Blue_Opossum

Morning of April 7, 2017. Friday.



I am in an unfamiliar apartment (in an unknown location; that is, no idea of the city or country), though it seems to be implied to be John Lennon’s. John Lennon (October 9, 1940-December 8, 1980) is seated near a table opposite the room from me and facing me. There are two unknown males in the room, one on the far left, one on the far right. I feel very good and have an optimistic attitude even though I am uncertain of who these other men are. They have scraggly hair and are of an unusual appearance. There is some conversation, but I do not focus on it that closely.

John Lennon goes over to the area near where I had been though I am now more near the center of the room. He inserts his left hand, up to his wrist, into an unusual recess (which is actually shaped like a hand) that is on the side of his microwave oven. I suppose it is like some sort of security procedure. There is no door on the oven. It seems to have fallen off at some previous time.

A man on the other side of the room seems worried and complains that he can feel the heat. I recall hearing that microwave ovens can be dangerous (especially with the door off), though I do not feel much concern myself. He uses it with the door off to warm up a bowl of something.

Later, there seems to be a normal oven in the room (though the room is not a kitchen), opposite my side, with the microwave now near the back of the normal oven (and facing the opposite direction). I can feel a lot of heat from the normal oven, though it is not uncomfortable.

In the last scene, the four of us walk to a dump (landfill). One of the males is carrying a large stuffed rat, which is somewhat cartoon-like and which is about half the size of a person. The male says he is discarding it because it “doesn’t talk anymore”.

As we are nearing a pile of trash (on our right) which he intends on throwing the stuffed rat onto, the rat says “Are you kidding, I’ve been talking all day”. (No one hears it except me.)

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Morning of November 4, 2013. Monday.



This is one of those environment-influenced dreams and likely has no other associations. My dream is semi-lucid, but I am still “locked into” the events and activities. It starts by someone flushing the toilet (I am in the kitchen when my dream starts), the action of which seems to do something to all the pipes throughout the entire house - causing all the water to stop flowing. The house seems to be some sort of strange variation of the one on Loomis Street, but is not really much like it. There is a clear awareness that all of the pipes are suddenly empty of water, which causes a strange blast of heat to fill all of the pipes, which then appear collectively (especially in the kitchen) like some sort of large element on a stove top. I even hear a sound somewhat like air rushing through the pipes and a slight awareness of furnace sounds.

Somehow being able to see down into the floor, I see all of the pipes glowing red. Eventually, the outside of the house is on fire on the north side and my brother-in-law goes out to try to put it out with the garden hose. The fire is very even and burning horizontally along certain sections. I am not that alarmed (being semi-lucid) but am still concerned about valuable documents being burned up. I notice a few even rows of fire on a bookshelf. (This is very different than a fully lucid dream I had fairly recently, where I had indulged in enjoying the fires in the house and the view of ashes of books and such.) My sister mentions that the fire is spreading everywhere. I use the hose myself and we get most of the fire under control (somehow causing the fires inside to go out at times by spraying the outside of the house, but not fully, and I worry a little about water damage on top of the minimal fire damage thus far if too much is sprayed indoors).

Meanwhile, an unknown person is following another unknown person around down the street (both males), asking him about where he had hid the remains of Saddam Hussein, making references to it being inside a vertical pipe on that street. This dream seems to reflect a phrase my mother used when it was really hot (as it is in real life right now), saying that “this house is an oven”. Again, it seems very relevant as the plumbing pipes throughout the house actually seemed to serve doubly as oven elements for some reason, but it got out of control.

In another, earlier part of my dream (or one that came just before and slowly merged into it) I am traveling by taxi to some sort of unknown area with a wide street and connected parking area that looks like it is mostly made up of businesses, but there is a hint of a park nearby and possibly a large river (Black River in La Crosse?). The driver is a short Hindi man of about thirty. The false history of my dream implies that he had driven me to the same location on a number of different days, but I had only thus far given him one dollar for this particular ride. It seems that the man is somewhat sarcastic about my potential to pay him for his service. I take out a twenty-dollar bill (seeming to have at least a hundred in my wallet) and give it to him and it makes him very surprised and grateful. Of course, in these times in this region, twenty dollars relative to riding in a taxi is hardly anything and likely would not even cover two shorter trips.

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