Blue_Opossum

Morning of February 10, 2020. Monday.

Dream #: 19,411-02. Reading time (optimized): 2 min.



This fantasy-driven dream is full of intriguing surreal imagery and events, but I am only able to describe some of the more eventful scenes. The narrative involves a witch and her friends and a young man who is investigating them and trying to stop them. I am not a part of any scene until imaginary proprioception and the typical personification of the preconscious initiates.

The young man has a key to a room at the top of a staircase in the witch’s castle. Before he goes in, a friend downstairs warns him that she is approaching, but he remains unseen.

I watch a ritual where the witch and about ten others sit outside in a circle at night. The young man, from a distance, does something to cause events to go wrong for them. The people deliberately fall over to their left to become ashes in the form of a human body but are supposed to be alive again in a short time. However, two do not live again, and the witch and her friends seem puzzled. The witch and one of the others, an unknown male, now have heads that look like the bottom half of an empty hard-boiled eggshell with a simple crown-shaped circumference, yet they are still alive, and their faces otherwise look human. (The imagery is quite surreal here.) They now decide to leave and turn into crows, flying away, leaving the others behind.

During the day, one of the witch’s friends changes into a rhinoceros and chases the young man through a field. The man jumps, and the rhinoceros is seemingly crushed by a jeep. Members of the public gather in an unknown urban area. The young man looks at the sky and effortlessly flies into the air. He soon transforms into a jet. Eventually, two giant boys, their heads reaching the sky, makes the jet appear about the size of a Matchbox car as it flies around. My dream self becomes integrated into my dream as if I am only now part of the narrative.

My waking-life identity initiates. I recall who I am and that I am married. I walk into a grocery store with Zsuzsanna, but it seems to be closing, and the lights are out. I become aware of my imaginary physicality, and my dream vivifies as a result. An unknown male, probably the store’s manager, stepping from behind a cashier’s area, talks about a “surprise celebrity” as part of a publicity gimmick for the store, though it is not meant to occur until tomorrow.

I walk to a hall with a door to a staircase on one side. Kiefer Sutherland is sitting near the bottom of the staircase (as this dream’s vestibular system personification, though unlike many previous dreams, I do not use the staircase to increase imaginary proprioception, though my dream is most vivid at this point). He seems hesitant to shake my hand. I eventually talk him into it. Somatosensory dynamics increase, resulting in bringing me out of my dream.

---

Morning of December 20, 2016. Tuesday.



I am at our present address on W Street near the west side of our house on the public footpath. It seems to be morning. There had been signs of a light rain. I notice that the Wicked Witch of the East must have been in a storm (though not in our area, at least with any perceived backstory) and blown our way in that the NBN cabinet near our house had fallen upon her (which is not logical, as the NBN cabinet is set upon concrete and shows no signs of having been removed or damaged). I know this is true because her ruby slippers have been sticking out from under the cabinet for probably a day or two. They stick out from the right side of the NBN cabinet.

It may be important to inform people of this. I look more closely and bravely feel the supposed ruby slippers, which are actually more like red fishing boots. They are of a floppy rubbery material. Perhaps the remains are not actually present.

---

This dream presents failed flight waking symbolism, one of my most common forms of waking symbolism since early childhood, which is unrelated to waking life, and as such, does not imply any negative connotations. It establishes a form of “return flight” as related to the hypnopompic stage (which is rendered as such in over twenty percent of my dreams or 1 in 5 in tens of thousands), which sometimes induces a falling sensation (which is biological and unrelated to waking life). It is unreasonable to assume real life associations with such precursory symbolism relative to hypnopompia.

In this case, the position of the implied body (though the body itself is not seen or touched) is in a sleeping position, a real-time dream state indicator. Once again, the waking symbolism is oriented on the right.

The detail of the red fishing boots establishes three well-known dream state indicators simultaneously, red as a known presence of waking priority (especially in dreams which become completely red, which means I have been sleeping too long), boots that are not being worn (as one does not wear shoes when in bed), and residual water induction remnant (in being fishing boots or waders).

Additionally, there is the implication of the NBN cabinet representing technology, communication, and intelligence as symbolizing the conscious self over the fictional dream self or the remnants of the ephemeral dream self at the waking point.

Additionally, it is unreasonable in this case to assume the “witch” is related to waking life by specifics, for three main reasons. One, the “witch” herself does not even appear in this dream. Two, the “witch” is a fictional character from the “Wizard of Oz”, and my association validates this entire dream as primarily a real-time dream state indicator. Remember that “The Wizard of Oz” is about someone being knocked unconscious and having a dream. Three, it is fantasy, and fantasy symbolism is based on creativity, not life-relevant symbolism.

---

Morning of June 9, 2015. Tuesday.



I have had more vampire-related dreams in the past month than I have had in my lifetime, which is hardly any as stated several times before. In this one, which is fairly vivid though not lucid, I am also a young female, which I suppose sounds unusual to the inexperienced. Then again, considering I dream fairly often of being a letter of the alphabet or a rune (as well as having been vehicles, including a bus - and even a building), the situation is moot.

In this dream I mostly fly around showing my fangs to anyone who annoys me and sometimes creating lightning from my fingertips. My flying position is typically upright, though sometimes diagonal. There is a scene where I take the heads off of several males and roll them across an area in a parking lot near a storefront, like a bowling ball. I am not exactly sure what I look like, though after a time, my dream takes on a new theme.

The only familiar characters at any point are my best friend from school days (Toby T) and my wife’s mother. There is a strange changeover in emotion. I “know” I am female, though there is a point where doubt begins to grow. I am at a movie theater (prior to seeing any known characters) where everyone else is nude, and I feel very embarrassed about wearing clothes (recurring in-dream situation), especially such a large fancy outfit, so much so, I begin to move away, closer to the theater wall so people will not know I am dressed. I contemplate removing everything I am wearing, but my dream shifts to a different setting and situation.

Somehow, someone “knows” who I am, though the setup makes no sense. I am recognized as an actress by at least two people at some sort of public venue, though apparently actually a male, yet still a female in the movies. As I am standing, even though I get a vague impression I may be male (I feel a small movement which creates the impression of a small animal crawling under my clothes - and seems rather unfamiliar yet somehow “right” and some sort of “evidence” that I may be male), I decide I will be nude from then on to prove my status as a “real” female vampire witch. (This is completely different from the first scenes of my dream in my character focus and overall mood.) I “know” that I will excel in exposing these other people as just gossipers. (Besides, the mouse will probably escape and not be seen anyway - in-dream “logic” - imagine a male part being able to come and go like a small animal with a mind of its own.) My total certainty about this aspect of my dream is a very familiar but ambiguous presence of somehow knowing I am the dream-maker, yet not at all lucid.

In another scene, which seems to be a different dream, I seem to be a male (though still associated with magic and vampirism). I am in some sort of friendly meeting with three unknown females with darker skin, in an undefined building (in a mostly featureless rectangular room and sitting on the floor). Although they seem to like and care about me in what seems an augmented empathic setting, I feel a bit strange (but do not express how I feel) in putting on a pair of pants that are over-sized, the crotch and back area almost bowl-like and almost going up to my chest when pulled fully up against my body. I will certainly need a belt, but at the time, I do not have one. It is difficult to imagine going out in public like this with any sense of dignity. One of the females leaves to go to a public venue. Once again, I feel embarrassed upon wearing clothes in-dream (a lifelong recurring theme, often associated with realizing my pants are an ugly or weird style, sometimes clown-like) even though the three females are dressed informally for the most part and do not appear out-of-place.

Morning of August 1, 2003. Friday.



I have been living in a “tree-house” - deep in extraordinarily beautiful thick, dark woods, miles from any city or even smaller rural area. The tree itself is actually more like a house-like structure. I live with a female that appears to be a “perfectly balanced” composite of my wife (at a younger age) and Brenda W. This appears to be the same composite female (but older here) from another dream where she, as a very attractive dark-haired witch (with just a slight hint of freckles), lived in an orange tree in the southwest corner of the orange grove in Cubitis. We are feigning ignorance of “normal” human life and human habits and mainstream society. We plan to make a movie to show the other denizens of the woods at some point…a “horror” movie about “average” people and their limitations and short attention spans (as well as their potential unpredictable rages over senseless, usually fictional, beliefs).

After time passes, I feel a somewhat tentative urge to explore a human city. I and a few others wander out from the woods, looking for signs of possibly frightening evidence of humans, eventually hoping to find the theme that can be viably used in our project. We come to a larger town. There is an area where a car drives slowly around, giving the strong impression of a prowling but mindless panther. We hide behind various fences just out of its reach. The city is uncomfortably weird and with potential of unexpected shadows of people (both “friendly” and potentially dangerous) appearing seemingly out of nowhere. We spend what seems a considerable time trying to work out if a parked car is occupied by one or two people or is merely empty.

Various small empty plastic bags (from potato chips and such) from vending machines seem to appear at random on the grassy areas adjoined to the sidewalk, causing one member of our group to become nervous. “That wasn’t there before!” they shout. Perhaps the wind just blew some of the pile from down the street. A dog barks, and someone screams. A bottle flies through the air from a drunk and is dodged by a team member. We go to study a broken hubcap near the middle of the street. We study it to determine if it has magical properties. It has an essence of the “wheel of fortune”.

There is a rumor that live human beings are walking about in unknown parts of the city. Terrifying. There is shadow play and there are false signs. We hear off-key singing. A group of drunks (unseen) are meandering near the railroad tracks area.

“Do you have the map?” someone asks. The map is like implied infrared images that somehow appear on what seems to be normal paper. Each image is of a person who is awake and walking or driving somewhere in the region. A member of the team, for some reason, still does not believe in human beings and claims that the reddish glows moving on the map are actually fireflies.

Every now and then (recurring since childhood) there is a vague impression of the shadows of giant rats (but never the rats themselves) moving across larger wooden fences near abandoned buildings, with an additional concern about random barbed wire in possible areas we try to move through. Ugly images of graffiti are horrendously splattered across the urban landscape, almost like an uneasy perception of unconscious occult ritual with the opposite intent of what is implied relative to the closeness of the images to each other - much like combining the wrong medicines in a given time period.

“There is nothing more frightening than walking through a town full of people,” comments a friend. I am inclined to agree. There is feigned concern and funny business over apparently losing our camera and film when it also seems we did not have any to begin with. Ugly billboards show smiling ogres holding up snake-oil. “The map, the map!” someone yells. It is no longer a map, but a napkin.

Over time, not much happens and we decide to return to the safety of the deep, dense forest. Even so, I decide to use an abandoned army jeep to make the trip faster. As we drive, I notice a strange, miniature wyvern that is more like just a partly moving woodcut design floating through the air, fairly high above us, but not posing a threat. It actually appears to be weirdly and incongruously superimposed on the dream itself, which creates a rather odd awareness for a short time, almost like a “watermark” on the actual construct of the dream (the only time I recall of having dreamt of this) in a similar way as a station logo appears over a television show. It seems to lose energy or injure a sketched wing and fall into a pile of abandoned rubbish on the wayside as we drive by the scene.

Before we get back to the forest, my wife (as she is now fully my wife as she is now) makes a remark about how quiet and peaceful “this part” of the city is at night. And I say, very slowly, “yes, it is…” as I awake very slowly with a very blissful awareness.

Synchronicity: A similar image (of a “deep forest”) was on the next user’s dream on the dream catcher site (with only one code number between the entries. Links here (15244 was offset originally - so the two images originally appeared together when posted):

http://dreamcatcher.net/blueopossum/15243

http://dreamcatcher.net/meghan_oona/15245

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.

Morning of August 31, 1969. Sunday.



I am possibly in an unknown region of southwest Florida near a smaller lake, though it could also be inclusive of partly distorted (memories of) areas of Chipmunk Coulee where I had moved from in Wisconsin (though I had lived in Florida before, prior to that first move as well, until around three years of age). There are not many events; mostly just shifts of mood regarding the vivid imagery over time. Regarding this dream, I had written a story (a few versions over several years, in fact), but the later utilized implications were not known at the time of my dream. Thus, my dream was seemingly sending a rather ambiguous message, or so it seemed at the time, if you consider I did not consciously “grasp” the main scenario of “surrender” vs. “stay away from my territory”.

As well as the somewhat familiar lake scenery, I am also on the outskirts of town and in a clearing near the perimeter of a dense forest. There is some sort of local legend of a witch living deep in the forest, likely near the center of it. A large shrub has a white flag tied to it seemingly to indicate that the witch claims the forest as hers. It is on the edge of the forest and to the right of a tree.

Later on, the meaning seems to be different and I then get the idea that the white flag means that the witch is “surrendering” to progress and encroaching property developers. (I never actually see the witch; I only hear friends speaking about her and her flag - and I assume her to be of the Halloween-associated “bad witch” type.) I probably had developed the idea of the white flag from movies, but perhaps I did not perceive it as meaning to surrender. In fact, again, in my dream, it seemed a bit ominous as a sort of “obvious” visual warning (and perimeter marker) to “keep away” at first - the opposite of the “real” meaning. I see the outcome as obviously incongruous, perhaps during a time of slower learning processes where dreams are often inherently wrong about real-life associations due to not yet knowing societal associations or certain word meanings. One possible association from years ago related to occultism and superstition “surrendering” to consensus or modern mainstream society.

Some of the imaginative detail seems to have come from the idea of playing golf, oddly enough. (I did not really watch golf on any regular basis, however.) The flag in my dream was, at one point, vaguely similar in appearance and orientation as in golf (though with no number and not a pennant as in some cases with golf). You also see people hit a ball into the woods (or just on the perimeter) in some golf games.

---

Update Wednesday, 20 January 2016: This dream is of the liminality type because the main theme is relative to a perimeter, or implied barrier on level ground (in contrast to lower or higher “barriers” or setting features). This is a lifelong but sparsely recurring dream design and type of setting. It seems to be relevant to metaphorical divisions of consciousness concerning the dream self’s level of access and other aspects of consciousness in the dream state. The forest here is the “Enchanted Forest” of the deepest imaginative state of the dream self (my most desired dream setting), where “magic still works” - “magic”, here, being analogous to apex lucidity. The white flag first implies “do not go in”, later to imply “I surrender”. It is almost as if the power of creativity and imagination, along with individuality (here presented as a form of isolation) is succumbing to consensus, or more specifically, the fully conscious self. On a much simpler level of possible meaning, it may represent the state between waking and sleeping (the clearing representing wakefulness and the forest representing the dream state).

---

Morning of March 16, 1978. Thursday.





Dream Series: The Experience of Prescience, the Inexplicable Dream State Phenomenon. Part 5

---

A very attractive girl with green eyes and dark curly hair (who seems mostly of a composite of about ten percent Brenda and the rest, my “mystery girl”, who turned out to be Zsuzsanna) is living in an eerie-looking small house that is also somehow part of the orange tree in the southwest corner of the orange grove in Cubitis. I somehow had not noticed it before within the supposed history of my dream’s backstory, which seems to have been over a period of at least a month. There seems to be a long time period where I am mostly just thinking about this unusual structure and wondering if anyone lives there. (In actuality, it is a more realistic rendering of the tree house of “Miss Suzy” by Miriam Young, and an additional association with “Old Black Witch” by Wende and Harry Devlin. These are two books I treasured as a child, but so much so, I actually later mentally combined them into the same story.)

The girl and I later sit together on the concrete flower box (outside the front west jalousie windows of my room and where my mother mostly grew coleus blumei). She sits on my right. We talk for seemingly a long time about various subjects, as if we had been very good friends for a long time. I am very comfortable next to her despite her amazing beauty. She tells me that she had often been called a “bad witch”, partly because she was born on a Friday the thirteenth (in September). I want to reassure her, but I am not sure of the nature of what “bad witch” is implied to mean or her full story.

She attempts to do some sort of magic trick with a passing car that is headed south on Highway Seventeen, but instead of it working out as she had intended (the car changing into something else or changing its color perhaps?), the license plate from the front of a different car comes off, rotates in the air as it travels, and attaches itself to the back of the car she is focused on. I then amusingly say, “You’re kidding”, in a matter-of-fact recognition that she is known as a “bad witch” in meaning that she is not that good at performing magic rather than being “bad” as a person. I then start to teach her powerful magic through the rest of my dream, including some rather pointless juggling of oranges, as well as telekinesis, and she seems happy and grateful.

“Miss Suzy” (though I am not viably aware of the Miss Suzy story influence in my dream) tells me that she will write to me on March 16th in thirteen years, which is the marker for when Michael died in 1974. (It is also when Susan R “broke contact” with me and no longer “sent” as she had since we met, telling me the other girl “had more power”, even though the “mystery girl” was only in my dreams at this time, though it would not have worked out between Susan and I as she was a devout Christian, which is ironic as she was the only viably telepathic person I knew of until I learned Zsuzsanna was a real person). Zsuzsanna, going by Suzi in the shortened form, did indeed write to me on March 16, 1991, though I got her letter several days later. The license plate magic trick that supposedly was not what she intended, seems to be an analogy for contact from one person to another, as a license plate is rectangular and contains letters and numbers as does a posted letter. Zsuzsanna was born on Friday the 13th in September, 1968. It was me who wrote to her mother first in answering her mother’s newspaper advertisement (due to a dream advising me to do this), but Zsuzsanna immediately “recognized” me for who I was (from a photograph I sent her mother) and then wrote to me, also sending me a long poem (“These Lands I Must Travel”) that was identical to the nature of my hypnagogic dreams years previously. The PAIA newspaper was printed in Arcadia, just south of where I lived for years (and at the time of this dream), though somehow made its way to a small town in Australia.

---

Morning of August 25, 1967. Friday.



Location (both in real life and in first versions of dream): Rose Street (and surrounding area), La Crosse, Wisconsin, USA - the apartment building that mostly served as a tavern below (a venue where my father sometimes performed) and apartments above, which was struck by lightning and burned to the ground years later, after I returned to Wisconsin.

Real-life Associations: Wendy the Good Little Witch comic book number 45 as shown here, with, I think, a news agency stamp of August 17th, 1967 (“publish date”, which is sometimes several months ahead the release date, listed as December 1967).

Characters: Me, the young version of Alice Liddell (the real “Alice in Wonderland”, 1852-1934) as Wendy the Good Little Witch in “real” human form (recurring - I cannot presently recall a dream-witch who did not have black hair - she also wore a blue outfit rather than red - sorry Harvey fans, blonde witches just never seemed “right” for some reason), and a few random adults. Interestingly my wife had a very similar haircut around that same age, so that is just another intriguing familiarity, I guess.

This was the first occurrence of the “rain shield”. The first version of the rain shield or “bubble” shield was in the Pepto-Bismol pink I have mentioned in other entries. I could have lived without it, I suppose. I have not had pink as a dominating color in my dreams very often since late childhood. Blue has mostly been the most outstanding. At any rate, it was mostly about being “protected” from the rain in several recurring dreams this way, and it eventually became one of my own recurring dream abilities after moving back to Florida. Sometimes, it was a special wristwatch I wore (when it was not just “mind-power” or magic), which of course was a special variation of the 1967 Omega Seamaster, which could also allow the wearer and anyone he held hands with to walk on the ocean floor (which was less common than the walking and flying in the rain dreams, but to be honest, I actually liked walking and flying in the rain in some other dreams).

The shield was mostly egg-shaped and transparent, extending out about three feet from me and whoever I was with. I still had one dream of it now and then at age twelve. These were some of my more vivid and (lucid) self-reflecting dreams, which were eventually “replaced” by the flying in a cloak in the dead of night dreams - which tended to have the same overall amazing mood and feelings of peace and bliss.

Historically speaking, this was the day (25th) that a certain Nazi Party founder was killed at a laundromat in the US. Not knowing any better, I told an older girl (D. Rockwell) I knew at the time how sorry I was that her father was shot at the laundromat. Obviously, this was no close relation, so she looked at me in a very puzzled manner.

Night of February 18, 1966. Friday.



When I lived on Rose Street in Wisconsin, I had a few dreams of there being a large swimming pool that took up nearly the entire back lot area, and was fenced in with an unusually high wooden fence (which I doubt could exist as such in reality). Samantha from the “Bewitched” series would visit on a broom (although she did not fly on a broom much in the actual series). The moon sometimes looked cartoon-like, or rather, like a colored-in yellow crescent with no detail, and the sky a deep blue - even with five-pointed and four-pointed stars instead of “real” ones. Since I saw the opening so often, I guess it had a lot of influence.

---

Added online personal notes on Wednesday, 6 July 2016: This dream is a great example of one that holds moon induction, water induction, and a typical flight symbol. Even the fence represents a more defined liminal space.

Morning of February 10, 1974. Sunday. (Could have started to develop the night prior - before midnight, on February 9.)



My original dream journal title of this entry was “Ghosts”. I had somewhat carelessly drawn some of the imagery (the witch, the shirtless man, and the cloaked figure) and took it to school, but no one was interested.

In this very vivid and lucid dream, I had “stepped into my dream” simply by “getting off the couch I had been napping on” (although knowingly remaining asleep) and was heading south through our hallway. There was a very heightened awareness of energy and expectation - my target was the back door of our house that I often went through in lucid dreams, although in real life it was rarely used (much like the carport door from my bedroom). A short, rather small female (perhaps younger than I) walked out of my father’s old room from my right. She was wearing what looked like a cross between a full fancy wedding outfit and a classic Halloween witch costume, but it appeared all in white with a slightly bluish tint in the shadowy areas, including the glowing skin (similar to photographic negatives or tulpa templates where any light seems to come from inside the source if reflected onto it in the normal positive image). I am somewhat afraid, but not fully nervous; it is my dream after all, so I approach her. I notice that she has no eyes to speak of. Mostly, it is only wrinkles where her eyes should be, which go in rows down her cheeks, even though she seems fairly young. It actually looks a little like two vertical rows of gills down from where her eyes should be (much like the underside of a manta ray) - almost down to her mouth. I feel amazing tingling sensations as if sparks are hitting me from her presence alone. The power from her seems to make me fly backwards back down the hallway as sparks move about. She does not make any sound, but there is sort of an awareness of buzzing and a feeling of electricity everywhere. Some words come to mind like “her face was adumbrated” as if part of a story when I had first seen her more closely.

A little later, two other figures appear in the living room, Lyle Waggoner (the actor) and seemingly a man from the 13th century not wearing a shirt and carrying chains (although this is ambiguous, as Lyle seems to be that character at one point - seemingly the vampiric man from “Castle of Blood”). This part is more of a normal dream awareness not remotely as vivid as the hallway part. Lyle has an axe and it eventually ends up on the south end of the couch, but there is no blood or danger at that point, only the suggestion of such. I seemed to wake up (false awakening) into a vivid state of awareness and noticed that there was a pair of scissors at the end of the couch and thought it was interesting how my dream had changed scissors into an axe. However, I was still in the dream state. When I did wake up, there were not any scissors at all, even though I seemed to have some sort of false memory that there was throughout the night. For some reason, it seemed to be closely related to the Barbara Steele movie “Castle of Blood” (Danza Macabra) from 1964 (of which I was a big fan of since very young) but looks more like her character (in dress and presence, anyway) from “The Pit and the Pendulum”, but it did not really share much other than a loose idea about ghosts reliving their last day, which seemed to imply that I was supposedly a ghost in my dream as well, also odd that Lyle (known mostly only as a comedic actor at the time with Carol Burnett) appeared here as such.

There is also another part of my dream that seems to be possibly a different dream or “reset”. It involves another supposed ghost (but Grim-Reaper-like) that is like a green-cloaked figure (no face visible) sitting on the couch. It is non-threatening but I sense the word “abhorrence” in my mind.

---

This dream has a very similar subtle “summoning” essence as my “Silver Manta” dream (in that I was aware on one vague level that I was deliberately bringing forth the being). The silvery glowing ghostly witch of course represents the moon as a circadian rhythm event, extraordinarily vivid here and with an odd intense level of lucidity. The main difference between the two dreams is that I do not “defeat” this being to instigate waking, which instead leads to a sense of healing, intense energy, and augmented “moon induction” in continuity. Eventually, this dream becomes offset into other patterns and is quite long because of its nature. The witch ghost and the silver manta are the same unconscious archetype which is evidenced by the fact that the witch ghost also has manta ray gills down each side of her face rather than normal eyes though she also represents the essence of my wife-to-be on one level.

---

My wife Zsuzsanna was born on a Friday the 13th and as such, people have made sarcastic comments about her being a witch (especially because of all the unusual events associated with both of us growing up), and that she is smaller than average as with the figure in my dream, but it is probably not directly related, although interestingly, I did come to Australia on February 9th (1994). At the time of the dream, I think there may have been some sort of association with the name Wendy, which was the name of the first “girlfriend” I had when around age six, and not just because of the Wendy comic books I enjoyed (and she had curly dark hair).