Blue_Opossum

Morning of August 25, 2015. Tuesday.



Notes:

It always gives me an extraordinary sense of fulfillment when I get a continuous flow of insight and am able to more fully decode certain patterns in dreams over a lifetime since earliest memory. I am very grateful for the technology that has allowed me to do this; that is, type faster and with continuous editing potential (rather than writing and correcting and rewriting and correcting when I was little), put documents all together in one place, and have a listing and potential day to day timeline of my lifetime from around age four (with sparse family references and records since my birth date in 1960) as well as having access to resources that are able to validate and enhance so many of my earlier records. Not only will I be able to, in about ten years (only an optimistic estimate of course), bring all of my dream records and notes together as I want them, I will also have the ability to do extensive searches with a fair amount of precision. This dream, as odd and unlikely as it seems (even to me at first - I did not expect the flashes of realization when working with it), gave me the required focus somehow to unravel a small and isolated set of dream metaphors and associations going back to 1968 as well as relating to the path to my beautiful soulmate. There are too many layers to get into in this entry (and one would have to understand hundreds of summarized pages of my personal back story to “get” any of it anyway). I can only loosely touch upon some of it. Obviously, there are still limitations to my personal symbols and metaphors being fully decoded. This is mainly because some symbolic associations are rather sparse and fairly rare even at my present age. Still, I feel very happy today with another new breakthrough.

Sewing Machine Bulldozer:

I am mournfully back as I was when I was in my twenties and working for the Onalaska Street Department (not that I was sad at that time - it is just that something seems to be “missing” somehow in-dream). My job at this time was picking up large pieces of eroded embankment (on a fairly difficult inclination) and placing them on the roadside - placing them directly in front of the bulldozer. This was very difficult work and not many could do it for very long. Over time, I begin to be annoyed and tired over why I am even doing this. (It does not dawn on me that I am no longer this age, and do not even live in America anymore.) I am concerned about the speed of the other workers. The bulldozer even bumps me a few times, though not in any harmful way. I grow impatient and realize that I may have missed pieces a far distance back and think that the stretch will have to be worked over again. I do some of the work incorrectly, that is, I bend over to pick up a heavy piece instead of squatting and flinging back. Any sense of weariness of course, is an illusion in-dream. I start to ask myself what I am doing here. Is this where I am supposed to be?

I absentmindedly turn about and put my foot against the blade of the bulldozer. This results in a very strange event. The blade and push frame begin to wobble and very small “plates” fall off the front (reminding me vaguely of “Bathtub with Grill” from June 26, 2015). The exhaust pipe stack begins to move up and down like a “giant” sewing machine needle. It is almost like the tension building up in a cartoon (but not cartoon-like in any way). When I look down, I see that the bulldozer’s blade has actually transformed into an oversized antique sewing machine’s treadle (with floral scroll design), though at an angle and somewhat elevated. My leg is automatically working it to create (and actually sew together, apparently) some sort of clothing within the bulldozer’s cab. It is some sort of gossamer white lacy material flowing out from the side. Around this time there is a very strange mechanical sound behind me and when I dare look, it is a downward rolling “wave” suggesting a ghostly staircase. Soon, it is a luminescent staircase (recurring feature mostly from early 1991 to early 1994). My wife (as she was when we first made contact) in a glowing wedding dress and some sort of oversized tiara (somewhat like a crown) is standing there with a bouquet of flowers. I can see a blue layer of light just under her skin. “I’m not going to be late, am I?” I ask. “I never intended to be la…” (My dream is swept away.)

Connections:

Bulldozer history: I have found some links I did not really fully put together before. “The Dead One” dream (February 13, 1971, age ten - that is, first version of it) had a bulldozer run over Brenda W when I was taking flowers to her late at night on the eve of Valentine’s Day (so that only her hand is seen emerged from the soil and I feel a terrible sense of loss), yet she was resurrected (not in a zombie sense) near the end of my dream, yet “I could not yet have her”. (There were several dreams where she was resurrected, none of them relevant to any zombie lore - more in a divine “ascension” sense.) Brenda was the fully confirmed “stand-in” for my wife-to-be and also appeared in composite forms (such as “The Bad Witch” from March 18, 1978, which had a recurrence on March 23rd - the same date I got my first letter from my wife-to-be in 1991). Other layers - my sister died on February 13th (though the 14th from my perspective at one point in Australia as we are about a day ahead) and my father also died on the 14th of February. I have often associated the bulldozer with mortality and loss as such. Thus, there is very odd synchronicity with only a 1 in 365 chance it would be relevant as such - though it is - and all through my life extremely unlikely synchronicity continued with almost every event and association.

The origins of this (that is, the very seed) may or may not be related to the tree I used to spend time near at primary school. One of my friends used to take palmetto sticks and push sand off the concrete bench, chanting “bulldozer bulldozer”. This was the “same” bench that Brenda was seated in most versions of “Bridge Over a Prehistoric World” (though she also appeared in distorted composites associated with the “dream girl” or “mystery girl” as I preferred).

At any rate, from here, I made somewhat of a breakthrough in one very early version of the “divine staircase”. However, the features are quite different. It turns out to be my “Rocket Science” dream from July 2, 1976. This is not the first version of the implied “soulmate staircase” by any stretch. One of the oldest appears in “The Ghost Marriage” dream from October 16, 1971. I am linking only to the “Rocket Science” dream because of a few odd parallels. Firstly, the white sheet of paper that makes the “staircase” is like a miniature implication of the one in this latest dream (which I never even began to note before for whatever absentminded reason) as well as the commonly recurring ones as already mentioned above. It moved exactly the same way; that is, like a diagonal wave that suggested a complete “pure” or “divine” staircase (phantom or not).

Aside from that, there is also the shared “whirligig” element and the strange “impossible” technology, the “whirligig” obviously being a Merkaba form, but I am not sure what the sewing machine needle and fictional helicopter rotary design “pumping” relates to (well, on a spiritual level that is - some sort of spiritual “motor” or cosmic mechanism perhaps). As most of this had already come about in 1994, it is more like a decoding breakthrough than anything relevant to what may come.

Night of February 13, 1971. Saturday.



Brenda W, a female classmate I was fairly close to, and who lived just north of me in Florida, turned out to seem to also be some sort of dream symbol and remarkable catalyst for my future wife (there seemed nothing like this for the “other” - Susan R - although she was already present in my life at the time, so did not need a precognitive or anachronistic catalyst, I guess). There is a lot of evidence for this as well as some pretty strange synchronicity on top of precognitive aspects over a longer time period, some now just coming to light which I will add here, as in all honesty “it never ends” as the deeper I look the more “impossible” synchronicity unfolds, in layers, going far beyond being mathematically possible by chance alone.

In the first part of my dream, which seems to be taking place fairly late at night, I go to Brenda W’s house with a larger bouquet of flowers to give to her. As I am walking along, I horrifyingly notice that a yellow bulldozer had ran over and killed her just prior to my arriving, possibly by minutes (I associated yellow in my dreams with “caution” at the time - as with traffic lights and painted borders on floors for possible hazards). Her right hand, from the lower part of the wrist up, is sticking up from the ground (where there is no grass but a few stones here and there). The rest of her had been covered up. I am in awe over the melancholy scene. My dream fades or shifts into the next scene…

I am at the cemetery a few blocks from the school - I had ridden my bicycle past there (instead of taking the school bus most of that year) in real life several years later. In my dream, I am at Brenda’s grave. It seems to be open to display her in almost as a sort of Snow White scenario (or perhaps the grave is not “finished” yet?). It is at one of the graves closer to the road, but as I do not have the luxury yet of knowing the exact location/lot, I do not yet know whose grave it actually was in real life (something I would like to know) as although some cemeteries have exact locations of lot views online, this one does not and I do not quite have enough time to do more extensive research presently.

I reach down to tentatively touch her and get a strange sensation of sticky cellophane covering her entire form. This fallacy seems somewhat “logical” in my dream. It is a fictional way of preserving her appearance, I suppose, similar to how a poster is laminated to make it last much longer. It is a very sad scene for me. I look upon her laminated body for what seems like a long time before I resign to continuing with my life.

Later on (seemingly much later in my dream - perhaps two weeks or more), I am walking in the main part of town. I see Brenda, alive and apparently healthy and uninjured, walking around in the distance. I start to approach her, but she runs off (after stopping and watching me for a minute or so as I go closer to her), appearing to be frightened of everything - or perhaps she does not want to be “discovered” (alive again) by anyone who knew her yet. This happens a few times and I am never able to catch up with her or find where she is staying. I see her vanish among smaller groups of people and she always somehow eludes me. Perhaps she is lost and does not know where to go.

Doing a bit of research, I found a different Brenda W (perhaps her grandmother) in a cemetery near where her family would have originally lived, and that other Brenda died on my wife’s birthday in 1991 - which is the year we first made contact. It was also in block 36, which was the number of my wife’s street address when we first made contact. Layer upon layer, it never ends.

So, the Brenda W in my dream was running away, perhaps in being a symbol of my future wife, was not to be in my path at that time.

Oak Ridge link

---

The event where I touch Brenda’s “corpse” (the back of her left hand) in her open casket relates to a (subliminal) interest in the nature of sleeping and dreaming and is also a dream sign (as she is in a sleeping position and was likely also asleep at the time of my dream in the same directional orientation - thus on one level, this was likely distorted remote viewing). Additionally, the fact that Brenda; neighbor, friend, and classmate; was the only female as such in my youth that I perceived as dying and coming back to life (in a number of dreams) and who was also confirmed as a “stand-in” for my soulmate Zsuzsanna (other than when my “mystery girl” herself appeared, sometimes distorted into some of Brenda’s features), it speaks volumes.

---