Blue_Opossum

Morning of August 29, 2016. Monday.



My dream curiously starts out at the King Street boarding house (where I have not been since the early 1990s). I do have some memories of my present life status but it is distorted and also changes before my dream ends. I start mowing the lawn, but oddly, for whatever indeterminable reason, continue to mow all the way to the north side of La Crosse via the causeway through the marsh (though which is more like normal land in my dream). I may in fact be working for the street department as I did in real life, though that was mostly for Onalaska.

I feel very happy and satisfied as I somehow walk all that way, while mowing yet, without getting tired, even somehow casually mowing over some rather large bushes with thick trunks. I feel a bit helpful for others in the area in doing this. Strangely, without even considering it odd or impossible, I end up at the corner of Hamilton Road and Stadcor Street in Wavell Heights (Brisbane, Australia), instead of where I should be, that is, George Street and Sill Street (Wisconsin, America).

On this composite corner of the two locations, where we never lived in reality (though we did live on Stadcor Street farther down from Hamilton Road), there is another version of my family, though I am somewhat confused about it as I am also there (rather - “another me”). My “other” son Lorenzo, a child of the “other” us, is playing near the street. About four police officers are near our front entrance talking with the “other” us. Our house resembles a composite of our present home, the Stadcor Street house, and the Barolin Street house. They apparently had brought Lorenzo home after he had unknowingly wandered off. I start to mow “our” front yard, but the officers remind me that my job is to only mow the public areas.

From here, I mow along what is either Stadcor Street or Sill Street but which ends in an area similar in appearance to where it would have begun near the George Street turn off, not at the end of the street on the other side. The particular corner lot also seems rotated ninety degrees north to east as well as duplicated to the north. This puzzles me quite a bit even though my memory of the composite could not be right anyway (due to the fact it is a composite and not a real layout). I am not sure where I should continue from here, though it is not quite a dead-end, as there may be an intersection that would imply either Corowa Street or Wood Street (though which would imply Loomis Street is “missing”).

As I continue to try to only now work out where I am, I notice a large unlikely feature in the center of the empty lot which now seems to be a park. It looks just like an old mausoleum. This gives me a very eerie sense of mortality and I am soon wary about where I am. Still, I consider that it may not actually be a mausoleum, as why would there only be one in the center of a public park?

Looking more closely, I see a large clock face over what would otherwise be the entrance, which seems like a miniature version of Big Ben. This slowly convinces me that it may not be a mausoleum (as why would a large clock face block a mausoleum entrance) but perhaps meant as a city tribute of some kind. I am still in awe over the very eerie and ancient-looking feature and I do not go any farther. (I do not recall the time that was on the clock as I did not note it while in my dream. It may have indicated the real time, though this is not certain).

Morning of July 5, 2016. Tuesday.



This dream starts off with quite honestly the worst visual pun I have seen in ages. I am looking into a parking lot and see that something is not quite right. Instead of the cars having a windshield and upper section, it is a thumb in such a manner as the thumbnail implies the car’s windshield. Still, the scene does not really seem that bizarre to me and in fact, eventually triggers otherwise unrelated sequences.

Next, there is a thumb with windshield wipers moving over the thumbnail. This image is greatly magnified though the closeup perspective is not realistic. The windshield wipers have too much mechanical detail and exaggerated distance from each other (relative to one over the other and seeming farther out than it should). Eventually these “windshield wipers” become more like a minute hand and an hour hand reading fifteen minutes to three (or two forty-five). During this time, there are also glimpses of watching the slightly twitching needle of a pressure gauge. Sometimes when going back to the “fingernail wipers” they seem more like black hairs that just fall off the surface.

The perspective of my dream shifts, similar to when one jumps from visual sequences into a more corporeal state. A car has been abandoned at the top of a hill with all of its doors left open. It is raining. The windshield wipers are the minute hand and hour hand of a clock, again suggesting two forty-five or a quarter to three. They move slightly but fall back, and the position remains at about a quarter to three. It seems at first to be some sort of sign relating to mortality. However, it is more likely a circadian rhythms feature as it relates to the nature of time. I begin to walk towards the car and instead become the car which is also a clock.

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Upon seeing the above image, Zsuzsanna caught the play on “thumb drive” instantly, with no other hint.

Morning of September 1, 2015. Tuesday.



I seem to be focused on Loomis Street yet again. However, there are also emotions and realizations associated with our present bedroom on W Street (though it does not quite seem like a typical composite, and yet the setting is limited to the one room, though).

My attention is mostly on an unusual “clock”. It does not apparently serve as a clock though, but some sort of answering machine (though I do not recall having this type of concept appearing in any previous dream).

Only the hour hand is implemented but it does not serve as time-keeping in any way. There is seemingly no minute hand or second hand and the number six, in its proper location, is the only number on the face of the clock.

I move the hour hand to the left (from where it was near the number six), to around where the number eight would be expected to be, and start to hear pleasant music. As I put it in different positions, I hear a lot of very nice music, a lot of it tribal, but with no voices at any point. The audio is very clear (though I do not become lucid).

After spending seemingly at least fifteen minutes listening to very nice music (which apparently is related to being connected to our telephone and plays when we are not home to answer it), I move the hour hand over to the right around where the number four would be expected to be. From around where the number two would be expected to be to that location, there are recordings of my wife or me telling the caller to leave a message, and some of the messages are meant to be in-jokes. I listen to these recordings for a short time (much shorter than when I was enjoying the music) and my dream fades.

Morning of March 25, 2015. Wednesday.



My family and I are living at our present address on W street though it is somewhat different. The area east of us is more like a rural area with less buildings and includes at least one large empty lot. There is a wall clock featured that either is - or is designed to look like - an antique wall clock. The top section is octagonal (same shape as a stop sign - may be an association here with “stopping time” in a “wishful thinking” sort of way) and the bottom section primarily vertically rectangular.

The clock is the main focus of my dream though we also have a garden where the shed is in reality, covering about half of the backyard on the far side. I notice that there are very tall healthy plants, not sure of the variety, that are taller than a person. I briefly contemplate whether or not other people will be annoyed by this in their not being able to casually “spy” on us.

There is also a scene where a very old lady (unknown and unfamiliar) with a seeming cheerful disposition is smoking a cigarette in the (fictional) empty lot east of our house. I notice another cigarette (long, but with no filter) in a shallow narrow ditch (running east and west) in the ground and actually smoke it (even though there is no act of lighting it other than with my in-dream thoughts though I am not lucid). Although I am not a smoker in real life and rarely smoke in my dreams, the usual occurs. Small pieces of tobacco annoyingly fill my mouth from the tip each time I inhale from it. At one point, I exhale, and an amount of smoke far more than would be possible flows from my mouth as I sit on the ground. The old lady seems to be looking for the rest of her cigarettes which she had apparently dropped but continues walking east. There is also at least one unknown older male (about forty) standing around at the time on the north side of the ditch. (There is a very subtle geometrical redundancy as dreams tend to have at times. The cigarette lying longways in the small ditch is similar to the elongated drill-bit-like cog fitting in the semi-circular recess of the clock’s door in the next scene.)

The scene with the clock is fairly long and complex. The only character other than my wife and children at this point is a black-haired young female “servant” (though implied to be divine or angelic, though without the typical mirror-like eyes in this case). She is the one that starts the idea of the work on the clock involving the refurbishing of three different gears. Other than that, the clock seems mostly hollow of working parts but is still implied to work well again when repaired. Her intent to “restore” me (via the clock) seems devotional and selfless (though my wife unknowingly triggered a Blue Pearl event - brighter than usual - when I was in a health-affirming state the other night, just with her mental state at the time from a different room - thus the girl may also represent a young version of my wife - also yet again supplying evidence that the Blue Pearl is related to either direct communication between real soul mates or an entity or mechanism that acts on their behalf).

Paying close attention, I note that one gear, a slightly elongated cog that almost reminds me of a piece of a drill bit, is quite small and goes into the top edge of the clock’s “door” into a long semi-circular recess closest to the hinged side, though still has something to do with the timing mechanism rather than just the door uniformity and latching. Another cog is fairly large, about one-sixth the size of the clock and goes in the lower left side of the back of the clock’s hollow area. It has the typical inward-pointing rounded triangular hollows of radial symmetry, I believe five of them (likely representing the five fingers). The last cog is about half the size of the previous and goes between the door and the rest of the clock somehow, near the center of the back of the clock’s face. Apparently this work is metaphorical of restoring a certain level of well-being, which did have an effect on my real body after waking in a positive sense.

This dream was partially a result of generic health-affirming work. Although it is possible to script, write, and incubate a dream exactly as wanted (at any level of in-dream awareness) in every detail with my own lifelong methods, I often use very general terms (such as “thank you for restoring me to maximum well-being” or “thank you for returning me to my healthiest state” and thousands of others) and no plot-based constructs in this case. It is also important to understand the continuity of these phrases (most people get them wrong or use incorrectly worded ones - as most commercial products have incorrect methods implemented which is something I have noted for nearly thirty years - though in some cases a placebo-based event may result with certain people). Supplements of the phrases here should be “thank you for my restoration to maximum well-being” and “thank you for my return to my healthiest state”. This is because other levels of consciousness process word forms in a different manner than the wakeful conscious mind, especially gerunds; for example, as mentioned in another entry, “healing” can have many meanings, including an “infinite now” of NOT ever healing (since ”-ing" implies ongoing and never actually completing).

The smoking scene in my dream is likely related to a product I was aware of years ago and often joked about. It was a cassette which I read about, supposedly designed to help people quit smoking. The approach used in affirmation was completely wrong and ludicrous. It was typical of invalid dream-work-based or self-hypnosis-based commercial products of the time where negative terms were used and the focus on what was NOT wanted was implemented (for example, saying “I will quit smoking” is pointless at several levels).

Morning of October 11, 2014. Saturday.



This is a soothing dream at first. I am in an unknown location, seemingly inside the large room of a mansion. Sparkling dust motes “swim” in the air.

There is a rather odd setup. A very large and complex dollhouse, I believe of three storeys, is in one corner of the room, almost as if it is a part of the design of the house (and big enough for a person to go into). It has a sort of combined Grecian and Victorian appearance. Sunlight is coming in through large windows. On the roof of the dollhouse, in front, is a large complex clock. There are white monotone angel statues built into the clock. Their subtle wing movements somehow relate to the clock.

An unknown darker-haired younger girl appears. She says “elaborate”. In fact, that is all she does say, several times. No attempt at any form of communication results in anything but “elaborate”. She pronounces it as an adjective (not the verbal pronunciation). I think perhaps she is saying it to describe the environment. I am fairly sure she may live here somewhere. No actual communication ensues. It is rather amusing, probably more amusing than frustrating.

“What is your name?”

No response.

Long pause.

“Elaborate." (Over time, she says "elaborate” at least six times.)

The feathers on the wings of the angels on the clock seem to flutter at times, but that may be an optical illusion caused by subtle motion of the rays of sun. I think the wings themselves move up and down (over time) with the minute hand.

Morning of December 20, 2010. Monday.



Feeling relaxed, as I step through green grass of about knee length (apparently being barefoot and wearing shorts as I can feel the velvety grass against my legs and feet), into an area closer to the shore of a pristine lake, I feel very peaceful. There is no one else present. It seems to be late morning or afternoon.

Eventually, evening seems to be approaching. I am not surprised (at least at first) when I turn my head to my right and see the tower Big Ben. I even consider that it may be a feature of the building I live in (though without a thread of memory of what country I live in). However, I do start to become puzzled by the nature of time and how it seemed to be afternoon only a short time ago. Still, I do not have any negative thoughts or worries. I continue to sit by the shore of the lake, feeling content.

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My dream self does not seem aware of it being my 50th birthday. The clock tower as an emergent consciousness symbol is rendered via circadian rhythms factors (and the later stages of the sleep cycle) but additionally in this case, may also represent mortality. It is also qualified as being this dream’s waking space prompt and is additionally associated with the puzzle of being between dreaming and waking. This is because my older sister Marilyn often bought Milton Bradley Big Ben jigsaw puzzles. The lake symbolizes being in a specific stage of the sleep cycle, while the clock mainly represents the waking precursor.

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Morning of October 5, 1983. Wednesday.



In my dream, I am watching the news in my L-shaped room at the end of the hall (and to the right) in the King Street boarding house. The television is in a similar location as it is in real life - in about the middle of the longest rectangular area (but is color instead of black and white), but turned perpendicularly towards the east where I am apparently seated or in bed. I am not that aware, but I am focused on the imagery and sound of the television news report.

Over time, I become more and more clear on where I am and what I am seeing within my dream. The man on television is about thirty and wearing a necktie of mostly blue and orange. In real life, the sustained buzzing of my alarm clock had started. This causes my dream to take on a rather bizarre change. The man I am watching on the television starts grabbing at his neck immediately as he is saying “and they are going to…mahhhhhh” - his voice warping flawlessly into the alarm clock sound (the implied word seeming to be “make”, yet only the m is human-like). The buzzing alarm clock sound is coming from his open mouth and he is desperately trying to loosen his tie, continuing to clutch at his throat as it buzzes, with his visage being more and more horrified. After a fairly short time, I am aware that I am coming out of my dream state.

This is a very good example of a dream that is apparently completely lacking in meaning or foresight (at least at one level - I did not document all the nuances of the in-dream news report) and suddenly truncated (or “interrupted”, assuming my dream was “going anywhere” in plot) by a real-life event, in this case, real-life audio - as in probably about equally occurring contrast to in-dream precognition or foreshadowing that somehow builds up to align with a real and unexpected sound not yet present while sleeping. In those cases, some people make the mistake of assuming the sound may have caused the dream’s outcome. However, in some cases, the dream was already seemingly building up to the not yet occurring sound (again, unlike in the case of this entry where my dream was unexpectedly “destroyed” by the intrusive sound) - thus a form of obvious real-time precognition in the other dream type I have never read about elsewhere. I have experienced it myself fairly often.