• Lucid Dreaming - Dream Views

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    1. Fallen Sky

      by , 09-05-2018 at 06:57 AM
      Morning of September 5, 2018. Wednesday.

      Reading time: 2 min 55 sec. Readability score: 69.

      In the first part of my dream, I non-lucidly get out of bed to go into a different room (indicating my subliminal awareness of being in the dream state). My discernment is ambiguous. I am aware of Zsuzsanna, but there also seem to be a few unknown people sleeping in the immediate area, yet I do not perceive them as intruders.

      My dream self perceives the unfamiliar setting as our present home. I am looking at a different bed in a well-lit room. Two Ragdoll cats are sleeping near its corner near where the walls meet. One is ours; the other belongs to Zsuzsanna’s sister. I think to myself that these cats are finally used to each other. The darker one gets up and moves to the opposite end of the bed.

      I notice my youngest daughter on the floor. She is only about one year old. At first, I am concerned. I go to her, but she seems okay. I notice a few unusually-colored veins on her face, mostly bluish, but she is cheerful. I ask the cats if she had fallen off the bed, actually expecting a vocal answer, but there is no reply. Still, it does not seem to be the case. (Cats are typically a “witness” to the liminality of the dream state for several reasons.)

      My dream fades, though I eventually enter another one. This time I am in Cubitis in the living room, though I do not recall that I had not lived there since 1978. It seems to be morning now.

      I go to a fictitious entrance in the middle of the east living room wall. Farther to the east, from the doorway, I see that clouds are close to the ground, creating a virtual horizon at about where the railroad tracks would have been. I consider this incredibly strange. My youngest daughter is present again, though now about three years old. I tell her, “Look, the sky has fallen.” I do not believe that the sky has “fallen.” I only say this to create a story-like interest for her. She seems cheerful and wants to see. Still, I perceive something weird is going on (the typical subliminal awareness I am dreaming, yet without triggering lucidity or even non-lucid control mode).

      I am aware of my father being in the southwest bedroom. (I do not recall that he had died when I was in my teens, long before I came to Australia or married. I have no recall of having had a mother. What my non-lucid dream self recalls and does not from dream to dream is never consistent and rarely makes any sense.) Suddenly, through the curtains, I am aware that the area where the clouds had been is now blue sky and it is suddenly much brighter, like a curtain suddenly lifting from the false horizon. However, I am aware that this means that all the clouds in the region had suddenly come together to compress and go higher in the sky to form a tornado. It will likely come straight towards our home.

      Something unusual happens, as a thread of subliminal recall of recently working on a compilation of January 1970 dreams becomes the non-lucid focus. It changes the outcome of this dream even though the autosymbolism is inherently of the same waking process, relating to vestibular system correlation.

      It causes my dream to non-lucidly transform into identical content from January 1970, with the same outcome and mood. Instead of a threat, the scenario resets to where I am looking at the “same” cluster of clouds near the ground. An angel (with large white wings) appears in the distance, hovering in the air in a standing position. She is wearing white and will probably give me a gift.

      Instead of a tornado being the more dominant precursor for VSC (its processing based on ultradian rhythm), it shifts to the less-aggressive angel and bird forms (similar to dreams as “King of the Birds” from January 1971). A dove flies quickly to me, into my hands, giving me the strong impression that the angel had transformed into it. As I look down, as it settles into the palms of my hands while facing right, it is almost like a fuzzy pastel painting of peace and beauty as I slowly wake. (This is virtually identical to the January 1970 dream at age nine.)

    2. Two Holes in Our Roof

      by , 02-19-2018 at 03:23 PM
      Morning of February 19, 2018. Monday.

      In the first part of my dream, I notice a square hole in the floor in front of our couch, near the middle, about a third of the size of the couch. I consider that our youngest daughter might fall through if she is not paying attention, although the concern does not dominate my thoughts, as I also consider she would likely be aware of it for the most part. It seems to be late afternoon. The couch is in the wrong orientation. It is perpendicular to its real location, as it is on the west side of the lounge room facing east (where it has never been in reality) instead of being at the south edge of the lounge room facing north.

      Later, Zsuzsanna and I are in a fictional room that is oriented where our oldest son’s room would be in reality, though is implied to be a mostly featureless lounge room, though there are bookshelves present. Zsuzsanna remains on my left. I focus on what looks like water dripping from a small area of the ceiling. I somehow see through the ceiling and see a large hole in the roof (as if I had x-ray vision, a fairly common dream state trait), oriented to my right. I tell Zsuzsanna of this, remembering that a new roof had just been built onto our house (in reality) and this new one has already partly “dissolved”. I also notice a smaller hole in the roof near the far corner of the room. I strongly focus on the idea of rain and water coming down, and (without viable lucidity) see water pouring through the small narrow irregular hole in the ceiling.

      After this, I expect more water to come in near where the cat is sleeping in the far corner. A smaller amount of water than in the first instance comes through the ceiling near the corner and splashes the cat, but it does not seem that annoyed and remains in its position. I have a vague concern about books getting wet, but no more water comes through and I slowly wake. (The supposed rainwater event is more like someone quickly pouring water from a bucket from the two areas above the ceiling rather than a leak caused by rain or an even amount of water over time as it does not even seem to be raining when I look through the ceiling with x-ray vision, and then through the hole in the roof each time, as the sky is blue and cloudless.)

      My dream self’s first focus is on the hole in the floor. This represents neural OR gating relating to a subliminal focus on Zsuzsanna’s unconsciousness, as it is in the same location in front of the couch where Zsuzsanna sits in reality. However, when Zsuzsanna later appears in my dream, she remains on my left when subliminal autosymbolism of our real sleeping position is present.

      Vestibular System Personification is incidentally rendered as our youngest daughter in this case. There is no modulating RAS factor or personification thereof and my dream self’s concern is illusory and ambiguous as in many past dreams of this nature.

      The holes in the roof represent neural OR gating of my conscious self identity (which has featured in many past dreams as such), to my dream self’s right as I am sleeping on my left side, my right side more exposed to my real environment. The larger hole, closest to my dream self, opens to my consciousness precursor, the other, Zsuzsanna’s. Neural OR gating means that my conscious self is manipulating my dream, with my personified subconscious (dream self) being only subliminally aware of the implications (that is, without full recall of the dream state, as the subconscious level lacks viable intelligence and temporality). To clarify, my conscious self is subliminally aware of being in the dream state, though my dream self is not (and does not even recall what a dream is), though my dream’s autosymbolism is still based on a value of “one” (OR gate). This is why there is a hole in the roof and why my dream self can see it through the ceiling (liminal space divider, that is, a neural pattern between dream self and conscious self).

      The cat is a precursory emergent consciousness factor (as a common liminal space denizen). My dream self is aware of its autosymbolism, which links a thread to my conscious self identity of which tries to reinduce and sustain the dream state by willing it to rain. (Even though in real life, rain coming into our home after the roof was torn off was obviously a negative event.)

    3. A Strange Pool Game (with a cat) somatosensory-cerebral

      by , 01-27-2018 at 07:27 AM
      Morning of January 27, 2018. Saturday.

      Dream #: 18,667-02. Reading time (optimized): 1 min.

      Zsuzsanna and Marilyn are present. (My dream self does not recall Marilyn had died.) We are in the Loomis Street house in the open area between the living room and dining room. I face west towards the dining room. I begin to play a computer game that my youngest son had been playing. It resembles a pool table, but there seems to be only one corner pocket. Several creatures of different sizes sit on it. I need to deliver the ball into the pocket before an animal gets to it, making it harder to play. There is also a gun with which I can shoot the animal.

      As I play, Marilyn informs me about going out to buy a meal, talking about a hamburger, asking if I want one. I nod lightly. Meanwhile, the game becomes real. That is, there is now a pool table in the room, replacing the computer workstation. My dream self does not register the change. I am near one corner. There is a cat atop the table, but I am aware it is a computer-generated tangible hologram. I reach over to pick up the light gray rubber ball and hold it over the pocket to drop it in. I am unsure if this is the way to play, as it seems too simple in contrast to its previous difficulty. A different cat and ball appear, and I perform the same act again. My sense of touch as I pick up, hold, and drop the rubber ball, is augmented.

      Updated 06-14-2020 at 01:23 PM by 1390

    4. Strange Feline Visitor (doorway waking symbolism)

      by , 10-15-2017 at 08:11 PM
      Morning of September 13, 2012. Thursday.

      I become lucid in a slow entry transition (the usual lucid and willfully manipulated hypnagogia after making love in real life) and our bedroom takes on different features.

      Of course, there is still the residual energy of wanting more intimacy and sustained harmony. Zsuzsanna and I eat strawberries (on a small yellow plate) at one point.

      After our romance and intimacy, I am somewhat in a non-lucid state now. I become puzzled, more over my decreasing level of awareness (but which vivifies in the last scene) than by the fact our bedroom is rendered with the wrong layout (not directly linked to the lounge room and kitchen as it is in real life). The paint on the horizontal wall boards is peeling (yet it was not before) which I vaguely recall means that my dream is beginning to ebb, yet my lucidity is no longer viable.

      I feel an urge to see if the door is open and it is. I approach the doorway. There is nothing visible beyond. I feel puzzled by an anticipatory mood emerging from within me.

      The Cat in the Hat’s hat appears in the doorway, though with no cat. It floats in the air, tips slightly forward and I feel amused, waking with cheerfulness and humor.

      This dream has the usual dynamics as have been in the same sequential components (through tens of thousands of dreams) since early childhood, though I have grown to appreciate, enjoy, and greatly respect how the nuances are always slightly different.

      Firstly, it is doorway waking symbolism, where a doorway is rendered as the dream’s implied exit point as an emergent consciousness factor (sometimes triggered by real-life environmental noise but not always, as the reticular activating system often uses the memory of a door knock or door-opening sound to activate waking, though no door knock occurs in this case).

      Secondly, the sense of puzzlement is what causes the stovepipe hat to be rendered. Although “The Skunk” is an early childhood dream from 1965, it has very similar dynamics, where the white part of the skunk formed a question mark when I entered the higher liminal space of unconsciousness while becoming closer to consciousness (and also ends with doorway waking symbolism). Stovepipe hats represent the emergent consciousness and the concept is related to “put on your thinking cap” as analogous to waking from the dream state (emergence of thinking skills which the non-lucid dream self does not possess). They have featured as such in a number of my dreams since childhood.

      Finally, the essence of a cat is linked but not fully. Depending on the dream of course, cats often serve as a liminal space symbol. This is mainly because of my childhood association of a cat sitting on a fence, a fence being the division between unconsciousness and emerging consciousness.

    5. Tools under the Door, Starting a Fire, Tiny Cat

      by , 08-07-2017 at 02:07 PM
      Morning of August 7, 2017. Monday.

      Dream #: 18,494-02. Reading time: 2 min 40 sec.

      I am sitting on the floor near the southeast corner of the living room in the Cubitis house. The layout is different. My attention is on the front door and a fictitious area north of the kitchenette.

      I am aware of my father on the carport (though I do not see him). (My dream self does not remember he died in 1979.) He does not enter the house. He slides several objects under the door (which would have been impossible in reality). I see them as well as hear their movement. There are at least three open-end wrenches, presumably different sizes from a set. There are other items, like a couple of flat pieces of metal. I think he wants me to put them in the hallway closet, as he no longer has space for them in the shed.

      I have two irregular stones that seem more like crystals at times. Although mostly opaque, they sometimes seem transparent, becoming glassy when I tap them together. Some facets are reflective and shiny. They have a bluish tint for the most part, though I notice that one looks gold at a later point.

      I think I can make a fire. I strike one stone against the other, sometimes doing this when one is on the floor, other times while holding them. They sparkle, and some areas catch fire.

      Light gray tendrils of smoke and small flames are the results at least four times. I get a folded piece of notebook paper and hold it near one stone as I hit it with the other, and they burn for a time. The paper catches fire.

      An orange tabby cat no longer than my hand rests on my right near a burnt area of the floor. It moves a short distance from the smoke and flames. The small fire is close to it but does not hurt it. Its tail traverses an area of the floor that had burnt moments before. It does not show signs of fear or injury.

      Dreams are mainly a result of co-occurrence with the status of being in the dream state, resulting from subliminal environmental monitoring, enigmatic space, and autosymbolic waking processes.

      My dream self sometimes instinctually starts a fire to activate consciousness, a goal stemming from the status of being in the dream state (and being instinctually aware of being asleep), NOT a factor from waking life. My extent of dream control has no association with being “lucid.” My brief dream self identity is not a model of waking life identity. In this case, there is no recall my father had died. There is in other dreams, a factor unrelated to the implied time or any recent thoughts I may have held in waking life. It is because, in subliminal space, my dream self does not have practical access to either my unconscious mind (or its legitimate memories) or my real identity.

      This dream also includes wall mediation (another regular event of being in the dream state, NOT a cause from waking life status). A wall (and related features like doors, windows, and fences) is a concurrent virtual division of various levels of liminal space and enigmatic space, though is more likely with an environmental factor like less intrusive noise. The tools from under the door are another association with achieving consciousness, of which the preconscious (reticular activating system) is the foremost dynamic.

      The stones become transparent when closer to initiating consciousness (starting the fire) to remind me my dream is an illusion but still controllable by instinct.

      Cats sometimes appear with wall mediation (with many specific examples of this in my dream journal), as a virtual anchor in liminal space; and in childhood, a summoned virtual witness to the dream state when lucid. In this instance, the cat is a tiny version of Tiger (a cat from my childhood when I lived on 611 North Monroe Street in 1967). One of the photographs from this time features me sitting in front of the front door, holding him.

      Updated 09-08-2019 at 09:16 AM by 1390

      Tags: cat, father, fire, tools, wrench
    6. Malice in Wanderland

      by , 06-07-2017 at 07:15 AM
      Morning of June 7. 2017. Wednesday.

      The first main scene of my dream involves going to a very large unfamiliar post office, though there is the common indoors-outdoors ambiguity. There are a number of rows of post office boxes and drawers, though no interior walls or discernible building features. It seems to be late morning. The sky is overhead; no ceiling implied for the “post office”. It is somewhat like a simple maze in the last part of this scene. I see a group of about six police officers between two rows. In another area, there is an unfamiliar male in black appearing with a gun, though he is not a direct threat to me. Still, I do not want to be near him or the people he aims at from time to time. From an unrealistic distance, I am still able to read a yellow strip of writing below one post office drawer (in about the middle of the feature) that has something to do with needing a special code as well as the key in order to open it. It seems related to a business. I have a curiosity over what might be in the drawers, though I also consider there might not be anything.

      Several unknown males join me as I move around the rows of post office boxes to be out of the viewpoint of the man with the gun. He is not after us specifically but I consider that he may not want any witnesses regarding his activity towards others. He does not fire the gun at any point.

      Eventually, I leave the area and find myself in an unknown neighborhood. A young version of Zsuzsanna is to my right (though I am seemingly much younger as well, perhaps only about twenty). It is as if we have only been together for a short time. Walking ahead of us and to our left is a thin female with short and curly gray hair. She is unfamiliar and seems at least sixty years of age. She is wearing light-colored slacks and a blouse. She is carrying a large black-and-white cat on her right shoulder (which I assume to be male).

      Suddenly, there is some sort of change where Zsuzsanna is now somehow sitting on the lady’s right shoulder and I find myself carrying the large cat near my left shoulder. The old woman somehow caused this because she wants us to have a meal with her at her house and talks to us about this. Her cat was also apparently becoming difficult for her to control, which is why I am now holding it. I am holding it up and out with both hands and it struggles a bit but does not get away.

      We reach the area where she lives. She has one neighbor (also an older lady) to our right. The chicken-wire fence is lying on the ground, rolled out to where one must walk on it to get to another gate where there is a small enclosed garden area (which is about the same size in area as our bed and probably a real-time play on “garden bed” as a dream sign). It almost seems like it rolls out automatically (somewhat like an irregular carpet) by the will of the person going to the old woman’s house. I do not really feel like walking on wire mesh, so I hover slightly above it and slowly fly mostly in a vertical position to the enclosed garden area.

      Zsuzsanna, being already behind the first gate, is partly lying on her right side on the ground near the right internal corner of the garden fence, holding herself up with her arm. There is soon distorted imagery to where a couple large blades of tall grass partly block my view of her face, but this seems like some sort of “story” related to “Alice in Wonderland”. The old woman talks about a man who tends to her garden, but this becomes like a dream within a dream. The man is also seemingly playing a televised role, dressed as a farmer or a minimal clown as a farmer, but being called a “demon” in describing what he is doing in tending her garden and also having unusual snakes on display to the public. I consider if he feels odd about being called a “demon”, as they do not exist and there is nothing threatening or negative about his persona or activities. He seems to tolerate this in playing a role in a television show. He holds up a couple different snakes that he has cared for. One has a catlike head. The other has a black head on a light brown body but the head of which is like a miniature shark. There are no negative emotions of any kind in seeing this impossible imagery.

      Dreams do not really have “interpretations” in the naïve popular usage of the term but they often do have layers of meaning, primarily based on real-time levels of consciousness which may or may not relate more directly to the present conscious self status.

      There is a preconscious precursor here. Although he has a gun, it does not create enough of a sense of danger to activate the waking mechanism, which is a major function of dreams (though not the only function as some “experts” claim). The simple maze relates to finding specific threads of my conscious self identity for my temporary fictional dream self to find its way to the waking threshold. The post office probably has two underlying meanings, real-time communication between different levels of the self while not fully awake, and possible links to the collective unconscious (or even collective conscious). It may also relate to precognitive threads with someone the dreamer is not yet in communication with (and may not be for years), something I validated from childhood dreams relating to my “mystery girl” (Zsuzsanna).

      The dark cat represents a real-time factor of being asleep (and often represents an aspect of liminal space), as cats are known for sleeping a lot (as well as being active at night when people sleep).

      The personified preconscious takes on the form of an older woman carrying her cat. Her giving it to me relates to activating my emergent consciousness precursor. “Beyond the fence” is a metaphor for a shift in consciousness while in the dream state. The first fence is on its side because, in reality, I am lying down (sleeping) instead of being awake and standing up (thus it is a second-level dream sign). I often hover or fly very well and effortlessly in the final stage of a dream and without giving it much thought (which relates to lessening the hypnopompic jerk and waking more softly as it is premonitory of the biological falling sensation). My emergent consciousness (as a projection as the gardener with the snakes in some sort of skewed television role) is illogically called a “demon”, but in a very matter-of-fact sense, with no associations with negativity of any kind. This probably relates to my status of being in a world full of superstitious people who have little or no understanding of the dream state. The imagery, though slightly grotesque (primarily the snake with a black miniature shark head, which is a “less water” factor of which has continuously occurred in my dreams on a day to day basis for over fifty years and is both biological and symbolic on a number of levels) has no effect on my perception or emotions, just as with hypnagogia visuals (though this becomes more of a hypnopompic state). I wake very slowly and softly, with no physical hypnopompic effects.
    7. Large Cat Swimming in Fish Pond

      by , 01-10-2017 at 07:10 AM
      Morning of January 10, 2017. Tuesday.

      After exploring an unknown but interesting region in an unfamiliar rural area, I eventually start thinking about fishing. It seems to be late afternoon. I find an area where several others are fishing, mostly males in their thirties. There is a building on one longer side of a pond with a pathway just wide enough to walk on. The rectangular pond is about three-fourths a city block in length though only about half that length at the ends.

      When I decide to fish, I see that there are too many bobbers on the water’s surface near the side I first go to. As I walk along the pond’s length near the building, I see bobber after bobber on the surface (as well as the trailing fishing line) and a number of fishing poles along the bank that extend over the entire length of the pond on that side, the setups of which apparently belong to the group of three men who are sitting at the end of the pond. This annoys me but I do not become very angry.

      I walk back to where the other three males are (even though it would have made more sense to keep going around the corner to the other longer side of the pond to search for a space to fish). After a short time, that longer side of the pond I had just walked back along seems clear (though there is neither a memory nor enough time implied to have passed for the men to have actually reeled it all in or to have gathered up their equipment). There are only a couple areas where bobbers and line are still visible on that side. For a short time, I walk in midair above the water (not on the water as in certain past dreams) to get past a corner. I do this without thinking it to be unusual.

      I sit down to fish. I have a soft plastic jig body (shad-style soft plastic lure) and slide it onto a hook. An unknown male to my right tells me that I am not doing it by the proper standards. I take it off and slowly put it back onto the hook and he seems satisfied. “You know the fish in here aren’t that big?” he asks me. I nod, regardless of not knowing anything about the area. Still, when I look into the water, I can clearly see under the surface. There are several very large walleye and carp. I intend on catching a walleye.

      After I cast my line, I see that I am almost immediately snagged on something. It looks like a large Ragdoll cat swimming under the water. I try to get the hook disentangled from its fur, which is along the side of its body near the middle. An unfamiliar boy of about ten wades out and is eventually able to take the hook out. I am not sure if the cat belongs to him or if he is there to perform a service (as an actual parks and recreation employee). The cat remains swimming in the water. I notice the boy seems to be dressed as a boy scout or parks employee, so may actually work here.

      I ask the male who is still to my right about the “other area to fish” with the pretense of me being familiar with the area. I hint at it being a place beginning with “m” and pretending not to remember the full name. He asks me if I mean K-Mart, and I tentatively nod. I then ask him if it is legal to fish there presently. It seems it is.

      • Fishing, a common dream event for me since early childhood, represents the subliminal desire of the limited dream self to bring the emergent consciousness to the surface in order to wake or at least increase awareness. Water symbolizes sleep and a fish on the line is the downgraded conscious self identity developing coherence (often increasing in size and strength) when being caught.
      • This is more specifically confirmed as a self-initiated waking precursor due to the behavior of the personified preconscious. Typically, the preconscious is only hostile when the personified subconscious (dream self) does not want to wake or (metaphorically) initiate waking. As fishing is an act of deliberately seeking the emergent consciousness, the preconscious is passive here. He even helps me continue my task without aggressiveness or treating me strangely.
      • This is more specifically confirmed as a self-initiated waking precursor due to the behavior of the personified preconscious. Typically, the preconscious is only hostile when the personified subconscious (dream self) does not want to wake or (metaphorically) initiate waking. As fishing is an act of deliberately seeking the emergent consciousness, the preconscious is passive here. He even helps me continue my task without aggressiveness or treating me strangely.
      • The personified preconscious rarely appears in fishing dreams (again, due to what fishing metaphorically represents in real time). He only appears here due to the delay in the waking transition, which was caused by my own hesitancy and non-lucid dream control in creating the additional bobbers and too many random additional "lines of communication".
      • The cat in the water is a factor of the circadian rhythms of nighttime (and the dream state during a particular sleep cycle) and has also appeared as the final waking prompt in past dreams though is underwater here based on the time of my dream (after sunrise). Catching the cat would be akin to enhancing the essence of night (or night-based thoughts), in contrast to the “correct” waking goal.
      • The reference to K-Mart is a mixed waking prompt and dream sign, since I associate K-Mart with clothes and getting up and getting dressed.

      Updated 09-08-2019 at 08:22 PM by 1390

      Tags: cat, fishing
    8. Catlike Shadow Creature and Shopping

      by , 09-10-2016 at 03:10 PM
      Morning of September 10, 2016. Saturday.

      My wife Zsuzsanna and our children and I are living back at Stadcor Street in Brisbane. It seems to be early afternoon and we have to go shopping for groceries. I am going out the back way, through our kitchen, but the layout is a bit different. The small square area that one needs to go through to get to the back porch is much bigger and there are additional doors, one directly into our backyard and another one onto our back porch.

      I notice what I first think is our pet black cat in the small room with me but it has no eye, nose, or mouth detail. It is like a three-dimensional shadow and I sense puzzlement radiating from it. I am slightly wary (but not fearful in any way) as the creature jumps up and somehow goes through the area between the central top part of the door and the door frame (and would have to be as thin as a sheet of paper to do this). This would be the door that goes to our back porch (liminal space).

      I go to the lounge room to talk to Zsuzsanna about this strange event and she calls the animal something I do not seem to be able to hear properly. After I ask her to repeat it a few times, it still sounds something like “wolf-roosh”. My hearing ability seems to become too distorted each time to hear the final part of the term. What I grasp from the term seems odd to me as it was seemingly a cat shadow, without any wolf associations at all.

      After we do our shopping, the unfamiliar balding male cashier (of about forty years of age) cannot seem to get the cash register to work properly. Apparently he has to press his thumb on a pad to acknowledge he has the authority to use the cash register, but it is not recognizing him. I am thinking that maybe his thumb needs to have a small amount of yellow ink on it to get it to work. I am getting annoyed and I am not sure how we will complete the transaction if the cash register will not work.

      The checkout area of a store is a waking transition metaphor symbolizing leaving the dream state. In this case, the lack of “yellow thumb” is associated with not being fully conscious. The cash register symbolizes the potential increments of critical thinking during the waking transition as conscious self identity emerges.

      The threshold event (here an atypical precursor rather than my dream’s final scene) concerning the door, featured a cat shadow in liminal space as the emergent consciousness factor. Curiously, this was borrowed from the ending of “The Flintstones” (which I had seen so many times as a child). Even the essence of the movement (comparative to the sabre-toothed tiger jumping up in the cartoon) was the same. I found that fascinating, especially as the ending theme’s line “…cat will stay out for the night” could be interpreted as remaining unconscious (asleep) throughout the sleep cycle.

    9. Making a Griffin?

      by , 10-07-2015 at 04:07 PM
      Morning of October 7, 2015. Wednesday.

      I am in the living room in Cubitis, seated at a large wooden table in the southwest corner. My computer is set up in a similar way as with my desk in real life. My wife Zsuzsanna and our children also live here (though in real life, they have never been to America), thus my dream self is at least partly aware of my current conscious self identity. It seems to be morning.

      Our pet chicken (fictional, though my father raised chickens in Cubitis until we moved in 1978) is sitting on the table to the left of my computer keyboard. It seems to be an Araucana or Ameraucana hen. My sense of touch is enhanced. I vividly feel weight and motion as I try to make sure that the hen does not hurt herself by quickly jumping or flapping her wings.

      Our black-and-white cat (Franco) eventually emerges from the hallway. He jumps up on the table and bites into the back of the hen. This alarms me because I know he will probably kill it. I try to push him back and I whack my hand over the animals, but our chicken is taken to the floor by our cat.

      I get the odd impression that I may have accidentally detached either the hen’s head or the cat’s in an attempt to separate them, or possibly both are severely injured. I am not sure what to do, as our two pets may both be lost. I get the impression that a griffin will be the result of this situation though possibly weak until fed, as it is lying on its side, looking a bit fatigued.

      What does it mean to dream of a griffin? At the core level, a griffin is a flight symbol. A flight symbol is rendered in a dream in subliminal anticipation of the hypnopompic waking start. Additionally, a griffin is a mix of unrelated animals, which is likely to be a unique precursor factor of the coalescence of the preconscious and emergent consciousness.

      Some of my other dreams that feature griffins (links): (1) Griffin vs. Grandfather Clock, (2) R Brand, (3) Malfunctioning Griffin Game, (4) The Temple and the Tomb

      Tags: cat, chicken, griffin
    10. While Healing a Cat, it Grows Antlers (prescient content)

      by , 09-25-2015 at 03:25 PM
      Morning of September 25, 2015. Friday.

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

      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.

      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.

      Updated 09-09-2019 at 10:12 AM by 1390

    11. Glow Cat Glow

      by , 07-22-2015 at 01:22 PM
      Morning of July 22, 2015. Wednesday.

      This title is not that relevant - as the cat itself does not glow, but for some reason it just came into my head as the title (and who am I to “argue” with self-titling excursions into the surreal).

      Yet again my dream alters the features and layouts of real locations. This time our bed that is in real life in what would otherwise be the dining room (head to the west) is now in the front computer room, which is adjacent to our older children’s rooms; the head to the east (though feasible, not that likely to be as such - especially as our oldest son’s room has a window in his wall into the room). At the same time, the computer desk is near the window (where the bed was).

      I “realize” that I am at 611 North Monroe Street (in America), which I rarely dream about anymore, especially considering I have not lived there since early 1968 (before moving to Cubitis off Highway Seventeen). My cat Tiger (long gone in reality), an orange tabby, is walking about. I “realize” that I am about seven years old but am concerned that Tiger has stepped in paint and is tracking it around the room. He is hesitant and shaking each leg in rotation, just as in reality when a cat steps in questionable liquid. However, the footprints are like a light and almost like a “hole” as well, somehow.

      I “remember” after the tracks are giving off an annoying amount of light, that I can “turn off the footprints” (that is, anything glowing in the room) with a special light switch. I move my hand around to feel for it but cannot find it. I vaguely also recall (real memory) that there is a stack of about six or seven comic books on the left side of the toilet tank in the bathroom and am wondering if they will be knocked into the toilet as a result of the cat’s actions. I am trying to remember if this already happened at a previous time and if as such they had been there for several days thus far (which makes no sense of course).

      The cat walks up the wall, leaving an even pattern of footprints (which start to look more like upright five-pointed stars than cat paw prints), almost to the ceiling. “Come down from there,” I command. The animal comes down and starts purring very loudly on my chest but seems eventually to be my own breathing (and likely Zsuzsanna’s as well).

      My thinking falls into the slightly abstract. I realize that a “star pentagon” is not a pentagon at all but a decagon (as it has ten sides and angles, not five sides and angles). I feel a strange uneasiness over humanity being “wrong” yet again, then realize everything in the world is misnamed and misunderstood anyway, so it does not matter that much.

      I approach three (unknown) girls in somewhat plain dresses (sitting on the floor in the form of a triangle for the most part) who seem to be speaking Portuguese and involved in an occult ritual. There is unexplainable luminosity in the setting. Looking more closely, I see they are actually playing Jacks. However, looking again, I see the game box looks suspiciously like some sort of ritualistic system with the box shaped like a hexagon. I then confirm this by the fact that, even though they are playing Jacks, it is on a hexagram painted carefully on the floor. Then I get annoyed once again as I realize that the “hexagram” is actually a type of dodecagon, as it has twelve angles and twelve sides, not six angles and six sides.

      “No one knows what anything is,” I say calmly. One of the girls (to the left and closest to where I am standing) turns and looks at me curiously though smiles in understanding and seeming familiarity (with a vague thought she is my wife when much younger). She says, “A minha estrela guia” (“my guiding star”) and I am not sure if she means me or the game piece (Jack) she is holding. Then I realize she may not have said “A minha estrela guia” but “I’m in Australia”, which sounds the same (and it slowly dawns on me that this is yet another “missed clue” or “confirmation”, of millions, about finding Yin incarnate, yet I recall I already have).

      I feel slightly nervous and enter a more luminous state of “quivering” (where the foreground and background quickly shift inversely to each other) and see a large electric fan (all white, including the blades) where the rotary keeps changing in diameter, smaller and larger, but somewhat randomly. The fan blades sometimes curve out as if in attempt to touch or at least reach me (with a perceived sense of care and compassion, not as a threat). The imagery shifts in unusual ways. Every now and then, a small narrow crocodile head emerges (again, with no sense of threat, and the mouth remains closed) horizontally and evenly from the center and is seemingly pulled back in. Other things the spinning fan blades become is a cycad palm, a sunflower, and some sort of floral kaleidoscopic design. I watch it for quite some time (with a vaguely perceived buzzing) and eventually shift into a dream where Steve J (an old classmate) and I are walking just below rafters on roof support beams and ceiling joists in a large building. The rafter patterns become more and more complex. This last part, Zsuzsanna says she also dreamt of - though she was the one walking mainly on the hanging beams (without any actual reason or prior cause to dream as such, though this shared dreaming happens fairly often). (However, I did have a lot of similar dreams when about thirteen.)

      Updated 09-27-2015 at 05:08 PM by 1390

      non-lucid , memorable
    12. Screwdriver Fight

      by , 07-12-2015 at 09:15 AM
      Morning of July 12, 2015. Sunday.

      The first part of my dream is taking place in an unfamiliar home, where there is a large covered-sidewalk-like area and portico in the back of our house that extends along all the outer walls that face the backyard. An older white-bearded male in shorts, who seems like a neighbor in real life (though he is only at his apartment one or two days out of a month or more) is standing there near our house on the covered sidewalk and talking very loudly and continuously on his cellphone (as he often does in real life for an hour or more at a time, never pausing for even a short time, though while on his back porch across the alley from our place). I am not sure if he is talking to anyone or just talking to himself, using the telephone as a prop. Another male is there who seems to know him. I ask him about why he is doing this as the other male does not seem to think he is doing anything wrong. My wife and I, though, mostly are in the front yard the whole time. My perception is somewhat distorted as if I am fully aware of the imagery and sound on the other side of our house the whole time (even though I had not actually been in that area in-dream). I loudly say “How would he like it if I sat right near his window talking loudly for a long time?” In my dream, our (fictional) houses seem to be on the same street, side by side (his on my left when facing our house), rather than having facing backyards divided by an alley and our high fence as in reality. Also, the fictional covered sidewalk area seems almost as big as our house (though that is not really possible; just some sort of typical in-dream perceptual distortion or faulty reasoning, since I am mostly focused on our neighbor’s trespassing and imposition).

      No drama ensues, as my dream shifts to something different where my wife is talking about a Ragdoll cat I see in our backyard, which is one my wife had when I first met her. My wife says that the cat has diabetes and because of that, it is somewhat dehydrated as well as apparently bloated on one side near its back (which does not make much sense). It is uncertain how long the cat will live. I watch it closely, pondering its seemingly unavoidable fate. There is a swimming pool with an open cylindrical drain large enough for a cat to swim down through and that is what it does. The mostly white cat jumps into the deep, clear water, moving very smoothly, much as with the motions of a human swimmer, even doing a “realistic” butterfly stroke for a time. I can see its front legs move forward and around, even noticing the flexing of its feet and toes that remind me much of a person’s hands and fingers. I contemplate the beauty of the intelligence of this cat, that is now apparently ready to leave the world in this manner, by swimming as much as possible within the water, enjoying its aquatic journey to peace as if it knows it is too ill to continue on land. I watch it swim directly down into the drain, perfectly and smoothly. However, even though there is not enough room to turn around within the pipe, the cat somehow emerges in the other direction (coming out headfirst) in a short time and seems healed. It no longer appears to have any health issues.

      There is another shift and we seem to be living in a larger version of Cubitis, where an unknown younger male drives into our front yard while we are outside. I expect trouble. It seems nighttime as it is dark out, though it does not really “feel” like it is later at night. He pushes my wife but I get his attention by holding out a screwdriver as a weapon in my right hand. He pulls out from inside his shirt or jacket somehow, what I first think to be a knife but is actually another screwdriver the same as mine. For only a moment, it seems as if he has two left forearms (with two left hands) in close proximity (each from the same elbow area), each with a screwdriver (but my dream quickly “corrects itself” and the imagery is then normal with only one left hand holding one screwdriver). I end up quickly jabbing him twice in the chest, once near the middle, once slightly to the right, but then he mostly lies on the ground giggling even though he is badly, perhaps fatally, wounded. Soon, he seems to be gone from the setting somehow as well as the car (some sort of dream “reset”, or a typical way dreams sometimes sublimate or “erase” their own unfolding implications or short-term history). I talk to my wife who seems to be okay.
    13. Clown Buttons and Immortal Piece of a Cat

      by , 06-06-2015 at 12:43 PM
      Morning of June 6, 2015. Saturday.

      Sometimes dreams are so surreal and unrelated to life and every facet of a person’s personality and thoughts and interests, it is a task to make any grounded reasonable associations. This is a good example. Nightmares are very rare for me and always seem linked to sleep apnea or my lifelong cardiac arrhythmia (which my father also had) though only problematic for a period in the 1980s, but this one comes close with the strange mood (though I still would not call it a true nightmare, as there was no residual negative emotion carried from it).

      My recent vampire witch dream had a typical carryover (though it was atypically divided by more than one day) - being embarrassed about wearing clothes in public.

      I am seated in a dark movie theater (while the unknown movie is showing) and realize that I am wearing clothes and thus become embarrassed since I “know” that you should not wear clothes in a movie theater, especially this particular one which is also a library. Even more frustrating, I seem to be wearing a clown outfit (with no back story on how this occurred) or at least a white shirt with dark pink pompom (or pompon) clown suit buttons that are about the size of a small fist.

      I stealthily leave the movie theater with one hand each on the top two buttons to hide them. I get the impression that someone is laughing at my clothed body. However, I manage to suddenly find myself (as if by teleportation) in a different scene in a library checkout area - which is also somehow the same theater’s lobby - where my shirt seems to be normal though I still seem to be holding pompoms in my closed fists. However, they are moving. I place them on the counter and they are each a small cuttlefish, which writhe around (as if disoriented) a bit and then decide to mate. This in turn is my payment for an overdue fee regarding books I did not even check out, but I do not question it. (I think cuttlefish are metaphorical for human hands as with spiders, because both instantly make me visually associate human hands - in fact, my “Things From Outer Space” childhood dream seemed to feature more of a giant cuttlefish-like creature than an alien spider - though actually recognized in-dream as a “giant” hand with theatrical enhancements - this being the first time I have clearly made that connection even though other creatures, such as the octopus-man, were also ocean-related).

      In another scene, I become aware of an annoying (stray?) cat, possibly a darker tortoiseshell. I am not sure who it belongs to. I eventually see that it is only a piece of a cat; the head and front part of the body (with two legs), yet almost flattened into a two-dimensional form (though still with perceivable volume). It cannot possibly be alive, but it somehow is. When I pick it up to check on its status, it makes strange meowing sounds and I consider that it may be just a residual muscle reflex and that the animal is not aware of anything. However, there is slight movement as it meows, but I decide it will probably not live very long so I put it in a cardboard box and into a commercial dumpster in an alley in a business district. I do not have the will or interest to “put it out of its misery”.

      After this, I have a very uneasy awareness that the cat will exist like this forever (long after I am gone) and I feel a bit guilty over its immortality as such, as it goes (without any of its own intent) to places unknown (perhaps trapped beneath layers of debris and not able to do anything or to be a “proper” cat and enjoy its cathood). It is a haunted feeling, although the creature cannot move much or walk (and thus cannot threaten me). It is almost like being aware of a human mind being “trapped” in a particular time period or culture (or religion) for endless years.
    14. Not Exactly a Catfish

      by , 01-21-1997 at 07:21 AM
      Morning of January 21, 1997. Tuesday.

      My dream’s setting is a new and unique composite of La Crosse and Cubitis (which are over 1,500 miles apart in reality).

      My dream’s induction is the typical nonthreatening flood, a dream feature that has occurred in at least one dream virtually every night since earliest memory, so it is obviously an autosymbolic induction factor that is usually unrelated to waking life, especially as water autosymbolism correlates with the dynamics of sleep and the sleep cycle.

      Curiously, our front yard does not seem flooded at one point but our carport does (as a distortion of a Cubitis feature). I am fishing in it (which of course is a ridiculous concept, as the front yard and carport would otherwise be at the same level in real life, but water replacing ground or floor at the same level, yet implying depth, is a common dream distortion, another factor of water as autosymbolism for the sleeping and dreaming process by the transformation of ground into the essence of fluid).

      At one point, it seems I have caught a large striped bass, which is a kind of silver fish I used to catch in America (often using orange florescent fishing spoons as a lure).

      The “fish” gets heavier over time (as is often the case in my fishing dreams when I hook something). However, it eventually turns out to be a large white cat, though of which does not appear to be injured from my “catching” it with my fishing equipment. It comes near me and purrs and my focus shifts as I move more toward waking.

      Fishing is a type of autosymbolic preconscious mediation when my dream self seeks to find the conscious self identity to initiate the waking process. In this case, it is paired with another form of preconscious mediation, which is the carport - in representing the liminal space buffer as a factor of the waking process. A cat has often served as a preconscious avatar (and “witness” to the dream state), though in this case becomes the emergent consciousness factor.

      Updated 11-19-2019 at 10:05 AM by 1390

      Tags: carport, cat, fishing
    15. The Three Lives of my Dream Girl

      by , 10-13-1979 at 04:13 PM
      Morning of October 13, 1969. Monday.

      This is titled “The Three Lives of my Dream Girl” not because the precognitive rendering of my wife Zsuzsanna has three lives in it but because it was directly influenced by “The Three Lives of Thomasina”.

      I find myself in what seems like an indoor intersection where four staircases go upwards from each direction (yet seems bilocated within the Cubitis living room yet has the typical feeling of being inside and outside at the same time). I follow a black cat that seems a bit familiar (though actually is not in reality as we had a white cat called Snowball). I do not reach the top of the stairs but I do reach an isolated mezzanine that I am aware of by looking over the top step from about the sixth step down. My mystery girl is sleeping on her back. There is a pale orange glow.

      I am wary about bothering her so I turn and crawl across some sort of monkey-bars-like structure. I find “my” staircase and begin to look for my bed to make sure I am in it. Looking back, I see a two-dimensional giant orange tabby cat head just beginning to peak over the implied skirting of the odd adjacent mezzanine (from wherever I now am) and behind the head of the mystery girl’s bed, the floor of the mezzanine (or loft) which now seems hexagonal. I get a vague impression of the oversized black cat statues being alive (though they never actually move) and I hear a vague buzzing sound, like crickets but lower in pitch.

      • I have come to realize that an intersection may be some sort of real-time artifact indicating shared dreaming.
      • A staircase is a real-time symbol of the dream’s status and relates to a potential shift in consciousness, including waking.
      • Zsuzsanna was a cat breeder who went to cat shows when we first wrote, making this dream precognitive in an additional secondary way.
      • A statue coming to life (which does not fully unfold here) is a waking metaphor (waking precursor) that symbolizes the conscious mind becoming more active.
      • A black cat is a circadian rhythms factor (cats being typically perceived as nocturnal) and signifies threads of dawning consciousness in liminal space. In my case, the recurring black cat, or in some cases “shadow cat” or humanlike panther, is a variation of the preconscious personification, though ironically is typically more helpful than when in human form.
      • This is a common daybreak dream (which are about as common as return flight dreams - which represent about twenty percent of all dreams), validated by the presence of the color orange (moderate waking priority) and the giant cat head (almost like a flat stage prop) coming up over the head of the bed as being analogous to sunrise and the emerging conscious self.

      Updated 04-24-2017 at 06:52 AM by 1390

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