• Lucid Dreaming - Dream Views

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    1. Out for a Ride on a Back-to-Back Couch Car

      by , 12-20-2020 at 08:51 AM
      Morning of December 20, 2020. Sunday.

      Dream #: 19,725-02. Reading time (optimized): 2 min.

      My typical navigation of liminality and phasing sequences during sleep does not include waking-life identity at first or recall of what a dream is. The extraordinarily vivid experience of imaginary kinaesthesia is predominant throughout the first part of my dreaming experience.

      Duality with vestibular phasing personification results in an unknown male driving a vehicle I ride in. The “car” is solely two back-to-back couches on wheels. It is similar to the couch I sit on in waking life, though I am on the far left (unlike at any time in waking life). We go through an unknown city. There does not appear to be a steering wheel anywhere. Somehow, as we are traveling, the unfamiliar man leaves. I remain on the front couch while his wife and at least one son stay on the back couch. Additionally, the “vehicle” is now speedily going in reverse over an overpass.

      The realism of imaginary kinaesthesia, including the vivid sense of momentum and direction, is astounding. I become slightly wary at times, but I do not have any fear. The others, speeding forward, do not seem afraid. As the front couch speeds in reverse, I see cars on the street of the appearance they should have, yet which does not cause me to question why our “car” is back-to-back couches.

      I consider I will try to stop or at least slow down the couch as our speed increases slightly. On the left end, below the arm, is a lever. (In waking life, this is the lever that extends the footrest.) As I pull it, I feel the couch slow down and come to a stop in the parking lot of a shopping mall. We all get out, and our driver is there looking at a storefront. Two people talk to him as they are leaving. They say they cannot give him a tour but invite him to look around inside the empty store. Dagwood Bumstead (from the “Blondie” comic strip) is standing nearby.

      I begin to recall my waking-life identity, but I walk to an unknown residence where my family and I supposedly live. I walk through a room with a Christmas tree in the corner. I see the isolated shadow of a tree’s branch on the ceiling (truncated as a circular form), with no source, but I perceive it as random dirt I will remove later.

      Somatosensory phasing begins with increasing liminal awareness of being asleep in bed in my dream’s final segment. Gustatory phasing coheres with somatosensory phasing. As a result, in my dream, I am on a bed. I need to clean candy sprinkles from it. I scoop them up to eat, and their taste is sweet. The hundreds of tiny pieces of candy form a pattern similar to a river delta. There seems to be no end to them as I continue to eat as many as possible. The bed extends several feet, even into another room. No matter how many sprinkles I pick up to eat, there are always several remaining.

    2. Magazines, Screws, Hinges, and a Metal Uterus

      by , 08-05-2018 at 11:09 AM
      Morning of August 5, 2018. Sunday.

      Reading time: 2 min 36 sec. Readability score: 68.

      My dream features several ambiguous transitions, as is often the case. A thread of my dream self identity that links to my current awareness of being with Zsuzsanna is present, but not much else.

      The setting is mainly the living room of the Loomis Street house. The couch (near the south window as it was in reality) is not the couch of that time, but like the one from Cubitis when I was a teenager. (This is the one where the back dropped down to make a single bed.) Additionally, despite my lack of viable memory of my current conscious self, it also has the essence of the couch from our current home. Three-way ambiguity is a typical feature of my dreams. This setup does not “mean” anything other than the usual subliminal awareness of being in bed. Dream state indicators of this nature have occurred throughout every sleep cycle all my life.

      A thread of potential consciousness initiation emerges. There are several piles of magazines in the storage area in the bottom of the couch. It reflects my desire to become more aware in the dream state (by focusing on printed text), but I remain non-lucid. Zsuzsanna is with me and seems very cheerful. I am somewhat puzzled by how so many magazines could fit under the couch seat, as they seem higher than the top of the storage area by several inches.

      My desire for conscious awareness increases but shifts to a different scene. Now I am sitting on a blanket on the floor, still an association with subliminal knowledge of being in bed. An unfamiliar girl is sitting on the floor near me. Later, an unknown male is also present.

      I am sorting through various items that had been mixed in with the magazines (even though all the piles were flat). There are many loose screws and metal items. Some seem to be part of handyman kits. I start to gather pieces that go together, thinking that I could sell them. There are some singular hinges, but not all the screws are with them. One screw I try to match with the other is too different. (This all relates to my non-lucid dream self trying to build cohesive conscious self awareness in RAS mediation.) One set of hinges, when open, looks somewhat like the 2009 Chrysler logo. (This is probably this dream’s vestibular system correlation, as it resembles wings as well as having a doorway association.)

      Once again, there is a change in awareness. The Loomis Street living room now takes on the typical essence of bilocation. My dream self is indoors and outdoors at the same time. On one level, it is still the Loomis Street living room. On another level, it is in an outdoor rural area near an unfamiliar farm. An interconsciousness avatar is present as a farmer. The farmer’s origin is the Loomis Street house’s northeast bedroom, which is simultaneously an open section of a barn.

      I am looking at a metal uterus, considering it is part of a V8 engine. It is rather light. It has what seems like small multicolored scales over most of its surface. I say how it is “ragged” as I move my fingers over the scales, thinking of it as an analogy to long-term use and becoming rusty. I give it to the farmer to look at, and it seems he may buy it for a V8 tractor. It is still in good condition according to him.

      The last part of this dream, in part, comes from our youngest daughter’s T-shirt that features sequins which change color when moving your hand over them. They also feel like small “ragged” rough scales. Another association stems directly from many years ago. A highly intoxicated unknown male had stopped at a rummage sale on Loomis Street and bought one of my father’s hole cutter drill bits even though its surface was mostly rust-covered.

    3. Phone on Fire

      by , 06-04-2018 at 11:27 AM
      Night of June 3, 2018. Sunday.

      This brief vivid lucid dream was triggered by a lapse into unconsciousness while I was contemplating liminal space while still semi-conscious. I was actually thinking about a telephone and its autosymbolic meaning in representing potential communication between dream self and conscious self, though was visualizing a rotary telephone sitting on a table with my dream self in the room and my conscious self on the other side of the wall. It is rendered as a simple sketchy diagram (with the correct waking orientation layout, the dream self room with the telephone on the left and my conscious self’s room on the right).

      Eventually, I am within a vivid lucid dream. Zsuzsanna’s cell phone is sitting on the top of the couch and very soon catches on fire for no discernible reason. I find this intriguing and immediately wake.

      No mystery here, as waking processes of shorter dreams since early childhood have often involved fire suddenly starting as consciousness initiation autosymbolism, not quite as common as vestibular system correlation though sometimes combined in waking process synthesis with such as a meteor or falling and burning airplane and many more forms of inherent autosymbolism of which is unrelated to waking life in most cases (other than when prescient or as a literal carryover).

      This is additionally validated by the cell phone being in the fictitious location atop the couch where I had just otherwise had my head in reality prior to going to bed (thus my lucid dream self was focusing on the last place my physical brain was before being in bed in addition to thinking about communication through liminal space of which the cell phone represented).

    4. Digging Through the Couch

      by , 05-19-2015 at 10:52 AM
      Morning of May 19, 2015. Tuesday.

      Scenes in dreams like the following, related to digging through something like a couch, the floor, or a mattress, have not been that uncommon throughout my life since childhood but are usually fairly different in detail. Also, finding stuff in our house that had been left behind by any previous tenants or landlord (not necessarily requiring any digging in every case) is also recurring - though again, with different details, including previously “hidden” rooms or furniture we somehow had not noticed before. In addition to the fair amount of time spent in-dream looking for and finding things, there is often a mild sense of disappointment as well as having wasted time in some cases upon waking; a mood I usually do not acquire from a dream. In fact, as a child, when I did not know any better, I had a habit of holding onto the last item I found steadfastly in a futile attempt to wake up with it and have it in reality, though obviously, that never worked. I sometimes woke gripping my pillow or the sheet; other times just making a fist.

      This dream has the recurring “couch filled with dirt” situation. My wife and I are in our present home on W Street and at one point I develop a vague curiosity about what may have been left behind by any previous tenants. It does not make all that much sense due to the fact that the couch, of the type that becomes a bed by the back dropping down (rather than the type we have in reality that folds out into a larger bed from under the seat) - and of the kind I had in Florida as a teenager for a time - is apparently our furniture in my dream (and thus moved here from a previous house regarding any in-dream back story, rendering my dream’s situation invalid). I start by ripping back the material near one end and digging through the dark dirt filling. At some points, I am able to go around the edges near the floor and find more items. Apparently, unlike in reality, there are no cushions; just “dirt bedding” within that goes all the way down to the floor.

      What I find is typical of my in-dream “treasure hunts”. I find a few old random paperback novels; some science-fiction, some romance, and even a western or two (all unfamiliar). I find a couple board games that likely have missing tokens. There are some old magazines, larger documents that look like order blanks from A4-sized catalogs, but not any comic books that I can see. Being buried in rich soil for however long has not ruined anything, it seems. I eventually notice what may be some of our own paperback books (and some other items) close to the wall but behind the couch and stacked loosely on the floor, but am not exactly sure where our books end and the previously hidden items begin at one point since the dirt had become looser and some items came out from the back of the couch.

      At one point, I find a longer mostly yellow commercial cardboard container (about one and a half feet by four inches high by eight inches wide) that apparently contains something related to sexuality or the enhancement thereof, though there are no graphic images on the box, just a few printed images of smooth paintings of the backs of a pair of female hands. For a short time, I think that I would probably not want something that belonged to someone else in this case, though the box turns out to be empty other than having two smaller additional featureless gray empty cardboard boxes inside. I am not sure what was in it - possibly only perfume containers or massage oils of some sort.

      Eventually, after sorting out mostly the paperbacks into stacks, I also find a number of children’s cardboard frame tray puzzles farther down but do not see the pieces at first (just the shallow cardboard trays). I do eventually find most of the pieces in another area when almost all of the dirt has been moved and I am down to the surface of the wooden floor. One puzzle seems to just utilize a large piece with a drawing of a person’s head that fits in the frame tray (which has minor details of the shoulders and neck, etc.), though others are more complex and “realistic” in nature and including pieces shaped like stars, apples, houses, etc. I notice that some of the pieces have been ruined by someone’s attempt to pull the different layers apart (as younger children sometimes tend to do), some with thin parts of the layers or strips still attached and a couple missing the imagery ply. I decide to keep them to sort out later (for our children) to see which ones are still complete and undamaged.

      After a long exploration and setting aside newly found items, I am somewhat frustrated over having reached the wooden floor via the couch, wondering if I should keep going with my quest, though which would require pulling up the planks to get to anything underneath them (which does not make any sense as in reality our house is up on posts and you can actually see through the floorboards to the ground below). I am also puzzled over what had happened to all the dirt since the couch seems somewhat “hollow” at this point (at least on one end) and I do not see any piles of dirt nearby. I do start to smooth over what dirt is left at the other end in the attempt to make the couch “solid” and evenly surfaced as it was, so that it is properly comfortable again. (This is somewhat illogical as the upholstery I had ripped and damaged in my quest would still need to be repaired.)

      Finally, I seem to be able to look down under the house and beyond (towards the back of our house) and under a different room; some sort of odd viewpoint that would not be possible in reality (though which may otherwise imply some sort of open space between the lower part of the wall in the next room and the floor, similar to the setup way back on Rose Street as a young child). I see that there are a very large number of small wooden containers under the house in a (fictional) enclosed storage area, each filled with a very large number of vertically arranged seed packets, which I am aware are likely mostly edible plants including carrots, celery, lettuce, strawberry plants, and so on. I start to consider planting them everywhere and anywhere, as there are so many, we are bound to get something edible over time, and for a long time, as there seem to be thousands of packets. I wake up feeling slightly annoyed at having wasted time finding everything.
      Tags: couch, digging
    5. Human remains inside couch (recurring dream theme)

      by , 06-19-2013 at 12:19 PM
      Morning of June 19, 2013. Wednesday.

      This dream uses a fairly recurring idea of human remains being inside a couch (sometimes inside the cushions).

      In my dream, I am sharing a place with the actor from the television series “Lost”, Josh Holloway, that I vaguely dreamt of only once before as his Sawyer character (in a representation of Tom Sawyer in that particular dream). In this dream he is also his Sawyer character, but instead, named Sylvester (even after waking, “Sylvester” seemed to be his “real” name or “identify”). The apartment seems to be one I had in real life at King Street when I was in my late teens, the one where I also had a noisy refrigerator in one of two larger closets and which was an “expensive” $25.00 a week. (I had, in total, three different apartments in that large historical house during those years; the smaller L-shaped one in back, the one in front with the rocket-like cupola on the east side, and a larger one near the middle of the building as in this dream.)

      He is sleeping on the couch in our apartment, but wakes up because the couch seems to be moving inside. A large nail is sort of moving out from its position along the top area of the frame of the seat area in front, near the middle, but closer to the west end. This is very mysterious as if from some sort of ghostly activity. The nail slowly moves out as if representing some sort of approaching eerie revelation. Sylvester seems a bit nervous. I mostly find it curious and not really frightening in any way.

      Eventually, there are bluish-green fingers visible, of a sort of ghostly nature that continue to work in moving the nail. The fingers are the only thing that is visible at the time, seeming to come out of the surface of the wood around the nail. (Some sort of odd play on “fingernail”?)

      A little later, the east arm of the couch opens up from the front (I think we both may have pulled the upholstery off) - on my left when facing the couch - showing it to be somewhat like a two-level shelf. The bottom area holds a human skull, the second “shelf” or part of the internal couch frame holds a bowl of old human eyes and hair, and a skeletal hand is also inside the arm.

      Sylvester is rather alarmed and of course, people must be told. There is no idea at all of whom it may have been or what happened. I am thinking that the bluish-green hand may be part of an arm that was kept in another part of the couch and acting somewhat like ghostly “remains”.

      It is easy to determine here that the “ghost” inside the couch (a dream sign, as one can sleep on a couch) is a subliminal distorted perception of my sleeping body. But why Josh and why is he called Sylvester? He played a character that was on an island (dream state within sleep as water represents sleep). I associate the name Sylvester with the cartoon character Sylvester the Cat. A cat is a circadian rhythms feature (as well as a liminal space element) typically based on nighttime activities (such as dreaming). (Even though a cat seems to sleep a lot, they are of course active in the daytime.) The skull on the shelf represents lesser critical thinking skills (such as reading books) while in the dream state.

      Updated 11-30-2016 at 12:46 PM by 1390