Blue_Opossum

Morning of November 29, 2017. Wednesday.

Dream #: 18,608-02. Reading time (optimized): 2 min.



In the first part of a two-part dream, I indulge in realistic exercises, including jumping jacks. Unknown people are present but not in the room where I exercise. I wave my arms about and perform boxing motions. I feel strong and energized. I do not become tired despite the intensity of my movements. There is an extraordinary degree of imaginary physicality and momentum. I will compete in the Olympics in a few days. I say I will participate in the javelin throw. (It seems a participant can choose what they want to do.) I consider it might not be a part of the Olympics.

I become a time-traveling angel in the backyard of the Loomis Street house. My dream self has no recall of my relatives ever living here. The actor, Jonathan LaPaglia, from “Seven Days” (the television series about time travel) lives here. My dream self perceives him as an ordinary person, with no recall of either his real identity or any of his roles.

A scenario involves his neighbors offering him to put his extra junk across the alley where they put theirs. Both piles include damaged plastic toys (the kind we recently discarded in real life). Curiously, our real-life neighbor to the south, on the other side of our fence, is living just north of the Loomis Street house. It is intriguing how he is one of the only factors of waking-life recall and how he is here in an American setting I have not seen since February 1994.

I was reading a paperback book about Jonathan and Callie, whom he had been in a relationship with for years but had never married or lived with her. I read he will miss out on having a life with her. He eventually accepts I am from the future but finds the situation amusing. (Callie Torres from “Grey’s Anatomy" is an association. Sara Ramirez, the actress who plays her, was born August 31, like Jonathan.)

To change his destiny, he needs to go to a public area where she is with a bodybuilder. He misses his opportunity, but he can still go to her residence. We walk westerly through a version of Sill Street and near Kane Street to a strange house with two adjacent apartments but remain in the main entrance. We never see her.

An unfamiliar couple (though not tenants, as another unknown woman lives in the left apartment while Callie lives on the right), ask me who I am. “I’m a person,” I say, so as not to reveal I am an angel.

They pull me to the ground without violence and seem happy as if they think I will grant them wishes as a result. I teleport, and they drop to the ground. I stand on an elevated area, noting their surprised reaction with amusement.

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Jonathan LaPaglia reminds me of our landlord, who said we could use the bins at his nearby unrented property for additional items that were destroyed in the storm that tore our roof off.

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Morning of February 7, 2017. Tuesday.



I become intensely aware and feel cheerful, though I am not lucid, during what seems to be the last stages of someone leaving an area that he had been caught trespassing in late at night. I am not regarded by any of the characters in this situation even though I am fully physically present. The owner of the land remains at the rear of a guard’s large building, giving warnings to the other male who had trespassed. This other male however, is now with a guard at the front of the building. I watch him and the guard through the window from outside (on the left side of the building when looking at the front). Each time that the owner of the property shouts something at the trespassing male, the trespassing male then “interprets” and relays to the guard (on his left and not close enough to the window to hear the owner) what the other male had supposedly said.

The property owner loudly informs the other male that a helicopter will be coming with people to arrest him. He will also be fined a large sum of money; at least a thousand dollars. He gives a number of minor details. This results in the guard being told (by the trespassing male) that a helicopter will be coming to take the trespasser to his home and that someone will bring money to give him (rather than him being fined). Everything the property owner shouts is changed by the other male to become a beneficial event for him. The guard does not realize this at all and writes down the instructions on a notepad. Even though the situation is hilarious, I am only mildly amused.

I turn around to see an amazingly beautiful beach and nighttime scene. I walk towards it, thinking that I might take a helicopter from an island not that far from shore (which I may be able to walk to because of sandbars). I notice an orange beacon in the center of the island. There also appears to be a park shelter or some sort of small utility building on each corner of the island.

Still, once I am on the beach itself, my perception and clarity becomes extreme. The scene is so beautiful and blissful, I become distracted and forget that I had been thinking about getting on a helicopter or going to the small island.

I notice two sandbars just off the beach. I go to the closest one and roll around and slide with the incoming waves in the wonderful cool water and white sand. Two other people, an unknown male and female, are also enjoying themselves. I first think that they may be playing with some sort of sea creature such as a dolphin or octopus, but this is not the case. As I walk past them, I am somewhat annoyed. I would like to enjoy the beach more without strangers around.

I see a large park shelter. There are three pairs of picnic tables, each pair touching end to end and the ends perpendicular to the front opening of the shelter. Two couples sit at opposite sides of the building. I walk in from the right side, having enjoyed being barefoot in the cool water and sand, but I soon notice a lot of crumpled empty packages from vending machine products and other rubbish strewn on the floor. There is a puddle and it looks like someone had even peed near one wall.

I decide not to go fully into the park shelter and absentmindedly say aloud, “this is a real pee place”. The other male in the water looks up and asks me what I said. “It’s a pist-place!” I say.

“You can’t expect people not to take their stuff out to enjoy nature,” says the male (which also seems to mean that he thinks it is okay to throw trash everywhere as well as put various recreational junk on an otherwise isolated pristine beach). As he says this, I notice an equidistant series of small yellow cube-shaped plastic boxes across the front of the park shelter (which I am certain were not there moments earlier), each overflowing with various items. Some of the items are for sports and recreation on the beach.

“I prefer water, sand, and rocks to this junk,” I say. I start to become really annoyed and kick an oversized green Monopoly house (about the size of a football) from the top of the contents of one of the boxes as it flies at the other male, almost hitting his head. I kick a couple of the small storage boxes, also missing him. I then decide to kick him directly in the head with my right foot.

Just as I somehow lift my foot high enough to kick his head, I wake up with my right leg thrashing out like a real kick (while on my left side). (Thankfully, I did not kick anyone or anything in reality.)

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• A beach in a dream is liminal space autosymbolism, a typically heightened stage between sleeping and waking, similar to bridges, parking lots, and porches, all of which represent a liminal link between the dream self and conscious self identity during the dreaming and waking process. I usually become much more aware in liminal space (especially as it links directly to the waking transition and emergent consciousness factor). In this case, I was only one step down from ordinary lucidity and at the highest level of (non-lucid) liminal dream state awareness, with full-body awareness.
• The first situation in my dream is some sort of comedic transmuted “return flight” precursor where another male takes on my dream self’s role. (I never actually see a helicopter and my dream is altered into a sustained increased awareness rather than ending here as it should which is likely why the waking prompt was more extreme than usual.) From here, I deliberately sustain my dream without lucidity and even the personified preconscious element shifts to another scene (not that common). Water and its dynamics symbolizes sleep in real time, which is how I am able to additionally sustain my dream by focusing on the beauty of the beach and ocean (known as reinduction). The fact it is nighttime is a circadian rhythms factor of the deeper unconscious (which delays the emergent consciousness factor).
• A waking prompt is a biological necessity, typically brought on by the dream self or something else falling, flying, collapsing, rising, and so on. In this case, my hypnic jerk actually seemed changed into a semi-conscious act, as if I knew I had to do this to fully wake (and as usual, the personified preconscious was the focus of instigation).

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Morning of August 7, 2015. Friday.



I will try to refrain from another titular trend (such as “or not” in this case).

In my dream, I am once again on Loomis Street at my sister (deceased) Marilyn’s house. It seems to be early afternoon. My wife Zsuzsanna is with me at the house.

An unknown person (a young female in a jogging outfit, jogging southward) comes by our house and leaves a huge computer motherboard on our front sidewalk for some reason (just giving it to us, or perhaps thinking of our front yard as a dumping ground - this is not certain). The motherboard is about eight times the size of a real one. I am not sure what to do with it as it is older technology and I would likely have no use for it.

As I am wondering what to do with this junk, as it remains lying across our front sidewalk, along comes an (unknown and unfamiliar) older male that takes notice to it. A few other (unknown) people also crowd around for a short time. He asks me if he can look at it and I say yes (though I had not even looked at it). On one corner (upper left from my view), he takes notice to a particular chip which is apparently a bit newer than the motherboard itself. He asks me if he can buy it (the one single chip) for twenty dollars. This sounds very good to me and I feel quite cheerful upon hearing this. As I did not pay any money and someone else had just dropped it off for whatever reason, twenty dollars sounds good even if I give him the entire board, which I am thinking of telling him.

As the motherboard is lowered to the ground I notice at least six jars of peanut butter attached to it in a line over the top, each about two jar spaces apart, which seem to serve as some sort of conduit (or perhaps even additional power source). After several minutes pass, the male stands with his chin in hand gazing at the motherboard. He eventually looks at the chip again and tells me that the serial number on it is one day off from the chip he was looking for. This makes no sense to me as it is not relevant to specific timing of movement (such as with two cassette decks that are most usable when the model is identical, as the capstan is the same speed, or otherwise the variation would be too extreme for dubbing or oversampling).

He looks at me and seriously states “I’m not paying twenty dollars for that!” as if I was the one that told him that he should give me the money for it. I then tell him that he can just take what he wants, including the whole motherboard itself. I come to the conclusion that he is just “off his rocker” and do not say anything after this. The scene vaguely reminds me of one years ago when a very drunken male bought one of my father’s old tools (and I could tell he had no idea what it was, which was a very specialized large drill extension and I even asked him if he was sure he had use for it) and he dropped it on his foot and blamed me for dropping it. I am surprised he even managed to walk from the area. (My father had made a lot of sidewalk sections in addition to building public utilities and residential work in both La Crosse and Arcadia during the same period he was on the radio and local venues.)

This dream was precognitive (in some ways) of a message I received from a former member of one dream journal site, but I will not get into the specifics at this time. I can say that peanut butter often represents human waste in certain types of dream scenarios. The jars of peanut butter on the motherboard are a reference to what was said in a message about grooming and trolling on the Internet.

Morning of April 11, 2015. Saturday.



Not much happens here. There is a pile of miscellaneous items on the bed, including handheld computer games, books (including board books for toddlers), a few small items of clothing, a few DVDs, and random toys - near the center, though not causing a problem for me as I am resting on the bed. I seem to have my eyes closed at times and yet can still search through the small pile, sometimes with my mind alone (without moving anything). Over time, the pile seems to change slightly as certain items appear or vanish. I am not even exactly sure what I am looking for, perhaps a particular book as I seem to remember a focus on a particular title which I do not remember. There is an abstract sequence where it almost seems relevant to what I am thinking; that is, I think of something not quite defined (such as an idea or phrase rather than an actual object), and it materializes but does not stay on the pile that long. Some of the items are actually completely abstract and hard to describe, sometimes with the property of being intangible and slowly sinking through other objects.

My dream becomes clearer before it ends, but only includes a scene where an unknown female brings her daughter into the room, declaring her to be “iconoclastic”, which I am not sure of the meaning of in-dream. I think about the possible meaning, though am associating incorrectly, as I think of the concept of being goddess-like, though it actually means “criticizing or attacking cherished beliefs or institutions”, though my dream did not seem to have any negative implications or feelings. I have had numerous dreams where words are used or established with wrong or “unintended” meanings, primarily due to the lack of conscious thinking and reasoning skills when unconscious, though, on the other hand, interesting and unique puns are sometimes established.

Morning of August 12, 2002. Monday.



This is a recurring setting with very similar events in numerous other dreams. I am near the ocean and there is a part of the shore that turns off at a corner where there are more rocks in that direction as well as an upward slope. A lot of other people are around. Some people are there to swim or fish in certain areas but I begin to discover cardboard boxes just under the water that are somehow not ruined. This seems to be why I am here although I am surprised by the larger amount. These boxes, some of which are open (and the contents still not damaged in any way) contain books, board games, toys, and other “treasures”.

There are a few other people who apparently make a living gathering the contents of these boxes. I get the impression that parts of the area under the water are not that deep, and the boxes go out for quite a distance. It is not really that much like a dump under the water, though I am sure there is some junk that is not that useful or valuable. I gather several boxes and am interested in going down as far as possible. Perhaps there are more that have been buried under the ocean bottom over time. In a way, I think I am mentally teleporting the “treasures” to another location, likely to where I am living. (Of course, realistically, books under water for very long would be completely ruined.)