Blue_Opossum

Morning of November 1, 2015. Sunday.



I am not sure of the setting of this dream. There is a vague association with Barolin Street, though quite distorted. There is also a park in this dream which is similar to the unfamiliar one of another recent dream (and with a similar theme of imposition by a stranger), though the setting is very distorted; not possible to discern a separation of being indoors or outdoors.

Firstly, I am ready to do some writing at a table (I mostly use a desk in reality), possibly relating to my dream journal. I go into my large room and see my second-youngest son playing with another (unfamiliar) boy. There is part of a toy racing track under my table which is of a solid two-lane form. There is an additional section near my chair. Somehow, I fall upon it as I sit down (possibly on purpose to express how it is not where it should be) and then apologize though I do not think I broke it. I get the impression that I share the room but that the race track is wrongfully in my part of the room. The clarity and sense of touch is very vivid here.

From here, our big room is “actually” part of the outside area of an unfamiliar park (still with the sense of being inside and outside at the same time). Looking behind me, I see numerous unfamiliar people walking around (implied south of me). One male is pushing a small dirt bike. Another male is carrying a very small dirt bike across his shoulders. I talk to him about the different sizes and types (though I have zero interest in dirt bike racing in real life) including the miniature ones. I notice he is “also” carrying a boy on his shoulders, which makes the scene ambiguous and distorted - or maybe he was only carrying the boy. He seems irritated by my attitude that the “room” is mine even though I am amazed by the audacity of the others.

My son becomes annoyed by the imposing public (and the feeling they are “taking over”) and I realize he will be getting rid of his (fictional) large collection of embossed spider stickers, sheets of about five by eight, each showing a different species. This also makes me consider how expensive they were. I do not really want to see them discarded.

From here, I go into a distorted pretend fight. I stab one of the imposing dirt bike racing participants in the chest, but my knife is not real and simply folds back each time like paper. I do not feel angry at that point and not even all that confused by the fake knife. After this, I notice more dream characters, some with surreal or abstract faces. I pull out a revolver and shoot one of them, soon realizing it was a blank I fired and thus the dream character remains standing; cheerful, but too distracted by his telephone conversation to notice being shot at (the sound only being about a third of the volume of a real blank being fired). More and more random characters gather and my dream fades.

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What I can add now about this is that I had learned motorcycles sometimes relate to life energy (similar to horses and “horsepower”) or in some cases, the underlying energies of the conscious mind within the dream state. Other dreams about miniature motorcycles seem to imply less conscious awareness and control in the dream state even when the dream is otherwise vivid. However, there is still my “Motorcycle Jump” dream where the motorcycle itself was my conscious self in desiring to wake (after sleeping too long) by flying up through a small window. There may be a touch of that in this dream - a need to get on a dirt bike, take control, and “return” to my physical body to wake (especially considering how ambiguous the setting was - possibly a play on the state between waking and dreaming - the “room in the house”/mind and the “real outside”/external energies in this case - together as one presence).