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    1. The Rain

      by , 08-10-2020 at 11:38 AM
      Morning of August 10, 2020. Monday.

      Dream #: 19,593-02. Reading time: 2 min 50 sec.



      While comfortably re-entering light sleep by choice, I summon my favorite scene - a light rain in an urban neighborhood. It is in the late morning. As I float into the extraordinarily vivid setting, flying slowly about four feet above the street, I choose to remain incorporeal, without summoning and integrating imaginary physicality. Even so, imaginary kinaesthesia becomes a factor of my navigation through the fictitious environment. I indulge in the astounding detail and beauty of raindrops falling into puddles.

      Eventually, there is an incidental recall that Zsuzsanna and I had briefly discussed the Netflix series “The Rain” last night while scrolling through the content. (We had only seen the first episode weeks ago.) Two people (implied to be from the series) walk into the previously unpopulated setting, strolling off to my left, eventually no longer in view. I consider whether my dream will amalgamate the backstory of the series in implying the rain is dangerous.

      American actor Jack Albertson (June 16, 1907-November 25, 1981) is lying on his left side on the ground (concurrent with my sleeping position). He is inside a fenced area not much longer than his height, the top of his head directed to the sidewalk. The fenced area is otherwise for either recyclables or junk from the adjacent service station. I wonder if sleeping in the rain will be problematic for him during my distracted association with “The Rain.” His eyes roll up with his visage like Elise Rainier’s from “Insidious: The Last Key” Zsuzsanna and I watched last night.

      Soon, the young Elise Rainier forms from droplets of rain flowing over a tree and hovers in the air about three feet from the sidewalk (typical reinduction as the Naiad factor common since childhood) and vocalizes the melody (with only tenuto “oo” sounds) of Jim Reeve’s “The Blizzard.” (My dream self does not make the association with that song or its implications during my dream.) This factor stabilizes the original peaceful essence of the dream state.

      Even so, after about fifteen minutes, cerebral nuances begin to activate wakefulness, resulting in text of various colors appearing on the street in paint and chalk. (Despite the rain, it does not wash away.) I float over an area where the word “leveling” features in white paint. I focus more on my usual seeking of text in this mode, but nothing relevant is in my view after this. I see what I first think might be a word, but it transforms into a series (about five of them) of the letter “i.” I see the character “o” in a set of three. Probably every letter of the English alphabet, in various colors, features at varying angles to each other on the street’s surface.



      Notes on this dream’s no-brainer causality:

      The essence of water (both summoned and spontaneous) begins the majority of my dreaming experiences in this mode as virtual melatonin. The Naiad factor is the pineal gland personification but also has mystical implications with the so-called third eye (as well as the Eye of Providence).

      Note the incidental play on “Elise Rainier” as “release rain” (“produce more melatonin to sustain my dream”).

      “Leveling” is concurrent with the transition from the imaginary kinaesthesia of floating into legitimate physicality without myoclonus. (There is probably an association of the balance between serotonin and melatonin).

      Jack Albertson’s role as this dream’s sleep simulacrum ties with several threads of dream state causality. Firstly, he remains in bed in the first scenes of “Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory.”

      Secondly, that association was recalled from me posting an image of Willie Talk (a ventriloquist dummy) on Twitter yesterday, a doll being the signification of the absence of mental and physical viability while sleeping.

      Thirdly, his visage is as Elise Rainier’s in a trance (yet another play on sleeping and dreaming).

      Fourthly, the fenced area signifies both the virtual division between dream space and the threshold of wakefulness and, in this case, is also indicative of how the physical body is restricted in its movement while sleeping.



      Everything in this dream stems from the same causation factors as the tens of thousands of other dreaming experiences I have studied and resolved daily for over 50 years. Even so, the uniqueness each time is surprisingly admirable.


      Categories
      lucid
    2. Superstition is for the Birds

      by , 12-07-2017 at 02:17 PM
      Morning December 7, 2017. Thursday.



      With water induction, I find myself walking over a walkway made up of boards of various lengths. It is also implied to be a road (or low-set bridge) for cars (though only one passes from the opposite direction at times to where I move out of the way a short distance), over water (either the ocean or a large lake), though I remain unsure of the location. Walking with me to my immediate left is an unknown male in his late twenties. He reminds me of an otherwise younger John Leguizamo (though I seem to be much younger as well).

      “Be careful, it’s a pigeon,” he tells me. A mostly black pigeon walks across the walkway, perpendicular to us, and from my left to my right. John’s spoken statement causes me to become a bit more aware, but I do not understand the relevance.

      Looking at him, his face seems to remain frozen, with an annoying grin. “Is it now?” I say, but he does not respond.

      I am trying to grasp the situation when I realize that it has something to do with “not letting a pigeon cross your path”, though this is otherwise distorted from the nonsensical “black cat” superstition.

      Looking at him again, his face is in a different annoying expression, also somewhat like a grin.

      I decide to “not let the pigeon cross my path” by turning right and following the pigeon, as it had apparently stopped and is walking slowly. Still, this will lead me off the side of the walkway if I continue. Instead, I find myself walking on my bed. There is a strange falling sensation as if my body was not fully perceived. I am concerned that I fell atop Zsuzsanna, but this is only a false awakening.



      Decoding template follows:

      • Dream type and explanation: This dream uses “return flight waking symbolism”, which is created when the physicality of the conscious self identity is ambiguously perceived prior to the RAS (reticular activating system) neural gating that regulates the sleep-wake transition. Consequently, the dream self identity subliminally anticipates falling, rising, sustained flight, or other illusory movement based on the misperception of the vestibular system’s equilibrium dynamics.
      • Dream state induction type: Water (most common, at least once per sleeping period).
      • Dream state indicators: The bed (in the false awakening).
      • Liminal space symbol: The walkway over the water and the false awakening setting.
      • Preconscious factor: John Leguizamo.
      • Liminal space cessation trigger: Contemplating illusory nonsense while in the dream state itself (yet not realizing it).
      • Flight symbol to dream exit point (symbolic waking transition): The pigeon as “returning” me to my bed, symbolized in my dream by the false awakening. (Typically, the preconscious points out this dream feature as such, which here, I become annoyed at, probably out of liminal dream state awareness in not wanting to wake yet.)
      • Liminal dream control seems to be a partial element, evidenced by my “freezing” (and sustaining) of the preconscious and implementing my own focus of choice, even though it otherwise manifests my false awakening into the offset dream.
      • “And they try to pigeon hole in you in hollywouldnt but dont u let them!” - John Leguizamo.


      Updated 05-05-2018 at 10:48 AM by 1390

      Categories
      non-lucid
    3. An Art to Art Talk

      by , 08-22-2015 at 02:22 PM
      Morning of August 22, 2015. Saturday.



      Yet again, I am back in my childhood home in Cubitis. The setting, though, is more near the entrance into the kitchen, though still in the living room area. For whatever reason, there is a character present who seems to be a version of actor Anthony Hopkins, who starred in the first movie my wife Zsuzsanna and I ever saw together in a theater before we we married (“Shadowlands”, about C.S. Lewis). He remains mostly standing near the entrance to the hallway and talking to me about how good an artist I am and the aspects of what I am working on at the time. This does not trigger lucidity in any way.

      I am seated at a table, making some sort of large drawing with just a few felt pens, yet still get the impression it is related to a painting - or maybe it will become a painting eventually. I make a statement a bit later of how I wish I had more of a variety of colors to work with.

      The more the actor comments positively on my work, the more I seem to absentmindedly start adding random lines and what may eventually eliminate the original image. The image seems to be an ambiguous scene, seemingly as seen from a window, but with both winter (as there is seemingly sparse snow) and summer features. There is a bird (unknown species) near the upper middle of the image as well as trees and a sunrise or sunset. Its wings are out as if in flight, though I think it may also be on a branch at one point, as the image changes over time.

      There is an unusual nature to my work at one point. I try to focus on it and even “explain” it to the actor (and my wife who is present) before I wake. The concept makes no sense at all, though. It is something like including an additional layer over the image as someone else has also painted or drawn the same scene (elsewhere) but slightly smaller, or something like me making the picture as if someone else were drawing it as a “reflection” into my drawing. (It is hard to explain, as it does not make much clearer sense in my dream, either, though I suppose it could also be related as my image being on an easel within the actual scene but the easel being transparent and showing the scene more realistically through the outline of my less-formed artistic version.)

      Although my image was seemingly very well-done in the first part of my dream, I am adding lines (wider apart) over previous lines, removing the more defined nature of the image, supposedly superimposing the art of someone different over my own version. I am starting to think that Anthony will become annoyed with what I am doing (in “ruining” my original work), but he has not commented at this later point.

      All in all, this may simply be yet another metaphor for the waking process; that is, my dream becoming less-defined as I am waking even though my dream-self is attempting to clarify or change the dream’s energies somehow. During my work in the mid-1980s, I found that many dreams can be seen in this manner, especially flying dreams, which represent the state of dreaming itself.

      Updated 01-17-2017 at 08:12 AM by 1390

      Categories
      non-lucid
    4. Werner Klemperer and Imposing Dogs

      by , 07-15-2015 at 08:46 AM
      Morning of July 15, 2015. Wednesday.



      I am in a building in a public place with Zsuzsanna (in an unknown town and unfamiliar location), possibly a train station, sitting on what is somewhat like a long wooden chest though meant to be a bench near the center of the room. She is on my left. Along comes Werner Klemperer (March 22, 1920-December 6, 2000, as from “Hogan’s Heroes”, though in a formal suit rather than in costume), seeming cheerful and cordial as he sits down on Zsuzsanna’s left.

      I am not surprised at all for some reason. I move forward (not standing up) and with some difficulty, try to shake his right hand with my left hand, which results in a bit of difficulty. He does not seem sure how to hold his arm in this situation and for a moment, it seems as if our hands are reversed or at least turned sideways (for example, the back of my hand facing out and forward, thumb down). Even though it is quite awkward making at least three attempts at a “normal” handshake, there is no residual embarrassment. He moves out farther but does not stand either.

      Zsuzsanna and I talk to him a bit about what he thinks of the “Lost” television series (which began in 2004), which makes no logical (or interpretable) sense due to him having died before the first episode ever aired. This seems vaguely familiar in conscious afterthought as if there was a very similar scenario in a dream of a few years ago (regarding two or three large televisions being in the same setting). However, this is one of only a few dreams that ever had him as a character, the last one possibly being in 1978 (though I did not do a full scan as it takes some time) - though all other instances regard his Colonel Klink character and persona, I think.

      There is not much after this. He does not seem to be too decisive about “Lost” either way. The meeting seems vivid and otherwise realistic for what it is.

      In another highly illogical dream scene, I am trying to stop dogs from coming onto the porch in an alternate version of our last home on Barolin Street, though the windows are actually mostly closed anyway (and are sash windows rather than the jalousie windows as they were in reality). I am forcefully slapping a pillow against the closed window, to make a particular dog back away from it. There are at least three dogs though which are not that aggressive. One does grab the end of the pillowcase in his mouth for a short time, as the window then seems about one inch open. Nothing that stressful ensues and no dogs get in.
      Categories
      non-lucid
    5. Mixed-up celebrity dreams

      by , 10-20-2014 at 08:40 PM
      Morning of October 20, 2014. Monday.



      In my first dream, for some inexplicable reason, a new “MacGyver” television series is produced. Somehow, a younger Carol Burnett (around 40 or so in contrast to her present age of 81) plays MacGyver. After the first episode airs, I read a review in which it is said that she is “too polite” as the new MacGyver. The dream seems fairly long but I do not remember the overall plot of the in-dream show.

      My next dream is even more ridiculous. Dean Norris is the only recognizable celebrity in the “movie” although this time it is like a “real” setup on scene, which seems to be the porch of either the Barolin Street house or Loomis Street, or a composite of both and it seems later at night or before dawn. Even though there seems to be a (fictional, likely science-fiction) movie in progress, the people in it are somehow actually miniature, only about four inches tall. I am there watching and so is my wife. I guess we have something to do with the filming. The miniature people have to contend with “giant” cane toads, about five of them in different areas of the porch. There is a dramatic scene where Dean Norris gets hold of a (miniature) gun (taking it from someone else, I think) and shoots most of the “giant” cane toads. The camera zooms in on him when he is in a group of people standing around (in what seems somewhat like a bank queue) with some sort of suspenseful music playing.

      Near the end, only four miniature people are left. I watch them walk south over the area where railroad tracks used to be in my Cubitis backyard, there being a lot more shrubs and various larger weeds, other than the somewhat sandy “path” left over from where the tracks mainly sat. This is unusual only in that I normally become fully lucid when I see miniature people, but here, I do not. Looking down, I watch them travel from my left to my right as they waddle along. There is a vague sense of the concept of elves, but they are “ordinary” people other than having been shrunken somehow.

      In one other dream, I am trying to read the comic strips in a newspaper, but the paper is transparent so that the comic strips on the other side (of at least two pages) are blended (in reverse imagery) to the ones on the side intended for reading (similar to when you hold a page up against a brighter light) so that the page is an ambiguous composite of normal and mirror-imaged comic strips layered together.

      The dream turned out to have the usual trivial short-term precognitive layer (this time relative, as usual, to something regarding precise style, movement, etc. in terms of expectation - why it always seems so obvious and stands out as such makes me wonder what is going on with the rest of humanity in not noticing this in their own lives - particularly as such layers stand out as more defined when looking back with almost every single dream). I have always been interested in the hows and whys, ultimately, especially regarding why the events are often so trivial, although usually reflecting (in a precognitive sense) the “most unusual” aspect of waking life within a particular time. “Normal” humanity baffles me, and this (continuous trivial and impersonal precognition, yet its being so precise) is the main reason why.
    6. The Fake Apocalypse (with Josh Holloway)

      by , 08-17-2014 at 02:17 PM
      Morning of August 17, 2014. Sunday.



      I am in a seemingly unknown in-dream city that does not look like any region I have ever actually been in in my life, though it may have subtle aspects of Brisbane (Australia) and La Crosse (America). The mood is rather clear and the dream is quite long and seemingly purposeful in that tasks must be accomplished over time under my guidance and participation in a larger group. I am actually partly responsible for the survival of many people in the area. This is apparently because of the supposed apocalyptic events, including no more electricity and the infrastructure somehow vanishing or rendered no longer feasible (this being rather illogical from my perspective, as my family lived without electricity for some time when I was a young child, in the middle of a dense swamp).

      There does not seem to be any evidence of natural disaster - or disease or even conflict; just some sort of total lack of business activity and government presence, including police, and all known personages of any level of any previous authority - though their absence is not addressed or questioned. I and about five or six others are the ones to seek and bring back supplies to where the people that are still around have gathered. Curiously, Josh Holloway (the actor from “Lost” and “Intelligence”) is one of the in-dream team. (This is probably because “Intelligence” is one of the only newer television shows I have watched in recent years.) We are getting together food supplies (from various abandoned grocery stores and such) to bring back in a large semitrailer, even though there is not much fuel left (probably just enough for one longer trip back to where we had journeyed from).

      There is a longer period of time spent talking with Josh, who works under my command. He has an extraordinarily pessimistic attitude towards life in general and cannot seem to understand my positive focus on my survival skills and general ways of thinking. He does not even understand my happy outlook or the joy I have often experienced in life. Oddly, he even questions me on ideas about how to talk to people as if he had never communicated with anyone in his life before. This attitude may be partly based on our present and ongoing situation, but it seems as if that has always been his nature. We are packing cardboard boxes with mostly canned goods and boxed food items.

      For some reason, at one point, we are moving a refrigerator full of food down from what seems like an upper walkway from a dam control room (again, unsure of the region or location). There does not seem to be much logic to this act, as the pulley gets jammed for a short time and I think it would make more sense to put the food in different containers than to move the entire clumsy heavy refrigerator, but it is one of our last tasks before we return to feed the people and sustain them for a time.

      We are then ready to return to the group of people to have the food stored in their chosen locations. I am driving the semi for a time, but things start to change before I begin. I notice loud music being played from a house (in the direction behind us) that was presumed to be empty, just as we are leaving. This seems unusual in that there is not supposed to be any electricity (though it does not come to mind that it could be a battery-operated portable stereo - though it does seem a bit too loud for that possibility anyway). Mostly, other members of the team look back only briefly and we just ignore it and focus on the job of getting back to the others. We do not actually see anyone else around at first.

      Eventually though, and surprisingly, there are suddenly police all around (even though police supposedly no longer existed), and a lot of other people just appearing in the streets “out of nowhere”, some of them politicians. It turns out that this was some kind of “experiment” or government project (similar to fake prostitute setups and other fake setups created by the authorities as if there was not enough real crime to act against) to see what people would do in a survival situation (or after the disappearance of government) - and apparently it was “wrong” for us to get food and other supplies from abandoned stores to help other people survive - a few people are being marched to a prison, apparently, just for taking discarded food items from the back of a store, from a dumpster. Instead of driving a semi at this point, I then seem to be on a large adult tricycle made of cheap plastic, but still determined to get the trailer of supplies back to the people, as many of them have not eaten for a time. A siren is going the whole time from here (this was actually caused by my youngest son playing a computer game in the kitchen - though the siren sound is somewhat different in-dream).

      A police officer in some sort of odd-looking helmet and pastel fake-looking “riot gear” keeps telling me to pull over but I ignore him and much of what he is saying sounds like gibberish, so I very loudly keep saying that I do not understand him and just keep driving, or rather peddling. The other people are still with me (in the semitrailer) and it is my intent to get back to my group - because really, it still seems like a survival situation - in some ways, even more now. Even though he stands in front of the vehicle a few times, I just keep going and he eventually moves to safety each time, but continuing to shout gibberish, some of the phrases fairly long.

      There is a very clear and focused awareness that this is really the end of society (or at least the present system of authority) because of what the government has done, so thus the public will eventually act upon this fiasco. I inform a few people during our trip back that, because of this trick that the government has played, there really will be an apocalypse now within a few days, where it will be much the same as when they were pretending with their “experiment”. Realistically though, I doubt this would ever happen no matter what is done to the public by any source.


      Updated 03-09-2017 at 04:33 PM by 1390

      Categories
      non-lucid
    7. Healing DeForest Kelley’s Fictional Daughter

      by , 09-26-1996 at 03:26 PM
      Morning of September 26, 1996. Thursday.



      My dream was very vivid and colored my mood for my day in a very positive way.



      DeForest Kelley, as the actor, not his “Star Trek” character (though which does have autosymbolic implications in the final scene) has a (fictional) daughter probably in her late teens. She is apparently in some sort of televised variety show but gets hurt in a hang glider crash (while undressed) shortly after the show starts. Three Caucasian doctors (young males) come to her aid but they act strangely and rudely to everyone. It seems she may have died in the crash (though this is uncertain).

      DeForest Kelley soon appears and talks to me. I find myself in Native American traditional dress. I sing loudly, though harmoniously, and shake rattles with others, three males and one very old female. I direct a strong effort and focus on my chanting. The girl who had eventually been thought to be dead is somehow healed.

      I attain somewhat of a faux lucidity here; that is, a very strong feeling of power and control (as well as unity) though I remain non-lucid. (There is no RAS modulation in the final scene, even with the preconscious personified.)


      Updated 09-11-2019 at 07:24 PM by 1390

      Categories
      non-lucid