Blue_Opossum

Morning of December 23, 2016. Friday.



I seem to be on Loomis Street, with my sister Marilyn still being alive though appearing as she was in the 1960s. However, her house’s layout is more like the Barolin Street house (in Australia), though the (Barolin Street) lounge room is a bedroom in my dream. In the last segment, the veranda implied to be at the front of her house is not familiar other than vaguely like the front porch of our present home.

There is a focus on beds (most obvious dream sign ever) and Marilyn is talking about a special purchase she made in buying beds at a local secondhand store. Her husband is also present but mostly remains in another room. Marilyn seems very happy and seems to think the beds are like a treasure or very valuable antiques.

I lie down to go to sleep on my “new” bed, but I am somewhat confused by its nature. It is actually only a set of elevated golden bed springs. Still, I am not nearly as uncomfortable in my dream as I would be in real life would this be the case. There is a period where I actually seem to be “asleep”, though there is still a level of awareness of my dream’s environment. I do find it somewhat odd that the beds are not complete but I consider that the rest may be delivered later.

At another point, I am looking out from the high (fictional) veranda, though it is more like an outer mezzanine combined with the porch of our present home. I also look through a west window and there is some confusion regarding the neighbors (unknown man, woman, and at least one child) looking out through their window at the same time and seeming annoyed that I am looking out the window (though I have no interest in what they might be doing). They close the curtains of their window.

There is soon an unknown male present (whom I have no association of being imposing in any way) who had found the neighbors’ act of closing their curtains as an amusing event. From the veranda, I watch a number of butterflies moving around, mostly downward. They (or at least some of them) seem oddly squarish (almost reminiscent of a postage stamp, as the wings of at least a couple of them seem perforated like a postage stamp) and almost as if they are made of orange paper. I get the impression that they may not even be alive, but there is ambiguity. Some of them must be alive or they would not be able to fly around. I watch one moving downwards, soon landing on an unrealistically located top of an implied apartment building roof (which would be an impossible perspective based on where I am) and consider that it had not been alive.

The unknown male seems to think they are all alive. I mention to him how they do not seem to be fluttering or moving their wings at all for the most part.

“They are oracular butterflies,” he says, which supposedly explains why they are not moving their wings even though some are flying back upwards at times. I do not understand the correct meaning of the word “oracular” and confuse it with it meaning something that is circular (even though the butterflies are squarish) though I also consider it might be the name of a species. I feel very peaceful and, although I find the scene puzzling, feel quite comfortable and continue to watch more and more of them move about above the street.

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• Most of the butterflies were pale orange although a few were white or cream-colored. Orange establishes medium waking priority (biologically) and is analogous to sunrise associations (the patterns of emergent daylight being linked to bands of emergent consciousness).
• Butterflies are a first-level flight symbol, which makes up at least twenty percent of all dreams I have had in the fifty years I have closely studied them. Return flight factors (including falling or rising), analogous to the consciousness shift of the waking experience, are often within or near liminal space (as here, rendered as the veranda).
• The personified preconscious most often is the most present in liminal space (as well as almost always being the last and most dominant character), which is here, the usual porch-like middle point between sleeping and waking. He tells me that the butterflies are “oracular” which is associated with dreams being potentially precognitive though was not confrontational here as is often the case.
• The butterflies being somewhat reminiscent of postage stamps relates to the communication between synthetic temporary dream self identity and emergent conscious self identity.

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Morning of September 21, 2014. Sunday.



There is supposedly a species of pink butterfly that attacks people. They are very large but not what I would call giant. They are about the size of a crow. Apparently, there are so many of them in certain regions of the world that people are no longer safe when they go outside. It seems that if they are out at night, they are attracted to light and reflective surfaces, thus windows (when the light is on in the house), storefronts, mirrors, porches, and so on. There is one point where I start to go outside during the afternoon (seemingly from the kitchen in Clayfield, though that door led into the hallway in real life) and one flies at my head in the doorway but I am not harmed. Instead, the butterfly damages itself in the attack and actually falls apart into about four pieces shortly after fluttering around outside the building.

There is a point where I am walking around with many other people. Over time, I am drinking a lot of carbonated pink lemonade (which is a product made from the mashed-up bodies of the pink butterflies), which tastes very good. It is similar to the real soda we sometimes buy but sweeter. It has a very strong taste in the dream. As I am walking around in an open field, a young male who is walking with his girlfriend asks for a taste. I give him the bottle but he immediately does not like the flavor, comparing it to some sort of Chinese beer - Tsingtao; a reference I do not understand. When I go to take another drink myself, I feel wary about drinking from the same bottle that another male just had. I worry that he might have a disease, but this idea fades after a time (especially as he seems okay and is walking around with someone else) when the scene changes.

The authorities set up some sort of trap for the butterflies that is an area between two buildings on wooden columns (similar in appearance to our present home but much larger). It is early evening but not fully dark out. People are supposed to stand around as “bait” until the large swarm of butterflies approaches close enough to be destroyed by the authorities - not sure how (fire perhaps). At the last minute, everyone is to crawl under the buildings as the authorities take action.

They soon approach and there are hundreds of them. I crawl under the building as a few people are directly attacked. It does not take that long before the task is completed.

When I crawl out, I find that I am still holding a bottle of carbonated pink lemonade (which I am drinking throughout the dream at almost every point). I notice that a television film crew is in the area and they want to film me in an unscripted commercial promoting it. I happily comply even though my clothes and hair are in disorder from being under the building in the dirt. I guess not that many people buy the product.