Blue_Opossum

Morning of June 21, 2017. Wednesday.



I am in my bedroom in Cubitis (where I have not been in real life since the summer of 1978). There is not much furniture present other than a bed. My room is full of very shiny small gold nuggets and gold dust with a few piles of gold coins. It seems to be nighttime.

I do not consider that my bedroom being filled with gold all over the floor from wall to wall is unusual in any way. I also do not consider that it is unusual that I am Casper the Friendly Ghost, in cartoon form. Wendy the Good Little Witch is visiting. There is no direct association with humanity at all.

Snorkledorf, the Freakies Cereal character, though not associated as such by my dream self, is approaching from the west. Wendy and I know that we are in danger. He will most certainly eat all my gold and then eat us. We decide to flee. Wendy and I fly northwest, and although I phase through the wall as I am flying because I am a ghost (though I often do this as my more conscious-self-based dream self), Wendy does as well, which puzzles me briefly. Perhaps she quickly used her magic wand. For a short time, I am thinking that she could turn Snorkledorf into something else, but that might not prove to be feasible.

We both fly north now. The area is no longer like rural Cubitis but not like a city block, either. The houses are close together, the backs of the houses facing each other, with shared backyards (an interesting dream distortion). Somehow, the area seems familiar or at least “correct” to me (even though it is entirely unique) and I decide to fly to the library. Wendy is no longer with me. I get the idea that Snorkledorf might be able to track our direction using his sense of smell, but that concern fades.

In the unfamiliar library, I am “myself” to some degree. That is, my dream self identity is now human but there are not many threads of my current conscious self identity, though I have no dream-self memory of having just been Casper the Friendly Ghost. I discern my fictional dream self as when I was around twenty-five (even though I had not been in Cubitis since age seventeen). I “know” that the library is north of my home in Cubitis, the other side of Highway Seventeen from where the plant nursery would have been in reality (as well as the opposite side of the highway as my home was). As usual, this is the first time this fictional layout has ever been rendered. There was no public library in Cubitis.

I look westerly at a tall wooden magazine rack and see a variety of magazines and comic books. I think I might buy a book I see in about the center of the rack, which is a graphic novel of perhaps sixty-four pages, though it feels thicker when I stroke the slightly irregular spine with my right thumb and index finger. Even though I am not familiar with its content and it does not seem all that interesting, I decide I will buy it as I read the price on it as $1.13; a dollar and thirteen cents. My dream self does not consider that, being in a library and probably not part of an ongoing book sale (though there are book sales at our local library in real life), that I could not buy it even though I plan to.

I turn around and lean down upon a heavy wooden table to read the book more closely. There are a few other people seated at it, including a very chubby short-haired unfamiliar male on my right (south) of about twenty. As I lean upon the table while turning a couple pages of the graphic novel, the heavy table begins to tip to the point where its top is almost diagonal to the floor.

“I’m sorry,” I say to the small group of people, as I catch and pull the table back upright before it is fully on its side.

“If you could harvest that energy, you could solve the global energy crisis,” the chubby male says formally but cheerfully. I wake.

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• The gold in my Cubitis bedroom uniquely symbolizes all my dreams that I had documented and decoded in my youth.
• Snorkledorf in this case symbolizes so-called dream interpreters. They “eat” (read) someone else’s dream without knowing what a dream is (what gold is for). They “trumpet” (as does Snorkledorf) an irritating out-of-tune fallacious “interpretation” with no understanding of personal value or experience or true meaning.
• Being Casper and flying is a waking symbolism precursor. Flying is the main anticipatory form of waking from a dream. Some “experts” believe this evolved from our ancestors falling out of trees while sleeping, but other “experts” have other theories, such as unconscious confusion of the physical body being horizontal in sleep while residual threads of the conscious self identity are rendered as upright in the dream state. I am more inclined to believe the second theory.
• $1.13, the cover price of the graphic novel, relates to how long I had been sleeping, an hour and thirteen minutes, a format I picked up from watching the timer on our DVD player so many times over the years. The graphic novel itself symbolizes being in the dream state.
• It is curious that the personified preconscious (though already coalescing into my emergent consciousness) said “harvest” instead of “harness”. (“Harvest” would imply getting electricity from plants, thus I suspect it means on one level that I should eat more green vegetables for more energy.)
• Thinking that Wendy could transform Snorkledorf with her magic relates to a conversation Zsuzsanna and I had prior to my dream. Neither of us have any answers for what is really wrong with much of humanity, regardless of how many times we had discussed it. This also relates to a recent analogy I came up with. Being an Internet dream journalist with over fifty years of experience is like being a heart surgeon with a detailed personal diary and additional book on anatomy. In the night, a person comes in through the window and scribbles in the margins “explaining” how the human body is run on hamster wheels…

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Morning of February 25, 2017. Saturday.



Although there was more to this dream, there are only three significant (and more discernible or less surreal) stages.

In the first main scene, John Locke and Jack Shephard of the “Lost” television series are in the jungle. They are being pursued (over time) by a large creature they originally were trying to discover more about. I am not sure if I am meant to be “in” the episode though I am not directly part of this particular scene.

John and Jack quickly make their way to an unusual building that seems cylindrical. (I watch the scene while facing the building from at least ten feet away.) The entrance is a set of double doors that are each semicircular on each hinged side. The creature’s head and long neck comes in snakelike through the doors before they are fully closed. The monster manages to swallow John Locke whole as Jack looks on from a short distance.

I am then at a meeting. The writers of the episode are present. It seems that the episode is still being filmed (which I assume as I am then in the supposed episode after this scene).

I am then sitting in the back seat of a car with Kate Austen in a parking lot late at night. She is on my right. However, I am confused by the nature of this scene as I first assume that we had been swallowed by the creature that swallowed John Locke and that I am supposed to be seeing the inside of the creature (perhaps its throat) instead of what I see to be the inside of a car. I especially focus very vividly on the small triangular window over Kate’s shoulder and I even ask her if we are supposed to have been swallowed and are now in the monster in this scene (though no director yells “cut” though maybe this is a practice scene). I am trying to work out if this (the small triangular car window) is meant to be one of the monster’s gills or if we are really in a car. If so, the “effects” leave much to be desired.

Over time, “Kate” is more like a younger version of Zsuzsanna. I am still confused as, even though Kate and I were supposed to have been swallowed in this “Lost” episode scene, it seems more like I am just sitting in a car in the large parking lot of a mall with no film crew around.

• Kate becoming (or already subliminally implied to be) Zsuzsanna is an example of the otherwise less active preconscious (in the second-to-last dream of a sleep cycle) “correcting” itself.
• A parking lot is autosymbolism for a specific level of awareness in liminal space and the subliminal realization of the body being inactive while asleep.
• The snakelike creature swallowing John Locke is a typical coalescence factor and although it causes my dream to shift into a different scene and somewhat clearer level of awareness, it is not an immediate waking precursor. However, as the scene after this involves a meeting with the show’s writers, it still potentially implies a very partial awakening, validated by the last scene being utter confusion in liminal space (the nighttime parking lot scene which builds on emergent memory of being in bed with Zsuzsanna).

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Morning of September 28, 1968. Saturday.



I am sent to a warehouse-like area during school hours (even though I sense it is a Saturday - as it indeed is in real life) west of the school (West Elementary) and across the street to get a couple of textbooks, I think for other students (and perhaps one for myself). It is fairly dark inside.

A large “dogerpillar” crawls slowly near me from another part of the warehouse as a mist seems to rise up from the floor. There are shades of cyan, purple, white, and orange, and, terrified it will reach me, I stand up on a large crate just barely out of its reach as It is unable to lift itself, and can only crawl horizontally, which is an in-dream “relief” to me. It is at least a foot high or more and about five feet long. It starts making a strange, short mournful whining sound and I start to try to imitate the sound so that the creature will think I am one of its young (or one of its kind at least) and move on elsewhere. I continue to stand on the box making the sound in a somewhat worried state. Originally I had written “After awhile, I think that the creature may end up thinking that I am its offspring and may want something from me or to properly feed me! It seems there may not be a real way out.”

I am less afraid near the end (but still have an odd in-dream “faux end of the world” nervousness), but am concerned about missing reading class, and am wondering why they did not keep such a weird creature locked up. There is sort of a concern that I may never get out, but I slowly wake. (Oddly, there is no stronger thought of attempting to run away, even though the creature is very slow in its movements.)

Upon waking, I had found out (from my mother) that I was making a similar sound (vaguely like “vumpadump”) for several minutes before waking from the very vivid dream. (I have heard from some people that a person is unable to make sounds or speak in syllables when dreaming, but like almost everything else I have heard about dreams - it personally turned out to be wrong.) It is possible that the creature was partly based on the one from “The Monster That Challenged the World”, which I saw on Rose Street when about age five.

The very first dream journal title of this was “The Thing in the Room”. Someone who saw it (David K) said the title should be changed to “The Thing in the Attic”, which was pointless, as it was not an attic, so I later changed it to “The Thing in the Warehouse”. Because of what it looked like (a giant caterpillar with a weird dog-like head), the final title was “The Dogerpillar”.

This was not the first version of this dream. See this link: http://blue-opossum.tumblr.com/post/...ditional-notes

Morning of October 27, 1965. Wednesday. Supplements added on Sunday, 23 July 2017.



A large hairy light brown monster opens a door at the very start of my short dream but seems about normal-sized for the doorway. About twenty tiny people (“tiny” as resolved in conscious afterthought only), all adult men and women; most nude, some dressed; are clinging to him as if he had magnetically attracted them with his fur. He seems annoyed, apparently not wanting all the people hanging on him, but this is only my first thought as a couple other ideas form prior to waking. I do not feel threatened as I seem to only be watching my dream even though I do seem to be at the location.

It seems to be taking place in my sister Marilyn’s apartment on 901 Rose Street, the creature coming into the room from the west side, though the floor seemingly has floorboards as seen in a Harvey “Casper the Friendly Ghost” comic book. There were no discernible features in the room, as if it was mostly empty. For a very short time, it also seems that some of the people may be trying to tackle the monster, but there is also a conflicting thought that the monster may be deliberately gathering the people with its magnetic fur to perhaps cook in a stew. There is no backstory to the scene. The monster stands in the doorway, growling as if possibly annoyed by “wearing” these people and my dream ends with a slight abdominal twitch (which is not unpleasant). It is apparent that the monster does not see me, though I may be invisible or incorporeal.

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Dreams often render “impossible” scenes that cannot be resolved consciously. In this case, my dream self perceives both the doorway and the people as of normal size. However, each person would have to be less than a foot tall to resolve the scene.

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This dream is a curious and intriguing blend of two forms of waking symbolism, and in fact, taught me a lot about the nature of dreams as well as remaining a facet of why I devoted my life to understanding them.

Coalescence waking symbolism: Near the end of a dream, as in this case, ambiguous elements sometimes combine, which represents different neural energies unifying by way of the emergent consciousness event (as this dream expresses the real-time metaphor of “gathering thoughts” during the waking transition). It is a function native to the dream state.

Doorway waking symbolism: As a doorway is mainly real-time exit symbolism (other than when it is used to initiate apex lucidity), a dream’s rendering of a doorway means nothing more than the dream changing in level of awareness or ending. To conceptualize that such waking symbolism evolved from my mother being in my bedroom’s doorway waking me up in the morning as a child may be moot, as such symbolism might have developed naturally, because waking up is a biological necessity.

Biological factor: Though this is only theoretical, my dream may also contain an analogy of white blood cells attacking a parasite, not necessarily relevant to my physical status, but my sister’s. (Dreams, including precognitive dreams, revealing the changing status of another person’s health, have occurred a number of times throughout my life.)

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Personal factor: It is known that the preconscious sometimes represents a parent (or other relative or any role of authority) regardless of the nature of the rendering. If that is the case here, it seems that it could be seen as motherly discomposure over a child being too clingy.

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The original title was “The Magnetic Monster”. In 1974, when copying my oldest dreams over to newer paper and notebooks and with more mature writing and better organization, I changed the title to “The Biomagnetic Monster”. It is doubtful that I had heard the word “biomagnetic” prior to that.

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• It has been validated that doorway waking symbolism is sometimes initiated by real environmental noise while I am sleeping. This adds to the likelihood of having otherwise evolved from my mother waking me up in the morning.
• The involuntary abdominal muscle movement upon waking is most common with doorway waking symbolism. I can actually trigger this event while conscious by placing myself in a heightened state of anticipation.

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