Morning of June 9, 2020. Tuesday. Dream #: 19,531-02. Reading time (optimized) 3 min. My dream begins with indoor-outdoor ambiguity. Although I am in an unidentifiable rural park in Wisconsin before dawn, I am first near a wall that holds the essence of a room when my dream self becomes aware. I am listening to a vinyl LP with my thoughts being that I can change the wording of the spoken audio, which seems to be a business missive. It is as if I am editing and clarifying the implied text with my mind even though it is on a 33 1/3rd rpm record. At one point, I see the individual words on small movable virtual cutouts that I can rearrange on the record’s surface. I go to a small teardrop camper caravan a short distance away. (It is similar to the image, but its door faces the trailer hitch, and there are two sliding windows on each side.) I want to lie down inside it to rest, but I have to move several clusters of full beer cans that are on plastic yokes. (I have hardly ever drunk beer in my lifetime.) I eventually clear an area through the middle where my body fits, my head at the back. I open a sliding window a short distance, pulling it to the left, above my left, and appreciate the coolness of the fresh air flowing through the screen. Eventually, the little caravan starts moving. It is daylight now. Looking through the doorway, I see my brother-in-law Bob and my sister Marilyn in the front seat of a car that is pulling the trailer. (They are both deceased, but my dream self does not remember that.) Marilyn looks at Bob (who is driving), telling him that he forgot to unhitch the trailer, and she acknowledges me by looking back. Even so, he continues to drive to the Loomis Street house. I vividly feel the movement, especially as the car goes up a ramp to an overpass. When he drives near three semi-trailer trucks (on the right) that are emitting black smoke, I unhitch the trailer with bodily movement and mentally “drive” it down a different street, now while sitting up in its center. I consider this is legal, as there is a license plate at the back. Even though the caravan only has one pair of wheels, I successfully “drive” it to the Enchanted Forest (a fictitious recurring location in my dreams since childhood, though always different). I follow a boy down a hallway that opens into one section of the forest that is now part of a resort. There is an enclosed area with small monkeys and an eohippus (miniature prehistoric horse) here and there. One eohippus is lying on its left side (as I am in reality). I wonder if it is alive. The monkeys are only about eight inches tall. I pet a few of them. I instinctually vivify and sustain my dream by walking on the fence of the enclosure (a dream enhancement routine since childhood), increasing vestibular-cerebral perceptual integration. I look down to my left at a car with its doors open, wondering if the people think I am intruding upon their privacy. After I practice balancing for a few minutes, I jump back down into the animal enclosure. I discuss the Enchanted Forest with Locke, Sawyer, and Jack from the “Lost” television series. I describe a false memory regarding Jack driving me through an area of the region, which took a couple of days, being that it was of a different dimension that the rest of the resort. I tell them that one section is infinite. I call them over to look at a beautiful lake after going into “another world” through a door. We gaze at the extraordinary beauty. Several tourists are around, also appreciating the sight. I see a few small fish below the surface of the water and try to perceive more. The vividness and detail are unfathomable. After several minutes of appreciation, my dream begins to transition again to an instinctual awareness of my body being horizontal in bed, as well as a need to initiate waking (for me to get up and use the bathroom). As a result, I try to open a couple of bathroom doors, but Locke yells about needing to elude someone. It is Rowena King from “Emergence.” We all rapidly crawl on our bellies as does she, though she remains about ten feet behind us. We all crawl quickly on white sand underneath the underside of an unfinished building’s floor as I wake.
Morning of August 21, 2018. Tuesday. Reading time: 2 min 22 sec. Readability score: 65. I am with Zsuzsanna and our family but living on Loomis Street (where they have never been in reality, and yet my dream self does not detect the setting as incorrect). My brother-in-law Bob is sitting in his armchair. My mother-in-law is present, and Zsuzsanna is annoyed by her and goes into the bathroom. However, it is the Barolin Street house’s bathroom. We are all standing in here against a different wall. Zsuzsanna is the closest to the door. I tell my mother-in-law that she is the same as ten years ago even though she is not aggressive. (It has been over twenty years. We have not seen her much in reality.) Distracted, I decide to go to the park. The house is again the Loomis Street house before I leave. I walk north to where no park exists in reality. In my dream, it is a large area. I am eating pieces of bread. (My throat is drier than usual as I sleep.) I become aware of wanting to fly (common liminal perception of vestibular system correlation). I look up to a structure that I want to fly up onto (before flying elsewhere), but I notice that a man and woman are seated there on a bench. An unknown male walks to my left. While talking to me, the man soon takes his real left leg off as if it was detachable. He throws it several feet ahead. He asks me how he did, as apparently, he is practicing for an Olympic event. “There was a lot of evenness in your throw,” I reply, not knowing what else to say. He then retrieves it and deliberately throws it onto the left shoulder of an unfamiliar woman sitting at a picnic table (about twelve feet away) with others. That act seemed more like a cheerful prank. The woman seems only slightly annoyed. I do not know if they know each other. I am ready to fly, but there is a subliminal awareness that the physical body in the dream state is not real. That idea projects into another dream character as throwing the leg of their illusory body (left side is usually dream-oriented while the right is directed more toward waking perception as I sleep on my left side), implying that walking is pointless in the dream state. The earlier scene seemed preparatory for RAS (in an apparent need to wake and use the bathroom as Zsuzsanna was to the right of the door from inside the room), as both my brother-in-law and mother-in-law have annoyed me in the past (emotional trigger to cause waking). From there, I liminally created the porch buffer to vivify my dream on the way to vestibular system correlation (flight in this case), which transformed atypically. It is typical for my dreams to mix up settings, never in the same way more than once even in tens of thousands of them, and the endless variation has fascinated me since childhood. Ultimately, this is to prevent my non-lucid dream self (infra-self) from subliminally perceiving my dream setting as a real location. That is also why many events and ideas are incorrect or the opposite as I would have them in waking life other than when biological, literal, or prescient (which reveals one of the many problems with so-called interpretation), or reactive representation of the processes in REM sleep. It fascinates me when people claim that their dream correctly rendered where they lived or have lived, as I have never experienced this in my life even in lucid dreams.
Morning of May 13, 2018. Sunday. I find myself in an unfamiliar park at night. Zsuzsanna is present but is only about eighteen years old. My conscious self identity is not extant, though I want to be with Zsuzsanna, though it is implied we have not yet spent time together. Her father is present at one point. There is a cheerful atmosphere. A number of strange events take place with the typical timeline distortions and setting alterations. Part of the park has a cemetery, as has sometimes been the case in dreams since childhood. At one point, Zsuzsanna is standing near me and something invisible pushes her from her right. I wave my hand to make it visible and it is a tyrannosaurus of a somewhat yellowish color. It is not rendered very realistically and I wave it off. In one scene, I wave my hands in front of a small audience. The expectation is to cause trees to uproot and to float in the air as well as headstones being lifted from the ground to float in the air. It does not happen right away, which puzzles me (even though I am not lucid), but there is some eventual movement. In one of the last vivid scenes, I want to be with Zsuzsanna but I am puzzled by having barnacles growing from my left shoulder and upper left arm. I realize that this is not a serious medical condition, but I think it might make me undesirable. The barnacles jut out to about two inches. In the last sequence, Zsuzsanna is standing near me and about six people, mostly in white with numbers on their tank tops, run toward us, though we are not directly in their path, so they run past us. Soon after this, what I first consider is a wheel rolls toward us. I turn to look behind me as it rolls down the path. It turns to the right and seems to jump and then rolls a short distance into a field before stopping. The scene shifts to where I am on the Barolin Street house’s porch without realizing I had lived here once or remembering that a porch has been common autosymbolism for the waking space of a dream since early childhood. An unknown male of about twenty is present on the porch (the preconscious). He has a backpack and had been in the marathon. He is also a skydiver. Apparently, the “wheel” that rolled and jumped was his parachute wrapped up in the circular shape and it somehow got away from him. I cheerfully tell him of how it seemed to somehow jump on its own from the side of the road, implying that it might indicate a supernatural “I am” held by the parachute itself, as if it possessed consciousness. Working at decoding in reverse, the last scene is the very common (once per sleep cycle for over fifty years) vestibular system correlation autosymbolism and personification of the vestibular system factor by way of the preconscious. (This always represents a subliminal anticipation of the return to consciousness due to the nature of the falling start, which is solely biological.) The barnacle scene is from “Barnacle Bill the Sailor”, a rather ribald song my father used to perform fairly often in public. Still, the lines I laughed at the most as a child were “I’ll come down and let you in,” (sang three times in a falsetto voice), said the fair young maiden. “Well, hurry before I bust the door,” says Barnacle Bill the Sailor. Therefore, I suppose there is a very subtle liminal awareness of doorway autosymbolism as well as the autosymbolic nature of using a staircase (for changing the level of awareness in a dream). Still, there are usually transpersonal influences in levels of unconsciousness closer to waking. In this case, Zsuzsanna had been looking at a pirate outfit for a small teddy bear (which additionally is a dream state indicator), which I had not known about, so there are always intriguing external correlations and synchronicity. The tyrannosaurus scene is a throwback to childhood dreams where I had liminal dream control and created chase scenes without my dream self fully perceiving the source of the dream events by way of the preconscious (which is how dreams are mainly rendered, not by way of the unconscious, which the dream self does not have viable access to, or so-called subconscious, as the dream self is the subconscious personified, and without much intelligence or memory unless lucid). The cemetery is often perceived as the factor of the conscious self not being extant in the dream state, the same aspect that creates certain types of ghost autosymbolism.
Morning of August 2, 2017. Wednesday. I am with my wife Zsuzsanna. We are with several unknown people. In the first scenario, we are in some soft of unusual park. There is an unfamiliar female, dressed somewhat like a carnival fortune teller, who supposedly understands things about rare creatures in the area as well as how to use certain herbs for health. Still, there is a point at which I decide to leave with the others without any of us really interacting with her. She tells me about how I had changed my mind about asking her something after I already gained my own information about something. It is not really patronizing; just an observation, I think. I had taken the remains of two witch snakes that had died of natural causes. They are mostly like a snake other than having the miniature head of a Halloween witch. There is a painting of one in some sort of brochure, which I mention is not realistic because the head does not look right, being too cylindrical. An unknown male seems to have a different opinion, claiming that is how they look when alive. I take the fangs out of the upper part of their mouths, though I arrange them as pointing upwards, front down on a surface. Each creature has three teeth, it seems, though I first think that there had been four. It seems that another male might have lost a couple when the surface was tilted, and they slid off, but after there seemingly being at least one with four teeth, it looks like only three from each. I mention how it seems that one witch snake was older when it died, due to its fang-like teeth being cracked (with thin lines) vertically, in the back. Our group ends up walking in an unknown area, though it eventually resembles the grounds of my old middle school in Florida on the north end. I talk about how each tooth could be sold to superstitious people as some sort of object for healing. This seems amusing to me and I think I might be able to make a lot of money but then I consider that people might only be willing to pay twenty dollars each as another male gives advice and seems to agree. I then talk about how we can create the “same” fangs to have a potential to make more money. I mention how if dirt is placed in the mouth of a clam that a tooth would grow from that location. (This is actually some sort of distorted memory relating to how pearls are formed in oysters. There is probably also a second layer of distortion based on the phrase “pearly whites”, referring to teeth.)
Morning of May 9, 2017. Tuesday. In the first part of my dream, I am in a large urban park. I am not sure of the implied location. It may be Brisbane. A very small library is being built near the center of the park. There are only a few people working on it, with one man doing the most work and checking of the structure. So far, only part of the foundation has been finished. It seems to be an ongoing design rather than any blueprints being used. I attain liminal dream control. That is, I know I can help in “magical” ways, yet with no knowledge of what a dream is. I have my wand with me. My wand has featured in many dreams throughout my life with this level of liminal dream control. It is some sort of device, implied to be of a very high technology, that does whatever I want. I ask about the concrete foundation. Apparently, there will be no set foundation deeper in the ground. In fact, later, there are wheels on each corner of the building, like those on a utility cart. One of the first things I do to help is cause paintings to appear (including a large one on what is implied to be used as part of the roof), as well as fix up the evenness of the coat of paint already present. It is some sort of large duck icon. (This is a form of subliminal re-induction as a duck is a water bird.) I move my wand over the surface and different colors automatically fall into place. Much of the building thus far is of a metal frame. It does not seem that stable. While the main male is on break and seems uncertain of how to proceed, I move my wand over the various screws and the frame becomes tighter and more stable, not wobbling hardly at all. My dream continues for a long time as I move my wand around the different areas for different purposes, with the focus of automatic perfection (a state of awareness in most wand dreams). At one point, the main male finally wants to check something based on blueprints but he does not have any. This is the only time I am unable to help as I am only able to produce small blank pieces of paper that come from my right pants pocket. They are like a mix of blank shopping receipts and small squares of origami paper. Still, I know that by using my wand everywhere, the building will be exactly as it should be. At one point, I realize we are inside a large library. I am only slightly puzzled by the unexplainable setting change. It seems to me that this miniature library might be barely big enough for one person to move around inside. Its perimeter seems not that much bigger than a king-size bed. I know there will be shelves attached soon. I consider they will hang out from the outside, though facing inward. Still, this small special library may be for a series of children’s books. There have been a number of dreams throughout my life of small buildings within larger buildings. This one did not have a sense of bilocation as certain others had.
Updated 05-26-2018 at 06:17 PM by 1390
Morning of November 10, 2016. Thursday. I am in a van being driven by my brother-in-law Bob. Most of my family members are with me in the back except for Lorenzo (middle son). Looking to my left, I see that an unfamiliar female passenger in another vehicle (probably a van as a car would be lower) somehow holds onto the top of the driver’s side window of Bob’s van, which I think is a very foolish thing to do. (This seems to be a preconscious factor, at least potentially, but the situation eventually fades.) The vehicle has four chubby and aggressive females, probably in their late thirties. My brother-in-law does not respond. I eventually yell at them. They soon drive on ahead. We eventually arrive at an unfamiliar shopping mall near a mountainous area. It now suddenly shifts to nighttime, around eight o'clock. I suddenly feel concerned that Lorenzo is not with us, as I feel he should not be left alone (at our house) for the two or so hours we will probably be here (seemingly for shopping and a movie). I decide to quickly fly back to make sure he is okay, though on one level, I feel silly about flying all the way back after just arriving here, as it apparently took a long time for Bob to drive out here. However, because a parking lot symbolizes liminal space (a higher state between dreaming and waking), I somehow get “stuck” right on the perimeter. I am flying but not making much forward progress (a very rare event for me, but I have rarely attempted flight over a parking lot in dreams). I almost manage to fly above the roof of a nearby house. Instead, I decide to teleport to my bed (false awakening) and I am glad I am now able to check on Lorenzo. Almost immediately, I am with Lorenzo and the rest of our family in the front yard in Cubitis. It now seems early afternoon. It seems there are several people trespassing, close to the bedroom windows. I get angry but my family and I end up leaving, walking southward (with no destination in mind). I shout several rude remarks back at them as well as making rude gestures. They do not seem intimidated. Curiously, they are mostly all seated on the ground in formal meditation positions, including an unknown toddler (male). I get the impression that the oldest male (about sixty), who is thin and wearing coveralls, had been working on a car, but I do not see a car anywhere. Soon, I am walking with Zsuzsanna and an unknown female with dark short hair. As we walk along, there is mention of the van event that occurred in the first part of my dream (as this female apparently had trouble with the four from the vehicle as well). I eventually enter a very subtle lucidity, but not active lucidity. This is where I am not lucid but manifest, mostly through pretense at first, the idea of a secret area to explore (commonly recurring since early childhood). Even though it is mostly an outside area, we come to floor-length curtains (subtle lucidity sign, akin to going onto a stage). Going through the beige curtains, we enter some sort of secret abandoned park with a zoo theme. I am at first somewhat startled by a male and female lion (just to my left and past a doorway we come out from), and I am concerned for a short time that they may jump over the fence. However I soon realize that they are animatronic animals that have not been maintained for a long time as some of the sections of fur are missing and metal and plastic can be seen through certain areas. We continue along a beautiful garden path. The sidewalk, always with a continuous hedge on each side, turns at ninety degree offsets fairly often, but is not really maze-like. Although I am aware of several other animatronic animals, I do not see them due to dense shrubbery. I feel very happy and relaxed. We somehow end up in a kitchen, which is a little like the one on Stadcor Street. I am, for a short time, aware of a group of people walking by outside the large windows, but I do not actually see them through the curtains. I only hear them and they seem cheerful. There are soon unusual implications in the immediate setting. I see the year 2002 on a small calendar magnet on the refrigerator as well as seeing it on a couple documents. Zsuzsanna and the other female do not seem to “realize” the implications. To me, based on seeing “2002”, it seems like we are in the present. I feel that there is a pretense that the park had been closed for many years even though the date (false assumption) reflects the present (and even though by dream implications we are fourteen years in the past). Still, I feel a sense of harmony and peace. Being in the kitchen in the last scene represents light hunger during sleep. A lion is often the coalescence factor (return to consciousness) as it can swallow the imaginary dream self (and is an association with “The Sleeping Gypsy” 1897 oil painting). The curtains were the same color as the lions, so this was a type of subliminal expectation, though the lions turned out to be mechanical (and not any sort of threat) in this case. My puzzling over the date and not knowing the present year is quite common in my dreams. The personified subconscious (dream self) has no concept or understanding of time in the majority of my non-lucid dreams. For example, I am often much younger or in a different or mixed up time period that combines different time periods. I do not like conflicts or conflict-related challenges in dreams, though the preconscious biologically needs to be aggressive to push the dreamer to activate waking (via RAS) even though coalescence consent (such as hugging a dream character as also has recurred since childhood) would be much better, though the personified subconscious (dream self) typically sees the preconscious state as a threat (especially when there is a subliminal desire to sleep longer), both with negative daybreak types (or end of the world events) and various forms that chase the dreamer, rather than allowing time to indulge in sustained dream exploration as here.
Morning of August 24, 2016. Wednesday. Dream #: 18,146-05. Reading time (optimized): 3 min. I am with my family in an unknown location near a small oval pond of an area of about ten feet by six feet, seemingly late at night. There are no other discernible environmental features. Zsuzsanna is off to my left, our two youngest sons closer to me on my left, our youngest the closest. Our youngest son is fishing, but I eventually help him reel in a fish. It turns out to be a small pale bluegill (even though I had considered that there were no fish in the pond) with the hook stuck on the outside of his mouth on its right side, which is difficult to pull out. The tangibility and sense of movement and weight of catching a fish are amazingly realistic. When I throw it to my right instead of putting it on a stringer, I see a second pond, about the same size as the first, perpendicular to it and about two feet away from it. The water is only inches deep. There is a pile of bluegill about three or four high, almost covering the far half of the side of the pond, most caught within the last day or two. About a third are alive. I wonder which fish came from which body of water, but the second one is not deep enough to fish in now. Later, we walk near a ravine in an unknown location (where there is only part of a guardrail) near an urban area. It seems to be late afternoon. The scene is clear and detailed, with plenty of light to see at a distance. I see puddles far below and three big parallel fish on their stomachs about five feet apart, facing away from us. They are about four feet long and still alive. I tell Zsuzsanna two are sturgeons, but one is an alligator gar, but the imagery changes to feature the opposite. The scene is ambiguous, as they are similar in appearance. We teleport to the area near the fish far below. I warn our youngest son not to put his hand near the mouth of a gar, but he does after patting its back, seemingly preparing to take it home with us to eat. He appears to have cut his fingers. However, this is not the case, and he seems cheerful. We walk through a long but narrow park, adjacent to the road. It is late at night again. There are about five other people around (of questionable repute), and they are setting up an overnight camp in the closed park. They gather under a park shelter nearby. An unknown male in his forties, who may be lighting a cigarette, throws a lit match into the river close to where he is. As a result (and as I vaguely anticipate), the river’s surface somehow catches fire with a bright flash and tall flames, and they are startled but unharmed. Not wanting trouble from the park rangers, Zsuzsanna and our children, under my lead, turn to go back in the opposite direction with a steady gait, though not as if fleeing, but assertively. I am aware that there may be a game warden or two near the boat ramp directly opposite the entrance (where we first came in), but this is uncertain. Now we are going home. It seems to be around the same time as the previous scene. We reach the perimeter of a parking lot, about one-fifth the size of a city block, adjacent to the sidewalk. We may walk through it diagonally from here (off to its right) rather than go around at the intersection. However, the declivity might be too challenging for us to traverse, especially for Zsuzsanna to manage the pram. We walk through a high school instead. Even though it is late at night, students are walking on the grounds. (At least one is wearing an American football uniform.) We use the entrance and the exit but go back around and up to a fence that blocks our way. We walk around it and continue from here as I wake. Dream signature: Water induction, seeking correlation of dream state awareness (fishing), water lowering (melatonin mediation), vestibular system adaptation (walking near ravine), water reinduction (river), lit match and river on fire (precursory consciousness initiation; choice to “go home”; wake), liminal space entry (parking lot), vestibular system correlation (anticipation of walking through declivity; wariness of waking process as potential falling sensation), emerging thinking skills (going through high school), wall mediation (fence).
Morning of June 22, 2016. Wednesday. My wife Zsuzsanna and family and I as we are now are at a large unfamiliar park, though perhaps implied to be in Brisbane. It is somewhat like a composite of the South Bank and Nundah parks. After a time, a group of unknown people start to gather under a shelter. This seems to be related to the beginning of a concert. It seems to be nighttime at first, perhaps around nine o'clock. We listen to the music for a time. Our children stand to our right. We are not actually under the shelter at this point but just on the outer perimeter of it. Burl Ives, or someone much like him in this case, eventually shows up and there is the option to go with him on some sort of tour of the area. Zsuzsanna and I and a number of other people join the group. At this point, our children apparently remain behind, although our two oldest are with the younger ones. We are eventually on a bus going up a hill. Somehow, the time is now late morning or afternoon since it is now daylight. After a time, the bus transforms into a jeep and Zsuzsanna and I are sitting in the front to the right of the driver (which is the wrong orientation if assuming an Australia vehicle). The jeep goes over a narrow road and into a fissure; between two high rock faces (which almost come up to the sides of the jeep), right to the edge of a cliff - and I almost think we are going over and that it is meant to be the purpose and climax of the supposed tour. I see the view far below, mostly of forests and ravines. Soon though, the jeep backs up and I hear an unknown voice behind me say, “Oh, we are backing up now” as if they are relieved our tour did not include going over the cliff. “This is a really stupid way to make a road,” I say assertively. However, the jeep, after backing out from the fissure, is then driven in a perpendicular direction and comes to a stop just before going off another part of the cliff. Again, I contemplate if we are going over but instead the driver backs up a bit and turns and goes down the road and back into town. Having had enough of this “tour”, I leave the jeep as it is still going down the street and somehow end up on my own in an unusual fancy building, which is apparently closed at the time. I try to find a door out of the building to go home (as I am also concerned about where our children are) but I end up only going into what seem like business offices. One room has a male and female who do not regard me. I then turn and go down a hall and somehow (by force of will even though I am not at all lucid) create a door into a portico which leads into a parking lot. It is now nighttime again (and thus Ed Wood must be directing this dream as often seems the case with illogical sudden switches from night to day and back again during the same shorter time period). As I walk through the parking lot, Zsuzsanna is walking to my right as if she had been there all along. I am still concerned about our children’s safety, particularly our youngest daughter. As I continue to walk I realize that Zsuzsanna is still speaking to me even though she is now a mostly yellow (emergent consciousness color) cylindrical music box of the windup type that holds and rotates a baby cot mobile. I accidentally drop her on a parking block as I am stepping over it. I feel bad and hope she still works. I hear her musical whirring and realize she may recover. Firstly, a parking lot represents the liminal space between dreaming and waking and is always an element of the waking precursor for me. Many of my dreams end in a parking lot setting because of the symbolic association between being “elsewhere” (in the dream state) and from there will go “home” (real physical body) even though there is no car association here (and I am inclined to now believe that a parking block may be analogous to a pillow as a dream sign in at least some cases). This last part was also indirectly precognitive as our youngest daughter was slightly injured by falling on a music box (though was not hurt that much). The loose patterns included the music box, the association with a baby or young child, and being hurt in a fall. My dream however, though it foreshadowed the event correctly on one level, used completely different connections. What I find very curious here is how the typical falling start (waking point) was “stopped” twice before I took action to go into a different level of consciousness (though I sometimes deliberately jump from cliffs to enter an enhanced flying mode), which then foreshadowed an event from today. I was unable to prevent it, but I still find it very interesting and typical of the unexplainable facets that occur in some dream types.
Updated 08-15-2017 at 06:51 PM by 1390
Morning of November 1, 2015. Sunday. I am not sure of the setting of this dream. There is a vague association with Barolin Street, though quite distorted. There is also a park in this dream which is similar to the unfamiliar one of another recent dream (and with a similar theme of imposition by a stranger), though the setting is very distorted; not possible to discern a separation of being indoors or outdoors. Firstly, I am ready to do some writing at a table (I mostly use a desk in reality), possibly relating to my dream journal. I go into my large room and see my second-youngest son playing with another (unfamiliar) boy. There is part of a toy racing track under my table which is of a solid two-lane form. There is an additional section near my chair. Somehow, I fall upon it as I sit down (possibly on purpose to express how it is not where it should be) and then apologize though I do not think I broke it. I get the impression that I share the room but that the race track is wrongfully in my part of the room. The clarity and sense of touch is very vivid here. From here, our big room is “actually” part of the outside area of an unfamiliar park (still with the sense of being inside and outside at the same time). Looking behind me, I see numerous unfamiliar people walking around (implied south of me). One male is pushing a small dirt bike. Another male is carrying a very small dirt bike across his shoulders. I talk to him about the different sizes and types (though I have zero interest in dirt bike racing in real life) including the miniature ones. I notice he is “also” carrying a boy on his shoulders, which makes the scene ambiguous and distorted - or maybe he was only carrying the boy. He seems irritated by my attitude that the “room” is mine even though I am amazed by the audacity of the others. My son becomes annoyed by the imposing public (and the feeling they are “taking over”) and I realize he will be getting rid of his (fictional) large collection of embossed spider stickers, sheets of about five by eight, each showing a different species. This also makes me consider how expensive they were. I do not really want to see them discarded. From here, I go into a distorted pretend fight. I stab one of the imposing dirt bike racing participants in the chest, but my knife is not real and simply folds back each time like paper. I do not feel angry at that point and not even all that confused by the fake knife. After this, I notice more dream characters, some with surreal or abstract faces. I pull out a revolver and shoot one of them, soon realizing it was a blank I fired and thus the dream character remains standing; cheerful, but too distracted by his telephone conversation to notice being shot at (the sound only being about a third of the volume of a real blank being fired). More and more random characters gather and my dream fades. What I can add now about this is that I had learned motorcycles sometimes relate to life energy (similar to horses and “horsepower”) or in some cases, the underlying energies of the conscious mind within the dream state. Other dreams about miniature motorcycles seem to imply less conscious awareness and control in the dream state even when the dream is otherwise vivid. However, there is still my “Motorcycle Jump” dream where the motorcycle itself was my conscious self in desiring to wake (after sleeping too long) by flying up through a small window. There may be a touch of that in this dream - a need to get on a dirt bike, take control, and “return” to my physical body to wake (especially considering how ambiguous the setting was - possibly a play on the state between waking and dreaming - the “room in the house”/mind and the “real outside”/external energies in this case - together as one presence).
Updated 05-25-2016 at 07:36 AM by 1390
Morning of August 24, 2013. Saturday. One unusual and unlikely recurring setting in my dreams is a public park (often unfamiliar) that has small cemeteries (such as 4x5, 3x4, or 4x4 lots) near picnic and recreation areas, usually without fencing. Either the park is about half the size of a city block (within a slightly elevated area of four lower streets in an urban area) or a larger isolated park with the sections being sparser with a long road on one side (and sometimes an adjacent dense forest). Sometimes, the graves are very old (as far back as the 1700s). In this dream, I seem to have arrived by car (my brother-in-law Bob or perhaps a brother having driven me here). The park is very large, seemingly to the north of where I am. A mostly featureless area with a long road is to the south and the park is oriented east and west. The areas between the several 3x4 “mini-cemeteries” are larger than usual and there are a lot of recreational events, such as Frisbee-throwing, amateur softball, and picnicking. There is one area that is somewhat like a composite of the Onalaska Cemetery and the Bundaberg Cemetery. I am thinking that it is getting later, near sunset, and I am wondering why so many people are still in the park and playing around, even having lunch. I start to run around and enjoy the more open spaces and I soon find myself floating and flying about. I maintain an unusual floating position about four feet above the ground. I am facing downwards but my upper body is at a upright forty-five degree angle while my legs are somehow horizontal and my arms out behind me to the sides. I float about like this for several minutes, even going over gravesites with no fear or concern, with a sense of freedom and near-bliss. (I seem to remember seeing this flying position of a ghost in an older Harvey comic book.) I land near a group of people but near the internal edge of an unfenced 3x4 “mini-cemetery” and the headstone of a grave. I put my right arm effortlessly down through the ground until I reach the implied coffin, expecting to find a skull. It seems like I am only a hologram and my arm is at a different location. This is a recurring concept in my dreams, where I am supposedly doing something physical in the environment yet I am projected from elsewhere, thus I cannot be hurt in such a rendering if someone wants to approach me in a violent manner. Some people seem afraid or wary of me and my ability to push my arm into solid ground. Instead of a skull, my fingers move around in a partly gritty pile, about two feet down, of large thin seashell-like flakes which seem to be in a casket. (This possibly relates to when I used to walk through the cemetery on my way to the grocery store seeing large plastic bowl-like containers of seashells on many graves.) Eventually, I pull a figure out of the ground. It is more like a life-sized human statue at first, the monument on the Jennie Haniver tomb that must have fallen and been partly buried, but the outer layers (or “crust”) break away from the statue’s face and it turns out to be a human female, likely Jennie Haniver herself, who had died on or around 1723, yet she is now smiling and happy (and is also my wife Zsuzsanna as there is the association that she was - in a symbolic sense - the “real” Jennie Haniver who was lost at sea at age 22, Zsuzsanna’s age when we first made contact, and we even named one of our daughters “Revinah” as a middle name, and in a few dreams the Blue Pearl is Jennie Haniver and even the movie shows bluish streaks of light as she sinks to the depths of the ocean). One man who seems to be like a chauffeur from the 1930s starts yelling in horror. “Oh no, what is that, what is going on? Somebody please tell me what is going on!” It turns out to be some sort of prank while filming the television show “Scare Tactics”. My wife Zsuzsanna had been wearing some sort of elaborate outfit covered with powder to look like a gravesite monument at first so that then the “statue” is implied to “come to life” to scare the target audience. Again, this was influenced by the Jennie Haniver plot (dream pun?) of which there have been a number of connections (regarding the 1978 movie “The Bermuda Depths”). For example, Zsuzsanna’s step father’s name is “Davy Jones” (as in “Davy Jones’ Locker” implied by the movie as to where Jennie Haniver lives). The first song I heard in public in Australia (before marrying Zsuzsanna) was sung by a chubby man who sounded like Wayne Newton. He was happily strutting along in public, his head moving about and grinning at me (even though most other people in the Brisbane Central area looked rather sad by comparison) and singing “It came from the bottom of the deep blue sea, it come from the bottom of the sea!”. As the “statue” I pull up out of the ground turns out to be Zsuzsanna, there is similarity to my precognitive uprooted lamp dream. I have the ability in this dream to dig deeper for answers and with less resistance than other people seem to expect or accept (thus which may also symbolize precognition). On the basic level, it simply symbolizes my growing awareness of my wife Zsuzsanna waking up for the day. (This is the usual meaning of a statue coming to life in a dream. Reference: What does a statue coming to life in a dream mean? It means the conscious mind is becoming more active as a waking precursor. Most non-lucid dream symbols and metaphors, first and foremost, relate directly to sleeping, dreaming, and waking in real time.)
Morning of July 5, 1966. Tuesday. This was recurring from this time period (after the Fourth of July in 1966) associated with an actual visit to a park; Veterans Memorial Park Campground in Wisconsin. My older sister Carol (half-sister on mother’s side) seems the strongest presence in my dreams for a time, with other older relatives also in the area including my older brother Jim (though only relatives from my mother’s side) and usually no other (either generic or unknown) additional characters. The area seems more isolated than in reality and somewhat bushy though there is an open area where a large house supposedly once stood. All that is left is the fireplace and part of the chimney. However, there is ambiguity here in that it also seems like a brick barbecue deliberately made for the park or at least is apparently mistaken for one or considered as such according to my dream’s back story. There is some uncertainty whether or not to use it or to look for another one (even though no one seems to be carrying food or other supplies). There were several variations of this dream, not that well-documented as I was only five years old at the time, though it is one of my first known recurring dreams. This dream series may have just been caused by a visual association; that is, the similar appearance between a residential fireplace (especially from actual ruins I likely would have have seen) and an outside brick barbecue. I am glad I have these wondrous memories.
Updated 07-12-2015 at 09:18 PM by 1390
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