Blue_Opossum

Morning of October 17, 2018. Wednesday.

Dream #: 18,930-02. Reading time (optimized): 2 min. Readability score: 51.



My dream unfolds with the same autosymbolic processes and related components in the same order towards waking as they have on a day-to-day basis for over fifty years, though as is usually the case, in an intriguingly different manner.

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Act One: The non-lucid creation of my vestibular system simulacrum to correlate the illusory physicality of the dream state at the precursory level.

An old woman, modeled after Sally Fergus (of the television series “Dirty Sally”) travels through the Old West. The setting is a variation of the “Gunsmoke” (television series) set. She has a natural ability to mimic the sound of a chicken perfectly. She casually walks through town, calling all the chickens to aid her in robbing a bank. She is cheerful and confident.

Act Two: My vestibular system simulacrum is closer to viable RAS mediation and the association with chickens not being capable of sustained flight is transmuted into a paper airplane event.

The old woman wants to call upon other bandits to help her in future escapades. She folds dollar bills into paper airplanes, writes messages on them with details for potential meetings, and throws them into taverns where possible candidates might be sitting. She also taunts the sheriff by flinging paper airplanes (again, made of folded dollar bills) to his desk at times. Sarcastic messages about his ineptitude are on them. (In this case, the precursory RAS simulacrum - the sheriff - is divided from the vestibular system simulacrum, which is not always the rule. It seems dependent on both ultradian rhythm and my level of dream self awareness, though ultimately it is about unification and reestablishing consciousness.)

Act Three: The emerging consciousness cue occurs by way of the gathering coins factor. (This was sometimes used deliberately at a liminal or lucid level from early childhood, but water reinduction is far more common for me as well as for Zsuzsanna.) Additionally, there is the final subliminal association and revelation of the real physical body being “hidden” within a bed sheet from the non-lucid dream self. That has been the exit point process of many dreams since childhood.

The old woman is gathering her men near a wagon to help her move a big rolled-up carpet. The cowboys and bandits decide to unroll it. As they do, more and more coins are visible. They marvel at the hundreds of beautiful coins. I slowly wake.

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Since early childhood, I have remained perplexed over telepathic threads that weave themselves into the dreaming processes. In this case, there are two sources. One, Zsuzsanna had read a story (from a library book I had not seen) to our children about messages sent via paper airplanes. Two, Zsuzsanna had been in a conversation with her sister about an older woman making money with her chickens, though by selling the eggs. I had no precursory idea or cue from either event. These literal transpersonal crossovers into what is otherwise inducing, dreaming, and waking autosymbolism remains an enigma. We experience it all the time. Many others do not.

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Morning of July 15, 2017. Saturday.



My dream starts out on the porch of the Barolin Street house (our previous home of where we have not lived since 2008). This is atypical, as the porch setting, though representing liminal space, is linked to the induction stage rather than the waking transition. As such, it begins to rain (water induction, my most common type, as water symbolizes the real-time dynamics of sleep). I enjoy its essence but I then realize that there are several small stacks of comic books in the north side yard, probably only four or five comic books in each of about nine stacks. Many seem to be Harvey comic books, such as “Casper the Friendly Ghost”. They are arranged in mostly an equidistant pattern (of about six inches apart to each direction) on a very low-set table or thin plywood platform. Zsuzsanna is with me. I realize that I have to run and get them so that they are not ruined.

When I go out into the rain, I feel very good, even though I have to act quickly. Curiously, the books show no signs of getting wet as I gather them. After I take them onto our porch, my dream changes, and there are far less threads of my conscious self identity present.

I now seem to be about eighteen years old or younger. My mother is still alive (and I have absolutely no recall of her having died in 2002). Strangely, even though my brother Earl did not die until November 29, 2007, I perceive him (via a false memory and false backstory) as having died when I was a teenager. (Therefore, my mother being alive in my dream and Earl being deceased is a typical error that dreams make all the time.)

The setting is very sparse in detail and so undefined, there is no discernment of whether it is indoors or outdoors or the typical ambiguous combination that my dream self somehow always perceptually resolves. This “impossible” thinking pattern is not viable when I am fully conscious, and remains a distortion native to the dream state only (though I really cannot understand how this could work despite critical thinking skills not existing in most non-lucid dream types).

My mother is present at times, including the very last scene. I mostly look at various Matchbox Cars. These are ones my brother Earl supposedly owned while living in Cubitis. (Although I still continuously have dreams based on variations of Cubitis, where I have not lived since the summer of 1978, dreaming of Earl’s house in Cubitis, which was only a few houses south of us, is quite rare.) Earl is present in some sort of ghost form, but otherwise appears to be normal, as he was in perhaps the late 1960s. He only looks on at my activities at times.

Yet another error in this dream is that I see Earl as being married to his third wife Cindy in this time period (and she is “still” living in his Cubitis house) rather than his first wife Beverly (and in fact, I have no awareness of him being married to anyone else). His ghost form seems to be a natural result of dying; that is, people die, and then they exist as visible “ghosts”, set apart from the physical world, but otherwise just as they were when alive.

I open a long rectangular cardboard box that is a racing set based on Matchbox Cars. There is a blue racing car that I look at for a short time. I do not think Earl will be angry as I look at his collection.

In the last scene, my mother is nearby. I play around with two blue Matchbox Car pickup trucks that are identical except for the position of the wings of the oversized white chicken sitting in each pickup truck bed. I get the impression it might be meant to be an advertising gimmick (possibly for KFC). One chicken’s wings are out and horizontal while the other’s wings are down and against its body. The chickens also rotate to spin around the pickup truck bed, and I start spinning them prior to waking.

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Although this non-lucid dream is extraordinarily easy to decode the native meaning of as most of my non-lucid dreams are, I will presently only focus on the last amusing segment. Chickens are birds that cannot fly very well, so are a typical example of “failed flight” (a form of “return flight”) waking symbolism. This is not negative and has nothing to do with conscious self “issues” as “dream interpreters” (not a real concept) seem to like to pretend via the Barnum effect. Waking symbolism as such is an indicator of the anticipatory (though subliminal) nature of hypnopompia, which is a biological process. As a result, bird and airplane symbolism (and flying in general) has been extremely common in my dreams since earliest memory, for over fifty years, continuously occurring in over one in five dreams in the tens of thousands I have studied.

In this one, there is even an obvious dream sign play, the pickup truck BED, an indicator of being in the dream state, even more so with the oversized chickens on them. Pairs of birds (of various species) have occurred in a number of my dreams. They represent, in most cases, Zsuzsanna and I sleeping together. They are different in their wing status (and in different pickup trucks) in this case due to Zsuzsanna and I being in different levels of sleep (in real time). My mother as my emergent consciousness is likely a vague association with Zsuzsanna prior to waking (as she is a mother to our children). Beds (sometimes in unusual locations) as real-time dream state indicators are also common in Zsuzsanna’s dreams.

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Morning of May 20, 2015. Wednesday.



I am wandering about in different dream settings in less-defined unfamiliar areas though most of the scenes involve Mottled Houdans. (I have not worked near this kind of chicken in real life since on our exotic chicken farm in Florida when I was about sixteen.) In my dream, they have special attributes; even human-like in some cases. At one point, I touch some smaller Houdans at a (unknown and unfamiliar) chicken farm as they are strutting about in a larger area of the building (which has a dirt floor) and they seem almost like friendly cats in their behavior. For some reason, it dawns on me that they are “more like people” than any other animal (which of course is absurd).

At one point, I seem to be involved in the sales department for Murray McMurray Hatchery in another unfamiliar region, and there is a sort of confrontation with an actor whose name I cannot remember presently, along with about three other unknown males. (He reminds me vaguely of Mason Adams as from “Lou Grant”.) He asks me about another worker at the hatchery, claiming that he never got change back from any of his purchases and asks me if I knew the worker had been cheating him like this over a longer time period. I absentmindedly nod in agreement which causes the other male to think I knew he was cheating him though which is not the case. “I feel really stupid,” I say, and then explain to him that I did not know that that worker was keeping the change each time and only nodded out of absentminded agreement with whatever he was saying at first.

In another scene, I am near a group of Houdan hens. Even though they cannot see because of the feathers over their eyes, they seem to have some sort of sensitivity to be aware of other people and animals supposedly because of higher levels of sentience. I am somewhat surprised at their “skill” to be aware as such, seemingly even more than other animals that can see well.

Later, I am in Cubitis at my father’s chicken shed and checking on all the Houdans (even though we had many other breeds including very unusual experimental hybrids). At one point, in a more public area, I encounter a Houdan rooster that is as tall as I am. I “shake hands” with him (by clasping his wingtip) and the Houdan almost seems human (though does not speak, though there is a vague level of mental communication and mutual understanding). In fact, he seems to have the goal of becoming an astronaut and is eventually wearing a NASA space helmet. His “wife” dances with him for a time and they are somewhat intimate; their “public boldness” of which embarrasses me slightly. However, the rooster soon seems puzzled over why he cannot “kiss” his hen with the space helmet on and kind of just clunks against her beak a couple times at first. There are several unknown people in the area and I start to mingle with the crowd to give the Houdans some privacy. (I do get the feeling that I had been watching our two normal-sized Houdan pets from the late 1970s; Fonzie and Pinky.)

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This dream had scenes of chickens “kissing”, something I do not recall dreaming of before. In fact, the rooster in this particular dream (Fonzie) seemed to represent an aspect of myself, as it was as tall as me and was bordering on an event of lucidity.

One of the photographs that a sister (on my father’s side) had sent shortly after this dream (with no way of me knowing she would send photographs - as we have not had that much communication throughout much of my life) has me holding a chicken (not a Houdan, though black and white) with its beak against my nose.

Morning of December 25, 2014. Thursday.



This was a typical “one animal becomes another” dream (which is possibly one of the oldest dream types in my memory - going back to my toddler years) and it was fairly short and uneventful. However, there were other sections which were not very clear or well-rendered.

In the first part of my dream, it is established that we are “still” living on Duffy Street. I am only vaguely aware of the holiday season. I believe we seem to have some sort of business of selling or giving away pets.

I go into an area of the kitchen where there is some sort of wooden platform with several small trap doors and which is built into the larger kitchen counter and part of the stove top. Over time, I notice that we have a large collection of Mottled Houdans, a type of exotic chicken (supposedly a French breed, but looking quite similar to certain Polish breeds). There are at least twenty of them if not more. They are probably about three-fourths their final adult size.

After a time, I realize that we actually have black and white cats, not Mottled Houdans (this may be based on absentminded in-dream questioning of why there would be chickens inside the apartment). I am not that coherent at any point. I think we are going to try to sell some. At any rate, I am aware that both cats and chickens “roost” in higher locations, just sort of standing there. We have more (younger) animals in another room in cardboard boxes under the bed, but I am not fully clear on anything or whether they are cats, chickens, or something else (such as Guinea pigs).

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Morning of October 15, 1977. Saturday.



I go out to the chicken shed and notice that our turkens (who naturally have no feathers on their necks as a main feature of the breed), also called Transylvanian naked necks and wrongly (rather stupidly) believed to be a cross between a chicken and a turkey by some as well as of the widely mistaken belief that they do not crow (they actually crow louder and more often than other roosters, just with a lower pitch due to their bigger size). They are also not “rare” in North America as claimed by Wikipedia. They were actually more common than a lot of other exotic breeds in the region we lived in, in Florida in the 1970s. Thus, even a breed of a chicken generates several myths and invalid ideas; tells me all I need to know about people regarding any potential for general credibility.

At any rate, in my dream, the necks of our turkens are very long and serpentine and giving me an eerie feeling that they might become dangerous, even venomous. In another part of the same dream, a pet young black-and-white Polish rooster named “Sluggo”, very similar in appearance to a French mottled Houdan (of which I had a rooster of one called “Fonzie” and his hen “Pinkie”) is not moving as he is facing towards me. After a time, I understand that he is completely flat (front to back, while standing), and perhaps not alive (I am not sure - but being alive in such a form seems worse than not) and feel even more eerie and “out-of-place”. Time passes, and a group of miniature (not bantam, just “shrunken”) various hens are doing the can-can and for some reason, giving me a nightmarish feeling. Some of the small quail we have in a larger cage on the ground in the shed seem to explode, but they are still there afterwards somehow, in sort of blurred patterns with very ruffled feathers. I awake feeling nervous and ill, but am not actually ill a few minutes later.