Blue_Opossum

Morning of November 1, 2015. Sunday.



I am not sure of the setting of this dream. There is a vague association with Barolin Street, though quite distorted. There is also a park in this dream which is similar to the unfamiliar one of another recent dream (and with a similar theme of imposition by a stranger), though the setting is very distorted; not possible to discern a separation of being indoors or outdoors.

Firstly, I am ready to do some writing at a table (I mostly use a desk in reality), possibly relating to my dream journal. I go into my large room and see my second-youngest son playing with another (unfamiliar) boy. There is part of a toy racing track under my table which is of a solid two-lane form. There is an additional section near my chair. Somehow, I fall upon it as I sit down (possibly on purpose to express how it is not where it should be) and then apologize though I do not think I broke it. I get the impression that I share the room but that the race track is wrongfully in my part of the room. The clarity and sense of touch is very vivid here.

From here, our big room is “actually” part of the outside area of an unfamiliar park (still with the sense of being inside and outside at the same time). Looking behind me, I see numerous unfamiliar people walking around (implied south of me). One male is pushing a small dirt bike. Another male is carrying a very small dirt bike across his shoulders. I talk to him about the different sizes and types (though I have zero interest in dirt bike racing in real life) including the miniature ones. I notice he is “also” carrying a boy on his shoulders, which makes the scene ambiguous and distorted - or maybe he was only carrying the boy. He seems irritated by my attitude that the “room” is mine even though I am amazed by the audacity of the others.

My son becomes annoyed by the imposing public (and the feeling they are “taking over”) and I realize he will be getting rid of his (fictional) large collection of embossed spider stickers, sheets of about five by eight, each showing a different species. This also makes me consider how expensive they were. I do not really want to see them discarded.

From here, I go into a distorted pretend fight. I stab one of the imposing dirt bike racing participants in the chest, but my knife is not real and simply folds back each time like paper. I do not feel angry at that point and not even all that confused by the fake knife. After this, I notice more dream characters, some with surreal or abstract faces. I pull out a revolver and shoot one of them, soon realizing it was a blank I fired and thus the dream character remains standing; cheerful, but too distracted by his telephone conversation to notice being shot at (the sound only being about a third of the volume of a real blank being fired). More and more random characters gather and my dream fades.

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What I can add now about this is that I had learned motorcycles sometimes relate to life energy (similar to horses and “horsepower”) or in some cases, the underlying energies of the conscious mind within the dream state. Other dreams about miniature motorcycles seem to imply less conscious awareness and control in the dream state even when the dream is otherwise vivid. However, there is still my “Motorcycle Jump” dream where the motorcycle itself was my conscious self in desiring to wake (after sleeping too long) by flying up through a small window. There may be a touch of that in this dream - a need to get on a dirt bike, take control, and “return” to my physical body to wake (especially considering how ambiguous the setting was - possibly a play on the state between waking and dreaming - the “room in the house”/mind and the “real outside”/external energies in this case - together as one presence).

Night of June 13, 2013. Friday.



I am back in Cubitis where I had not lived or been for many years, although I had seen images of the place on Google Maps fairly recently, with the added highway and such. It seems to be different in the sense of being some sort of school for people who record their dreams on a regular basis, or maybe that is only one purpose of it for one class. The “students” are mostly around sixteen to eighteen, perhaps, some older. I am not sure of my own age.

I go to my locker, which is rather large and somewhat like a metal version of my wife’s real-life wardrobe and in an outside cul-de-sac area that would otherwise have been where my family’s carport originally was (again, in Cubitis) in real life. It is facing south. I open it and the top area has five smaller piles of my dream journals, each stack about three or four high, not all of the same size and with different color and different style covers, some ring-bound, some plain. On the top one in each pile, there is either a large sticker of a lobster (in lighter orange/brown) or, in a couple cases, an actual toy plastic figure. Someone else had done this to my journals, and I am aware that it is some sort of strangely intimate, even sensual act - indicating some form of “kinship” as well. The lobsters seem to be holding small flowers in bunches (red carnations) in at least a few instances.

A little later, I speak with a girl (unknown) who is also going to the “dream journal class”. I have a feeling that she may have been the one to have put at least some of the stickers on the dream journal covers (even though I first got the impression it was a male when first opening the locker, as there were also some handwritten comments on the pages, diagonally, but cannot quite remember them, but most of those seemed like female handwriting). Her boyfriend appears, and there is some sort of odd communication relating to the classes and their timing or where the girl will be at a certain time - something about her getting a ride home as well.

There are some strange made-up “forced” emotions (seemingly made up by me just to make a dramatic scene at one point to perhaps shock myself into being more aware or lucid within the dream, which does work to a point - it works much better in actual sleep paralysis stages, though) in one part relating to the school from real life and how we are “due” to get there or be there in a certain time period. We only have about ten minutes and it is about three miles away to the south - and there is no transport. It is very dark outside and I go into the front yard. I am more lucid and decide to run (to the south) a bit. I notice, as I am running, that the yard is somehow mostly smooth rock everywhere, but with smaller pebbles and grains of dirt in a very sparse pattern. I notice a larger boulder-like structure in the perfect shape of a girl that is lying sort of on her stomach, but slightly on her side and somewhat up almost on “all fours”, but not quite. This is probably related to a recent real-life image and conversation relating to conspiracy theorists seeing human-like or animal-like figures (or alien technology parts) in every rock picture from Mars or the moon. The girl seems to have, for some reason, otter-like aspects or energies. Otters are “playful” but also known for their ability to crack shells/clams and mussels with rocks, actually using a rock as a tool like an early (primitive) human.

For a moment, I have a slight concern in wondering if it is a real girl who may need help, but then the scene changes somewhat.

A younger man more to the east, closer to the house/school is talking about his concerns in getting into town soon enough for the other classes. I tell him that I can just speed or teleport there in no time (although it seems more like I am actually moving there and back, in “reverse” upon returning, very rapidly). I then focus and feel myself fade out, then fade in to where the classes are, and then back to where I was, almost as if I had not even moved much at all. However, I am left wondering what I (my body) looked like just as the process began, especially because I heard the man yell behind me (becoming a blur) “Dude…what the f…?” in seeming amazement (likely the first time I have ever heard the word “dude” in a dream). Not much more happens. There did seem to be positive emotions in the part where I saw the toy lobsters and stickers, yet with a sense of wondering about the public itself and what they were really “up to”.

The last part may actually be a play on a popular gag (from my school days) when someone claims they can do something in a very short amount of time, remain motionless, and then ask “Want to see me do it again?”

UPDATE: Validated several precognitive facets for today, but not all had been written in this entry, so I left the other details out for now that I had not mentioned at all in the entry. The main one was that I was given a bunch of very small, wrapped-up red carnations (exactly as viewed in the dream) “to take home to my wife”. It was one of the women in the IGA store that I had not seen for months. I guess they were just left over or something, but they never did that before in the time I have lived here.