Blue_Opossum

Morning of August 31, 2017. Thursday.



When I was a toddler, and as a consequence of a long journey being required to get to a hospital (from an isolated cypress swamp), I nearly died (well, I did have an NDE) from loss of blood and almost lost my left hand as the result of an accident of falling from the top of a stool (I loved to climb) across a large piece of a glass mug. However, miraculously, I fully recovered contrary to predictions made by the doctor. Somehow, my brain was wired differently and I did not even go into shock. (I also grew new neural pathways and trained myself to use my hand again, without any help, by the age of four which some had claimed is why my clarity of mind is as it is and why I always remember so many dreams from each sleeping period). Years later, people noted how my scar looked somewhat like a reversed map of Florida, the state I was born in (Zsuzsanna has a similar story, but that is one of many). It is shown partly in the image as such in a photographic flip (though it actually goes around the other side of my wrist from there). When Zsuzsanna and I met, there was also a healing process. (For example, the large hard lump in my left wrist, made up of random bone and tendon, somehow vanished after being that way since I was a toddler. Zsuzsanna’s leaking cartilage in her right knee, another lifelong condition, also no longer existed as such.)

At any rate, in this new dream, I have some sort of smaller medical tape covering my scar in at least two pieces that are perpendicular to each other. I am somewhat puzzled, as I remember my wound but I do not fully recall its status. I seem to be near the age I am now. The tape seems to be coming off, and I am concerned that the wound flaps are not fully integrated into my arm, as parts of my arm seem to open like a purse (as had occurred in another recent dream, though in that case, it was my entire arm).

After a time, I hear music coming out of the holes of my wound, which sounds like odd flute music but vibrating somewhat. The texture of my arm seems somewhat unusual, and it is also as if I am blowing into my scar at one point and playing it to create flute music.

As I am dreaming this, I am awakened by Zsuzsanna - who validated that I had been snoring for awhile. This of course (and I actually did have my mouth near my wrist as such though not as fully as in my dream), along with numerous other experiences, proves to me that the belief about “not being able to dream and snore at the same time” is utter nonsense (as are most beliefs about dreams that are widely published). It may be true for some people, but certainly not for all. (In fact, most ideas about dreams are limited to perhaps only certain individuals assuming any truth at all, for example, people talk about “not remembering dreams”, yet I do all the time, each sleeping period, including hundreds of lucid hypnagogic sequences and with non-lucid dreams, my mind typically automatically decodes their meaning unless prescient.) There have been a number of dreams where my snoring provided a “soundtrack” for my dream, including childhood dreams (including one about a dinosaur, triggered by hearing my own snoring through the veil of sleep) and one as an adult about being pursued by a bear (the sound of the bear being my own snoring).

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Night of June 15, 2014. Sunday.



It is advised that you skip this one if you are the type to get queasy over the words “saliva” or “spit”. You have been warned.

I am in an unfamiliar area in a city, possibly a variation of a part of La Crosse somewhere near Third Street, though it “feels” of east and west orientation. There is someone I do not know who has an owl on her left shoulder and is facing the street. It is possible that it is my sister who died this year - it is not certain - I do not look directly at the person from the front and am on her right side the whole time. It seems to be late morning.

I have some sort of flute (of a golden color but somewhat matte) and am playing a few shorter repetitive melodies and it sounds nice. Eventually, however, there is excess saliva in the instrument which is much more like water that runs out onto the sidewalk, almost going onto the owl but not quite. I am somewhat embarrassed, as there are other people walking around. This happens about three times.

Eventually, my brother-in-law walks out of some sort of business, perhaps a pawn shop, from behind me, to my left. He makes a comment about not having to see someone’s spit (referring to the “water”) on the sidewalk, but is not referring to me, as he thought one of his employees had done it. The person he yells at walks past me, continuing to my right, seemingly to the east.

I ask him if I can help with anything and he points out the curb. I am to fix it up somehow, apparently by removing pieces of grass growing through cracks - and small bits of broken concrete and such. I am not sure, though, but my dream shifts to something quite different. It is something about a classmate (Kenneth W?) going to school for longer hours for some reason. It seems to be the subject of a conversation that is more like telepathy somehow.

I think the flute relates to having heard the “H.R. Pufnstuf” theme a few times recently and having it get “stuck” in my head.

Additional note: Looking back at other dreams that had something unusual or “different” relative to the curb, I believe, for me anyway, that it has something to do with teeth (relative to the whole mouth) and aspects of their present condition, perhaps, as I do have some cavities.