of June 11, 2016. Saturday.



In my dream, where I seem to somehow be a different person or character yet still feel like myself in most ways, I am an individual who has traveled around extensively and I am also seemingly a hunter in the manner of Sam and Dean Winchester from the “Supernatural” television series. I am aware that they have been called in to face the most difficult “monster” that they had ever dealt with. This creature is supposedly impossible to kill but can be subdued for a time until it rises again. It is kept in a cage on an isolated property (I assume in America, possibly Ohio) reachable by an old back road. Sam and Dean are on the scene.

I meet with them to help them at the location where the creature is presently sleeping in a cage though supposedly about to rise and kill a number of people. They seem hesitant at first but then are totally okay with me being there and both are receptive of my authority and apparent advanced skills (though on one level I know that this is pretense and that I am “creating everything under my will” even though I am not at all lucid in any way, as this is a state of awareness that I have experienced thousands of times in dream states since earliest memory).

I tell them that I know James (although I actually mean Bobby Singer), having gained much experience from him, and they seem to understand and are happy with it.

We are preparing for the upcoming battle as we are told by the owner of the property that the monster is stirring. It is apparently some sort of anthropomorphic white stork (with fur as well as feathers) with deadly far-reaching supernatural powers. We are told to get some weapons. These “weapons” turn out to be large pillow-like hessian sandbags (obvious dream sign) filled with some sort of magical concoction to help put the beast back to sleep (another obvious situational concurrent dream sign). These “pillows” which are aligned along the fence (concurrent liminal space symbol), some slightly buried (implied to be at a deeper level of concurrent awareness within the dream state), are taken out by us. I also see a few barbells in the dirt but decide we may not need these.

We go into the house and one side of a large room is like a jail. The monster is inside but starting to move around. At first it looks like a white-furred Bigfoot but it eventually becomes somewhat of an anthropomorphic stork. This stork creature is ready to attack (even though it is in the cage).

The owner of the residence opens the cage door and we go in. Sam and Dean Winchester start hitting this creature with the “pillows” as hard as they can. Powder flies through the air but not enough to lower the visibility of the scene by that much. I join in and also whack this “stork-monster” (of human height) with my “pillow”. It seems to remain dazed and never fully stands up at any point. Sam, Dean, and I soon leave this “cage” and start talking in the other area of the room with the owner.

Soon however, the creature is active again but now appears totally human; a dark-haired female of perhaps thirty. Her hands are raised up and out in mimicry of a spider or martial arts position and she is apparently a powerful destructive witch. As I stare her down, my dream becomes more and more vivid and intense. Orange lightning (conscious mind symbol) comes from her hands and her hair stands up, but I am also able to raise my own hands in defense. Simply by holding my gaze and moving my hands out and around a bit, she eventually falls back and is defeated for another cycle.

“Awesome,” says Dean as Sam smiles and nods in my direction, both from my left (even though a “witch” like me would not be liked by them in the actual television series).

After this, we all get in a car. Dean drives though Sam sits in the back seat (on my right) in Speedo swimwear. He is singing some sort of song and using words like “Speedo”, “Guido”, and “Buido” and Dean looks back at him as if greatly annoyed.

To those who understand dreams and their nature (though there are various types), this is a surreal but typical sleeping, dreaming, and waking adventure all in metaphor. Nothing could be more obvious than that than slapping a white bird with a pillow to put it to sleep (especially when inside a cage or jail which represents restricting the energies of the preconscious state). The white bird is a moon (dream induction) sign, a typical concurrent consciousness displacement symbol, and this entire series of dream events is a metaphor for circadian rhythms and the waking transition as is often the case.

The clever references in the song seem at least partly related to trolls on the Internet, unfortunately (which is something that in all honesty is pointless to dream about as nothing can really be done about them). “Guido” is a possible play on “Guido van Helten” which in turn is a play on VonHelton, the bizarre narcissistic YouTube troll, who is possibly one of the strangest personas and crazed individuals on the Internet. “Buido” apparently has various associations. However, in Spanish, it mostly seems to be a reference to something that is corrugated, fluted, or sharp. It is associated with “puntiagudo” (“pointed”) or “con punta aguda” (“with a sharp point”), which is obviously a play on my birthplace of “Punta Gorda” (or “Fat Point” in describing the shape of the region), which is a dream reference to returning to who I really am in whole consciousness, as a sort of “rebirth”.

Morning of February 5, 2016. Friday.

Dream #: 17,945-05. Reading time: 2 min 12 sec.



I communicate with unknown people. Some of them are arrangements of objects that are not in one cluster, but I still perceive them in human form at times. A table lamp on the floor, books in a bookshelf, and a table leg may equate one person. Even though they seem sentient, an unfamiliar female thinks this type of supposed human is without life and does not have the same rights or ability to communicate.

I quickly climb an unusual structure (vestibular system adaptation). I am atop a big cage. At this level, open enclosures are on each side with spaces from them. Beyond the gap on one side at ground level, is an oversized leopard. Its oblong spots are longer than on a real leopard and its coat more of a brownish tint. I have a concern it could jump up to get to me, and it does. I bite the back of its neck and push it off the top of the cage. As it goes tumbling off, it bounces into another big wild cat which makes it angry. That one also jumps up to eat me. I bite it and throw it off backward.

Two big wild cats come up, one from each side (through each gap on each side). The one on my left seems like a tiger. I somehow bite both of them on the back of the neck in a short time and push them off. I do not seem to injure any of them.

I become part of an experiment using changes in DNA to make the test subjects more like prehistoric people. I am in a big mostly featureless field (at least one end with only high grass) in a rectangular fenced-in area. The others are all men and women who look like cave people from a cheaply made movie. They seem almost like modern humans on one level in that they remind me of a group of businessmen and secretaries. They want to pretend to have a business office even in this unusual setting requiring hunting and survival skills. For this and other reasons, the group annoys me. I pretend that I am “more primitive” than them by growling like an animal. I decide I will have no part of the controlled experiment or whatever it is and go to the opposite side of the fenced-in area where there is a big tree (the only shelter in the area) as well as different food plants. Meanwhile, I keep throwing long spears (which seem to come out of nowhere) at the group. I throw them like daggers, and they spin horizontally like helicopter rotors before reaching their target, either their neck or chest. (That is impossible as the spearhead would hit from its side not suddenly go forward into the target.)

There are about half (five or six people) of the group left. I plan on living on this side where the big tree is. There are a few animals, including a saber-tooth tiger resting in the shade of the tree. I am not threatened by it. It seems more natural and right than trying to live with the group. (They stay on the featureless side of the fenced-in area away from food and shelter.) I sense I will be the only one to survive.

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Morning of May 4, 2014. Sunday.



We end up with a baby bird that had fallen out of a nest in a nearby area of the yard of the house we live in presently. I think it is a wild finch. It is very small and cannot quite walk properly (and it seems injured at first, though turns out not to be - just being a bit weak). I have a large container with no top that is somewhat like a semitransparent plastic storage box, but which is about two-thirds the size of the top of my computer desk. The bottom of the container has about a one-inch (or more) layer of dirt.

Over time, the bird begins to move a little more. For some reason, we decide the best thing to feed it to ensure its survival are very tiny pieces of rubber cut from a bicycle inner tube, as if that makes perfect sense. It also seems to be all we have regarding “bird food”. It seems to be “happy” about getting the tiny inner tube pieces and eats all that I give it.

A little later, I decide that crackers will probably be better, though I am thinking about all the preservatives and wondering if they will be harmful to birds in general, yet somehow, it eventually seems okay, and does seem a better option than the rubber bits (and less troublesome and time-consuming to provide) - so I break up a few crackers into fine crumbs (to my left relative to the container) and it enthusiastically feeds.

Finally, I crunch up a stack of Pringles potato chips and scatter them in a larger area to the right. However, there are still a lot of nearly whole pieces that go into the makeshift terrarium and the baby bird looks a bit bigger and more developed, even moving its recently feathered wings about as it hops a bit more energetically. (For some reason, its wings look like they are on “backwards” but I think this may be only because of the downy feathers curled back.) It is able to bite into the potato chips and easily feed without any help from me, reminding me of a person holding up and taking a bite out of a large sandwich. I figure about half a cylinder of the chips will keep him going for at least a day or two. It goes under a chip and out again, seeming to enjoy its access to its food and it is becoming stronger, reminding me a little of a guinea pig moving about in a large, cage-sized cluster of grass and getting “happily lost” in it.

For a time, I worry about leaving it, because I am concerned it will get trapped under some sections of scattered clusters of the more complete chips, but the scene does not seem that problematic for it. It goes under a whole chip and does not come out for a time and that seems my cue to wake as it seems to no longer exist at that point.

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Morning of September 13, 2013. Friday. (Wife’s birthday.)



I am much younger, perhaps twenty, living in an unfamiliar building. It may be that I share the building and have my own smaller apartment but it does seem like my own home. My main bedroom seems to be to the west of the main area (or largest rooms) of the building. To the north is a larger window, and near it, a desk upon which sits an electronic keyboard. My bed is to the left of the window. To the right of the window, against the east wall, is a large and supposedly ancient “two-storey” cage (the second tier was seemingly added much later as an extra precaution). This cage (big enough for perhaps two or three people to fit in) has two layers of “protection” around it; the thick window-screen-like wire (though a bit more sparse, about one inch by one inch) and outside of that, strong glass. Both “layers” have a sliding door on the left side of it. (I am not sure if the top tier of the hutch opens or has a door of any kind.) The layout and “memory” seems vaguely like our apartment from Gellibrand Street in Clayfield - Brisbane.

The top level of the cage is mostly empty, but does have some fresh grass. I do not notice any animals. I look closely at the bottom level, through the glass, and note movement at times. I slide the glass partly open after I think I see some sort of ancient being’s face; somewhat human, but not quite. I am not fully lucid, but it is like I am trying to bring forth an “ancient magic”. With the glass sliding door open, I can now hear wind and a slight buzzing and humming. Time passes, and I notice miniature quetzals, perhaps as many as twenty, fluttering around in spirals, no bigger than a hummingbird. I also notice phosphorescent moths. Looking more closely, I begin to sense an intense “ancient” power, windy and electrical, emanating from the cage. There are various invisible insects of some kind, likely some sort of prehistoric tiny gnat, that form different magnetic “signatures” to set certain things in motion, as a sort of creative power. The hutch seems to hold all the mystery of time and space in one small area. The grass inside that section is like very old straw and there are also stones here and there.

I listen to the wind and buzzing and feel the powerful currents of air through the wire section. Rather foolishly I open the wire and wooden sliding door, perhaps for the first time in hundreds of years. It was the only thing keeping in whatever was there for so long. I feel an intense energy and pleasure. I feel like I want to learn more (with some sort of ritual), but I do not have any sort of book and no poetry or incantation comes to mind that I think might be needed under the circumstances.

Later, there are two (unknown) girls in a room east of where I had been. I follow what appears to be some of the “creatures” from the cage, especially the beautiful miniature quetzals. The girls look at me and smile. Another girl appears for a short time. I then discover I had a third daughter I had somehow never known about who is between the ages of my second-youngest son and oldest daughter. She is now about or almost fourteen. I am glad to finally meet her. I suppose she had been ill for a long time, or made sick by ordinary humans, so is only now “coming to life” to get out and do more. I do not remember my wife having an additional baby during the supposed “missing time” in my dream, but I feel very thankful. She and my wife are going out to the park, I think, with the rest of the family, and later - shopping. She is very happy to finally meet me. I notice that there are small stones under the skin of her face, on each side of her mouth and going down her chin to her neck, forming a DNA pattern, and do not think it to be unusual. It may be some sort of acne, I reason, or she may have the stones there as a personal tribal belief. Her name, strangely enough, is Mastermind (a game my wife played often at that age), a name that I do not see as too unusual, just a bit different than “average”. She also has two middle names like all our offspring, but I do not fully recall those.

“They all got out,” I tell the two other girls, speaking of the birds and the moths. They look at me and then each other as if they are acknowledging a private joke with their facial expressions. I start to take them on a tour of the place. I point to what I first think are the magical birds flying about. I then see the butterflies/moths. However, it turns out to be the intricate attractive design of wallpaper instead. The girls giggle (either at my mistake or at the fact it magically did change before my eyes). I then look around and notice about seven miniature quetzals flying in a linear pattern. I reach out to touch them. I see that they are actually refrigerator magnets. The girls giggle again. I feel rather stupid as if I had seen a “UFO” and it turned out to be a flashlight.

This is where they become “ancient trees” and wrap around me in “creaking” spirals, buzzing, and wind, “ancient” powerful humming from the “source”. My dream “resets”.

A little later, I am back near the cage. I had been aware of an ancient (thousands of years old) “living face” attempting to make contact with me. After a time, I notice a young male of about twenty, who seems to have emerged from the cage as some sort of “wizard” within the prior twenty minutes of my dream or so. He stands across the room from me, closer to the entryway of the room to the south, looking about as if “new” to the modern world. Two other people show up (unknown or perhaps older classmates from years back).

He starts to complain about “all those years” (while in the cage) that he had to listen to me playing the accordion (including when I was a child growing up) and organ (but mostly the accordion seems to give him grief). I then see that he has some sort of “magic wand” which is like an old branch (which I remember seeing in the hutch). The accordion has always been the most beautiful-sounding musical instrument to me, and so I then assume this person must be mentally ill and thus has no powers whatsoever, especially as he seems to be enjoying some badly out-of-tune (“detuned”) modern gated synth music. He raises his magic wand to “zap” me (and even “erase” me from existence - the thanks I get for letting him out I guess) - the loud/soft gating of the detuned synth (from a radio in another room or from one being carried by one of the two new people?) seems to literally be shutting his consciousness off and on for a time so that his mind is “gone” or in no stable, focused, or fixed state - and so I really do not expect anything at all to happen. In fact, I feel sorry for him, and I just stand there gawking in disbelief as this “magician” (now wearing a hospital gown) waves his wand around. It turns out that he was a mental patient from a psychiatric ward who had escaped from a local hospital and somehow crawled into our house from an open window and was still “playing magician” as he had been doing with other patients at the ward. The two newer people lead him away as he mumbles, swaying a bit, heading back to the hospital.

I later am near the desk, thinking about putting the electronic keyboard away for a time and playing an accordion again for the first time in years, not even to record, just to enjoy in solitude (I sometimes played the accordion or an organ for hours in complete darkness many years ago - I learned later that, when I played during the day, older people sometimes came out to sit outside and listen during those times - even bringing a living room chair out to sit on). The two girls are “normal” again. I turn around and say, “I thought he came from the cage…at first”.

My hands are “warping” into joined “flexible stones” (that seem to be “speaking” softly or humming with various changing tones and dynamics in a musical sense), feathers, multicolored exposed “bones” and “spines”/“quills” (seven or eight fingers on each hand, moving out almost like accordion bellows with a suggestion of being webbed) and DNA-like swirls whereby small comet-shaped glowing “orbs” rapidly “swim” around the DNA “map”/“grid” like a complex “network” of “trains” of light (an effect I have clearly seen on my arms and hands all my life - to the point where I would gaze at my arms and hands in the dark for fifteen or more minutes at a time - often, one would suddenly become brighter and then vanish completely, exactly like a dying ember - since I have never read about anyone else experiencing this - it is just one more puzzle for me). I breathe softly.

The girl whispers, “you were in the cage (saying my name lovingly)…you are the source…” I then see that my own face is made of a mix of stone and “buzzing” wind and that there was an ancient mirror (of polished stone?) sitting in one corner of the cage - I had been (seemingly) looking at myself from outside the cage.

Ehecatl-Quetzalcoatl seems the main force or character in this dream. Ehecatl is a pre-Columbian deity associated with the wind, who features in Aztec mythology and the mythologies of other cultures from the central Mexico region of Mesoamerica. He is most usually interpreted as the aspect of the Feathered Serpent deity (Quetzalcoatl in Aztec and other Nahua cultures) as a god of wind, and is therefore also known as Ehecatl-Quetzalcoatl. Ehecatl also figures prominently as one of the creator gods and culture heroes in the mythical creation accounts documented for pre-Columbian central Mexican cultures. Mexico inches closer to loan of Moctezuma’s headdress

“Ehecatl” is very slightly like “Ethel”, my mother’s name. The two levels of the cage likely represented my conscious self (smaller, top level) over my dream self’s “mind”, while holding the power of the supraconscious (“source”).

Wind, however, has been established in my dreams (including precognitive ones) as a reference to the passage of time.

The combined failed magician/fool character in this particular dream (a character I have noted in past dreams) is commonly how I really “see” consensus at times and do not consider it a direct aspect or symbol of real mental health. Also, as I was growing up, watching magicians usually annoyed me (especially as I knew most aspects of all the tricks from various older books published in the 1800s as well as the obvious) - so I presently associate magicians with: lying, boredom, pointless actions, con men, and gossip.

Another dream relating to the quetzal being associated with the “source”: Soul’s Union of the Quetzal and the Silver Sebright Bantam. This dream was one of the most vivid dreams of my lifetime, as well as being astoundingly multilayered and literally precise in a precognitive sense.

This dream is also similar in the sense of mirror/self realization as a much older dream - Beyond the Martian Time Barrier.

Other references to aspects of stones, “buzzing”, wind, and birds have been noted in previous entries and I will update them as I get to them. These stones are like “power objects” in the supposed Nahua sense and relative to the belief of objects in the environment influencing human behavior. When these things (usually stones, in one, an owl statue) appear in dreams, they are extremely heavy, create a sort of “buzz” or “hum” and sometimes seem to manifest wind as a magnetic force of some sort, a possible additional play on magnet and magic.

Age 11. Morning of November 4, 1972. Saturday. About 8:00 a.m.

Dream #: 2,147-07. Reading time (optimized): 2 min.



My emerging consciousness and waking-life identity exist, but I am still dreaming, though I correctly recognize the location of my body as being in bed in my Cubitis home. It is morning.

An airplane flies over the area, its flight path and linear distance from the front of our house (though as high in the sky) correlating with my school bus route. (I am aware of this correlation as I dream, though it is Saturday. I had let go of my expectation of attending school.) I see the airplane’s underside as it flies from north to south.

A cage falls from the airplane, though moving slightly east as it falls so that it lands in our front yard about ten feet from my windows. (I vaguely consider it a gift from my dream girl, though possibly a mistaken delivery which replaced my gift with someone else’s). Inside the cage is the Warner Brothers cartoon character, the Tasmanian devil, though he is Pepto-Bismol pink. He seems about my height. He does not make any attempt to escape. I do not perceive him as a threat to me, despite his behavior (like exercising his mouth and waving his arms). I awake with a sense of amusement.

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“Something coming down” is a prevalent dream event as a result of vestibular cortex arousal during the waking process. Associations with flight occur throughout every sleep cycle as a result of my lack of physicality. This status also results in the rendering of a cage in this instance that represents my emerging awareness of how I cannot move my physical body as I sleep.

The Tasmanian devil, as the cortical arousal simulacrum, represents a visual association and expectation. I often woke around this time to watch “The Bugs Bunny Show.” There are influences from “Devil May Hare” and “Bedevilled Rabbit.” (In some cases, a tornado would represent the process, though it is important to note the Tasmanian devil cartoon character travels about in a miniature tornado.)

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On a personal spiritual level, I saw a Tasmanian devil at a zoo not long after I met Zsuzsanna (my dream girl). I had traveled to Australia by airplane. I only include this because of the correlations. For example, “When Worlds Collide” (1951) had aired the night before (November 3, 1972, though I had chosen to watch “The Valley of Gwangi” again as it was on at the same time). “When Worlds Collide” was the chief influence of my dream “The Pink Planet” from November 6, 1971. It had aired the night before in that case as well. In that dream, a Pepto-Bismol pink twin version of Earth was coming in view as I looked up to see Australia. In my “Wild Weasel” dream from 1969, a “real” Tasmanian devil (called a “weasel” as I did not know what real Tasmanian devils looked like at the time) traveled in a small tornado, and Brenda (validated stand-in for Zsuzsanna) and I hid from it as it remained beyond a frosted glass door (wall mediation).

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