Blue_Opossum

Morning of June 29, 2018. Friday.



I had been listening to one of my latest music productions, which has somewhat of a carnival sound, though has a strong reggae rhythm. It seems to be late morning. The setting is implied to be our current home.

There is an unfamiliar male present in our bedroom, though I do not see him as an intruder. (This is the interconsciousness avatar.) Sitting on the edge of the bureau near the west window in our lounge room is the ventriloquist dummy I had as a boy. It was known as “Willie Talk”.

As the music becomes louder, the dummy starts moving, taking on the essence of a marionette being controlled by an invisible force. (In the back of my mind however, I am vaguely aware I am causing this to happen.) It almost seems to have a human essence, though still moves like a marionette. The dummy eventually jumps forward onto the floor and starts dancing to the music. There is an amazingly vivid presence of rhythm and energy.

He circles around the couch, in a marching jig toward our bed and I wake around this time.

---

A ventriloquist dummy is an emergent consciousness simulacrum (see notes below), which is a form of neural energy that links the dream self, by way of the transpersonal interconsciousness, by way of the preconscious, to the conscious self identity. It is triggered by the reticular formation of the human brain and serves the same purpose as a preconscious or RAS avatar, that is, to initiate consciousness and the ability to physically move. In many cases, such an avatar is seen as going “back” to bed, though in some lucid dreams, it is seen as “waking” and leaving its bed, which is obvious autosymbolism for the level of dream self presence in the dream state. In other cases, it merges into the dreamer (such as in my “Part-Robot-Girl?” from November 17, 1989), an example of waking process coalescence (another very common factor of my dreams).

This dream is a specific type of vestibular system correlation autosymbolism, of which goes from inactive (static) to dynamic as I move toward the preconscious modulation of the waking process (by way of reticular formation mediation). It is mostly an autosymbolic rendering of thoughts like “I have to get up now” that pass through the mind prior to waking for the day. Autosymbolism is very easy to trace back to the underlying cause.

In simple terms, this means that my perception of my illusory dream body is not viably physical (as my physical body is asleep and beyond my immediate control), and as a result, my non-lucid association with my dream self’s “body” is ambiguous and is projected into the concept of a doll (serving as an emergent consciousness simulacrum), which then dances as waking process autosymbolism, even heading “back” towards our bed. (I have had many dreams like this since childhood, so I know exactly what it means, as I have been aware of the same process in subliminal, liminal, and lucid dreaming scenarios, simultaneously understanding the meaning, so even my need to explain it in the first place should be unnecessary to anyone of reasonable intelligence.)

To validate this (and perhaps develop a better understanding of what dreams are and what they are doing) and what I have written in thousands of other dream journal entries, see “The Preconscious Mind and Gamma Band Activity in the Reticular Activating System”.

This dream has ZERO to do with memory processing or waking life symbolism as disinformation agents claim (neither of which is even typically possible other than in apex lucidity). They are both autosymbolic and literal events synthesized in REAL TIME (mainly by the preconscious and interconsciousness) while experiencing REM sleep. Although this particular dream is not directly related to waking life (at this time), it most certainly has cause and meaning as all dreams do and most dreams are far easier to decode than most people habitually pretend.

---

#stop_dream_disinfo_now (On Twitter)

---

Morning of November 23, 2017. Thursday.



I am living with my wife Zsuzsanna and our family as we are now at our present address. However, many threads of my conscious self identity become reduced over time until the waking transition. I leave our house, apparently to get something from a store, but end up walking south which soon ambiguously becomes north as my association is mixed with Wisconsin (where I have not lived since February 1994). It seems to be nighttime.

Over time, I am not sure where I am going but I continue to walk along the side of the road. I notice snow on the side of the road. My dream self does not consider how this area looks nothing like the area we live in real life. The fact that I do not know at all what is ahead does not bother me.

I remain as far from the middle of the road as possible as a few cars pass now and then. I consider that I am walking in an area where pedestrians are not allowed, though there is no sign indicating such. Soon, the snow banks on each side of the road are higher.

Eventually, I see an older couple in a station wagon. They are going in the opposite direction I am, down the side of the mountain, which is not that steep in this section. The unknown older lady asks me if the roads are clear for cars in the direction I had been walking from. I tell her that the roads are okay to drive through, as I had walked a considerable distance.

Following a curve in the road, which is now seemingly one lane and easterly, I eventually end up walking through a square tunnel. A thin layer of ice covers the walls. One car goes by me during this time, going in the opposite direction. By following the road, I somehow end up inside a business building. I stealthily walk through, noticing three people talking in one office. I view this through an indoor window. There are other offices on each side of a hallway. I am puzzled as to how to get back to the road, as I had just been on it prior to illogically finding myself here.

I enter a large room which seems like a public restaurant with round wooden tables sparsely arranged. An unknown male approaches me with a large flat piece of cardboard shaped like a person, painted over to represent a chubby male in informal clothes, and with eye holes to look through the face. The face is not that realistic and has a mustache. The piece has red vinyl straps connected (possibly by tacks) around the two-dimensional upper arms to hold it over my shoulders and upper arms, though my arms can still move freely. I am to wear it over the front of my body, though its legs are too long by at least a foot and bend out in front of me when I wear it, horizontally dragging and remaining against the floor. The other male is puzzled, though I do not tell him that I am not involved in whatever is going on. Instead, I say, “I am the stand-in”, and he seems to understand.

I am to dance with another male who is not in such an odd cardboard cutout “costume”. He is unknown and sitting at a table with a few other people, mostly female. He is wearing a cowboy outfit with a fancy hat. Curiously, he also has some sort of red straps attached to his shoulders for no discernible reason.

I start dancing on my own and my moves and balance feel perfect. The other people are seemingly amazed by how well I am moving (especially considering the odd cardboard “costume” covering the front of my body). I dance and feel a sense of well-being for several minutes. It seems I will be filmed as part of test footage until the real actors or performers show up. However, I eventually do not feel like being a part of this scenario anymore, mainly due to not being confident about either waltz moves (where I visualize hands shoulder to shoulder and the other arms out horizontally with hands clasped, towards the direction of movement) or dancing with a male (who reminds me vaguely of Burt Reynolds at about sixty), and deliberately leave the dream state with very clear intent even though I had not been lucid at any point, yet with the knowledge I had deliberately created much of my dream from the beginning. This has happened often throughout my life. It is a type of non-lucid dream control.

---

Factors like non-lucid dream control (creating or influencing the dream without realizing it is a dream, typically not even remembering what a dream is) and literal prescience (with too much detail to be coincidence, including finding and marrying my beautiful literal dream girl) cannot be explained at all by what the majority seem to believe and experience. What part of the mind or extent of threads of conscious self identity and ephemeral synthesized fictional dream self viewpoints or combinations thereof account for this? How does one wake themselves so easily and intentionally from a dream without actively knowing it is a dream up to that very point? (This is not the same as knowing it is a dream and deliberately waking.) These concepts of course, are only part of the great puzzle of my life.

---

Morning of August 18, 2015. Tuesday.



This was after my most interesting dream of this date. In this case, it seems Zsuzsanna and I are within an “invisible” geodesic dome (one of the main settings for higher levels of communication, it seems) which is quite large. It would have to be to contain an entire carnival within. The carnival is apparently “closed”. It is late at night. There are blue lights here and there that provide minimal illumination.

My wife and I walk along, half walking, half dancing, so cheerful, not caring that no one is operating this rather odd carnival. At one point, I see a “roller coaster” moving about (though eventually actually more like a monorail) that is actually seemingly alive, glowing a sort of lighter green in contrast to the lights. A giant robotic spider “ride” walks around on its own for a short time, but is no threat in any way. (I even think I hear a human-like groan from it.) Still, there are no signs of any other people (yet).

The fortune-teller booth (from “Batman Forever”) sits in one area. We acknowledge it humorously but minimally as we go around in a somewhat circular path. We puzzle at it as being everyman. It cannot seem to make up its mind about where it wants to “go”. It laughs eerily and artificially but cannot move out of the booth as only its fake arm sways back and forth randomly. It seems “stuck” in its one sad little “role”.

The song “Bad Days” (by the Flaming Lips) plays over and over eventually and our dance-walk seems even more cheerful.

“You’re sorta stuck where you are, But in your dreams you can buy expensive cars, Or live on Mars, And have it your way…”

The watermelon scene in the music video reminds me so much of home…

“In your dreams, Show no mercy…”

Oh sure, it is an awful, terrible song, with awful, terrible music, but it is such a charming novelty and reminds me of the first couple of years I spent with Zsuzsanna.

The “fortune teller” comes out of the booth, now a real man for the first time ever, somewhat chubby and gray-haired, it seems, and dressed normally, informally. He snaps his fingers, kicks his heels, and walks up an elevated path over a hill (seemingly westward). I know that we will never see him again and I never see his face, and he never turns to look back at us.

“And all your bad days will end, You have to sleep late when you can, And all your bad days will end”…

Someone is knocking on 104. Knocking. Knocking. Knocking on the door (just like in the music video at that part of the song). Someone is knocking on our door at 104. (In real life, same number, exact time - synchronized with my dream’s residual rhythm.) It is a parcel delivery for our oldest daughter, which she soon gets.

I have slept later than usual as the real knocking on 104 wakes me.

Oh, Source, you so funny.

Night of April 10, 1989. Monday.



I am at my sister Marilyn’s house in La Crosse (on Loomis Street). It is fairly late at night. My brother-in-law Bob is watching television (and “not socially present”) as usual and I think my sister is working on a latch-hook rug. Brother Dennis and sister’s friend CS are also there.

Over time, bees get in the house through the front porch. I am very annoyed at the thought, as they pose a threat (though I am not allergic) in my dream (but I have nothing against them in real life). Eventually, I go outside onto the street (not in the middle, but to one side - the west, closet to my sister’s house, where cars usually park). I start dancing and singing in what is somewhat like a slow version of the Shawnee Stomp Dance.

Curiously, some clouds gather over the full moon and it starts to rain. The bees start to land on me, but the rain washes them away and I start to feel more and more ecstatic, moving my head about and surrendering to the amazing sensations of rain on my body.

I am watched from the doorway as if people are concerned about me. Apparently, they seem to think it is better to sit inside the house and get stung by bees than to be out dancing in the rain and getting wet. For some reason, this (their amazing ignorance) only inspires me to dance with more enthusiasm and sing louder and louder, feeling more and more blissful while giving thanks to the dark night sky above me that delivers the purity (in my dream) of the rain.

I am aware of their shadows in the doorway as if from a “lower” world or plane or beyond/below infrared. They stay inside as a feeling of beauty overwhelms me, almost like ecstasy, which leaves me breathless and feeling as if I am suddenly flying, seemingly formless, at an incredible speed into green fields.

---

Morning of November 3, 1977. Thursday.



This was one of the only times a dream seemed to be interrupted by a different dream in an atypical, somewhat startling fashion. I was in one dream and then another dream “broke into it” like a radio broadcast very suddenly “drowning out” another with a completely different degree of awareness.

My second dream was much more vivid than the first (and with growing lucidity). In the first dream, I seem to be at a television studio yet not fully present (not disembodied, just not directly in the environment), the ceiling being about twelve feet high. The New Mouseketeers, all dressed in plain white clothes, seem to be involved in some sort of unlikely science-fiction movie or televised special (perhaps live) but they are also dancing on roller skates and moving past the camera several times without the camera panning in any way. When I look around, I mostly see very large white cubes, almost like steps (but too tall to use as steps and about three cubes high closest to the walls), but possibly containers. It seems fairly dark and isolated in some areas of the huge building (but not completely dark in any areas) and the otherwise featureless warehouse-like setting. Their dancing, motions, and singing (which I think the main line or title is “The World’s a Balloon”) becomes slightly annoying (almost perceived as bizarre) though they seem to be getting a bit more enthusiastic and practiced in their performance, almost frenzied in fact, but in a comedic sense.

Suddenly, there is a clearer awareness of mood and location that jumps like a needle on a record and I am in a different dream flying over Key West almost as if I had been plucked from one dream (of a completely different level of clarity and awareness) and put into another. Even the depth perception seems quite different and somewhat enhanced. A very long bridge stretches out over the ocean as I watch the cars move over it as I fly along. It is extremely vivid though the ocean is a deep purple. Everything else looks normal including the sky. Dreams do have a tendency to jump from scene to scene in some cases, but this was actually like a different type of experience, like actually “changing channels” and a quite different mental awareness at the same time.

---