Blue_Opossum

Morning of December 10, 2015. Thursday.



The first segment of my dream is a vague grocery shopping event of a type I have had since the late 1970s, though in this case, my wife Zsuzsanna and children are known as they are now in reality. Still, the store does not seem familiar, though it is only rendered in my immediate surroundings and “foggy” beyond about eight feet in all directions. Based on the real directional orientation of our bed, it seems I am going easterly through the checkout. I do not notice any other people except for the (unfamiliar) cashier.

From here, there is some sort of abstract distortion about having action figures all over a bed (dream sign) along with random (human) clothes and accessories for the action figures as well as a few unrelated miscellaneous items. One of the action figures is Thor. Thor is slightly smaller in scale than the other action figures, just enough to notice. Other action figures are Jean Grey, Wolverine, Magneto, Iron Man, and a few others. Jean Grey is actually the largest in scale compared to the others.

There is some sort of confusion about playing a game with the action figures, which possibly relates to a board game. Thor’s clothes are missing and as such, he might as well be a Ken doll, it seems. I am also annoyed at the disorder of the various toys and game pieces and the apparent difficulty in quickly finding something. However, I eventually find Thor’s outfit (next to the other miscellaneous items and clothes, under my shirt) and am able to interact with my family in the informal game (which seems more like random playing around). I notice that Jean Grey has a large monochrome plastic basket (not that realistic in detail as it seems to resemble a My Little Pet Shop accessory) which seems to have a smaller basket extending from the side (this being oddly like a previous dream where a pot of gold icon had a smaller one right next to it - in the same orientation - on the left from my view). It is empty and may be unrelated to the game. Not much else happens. The setting is not rendered that clearly.

Morning of November 18, 2015. Wednesday.



In what starts out as a typical light sleep paralysis apex lucidity state of a perceived sensual nature, my level of lucidity becomes slightly subdued to where I am not as focused on control of any kind.

I find myself walking near either the Hinkler or Chermside Shopping Center (though it seems more like Chermside in some ways, though we have not been there in years). I end up walking on my own (after absentmindedly turning to the right) through a different narrow fenced area while Zsuzsanna is walking more towards the outer exit from the parking area and outside of the “fence maze”.

There are flowers on either side of each fence section and the fence layout is quite complex, with the sidewalk also going at different ninety degree turns over a very short distance. I get the impression that I will reach a dead end near the shopping center’s outer wall (though this is not certain as there may be a couple openings on the side to the internal parking area sidewalk perpendicular to the street sidewalk), though this does not seem that frustrating. In fact, I feel quite blissful and Zsuzsanna and I smile at each other.

My lucidity peaks again and I wake fairly quickly with a bizarre hypnic jerk where both of my legs (I am on my right side) flex up to where I am in fetal position and then they kick out to being straight again (almost like a sideways kangaroo hop). Presently, I cannot recall any other time when a hypnic jerk involved both legs or was of this movement. Zsuzsanna and I laugh then she tells me she had been dreaming about a waterfall. In the more distant past, this type of dream setting was often annoying. It occurred mostly around the middle to late 1980s, I think (though there were earlier sparse instances), and most often features the “fence maze” at ground level on either side of an overpass, often with the exit gate (to the street or intersection) locked when I get to it so that I have to go back around to try a different path.

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Note: Just as I only experience astounding continuously morphing hypnagogic vision when fully awake and just as I mostly only experience blissful (not frightening in any way as others have claimed) states of sleep paralysis (and always try to intensify the states, usually successfully), my hypnic jerks (which are claimed to occur “just as a person is beginning to fall asleep”) only occur after I have fallen asleep and am in a (often only partially-rendered) lucid dream state.

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Morning of November 17, 2015. Tuesday.



My wife Zsuzsanna and our children and I appear to be living back on Barolin Street but it has more of a rural feel. At one point, I go outside and it seems to be early evening, during sunset. Some sort of unexpected large movement takes place to my right (though in the distance) and there is mild anticipation over something unusual about to be seen. Something soon comes into view from between a couple houses on our side of the street. It looks like a detached Ferris wheel rolling slowly across the street and away from our neighborhood. I can make out its silhouette against the dark blue sky as it rolls towards the horizon.

Later, my wife and children are outside. Curiously, there is a couch on the front lawn facing the street but at an angle towards where the rolling Ferris wheel was last seen. Zsuzsanna and our two youngest sons seem curious about what I saw and are seated there in expectation. Perhaps it will happen again.

Meanwhile, I am looking through a magazine which has various articles about guitar music and rock musicians as well as at least one article about fishing (kind of a strange mix). We will be eating fish (either lutefisk or sushi, neither of which I have ever eaten in real life), which is in a cheap plastic salad container of the overpriced kind sold in grocery stores. However, I have an additional set of at least three smaller plastic salad containers, also containing some type of fish salad, that somehow came out of the magazine. I am not sure if they are fresh, as the magazine’s date is unknown, and I remain uncertain about eating anything.

There are a few photographs related to fishing. One photograph shows a man fishing from a small boat. Somehow, the fishing line from the photograph is eventually hanging out of the magazine and gets caught up in features of other photographs and even the guitar strings in a photograph of a male rock musician performing (playing electric guitar) on stage. I pull on it a bit and try to work out what other pages or photographs it is connected to. It is in somewhat of a tangle across a few pages.

Eventually, the Ferris wheel (or a different one, as it comes from the same area and I do not recall the original event showing it rolling back to where it was), comes out in the same way as before. This time though, it stops and leans in our direction - though it is about a block away and not really threatening should it fall. It somehow transforms into a giant robot and picks up a white truck, crushing it and dropping it to the ground. I am worried about flying debris (even though it is not that close to us), so I get my family to go inside the house. Otherwise, the giant robot does not leave that area. It appears to simply be junkyard activity at this point, though the walking anthropomorphic car compactor is a rather fancy feature.

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There is another dream event, somewhat distorted and viewed from space, where an asteroid comes down into the ocean, causing a huge tidal wave that goes around the planet and covers most of the land on every continent. There is seemingly at least one “reset” where I “make sure” it goes all the way around to cover the United States evenly (though I am aware I had been living in Australia, which is the first to be covered). There is no fear or even much concern, just an odd emotion I cannot quite describe, with a slight giddiness, though not unpleasant. This is probably some sort of waking metaphor event; for example, destroying or “covering up” the dream state.

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Morning of October 20, 2015. Tuesday.



I and my wife Zsuzsanna, and our children, must be living in the 1600s. I assume this because we are living in an unknown region where there are eventually a lot of dodo birds walking about. The building we live in seems vaguely like the Duffy Street apartment, though. My father (deceased February 14, 1979) is alive again and appearing as he was perhaps in the early 1960s. At one point, I have a wall-to-wall array of comic book stacks (they all look new), though each stack being only about six or seven issues high at the most. I eventually realize that this would make it difficult for my father to walk through the room (from a room on the other side of where I am), so I gather them all up into one higher pile, being only vaguely concerned about the numerical (issue number) order at this point.

The main concept is impersonal and relates to some sort of mountain-like structure, an isolated ridge which is much longer than its width, so much so, it seems there is a potential of it falling over at one point, and much of it contains small caves and a network of tunnels. It is apparently full of various kinds of fossils as well as living dinosaurs. There is a scene where a small duck-billed dinosaur (Hadrosaurid) comes out of a cave and bites lightly at my hand (though I do not feel threatened). There is another scene when I am watching the dodo birds where I also see a supposedly extinct animal that looks somewhat like a cross between a wombat and a guinea pig.



I inform a group of scientists (dressed as if in the early 1800s rather than 1600s) I seem to be informally working with that the mountain will likely fall over if they try to elevate it. Regardless, they somehow attempt to elevate the very large feature to possibly see the contents of underground caves. The whole feature somehow tips over once in midair and becomes upside-down before aligning back to ground level. At least one brontosaurus inside one of the many caves is seen falling over during this event. I also hear numerous pieces of bones and fossils falling about.



Later, I am standing with my wife Zsuzsanna in a large oblong hot air balloon, which is what they had earlier used in part to elevate the mountain. The oblong basket is large enough for a whole crowd of about twenty people, at least. We are at one end and the rest of the people, including scientists, are at the sides. It seems to be a beautiful night, and we are looking out over London as it was a few centuries ago.

Over time, looking at the beautiful nighttime sky, a few light clouds here and there, we notice unusual bright white lights streaming slowly downward in a few different locations. These turn out to be small meteors (which are unrealistic, as real meteors would move much faster). They sometimes even arc in a different direction before hitting the ground. With great visual clarity, I watch some of them hit various parts of the streets, leaving a large hole and cracking the ground a fair distance. There are also a few fiery explosions, which are very enjoyable to see. In the far distance, a much larger meteor seems to destroy an entire area when it hits. Eventually, there is a vague concern that a meteor may come to near where we are, but that does not seem very likely. It does not seem to be the “end of the world”, just the end of London in the distant past. Throughout much of this dream, I felt very cheerful and happy.

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Morning of October 12, 2015. Monday.



In my dream, I had been reading an article and make a note of the names Ken Curtis and Amanda Blake (the names of which stand out and do not become distorted as is often the case with words changing when looking back again at what you have read previously). Over time, my dream shifts into a scenario relating to filming a television show.

In the episode, apparently of “Gunsmoke”, Miss Kitty (who looks like Amanda Blake at this point) is kidnapped by horse thieves. Along the way, she keeps giving them important advice on which direction to go and when to feed the horses. She does not seem to be in any real danger. She seems very concerned that the horses are well-treated and healthy.

Later, I realize that I am Ken Curtis (though look like myself, though younger, perhaps around thirty-five) and my wife Zsuzsanna is Amanda Blake (though also looks like herself at this point). An unknown female “recognizes” us and understands that they or we are the “most famous people ever”. This is even in regards to my dream’s false back story where the two celebrities apparently were only in a few episodes of a television show rather than their actual lifelong careers. I am not exactly sure of how the nature of “our” fame came about.

Also, as Ken Curtis, I can heal people that just come into the same room. One person is grateful for how I healed their back problems.

From here, people come to see us now and then, but not much else happens. I suppose what is even more amusing is that any thought of Matt Dillon (James Arness) is completely nonexistent. I have absolutely no memory of him in my dream at any point and he never appears in any way, even though he was actually the star of “Gunsmoke”. Now this is what I call true selective memory in the dream state and wonder how it is even possible. Before I fell asleep, I was absentmindedly focused on dreams from 1966 up until now, though kind of shifting randomly all over the place.

This is also intriguing because, in both cases, no two people could be so different from us. In both cases, at least the characters they played are nearly the opposite in every way to how we are.

My sister Marilyn did meet Ken Curtis in real life years ago though, when he had his makeup on and such and gave her an autographed photograph as his Festus character.

Ken Curtis: July 2, 1916-April 28, 1991

Amanda Blake: February 20, 1929-August 16, 1989

Morning of October 7, 2015. Wednesday.



Walking in an unknown town, my wife Zsuzsanna and I go into an unfamiliar grocery store. The store’s entrance is directly adjacent to the public sidewalk and city street. Firstly, I am looking at jars of pickles that I contemplate buying for Zsuzsanna. The lid somehow comes off one jar when I tip it to try to find the label. There does not seem to be one and I get the impression it is from an individual who sells wholesale to the store. Two pickles fall to the floor. I consider buying the jar out of a vague sense of responsibility to the store owner, as no one else would buy the jar if they knew, but I instead put the pickles back and pretend that nothing happened. Instead of a shelf, the large pickle jars, about five of them, are in a wooden display as in the vegetables section. Each pickle is about as high as the jar, about five to a jar, arranged vertically.

I start pushing a shopping cart through the aisles of the store. An unknown girl who works there is standing in one aisle, the last aisle on one side of the store and the most distant from the entrance. We talk for a short time as I soon realize that instead of shelves, the sides of the aisle feature random pieces of plywood nailed up, all similar in size, some yellowish and some white, at least one piece looking like it was borrowed from a sign. Looking around, I do not see any shelves or areas with any food and become annoyed.

Zsuzsanna and I leave the store without buying anything. A few unfamiliar people, seemingly homeless, start following us. They are friendly but somewhat sickly looking. A female of perhaps fifty asks me if I can help her. I put my hand near her forehead, though not touching it, moving my hand about as if to “detect” anything that might be wrong with her.

She starts to faint, though I push her back so that she does not fall in my direction. After a short time, I tell her that she needs more Vitamin A. I tell her that she needs to start eating tomatoes to become healthier and fix whatever problems she may have. She seems very happy after I tell her this. A friendly cheerful male smiles upon hearing my suggestion and then adds to our conversation by talking about lentils, which is what he thought I had been talking about (rather than tomatoes). I am annoyed but I decide not to correct him as that might make him feel embarrassed by his inattentiveness. Zsuzsanna and I walk to a larger grocery store without them following us as I begin to wake.

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• Why jars of pickles? It seems to be phallic symbolism and a feature being in water is a real-time indicator of being asleep. I may be subliminally contemplating sexuality, which is otherwise inactive in this particular dream segment.
• Why do two pickles fall to the floor? Either superfluous redundancy or an association with two adult males living in our house; our oldest son and me.
• Where is the preconscious factor? I could not find it until I realized that looking at the jar of pickles made me think of Vlasic Pickles, and the mascot is a cartoon stork (flight symbol that “drops a baby from its beak”; subliminal anticipation of the hypnopompic mechanism)
• Why does the unfamiliar homeless female begin to faint? Because she is The Sleeper in this particular dream; a real-time indicator of being asleep.
• Why tomatoes? Tomatoes are associated with the color red and red represents waking priority. It is curious that my dream self (personified subconscious) subliminally initialized it rather than the preconscious.
• Why lentils? Lentils can look like the lens of the human eye, which is possibly a subliminal REM indicator.
• Why vitamin A? This may be a literal factor in the unfamiliar female being symbolic of Zsuzsanna, a possible precognitive thread of when Zsuzsanna is older and may need more vitamin A (though through normal food, not vitamin pills, which many consider dangerous).
• Is there any additional real influence? The unknown empty grocery store area with the plywood nailed up is based on the closure of a small local grocery store in August 2014. It had a similar unusual mood and there were areas of the store eventually blocked in a similar unlikely way while it was still open to the public. Also, Zsuzsanna remains on my left throughout this dream, the same orientation that we are in bed at the time.

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Morning of September 25, 2015. Friday.



This is dream five of six relating to clearer dreams of this date.

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An unfamiliar cat had been injured, possibly by being hit by a car, though the injuries are not extensive. I am able to heal the cat with the miraculous healing abilities of the dream state (with non-lucid dream control, my dream self not aware of it being a dream).

The cat’s presence is vivid, with clear perceptions of purring and movement, including my enhanced sense of touch when I pet it. The cat lies near the center of our bed as I move my hands about above its body and mentally affirm its health and well-being. (This bed is presumably in our present home as my dream’s setting yet is in the wrong location by association, seemingly where the narrow wall between the south side of the kitchen and the small hallway to the back door is, though my dreams have never rendered the exact same setting, of which are typically unique new composites.)

My wife Zsuzsanna brings in another unfamiliar cat. This cat seems to have died from possibly being hit by a car, as at least one back leg (possibly both) is missing and there is blood. Still, I move my hands about and above it and it apparently comes back to life. It moves slightly and purrs and meows. I can see it breathing. It does not seem fully aware, so I continue with my healing affirmations.

Soon, at least one back leg grows back, the bone expanding firstly. However, the bone continues to grow until it becomes a miniature elk horn. This is unexpected. I am concerned about how the cat will get around. Another miniature elk horn grows from where the other back leg would otherwise be. I am not sure what to do or how to continue, yet I do not want to end the animal’s life even though it is in such a strange condition at this point. I can resurrect dead animals in this dream, but in this case, the essence of other animals that have died become a part of it, as I assume that an elk had been hit and killed by the same car that had killed this cat. It may also grow wings, though still will not be able to walk or roost properly. I am unsure what to do, though I become vaguely aware that I am dreaming. It remains somewhat misshapen as my dream fades.

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Key points:

• Although some healing dreams relate to actual healing energies and a more viable focus or intent, they also sometimes result from simply achieving more awareness of the physical body in the waking transition.
• Resurrection has occurred in many past dreams since early childhood and in some cases, is based on becoming more aware of my real physical body’s breathing in contrast to my fictitious dream self’s body, therefore, in many cases, it is a simple factor of the emergent consciousness.
• Cats are associated with higher liminal space (between dreaming and waking) for a number of reasons, including the idea they “always land on their feet” (waking transition inner ear dynamics, that is, linked to the falling sensation that commonly occurs with waking and is purely biological). I associate cats with being most active at night and linked more to circadian rhythms symbolism of the dream state. They sit on a fence, the division between dreaming and waking. They are said to be “guardians” of the “underworld” (dream state analogy).
• In this case, the antlers (growing from where the cat’s legs would otherwise be) seem to be a metaphor for expanding neural energies (in real time in growing more aware in the waking transition), which are required to wake and use the physical body to walk, especially as the common preconscious embodiment is not otherwise present in this dream. This is easily proven by looking at a human anatomy chart to see the imagery is the same as from my dream. The dream state indicator of the bed (usually just the subliminal awareness of being asleep) additionally validates the overall meaning as does Zsuzsanna’s presence near the bed (as we sleep together).
• Interestingly, this dream also had the typical prescient layer (as the majority of my dreams have had since earliest memory, in fact, the main reason I developed an interest in recording them). One of our cats in real life, Franco (though which did not look like the cat in this dream) somehow injured his back leg and was not able to walk normally again, having damaged the muscles and nerves (which curiously did not seem to bother him as he got around as fast as ever, though I have never seen this happen to any other cat I have had in my lifetime.) Thus, even when a dream can be metaphorically analogous to the dream state itself and fully explained as such, some of the dynamics may still be literally precognitive, as I have found out thousands of times since early childhood.

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Morning of April 13, 2014. Sunday.



In my dream, there are birds talking outside, but it does not seem that unusual at all (as parrots and other species do “talk” after all). These are possibly some sort of large parrot. They are in the trees on the opposite side of the street from our present home. It seems very important to write down the six or seven phrases they are speaking over a longer time period, but I forget most of the phrases except for one. This last one is “sung” in a sort of monotone, which is “Get a raven”, said with each syllable emphasized equally (and note that my family and I did look after a raven for a few weeks a few years ago). I tell my wife Zsuzsanna what the birds are saying (trying to imitate the “croaky” sound somewhat), but then I realize it seems rather strange to claim that birds are speaking English and thus get pulled out of my dream, forgetting what I felt was more interesting than that last phrase.

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I am adding the “dream journal synchronicity” tag (tumblr and a couple other sites that allow longer tags as such) because of this entry posted after mine: The Amazing Talking Birds

Morning of February 5, 2014. Wednesday.



I am walking through a large vineyard with my beautiful wife Zsuzsanna in possibly mid-afternoon. I am uncertain of the location or region. A sense of love dominates the mood.

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Morning of August 24, 2013. Saturday.



One unusual and unlikely recurring setting in my dreams is a public park (often unfamiliar) that has small cemeteries (such as 4x5, 3x4, or 4x4 lots) near picnic and recreation areas, usually without fencing. Either the park is about half the size of a city block (within a slightly elevated area of four lower streets in an urban area) or a larger isolated park with the sections being sparser with a long road on one side (and sometimes an adjacent dense forest). Sometimes, the graves are very old (as far back as the 1700s).

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In this dream, I seem to have arrived by car (my brother-in-law Bob or perhaps a brother having driven me here). The park is very large, seemingly to the north of where I am. A mostly featureless area with a long road is to the south and the park is oriented east and west. The areas between the several 3x4 “mini-cemeteries” are larger than usual and there are a lot of recreational events, such as Frisbee-throwing, amateur softball, and picnicking. There is one area that is somewhat like a composite of the Onalaska Cemetery and the Bundaberg Cemetery.

I am thinking that it is getting later, near sunset, and I am wondering why so many people are still in the park and playing around, even having lunch. I start to run around and enjoy the more open spaces and I soon find myself floating and flying about.

I maintain an unusual floating position about four feet above the ground. I am facing downwards but my upper body is at a upright forty-five degree angle while my legs are somehow horizontal and my arms out behind me to the sides. I float about like this for several minutes, even going over gravesites with no fear or concern, with a sense of freedom and near-bliss. (I seem to remember seeing this flying position of a ghost in an older Harvey comic book.)

I land near a group of people but near the internal edge of an unfenced 3x4 “mini-cemetery” and the headstone of a grave. I put my right arm effortlessly down through the ground until I reach the implied coffin, expecting to find a skull. It seems like I am only a hologram and my arm is at a different location. This is a recurring concept in my dreams, where I am supposedly doing something physical in the environment yet I am projected from elsewhere, thus I cannot be hurt in such a rendering if someone wants to approach me in a violent manner.

Some people seem afraid or wary of me and my ability to push my arm into solid ground. Instead of a skull, my fingers move around in a partly gritty pile, about two feet down, of large thin seashell-like flakes which seem to be in a casket. (This possibly relates to when I used to walk through the cemetery on my way to the grocery store seeing large plastic bowl-like containers of seashells on many graves.)

Eventually, I pull a figure out of the ground. It is more like a life-sized human statue at first, the monument on the Jennie Haniver tomb that must have fallen and been partly buried, but the outer layers (or “crust”) break away from the statue’s face and it turns out to be a human female, likely Jennie Haniver herself, who had died on or around 1723, yet she is now smiling and happy (and is also my wife Zsuzsanna as there is the association that she was - in a symbolic sense - the “real” Jennie Haniver who was lost at sea at age 22, Zsuzsanna’s age when we first made contact, and we even named one of our daughters “Revinah” as a middle name, and in a few dreams the Blue Pearl is Jennie Haniver and even the movie shows bluish streaks of light as she sinks to the depths of the ocean).

One man who seems to be like a chauffeur from the 1930s starts yelling in horror. “Oh no, what is that, what is going on? Somebody please tell me what is going on!”

It turns out to be some sort of prank while filming the television show “Scare Tactics”. My wife Zsuzsanna had been wearing some sort of elaborate outfit covered with powder to look like a gravesite monument at first so that then the “statue” is implied to “come to life” to scare the target audience.

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Again, this was influenced by the Jennie Haniver plot (dream pun?) of which there have been a number of connections (regarding the 1978 movie “The Bermuda Depths”). For example, Zsuzsanna’s step father’s name is “Davy Jones” (as in “Davy Jones’ Locker” implied by the movie as to where Jennie Haniver lives). The first song I heard in public in Australia (before marrying Zsuzsanna) was sung by a chubby man who sounded like Wayne Newton. He was happily strutting along in public, his head moving about and grinning at me (even though most other people in the Brisbane Central area looked rather sad by comparison) and singing “It came from the bottom of the deep blue sea, it come from the bottom of the sea!”.

As the “statue” I pull up out of the ground turns out to be Zsuzsanna, there is similarity to my precognitive uprooted lamp dream. I have the ability in this dream to dig deeper for answers and with less resistance than other people seem to expect or accept (thus which may also symbolize precognition). On the basic level, it simply symbolizes my growing awareness of my wife Zsuzsanna waking up for the day. (This is the usual meaning of a statue coming to life in a dream. Reference: What does a statue coming to life in a dream mean? It means the conscious mind is becoming more active as a waking precursor. Most non-lucid dream symbols and metaphors, first and foremost, relate directly to sleeping, dreaming, and waking in real time.)

Morning of June 16, 2013. Sunday.



In my dream there is part of the house that reminds me of the southern end of my family home in Cubitis though it is meant to be a large wooden house in Australia. I am looking at the plumbing, as there are troubles of some sort, and the pipes are kind of strange. One section that has the most trouble and which actually cracks and falls off looks much like a car muffler but is about four times bigger. There is not much that can be done, as it is mostly ruined, and the resonance chamber of the “muffler” had not been directing the water properly and so that somehow created a problem for the rest of the plumbing. I tell my wife Zsuzsanna it is broken, so either we will move or have to somehow contact the property owner.

Inside, there is a fireplace facing out from the north to the south. In this climate (in reality), we have never needed a fireplace, as it is normally very warm; warm even during the so-called winter.

There are two very large jagged rocks in front of our fireplace. Zsuzsanna and I are not sure why and I begin to get the idea to move them to make more space. Zsuzsanna thinks that would be a good idea, as I mention we could put another cupboard there. The cupboard would be okay to be there as we had never used the fireplace anyway (though in Brisbane, in real life, the larger house we lived in had a fake stupid-looking plastic fireplace built into the wall - which was kind of annoying as it took up a lot of space that could have been used for something sensible). However, it seems ridiculous that these huge lighter gray rocks could be moved even a little, as they look extremely heavy and are about four feet long and two feet high, plus, the jagged edges (to grip or push on) would make them hard to move as well.

I look up the chimney area and notice a paper or something caught on one corner (front-west), but do not learn what it is. At any rate, I end up sliding the rocks (both at the same time somehow, even though they are mostly end to end) to the south part of the room a bit. It turns out that the rocks had been there to cover a large hole in the wooden floor, and underneath is just dusty ground and a few stones. We may put them back or use something more sensible (and flat) to cover that part of the floor.

Morning of May 2, 2013. Thursday.

My family and I as we are now are living in a composite house which seems to be a mix of my Cubitis home in Florida, my sister Marilyn’s Loomis Street house in Wisconsin, and Gellibrand and Stadcor Streets here in Australia where my wife Zsuzsanna and our children and I have lived. Our house has two storeys like the Loomis Street house. Presently, it seems to be nighttime. I become aware that an unknown man in a car had been looking up at our house towards our second floor for several minutes. He seems to be a suspicious character. However, he turns out to be a pest control professional. He tells us that our house is being eaten by some sort of worm called a “millimau”, which is possibly a distortion of “millipede” (which is what they resemble), and “maw” for mouth. The male shows me pictures of them in a book he brought.

My wife Zsuzsanna is apparently going to take care of the payment for the removal, and a large machine of some sort is left in our house. I am curious, so I push a couple buttons on this unfamiliar machine and it turns out that it is (or serves as) some sort of very large cash register that automatically adds up supposed pest control services. The very long list of costs comes out showing something like $890.00 total. There seem to be three different printers in the device that all print out duplicates copies of the bill on a long receipt, which is like a grocery store receipt. Zsuzsanna seems a little sad and expresses that she feels cheated over it all. The price of printing the three dockets is also added to the bill, including rental of the machine. We are also annoyed as It turns out that our house has no bugs or worms of any kind at all.

Later, the man comes back in with his co-workers to talk about the removal of the millimau, which now seems to be a trick to stealthily rob our house while pretending to get rid of vermin. I clearly say, “Eh, none of that here”. I throw up my right arm, and they fall back, shrink, and merge into a stack of older photographs (mostly of open city areas) sitting on a corner of a box near our kitchen, with some of the photographs flying across the room and going under furniture and appliances, such as our refrigerator, mostly upside-down. Zsuzsanna is concerned about the mess, but we can “stack” the trapped people later but maybe just toss them into our fireplace or hold them over a candle. We become romantic and I make loving comments.

Morning of December 20, 2012. Thursday.



I am with my wife Zsuzsanna at our present address, which is rendered as larger. There are railroad tracks at the side of our house where the public footpath would otherwise be. In the last scene of my dream however, the railroad tracks are no longer there.

During this time, there appear to be various rusty gears along the tracks (by passing trains that sometimes lost their parts, though no train is ever present). At one point, I consider that they may be valuable, but this is not a consistent thought. (I am not sure of how I would go about selling them.) There are also a couple street rod exhaust pipes which I do not consider are unrelated to a train and instead seem to think they are part of a locomotive.

At some points, it seems as if there may be railroad pocket watch gears mixed in with the pieces of a train. If I find all of them, I may have enough to make a watch or perhaps sell as useful parts (to the right people).

Over time, it seems that the railroad tracks had somehow disintegrated and there are patches of grass that are a lighter color and straw-like. There are also far less gears and debris. One gear looks illogically oversized.

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Years ago, my brother-in-law Bob gave me an heirloom from his family, as he did not have a son to give it to. It was a railroad pocket watch which was likely worth quite a bit as an antique (though I never had it appraised). I had left it in my King Street apartment atop a chest of drawers, and it somehow vanished even though my door had been locked and nothing else was ever taken. I never saw it again and I never informed Bob. It is possible that a previous tenant got in.

In general, this has been a common recurring dream situation since childhood, though primarily rendering Cubitis as the setting. Usually, it is related to passing trains leaving discarded books or other “treasures” (otherwise on their way to a landfill), typically headed north. In some versions, there were virtually endless sets of railroad tracks easterly of the Cubitis backyard, with the chance to explore various items scattered over the areas but usually limited to the area around my Cubitis home’s backyard and beyond to the east, and not farther to the north or south.

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Morning of December 20, 2010. Monday.



I am with my lovely wife Zsuzsanna. There is anticipation of intimacy but we are first to travel elsewhere by flight. We are in a blue biplane, though it is in a hangar and I illogically do not fully consider the need to leave the hangar before flying our airplane. (This lack of reasoning of which relates to liminal space ambiguity in REM has occurred in many other dreams.)

Zsuzsanna is wearing a beautiful cyan gown. Looking closely, I see denser bird silhouettes in the otherwise lacy sparse material in a flying form in what seems to be fairly small embroidered patterns. She is on my right (an atypical orientation, as she always sleeps on my left, though that may be because she is awake at the time).

The dials in the biplane seem to be more like clocks than altimeters or other cockpit-relevant displays. It looks like one says “12:20” (in an analogue clock display, not digital), which is today’s date (and also my birthday).

To my immediate left, some sort of vertical pipe that connects the wings seems to have a leak where some water is flowing out. I try to stop the leak with a piece of what seems to be part of a pillowcase or bed sheet.

I notice one of Zsuzsanna’s shoes off to the right on the floor.

The pipe that connects the wings of the biplane on my left side seems somewhat detached and I wobble it around a bit, somewhat puzzled. I am not sure if the airplane is ready to take off and fly even though I start to hear a humming sound, though I soon wake.

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Morning of January 7, 2003. Tuesday.



My wife Zsuzsanna and I are in an unfamiliar restaurant, seemingly in early afternoon, and near a large window (about a restaurant table away in distance, as other people are at tables closer to the window as such), from about two feet from the floor to about two feet from the ceiling, with a wide view of the ocean, rocky shore, and a red lighthouse. I eventually get the impression that we are also in a lighthouse, though that is not very logical (as only one lighthouse is needed in a region), and our view via the window is at ground level.

Over time, my father (April 26, 1901-February 14, 1979) is seen in silhouette in the distance only. (My dream self has no recollection of his death, as is often the case in my non-lucid dreams.) He looks as if he is doing something with an air hose, bending down somewhat (in profile oriented to the right) towards something on or near the ground). I am aware that he may be involved in the maintenance of these buildings.

The lighthouse turns out to be (or rather, turns into) a rocket. It lifts off slowly, without incident. The beauty of the ocean also holds my attention and I “remember” we are near Cape Kennedy, though that was its name from 1963 to 1973, and is actually now known again as Cape Canaveral.

I have some doubts though, about remaining in the restaurant. There is some movement as if of a mild “earthquake”. It seems we are lifting off, yet the view from the window remains of the rocky shore with no hint that we are rising as it seems other than a mild physical awareness of such. Perhaps we are not actually in a rocket and the vibrations are from another rocket that is not presently seen.

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Most relevant key terms:

• Water induction as dream state initiation; water symbolizing sleep and its status (most common induction form, virtually every day for over fifty years in at least one dream of a twenty-four hour period).
• Exit flight waking symbolism (similar to return flight waking system but probably not as common, though basically meaning the same thing; RAS symbolism and inner ear dynamics in the waking transition).
• My wife Zsuzsanna in romantic scenario.
• Father alive without recollection he had died.
• Vibration as symbolic of growing awareness of my real physical body upon slowly waking.
• Being at a public restaurant (mild hunger while sleeping).
• Red as waking priority (common, typically only in the last dream of a sleeping period when I have been sleeping a bit too long).
• Waking symbolism (and dream self attention) oriented to the right (most common).

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