Blue_Opossum

Morning of September 8, 2020. Tuesday.

Dream #: 19,622-02. Reading time: 4 min 18 sec.



I instinctually summon imaginary kinaesthesia to vivify and sustain my dreaming experience. It is crucial to comprehend that this process is not symbolic, interpretable, or influenced by waking life but is a deliberate attempt to become more immersed in my dream. (Summoning imaginary kinaesthesia means instinctually directing the vestibular system ambiguity resulting from the lack of viable discernment of my physical body and its orientation while in dream sleep to favor the inward illusory side of this ambiguity to increase the illusion of movement and momentum. I have indulged in this practice since I was a toddler.)

I am also instinctually aware of Zsuzsanna sleeping close to me on my left. As a result, in my dream, she is sitting on my left in what first seems like a small open train but soon becomes a car on a roller coaster. There are no other roller coaster cars or people. (Meanwhile, Zsuzsanna is dreaming of being on a train, intimating we are in the same stage of dreaming, not necessarily transpersonal as it is a fundamental process.)

My dream vivifies with realistic movement (correlating with my imaginary physicality) as we ride the roller coaster. I see its unusual structures ahead, but I remain unconcerned, and our ride is smooth. The landscape is similar to that along West Avenue North in La Crosse. I realize that the ride will take us to a resort that features a beach. This factor is an instinctual summoning of melatonin mediation. Water exemplifies the illusory essence and nuances of sleep. (Meanwhile, Zsuzsanna continues in the same dreaming stage. However, in her dream, she remains on the train. Rain starts to come in because of a leak in the roof.)

At the unfamiliar resort, the beach is suddenly an indoor feature after the typical indoor-outdoor ambiguity of this dreaming mode begins but favors the indoor factor. It is now more like a big indoor swimming pool. Our oldest son is now with us (even though he did not travel here with us), but he is only about ten years old. (There is no recall of our other four children at this point.) He cheerfully jumps into the water. Several other people are swimming while I sit with my legs hanging over the edge of the pool and sarcastically complain about there being no beach. At this point, because of sustained virtual melatonin mediation, I become aware our son is not resurfacing. I soon see him below the water’s surface and pull him up, and he seems to be unconscious (instinctual awareness I am sleeping). He recovers and complains about a man grabbing him underwater and doing something to his face.

Zsuzsanna, our son, and I walk down a hall as I complain about the place and the man who may have hurt our son. A sleep-wake manager (also the manager of the resort) comes to us with another unknown male and states how he removed a small stick from our son’s nose and also intended to bring him up to the surface. Even so, I am annoyed that such a business would allow debris where people are swimming.

In the next scene, Zsuzsanna, our son, and I are in a small room with windows encompassing three sides and benches attached to three walls. We watch an unrealistically large shark swimming around, though it does not bump the glass or pose a threat. The height of its head is higher than the windows when it is closest. (This scene was directly influenced by “Underwater” from 2020, though in the movie, it was people watching a giant fictitious oceanic creature through a window. Despite the influence, it correlates with precursory liminality that I informally call wall mediation, instinctual awareness of the concurrent division between imaginary dream space and potential waking space.)

At a service counter, I become annoyed when the manager gives us complimentary bowls of ice cream. I knock them to the floor, as I do not want to spend any more time here, and end up leaving on my own with less of my waking-life identity. I climb up the roller coaster and attempt to ride a car back home (mistakenly perceived as Northside La Crosse, where I have not been in waking life since 1994). Even though my dream exponentially vivifies at this point, it also transitions to the emergence side of physicality and kinaesthesia. It now seems I am on a mechanic’s creeper (instead of a roller coaster car) and trying to move through a small wooden tunnel, feet first while on my back. (This type of dream state process occurs when precursory liminality becomes predominant in that I am then liminally aware of my physical body being immobile and beyond my control while sleeping. At this point, I am also instinctually aware of my sleeping position, which is mostly on my back.) I think about the unusual restrictions of the design and consider how men of a bigger size than me could not use the transportation at all. Even so, it seems likely that I will not be able to continue comfortably.

I decide to teleport (with only vague myoclonus). I am suddenly in an unknown outdoor location in Northside La Crosse. Two people are present; an unfamiliar man and a woman (quantum model of Zsuzsanna). I tell the man that I teleported here. He seems puzzled and incredulous. I prove it to him by teleporting about six feet to the left of my present position with the sense of quickly blinking and becoming more aware of the dream state’s essence again. He cheerfully holds up his cell phone to film me in a conspiratorial manner, but I turn so that my face is out of range. I cause his cell phone to stop working. The screen cracks, and it displays what looks like an analogue television on an empty channel.

I explain that whatever I say happens. I summon somatosensory dynamics (to augment my dream self’s sense of touch), but with big diamonds rather than eggs or coins. I open my hand to reveal an unrealistically large diamond that I give to the man. I tell him it is only worth about $30,000.00. Other diamonds appear in my hand. I give the woman one.

In the last scene, she happily approaches me as I am leaving to remind me I had already given her a diamond on a previous day. She opens her hand to show me two large diamonds.

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Morning of December 10, 2018. Monday.

Dream #: 18,984-05. Reading time (optimized): 1 min. Readability score: 75.



I enter another of several vivid dreams of this date. In this event, I maintain most of my conscious self identity in association with my marriage and family. The setting is unknown. My mother is present. My dream self does not recall that she had died in October of 2002 or that she had never been to Australia or met Zsuzsanna or our children in real life.

She had bought two cakes in pans with ice cream covering them. I eat some of the darker cake. Zsuzsanna and our three youngest children are present.

I then go on to eat some of the other “cake” and see that it is now mostly white ice cream that seems to be partially melting. I also notice steam rising from it, and become puzzled. I scoop up and eat a lot of it. Something in the back of my mind makes me question this situation.

I pick up an interesting object from near a corner of the cake pan. It is a beautiful rooster salt shaker in a crowing stance. There was loose salt around it. (I am wondering if this is another dream with gamma-aminobutyric acid autosymbolism or if it represents sweating in the heat.)

I wake as I gaze at the rooster salt shaker and find it curious that a place that sells food would give one out for each purchase.

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Of course, a rooster is autosymbolism for the preconscious function and transition of waking up from sleep. How obvious can it get?

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Morning of May 7, 2017. Sunday.



There is not much going on in this dream other than me having a shower and eating a bowl of ice cream. I am apparently to go out to a public venue with some people, though I do not know who they are. Since water represents the dynamics of sleep (and as such, is my most common dream feature along with fire, and certainly my most common form of induction), it also vivifies my dream state as a result. However, there is no lucidity in this case.

The layout of the bathroom and the rest of the house is unfamiliar though implied to be where we live. Curiously, I shower while putting my clothes on, which seems to be taking a long time.

In the last scene, I am eating a bowl of ice cream. It is mostly vanilla and I enjoy its flavor. I find that I have to keep moving the spoon around the inside of the bowl, as I do not want to waste any of it, yet there is always more. I do not want to be late in going out, but there is no end to the ice cream when I move the spoon around to “finish” the last of it. If my thinking skills were present, I would know that there could not be so much still left each time.

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