Blue_Opossum

Morning of July 8, 2018. Sunday.



In my dream, I am wandering around, uncertain of the nature of my current situation. The setting is an ambiguous blend of King Street (where I have not been at all since 1994), and Stadcor Street (where Zsuzsanna and our family and I have not lived in years). It is rendered in a way that is about fifty percent of each, yet I am not confused by this mix and seem to be walking to where Dennis (half-brother on my mother’s side) used to live.

I walk through a narrow alley toward an area that opens into a vacant parking lot. Three unfamiliar males approach me and I expect trouble. One male presses the small of my back, apparently with a weapon. It does not hurt, but there is a strange sustained sensation that always served before to immediately wake me since early childhood. However, I do not wake from this, though as I am not lucid, I am not aware of what it usually does to me. It happens three different times as I choose to try to walk slowly away to the entrance of another alley on the other side of the parking lot.

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Normally, this back jab event (rendered in dreams in a number of different ways) sends me nearly flying out of bed with its intensity. In this case, it is softer, but still dominates my otherwise illusory physicality. I almost suspect that it did not wake me (though of course I did wake eventually) due to getting older and I wonder if it indicates a biological change, though may possibly be a new form of non-lucid dream control. The parking lot is very common autosymbolism for a specific level of sleep, representing how the body is not typically moving (or is not supposed to be) during REM sleep. It is usually the last setting to be rendered when featured in a dream and I typify it as a liminal space representation (as a parking lot also is in waking life), though not a transitional liminal space buffer as a porch is.

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Morning of September 11, 2017. Monday.



I am walking with two unknown males, a situation of which continued from a very long previous dream sequence. I think about robbing a place, but the details are not clear yet. I eventually realize that I am carrying a Glock pistol. Soon, I “realize” that I am a black female of perhaps about twenty-five years old.

It seems late at night. I go into a small trailer park in an open field where a dense forest is to my left. An unknown black female, but of whom is apparently known to the character I presently am, complains about me being there to rob her again (though I do not recall any backstory for this). Other than that, she does not seem alarmed by my gun. She opens a couple drawers in a large chest of drawers in her trailer. There is a bundle of one-hundred-dollar bills in an even stack, partly wrapped in cellophane. There is also a roll of fifty-dollar bills held together with a rubber band. There are also numerous rolls of coins. I tell her to keep some of the money, including the roll of fifties, but she insists that I take all of it. I put everything in two bags. There are several other items besides the American money, including bottles of perfume and shampoo and small items of clothing. I leave the trailer park, walking briskly east. I see a couple others outside of their trailers on my right, one an older black male of about sixty.

Somehow, it is suddenly daylight now, possibly early afternoon. I am with two unknown Caucasian males (though one reminds me vaguely of Don K from the early 1980s). I am seemingly now a male character, though not fully myself and perhaps about twenty years old. We seem to be going west on Sill Street, having gone past Wood Street and possibly Kane Street. I decide to toss my gun on the ground near the intersection near the trunk of a tree so I am not armed if caught (thinking I would be in less trouble). Still, I consider that may not be a good idea as a child might find it. The others and I continue, but eventually turn right to go north. I continue to carry my two bags.

We seem happy until one of the males looks back and sees another male who apparently knows us. It may be that he will cause trouble or at least be annoying if he sees us and catches up with us. The male who recognizes this other male tells us all to go our separate ways. “I have to try to wake him up,” he says in an authoritative tone. He goes across the front lawns of a few houses on the right side of the street and I am still following him, unsure of the situation. He yells with frustration and waves me off, indicating to me not to follow him. The male who had been behind us is apparently sleepwalking. He has long black hair and a long black beard and has on blue jeans but no shoes, socks, or shirt. He starts cheerfully talking to the male that seems to know who he is. “I can’t understand anything you’re saying,” the sleepwalking male is told, “You’re speaking gibberish”.

I continue to go north a short distance, but then turn around to go through a very narrow residential alley back southward. I am slightly concerned that I might annoy people by going through or close to their backyards but I do not see anyone. At the end of the alley are two closed chain-link gates about chest-high, side by side. Each of the two gates is for a different house, which makes no sense, as the alley goes past all houses on the block and the gates are adjacent to the public sidewalk. Before I get to them, I have to climb quickly up over a couple large full garbage bags and some other objects. At first, I think the gates might be locked, but I am able to open them by turning a horizontal L-shaped bolt lock. The detail is very vivid and realistic in appearance (but unlike any setting I had ever seen in real life). The sense of physical momentum and touch is vivid as well.

A few police officers approach me and look in my bags and ask me where I am going. I see that there are a lot of rolls of coins in them. I insist that everything is mine, but they seem condescending. While pretending that I am totally innocent, I am eventually able to get away. One policewoman seems to think I am okay and seems to see me as being victimized by the other officers. However, a chubby male officer seems determined that I will be caught again and found to have robbed someone, or possibly a bank.

I somehow end up going through the second floor of a business building. There are a few times when I fly after getting outside again, but I end up walking again, as my two bags are heavy. I somehow end up back near Sill and Kane and recall how I had deliberately thrown my gun there (at the northeast corner) but I do not see it. It is daylight at this time.

I am now briskly walking south through the north side of La Crosse (except that it looks more like the south side) and it seems to be night once again. I somehow have my gun again without contemplating that I had gotten rid of it. I am the black female character again. I make sure my gun is holstered in the front of my pants and unseen. I am thinking of finding the Loomis Street house to hide out even though that does not make sense as I am supposedly someone else. I vaguely recall that my sister had died but that my brother-in-law may be there (though they had actually moved prior to my sister’s death, though I was living in Australia by that time). I continue to carry the two cloth bags of money and other items, one in each hand. I notice that about eight people are running towards me, though not directly towards me. I think they may have attempted to rob a closed business but none of them are carrying anything. Police cars go by but they curiously do not stop. (The scene of these looters, including their appearance, was very similar to something I did not know about until after this dream and seeing it on the news, so I am considering this part as prescient.)

I cross the street (which may be a distorted version of Loomis Street, though too commercial) to my right and turn right down a very narrow alley with tall commercial buildings on each side. The alley is not wide enough for a car to follow me through and is at least two city blocks long. However, nearing the opening ahead, I see a puff of smoke going past the edge of a building on the left side of the end of the alley at about head level. It is the chubby policeman, who is smoking a cigarette, who had vowed to catch me. I knock him in the head with my heavy bags and knock him over. The police woman, who seems to be on my side, is possibly going to help me escape now.

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The preconscious modelling itself artificially, or mimicking itself, in needing to wake another dream character (instead of me) is about as surreal and unusual as it gets (even stranger than a false awakening where I am writing down or telling someone about my previous dream). The threads of my dream self identity changing a few times (without any focus on that dynamic) is rather odd as well.

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Morning of January 17, 2017. Tuesday.



In my goal to strengthen my online journal against the fallacy of “dream interpretation”, I have, to the best of my ability, clarified this entry and recompiled the underlying meaning and root influences.

I am alone in an unfamiliar car in late morning, though which is implied to be my dream self’s car. I am parked near the center of the parking lot of Skogen’s IGA in La Crosse, logically facing south towards the store’s entrance. Although I am in America, the driver’s side is on the right. There are several other parked cars around, all with people in them. (Both the driver’s side being on the wrong side and all the cars in the parking lot illogically having people in them are dream-state indicators. Erroneous dream-state indicators of this type are so common, it seems to be a natural dividing mechanism to separate dream-state memory from real-life memory).

After a few minutes of looking around as I am seated behind the steering wheel (with no backstory as to whether there was intent to go into the store or to leave and drive elsewhere), an unknown male erratically drives a car around in the parking lot. There is machine gun fire from the car and someone (in the car) is hollering about a race. In the car are two males who are dressed as 1920s gangsters. It seems that everyone is being challenged to get away and to apparently hide somewhere. I am not sure if there is a literal finish line.

I decide to drive away as quickly as possible. I go down an alley which is seemingly the one behind the Loomis Street house. I drive into a large garage and get out of the car though sit near it in the semidarkness. It seems I may be safe here.

After a time, there is activity just outside in the alley. The gangsters are looking for the people who had driven away from the parking lot. I hear objects falling over just outside the garage but I remain still. I do not think they will find me.

Eventually, I look up and see a large circular hole in the ceiling of the garage and a giant human eye, atypically rendered in black and white, peers down through the hole. The eye and its movement has somewhat of a slight blurry effect as if a giant television was just above the hole in the ceiling, facing downwards. There are even a couple lines of “static” as the eye moves side to side as if in REM sleep, though it remains open, unblinking. I am not sure if I will be seen but I do not feel afraid. This surreal situation does not trigger any sense of it being impossible.

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Step-by-step explanation for the inexperienced:

In my dreams, sitting in a car in a parking lot (or simply being in a parking lot) is a biological indicator of being in bed and typically represents the last stage of a sleep cycle, the subliminal “waiting period” for the increase in beta neural activity (13–30 Hz). This has been validated from the study of hundreds of parallel examples since early childhood. There is no reason to assume that the parking lot is “symbolic” of anything in real life, which does not even make any sense other than perhaps to people falling prey to the Barnum effect of “dream interpretation”.

My dream self typically runs away simply out of the lack of enthusiasm over waking up (more obvious in this case as I subliminally knew what being in the parking lot meant even though my dream self did not), though which is random and completely unrelated to how I view sleep or waking in general (and after all, every day is different). My dream self typically runs away from the more dominant preconscious (until the emergent consciousness is linked and activated), which most often has absolutely nothing in common with me or of any relevance to my waking life. It is not known whether the noise outside the garage, another form of liminal space, was based on real environmental noise, but it seems likely, especially as the REM symbolism was activated right afterwards.

The very last scene, an intriguing indicator of being in REM sleep, was directly influenced by the “Don’t Open Till Doomsday” episode of “The Outer Limits” television series, which I had not seen in years and first watched as a child while I drifted in and out of sleep and lucid and semi-lucid dream states. (This was a major influence that heightened my interest in various levels of consciousness.) The episode, on one level, is a perfect metaphor for the conscious self subliminally “watching” the fictional dream self. In fact, my dream even included the black-and-white television imagery from the original show, even including the static.

Finally, there is another layer of meaning. In this case, it is almost like an analogy to my life. In order to viably clarify it, I must quote part of an original summary of the episode: “In 1929, a pair of young newlyweds receives a mysterious box-like object wrapped as a wedding gift with a cryptic label reading ‘Don’t Open Till Doomsday’. Unbeknownst to his bride, the bridegroom is zapped by a beam of light emanating from this object when he removed it from the wrapping, and seemingly disappears out of existence. In 1964, an eloping couple arrives at the house in the hopes of using it as a honeymoon spot, now a half-derelict mansion owned by Mrs. Kry, an eccentric old woman who turns out to be the aforesaid bride, driven to insanity after her husband disappeared. After the younger bride herself disappears inside the box, it is revealed that Mrs. Kry has been luring young couples to her house, in the hope of 'trading’ them for her lost bridegroom, with an alien intelligence residing inside the box.”

How does this relate to me and my life? The box represents the fictional and contained form of a dream limited by a total lack of understanding of dreams (that nearly all “interpreters” exhibit), or believing that a dream relates only to current real-life status. This is like an alternate timeline (in metaphor) of what could have happened if I (or Zsuzsanna) had believed in “interpretation” (“receiving the box”) when I was growing up. That is, I would not have ultimately learned that the “mystery girl” of my dreams, rather than being “symbolic” or of solely being another aspect of myself, was actually literally precognitive of my eventual joining with my “mystery girl” Zsuzsanna. This is pure truth.

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Curious marker: This dream was on the morning of January 17, 2017. The episode of “The Outer Limits” that influenced it was from season 1, episode 17.

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Morning of November 23, 1974. Saturday.



This was not that clear of a dream (that is, not that vivid regarding dream self awareness). I wander into an area near a small city in possibly another country (possibly in the Middle East though this is not certain) and it is very narrow even though there are many tall commercial buildings. Everything, including every building and structure, is “unrealistically” narrow, almost as if it was purposely designed to be about half the size of a typical alley width. There is at least one outdoor area that seems to be selling clothes but with the seeming essence of a magazine vendor. I see a jetliner fly overhead (from my left to my right) at one point in the final moments (with even a vague awareness of white noise), and I see several people walking around. However, just on the outskirts of the main part of town, I am somehow aware that there may not be enough space for me to even walk down the street or sidewalk. I do not really feel trapped, just puzzled and slightly annoyed.

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This short dream, though somewhat unique in my own lifelong dreaming history (though there have been other settings with limited space, sometimes relating to narrowing or truncation leading to instigation of the waking process), follows the same generic pattern in meaning as hundreds of other dreams.

Typically, coming out of an alley in a dream brings on astounding vividness. That does not happen here as I remain in the same general area for the most part.

Anything relating to the selling of clothing relates to the waking transition and "preparing” the temporary waking self (even though this form is sometimes incorporeal or hybridized into unusual forms, not necessarily even human).

The typical waking sign of the airplane flight (sometimes rendered as a flying bird or other feature including a model airplane or very distorted airplane parts) is seen here near the ending.

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