Blue_Opossum

Morning of May 14, 2018. Monday.



In my dream, a rare event with a (fictitious) computer game is rendered. (There is no waking life source for any of the imagery or content and I have not played any sort of computer game in real life for months.) The setting is unknown, though it is implied to be our present home. As my dream self is not my conscious self, my dream self ignores the fictitious environment as not being our real home as is most often the case, and accepts it as our home. Still, there is always the potential for liminal dream control (dream control without lucidity or even recall of what a dream is).

The main goal of the game has something to do with touching objects to the television screen to make parts of the image disappear (a clever play on synaptic gating while in the dream state). The television is larger than our real one. The image is that of what is apparently an unrealistic (cartoon) dragon. There is not much else, that is, no presence of a defined background or setting.

Before RAS mediation kicks in, I play one game level while sitting on a couch a few feet from the large television. I have some sort of patch that was utilized in the code, of which allows the objects needed to materialize automatically in the container on my lap, supposedly without going through other levels or meeting certain challenges of the game. These objects look like dinosaur and dragon limbs and so on, and again, the correct pieces must be touched to the television screen to make the correlating image on the screen disappear (which realistically, is ridiculously easy, though again, their materialization is based upon other challenges when not using the cheat patch). I successfully do this in the first instance of the game.

RAS mediation kicks in, and a form of RAS personification, an unknown young male, is rendered to my right, also sitting on the couch. I talk to him about the patch that makes the game quicker to play and win. However, I forget to press F2 to activate the patch and this results in an error. The objects that materialize in the container on my lap are more random. One of them is some sort of brush with a short handle, somewhat like a miniature stiff paintbrush. I get up and use it on the television screen, but it scratches the screen near the top and does not make any part of the image disappear. I notice a few long diagonal scratches and I am annoyed, as this has ruined part of the screen. I tell the unknown male that I had forgotten to press F2, and that random objects had appeared in the container as a result.

I go off to inform Zsuzsanna of this, and looking back, see that the scratches are only visible at certain angles, but they will probably still cause picture distortion. I look again when coming back into the room and see small equidistant rectangular “windows” in the screen on the upper right, as if parts of the screen had been deliberately cut out. I know that I had not caused this damage and I am puzzled. My brother-in-law Bob (not seen since 1994, when I left America) walks about randomly. I also notice a number of other people but I do not feel imposed upon in this case. My dream fades.

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Well, the imagery of the cartoon orange dragon, I just saw at the very top of the newsfeed on Facebook after writing this (as most of my dreams contain imagery, at one point or another, of something I see a short time later in real life - I do not consider this unusual, only something that people cannot explain, though many just deny it due to it being beyond their understanding and apparent experience). Thus, the “no waking life source” I wrote above instead turned out to have the usual prescience, which was a drawing (of a dragon) another dream journalist had posted on Facebook, additionally oriented as in my dream (facing left). I did not use that picture for this entry, as I did not ask them. (It had been posted 14 hours ago at this time, but this is the first time I had seen it.) Instead, I used a similar image as from my dream.

The rest of my dream is typical autosymbolism for the dream state and waking transition. The small seemingly cutout sections of the television screen represent our four clerestory windows in real life, a literal factor of real life integrating into the otherwise fictitious dream setting. A window, as well as a television screen, is an autosymbolic function that serves as a liminal space divider, the barrier between the transient fictitious dream self and the conscious self identity in waking life. (Liminal space dividers are rendered to prevent the development of false memories as the result of the dream state, especially as most dream content comes from the transpersonal levels of the preconscious and interconsciousness, not the unconscious of which is far more accessible in waking life anyway). As a dragon often has wings, this is the usual vestibular system correlation.

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Morning of January 27, 2018. Saturday.

Dream #: 18,667-02. Reading time (optimized): 1 min.



Zsuzsanna and Marilyn are present. (My dream self does not recall Marilyn had died.) We are in the Loomis Street house in the open area between the living room and dining room. I face west towards the dining room. I begin to play a computer game that my youngest son had been playing. It resembles a pool table, but there seems to be only one corner pocket. Several creatures of different sizes sit on it. I need to deliver the ball into the pocket before an animal gets to it, making it harder to play. There is also a gun with which I can shoot the animal.

As I play, Marilyn informs me about going out to buy a meal, talking about a hamburger, asking if I want one. I nod lightly. Meanwhile, the game becomes real. That is, there is now a pool table in the room, replacing the computer workstation. My dream self does not register the change. I am near one corner. There is a cat atop the table, but I am aware it is a computer-generated tangible hologram. I reach over to pick up the light gray rubber ball and hold it over the pocket to drop it in. I am unsure if this is the way to play, as it seems too simple in contrast to its previous difficulty. A different cat and ball appear, and I perform the same act again. My sense of touch as I pick up, hold, and drop the rubber ball, is augmented.

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Morning of December 17, 2017. Sunday.



In my dream, I am in an unknown house, though my sister Marilyn (deceased) is present. It is not seemingly implied to be the Loomis Street house. She appears as she did in the 1960s. I have no recall of her deceased status.

I have the awareness that a laptop computer does not use 3.5-inch disks (and that they are old technology), and yet I have no viable memory of the last twenty years of my life. (Dreams are strange that way.) Marilyn does mention this game as not being compatible with her computer. There is a set of about seven disks that are needed to install and run the game.

Eventually, we somehow get the game to work. It is holographic, though also seemingly solid at times, and fills nearly half of the unknown room. Two spherical aquariums appear on each side of the playing field, near the center of each side, where other features appear on each end, though I am mostly only focused on the aquariums. The virtual aquariums are about three feet high, though elevated to about five feet from the floor with a stand.

Apparently, the game involves some sort of event when an anthropomorphic fish emerges from at least one of the aquariums, though no actual game play ensues. There are some resets of this dream where parts repeat, though much is not that clearly defined.

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An aquarium represents the mental model of the nature of the dream state (in real time). In this case, the two spherical aquariums symbolize the sleeping minds of Zsuzsanna and me. The anthropomorphic fish would represent the emergent consciousness “coming out of sleep”, sleep of which is symbolized as water.

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RAS quantizes the mental model of the dream state in this way at times, more so when sleep is somewhat restless or with “intrusive” environmental factors, based on the analogy of being in a fishbowl when outside noise is more intrusive into sleep, otherwise vaguely similar in waking transition symbolism to the very common water lowering waking symbolism (which has occurred at least once per normal sleeping period for over fifty years, since earliest memory).

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Optimized 2 minute 30 second read.

Monday morning, 25 January 2016.

Game Frog (fascinating and rewarding real-world outcome)

Dream # 17,934-01.





I am with Zsuzsanna in an unfamiliar convenience store implied to be southwest of where we live in real life, seemingly on Electra Street (though I have not been there in waking life). The checkout counter is in the back instead of near the entrance.

Absentmindedly, I buy an incomplete computer game. At the checkout, I see a small white cardboard frog in the open box. I do not consider the cardboard prop an unlikely computer game item. The game also features a "lily pad," though it looks like a white paper crown. (See the first image if available.)

The cashier (an unfamiliar girl with protoconsciousness essence) calls the computer game's designer at his house, claiming one side of the cardboard frog "needs adjustment."

The faux frog spontaneously "activates" and hops off the counter. It may be a version of Frogger that utilizes the environment as its playing field. I consider it is programmed to cross the street and dodge traffic but would require the player to control it when functioning correctly.

I notice a cat investigating an aisle. The cat spontaneously flies backward because of a function of the game triggered by the frog's location.

I lose interest in buying the game because I do not feel like trying to maneuver an artificial frog through traffic, especially since the game is malfunctioning.

After leaving the store, Zsuzsanna and I see a different cat (unfamiliar) that could be a stray. It has long, light gray hair. I pick it up to carry home to feed it. I soon have a vague impression it may belong to someone who lives near the store.

Zsuzsanna turns left to go through the open hall of a building, through the back, as a shortcut. I assume it has apartments on both sides of the otherwise publicly accessible corridor. I do not follow her. I go around the building, hoping she stays safe, but I am mentally prepared to defend her.

Three unfamiliar men harass her as she does laundry on a porch-like area. She has a nonchalant attitude, but one of them pushes her. I am suddenly holding my Olympic barbell (without weights), and I swing it several times. I strike them all in the stomach until none of them can stand.

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After my dream, our youngest son Oliver found a toy frog and a paper crown on the sidewalk while walking between our home and the shopping mall. (See the second image if available.)

Despite my dream's narrative aligning with the usual processes resulting from REM sleep, its real-world outcome was rewarding.

Animals typically correspond with how I perceive and manage my imaginary physicality while sleeping. A frog correlates with intuitive myoclonic dynamics because its back legs kick. The computer game implication implies cognizance of this process while dreaming, as does the "crown." In contrast to leg myoclonus, abdominal myoclonus results in me striking the men's stomachs "until none of them can stand." (I am not standing while sleeping.)

Anyone with reasonable intelligence and who dreams with lucidness would recognize how predictable REM sleep dynamics predominantly influence dream content over waking-life factors. It is especially discernible here with the first's cat myoclonic response, carrying the second cat near my stomach, the association with laundry (being undressed while sleeping), and the transition to hitting the men in their stomachs.

Protoconsciousness as the store's cashier reporting the frog's problematic attributes to its unseen designer corresponds with the dynamics of my sleeping position regarding myoclonic precursors, as a store's checkout anticipates the ending of a dream or dream segment. These dynamics have influenced hundreds of previous dreams in similar ways.

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Morning of April 27, 2015. Monday.



As I have stated in other entries, I have come to learn that many in-dream events (especially those in final scenarios) are little more than a metaphor for the sleeping, dreaming, and waking processes themselves (though may have other viable and eventually validated associations, including precognition and visually exact remote viewing). This was obvious to me even as a child and this dream is a good example of that.

In my dream, I am in my home (though rendered as being much larger and more spacious for where the game console is) and I am playing some sort of first person computer game which is probably projected halfway up onto the southwest wall so that the top of the image of the playing field is near the ceiling - this setup of which is sparsely recurring but which I have never witnessed in reality. As I have rarely played computer games in real life over the past several years (other than “Doom” and “Age of Empires”), my dream is lacking more significant real-life associations. I am not even sure if it is a first person shooter. There is someone else in my dream, a younger unknown male, and I am possibly testing the game for him or his company as the game seems to be in a debug mode.

As I maneuver through the maze-like game, there is really nothing to do except move and turn through hallways, though sometimes with unusual transparent “rods” at a corner stopping me from more freely making a turn - it is almost like moving past and pulling at a passive diagonally positioned wire-frame sea anemone (positioned near a set of about four wider steps to another hallway entrance) though nothing breaks; everything falls back into position if my maneuvering stretches parts of the environment (which is not that often). The look of the game is similar to the setting of “Doom” (though without any enemies) except there is no weapon in the foreground and the scenery has a semi-transparent appearance with wire-frame rendering in some areas (though not very extensive in detail) and mostly everything is a very light blue. Still, I am enjoying my success in getting through many hallways and ninety-degree turns though again, little else happens. In some cases, a wall facing me is slightly hard to distinguish from the entrance to a hallway.

Finally, making one turn to my left, a fairly short human-like furry “monster” of a darker blue emerges from a normal wooden door (not a real threat as it is just imagery in a computer game) though just stands in the doorway, and I soon begin to wake, being somewhat annoyed that this means that the game is over and that I need to start again from the beginning even though the figure (vaguely seeming more human-like over time) does not do anything. There is no option to shoot anything or even “attack”, apparently.

Playing a computer game in a dream could be a metaphor for a type of less involved dreaming and separating yourself from a deeper or more personal dream state (in this case, likely from sleeping a bit too long and literally needing to wake up and stretch - as my game involved walking around and exploring and wire-frame structures that were stretching) just as dreaming of watching television is not being directly in one’s dream but being an outside observer and not integrated into one’s imagination more intimately.

Doors opening most often represent waking or the need to wake - especially leaping through the doorway to escape from something and waking up at that exact moment (though sometimes relative to shifting in in-dream awareness when going through a particular doorway, which could actually draw you deeper into the dream). There are exceptions. “The Furry Orange Monster” (from October 30, 1970) ends in a very similar manner as this dream (though that one had two distinct layers of precognition). At any rate, the appearance of the monster in the doorway represents my conscious self waking my dream self (even though I do not see myself as a “monster” - this is likely just an incidental association with the computer game scenario and not having seen any characters in the game prior to this - though bear in mind it did become more human-like during the waking process). As one added note on “The Furry Orange Monster”, I strongly detect an in-dream “replacement” metaphor. This time it represents me, although in my older dream, it turned out to be my older brother Jim wearing a Halloween costume. I have experienced many replacement metaphors in my life - it is another aspect of dreaming (though probably not that common) that I have never seen anyone else write about.

This becomes more obvious from a common lucid dream ability I used to use a lot in the 1980s and early 1990s; that is, closing a door with a wave of my hand and using telekinesis often made my dream far more “automatic” in my control of it in general, as I had then “closed” (”weakened”) the metaphor for waking up, causing a higher awareness in my dream self each time I performed the act.

Morning of September 3, 2011. Saturday.



This dream situation and skewed perspective has been a very sparsely recurring scene, going as far back as age five (when first documented on Rose Street), though in this particular case, it was inspired more by a computer game than a toy racing track as such in the past. In most versions of this recurring concept, there is some degree of confusion in in-dream perspective (usually disembodied) over what is horizontal and what is vertical, even more so in this dream, probably due to the perspective of the computer game influence in being an “overhead view” yet viewed as vertical on the computer monitor.

Regardless of the number of movies and television shows I have seen with overhead views seen on the vertical, this skewed perspective is not as common in (at least my own) dreams as I would expect, though I do strongly believe that a lot of screwed-up aspects of dreams have been caused by watching imagery on a television or movie screen (though again, not as much as one would expect - for example, the size orientation of even human heads when viewed on television or especially on a movie screen does not cause as many dreams about giants or tiny people as one would expect or even as much distorted perspectives as would seem reasonable otherwise - although I did notice a major change in my dreams since watching television when younger - including zooming in or zooming out, sudden location shifts becoming more common, unexpected panning, and so on).

In this version of my dream, I am closely watching miniature cars (about half the size of a Matchbox Car) driving over the surface of the kitchen table (though back at Gellibrand Street it seems, though the setting does not seem consistent), over what looks like a set of about four miniature highways (which take up about two-thirds of the area of the tabletop). I am sometimes aware of small buildings, but they are not three-dimensional and look painted-on (and even the cars look “flat” at times). I seem to be floating around in my dream’s environment, disembodied. As is typical of this dream type, the top of the table seems to shift to where I am additionally watching a (fictional) plane that is vertical and by which the cars apparently drive up and down perpendicularly to the tabletop and somehow flip over at ninety degrees to keep driving without apparent incident. I am also aware of “real” items on our table at some points, mostly salt and pepper shakers (which we actually do not even have on the table in reality). I am also very vaguely aware of this being a part of a computer game, but it is not as defined an awareness that would otherwise trigger my lucidity. I do not experience disorientation, just an uncertainty at times of what the angle and placement is of what I am viewing; that is, whether I am looking down at a horizontal plane, or before me at a vertical plane. This has really not been all that common a viewpoint in my dreams. Also, the highway remains a highway, unlike railroad tracks in such a scenario that then sometimes become a ladder when rendered vertically.

Morning of May 24, 1997. Saturday.

I am playing some sort of computer game that is like Pac-Man for the most part, but also has text adventure elements that appear on the screen. There are questions at different points depending on the area of the maze Pac-Man goes to. There also seem to be areas where passwords are required, of which I am not sure of the exact nature of but may be keywords obtained from going through the maze in a certain way.

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