non-lucid

Morning of December 3, 2019. Tuesday.

Dream #: 19,342-02. Reading time: 1 min 40 sec.



My dream begins with the instinctual anticipation of wall mediation, the usual maneuvering between dream space and waking space. There is no imaginary proprioception as cognitive arousal dominates my transition in this case. I sit on a bed in an unknown location without my waking-life identity. I read details in a newspaper for two television shows. I am to participate in the filming of a new series that involves a casual conversation with a celebrity. The “gatekeeper” (personified preconscious) between dream space and waking space is an unfamiliar Australian actor.

I stand up when I see the word “EXCITE” flashing in midair (an instinctual association with cortical arousal). Even though I am in an indoor setting, the whole wall is open directly to the street, and an oncoming jeep is carrying the actor to my location. The preconscious simulacrum is a passive rendering. He sits on the bed as we talk about the conditions of his environment. “What is it like to live in such a hot, dry climate,” I ask him - as if I live in a different region. He talks about himself and his status. At this point, I notice a big cardboard box near the bed (compartmentalization of the process) that contains outdoor features such as grass, rocks, and small shrubs. There is also a seemingly tame Australian possum running around in the box. This feature is meant to induce recall of my waking life, as Zsuzsanna had a pet possum while we were writing to each other, but the heat (in real life) makes cortical arousal sluggish. Instead, I ask the man if all possums are as tame as this one. He answers in the negative. He seems slightly impatient.

The processing changes back to cognitive. The simulacrum subsides for a time. I read about the actor in his fictitious television series from years previously, though the preconscious process heightens to the imaginary inference of intrusion. I read the name of the show as “Bryant’s Bandits” (typical redundant dream state phonetics like “Tony Karoni” from years ago).

I instinctually try to reinduce my dream with water reinduction as virtual melatonin mediation. I teleport to a big lake. The actor is seemingly filming a new episode of “Bryant’s Bandits,” which is about men on a submarine with him as the captain, though they are not criminals but military. He stands atop the submarine while his men stand on the shore. The sleep-wake mediation becomes preconsciously authoritative, so I let myself wake into another hot day.

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Morning of November 27, 2019. Wednesday.

Dream #: 19,336-02. Reading time (optimized): 1 min.



In this dream, Zsuzsanna and I are living in the Cubitis house (a one-floor single-family home) in Florida, though the layout is different. There is a storm approaching from the west. When I look outside, I see it is night. A few equidistant rows of tornadoes are coming down on the other side of the highway, directly above the orange grove. Nothing happens, as they disappear before reaching the front yard.

I go around the side of the house that now features the south side of the Loomis Street house (a two-storey residence for two families) in Wisconsin (which is facing north, the opposite direction it should be by compass direction in respect to its integration with the Cubitis house in this new amalgam). People I do not know are living here. I tell them how the tornadoes disappeared after crossing to our side of the highway.

Later, I am standing in the front yard, looking up. The entire sky looks like a giant motherboard, though there are pairs of what look like satellite dishes and observatories (directed downward). I am puzzled and start to think about how people could have made something so big and so high, and I have a vague wariness about its architectural stability, though I am mostly unconcerned. The Cubitis house now seems like a skyscraper (holding up part of the motherboard sky) and where an orange grove should be is another high building holding it up on the other side, though most of it is expansive.

Morning of November 23, 2019. Saturday.

Dream #: 19,332-03. Optimized 1 minute read.

I maintain my metacognitive awareness of sleeping and dreaming.

My dream self holds the awareness of being in bed at our present address with my memory of my current waking life. However, the details of my environment are incorrect (to prevent associating my dream with real life). I am on my back (though in reality, only my head is upward as I am otherwise sleeping more on my left side).

Zsuzsanna is in our kitchen. I see blue sky through our roof. Our landlord had removed a small square section from it (which would not be possible as a few large sheets of metal serve as our sloped roof that also has a ceiling under it). I catch a glimpse of his face, but he does not regard me. I do not perceive it as an intrusion. After a short time, the area is as it was.

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Variations of this “looking in” narrative have occurred in all sleep cycles since childhood, though it occurs more often with the personification of potential wakefulness associated with a window or a door. I honestly cannot believe some people think this type of content has to have a waking-life “interpretation” each time.

I typically perceive this personification of anticipated wakefulness as more intrusive in my final dreaming experience of a sleep cycle. My metacognitive awareness of my need to eventually wake is most predominant at this time. For people (such as so-called “dream experts”) who cannot comprehend such a self-evident process, I have no words.

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Morning of November 21, 2019. Thursday.

Dream #: 19,330-02. Reading time (optimized): 2 min.



In coming out of slow-wave sleep into REM sleep, cortical arousal is slower (the weather getting hotter), so an Indonesian man (with a barely discernible ghostlike companion) in a small cage on wheels in a desert setting is the result, defining how the mind-body connection and the freedom of physical movement is absent during sleep. My instinctual self, no longer ghostlike, develops into a separate character on a concrete path near an unknown building. I think I might be in Africa or India. Gradually, despite not recalling much of my waking-life identity, I become vaguely aware I am in Australia. However, the presence of mines makes this a questionable factor, as the idea of a minefield in Australia seems unlikely. (This incidental association is a distortion of Zsuzsanna and I watching “China Gate” from 1957.) Another Indonesian male as a result of emerging but divided preconscious dynamics appears.

I assume I may be in Indonesia, though this remains uncertain. Despite the neurological authority of the preconscious simulacrum, I do what I want for the most part. I free the first man from his cage, increasing my imaginary proprioception. I then mentally erase all the mines so we can go where we want.

There are other unknown males. Most of them are without homes. I decide I should make houses for them. Cognitive arousal initiates, though it remains incidental, despite it integrating with the usual wall mediation, and I tell them they can call me on an emergency number if they need to. I write it near the left side of a doorway at chest level. In reality, it is not a telephone number, but from an American address from many years ago. This typical dream state cognitive error stems from it being similar to the real-life emergency number of 911 in America, though in Australia it is 000.

My dream self maintains instinctual threads up until near the end of my dream, with neither lucidity nor my waking-life identity ever being a factor. I mentally cause houses to emerge from the desert. The walls rise from the ground on each side into a vertical position (an obvious analogy to waking and standing), though I do not recall how the roof and other details manifest other than by appearing out of nowhere. The men I am helping soon become miners.

Subliminal acceptance of my status of being asleep comes to the forefront again. The men are sleeping outside near a fence. (It is wall mediation again, though with slow vestibular correlation rather than cognitive as in the earlier event where I wrote the number). The preconscious personification is still present but passive as I talk to him about the men. It seems they had been at a party the night before and drank too much alcohol. One man is especially out of it and drank more than the others. At this point, I slowly wake.

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The last scene represents melatonin mediation. It is disrupted in hot weather and is associated with a need for more.

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Morning of November 13, 2019. Wednesday.

Dream #: 19,322-02. Reading time (optimized): 2 min 30 sec.



The gradual emergence of my instinctual self from slow-wave sleep into REM sleep carries the subliminal goal to achieve consciousness to get up to use the bathroom. My real-life identity is absent. The urge is not that pressing, so my dream self remains distracted within an imaginary realm, requiring considerable preconscious effort to arouse me from sleep due to warm weather.

I had been swimming underwater in an unknown resort hotel to find a bathroom. During this time, an unfamiliar male is also in the underwater hall, swimming several feet behind me. Soon, a big catfish (though not much bigger than me) appears and eats the other male after bumping into him several times. I manage to get into the underwater bathroom and close the door behind me. I consider it might be better to use a different bathroom as I am uncertain if the toilet works.

My dream self passively integrates with the precursory form of wall mediation (that modulates dream sleep into the waking process). The catfish is still outside the bathroom. It tries to eat me and keeps bumping into the door when I have it halfway open as well as striking my body. After a few minutes of battling the catfish, I swim out into the hall, and the catfish simultaneously swims into the bathroom, signifying escaping illusion to achieve wakefulness. I trap it inside by closing the door.

My emerging proprioception (and vestibular system correlation) atypically decreases in the next scene (again, due to the warm weather), similar to the dynamics of a false awakening, where I typically tell someone about my previous dreaming experience, though it is part of the same dream in this case.

While upstairs, I see several members of the public present in the lobby that is not underwater. I tell a male tourist (who is sitting on a couch) about the incident, as I do not see a hotel employee, though one soon arrives. He is unfamiliar and about thirty. I tell him in detail about the big catfish eating the other man. However, there is some uncertainty if the body would still be whole or if he would be in pieces, as I recall the catfish was not much bigger than me.

I become aware of the existence of my youngest son as a thread of my real identity emerges as I grow closer to wakefulness. My dream’s fictitious backstory now includes my son being at the resort with me, and we both need to find a bathroom. However, I start to lose my sense of self by falling back into passive dream meandering, which results in the preconscious pulling me back into the waking process by creating a post-Naiad simulacrum to increase proprioception again.

I realize, as the room grows darker and with decreasing detail with my dulling senses, I had been holding onto something with my right hand and cannot go any farther (or return to slow-wave sleep). It turns out to be the yellow elastic belt of an unfamiliar girl standing at the bottom of a staircase. (Yellow is the color that correlates with emerging consciousness because of its brightness and association with sunrise.) I walk back several feet as my dream vivifies as I once again grow closer to wakefulness. I look at the coil (vestibular system autosymbolism, specifically the cochlea) that covers the palm of my hand, though this is illogical as it implies her belt had an unrealistic amount of slack near the buckle. I apologize to her, making an unlikely excuse that I thought it was the baluster of the staircase I had been holding yet while continuing to walk. She remains cheerful. The stairs are my instinctual cue to wake (though I often use stairs to vivify a dream).

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Morning of November 9, 2019. Saturday.

Dream #: 19,318-01. Reading time: 45 sec.



Bushfires are coming closer to our home, though my dream self does not attain the correct recall of where we live in reality. The location at times resembles a 3rd Street area of La Crosse (rather than anywhere in Australia). I walk through an unfamiliar alley where there are cylindrical metal garbage cans instead of the modern plastic wheelie bins.

There are areas where I see only gray ash and smoke. For some reason, dump trucks are carrying big loads of ashes from different locations. (I see this instead of any firefighting.) I am not in danger at any point, but Coelophysis appear at times, running in random directions. The fire is so extensive that it is burning areas never seen by humans. It is from where these dinosaurs are coming (nonsensical dream “logic,” though it is similar to other dreams where deeper in a forest meant longer ago in history).

A panda climbs out of the reach of one small fire. Lassie and his owner (a young boy) are looking around for people to help. A fishing boat is sitting in the mud, as the water had lowered.

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Morning of November 9, 2019. Saturday.

Dream #: 19,318-02. Reading time (optimized): 2 min 30 sec.



In this dream, my waking-life identity is partly present. I recall the appearance of the rooms in our present house in Australia and remember the current status of Zsuzsanna and our children, but the rooms erroneously appear on the second floor of the King Street mansion in America (where I have not been since 1994). Zsuzsanna and I are moving a bed and couch back to make more space in the lounge room.

I look east out the window over 10th Street and recall my landlady had died, so I consider we will not need to pay the rent we owe. Still, I am uncertain of the status of the house and who else lives here at this time. I falsely recall Leonard S is now living west of the house, about five blocks away. I go out into the hall, wondering if a college student “still” lives across from us. I accidentally bump a switch that turns a radio on. It is attached to the wall that faces the kitchen entrance and is somewhat like a thermostat. I hear static and part of a news announcement, but it is unclear. I try turning it off, but it remains on, so I try again, as I might have moved the wrong slide switch.

I look out through a front window and see there is no porch downstairs, which I consider unusual and wonder when they removed it. I walk down the staircase and see the foyer area is different. It is all open now. Walking outside, I see Leonard S standing on a walkway between two deep culverts (a fictitious feature). There is a small tree with an unusual, curved trunk in each of them. They lean towards each other and resemble normal-sized bonsai trees. Their height matches the depth of the culverts.

I wave at Leonard with my left hand. “How are ya?” I cheerfully ask. I consider it would be pleasant for him to meet my family for the first time. “What happened here?” I ask him as I point at the culverts. He does not replay. I look around and notice most of the first floor of the house is missing on the left side. It is held up by only a few timbers. I can see the underside of the floor of where I live with my family when I look up and become concerned. I did not expect this.

“Looks like this will be my last day here,” I tell Leonard. He does not speak the whole time. I turn and walk back up the stairs. (It is fictitiously direct from the front entrance, without a landing.) I now notice most of the risers are missing, and other parts look splintered and broken. I consider we will have to move soon and wonder how we will get all the furniture out. I wake while halfway up the steps, even though my dream is vivifying (due to vestibular system correlation).

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I have written this many times, but after over 50 years, I continue to be fascinated by the incredible ways dreams scramble memory while simultaneously creating a false narrative yet while also correlating with dreaming and waking processes, often, as here, structured around vestibular system correlation and imaginary proprioception as a result of emerging awareness of physicality in waking, the main factor of dream content.

Leonard is this dream’s vestibular witness. As well as my use of the staircase for proprioception and vestibular system correlation (the most common way I instinctually modulate this process), the culverts are also a factor. The two unusual trees in the culverts represent Zsuzsanna and me sleeping, so there is also evidence Leonard signifies transpersonal communication between Zsuzsanna and me as we sleep, especially as I consider them meeting.

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Morning of November 8, 2019. Friday.

Dream #: 19,317-02. Reading time (optimized): 1 min.



I am sitting at a big counter in an unknown room. There is a mix of technology and ambiguous features. For example, a web page full of thumbnail images covers the left side as if it is a normal rendering, but I soon realize it is a set of small pockets on a sheet of thin plastic, each containing many slides. Each top slide represents a thumbnail image as is currently present on the real web page as on the Internet. The ones underneath are of images that no longer exist on the web page as on the Internet. I am happy to realize this.

Beyond the front of my counter, an unknown woman walks by to my right. I tell her not to walk so close to my work area. She remains cheerful and moves away. At this point, it seems I am in a public building, but I know everything on the big counter is mine. I pick up a black-and-white sketch of Swamp Thing’s face (a DC comic book character).

I walk into a room where Zsuzsanna is sitting at a desk. Also present, seated a few feet apart in chairs facing the desk, are two people. I hold up the drawing of Swamp Thing’s face, saying how weird it is.

I now notice both “people” look like Swamp Thing. I hope I have not angered them. One is male, and one is female, the female on the left, closest to where I am standing. They do not seem angry.

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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 October 5, 2019. Saturday.

Dream #: 19,283-02. Reading time: 1 min 15 sec.



I am in an unknown ambiguous setting with the common factor of indoor-outdoor ambiguity. The area is not well-lit. While it is implied to be outside, I also sense it is inside a big building with a high ceiling. The floor/ground is smooth.

I am pulling a rope from a horizontally-oriented reel on a buckboard wagon. I vividly feel the movements and sensations in my arms as I pull the rope. The wooden vehicle is at least six feet away (facing away), and the reel, its width nearly that of the wagon, is under the seat. The rope is coming from up and behind the reel.

I am guiding the rope at about waist-level to an unfamiliar man who is standing about six feet beyond a cattle fence. He, in turn, is guiding the rope to an unseen man farther away (whom I sense may be sitting or lying down). I am unaware of a backstory that might explain why I am here. Eventually, the end of the rope prevents farther pulling as it is attached to the reel.

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The unseen man is my potential emerging consciousness. The man I am guiding the rope to is my preconscious (the personification of my reticular activating system and vestibular cortex) though here as a subliminally summoned vestibular witness (for correlation and potential coalescence). The buckboard wagon is autosymbolism for my physicality while in the dream state (as all single vehicles often are). The rope, attached to the reel/“real” ends because my dream self’s fictitious mental model cannot move my real physical body. In this case, the fence is autosymbolism for the virtual division between subliminal and liminal space, though typically the division between subliminal or liminal space and wakefulness. The reel is under the seat of the wagon as an association with being able to get up. (In this case, there is no drop or anticipation of one.)

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Morning of October 01, 2019. Tuesday.

Dream #: 19,279-02. Reading time (optimized): 2 min.



Wall mediation (precursory): My imaginary dream self integrates into a typical wall mediation scenario (that occurs at least once each sleep cycle). Despite the vividness and my instinctual attention to the process, my identity is mostly absent at first. There are several unfamiliar people present with me (to my right, waking orientation when on my left side) in an undefined room, though I do not look at them. I am close to a wall of a yellowish cream color, near where it meets a corner. The paint is densely cracked but not flaking. It seems there may be a haunted essence (caused by being between dreaming and waking when on a specific ultradian curve).

Wall mediation (waking the sleeper): I mentally open the wall perpendicular to the first and to my left. Inside it (with only enough space to contain standing people who are facing outward) are four soldiers from the eighteenth century in suspended animation (inactive reticular formation), standing side-by-side, about two feet apart. The two leftmost are Asian warriors. The other two are British soldiers. I consider each Asian warrior somehow serves one of the others, though they are seemingly in a deeper state of sleep. The two rightmost soldiers have locks attached to their left arm, though the keys are in plain sight, hanging a short distance from their lock on a small chain (as with the type used to turn on a lightbulb by pulling on it, rendering this autosymbolism as an obvious play on becoming conscious). The keys have wing insignias (with at least three bars of shorter length from top to bottom) oriented left, similar to the left half of an aviation badge (a static flight association implying a soft awakening from sleep). I unlock the soldier second from my right (as he correlates with my position in bed, with the rightmost soldier a distorted - but changing - awareness of Zsuzsanna) but I wake before unlocking the rightmost one.

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Despite my dreams always using the same simple autosymbolism (typically in the same order) representing co-occurrence with the transitions throughout the sleep cycle, there are often threads of incredible, enigmatic space. The first thing I saw after waking, I did not expect. It was the “Space Seed” episode of “Star Trek” (the twenty-second episode of season one) where warriors on an old spaceship (“Botany Bay”) came out of suspended animation with the help of Captain Kirk and his crew. (I must point out I hardly ever watch television at this time, and I knew nothing about the station’s schedule.)

It is not unusual for the preconscious to personify as either authority or as the indicator of being asleep. What makes this correlation more defined is that the episode has sleeping warriors (including Asian) that serve another nationality (Khan), and a crew waking them from a sleeping chamber in a wall.

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“Time stops every time I stop and remember you. Oh Suzannah you dream for all who are displaced by foreign call. Oh Suzannah, oh sent to Botany Bay.”

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Morning of September 25, 2019. Wednesday.

Dream #: 19,273-02. Reading time: 1 min 45 sec.



Post-induction: I am watching television in our present home though it changes to include a fictitious variation of the front yard of the Barolin Street house in the final scene. Zsuzsanna is with me at times. There is also a precursory preconscious simulacrum (as an unknown woman of about fifty) though vestibular dynamics (as well as cortical) remain inactive.

Distorted remnants: The Naiad factor returns at a residual but distorted level. Two characters on a television show seem modeled after Zsuzsanna and me. Snow and wavy lines appear with static as the broadcast signal is weak. A cartoonish mermaid swims left on the screen (direction of induction orientation).

Liminal dynamic as unusual imaginary eyes occurs (emerging liminal awareness of being in REM sleep). A young version of Eline Powell (from “Siren,” though only about ten in this scene) appears on the screen with a fixed gaze. The girl is supposedly the fictitious daughter of our “other selves” on the television series, though it seems as if she was just suddenly born ghostly as she is here. The eyes appear gray and layered, with too much sharpness. Nothing is threatening at any point. I remain puzzled, but in the back of my mind, I cannot recall anything about this process (usually the case with REM autosymbolism, though only in the second half of the sleep cycle).

Cortical arousal sluggish: I go out to the front yard to see that our illogically big (fictitious) television antenna had blown off our roof and is now on the ground (left side of Barolin Street house when viewing from the front). Zsuzsanna and the unknown woman are with me to my left. I am trying to determine what the scene indicates. All of the dipoles are arcing down toward the ground, vaguely reminiscent of a weeping willow or the water trail from a circular water fountain. At first, I am unsure about what happened. I then consider how difficult it would be to get the antenna back onto our roof. I also see a white jeep. The antenna had almost hit its back, though some of the dipoles hang over it.

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The white jeep represents the potential initiation of imaginary physicality in the dream state (as any vehicle typically does). Without the “antenna working,” there is neither cortical nor vestibular enhancement (nor higher lucidity). Even instinctually, I was not attentive to my dream’s narrative as I was too warm in bed and somewhat uncomfortable at the time. An antenna usually represents co-occurrence with either emerging physicality (potential mind and body connection as this scenario implies), cortical arousal, or transpersonal communication (with another) in enigmatic space.

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Morning of September 20, 2019. Friday.

Dream #: 19,268-02. Reading time: 56 sec.



My oldest son’s Tae Kwon Do teacher is in an area that vaguely reminds me of my middle school (conscious afterthought only). There is a backstory about a contest or sweepstakes. Eventually, an unknown teenage girl shows up and has an angry disposition (though she is seemingly a composite of Zsuzsanna, Ivana Baquero, and Brenda).

She is angry because she does not have sweepstakes entry forms. They relate to Bugs Bunny somehow. I can see the dotted line on the A4 paper, where people add personal details to a coupon. She takes several copies.

When I am more aware of my waking life identity (here as a result of precursory vestibular modulation, though still instinctual), my youngest son and daughter are with me. We get on a bus that the teenage girl is going to drive. (We are the only people on the bus other than the driver.) The setting now seems to be Toombul Shoppingtown. However, the bus is on a fictitious second-level parking lot. She drives to the edge without stopping, and the bus drops a full level to the perpendicular street below. Instinctually, I am unconcerned (and have subliminal control of the process at this point), and after the vehicle’s short flight, we continue as if nothing had happened.

I look through documents in a suitcase (cognitive arousal) in an unknown location with a group of people. Old dream journals are also in it.

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Morning of September 13, 2019. Friday.

Dream #: 19,261-01. Reading time (optimized): 1 min.



I enter an instinctually motivated dreaming experience of watching a train in Brisbane in the late morning (anticipation of vestibular modulation). Several unknown people are present. Instead of boarding it, I continue to stand in the area and watch it leave.

I decide I may get the train after all and manage to catch up when it makes a stop. The setting is now rural, and the train seems to have become a ramshackle shed. Welding sparks from an unseen welder scatter from beyond the other side of one corner to the right (neural synchrony).

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This dream stems from the same process as “Typewriter Train.” I was flying over a train that screeched and suddenly stopped. The front of the train was a giant black 1940s typewriter (potential cognitive arousal). The train had run out of track and dug slightly into the ground.

Another version of the same process occurred in “Helicopter Digger.” While a friend and I were fishing, a helicopter came down, and its rotor blades dug into the ground.

The first dream’s last scene is consciousness initiation and emerging from the dream state (neural synchrony in waking point modulation as emerging sparks as analogous with fire, lightning, and electricity).

The second dream is vestibular modulation transitioning to potential cognitive arousal, but with the association of needing physicality to relay information (typewriter). (The mind and body must connect to wake and move.)

The third dream is vestibular modulation transitioning to the anticipation (or desire) of returning to slow-wave sleep.

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Morning of July 25, 2019. Thursday.

Dream #: 19,211-02. Reading time (optimized): 2 min.



I am in an unknown location watching a video of Ray Romano cheerfully shopping in public. He keeps making puns. He picks up a can of peas, places it near his left ear, and talks about “finding peace.” He picks up a pear and talks about “finding a pair, yet there is only one.” He picks up a comb, talking about his “parting.” He picks up a can of beans, mentioning something about not “spilling the beans.” He picks up a packet of tea bags, saying, “I found the T before you (U).” There are more puns I do not recall.

Eventually, I am at the location with an unknown female who remains on my right. I try to recall what he said, writing it down on a sheet of paper. When I try to read what I wrote, some is gibberish, some scribbled out, some clear. I had gone back to the beginning of the event, except now it is “real” and not a recording.

I meet Ray before he starts making his puns. I realize that I have altered the timeline by being present while he is shopping, as my presence redirects his attention. Still, I talk about the puns he will be making. I tell him about one he made about a diaper (and where it was in the store), but I cannot recall what he said. I explain to him that I am from the future. He repeats the pun about “finding peace” but not much else.

Ray leaves. An unknown male is now present on my right, and I tell him I am from the year 7230. He doubts me. I lead him out to the parking lot to show him my evidence, and it seems to be the afternoon. On my left wrist is a watch with a dome atop it. Under the wristband, held by it, is a long scrap of thin cardboard with writing.

The small dome contains images that I project as a life size monochrome hologram into the parking lot. We walk to it. There is a statue of a female angel or goddess (with wings) on a high structure. It is Nike. There is a holographic image of a 2018 Lamborghini.

The male seems amazed as we approach the holographic dome. Soon, it becomes “real.” The car, now mostly blue, moves out on its own (with no driver). Everything now has color. There is also what looks like a Cessna cockpit. A dark-haired girl (about ten), who sits in the right seat, turns her head toward us to happily talk about the equipment and life in the future. (An unfamiliar woman on her left does not move or speak.)

We walk through the mall. The male asks me about how people think in the future. I tell him people have minds that contain much knowledge in a “holographic matrix” that surrounds their brain (and location). He asks me about crime. I tell him that they eliminate criminals when found, without trial. I wake.

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