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Morning of May 27, 2017. Saturday.



Prefatory notes (sine qua non; for debunking false systems of “interpretation”):

My dream’s title is a deliberate alteration of “A Streetcar Named Desire” by Tennessee Williams but it is not meant to reflect my dream’s content.

It is important to comprehend that an intersection when featured in my dreams is autosymbolic of RAS (reticular activating system) mediation and synaptic gating, of which indicates the subliminal (other than when viably lucid) choice of returning to deeper sleep or waking up.

It is important to comprehend that a singular vehicle when rendered in my dreams is typically autosymbolism for the real physical body as subliminally perceived through the veil of sleep. This will be more obvious with this dream, as the bump is actually felt through the car I am driving. Additionally, a pickup truck is a known dream state indicator (since early childhood) due to the association with its “bed”.

Zsuzsanna sleeps on my left, though waking autosymbolism is typically oriented to my right within the dream state.

Understanding the above prefatory notes should aid in comprehending this dream’s meaning as waking autosymbolism, which is what the majority of dreams are.

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I become aware of my dream self while driving a car in an unknown neighborhood in late afternoon. The driver’s side is on the left, so America seems implied as the country of the otherwise unknown location. It is mainly a residential area, though there seems to be a few small commercial buildings on the street behind me and perpendicular to the one I am presently on. My beautiful wife Zsuzsanna is with me in the front seat.

Up ahead, located at about half the length of the street, there is a streetcar that is not on rails. It is on the left side. On my right is a truck. I consider that there may not be enough space to drive between them. This would mean that the street must be narrower than a typical street, but it is not implied to be by my dream self’s otherwise typically distorted perception.

I drive between them and there is an intriguing brushing and pleasant bumping effect that I can feel through the car and my body, as if I rubbed against the streetcar while going through (with an ambiguous feeling of it being both my car and my body that makes contact with it). It is not jolting in any way. It is rather smooth and does not impede my progress.

Looking back, the streetcar (which is empty), starts rolling back toward the intersection and I am aware that I caused this to happen by pushing against it as I had gone through. I am concerned that it may roll into the intersection and cause an accident. This does not happen. Instead, it slows down right at the end of the street and then automatically swings about and turns to the right (from my viewpoint when looking behind me). An unfamiliar man shows up. He seems to be the conductor. The streetcar slows down at this time, soon stopping. He does not seem confused or annoyed by the event. In fact, he starts talking to an unknown female about the streetcar as if nothing had happened.

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Afterword:

As any intelligent person would conclude, this dream was caused by the subliminal awareness of being in bed and asleep with a vague focus on whether there was enough space on our bed for my physical body (often referred to as a “vehicle” in real life) as I was sleeping and actually bumping Zsuzsanna’s body (to my left as in my dream) during the REM waking transition and while she was shifting her body to get out of bed. Many of my previous dreams have held this factor regarding subliminal concern about sleeping space, even in childhood when I was sleeping on my own.

The unfamiliar conductor is the essence of transpersonal interconsciousness. The unfamiliar female is modeled after Zsuzsanna in what is autosymbolic of her personified preconscious being perceived by my dream self in the waking transition. Note that the autosymbolism of RAS is validated by my dream self firstly driving “into sleep”, whereas the perpendicular street behind me was the indication that Zsuzsanna was then getting out of bed at the time, thus validating that the intersection is autosymbolism for RAS mediation.

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Morning of November 6, 2015. Friday.

Dream #: 17,854-02. Reading time: 52 sec.



I am walking with Zsuzsanna and our three youngest children. Our middle son is younger in my dream. We walk east on the south side of a street in an unknown area near a field that is implied to be in Northside La Crosse, several blocks west of Loomis Street. Zsuzsanna is pushing our youngest daughter in a baby pram. Our two youngest sons are in pedal cars. We eventually arrive at an intersection.

Our sons ride down the sidewalk ramp into the street, potentially into oncoming traffic, though the cars are moving slowly and have not reached the intersection. I pull them back and advise them not to cross on their own. Eventually, we all rise into the air and slowly fly over the perpendicular street of the intersection, our sons still in their pedal cars.

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In this dream, I use emerging semi-lucid vestibular system correlation to rise into the air to go above the perpendicular street of the intersection to avoid its oncoming traffic. Zsuzsanna and our three youngest children, ahead of me, also cross in this way (under my liminal intent), our sons in pedal cars, our daughter in a baby pram that Zsuzsanna is pushing. I have often used vestibular system correlation to deliberately initiate the waking process and rise out of my dream.

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In a crowded section of New York City, flames erupt from the sewers as Satan himself rises from hell and bursts through the pavement of the road ahead of me, sending cars flying through the air and people running and screaming in all directions. He has a gang of demons around him, all made of flames, forming a painful looking perimeter of death and destruction around the Devil.

I am holding a dark gray cat, almost black, with white on its face and some of its paws I don't remember picking it up, but it seems to like being held. I cradle it on its back like a baby in my left arm, against my side, and hold its tail out in front of me like a cannon. I aim it at the Devil and make my best "Pew Pew!" noises. Almost like a "pshhyeeeoo!!!" As I make my very best laser noises, bright blue laser beams shoot out of the cats tail. They move through the air at about the speed of a jogger, so Satan easily dodges them.

I run toward Satan, aiming the cat's tail a few paces ahead of him and with "Pew Pew Pew Pew!" shoot four slow moving lasers out of the cat's tail into Satan's path. I almost got him this time! With great enthusiasm I go wild with my best "Pew Pew!" noises, filling the streets and alleys with blue lasers. 'If I shoot lasers everywhere, I can't miss.' I tell myself.

Satan dives behind a sky scraper and out of sight. I pre-fire a few laser blasts from the cat's tail down the next street in case he tries to run for it, and then run down the alley to cut him off before he can get away. He gave me the slip somehow, and I haven't got a clue where to find him now. I find myself at a busy intersection, looking every which way as traffic flows through. Next to me is a fire fighter and a cop. They look at me, then at the cat I'm cradling in my arm, and then at how I'm holding the cat's tail out in front of me with my other hand, and then look back to me.
"Check this out" I tell them as I aim the cat's tail in a harmless direction and say "Pew Pew Pew!" sending three bright blue laser beams slowly through the air.
"That's pretty cool" they tell me.
"I know, right?!"
"Aren't you going to film it or take a picture or something?" The firefighter asks me.
"No, I don't think anyone really needs to know about this. Plus I've gotta get Satan"
They both give me an understanding nod, and I start walking away as I think about where to look.

My friend's mother could control the flight patterns of birds using hand gestures. She used flocks of crows as her personal messengers. She was standing out in a field, moving her hands around, and this huge flock of birds was swarming around and making these insanely complex maneuvers. It was very neat.

I was standing at an intersection in a small town, and a couple of my friends and I were throwing walnuts at passing cars.

I made a movie about a mouse.

Morning of February 15, 2014. Saturday.



I had apparently been working with colored pencils, mostly writing but uncertain of all the content other than having a focus on dreams. Different colors seem to relate to different dream types.

There is a feature of two pencils forming a cross, which seems to have some significance. One is blue, one is red.

I have an association with an intersection, which is a recurring feature in my dreams. It may relate (in this case) to having different views than someone else, or “going in a different direction”, yet in contrast, it also has the implication of meeting or coming together. Thus, there is the aspect of ambiguity.

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Isn't it funny how after I had a lucid dream I had two nights without anything?

Welp, now I had another.

Oh, mind...

It started off with me in Africa with some cousins (We don't have any cousins in Africa, weirdness..). We were walking around a market and bought a watermelon then went on our way. I remember carrying two slices out of five. We came along a mud puddle and we jumped in it. For no reason.

*Memory blindness*

We then came to an intersection. To the left was a slight hill leading back to the marketplace, the front and back were a dirt road. On the left there was a small forest that ended a couple yards ahead. The sky was mostly cloudy, with some patches gray. It was raining.
We met with some guy who was chubby, short, white, and had glasses. Everyone started talking to him except for me, my brother, and my younger cousin. He looked to be about 6 by the way.

I started thinking about this trip. And how the airline ride went. Then I realized; there was no airline trip. I thought I just might have forgotten it, but then I did thought about doing a RC. Then my aunt said "Oh no, I can breathe, its a dream! We're not real!"
I did and RC for myself, and I could breathe! I started thinking about all this stuff I wanted to do, and the task of the month and all.

My mind, kind of got overwhelmed. I could feel it too, that anxiety of wanting to do things. The sky started flashing different colors. I started to remember the DV podcast, then I remembered the "Making out with the ground" trick.
Welp.
I layed down and started, uh, making out with the ground. I will admit, it took my mind off dreaming, I guess because you can't see anything, just dirt. Plus your preoccupied with thinking it'll work. The sky stopped flashing, and everyone looked like they didn't know a thing.

I figured I would go to France. No particular reason. I just haven't gone there before. I then tried to teleport but instead my mind brought up a map of the world. I punched France with my fist, and it took me too another map with a map of France. I popped Paris and it made me turn right. It all seemed like a really badly made video game, but it seemed to do the trick. I walked out, and I could see the Eiffel tower! I was a long ways away though, so I tried to teleport again.

But as we all know, for me, teleporting twice is a death sentence.

My eyes in real life quickly opened, then I realised what I'd done and tried to fall asleep again.

ly it didn't work.

Suzette tries to snatch up my bag for me. Christa M. is there. She is laughing. We realize that it is out of reach. Lakeside. Riverside. It is on a counter in the bathroom of the hotel room. I though Brian was sleeping so I have a cigarette. H says to me calmly, “I though you quit smoking?” I proceed to explain that I have but make a list of reasons to justify my slips. All I want is a soda back at Suzette's house. All I can find is beer. Maya and I leave Laura and Brian at the house, while we go either to the garage or a small store. On the “familiar departure” I remember being lucid enough to realize it's familiarity and also talk myself into opening my eyes for the fast decent downward which otherwise I am too afraid to experience. I feel my stomach jump. I think that it's only a dream. Laura C. and I decide to take a set at a tall round table with stools. Mildly aware that there are at least two people with us. One, a boy, really wants to sit by me. At an intersection we find Laura M. broken down/stuck in her white Jeep and one one seems to be helping her. I also hesitate.

I had very detailed dreams last night that sadly are forgotten. Again, I'm sleeping soundly and without interruptions which is making recall extremely weak.

#1: I woke up at night feeling exceptionally well rested and fresh, although it was still dark. I sprung out of bed and started to move away. Something was amiss. I realized, this is a dream! I turned around to look at the bed and I saw myself laying there asleep next to my GF who suddenly woke up and looked at me with a smile. I said, "This is a false awakening."

I vaguely recall explaining to her how often we have false awakenings in our dreams, as a form of travel...

This may be a later part of the same dream in which I was no longer lucid, or semi-lucid:

#2: I was walking on the street one block down and parallel to my block. It was dark outside. I remember walking past one of my old friends house there and looking in the front window. It was dark inside but I could see the sofa. It was the pull out bed type and I could see blankets a mess as if someone had recently slept there, but gone now. (Remarkably similar to the fragment above.)

I made my way down to the intersection which was mysteriously a garden bursting with strange colorful little plants. I had some sort of watering pail in my hands. I watered several plants and they reacted by moving and glowing. Inside the water pail, there was a potted plant. I could feel the weight of it and see the silhouette. In my reasoning, this was a special plant that fertilized the water in a way that made it extra nutritious for other plants.

There was more to this dream, or additional dreams, because I recall interacting with other people in a downtown area.

I am in a sort of culdesac neighborhood. I am walking down the street and I see a house with three
posts in their yard. I go over to them and for some reason decide to take them out of the ground and
move them. I move each one over a few feet to a patch of mulch. I then walk away fearing that I will
be seen. I walk up the street a bit then back. I glance over at the house and I notice three people
sitting on the front porch. Had they been there all along? It is a father and two sons. I see them get
up and decide it would be best to get out of the culdesac. The father goes across the street to a white
house and then tells the sons to go after me. I run down the road and, as if there is some sort of
game screen change, I am in an alleyway of a large town. The streets are thin and surrounded by
ten foot brick walls on either side. The sun casts a golden light on the whole town. I run through a
labyrinth of 6-foot side-streets joined by a 15-foot road. It is very complex and confusing but somehow
I know exactly where to go. I come out onto an intersection of two major roads. I forget about the boys
chasing me and remember I have to go to class. I see a friend from college and she asks me what time
it is. I reach in my pocket but my phone is not there. I can feel it under a few layers of clothing though.
I realize that I'm wearing two pairs of shorts and I reach into the pocket of the shorts underneath and
pull out my phone. She says "What would you do if you had lost it?". I say that I would have to look for
it. "How long would that take? 12 minutes?". I say "More like 21". I flip it open and find it is dead. I look
at the top and it still has the date and time and such in faded gradient and glitchy white text. I put my
phone away and just say its dead. The next thing I know I am in the room where the "class" is. It is like
one of those little pre-school rooms. I am in one corner of the room talking to another friend from
college when the teacher calls us over to the table. I sit down, my back to the wall closest to the door.
I realize I do not have my bookbag. I hope the teacher doesn't ask for homework. I am sitting next to
another student who doesn't have his either. The teacher turns our attention to the center of the table.
There is a cup of what looks like some sort of salsa. It doesn't have much sauce though. Mostly solid
ingredients. It is somewhat pink in color and looks slightly watery. A girl at the far right end of the table
gets excited. She knows what it is and loves it. She says a name for it over and over again but I forget
what it is. It is in some other language and I think it began with an 'M'. Anyway we take out pieces of
bread and dip it in the "salsa". The girl keeps going on about how sweet it tastes. It doesn't taste like
anything to me. It is really quite bland. The teacher then tells a story about some tragic event and the
girl tells a similar story from her own experience. I think there was another part to this dream after the
"class" but I don't remember.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was telling somebody how the Notorious BIG "could actually write," by which I meant to say that he had very good literary skills. I had apparently known this from letters or messages I'd received from him. I'd also, apparently, had a few conversations with him, and I remembered his voice sounding very gentle and distinguished. At some point Biggie may have been sitting near me, wearing a white t-shirt and sunglasses.

Dream #2

My boss was in some very dim space, before a white wall which, in the dim light, looked faintly purple. It almost looked like the room was lit by a fish tank light.

My boss began throwing up some blackish substance that looked like a mix between dog feces and those ash-worm "fireworks." The substance was small and came out slowly. My boss may even have pulled it out of his mouth. My boss seemed to be extremely uncomfortable and a little afraid.

Dream #3

I was in some room of an apartment with my boss and a couple other people. There were no curtains on the windows, so plenty of light came into the room. It was a bright summer day. The room seemed pretty empty, but the people in the room and our mood made the place seem really stuffy.

The apartment was probably my apartment. My boss or someone else was on the phone with someone, trying to get me moved out of my neighborhood. Apparently something bad had happened here, either to or around me, and the people in my life decided that they needed to get me out of here as soon as possible.

Suddenly my boss seemed jealous of all these people talking about how I had recently had such a hard time in my neighborhood. My boss said, "Well, you know, I live in a pretty tough neighborhood myself. Right now."

As my boss continued his speech, it was like we were driving down some side road in a rolling area full of tall, tan grass. We came to a "T" in the road at the bottom of a short, steep slope and probably turned left.

My boss continued, "My house is just a refurbished house. It used to be a crack house. In fact, when we moved into our place, we found a whole bunch of drugs that the cops have forgotten to clean out. I'd say that's a pretty tough neighborhood!"

Morning of December 18, 2003. Thursday.



In my dream, I need to get to the other side of town (related to a forgotten back story), that being the north side of La Crosse (though I am living in Australia at the time in my dream as well, thus I quickly got from my home in Australia to La Crosse somehow - without giving it any logical thought). It is getting a bit cooler (which it would be in La Crosse, though there is not much snow and I do not feel freezing cold). I find myself going fairly fast and I realize that I am going down the middle of the street on a wheeled office chair. I get to an intersection and do not see any cars from any direction (at least closer), and I continue to move forward with a vague concern about oncoming traffic. This area was an incline (as I am headed downwards to the east) so did not quite need as much footwork and do not need any “brakes”, which is somewhat of both a concern and a relief at different times, as I am not sure if I can stop the chair in every instance. I feel a bit strange “driving” a wheeled office chair (which is the same one I sat on in real life at my computer desk on Stadcor Street) through a busier area of town and wonder if I should be riding a bicycle instead. Somehow, riding a bicycle seems just a bit stranger (in my dream only) than riding my wheeled office chair, which I think is partly because a bicycle can just fall over (kickstands not always working correctly) and would have to be leaned against something after getting off (which seems far more of a concern in my dream than it would be in reality). I lose speed here and there at times, which is a bit annoying, but the environment is quite vivid and correctly detailed. I feel fairly good otherwise. My dream has a very well-rendered sense of open space and movement. There is a bit of traffic, but not that much.

Night of November 12, 1977. Saturday.



This dream was extraordinarily vivid. I do not consider it a nightmare, regardless of the implications (as I was not frightened or in distress at any point and I did not have to run away). Carol (older half-sister on my mother’s side) and her husband are driving around, seemingly in Florida near where I live in Cubitis. It is very late at night, probably midnight, and a bit cool. It seems, though, that we are in an old-fashioned convertible from the 1940s. My brother-in-law Mel is driving.

There is a very eerie sound of continuous screaming in various pitches, and that of all ages. Soon, a large group of people are running from our left to our right on the perpendicular road of the intersection we are about one car away from and are stopped because of Mel wondering what is going on. We are not attacked, but there is a very unusual mood and I am near lucidity. None of us say anything for a time, and nothing else seems to happen after they pass. It is only a bit later that I realize that none of them had a head. There is no gore or blood. They seem to all run at about the same speed and are mostly equidistant by about four feet. It is almost like some sort of macabre “migration” which I believe is the conclusion that Carol comes to and she comments very casually and calmly on the scene. I eventually wonder how they could be screaming if they have no heads. It seems like a major event, but the backstory remains unknown (until hypnopompic disclosure surfaces).

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An intersection is rendered in my dreams as representing the choice of returning to deeper sleep or waking, that is, autosymbolism for RAS mediation. There is usually an additional known factor that validates this. In this case, the headless people, running perpendicular to my dream self’s location and my liminal intent to return to sleep, dramatically represent the lack of thinking skills in the dream state as well as being linked to my liminal association with headless clothing store mannequins, which adds more validation to why my dream was rendered in this way, as a mannequin is autosymbolism for the physical body being inactive while asleep (and I sometimes see clothing store mannequins without heads as a very peculiar feature in society). As these people are running to my right rather than being still, it represents a peculiar way of looking at the waking stage, usually unique, always curious.

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