Blue_Opossum

Morning of June 7, 2015. Sunday.



In the first part of my dream, I am disembodied and watching a large group of tribal people on an island (possibly Polynesian) dragging an overturned very large (prehistoric) living trilobite onto the beach. Apparently they are somehow getting a lot of edible meat from it. There is a bit of ambiguity as if there is something related to archaeology in the back of my mind. It does not seem to matter that trilobites were probably never this large and are also extinct, as the scene is extraordinarily vivid and “realistic” otherwise.

Later, there is a shift and more people (perhaps the same group) are capturing large turtles and somehow using the carapace as some sort of small boat that seems to be able to hold about three or four people. It seems fairly “realistic” but I doubt it would be feasible.

I am with some unknown and unfamiliar females, not tribal and not directly associated with the other groups to my knowledge. We are in a boat which is somewhat canoe-like (not a kayak) though the others are sculling in an area near shore - which may be in the ocean or a very large lake, though I do not sense it is competitive rowing (or regarding a need to hurry), at least not clearly. There is an abandoned windmill on shore which seems important. Somehow, four oars are jury-rigged as new blades for this windmill, which seems to happen almost instantly even though I sense or see little movement. This is perhaps some sort of composite joining. Windmills represent the dreaming process itself or level of lucidity (as does successfully traveling in a small boat over a large body of water) or extent of the connection to semi-consciousness. In the past, one dream where windmills were stopped or unmoving (and another from years ago regarding entering a painting of a windmill, though I had a recent one where someone else was ready to enter a painting with a windmill) represented being fully in my dream, as the windmill turning would imply conscious awareness and a windmill beginning to move might be related to the liminal level of waking consciousness, but this is probably not always the case.

I do not get out of the boat as there is something else I have to do before waking - to help with my physical existence and “uniformity” in my role of “pretending” to be human and to exist in the real world as such.

I eventually shift to where I am aware that I am in bed with my wife, though she is asleep and I am in a state of artificial “wakefulness”, though not full sleep paralysis - only very light sleep paralysis, as there is not the typical blissful awareness or wonderful waves of energy and oscillation that move from head to toe and back in such states. I am aware that, due to recent back pain, I have to go through several stages and need to maintain each stage for a certain number of minutes prior to waking.

First of all, I am a trilobite lying on my back in our bed, but I need to transform over time into other representations of whatever partially abstract line of thought or existence I am in. I do not move (or attempt to move) at any point. Still, I am well aware that I am becoming a lobster. Becoming a lobster is important and not uncomfortable, so I am a lobster for several minutes. I almost sense a level of transparency and a sort of “flatness”, yet still three-dimensional vertically (which is somewhat ambiguous in form). Of course, from here, the next “logical” step is to be in my scorpion form for awhile. Finally, my line of in-dream thought begins to become a bit too abstract and wavers slightly. Still, I know my next stage is to become a tarantula, though from that point, I am puzzled over how to “correctly” adapt physically and wake “correctly”. This is vaguely similar to where I transform into symbols (such as runes) or letters of the alphabet (though sometimes just random polygonal shapes) in the “correct” way while in the “correct” position.

Morning of July 6, 1985. Saturday.



Probably one of the most unusual clearer dreams I have had involved thinking I had awakened (in a very vivid “realistic” false awakening), only to find myself in persistent sleep paralysis (where I believe I actually did open my eyes at times). A box of Kraft macaroni and cheese (single serving) danced around in the air, screaming “Eat me! Eat me!” in a rather high-pitched raspy voice and it was shaking about like a loud rattle in my ears and face.

I feel great discomfort yet also feel the mildly pleasant body-wide tingling. I try to cover my head but it does not work very well. It seems to torment me for several minutes. As I finally begin to wake more fully, I notice a smaller moving silver engraving (like a photographic negative) of a heron and a bittern dressed up like elderly gentlemen (though the birds incorrectly rendered as being around the same size), with one in a top hat and the other in a derby, and with canes and fancy shoes, in a position moving away from near my door (King Street boarding house - the L-shaped room), on a table. Although they are implied to be walking westward, the imagery mostly remains in one area, as if I am seeing it on some sort of implied projection (as if on an unseen television otherwise).

As soon as I woke up, I went into the kitchen and cooked and ate that last box of macaroni and cheese. (Well…what would you have done?) I was not “starving” but I had regularly been eating a lot less at the time. I do get a vague impression at one point that the birds may be coming back from “celebrating the Fourth of July” in a partial or subtle anthropomorphic manner.

I have finally decoded the macaroni and spaghetti symbolism, I believe. It relates directly to the energies of the human brain (as a bowl of cooked macaroni and cheese resembles the brain to some extent). The box (in its potential but not utilized form) was trying to get me to appreciate the nature of using my brain in my state of sleep paralysis and the two birds represented my conscious and subconscious finding freedom in “walking together”.

Morning of November 7, 1976. Sunday.



Water induction autosymbolism commences. Water is dream state autosymbolism for the essence of sleep. The presence of the water in mid-afternoon is more beautiful than ever. It sparkles and radiates in the promise of healing and maximum well-being. Water is life.

I had apparently come out from the water and that which had made me. There are several times when I open my eyes and squint due to the brightness of the sun directly overhead. The backyard of my Cubitis home has changed but I do not take that much notice to this. It seems I had fallen asleep in the backyard. The orange grove is not present. There is a large lake with islands rising in the distance as I gaze northward. Everything is so bright, well-defined, and vivid.

It seems as if I am slipping back and forth between my real bed and this “bed” in semi-lucidity. In my illogical thinking, I am wondering which location is where I really am. Perhaps both are real. Perhaps both are an illusion. The backyard is no longer covered with green grass, but smooth white ovular stones of about the size of my hands. This is not uncomfortable.

Eventually, when I hold my eyes open for a longer time, the head and neck of a very small plesiosaur, about the size of a cat, emerges from the lake about three feet from its shore. It has the grace of a swan. It sways somewhat as it seems to be watching me. Soon, there are a total of six. They all swim closer toward the shore, seeming curious of my presence. I am unsure if they are baby plesiosaurs or a miniature species.

I eventually enter the cool wonderful water. I swim with these creatures in a smooth and enjoyable event. It is a wonderful and peaceful experience. It is as if I am seen as a part of their world and they are welcoming me, though I am still fully aware of my human form. Euphoria. Can you imagine anything better than swimming in cool pure water in the dream state? The brain and heart are both about 73 percent water. It is the unsullied expansion of the self to be within this depth in the dream state. We swim to the depths of the lake, but eventually this segment of my dream fades.

In an offset dream, seemingly without waking fully, I now seem incorporeal. I am aware of a very large flatbed truck carrying our house to Wisconsin over a curved fictional highway beyond where the railroad tracks are in real life, to the east. I hover and watch the event. There is a vague focus on the house falling off this large truck as it makes a turn but I subliminally choose not to will this to happen, even after my dream resets and the scene repeats. It goes around a curve near a high embankment. I feel a sense of amusement as if I can shape the outcome in any way I choose.

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Years later, there was a highway in real life in that same area (though no lake or backyard of smooth white stones was ever a feature to this day). Although there had been talk of widening the highway (which has never happened to this day), that was regarding the original Highway Seventeen beyond our front yard to the west. I found it quite odd that the highway instead was built as in my dream. I never considered that this would actually happen.

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Last reviewed on Friday, 4 May 2018.

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