Blue_Opossum

Morning of June 14, 2018. Thursday.



My current conscious self identity is mostly stripped away and my dream self is cast back into the front yard of my Cubitis home (where I have not lived since 1978). However, the thread of awareness of having Zsuzsanna as my wife is present to a degree and I otherwise feel as myself in terms of age. I can assume that this is meant to be our home in this dream. Semi-darkness might indicate it is night, but the perception of time is mostly ambiguous and not clearly defined as in many other dreams.

Precursory preconscious factors kick in, this time rendered as two boys that are mischievously trespassing on our front yard. I am closer to the highway at one point. When I go closer to them, I see they are messing around with two long pipes. I am not certain where the pipes came from.

I decide to use one of the pipes as a weapon even though it is about six feet in length. I want to knock them about and make them go out from our front yard. I miss several times, but also strike them on the sides now and then. Eventually, it seems as if they were never there.

I find myself in an unfamiliar area that is implied to be our home, but the room is completely unfamiliar. It seems to be a bathroom. The solid pipe I am holding transforms into a hose and the end of it jumps onto the small metal wheel, as if due to a powerful magnetic force, of a white porcelain bathtub that is on its side. The bathtub is on its left side and facing me. The wheel the hose is stuck to is at the upper left in my view. Zsuzsanna is present. It seems a part of the wall fell off to reveal a hidden storage area, where the old bathtub is on the bottom shelf of two large shelves. The bathtub likely belonged to a previous resident. I notice patches of black dirt here and there. There are other items stored inside this section of wall (which seems to divide the room near the middle) that we had apparently not known about.

I pull on the hose several times (from the other side of the room) to get it off, but it holds firmly. Finally, I go closer and see it has fully attached in the manner of some sort of valve. I press and pull on a thin, circular piece partly inside a pipe near the wheel of the bathtub after partly pulling off part of the edge of the hose as something gives as air hisses out. I feel the rest of the end of the hose release and come off. Apparently, even though the event seemed magnetic at first, it now seems to have been the result of automatic suction, purposely developed for special parts to somehow automatically connect as such.

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Morning of August 22, 2015. Saturday.



In the first part of my dream, there is a backstory being reviewed with some clarity (though seemingly in a different level of unconsciousness than the rest of my dream). It is an event related to when someone supposedly photographed a shark in a highly unlikely area in a lake, though it is not clear that it is at a lake at first. It seems that at least some people think it was taken in the ocean. The “shark” is shown near some people including two children (male and female), some of them in the foreground and making it hard to identify the animal as a shark. It seems unusual that people would be so close to a shark for the sake of resulting in such a photograph in which it could not be fully identified anyway (as the picture does seem staged). There is only the one photograph.

Eventually, it is revealed that the fish is not a shark but a muskellunge. Somehow, this large fish ends up in our bathtub, where my family and I keep it for a time. It is seemingly at Barolin Street (where we have not lived in years), though the bathroom is a bit different. The big long fish fills much of bathtub, which remains half-full with water until the scene changes later.

Time seems to pass, perhaps a few days. I go in to look at the fish and it is no longer moving. It is much thinner than it was, possibly even dead. It looks somewhat transparent, and the bathtub is now only about a quarter full. I go and get a large bucket of fresh water and pour it in. Eventually, the fish starts moving again.

Later, when I look again, the fish has transformed into an unclothed dark-haired male (of about twenty) of an almost divine essence, though also much like a younger version of me. He gets up, though remains standing in the bathtub. He talks to Zsuzsanna and I for a short time, but I do not recall his words. I do recall asking him how he can understand the human language (and I do use “human language” instead of “English”). I ask him this very close to his ear. He seems cheerful and healthy. From here, my dream fades.

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The muskellunge is a symbol of Wisconsin, where I lived from mid-1978 to the first part of 1994 (as well as when I was very young, from 1963 until 1967). The fish is this dream’s emergent consciousness factor, additionally validated by the fact that it becomes a younger version of me. As I had sustained and vivified my dream deliberately (though subliminally) with water reinduction, this makes my emergent consciousness less like my current conscious self for a time.

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There may also be an association with “The Incredible Mr. Limpet”, a 1964 Don Knotts movie I saw several times in my youth and enjoyed very much, though that in fact involved the opposite plot; a man transforming into a fish.

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Morning of June 26, 2015. Friday.



I seem to be in the fictional tall pipe house yet again (in an unknown region - but some versions are similar to my older sister’s house on Loomis Street in America and with the fictional utility room and storage area at the southwest corner), but this time it involves an unusual bathtub that has a large grilled rectangular prism adjacent to one end that is implied to be directly above the large utility room (with the high ceiling) that is on the first floor though with a dirt floor in most versions of this setting and now apparently has at least one tall pipe leading down from the bathtub drain to the room below (though it is usually the toilet that has the long narrow vertical pipe that becomes misaligned). The focus is very vivid and “realistic” materialistically but somewhat nonsensical in terms of aesthetics and potential design. The large grill is a box-like structure (a grill-like plane on all sides) on the faucet end of the bathtub. The faucet comes out through about the central area of the side of the grill that faces the bathtub, it seems.

I find it remarkable in afterthought how such a three-dimensional fictional structure can be created so convincingly as such in a dream. In my dream, I decide to clean the grill, at least the bathtub-facing side, which is quite rusty as well as dusty (and I briefly contemplate why I had not tried to clean it previously) - in fact, the dirt and rust is nearly solid within all the grill spaces, though the faucet seems to be working fine (though the box-like structure seems like just a fancy cover for the pipes going in and out at the end of the bathtub - the bathtub being more near the central area of the bathroom in an unlikely layout). Over time, I use a whisk broom and, even though all of the spaces are cleared almost effortlessly, some of the vertical bars, being quite thin and mostly now composed of rust, break off easily at a light touch, though not that much damage occurs and all the spaces are otherwise cleared completely of rust and dirt so that it even appears somewhat shiny again. I notice how I can now see inside the structure (as well as through the spaces of the adjoining perpendicular grilled plane) and the running water is much louder as well - including a clearer metallic gurgling sound within the structure. It is loud but pleasant.

Looking down through the top (horizontal) grill of the structure, I see that the water going through the bathtub drain ends up on the dirt floor in the utility and storage area below, though it is presently a small puddle. I am not concerned about this odd plumbing setup and it does not even strike me as unusual or requiring fixing (or adjusting the tall pipe alignment).

This dream seems primarily an intriguing (though greatly exaggerated in size) distortion of my cleaning of the front room computer’s CPU fan the other day by removing the fan’s cover (where the vents were almost solid with dust clumps - causing the computer to not stay on). I did find the “realism” of my dream (in terms of solidness, movement, and effect change as well as the motions of my hands in my work) quite interesting.

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Morning of June 3, 2015. Wednesday.



In my dream, I am going into the (completely unfamiliar) bathroom. I feel very dirty and shakily moan dramatically and wearily, almost like performing a very brief guttural song (almost as a trance in soliloquy), about being in “The Zone” as if “The Zone” meant that I was like a drug-using homeless person or 1960s hippie, being completely undesirable and problematic in apparently the worst way a person can be and as dirty as a living thing can physically be, just on the edge of being disease incarnate. It is frustrating as such and I remove everything I am wearing as quickly as possible with only minor difficulties in getting my pants legs off from around my heels before I throw my pants, shirt, and socks aside with utter disgust. The bathroom is very large (about eight times the size of our real one). To my left (where I am near the toilet) is a small bathtub I think about washing down in as soon as possible. However, the bathtub is ludicrously small to where I could probably only sit in it with my knees up against my chin. Still, I look to the far right of the room (near the entrance) and “remember” that we have at least three or four spare bathtubs in a pile near the corner. However, I am annoyed at the idea of having to install a different one - and besides, they do not look all that much bigger than the other one. I certainly do not want to stay as I am but am not sure what to do yet do not feel like messing around with wrenches and pipes.

I wake up after this and immediately have a hot shower, directly followed by a cold one (I have a few showers a day year-round, “extra” ones being very short, often just to cool off in this near-unlivable climate).

Morning of December 19, 2014. Friday.



Firstly, I am in some sort of group of mostly unknown males (not relevant to real life). There are two rows of perhaps seven or eight facing each other. It seems to be on King Street, though the front (northeast) apartment is much bigger. I seem to become angry and punch most of them extremely hard. This seems to at least partly be because each and every one of them is being condescending to each and every other, sounding more and more ridiculous, like a perpetual comic strip but with no comedic elements.

After seemingly several minutes of this, I become slightly lucid (becoming more lucid over time). I have an awareness of an affirmation set and decide that instead of eliminating these people, I will heal them (including “fixing” their brain by bringing it into its most natural resonance somehow). I vaguely sense a “correct” oscillation and harmonic resonance inside their heads when I put my hand on the top of their heads and eventually place my hands on all of their heads. The effect is similar to feeling the vibrations when placing your hand on the body of an acoustic guitar when a chord is played.

I heal their wounds and cuts as well. However, because I reach an apparent overly energetic stage which is supposedly “too powerful” to use directly (with my palms, for example - where the energy seems to emanate from), I need only lightly touch them with the back of my hand to restore them to their healthiest state - otherwise my power may cause them to “disintegrate”. I do not recall this event being like this in past dreams, as I formerly used my fingers and palms.

From here, I walk out with a few (unknown) people. The porch roof is extended out more over the front yard than in reality (almost like a large lower awning) which seems frustrating relative to being able to fly out and up as soon as I want. As lucidity is dawning on me a bit stronger, I decide to fly out into the world. As I fly swiftly and efficiently, even deliberately over a longer sequence of telephone lines and power lines (which seem somewhat out of place and randomly going at an angle from the buildings and sidewalks), I notice how incredibly clear and visually defined my dream’s environment is. It is so well-rendered, I am amazed to a nearly breath-taking pleasure on the imagery alone; even more so, because it does not seem reminiscent of a real location. It seems to be near an industrial area of whatever town it is now meant to be. I notice a few buildings, a forest in the distance, and a few parked vehicles here and there, including a semi near a warehouse.



I feel fantastic as I look down and about over the scenery. At one point, I see a pile with old books and magazines, but mostly atop a taller pile of just debris, at the end of an alley, which appears to be a public dumping area. The pile is almost as high as the two-storey possibly abandoned commercial buildings on each side. I land near the top of the pile and pick up what seems to be an old “Alvin and the Chipmunks” comic book (it may be an association with an old instrumental my father wrote and performed as well as the name of where we lived at one time in Chipmunk Coulee). There are three bats on the cover (which may be related to a short-term comic strip I did as a boy about three “rock star” bats in the early 70s based on an earlier recurring dream). I tell myself that because I know I am dreaming, I may be able to actually read the entire book. However, I mostly only seem to focus on one odd phrase, which is “Poly Calep” and seeing that distracts me from my plan to read the whole comic. Perhaps this is a name of one of the characters.

From here, I am still aware of the people that had been at the meeting walking around not that far from where I am. However, I decide to enjoy more flying. I am able to again maneuver just slightly above power lines for a fair distance (which used to be problematic in dreams in my youth) without getting tangled. Oddly though, the power lines go up at an angle the farther I fly, but I still directly remain parallel to them the entire distance.

From here, I find myself back at North Monroe Street, which is usually rare to dream of. I have not been there since early 1968. I notice a few people standing around near the outer hall to the west, where my older brother Earl lived at one time. I go with my wife (who had apparently been standing in the hall) into the apartment, which seems larger and much longer to the east. Of course, I plan on having a nice romantic interlude to see what can physically occur. At this point, my dream is almost entirely under my conscious influence in every way other than the “extra people” that annoy me somewhat (which is typical of this type of lucid dream until apex lucidity is reached). We walk past three bedrooms where I can see a person’s feet sticking out from under a sheet on each bed. As we continue to walk, a male relative (Kevin M) ends up following us as well. Just as my wife and I are able to get into a bathtub (which is perpendicular to the direction we are walking), which is already full of nice cool water, he is still behind us. However, as my wife and I begin to sit down in the water (already suddenly unclothed by mental will alone), I slam the mostly opaque bathtub’s sliding door (much like the setup from King Street) so that we are then isolated from all public perspectives. (I suppose that he could have technically still opened the sliding door, but this does not really occur to me at any level of thought so does not happen.)

I am on my back and my wife sits on me in the cool water. The pleasure is quite augmented; a very clear sense of wetness and warmth (against the refreshing coolness of the water) and enhanced physical pleasure as well as spiritual unity and oneness. The only unusual distortion is that Zsuzsanna has tiny curly black hairs that create a narrower curved line going up and around her hips and back up towards her abdomen, somewhat like a doubled mirror-imaged harp design.