Blue_Opossum

Morning of October 6, 2019. Sunday.

Dream #: 19,284-04. Reading time: 1 min 40 sec.



Induction: I am sitting in an armchair wearing headphones in an unknown residence. The room is not well-lit. I listen to various vocal sounds on a tape playing in a cassette deck to my left, some that are partial affirmations related to dreaming, though there is the usual gibberish. I do not maintain full dream state awareness (though my perception remains instinctual, as the processes are the same, lucid or not).

I see many maidenhair ferns in small plant pots. It is a beautiful tranquil sight. I feel I am where I should be. I notice it now seems to be late morning.

Wall mediation with a vestibular precursor: I see a shadow at the glass-paneled door. It seems to be an uninvited ninja who has a crowbar that soon emerges between the door and door frame. I suspect this may relate to the cassette I am listening to, so I pull the jack from the cassette deck and remove my headphones. As I do, the door makes a light shutting sound, and there is no ninja. (Pulling a jack from a stereo is the opposite of what I typically do in dreams to vivify and sustain cortical arousal. In addition to a typical preconscious personification, the ninja is a vestibular simulacrum, which transitions into flight autosymbolism in the next scene.)

More wall mediation and vestibular processing: I turn about to see a winter forest setting beyond an open wall. I enjoy the beauty of the scene as the snowflakes strike my face. The time has changed again, and it now seems early evening. A jet flies overhead (unrealistically slow). I see its shadow rise on the trunk of a tree, and I lift my arms to mimic the shape. I am unsure if they are searching for the ninja or me. I decide to take to the sky and become one with the jet to gain control of the whole region. (I fly vertically straight up.)

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The tree with the rising shadow of the jet is a process whereby the tree is a representation of how my physical body does not move while I am sleeping. The flight association is the precursor to vestibular arousal. Rather than the drop, I fly up and out of my dream as I have many times since childhood. Vehicles of any kind (including aircraft) are typically a result of the imaginary physicality of the dream state, each having specific nuances and associations with different levels of muscularity and anticipation of the drop.

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Morning of January 6, 2013. Sunday.



In a mostly featureless field, there is a dead tree with sparse branches seen in early evening, apparently just after sunset, and in semi-lucidity. In touching the tree, I ground myself without a focus on the anticipation of vestibular system ambiguity. I am fully in my fictitious dream body for the duration.

I vaguely recall previous dreams of living trees reaching out to stroke my face with the tips of their branches, in seemingly expressing love as an essence of nature itself.

I notice movements across the bark on the side of the tree, a shifting of kite-shaped patches of golden “skin”, which sometimes feature a singular eye. I notice that part of the tree is breathing, a part of its bark moving out and back in with the same overall size as a person’s abdomen. Eventually, I become aware of a female Buddha looking at me somewhat blankly, perhaps puzzled by my presence.

There is a change of awareness and temporality, a “blind spot” of which I do not pay full attention, a very common factor of the dream state when full lucidity is not present. A female Beetlejuice modulates my dream from here, though she is not threatening in any way (as preconscious modulation sometimes is when the need to wake and attend to real needs is greater). For a moment, I consider how serious it seems, even with a link to the spiritual, though I eventually come to terms with how silly the scenario is. I recognize the waking transition as it is rendered as an outdoor wooden staircase (as relating to vestibular system autosymbolism), which does not seem connected to a building. I faithfully use the stairs without slipping or falling (or the staircase changing form or collapsing), noticing the steps are rendered rather well. It all comes down to the usual vestibular system correlation with the personified preconscious (and additionally in this case as the vestibular system personification as the female Beetlejuice accompanying my subconscious self at this point), an extension of RAS mediation, passively leading the way in a liminal space where the religious fantasies wrought by others, and the movie fantasies wrought by others, are ultimately equal.

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Additional notes on the cause and meaning behind this dream: Way back when I was four years old and vowed to myself to understand and master the dream state, I came to realize that seeing eyes moving in a dream, especially when isolated, is primarily based on liminal awareness of being in REM sleep (though was also influenced from “sleep watching” the “Outer Limits” episode of “Don’t Open Till Doomsday” at age 4). There have been many dreams with this detail. In the eyes being on the tree, the tree in this case, especially in being in the mostly featureless field, represents the static (unmoving) status of my physical body during sleep.

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Night of August 29, 2017. Tuesday.



As a very young child, an intriguing recurring dream, some of which versions were lucid, involved walking down a zigzagging path. It usually seemed to be late at night or very early in the morning before dawn. I would notice a splendorous tree. I would also notice, within the foliage of that tree, eerie glowing eyes.

The eyes did not seem threatening, though I was aware they were watching me. These states were very vivid. These animals were eventually revealed to be opossums.

In this new dream, I “return” to this tree and some sort of analogy begins. The tree is shown to represent the human brain, while the glowing eyes represent the energy of neurons presumably while in the dream state. For some reason, it seems a perfect analogy.

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One of the several reasons why “opossum” became a part of my dream-self identity, tribal name, and online dream journalist name, was because of these vivid childhood dreams and the fact that an opossum is a perfect symbol for being in the dream state (as an opossum “plays dead” as an analogy of being asleep - not meant in a negative context).

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Zsuzsanna had a pet Australian opossum when I first made contact with her. This was one of thousands of details that validated our inherent connections to each other long before we met. (She also drew an opossum in a tree as a child with an airplane flying over it, and of course, I flew in an airplane to Australia.) My life has remained miraculous and Zsuzsanna is the only person near my age I can sense as being “there” at all (through the blue flame or Blue Pearl “telepathy”, for lack of a better word).

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Morning of August 17, 2016. Wednesday.



My wife Zsuzsanna and I seem to be much younger, perhaps both in our twenties, seemingly about the same age. My dream starts (or at least becomes viably discernible) at a point where we are walking out from the Cubitis carport (a common induction point in my childhood and teenage years) about an hour or two before dawn.

We are headed out to the highway area just beyond the big front yard (the original Highway Seventeen) for some reason. I notice that the area is different. Instead of a culvert, the land is elevated about eight feet above the highway (which is an intriguing variation I had never dreamt of before). I notice a few wastebaskets just off the highway, of various sizes and colors, which I consider as belonging to neighbors. I also get the impression that people sometimes sit in the area on the wayside below as an act of socialization.

Zsuzsanna goes north to the area near where Harold’s orange grove started. There is an unusual large light-colored tree growing through a recess (or circular “notch”) in the embankment with its west side open (and facing the highway). Most of the branches (at least those in view) look as if they had been cut off about a foot or so from the trunk. Some of the exposed roots seem to be nearly at the height of the embankment (extending into the recess only) even though the trunk also properly extends from the ground below just off the highway. I do not question this highly unlikely and illogical feature. There is no traffic on the highway during the length of my dream.

After a short time, even though I have no lucidity, I will a television to appear. It is a widescreen television similar to our real one and it faces the house. I tell Zsuzsanna to “watch this” as I manipulate its placement without touching it, using telekinesis to slide it a bit more north. (At no point is anything discernible or considered to be more north of the tree.) There is a sense of puzzlement where I consider that the embankment may have a slope from the ground level below that is horizontally deeper in near the bottom, and if this is the case, there may be people there though unseen, though this does not seem to be the case after a time. I cause the television to float in the air a few times, just past the edge of the embankment, as I contemplate what to do with it.

I eventually start moving my hands in both a vertically and horizontally increasing span (moving my arms about slowly in an arc) as if indicating that the television is getting larger both in its width and height. This actually works and I am amused as I cheerfully ask Zsuzsanna “how is this?” It becomes very large, nearly as big as a movie theater screen (though with the black surface of a television), several times its original size. The detail seems flawless in how it slides and becomes larger, vaguely reminiscent of shutters opening (though not directly rendered as such, though I do get an association of parts of it flopping out from the side as it evenly grows larger though not as if by original design). My dream becomes more and more vivid as I go closer to the tree and the edge of the embankment and I sit down to the left of the tree (south side). It is the only tree visible in the area.

Zsuzsanna starts climbing the tree, but only near embankment height, and she mostly only circles around it, sitting on a truncated (seemingly evenly sawed-off) branch a couple times, while facing the tree. Still, I am concerned that she could slip or fall and I tell her to be careful as I would not want anything to happen. I then use telekinesis to start causing dirt to fill in the recess that the tree is adjacent to, but decide to stop after a short time even though the completion would cause the area to be more stable to walk on (though this is not really logical as in reality there would still be less dirt overall in the area, although there is a sense that I may be creating it as I also mentally move it). Zsuzsanna seems very happy and deriving pleasure from moving about the tree’s circumference (while staying mostly at the embankment height, going neither up or down). I feel a sensual attraction to her as she sits on the truncated branch facing the tree, the scene being somewhat erotic.

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Since 1968, Highway Seventeen (the original name as the stretch is now called Northeast Cubitis Avenue), when featuring as the main setting of a dream (especially in the final segment) causes an absolutely amazing heightened sense of clarity and extremely clear “realistic” detail and vividness. I suspect at least two possible reasons for this. A highway often seems symbolic of the strongest link between dream self and more discernible increasingly active consciousness. I also spent a lot of time (during a period of about eight years) waiting on the wayside for the school bus (as well as getting off there in the afternoon), and so these two factors also can combine to validate this as an augmented liminal space and “arriving home” (waking up) scenario. The fact that I non-lucidly create and manipulate the television (which usually represents a dream within a dream though in contrast also a link to the external real environment) seems to be a very intriguing non-lucid practice of dream manipulation (though many dreams throughout my life, I as my dream-self have also manipulated non-lucidly solely by pretense and nearly subliminal expectation, though this does not always work, as with my recent “Robot Help” dream as an example). Additionally, the television expanding and growing larger is also analogous to my dream becoming more vivid.

Morning of April 15, 2016. Friday.



I find myself in an unknown area, seemingly indoors, with no memory of much of anything. I think that there may be some sort of movie being made but this is not certain. The setting may be either a movie studio or a warehouse for movie props.

There is a large (apparently uprooted) tree on its side. The area with the roots is very large and complex. There is another (unknown) younger male character present.

I look more closely at the area of the large roots and notice a number of “eggs” between sections of the roots. However, these “eggs” soon seem to somehow be very small egg-shaped mechanical men that are also somewhat like egg-shaped garden gnomes. I cannot really determine the nature of the setting at this point though I decide that the tree is some sort of very odd movie prop.

One of the “roots” is actually some sort of lever. I pull it and a human-sized mechanical man emerges from the underside of the tree, from within the roots (as if the bottom of the tree is mostly hollow). The mechanical man is dressed in ordinary clothes and emerges stomach down with its arms forward, but moving with a sort of slower butterfly stroke swimming pattern, but also implying it is “reaching out” towards the other person. This “reaching out” is only incidental however, as this mechanical prop would always do this same routine whenever someone pulls the lever. I find it somewhat amusing and vaguely familiar, though I am not really focused on what sort of movie this big prop might be for. In a way, it reminds me of me when I was perhaps around twenty years of age.

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This is a very strange (and for me, entirely unique) waking transition. The butterfly stroke as being relative to swimming is an excellent hybrid flight symbol and simultaneous water emergence metaphor, similar to a manta ray, stingray, flying fish, or flying sub association.

Instead of climbing a tree as related to moving through another level of conscious awareness within my dream, my dream-self projected “mechanical me” (which otherwise symbolizes the “unreal” aspect of the dream state itself and the lack of a “real” physical form for the dreamer in the dream state), comes from inside the tree, and from the underside, as metaphorical for waking up. (Of course, “movie” is a replacement word for the dream state, though as stated before, fictional dream characters curiously also use “movie” to describe a real-life event.)

This is probably one of the only times I have seen a tree in a dream symbolize birth or awakening and as representing motherhood (validated by all the little egg men which are analogous to human ovaries, the tree roots being analogous to fallopian tubes in this case). Very curious. I am otherwise very familiar with this symbolism since I have documented hundreds of dreams which utilized this same basic template (including “The Tadpole’s Ghost” and “Red Wagon Teleportation” and many others). However, I am not aware of any dominant light source (or beam or ray) in this dream, though which is probably implied to be the seeming daytime setting itself (though I do not recall seeing a sunbeam coming from a window or doorway).

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Updated on Friday, 1 July 2016: I forgot that “coming out of a tree” could also be a play on “The Lorax”, who came out of a tree after it was chopped down. This then, would also seemingly be a reference to mortality rather than just birth. “The Lorax” was broadcast first on Valentine’s Day in 1972 and my father died on Valentine’s Day in 1979. The connection seems obvious now. There are probably hundreds (more like thousands) of markers like this in my dreams which I have not discovered yet.

Morning of May 8, 2015. Friday.



This dream is a very good example of how even the best, most focused scripting can go awry once entering a dream state (though it depends on the form of meditation, “automatic” affirmation acceptance, and concurrent imagery). Although over the years, I have often noticed more and more “automatic” personal control over many dreams (even non-lucid ones) and the growing knowledge (with increasing levels of precision) of how my mind and attitude creates dreams, there is often another facet of my real-time (present) experience that becomes triggered somehow, though which is still solely of my waking character. In this case, it was probably being annoyed in real life by thoughtless impositions on our family by NBN workers. Aligning the transitions between different levels of consciousness to more fluidly move through them (from the onset of fully conscious hypnagogia I have had since early childhood) while remaining my true self is not that difficult at times (even at some levels of otherwise disruptive environmental noise), but the most curious thing still is how memory completely fails on such a grand scale even after only a few seconds in some cases. Sleep paralysis is still usually a very pleasant experience (unlike what I have read from other sources) and is automatically triggered by exertion or so-called overexercise, and oddly, overexercise, even at my present age, brings feelings of being healthier and more relaxed even if I had earlier felt ill.

In my dream, I am walking in an unknown area, which seems like some sort of composite between a part of this town (in the commercial district), the south side of La Crosse, and where I went to school in Florida. I am walking down the street, seemingly with the intent to study a large notebook I am carrying (probably a type of dream journal) while relaxing in a nearby park.

I seem to be walking on Bourbong Street on the left side, heading east, growing closer to the edge of the urban area. As I walk, I notice a young Asian male on my left, who is seated on the sidewalk and leaning against the outer wall (near a corner) of a business building, fairly close to an intersection. He seems quite happy. On his right is an unknown female (though her appearance is not that clear).

I soon find myself in a park that reminds me of the playground where I went to school in Florida. The park is very crowded though there are areas to sit down. I sit down and lean against a tree and open my notebook. Curiously, on the left side when I open it, there is a clear display page containing a large photograph (about two-thirds the size of the A4 page) that shows the imagery I had just seen of the male leaning against the building. I do not consider this as impossible or untimely at all. I look through my book and notice various pages that are “pieces” of my personal history and ideas.

After a time, I notice the presence of an unknown female on my right, possibly a college student who came to the park to study, and who seems to be fairly “dominant” and self-aware. I eventually notice that I am somehow sitting farther from the tree (with no memory of having moved) and feeling a bit imposed upon. I turn back to the girl and bring attention to the fact that she had supposedly been pushing me away from where I was seated near the tree (and I supposedly only moved little by little out of politeness and to avoid any potential confrontation). I seem a bit angry, but not aggressive in any way. She does not react other than giving me a curious look as if perhaps I have lost my mind and simply moved away from her on my own for no particular reason (in fact, she is facing perpendicular to where I am and had probably not really pushed me physically at any point). She remains where she is, appearing stoic and not offended in any way. I notice she has a notebook much like mine and seems to be studying the pages carefully.

In fact, I had deliberately scripted such a scene (up until the time when I become annoyed) where I would be given healing energies as well as answered questions and possible information about the future by a representation of the universe when “she” appeared. This is certainly not the first time that I threw a monkey wrench into my own unfolding script (though this does not happen in fully lucid dreams) and it likely will not be the last.

Early afternoon of May 20, 2013. Monday.



I was having a nap; had a light headache, which kind of altered my dream state, I suppose. I rarely had headaches when younger and mostly only get them now in unseasonable heat - and it was really hot this morning even though it is supposed to be winter here - we even had to turn the fan on after this.

In my dream, I am with my wife, and there is a gecko moving about on the wall as in real life. I watch the very smooth, circular actions. Later, I am outside in an unfamiliar area (but maybe a distorted version of King Street in Wisconsin), seemingly at night, becoming semi-lucid. I notice that there is an “identical” but different gecko moving in a similar or same way on every single leaf of a tree, each making a sort of circular movement and going around and under a leaf, around the same time, and I feel a very strange awe over that, as it would mean that there are hundreds (even thousands) of geckos in the tree (and perhaps every other tree in the area). It is not exactly a strong fear, just a sense of being near great, natural power with a potentially overwhelming presence. It has a similar sense of a dream as a child about a giant lobster approaching from behind a building and a particular pattern being in every window at the same time at one point. I guess you could call it some sort of “fly’s-eye” view or effect, the same thing repeated in many different facets of vision. This is actually only the second time in my life that I remember experiencing this. It may be related to having a headache (I did not document a headache codition for my lobster dream) - as, when I was awake later, I had a strong impression of several perfect rows of alternating red and green spinning “wheels” (like partial bicycle wheels).

Another dream scene, though somewhat a possible continuity of the previous, involved looking at a journal entry from a dream journal site. However, instead of a computer monitor, it was somehow in a notebook of white unlined paper with picture cards attached to almost every part (from the center of the particular card, as most of it could be pulled out a little around the corners) with the entry and other comments all being on the same page, being more like a forum - also appearing to have been typed. Parts of it (one page) reminded me of something (a brief exchange) I had read on the real site that was hilarious (relating to celibacy, followed by the nice and blunt simple reaction and later additional comment in another entry by the original dreamer). A couple more comments were made in my dream, somehow appearing on the plain white (unlined) notebook paper, but the original dreamer and commenter were not the same as in real life and it involved something to do with spiders supposedly always being celibate - the real life scenario, though, reflecting somehow in my dream like some sort of jester-like catalyst. There is something along the lines of “oh look, nothing is growing” and someone else saying “I see a lot of flowers”, something to do with one person being more creative by seeing flowers - possibly relating to IMDb as well - where, very commonly in reality, one person hates the movie and another person really likes it.

Morning of February 22, 1992. Saturday.



My dream girl (oh…except for one little thing - she is now real) approaches the Tree of Knowledge. There is a resonance whereby, though there is change, the form can still be discerned over time. Remote viewing comes so easily at times. For her, I was born, even before her own birth. Humanity has no answers or even a scrap of knowledge concerning my nature, but that has never been problematic in any serious sense.

I see the universe at the base, the roots alive, almost octopus-like. Above each root is an eye-like structure, the eyes somewhat catlike, though actually each “eye” is more like a portal over time. A spiral. So I draw these facets as spirals. Within these roots are smaller roots. On and on. Of course, everyone doodles spirals and many-eyed octopus trees with hooked roots at some point in their lives. Yes?

When she was much younger, Zsuzsanna drew a rather surreal image in her journal. Years later, when I was writing to her and her family, I drew a similar concept on the outside of an envelope without having any clue of what she had drawn. Once again, the truth unveils (even though she already knew who I was with my very first letter - after all, for whatever reason, she had found me and remote-viewed my life since her birth - endless proof; everywhere).

Being only one of hundreds (make that thousands) of similar occurrences, which is quite beneficial, as it stops ordinary people from wanting to be near one (faces of fear, faces of bafflement, faces of anger) - thus less misleading and misguided rubbish from their limited awareness of the universe casts one’s way - it does not take a genius to know the “cop outs” of humanity are of no value for one seeking truth in their own path. People have tried to influence me since I was very young. I gawk at their audacity and limited understanding. Yet there is still respect for them as living beings.

The first image is scanned from one of my wife’s old journals. The second from the envelope I sent from America to Australia (without knowing of the contents of her journals). This one is a freebie and for mild amusement. For all the ones that are “too close”, I have learned that most people do not have the capacity to either believe or understand. It is a predictable habit people have to run from the Source rather than embrace it and thus many always keep their back to it. I had nothing to fear.

Which does not mean, of course, that the universe is a plant-like octopus reaching out to grab you.

Morning of December 8, 1969. Monday.

Dream #: 1,085-02. Reading time (optimized): 1 min.



This dream scene is the final and most vivid of an incomplete narrative about Brenda and I using an elevator inside a tree to visit an underground world. The elevator operator is probably a Munchkin (of about my height - note that I was eight years old when I experienced this dream) from “The Wizard of Oz” (1939). The setup is similar to the one the wizard uses. The tree has a doorway at ground level but is otherwise a version of the tree in the northwest corner of West Elementary School’s playground. There is a cheerful mood. I sense it is early morning.

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My dream interprets my status of becoming more aware during the waking process as having been underground (asleep).

My dream interprets my instinctual awareness of being in REM sleep and its temporary condition of sleep atonia as my dream self being inside an imaginary tree because a tree is immobile.

My dream interprets my liminal anticipation of becoming more aware, both consciously and physically, during the waking transition, with the use of an elevator. It is a transition from the immobility of the tree.

The Munchkin is the modulatory personification of the vestibular system correlation of the waking process.

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My dream was also influenced by “The Night of the Green Terror” episode of “The Wild Wild West.” Dr. Loveless (Michael Dunn, the dwarf, dressed as Robin Hood), had an underground tree hideout accessed via a door. Even so, there was no negative undertone at any point in my dream.

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Morning of September 13, 1979. Thursday.



This dream is from 1979; September 13th, wife’s birthday; and of which there are earlier and later versions. My first journal title for this was “I Don’t Wanna Be a Tree!”

Evidence studied and validated as of Sunday, 26 July 2015 shows that the original (prototype version) also fell on the morning of September 13th (1970, coming before my “Tornado” dream) and was apparently influenced by a repeated episode of “My Three Sons” titled “It’s a Woman’s World” during the last part of my last awake period. The following synopsis was given in the newspaper: “Steve find’s himself cast as a tree in Dodie’s school play, more or less proving Robbie’s point that females are instinctive manipulators”. This is somewhat amusing in that I presently have three sons.

My dream primarily involves my best friend Toby T and I mostly mowing or raking leaves in what seems to be a deserted and seemingly isolated area on the top of a hill. At times, though, my “mystery girl” appears in shadow and silhouette in the background. Toby and I seem to be working in the middle of the night at times. It vaguely seems like a version of my sister’s house on Loomis Street where I was staying when my wife and I first made contact, though smaller (although it also seems partly modeled after the Chipmunk Coulee house).

As time passes, Toby makes suggestions that the property is owned by a witch but that she has somehow transformed into a tree (supposedly accidentally).

Eventually, I seem to have strong feelings for the “mystery girl” and am eventually turned into a tree myself, seemingly being at the same location of the original and only tree in the area. Toby does not seem to notice even though I yell for a short time to get his attention. I hope that I will not be “trimmed” or “chopped down” in my future. I seem to be the only tree around for some distance, although there are smaller shrubs and such in the area. It is late fall and there are a lot of leaves everywhere on the ground but I see no leaves on “my” own branches.

Toby sits down and starts reading from a book, “I think that I shall never see a poem as lovely as a tree”. I become annoyed and try to move, but he takes it as some sort of “haunting” signs and goes elsewhere (but is still working in the general area. Meanwhile, the mystery girl is human and it seems that I have taken her place as a tree (to “free her”) and I wonder what will happen to Toby. She seems to be dressed in a sort of “cavegirl” outfit, or perhaps a bikini made of pieces of bark.

I have changed the status to “precognitive” as it features the “mystery girl” (my yet-to-be wife, with the same appearance as to real life though I had not yet seen her in reality) and it had some valid associations (not all of which are here online) including the area she lived in Nimbin when younger in reality that I could not have known about in any way.

Night of December 16, 1966. Friday.



This was recurring from when I was very young. I believe there were a few versions that occurred in the middle of the night. In one version, in one journal, I had decided that the opossums may actually be small foxes (even though that really was not very reasonable), so I wrote a poem called “Foxes in the Trees” in real life, yet later decided that I should not change things, so I came to have an internal self-fulfilling symbolism of the opossums being the “princes of the trees”. Being watched by mysterious animal eyes is probably a universal theme in children’s dreams regardless of race or culture, but I am only guessing that based on my own early experiences in dream work.

It is late at night and I am in the woods, I assume in an area of Chipmunk Coulee farther from where I had actually lived in that region.

I am near a tree in which there are a few opossums on the branches but all I can see are their eerie glowing eyes (and in later versions, the lighter heart-shaped areas of their faces). It seems these opossums are some sort of guardians that are supposed to follow me and protect me in some unknown way. I pretend not to notice them because I do not want to cause trouble or perhaps draw attention to myself in this unfamiliar landscape.

In the distance is a long, winding path of an unusual (almost a sequence of Z-shaped turns) path where some areas seem to be dead forests. The moon (or sun in a rather “bad” dream rendering?) seems to be a black shadow hanging in the sky rather than the “real” moon or sun. This unusual area seems to be very similar to my “Empty Boots” dream found here: http://blue-opossum.tumblr.com/post/...75/empty-boots