• Lucid Dreaming - Dream Views

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    1. Brunei Water Village

      by , 10-24-2018 at 04:24 PM
      Morning of October 24, 2018. Wednesday.

      Dream #: 18,937-01. Reading time (optimized): 1 min. Readability score (optimized): 60.

      My family and I (in my dream’s fictitious backstory), mostly as we appear now, had been living in Kampong Ayer, a Brunei water village, for about a year. Other than this fallacy, my conscious self identity is extant, though I am not lucid.

      There is a vague concern about my dream journals becoming damp, as there is a false memory that I keep them on the floor, where there are gaps in the floorboards directly over the water. However, I do not act upon these thoughts.

      While outside on the boardwalk, I notice that two of our curtains had moved out to the outside of the window and had become submerged in the water by about two inches. I also see a curved board on the outer wall, warped from dampness, about halfway up on the outer wall.

      The curved board is a literal, though indoor, real-life feature near our lounge room ceiling. It was caused by the indoor rainstorm when our roof was torn off in November of last year.

      Common strands:

      Melatonin mediation and circadian rhythm (The presence of water and its specific forms and dynamics is a temporal association with the sleep cycle)

      Literal dream space strand (Literal association with dreams while in the dream state, in this case, thinking about my dream journals)

      Curtains and window as a specific level of division between dreaming and waking (Common factor of subliminal awareness of being in the dream state, though I have often used curtains in lucidly and non-lucidly controlled dreams)

    2. Animal Rights Intruder

      by , 08-28-2018 at 01:09 PM
      Morning of August 27, 2018. Monday.

      Reading time: 1 min 31 sec. Readability score: 65.

      I am in our bed at our present address. It seems to be morning, after sunrise. Zsuzsanna is sleeping on my left. The bed is in the correct location. There is light coming from both sides of the closed curtain at the head of our bed.

      RAS mediation takes the typical form as an intrusion, though does not breach my dream self’s side of liminal space. (The avatar remains outside, near our window.)

      Also atypical is that it seems to be serving the opposite purpose it usually does in the final dream of a sleep cycle, sleep reinduction rather than waking. The avatar takes the form of an unfamiliar animal rights activist. The backstory is that our neighbors to our west have several animals on their property, including a few wild animals. (In real life, there are no neighbors to our west as it is the street, but my dream self, despite most of my conscious self identity being present, does not discern this error.)

      The avatar assumes that our house is part of our neighbor’s setup where the animals are. He wants to keep the animals calm by placing large blankets over cages and containers as well as blocking off the areas from each other.

      I become annoyed when it seems he had covered at least the left side of our window with a large blanket and will probably go to the right side. Later, however, when I am awake, I see that the room is light and I realize I had been dreaming.

      This dream (as well as another with a different plot) was unexpectedly precognitive (as they often are even when using typical components and autosymbolism), but only loosely. A worker showed up, illegally (without RTA notice) by the landlord to put in a high solid metal fence division to cut off our backyard from being accessed from our front yard, an incredibly stupid and dangerous idea (as it is even called “death trap” in some regions). No matter, I manually removed it without power tools as soon as the worker left.

      I knew there was something different about this dream. The behavior of the avatar made no sense. It was discerning interconsciousness threads (with no way of me otherwise consciously knowing ahead of time what the plans were).

    3. While Controlling Curtains, a Tidal Wave Comes

      by , 01-26-2018 at 06:20 AM
      Morning of January 26, 2018. Friday.

      I become aware of being in the living room of the Cubitis house. (No threads of my present conscious self identity are extant at this time.)

      My father is alive and as he was in the 1960s. I have no recall of his death in 1979. He is standing near the north end of the living room. I am sitting closer to the kitchenette.

      A television is on for a short time. It shows a group of teenagers yelling and going into a school building. “I never really liked school,” I tell my father, “I would have rather gone to a labor camp, chopping wood or laying bricks.” My father seems passive but expresses mild interest in what I am saying. Eventually, I decide that this is not entirely true, as I did not mind elementary school so much. (This is mainly a result of the typical failure of viable memories in the dream state. I did not really dislike school as much as my fictional dream self implies here. It seems to be a reference to when I actually did chop wood, use a fence pole digger, and help build a fence instead of going to middle school for a short time, when the “outdoor classroom” was first being designed and built in Florida.)

      Eventually, I get the impression that I can influence the movement of the curtain on the east window, closest to the kitchenette. Although I am not lucid, I start to notice that the curtain responds directly to what I say aloud (similar to how a real-time scripted dream works, and yet, again, there is no lucidity at any point). My father goes to the southwest bedroom as I remain in the living room. After I am sure I am controlling the curtain, I call to him to show him what I can do, but I do not see him. The situation is interesting but somewhat eerie. “Up to the ceiling,” I say, and the curtain obeys, swaying and moving to become flat against the ceiling. “Twist around,” I say, and the curtain twists itself around. “To the right,” I say, and the curtain slowly moves toward the kitchenette. I do this about twenty times, with at least five different instructions, and they always work.

      I become distracted by a noise in the backyard. Looking out, I notice a tidal wave, all along the eastern horizon, approaching from a distance. It seems to be nighttime, but I can see the whiteness of the high foamy wave.

      “Tidal wave, there is a tidal wave coming,” I yell. I do not see my father come out, but I am trying to warn him. Soon, the tidal wave hits the house. I can feel the house shake. I see and feel water coming in through the east windows. It flows quickly throughout the living room and my bedroom, and yet there is no direct impact of water on my body, only some cool refreshing splashes. Still, I yell, seeing that several high stacks of paper with documented dreams, under my bed, are apparently soaked, and I slowly recall Zsuzsanna’s dream journals as well. There is wetness, but no indication of flooding over the floor at this point.

      I yell in annoyance just as I hear Zsuzsanna and our children on the carport. I get the impression that they had just returned from shopping or the library. Zsuzsanna calls out to me, wondering what is going on. There is no indication that the tidal wave had affected their approach to the house, or that they had even seen it (which of course is ludicrous if one wants to force logic on dreams where none exists).

      She and our children walk through the front door. “Everything is wet,” I say loudly. “Not everything?” Zsuzsanna asks hopefully. “Everything,” I confirm. I wake at this point, with Zsuzsanna standing near our bed in reality and our youngest daughter nearby. I am somewhat confused as to whether our oldest daughter is in the area since she had been in my dream, though I do not see her.

      This dream is partly a beautiful connection to a fully lucid childhood dream, “The Staged Bull” from 1971 (as well as several other dreams). Both dreams use curtains as the division between the dream self and the conscious self and the perceived danger of RAS (as the waking alert factor), familiar autosymbolism for the waking transition. In this dream, my subliminal focus on reinduction brings a tidal wave (also a circadian rhythms factor) rather than the usual passive connection to water rising at the beginning of most sleeps. (This is also an association with the indoor rain we had in real life after our roof was torn off, though in reality, our dream journals did not get wet.) The typical doorway waking symbolism is utilized by RAS here, with no recall that Zsuzsanna had never been to America, let alone Cubitis (and as I have written before, I believe this is to prevent dream memories from being mistaken as having real-life meaning other than when prescient). My father wanders off to a bedroom (dream state indicator) and my control of the curtains seems like an amazing breakthrough in adding one more thread of dream knowledge in validating the autosymbolic meaning they entail. (Both autosymbolism for liminal space division and an association with control of the dream state as an implied stage, which also has curtains, yet also has the association with stage of sleep.) In previous dreams, I had chosen to “freeze” tidal waves and nuclear explosions in order to sustain the dream state and make it last for ten to fifteen additional minutes.

    4. Ant Snacks and Continuous Setting Changes

      by , 08-18-2016 at 08:52 AM
      Morning of August 18, 2016. Thursday.

      In the first part of one scene, I am at our present home and near our front door. It seems we have at least one (unknown) female visitor but she is talking with my wife Zsuzsanna in the dining room (which we use as the main bedroom). For some reason, our front door is open and I am looking outside while standing in the doorway. It seems to be early afternoon.

      I am eating some delicious snacks of a strong bittersweet flavor, eating at least a dozen of them without paying much attention to their appearance. They go down my throat, each being swallowed whole. Finally, upon looking at them, I notice that they are like miniature shish kebabs, though the implied stick is also edible and sweet. On the end of each is a large and shiny red carpenter ant head with black mandibles. This gives me pause even though I had been enjoying these snacks (and I briefly vaguely wonder if eating their heads as such could be dangerous). I realize that the ant head goes down first, and I had been properly consuming them as such, but now, as I think about it more clearly, I am not so sure I will continue to eat them, at least for now.

      In another sequence, I am looking over at (old neighbor in Cubitis) Harold’s orange grove area (even though the house I am observing this from seems to be a minor variation of our present home). It seems to be late morning. The weeds are very high, nearly at chest level. I feel slightly guilty for not having mowed the area (which has no orange trees in this scene) yet do not even consider that his area is not my responsibility anyway. Soon however, two of his workers come over and start cleaning the area. They are dressed like sheiks (even though I sense one is East Indian and had worked as a cab driver recently). I still feel slightly guilty at their difficulty in trimming the plants. However, it soon is seen that what I first thought were weeds are two beautiful trapezoidal sections of tall flowering plants, forming two somewhat large hedge-like features. It now seems to be an amazing regrowth of what was intended years ago to be as beautiful as it is now. Still, the unknown male continues to work at it, cutting small sections at the bottom. He brings his gardening shears near the top but the areas near the blossoms are impossible to cut for whatever reason - in fact, it almost breaks his shears. He stops and studies the tops of the plants. He then informs Harold’s wife (who instead appears as Diane K for an unknown reason) and tells her that the plants are producing fruit, which seem very valuable. This does not seem to matter as Diane tells him that everything must be cut down as that is what Harold had said, though she seems upset about it and refers to him as a “posturing curmudgeon”. I feel very annoyed that the fruit will be wasted as well as soon missing out on the beauty of the red and white prolific flowers.

      Eventually, the setting changes very illogically. I am still seemingly at our present address, but the roof seems to be missing and the orientation still partly reflects Cubitis. Looking to the north, I see what resembles the Rose Street building. It seems to be nighttime though still somehow light enough to see at a distance. On the roof is “Diane” (still apparently playing the role of Harold’s wife) though she now seems to be Karen’s mother instead. I wonder if she sees me and recognizes me. She does not wave or make any indication as such. My two youngest sons are in the house, more to the north. The house seems to be open to outside on that end. I am still aware of her annoyance at Harold having the plants cut down, but when I look out, I notice two smaller beautiful hedge-like areas and it now seems daytime again.

      Turning about, the setting shifts yet again and it is now late at night again. I now “understand” even after having gazed at the shorter hedge-like flower sections in his yard, there are now only two mats in that spot (which somehow now is a much smaller area) with shorter grass growing in parts in a somewhat random pattern. I also see light-colored sand in random patches, mostly on the mats, which is also somehow the remains of flowers. This is in the area of the kitchen on his side as apparently we share the residence. I view the scene from our (my family’s) side of the kitchen. I do not question the plants having been growing out of the wooden floor and also growing from the mats. The kitchen is fully enclosed and no part of the house is fully open to outside as it was minutes ago.

      Soon, I need to use the bathroom and it is late afternoon again. I go into a (fictional) room (which would be implied to be between our two son’s rooms in layout) where it looks as if the toilet had somehow been slid across the floor and turned perpendicularly to where it had been. There is a decorated Christmas tree to its left and the room looks more like a lounge room overall. Looking down, I see there is hardly any water in the bowl and there is also a transparent plastic wrapper in it. I decide to use the “other” toilet.

      The other toilet is in our actual lounge room and faces east though is in a corner (northwest) that is implied to be our bathroom. At first, it seems fine (and it also is now a few hours earlier than it was moments ago), though I eventually realize the curtains are open on two sides and I hear the rest of my family returning home from their outing. I am annoyed (in realizing how open the “bathroom” is) but get up to close the two curtain sections. Still, I then see there is nothing there at all, the area being completely open on two sides with no curtains after all (implied entry point and the right side) and the time shifts to where it is even earlier (close to morning), so I decide to wake up and use our real bathroom (though it is not that common for a dream to be based on needing to get up and use the bathroom), which I immediately recall is not problematic as the ones in my dream had been.

      It is curious how many bizarre scene shifts and impossible time shifts there were and I did not question any of them, especially the house not having a roof and being completely open on one side or time jumping backwards a couple times, though both aspects are quite common in dreams.
    5. One Sister, Two Spirits

      by , 08-15-2015 at 02:15 PM
      Morning of August 15, 2015. Saturday.

      Once again, I seem to be a teenager. (Note: I first absentmindedly wrote “teenanger” in my notes instead of “teenager”).

      In my dream, I am once again in Cubitis, though there is not much furniture in my room. I am much as I am now (mentally and emotionally), including having a computer desk (along the southeast corner and facing south in this case). I do not question this perhaps because I did experiments with electronics in the 1970s (building mostly useless novelties and haphazard hybrid decks) thanks to my father buying lots of junk at flea markets, including cassette players, speakers, amplifiers, and old radios on a weekly basis.

      I am not sure of the time (it could be either morning or evening, though I am often aware of the general time in the majority of my dreams). I eventually notice the sheer curtains to my right over the west wall (mostly made up of large jalousie windows) billowing out for a few minutes. Eventually, in my mind is the idea that my (deceased) older sister Marilyn will appear as a spirit. Something seems to “move” in my mind and she appears as she did in perhaps 1978, but remains behind the nearly transparent curtains for a time as if the movement of the curtains in the slight breeze had something to do with forming her or her essence. It is very vivid. She comes out from behind the curtains and I talk with her for a short time and even touch her shoulder and she seems happy. (“Curtains” is a possible reference to having died in this case.)

      Eventually, she walks out of my room into the living room. From here, though, the setting seems to be the southeast area of the living room on Loomis Street. My brother-in-law (her husband) is sitting on the right side of their couch near the window. An unknown female in her late forties is standing near him (who may be a nurse or friend) to his right (though she is facing west to my implied room in Cubitis and he is facing north towards the room I stayed in when first moving there from Florida).

      My sister turns to the left and walks away, seemingly towards a fictional hallway. Another version of my sister is, at this point, talking to her husband. She looks mostly the same as the other supposed spirit.

      I get an impression that the spirits of deceased people somehow divide into different versions of themselves to visit or comfort particular individuals at or around the same time. This seems “wrong” somehow, but I cannot quite resolve it. My dream eventually fades as I watch my “other” sister standing and talking with her husband.

      This is certainly not the first time I have dreamt of more than one copy of the same person. It happens regarding my wife Zsuzsanna, and she sometimes dreams of more than one of me as well. I also once had a dream of two different versions of my father (May 1975) when he was still alive. Pets sometimes duplicate as well. This dream seems to be different, though, as I am far more aware of the implications than usual. It possibly translates to how people project themselves differently to different people. Note that I have five half-sisters total (and six half-brothers), but grew up mostly on my own, as they were all older.

      Updated 09-25-2015 at 07:11 PM by 1390