Blue_Opossum

Morning of April 18, 2020. Saturday.

Dream #: 19,479-03. Reading time (optimized): 2 min 15 sec.



My imagined dream self becomes instinctually aware of my dream beginning, including a viable thread of waking-life identity. As a result, the first rendering is a female form close to my left, modeling the sleeping orientation of Zsuzsanna and me, though she remains standing while I remain seated in a cross-legged position. She is a short distance closer to the wayside of an unknown road than I am. It seems to be nighttime. On the other side of the road, off to the right, is an unfamiliar business building. Feelings of cheerfulness and peace remain throughout my dream. (The eventual sleep-wake personification, firstly as an association with imaginary proprioception, is not intrusive other than wanting me to move from the side of the road to return to slow-wave sleep).

Instinctual dynamics of dream state management begin. On my lap is an open sheet music book, though the sheet music displayed is unknown. Upon that is a tablet with another one atop it. The first features equidistant thumbnails from a web site, mostly of random people, and the second displays a blank screen. Atop the tablets is an open A4 spiral notebook with my handwriting describing dream content as well as equations.

The inference is that I am solving equations using the sheet music book (mainly the arrangement of notes) and the web page thumbnails, which supposedly link to the content of previous dreams and six-digit numbers that serve as markers. The first calculation produces an image of the ocean on the previously blank screen, though it is a small strip, oriented lengthways near the top of the screen.

The second calculation results in an additional lengthways photograph of the ocean, and I am fascinated when it matches perfectly with the first when adjacent to the right side of the previous image. Although the image never moves, there is still the fundamental liminal impression that it defines my status of being asleep and the absence of physical demarcation. I start to consider what will happen when the strips fill the entire top of the screen. They will probably continue to a new row. This identification and anticipation results in the summoning of imaginary proprioception and latent physical preparedness (which usually begins around this part of a dream’s timeline, though here, there is no anticipation of vestibular system ambiguity from the lack of discernment of physicality while sleeping).

The sleep-wake personification initiates from my right. An unknown man drives a Ford Model T Convertible into the area on the other side of the road. (Cars, as with all vehicles, typically correlate with the imaginary physicality of the dream state or preparation for wakefulness with emerging physical awareness and mobility potential.) He cheerfully calls out, implying I am blocking his way even though I am not on the road. (This scenario is also co-occurrent with how I am sleeping close to Zsuzsanna, as the other man is a preconscious personification of my potential consciousness and emerging physical awareness. This same causal factor has occurred in many previous dreams.)

I move back a short distance, but the man parks his car near the business building and walks over to my side of the road. He looks at the items in my lap and seems curious about what I am doing.

I absentmindedly state, “I’m doing sequences of fractals.”

“I can’t even do one,” he says happily, emphasizing “one.”

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Morning of May 28, 2018. Monday.



I am in a setting that seems partly modeled after the Cubitis living room (last seen in real life in 1978). There is a computer set up in the southwest corner. It seems to be late morning. I am looking at pages in a newspaper. There is a short article (on the upper right of a page) of about three paragraphs written by someone with my surname. Their first name is Aueda (which is unfamiliar, though which is actually a distortion of my last name, with an extra “A” and no “L”, though my dream self does not realize this). I notice the name Tecumseh written a few times throughout the article. The person lives in New York. I tell Zsuzsanna that I am surprised Aueda is still alive, though this is by way of false memory, as I have no relative by this name as far as I know. In fact, I am uncertain of whether the person is male or female. Zsuzsanna seems to know it is a female even though she had not known of her previously.

“I did not know they were still alive,” I say, followed by, “They were born in the 1800s”. (This turns out to actually be 1907, but only assuming my dream self is aware it is 2018, though that is unlikely, as my non-lucid dream self typically has no idea what year it is or any viable temporality.) I use the computer for an Internet search. It turns out there is a very large and detailed photograph of her at her rural home in New York. I read that she is 111 years old. In the photograph, presumably recent, she is standing and facing the foreground. I report her age several times to a few different people who show up. I am amazed by her age. The photograph seems like it might be of Grace McDaniels (the “Mule-Faced Woman”), though my dream self does not consider this. Additionally, the surreal nature of her face is far more extreme than Grace’s. She appears to have a large pointed chin covered with small bumps as well as an additional section below her mouth of a different rough texture. She also seems to have large elk antlers growing from her head. (This was likely influenced by a strange movie called “Marker” that Zsuzsanna and I saw the other night, though also seems influenced by the character of Hela from “Thor: Ragnarok”, which we also saw recently, though again, the horns were like elk antlers.)

I look to the left and see a man, who I first think is her husband, lying on a couch inside their house. (This is illogical, as the main image of Aueda was taken outside, but the photograph implies the walls closest the camera are not present in the image, but are in “reality”.) Looking around, I see more detail, including a barn and a woodpile to the right.

An unknown male is suddenly standing behind me on my left asking me if he can use my computer to look up a different name, which is Helen Crowley. I do not feel comfortable with him using my computer, as the keyboard is difficult to use. (It is smaller than a real one, but my dream self does not consider this.) I consider that some of the keys can easily fall out or get jammed. I try to tell him about the difficulty of use (though I also tell him how I am familiar with how it us used as such) and that I do not want him using it, but he gets annoyed and walks away for a short time. Finally, I let him use it, though after typing in the name myself, while I get up and walk away from the area. (Helen is Zsuzsanna’s mother’s name as on at least one official document, though she uses Helene but pronounces it as Helena. Additionally, Crowley was a “King of Hell” character from “Supernatural”, so my dream is illogically mixing a lot of random details together, which is what dreams often do.) Before I get up, I notice all the people in the photograph are now walking toward a storm cellar while looking back at the viewer now and then (Aueda being the last one in the line). The image is now actually moving like a film.

Looking at the floor a little later, I see otherwise clear water with pink areas, much of it flowing out from under a table, and I wonder if someone had been ill, possibly bleeding, or had just spilled something. Marilyn (older deceased half-sister on my mother’s side) is present, though seems as she was in the 1960s. She says she had contacted someone about fixing the leak. She is standing against a table with her arms folded, firstly facing me, though I walk about looking at the pink water. As I look at her in profile as she faces left, I notice how her body and posture is impossibly distorted but I do not catch on that I am dreaming.

I go into other rooms (which are unfamiliar). I see and clearly hear water flowing everywhere, most of it clear and no longer with pink areas. I see a large laundry basket full of clothes somehow filling up with water nearly to the top (which is impossible as it would just flow out through the large square holes in reality). I also see that the otherwise shallow flooding is going into a room where I supposedly have a number of my books and journals. I walk back where Marilyn is and loudly say, “Everything I have is being destroyed. Why didn’t you tell me about this earlier?” Soon however, I realize I am dreaming and that I was liminally trying to return to deeper sleep (as water is my most common autosymbolism of dream state induction and reinduction, partly based, biologically, on the first months of life spent in the waters of the womb - in fact, I had been reading a comic book yesterday where a woman is pregnant and her waters break). I feel relief in waking up (though in reality, we did have a flood and rain inside the house when the roof was torn off last November and a lot of books were ruined, though not any of our journals).

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Morning of January 24, 2018. Wednesday.



I find myself in an extremely vivid lucid dream. I am in a large unfamiliar enclosed porch, mostly empty other than a big table I am sitting at, where my computer is. My computer keyboard has several inches of space in front of it (whereas in real life, my computer keyboard’s closest side to me is right at the edge of my desk). I am aware of Zsuzsanna in a room to my right, though I do not see her. I see the doorway, but I mostly sit in semidarkness. (Of course, a porch is autosymbolism for liminal space, my most common setting of this nature since childhood, occurring in at least one dream per several days for over fifty years.)

I marvel at the level of realistic detail. I think about typing on my computer’s keyboard, but unusual features come into play. Firstly, I have an association with the Caps Lock to my left. After a short time, there are two small padlocks, more like holographic images, appearing on the two lowest left keys. They are on their sides with the shackles facing me. I find this curious and puzzling.

Although doorway waking symbolism is implied as a precursor, and being to my right (typical waking symbolism orientation), I start to focus on my left side. I eventually see my detached fingers moving over the keyboard, though more as a semitransparent hologram of which is additionally implied to be some sort of optical illusion. I am in awe over this imagery. My detached glowing ghostly fingers float closer to my “real” (dream self’s) hand (where I also see that I have normal fingers, so the detached ones are indeed implied to be some sort of optical illusion). I try to make the connection to real life, failing to understand this type of imagery is only possible in the dream state.

I slowly begin to become more baffled by the vividness of my dream. It seems to surpass many previous levels of lucidity (though not with certain dreams, such as the quetzal and rooster one from March 1986, which had several astounding prescient threads in one dream). More so, I actually start to focus on the orientation of my real physical body and can even seem to “feel” (or sense) the real left side of my face. However, instead of the occasional absentminded folly of wondering if my physical body is somehow walking around in traffic as I am in my dream, I vividly remain aware of the left side of my face being on my pillow. I become focused on trying to make sure my dream self remains in a “safe” position, with a slight concern about the pillow cover being closer to my mouth. However, there is no actual feature or direct tactile impression or more vivid tangibility as such, as it seems to be on a different inexplicable level of awareness. This has no effect on the level of vividness. It is odd (and eventually distracting) trying to associate the essence of my dream self’s left side of my face (which I can feel and am fully aware of) with my real physical body’s left side of my face. I am so amazed by my situation, I do not think of inducing a new scenario or going through the doorway, which in some cases intensifies my level of lucidity rather than causing me to wake (though apex lucidity is typically only triggered if there is an actual door to open). I am also puzzled by why I am not hearing the hammering next door (as they are putting a new roof on that house, which was damaged when our roof was torn off and part of it went through theirs). However, when I wake, they had been taking a break. (They started about six in the morning.)

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Morning of August 20, 2017. Sunday.



In my dream, there is an unfamiliar library I go to, which takes the place of where the King Cinema had been in real life. I am also living at the King Street mansion (boarding house) not as I was years ago in reality, but with my family as we appear now.

My dream starts with me leaving the apartment. I walk westerly down King Street. The library is only a few blocks away. I am carrying, in a backpack, a computer keyboard, a flat monitor, and two small unknown devices (each about the size of an iPhone but thicker and one with a curved bottom) related to computer technology which apparently store data and may be additionally used for other purposes.

In the library, I delete a list of URLs, one at a time, from one device for the purpose of clearing memory. I sit at a small table near the left end of one row of shelves. I do not question why the computer keyboard and monitor are all I have (with the two other small devices) to apparently do some work on my computer.

Water begins to drip from various areas of the library’s ceiling. I become annoyed, because one of the devices I am looking at goes blank and the screen is apparently ruined by water. An unfamiliar young female librarian assures me that it will work normally again when it dries. She pushes against me a bit from behind and I am slightly annoyed by this, as it makes it more difficult to type freely.

It starts to rain more and more inside the library. I tell them that buildings in Australia sure leak a lot, adding how where my family lives now has leaks, a few near the foot of our bed. I compare them to the houses I lived in in America. This is very flawed dream-self memory as usual, as the setting is implied to be in America. Somehow, even though I perceive that I “still” live in America on King Street, I am also seemingly aware of where we live now (in referring to the leaks in our present home). There is no way to consciously resolve this distortion, as, when I leave the library near the end of my dream, I am walking easterly back towards the King Street mansion (in America) in the rain, yet with the feeling I am in Australia. There is no aspect of bilocation of the two buildings, so it is just some sort of oddly skewed parallel thinking that only the dream self can maintain.

I decide to move to another location and sit down on the floor in an informal meditation position. It is closer to one corner near the main entrance. There is a male to my right who reminds me of classmate Bill W. All three of my devices with screens eventually become ruined. Bill talks to me a bit about some sort of research. Several other people are around, a few even reading books in the indoor rain.

I rub the surface of one of the devices. The screen is more like transparent glass by this point. Inside the device, which seems somewhat hollow, I see pieces of leaves and a few small stones and sand that I consider somehow got inside over the past few minutes. I am annoyed that I will apparently have to buy new computer devices.

I realize that, even though I am wearing a long-sleeved sweater (which goes down a bit below my waist), I do not have any pants on. I also have no shoes and am only wearing dark socks. The fact I do not have shoes annoys me more than not having any pants on, since I do not like the idea of walking on a cold wet granular sidewalk with only socks on. I ask Bill if I had come into the library with shoes on, though he seems not to know, and I am uncertain if I did.

Eventually, I leave the library to go home. I am firstly walking, then I start running in an exaggerated manner. My “running” becomes stranger, similar to the movement of The Spirit in the 2008 movie when he runs on the telephone wires. (We saw this movie just prior to my dream.) It feels like I am kicking sand out from the back of my feet as I am oddly moving along. Eventually, I reach the King Street boarding house, and there are some more dream elements, though which become abstract.

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Raining indoors is a sort of forced symbolism based on the dream state itself, biologically related to a process that occurs during sleep (which I have described more fully in other entries). The library represents potential for conscious self awareness (and critical thinking skills), but the circadian rhythms factor holds my dream in the deeper phase. Being undressed in public, which is a subliminal dream-state indicator (as I do not wear clothes when sleeping) has rarely bothered me. (In fact, I am more embarrassed in some dreams when wearing clothes, as in real life, I do not like to be seen as wearing clothes in bed.) It is no coincidence that I am often undressed in public in a library, as these are two common dream-state indicators (dream signs) for me, especially as in sensual lucid dreams, when I deliberately initiate this situation. (This is additionally validated by the library being where the movie theater was in real life, a movie theater otherwise symbolizing subliminal acknowledgement of the dream state.) The association with “The Spirit” movie, where he runs on telephone wires, even though I am on the sidewalk in my dream, is based on increasing neural energy and communication between different layers of consciousness during the waking transition.

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Early evening of August 19, 2017. Saturday.



I am in an unknown residence but my dream self does not perceive it as unknown. My mother (July 14, 1916-October 2, 2002) is present and appearing as she was in the early 1970s. It seems I am only a boy, perhaps around thirteen. Still, I am working with a computer (and of course I had no home computer at that age in the 1970s).

A relative (Valerie) comes up near the left of the table as I am typing and says something I do not fully hear. She goes very close to the left side of the computer monitor. After a short time, I see that the headphone jack has pulled out and I have a false memory that it was a very sensitive (easily wrecked) setup. I tell her to go away as I then try to fix it. She yells at her father (David) that every time she listens to him, she gets into trouble. Apparently, she had been relaying something he had said. (The presence of these two characters is illogical, implying a completely different time period than the other characters).

I become very frustrated as I am trying to work out how to get the jack and socket to work again. The original headphone jack is of the small size, with an adapter of a large jack size fitting over it before going into the socket on the left side of the computer monitor. (This is an unfamliar setup never used in reality.) A few times I think I have it as it should be to work, but pieces come apart and the wires do not touch. There is one point where the smaller jack is just a singular loose tiny cylinder. I notice a number of jacks and socket rings on the table. The ones I need to more conveniently push it all together do not seem to be present.

I become so annoyed I say that I am about to throw the computer away and give up on everything (and not work with computers again). My mother looks on.

Soon, I feel vivid touches on my left shoulder and top of my head, as if someone is trying to comfort me as I sit near the table. I look up and see a large chubby and unrealistically bizarre female face grinning at me. I recognize her as a former classmate (Laurie P) who I never talked to much, though she has darker hair in my dream.

“Oh no, get away from me you horrid ugly…” I say clearly. I am not sure if I have even offended her. She slowly leaves the table without seeming upset. I consider that many other schoolmates may no longer be friendly towards me if they hear of my behavior, but I am not that concerned about it. (There is a vague thought of being unfriended by some of them on Facebook, but this makes no sense in light of the time period I perceive myself in.)

I eventually seem to have most of the small parts together, but it may not work. Still, I put the jack back into the replaced socket. Bare wires are still everywhere. As I sit down, I sense movement to my left. I end up punching someone in the left cheek with my right fist. The sense of touch and momentum is very realistic. It turns out to be a young version of Sam M, another schoolmate. I immediately apologize, saying that I thought he was David (another schoolmate, not the David mentioned earlier). I mention how I thought he might have been drinking and Sam says that David is sitting in another area of the large room and had in fact been drinking.

Sam seems to be doing something with my left arm, apparently some sort of medical attention, though I do not recall hurting it. (He seems an odd composite of child and man.) I tell Sam that I hope my punch does not leave a mark. That part of his face is only slightly red. Meanwhile, I notice that my computer monitor’s speakers are hissing but additionally, the normal audio seems to be coming out of both the headphones (on the table) and the computer speakers. (This is due to subliminal awareness of real sound, as our television is on in the next room.)

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Attempting to fix the jack and socket relate to subliminally trying to achieve consciousness by increasing neural activity while in the dream state. Sam’s attention to my left arm relates to the fact that it had a slight ache from having slept on it up to this point (which I am not aware of while still in my dream).

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It is the purpose of the preconscious to wake the dreamer or at least bring attention to the nature of the dream state in real time. Sometimes the preconscious is rendered as a snake to more quickly wake the dreamer with more emotion (such as when my arm has gone numb or is getting pins and needles, though was also a cobra biting my thumb in a dream when I was having pain in my thumb from surgery). There may be other factors, as the preconscious is not always personified as in this dream (Sam). The fact that I am in a dream in early evening likely explains why the preconscious is not as dominant in this case, as I had not entered a longer sleep cycle. (The first appearance as Laurie did not create enough emotion to rise from the dream state. Even my punching Sam in the face only initiated the augmentation of physical awareness to a greater extent and with additional perception of momentum, but it began the needed transition as he doctored my arm.)

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Morning of November 12, 2016. Saturday.



I find myself in what seems to be our old apartment on Gellibrand Street in Clayfield, yet which also has the feeling of the northeast bedroom of the Loomis Street house (yet another new composite I have never experienced before). The Loomis Street living room is mixed into the Gellibrand Street hall. However, even though it looks more like the Gellibrand Street apartment I feel younger and as if it is mainly the small Loomis Street bedroom.

At one point, I hear an unknown male talking outside my door. Eventually, it seems he is mocking me, yet somehow without being directly sarcastic in his vocal tone. I am annoyed and go out to the front yard but do not yet see him. I notice that instead of the front steps there is a round boulder to have to walk up onto, which is difficult. The unknown male is now standing at the open hall entrance. He reminds me vaguely of Don K (who I had not seen since around 1982) and seems about twenty-five years old. He makes a couple comments about my difficulty in walking up and over the bolder and I feel a bit annoyed as my legs do not seem to work correctly.

He mocks me with a few more comments, a couple relating to phrases my mother used to use (such as “my old bones” and “this nutty old world”). I agree with a couple comments he makes relating to my apparently lame legs.

Still, I become more annoyed by his presence. He makes comments about details in my dream journals that I had written way back when I was only eight or nine years old (the original phrasing and writing style). I am surprised he knows all this. I get the impression he had somehow been reading my dream journals way back to 1966. I wonder if he stole any of them or any of the pages.

Eventually, I punch him out. He ends up lying on his side in an unknown area, as the setting now transforms into an unfamiliar location. When he moves, I decide to chop him up so that he cannot be an annoyance anymore. Another male appears (likely the emergent consciousness personification as it seems more passive and “closer” than a personified basic conscious self identity) and we seem to be working in a mission together. There is an advanced computer that speaks as I am trying to work out where to send the body parts.

I give the computer vocal instructions and it answers me in a loud clear voice. I give it various longitude and latitude directions though at first, what I say is distorted and meaningless. The computer keeps correcting what I say so I can repeat certain details.

“Thirty-six degrees latitude north,” I eventually say. “One hundred fifteen degrees latitude west…”

“You mean longitude,” says the computer loudly. I agree with all the corrections the computer makes, but I have no idea where I am sending the body parts as it feels I am just saying random values. I get the impression that a team will come in, take them away, and place them wherever.

“The Deuce-Berry Hoover Dam,” announces the computer. I am somewhat surprised and am not certain it is a good idea to put the remains there (as I consider the remains sitting atop the wall near a spillway, right out in the open), but I do not say anything. The other male looks on passively as I visualize the espionage team getting ready.

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A dam is a potential waking prompt as water symbolizes sleep and a dam stops water from flowing; deuce is sometimes a term for the preconscious (secondary to a more defined emergent consciousness in the final scene of a dream), berry being a play on “bury” and “Hoover” also being associated with vacuum cleaners (both a mortality symbol and dreaming conduit and waking transition symbol that has been recurring more over the last ten years); the talking computer is the personified whole conscious self (not that common a feature as here) due to only the whole conscious self having viable thinking skills.

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Morning of August 21, 2015. Friday.



I was trying to feasibly do two things at once last night; that is, doing a bit of extra research and writing and doing dream-making preparation exercises (involving image projection and affirmations) during the same time period, which of course, lacks the fluidity of natural dream construction and does not result in extended apex lucidity. Granted, it creates lucidity and in-dream full awareness on one level, but via an unusual perspective and while lacking the otherwise automatic settings and scenes. This particular type of dream is very different than other types, where the dream-making self and the sleeping conscious self are not fully linked as in apex lucidity, yet still as if awake at some levels (and seems to be one of the only types where critical thinking skills are vaguely present at times). Of all the different levels of consciousness, this is probably one of the most annoying. Although surreal events can and do happen, there is no telekinetic ability or abilities involving reshaping of energies.

Before going into a fully rendered in-body dream, my focus was a bit unusual. I was in an atypical form of very light sleep paralysis, the type where you can hear audio pulses and see half-rendered dream settings (and even feel light phantom touches), but rather sparse in attention. A young girl’s voice says “hear me…hear me…heal me…” very clearly (actual sound rather than just the felt waveform), which seems almost like “real” contact of some kind. This brings me awake and I ask Zsuzsanna if it was her and she says no, she had not been sending, intentionally or not (and even so, there is often a minor blue flame event when that happens).

Eventually, in-dream, I am back at my computer and I know I am dreaming, yet for some reason, I am strictly limited to my physical form in the chair. Of course, being in my dream, the computer is not behaving as it should. I am trying to get to a particular tab in Firefox, but the mouse is not responding very well.

So what I do, is peal the tab I am trying to get to off of the actual glass of the monitor. Eventually, I notice about four layers, each related to a particular tab in the browser. The computer monitor starts to separate into several layers of very thin and pliable glass (though more reminiscent of plastic in pliability), and it looks like I may have damaged something. I try to push the thin layers of screen back together and my fingers go a few inches into the screen as the thin sheets of glass are a bit out of alignment.

From here, a small white furball with an emoticon-like face, about the size of a white Furby, but with no ears, falls off my desk. It seems somehow alive, as it does hop around a few times, though a bit chaotically. I try to get it to act aggressively or to make a hostile face, but there is no response. It grins at one point and I try to get it to sprout fangs, but nothing happens. This annoys me. Intense emotion is having no effect on my intent to alter dream nuances. I cannot even create a proper “monster”, not even a little one.

I get up and go outside where there are three tyrannosauruses sleeping in our backyard on their stomachs (the biggest facing north and along the east fence opposite the public footpath, the other two facing east and west). It seems just prior to sunrise, but there is enough light to see their overall shape and certain other details. Maybe I can get a dinosaur to chase me. That might be fun. I did it often enough when much younger. I try to mentally will the dinosaurs awake, but that does not work. I kick them. Nothing happens. I jump around and kick them several times (even in the eyes) but they do not stir. Finally, I use my last scrap of mental energy and wake one up. It rises up on two legs but soon is “pulled” back into its sleeping form - like an accelerated series of movie frames, with the residual impression that the sleeping form had not moved and its waking form was only a fleeting ghost image, being pulled back into itself by sparse wispy tendrils.

Instead of relaxing and staying in my dream or trying to step into a preset scenario, I deliberately “walk out of it” through the fence and make a rude gesture to the three sleeping giants behind me.

Morning of July 29, 2015. Wednesday.



My dream before this, as is sometimes the case, is just a bit too surreal to even begin to describe correctly, though I would not say abstract. It involved something about another planet (or perhaps alternate universe) with at least three larger unusual lifeforms, one like some sort of composite of snake, slug, and something else. I and about three others are exploring the area and a couple different creatures approach us (I assume by either scent detection or movement) but there is no direct threat. We actually seem to be some sort of creatures in a couple scenes. It is hard to relate. The region is not that defined and seems somewhat like a miniature mountain and cliff area. One of us as a creature first seems terrified (of the snake-slug-whatever) but others of us (as creatures) are able to communicate with the other creature and it goes on its way.

At any rate, I shift into a more “normal” dream and am in a room that (yet again) seems loosely modeled after features from the house in Cubitis (where I have not lived since late June of 1978). This time the carport area is apparently inside the house though the window (of the internal wall) of my oldest son’s room makes it seem like our present home on W Street. (Otherwise his room would be modeled after my room as a teenager).

For seemingly the “entire night” I am playing around with some sort of unusual compact disc. It has a pattern on its surface much like the image in this entry on the playing side (rather than more uniform bands of color). For some reason, I “recognize” it as a chaordic disc that can be “played” by randomly moving the mouse so that the laser goes all over the surface through random data rather than just reading it normally.

Doing this (and I have no clue why) results as one continuous combined event in various very short pieces of music, voices (mostly female) uttering one phrase, fractal patterns forming out of quickly sequenced images, and so on, with possibly what may even be some correct new form of mathematics related to fractals and chaos-related calculus (which I do not work on as much as I did about twenty years ago). I can clearly hear everything in perfect stereo though the imagery is two-dimensional as on my real computer monitor (and I do not attempt to “project” into the imagery).

Again, I am not sure why I have gotten into playing around like this. It may even be originally (at least in one data track) some sort of portmanteau movie though also integrated with scientific data and other features. Some of the images on the screen are cloud forms mixed with Mandelbrot patterns. It is almost like trying to make sense out of watching frames of several different movies at once out of about a hundred total while listening to one or half a measure of various audio recordings.

I eventually notice my oldest son’s computer coming on in the next room (via the window in the internal wall) except that it is only white lines slowly appearing in sequence on a black screen as it boots up (as on an old MS-DOS system). I am surprised my son is up so early in the morning to look at his computer (as it is not yet dawn). My computer’s monitor had been facing north (as I am looking south) and my son’s computer’s monitor is facing east. Yet again, I am “fooled” (or I fool myself, more like) into integrating my Cubitis home into a recent dream setting with my typical in-dream amnesia of real-life present locations (as I am not lucid at any point). However, no composite is ever quite the same as any other even after hundreds of variations, which is intriguing in a way.

Morning of July 23, 2015. Thursday.



I am sitting at my computer desk as in real life though the room is mirrored longways (so that the open area of the room is to my left rather than to my right where the end of the desk is now against the opposite wall; however, the rest of the house, though I cannot see it, “feels” the same, as my oldest daughter’s room still, in in-dream “memory”, is to my left on the other side of the east wall). The room is mostly dark as I do not have a light on, and I assume it is nighttime.

The more I type with my keyboard (though I cannot recall the nature of what I am writing, though I am fairly certain it involved in-dream affirmations), the brighter it gets, until it is just a “slab of white light” (originally though with a bluish glow). Even though I had not been looking at my fingers, I am somewhat annoyed as it eventually seems too smooth to tap keys correctly.

Not only that, the computer monitor (the old large squarish type I still use that is about the length of my forearm) becomes black and blank and I cannot see what I am typing on the screen either. It almost reminds me of a large cloaked head (though not quite ominous).

How do people cope with this nonsense? (This is what I am thinking for a time.)

Morning of May 5, 2014. Monday.



My computer (the older one in the front room) does its thing of crashing and shutting down after being on for about a minute until a few attempts at restart by either dropping it sideways a few times or wiggling the CPU and partly broken fan around a bit and adjusting the fishing line reel succeeds in it working correctly again. Still, as is sometimes the case, the “recovery” window comes on, but it is not quite correct. I am used to incorrect random “error” windows, blue screens, multicolored mosaic random messes, and DOS screens of plain text (resulting from the fact that the CPU is malfunctioning until cooled down a bit more), but this one is eerily familiar. It reports (in a rather atypical font) “Your computer has recovered from an occurrence…”

Next, it happens again. The computer is so screwed up that the blue screen strings are longer and part of one hexadecimal value “carries over” onto the side of the vase-like black desk lamp fairly close to the right side of the monitor. It is getting pretty bad when a computer error message expands out onto the surface of another electrical item (a different one altogether), but it seems perfectly normal. Another attempt or two and the “Your computer has recovered from an occurrence…” window displays again.

Where have I heard that before? The desktop is full of identical icons. They are all of slightly painting-like owls, body a quarter turn to my right and head turned facing out towards the viewer. Only one desktop icon is different and it is of a painting-like well on the lower right corner; the “old-fashioned” kind with a rope and bucket and even a little roof. Then it dawns on me that something funny is going on. I must have the “Owl Creek Bridge” virus (which I do not think is a real one). Thus I realize that my computer has “suffered” from “An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge”. The “wishing well” icon must be clicked on to get rid of it. Terrific… However, I leave it as is for a bit…and decide to see what other people had experienced with it.

I visit a forum where someone says that the “payload” of the virus is waking you up from your dream - which does not make sense. Another says that the “payload” is making your computer disintegrate, whereby someone argues that it “disintegrated” because it was a dream and did not exist in the first place, but the other person posts a pile of ashes saying that is what is left of his laptop. The argument seems to continue for several pages and seems to go into a tirade about who is controlling the missile launches.

I then make the decision to click on an owl and see what happens. There is the odd electronic clacking of the computer-simulated “mouse click” sound and my head jerks back. I wake up with my wife touching my lower face, some sort of odd partial reversal of the actual “An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge” movie. (“waking me up from my dream”).

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Ever since earliest childhood, I had wondered how in the world dreams sometimes seem to amusingly and very “cleverly” build up to a not-yet-unfolded event or sound and have plots or themes that come way before a “concluding” real-life environmental event. That is probably one of the most unusual paranormal-like aspect of dreams (for example, I once dreamed of seeing myself, or a “copy” of myself, holding a broomstick near an overturned washtub and ready to hit it like some sort of odd musical task. After a fairly short time when I had fully “absorbed” the imagery and was already aware of it, I heard a sound in real life on the carport that sounded just like a wooden object hitting metal - my mother confirmed that was the only instance of the sound that woke me up). Not all dreams work like this of course, as some are “caught by surprise” in the middle of a dream, but many are not, too many to be coincidental as such, and too correct in the continuing detail to be chance. It is an odd type of precognition I suppose, of the several different types. Many people would claim the sound caused the dream, which is of course, a ridiculous cop-out. How can a dream come before the sound that supposedly caused it (although, obviously, this does happen at times in other cases)?

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Morning of September 11, 1983. Sunday.



This is one of several very vivid (but non-lucid) dreams that seemed to reflect aspects of foreshadowing regarding 9-11. Dreams of this type (including one similar to this one) seemed to start in 1977, where the main patterns of a more precise nature regarding my future wife (especially regarding her “conquering” of Susan R, the “other”) were already in play, so to speak.

My dream starts out where I am in a large wheat field. I seem to be in a fairly good mood and am feeling relaxed. However, there is a sense of impending disaster for some reason. Looking back towards the horizon (I am not sure of directional orientation - if I went by my Cubitis bedroom and in-dream focus, it would be mostly to the northeast), I see a low-flying airplane. There are two skyscrapers in the distance (but no other more discernible buildings or landmarks). The airplane is heading directly for one of the skyscrapers, the one on my right. Knowing it will probably crash (seemingly on purpose) and even though it is not that close to where I am, I start running west.

As I run west, I seem to feel myself either shrinking or at least changing in perspective in a very bizarre way. I suddenly seem to be running through some sort of metallic tunnel which is like an awareness of running inside of a “giant computer” with various printed circuits on floor, walls, and ceiling. Behind me is an approaching energy that I know will destroy me and anyone else in the world or at least in the region. It makes a sort of sizzling sound as it gets closer and closer to me. In the distance, at the end of this “hall”, I see a forest and hope I will reach it.

I perceive a phrase somewhat dramatically, “That’s it, that’s all, it’s everything gone!” almost like a line from poetry. I awake at this time as the sizzling gets louder behind me and I feel an intense heat. I have a sense that this giant hall has something to do with people communicating by computer on a global scale, but that the airplane has triggered the end of all the circuits or some such through an increasingly destructive explosion. This was a typical composite precognitive event. It was quite some time until I was actually “inside” computers relative to being able to easily manipulate machine language code (through a self-learning process and realizing it was all mostly “conditional jumps” and little else) until I went on to something else, as I then took on the perspective that computer technology was at least half-myth and most of what programmers claimed was false, which of course is as with pretty much everything else.

This dream appears to have a legitimate and typical precognitive marker. Even though the airplane crashing into the skyscraper (tower) is the waking component in this case, it is also a September 11th dream and has other legitimate associations with terror such as when I cry out “That’s it, that’s all, it’s everything gone!” This causes me to ponder what is really going on in other levels of collective consciousness over any given longer time period. While it is true that the skyscraper as the tower here is my emergent consciousness and the airplane the projection of my dream self in being “stopped” during the waking transition, there is more to it, primarily literal. I run through the tunnel which is also the waking conduit (more accessible here than the tower), even more so as it looks like a circuit-board on all four sides (two walls, ceiling, and floor), the circuit-board being a model of the human brain, here upsized as my dream self seems downsized, almost shrunken.

Night of October 5, 1977. Wednesday.



This is one of those dreams I did more personal work with at the time because it was much longer than usual and more vivid throughout. I had other “versions” of it later on and made a comic which I no longer have.

Near the beginning, there was the idea of going on a long journey. Part of the journey was related to finding answers and learning from a large new computer, supposedly the best built thus far. This was long before computer technology was a more familiar asset in everyday life. It would be about the size of a house and all the data in the world would be active within it. It was almost like a quest, I suppose, or maybe a play on “question” relative to the idea of a quest, as that is regarding the last scene of my dream.

The first part involves scenes relating to watching the shapes of clouds in the backyard of my home in Cubitis. For some reason, Ernie and Bert, the “Muppets” from “Sesame Street”, are doing a longer skit from behind the area of the foundation of the shed that my father had been taking down that section of. I cannot quite hear the routine. A light rain begins to fall. The rain sizzles in an odd way on the Muppets’ “skin”.

There are other people with me, mostly unfamiliar, but I seem to be on my own at times. My older brother Jim joins us in the last section, though. We go through different landscapes, heading southwest. One scene involves looking down from a narrow wooden bridge over a stream, not that far above the water. Even though the stream is likely to be a freshwater stream, I see a colorful (seemingly spotted) orange octopus which then seems to be a brittle star. Although an octopus has eight arms and a brittle star has five, the brittle star in my dream seems to have eight arms at times. I watch it for a few minutes through the wavy patterns of the water’s surface. I did find out much later, though, that there are eight-armed sea stars in Australian waters near where I was to live many years later. An awareness of the numerical pattern regarding the number of arms (or assumed arms) being eight and five. My first initial came up, then a zero (as a potential egg?), the full four-digit sequence turned out to be a way to easily manipulate the “choices” that computers used many years later (interestingly, in 32-bit hexadecimal, which came long after the 16-bit ones) and led me to finding out all I needed to know about computer technology and the bizarre lies and popular myths that were built over a longer time period to where it now all seems like a mythological religion in the mainstream domain - to be able to get a program to do anything I wanted. (The bridge over the stream in my dream seemed to later represent the concept of “being above the mainstream” - perhaps meaning having more knowledge than the mainstream.)

There are other scenes of moving through landscapes, reminding me a little of “Damnation Alley”, which I had only seen the trailer of at the time but did see eventually. The movie has a similar aspect as one part of my dream - very strange “clouds” (unusual bands in the sky), an effect I do not recall seeing in any other movie, and quite intriguing, really. I also had a paperback book with stills from the movie, which I think I later got fifty cents for at a bookstore in Wisconsin. I would not refer to the dream environments as dystopian, though, it is quite varied.

The outcome of my dream is that I and others reach a large business building where the computer is kept. It almost seems as if we have not traveled that far or maybe are still near the area from where we first started in my backyard. My brother Jim is there (who had a higher interest in computers - more than anyone else I knew - long after this dream - and was the first person I knew in real life to get a computer) and talking to different people who are behind desks. One part of my dream seems to feature a structure that is somewhat like a railroad track - creating impressions of both underground mines and the “Haunted Mansion” ride at Disney World. It seems one section of the tracks goes near or even into the large computer.

I approach the computer and ask it what the family name of cats is. After standing there a short time, a paper prints out (as well as it being said in an electronic voice) the word “Felidae”. I then ask it what the family name of dogs is, and another paper comes out that reads “Canidae”, also with audio.

“Do you know everything?” I ask the computer.

“Yes,” says the computer, “Welcome to MYOPIA!”

“Don’t you mean Utopia?” I ask.

“I can’t see,” mumbles the “computer”, and then it curses. I lift a small, rectangular, silver door at about upper-chest height and a very chubby, sweating man looks up through the small patch of light going into the area he is enclosed in. He has a large open book he appears to be looking things up in. He then runs out from the side of the computer by opening a larger metallic door and at first I try to catch him (to publicly expose the whole business as a fraud), but I soon give up. He jumps into a coal cart and it moves down the track to the north. The “great computer” was completely fake.