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Of One of Four Dolls

Morning of May 28, 2020. Thursday.

Dream #: 19,519-02. Reading time (optimized): 3 min 30 sec.



My dream’s initial setting is a unique variation of our current home (with much of my waking-life identity viably modeled), but the focus is mainly on a distortion of the second house from ours. (That house has been empty for a long time in waking life.) Zsuzsanna and I are going to go and look at the inside of the house. I remember it is smaller than ours, but in my dream, it is unrealistically inadequate at first. However, in the final scenario, the setting is a mostly empty lounge room that is bigger than our lounge room.

When I am in the house in its lounge room (before it transitions to its larger size), I consider how the back room, as the house only seems to have two, has walls covered with an unusual dark material. It is somewhat like pairs of insect wings evenly and vertically covering all of the walls, additionally reminiscent of fish scales. It seems to be a result of the room being unused for so long, giving the impression of unsuitability for a potential tenant.

I eventually notice four dolls standing in a row. Each is about a foot high. I focus my attention on one that represents a girl wearing roller skates. This precursor to the vestibular-cerebral handshake (the fundamental waking process to alert the sleeping mind to comprehend physical awareness to move and rise from bed) exponentially vivifies my dream, as is usually the case, even when witnessed rather than inherited.

Although the doll can stand on its own, it seems to be somewhat rickety at first. There is a button below its chest that will activate it. When I press and rub it, the doll continues to quiver (which results in a vestibular-somatosensory-cerebral handshake, vivifying my dream to the next stage) but soon rolls away, moving in an arc.

My auditory cortex becomes active as the final dynamic of the cortical handshake. The doll vividly speaks in a young female voice as it circles the room. “Ooh, I am moving. Ooh, what’s that? Ooh, it’s a box.” The doll bumps into an empty cardboard box that matches its height, though immediately turns, rolls a short distance, and bumps into another one opposite the first.

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I awake with a slightly shaky feeling from being overheated.

Most dream content (excluding liminal and enigmatic integration as well as modulation by my conscious self identity) is always a unique rendering of the same waking processes, simple as that, that is, imaginary compensation for the vestibular-cerebral handshake (and as here, additional somatosensory cortex and auditory cortex activity). Ever since I was a child, it has remained mind-boggling that I have rarely seen anyone comprehend this no matter how clearly it has been explained and validated thousands of times since I first wrote extensively about dreams at age eight.

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I will present here another rundown on this in my 5,100th Internet entry.

Dream content is fundamentally co-occurrent with the dream state. As explained many times before, “Similarly, he (Herbert Silberer) has shown that the conclusions of some dreams or some divisions in their content merely signify the dreamer’s own perception of his sleeping and waking…in persons who are gifted philosophically and accustomed to introspection it may become very evident.”

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It should be self-evident that the shaky doll was a simulacrum of my emerging awareness of my physicality that needed addressing. It was upright and on roller skates (in contrast to my concurrent physical status), with similarity to my “Annabelle” dreaming experience from March 4, 2020. In that instance, the doll was bigger. Additionally, I decided to wear roller skates to enjoy the vestibular experience.

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Now, some clarification to wrap it all up.

Why was the activation button below the doll’s chest? It was because of co-occurrence with my mild indigestion, where I typically press on or rub the same area for some relief.

Why was the doll on roller skates? This feature is the result of vestibular cortex activity that has not quite correlated with the emergence of my physical status during REM sleep (the same factor that causes sleep starts, in other words, the transition of atonia to myoclonus).

What is with the empty cardboard boxes? They are concurrent with the absence of full cortical integration, as virtual walls always are in the dream state, and ultimately with every other factor of liminal modulation. (For example, one person told me how he crashes through a wall to wake himself, though I often use a virtual door, and one of my more vivid early childhood dreams ended with a bull crashing through a wall. There is no need to pretend it “means” something else.)

What about the small room in the back with peculiar walls? I just explained what “walls” are, but the pairs of insect wings are more about a potential increase in neural energy. Their dormancy correlates with the absence of a cortical handshake and no anticipated myoclonus at that point.

Why was the doll female? I am more likely to associate a doll with feminine attributes, even though it is an analogy of how my body does not move while sleeping. However, I have not done the thousands of correlations needed to confirm that vestibular simulacrums are more often female than male.

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Morning of March 4, 2020. Wednesday.

Dream #: 19,434-02. Reading time: 1 min 24 sec.



My final passive lucid dreaming event (before I allow it to dissipate) in the first stage of my sleep cycle includes audio only (with no imagery or physicality): “I’ll stay with him until he dies.” (It is the preconscious cue closing the final gate to conscious awareness in entering deeper sleep. The first hour or so of every sleep cycle all my life has consisted of vivid lucid dreams of various types.) The unfamiliar voice is masculine but somewhat artificial as the formant is too high (though still coarse) to sound human.

Later, instinctual awareness of being asleep results in an unusual scene implied to be from a movie. It features a male high school principal’s corpse on the top shelf of a hall closet. It seems someone may have killed him. It is the rendering of a sleep simulacrum, which is a factor of every sleep cycle. He represents the cessation of cognizance and the lack of discernible physicality while asleep, though sleep simulacrums only stem from mortality analogies with emergence from a deeper sleep.

As an additional result of that process, a parallel analogy emerges into my dream’s imaginary narrative. The Annabelle doll appears in an undefined room. (The association is that physicality is not feasible while asleep, so I am like a doll.) However, it is not ugly (as in the movies). It is about the height of a six-year-old and has blood on the shoulders of its dress. There is another (unknown) male doll of about the same height. Throughout this scenario, there is only cheerfulness in my belief I am guiding the continuity of a movie. Even so, I instinctually anticipate somatosensory dynamics and pick up both dolls (which vivifies my dreaming experience), and I walk through the mostly featureless room.

As I carry the dolls, my instinctual awareness of imaginary proprioception increases, and as a result, I find an antique pair of roller skates (the kind without shoes). I put my feet on them, and as I am doing this, my dream becomes increasingly vivid. Eventually, after some realistic movement, my dream fades without discernible waking dynamics.

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Sunday: I was in my home town I lived in when I was a kid but I was there for a job interview where I had to wear roller skates & work w/ this male friend I know IRL but he also reminded me of (JJ) someone else that I won't mention. I had others there to lean on & to give me good references. But I now had a boss who was flirty when other ppl weren't around. Mostly it was good though as the dream progressed. It was about how I'm okay now & have moved on. Reminding me that I'm a very different person now.

Wednesday: On some weird reality tv show w/ 5 yr olds. We take a train on the way to a store & I see a familiar scene & mention it. It was a moment of lucidity but it fled after that. We had to go to a toy store & the girls were to pick out things to use to survive but they had to be in this weird Christmas section that only had toys. I remember this same scene from around Christmas time. We went back to these stables & each girl was in a stall. It was pouring rain. They had to make a fire & were using doll legs for logs. This dream was just weird as shit.

Dream - Lucid

Something about a roller coaster.

I told myself when I woke up from this one, I'd remember. I told myself to just remember "roller coaster". And now, that's literally all I can remember. -_-'

~

I was with some other people, though I couldn't say for sure who they were. We were taking shelter somewhere, though; America had been bombed by Britain. They had dropped a nuke on us.

Wherever it was that we were, there was a lot of radiation in an area of the room. Most of it was coming from this thing on the ceiling that we called a "generator". It had something to do with the bombings; it got moved during them, and absorbed a lot of radiation. It was this black and white metal thing that looked kind of like a moon rover. I remember getting close to it a few times, and being warned not to.

I want to say the room we were in had some sort of anti-gravitational property in it; I feel like when we would get close to the generator on the ceiling, we were floating to it.

Then, I was talking to my mom. She was telling me about something her and Windy, a woman I know from when I was in college, something about what they did during the bombing. I asked my mom about what Katie did.
"I mean crazy Katie," I said. I was referring to my old roommate from college.
I don't remember my mom's response.

I remember thinking about the exact area that had been bombed and wondering if the people immediately died on impact.

~

This dream took place post-bombing as well, but that was not the focus of the dream. It seemed that some time had passed after the initial bombing, maybe a few weeks.

I was outside somewhere, and I wanted to go do something. It had to do with my brother. I went to go speak with my doctor about this. It had something to do with my right foot; I wanted to tell her that something was wrong with it.

I put this giant black roller skate-type thing on my right foot. It was my brother's. I started to skate and walk to wherever it was that I was going. I entered a building, and into this room that looked like a lobby. It was spacious with lots of couches. I approached a lady sitting on one of the couches. She was my Doctor, Dr. B, but she looked kind of like a teacher I had in college, Dr. D. She was wearing a white lab coat over her clothing. She was also working on charts. I got her attention, and she looked up. I told her something about my right foot. She looked at me as I told her, but she seemed concerned, or like she thought that something else was wrong instead of the foot. I thought about how contradictory it was that I was telling her about a foot problem, and yet, I was wearing this giant roller skate on the affected foot. She then went on to tell me something.
"They're bruised," she said.
She was referring to the bottom of my rib cage on the right side. I "remembered" getting it x-rayed last time I was there. I guess the results were in.

I then had two of the big black roller skates instead of just one. They were made for skating on carpet. I skated around on the carpet inside for awhile, feeling how easy and effortless it was. I hadn't skated in years, so I thought it would be more difficult to get back into it.

I then was on the phone with someone, looking for this secret entrance to somewhere. It had been a place my brother liked and was very well-known at, but my brother was out of town with his fiance'. I feel like I was supposed to have a purpose for going to the secret place, like I was supposed to be trying to fix something that was wrong with me. The lady on the phone had asked me if such-and-such (can't remember what she asked me), and I said no. She had seemed slightly irritated, but hid it well, and continued to direct me.

I got off the phone afterwards, and I found the entrance somewhere in this rocky area, I think there may have been water there too. I had been there a couple of times before, but it had been years. You had to be very precise upon entering it though, or you'd go the wrong way. I slid down this smooth rock slide, but ended up in the wrong place. I had to go all the way back around and start over.

I remember being back where I started, and there were so many different ways you could go. The whole area was rocky, and it was like I was in the middle of a circle with my options all around me. The someone that I had been on the phone with then offered their help. It was a woman. I had to follow her. She was showing me a shortcut so I wouldn't have to go all the way back around. I followed her to the secret place. The shortcut she took should have seemed obvious to me, I thought. Duh. But I am not good with directions. -_-'

Anyway, so I was there, in the secret place. It was the skating rink I used to frequent as a child. I was skating on the skate floor. There were a few others there, mostly people who worked there. I skated by them, as they were all standing in the same area, close to the benches on the side of the skate floor. I was then asked about my brother, about if he wanted something, or wanted me to have this something, I don't remember for sure, or what the something was. Not entirely sure I knew what the something was when I was in the dream either. I told them I didn't know. They were going to send Kasey Kasem to ask; they knew my brother loved Kasey Kasem. I told them that he was out of town with his fiance'. So they had Kasey call him instead. I heard him talking on the phone, but I did not see him.
"Hi, this is Kasey Kasem," he started, as he so often did on the radio.
He started to ask my brother what he wanted to ask him.

I saw my brother sitting at a table at a restaurant with his fiance', talking on the phone.

I then wondered if this was a different Kasey Kasem, since the real one died. I thought maybe there was someone that worked at the rink that went by that name.

~

The Kasey Kasem thing could have easily been a lucid trigger. Gah. Oh well.

I think I'm going to try getting back into meditation, if I can discipline myself enough to stick with it. That really seems to help my LDs, while also making me feel better all around. I'll see what I can do. I can easily take 30 minutes out of my day to do it. Just gotta stay focused.

*EDIT*

Just remembered a fragment.

I was handling a few small birds. They looked like finches.



As one jumped on my finger, I felt its small talons digging into my finger. I expected this. It was alright, though; I was caring for the birds.

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My mother, father, and a very young me exit from the main doors at the mall. Judging by the fact that my other brothers are absent and I'm so young, I can conclude that this dream is a vision of the past. It's dark outside and ambient lighting reflects off little pools of water left by a recent rainfall. I can hear the sound of tires tearing through them as I watch my past self and parents detach themselves from the rest of the crowd.

Suddenly, without any warning, little me bolts from the side of my parents on roller skates. I'm going very fast and seemingly in control of my balance, but oblivious to the danger that I face in the busy parking lot. Immediately my mother takes off after me, hysterical that I may be hit by a car. Instinctively I follow after her, also on roller skates, to help her catch my young self. After several minutes of extremely close (and what felt like life-threatening) swerves and skids, she finally caught up to me. Around the same time, I went to grab myself but realized I was something of a ghost and my hands went right through me.

My roller skates were off now, and my mom was still hysterical. It seemed she blamed herself for me wanting to run away, she left me (now safe) with a bottle cap in my hands and an empty beer bottle in hers. She wandered in circles mumbling to herself and ended the conversation with a shattering of the bottle she had in her hand. Throwing it so high, I had to strain my neck to see the peak of the arch it made.

Watching this made me overwhelmingly sad and I blamed myself. I awoke and the sadness lingered. I felt for a second that this may have actually happened, but I don't remember it fully because I was so young. I think I'm going to call my mom an tell her I love her : )

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