Blue_Opossum

Morning of January 22, 2015. Thursday.



Of all the “experiments” I have done in my life to influence, enhance, or alter dream states, I have ultimately decided that simple thinking is the key. I have tried a particular focused form of thought enough to know it is the most powerful technique, especially when preceded by “thank you for…” (without even needing belief in a deity). Just listening to something does not seem to do much unless it is with my own special technique and even that has certain limitations in certain states. Needing to hear something seems to limit certain states (plus, I have experienced a vivid lucid state where external sound and its influence is non-existent), likely because a part of the mind is still “grounded” in a particular way. (Once again, I should mention the lucid dreaming fiasco of years ago where I entered the most vivid dream state possible with a shorter audio loop, though once in my dream, solely tried to find the source of the sound to turn it off - the very meaning of “irony”). So what do I do that works? Three-minute very subtle mental affirmation meditations (not spoken aloud, just actively thought) throughout the day and night (sometimes in closer clusters), watching the clock and using an addend of four but only ever counting them as three minutes in my personal journal. In this case, it added up to sixty minutes overall.

In my dream (and the ones which followed) I find myself in a full-body awareness that is no different from being awake other than the senses being enhanced and the depth perception intensified. This used to puzzle me - but I attribute it to being “closer” to one’s internal awareness in sleep. I have never had the slightest concern (as some people claim as possibility) about differentiating from the real world and a dream when awake - and in a vivid lucid dream, that concern is pointless anyway, so yet again, typical mainstream dream literature fails to impress me or even make any sense.

I find myself in a dream environment in a larger room that I cannot identify, though it is similar in familiarity to (but much larger than) the larger southernmost room in the Loomis Street house. I am sitting comfortably on an armchair facing east. As with another recent dream, the increased sensuality, almost to a point where I would otherwise think it impossible, seems the most “automatic” and natural of all dream states, almost as if all nuances of my dream are “instantly surrendering” to a core subliminal whim. In fact, all I do is lift my arms up a bit and my beautiful wife materializes in front of me (only her head at first) and she bends down to indulge in passionate kissing with me for quite some time. The sense of touch is probably double that of reality and I am also amazed by the solid nature of her form.

This is followed by making love on the floor, from the side and from behind, but holding ourselves up with our left arms, in some sort of otherwise physically impossible situation (well, at least for me). During the climax, I notice (as I have in several other dreams) that my wife has sparse reptilian scales around her hips and bordering the small of her back, which does not bother me. However, I soon take this into a forced scenario out of habit, relating to what I feel happens often in non-lucid dreams; that is, the dreamer forcing certain possible conflicts possibly regarding a need for increased “pulsing” energy as such for whatever reason (again, for example, maintaining the knowledge but vague memory that I was solely the one that instigated my own chase dreams even with dinosaurs following me, just to experience the event, although most people do not seem to remember the event horizon of when they planned this themselves, so thus you have people that believe in demons or similar entities - the case seemingly being that a particular section of memory was lost).

My dream is not “fooled” though and I am too vividly integrated with my dream’s environment to be absentmindedly a “victim”. When I try to force a negative association for a dramatic movie-like scene, I illogically in the past tense speak to my wife, saying, “You had scales!” but she just cheerfully lightly laughs and shakes her head and levitates a bit from the floor, “rolling about” in midair and lowering herself again. I ask her “Why did you have scales?” and then I feel idiotic since it was me that gave her the scales in the first place. I try to get her to appear more aggressive, but that fails and she becomes about ten years younger and we make love again, “rolling around” in midair, at times like mists with various tendrils but I also become aware of where I am in reality.

An odd false awakening occurs. I am in the computer room in Wavell Heights though the setup and room layout is different. My dream is almost as vivid as my previous but I am no longer lucid. There is a closed window near where the printer is. The printer seems more like an oversized typewriter. There are also what seem to be kitchen features in the room, including a faucet over the top of the printer (seemingly on the window sill as was strangely the case in our Clayfield apartment’s kitchen). I absentmindedly turn the faucet on (it is more to the right), realize that the printer is then filling up with water (almost in the manner of a sink) and then turn it off. The physical sensations of doing this are greatly enhanced and I briefly contemplate that real life is not this “close” in the sense of touch but do not become lucid again. Once again I catch myself having turned the faucet on in the semi-dark room. I again turn it off just as the water starts spilling over the top of the printer a bit. It then sits there still full, like a full sink, and I am contemplating when it could be used again. I then finally notice that the printer is plugged in, so I remove the cord from the printer itself, which is higher up on the front instead of the back area (this is likely because the back of my desk in reality is open to the path into the room as if it was the “front”). I then go to tell my wife about the event, planning on asking her to help with getting the water out of the printer by using cups, though this does not seem feasible. I do not think turning it upside-down would be a good idea, though.

There is another false awakening, this one more intense, but ending up as some sort of parody of people who preach about the end of the world. Having heard about the supposed approaching “end of the world” in virtually endless scenarios since I was very young, any emotional impact or credibility has dissolved. I am watching a set of four smaller televisions in a column in an extended part of a doorway. Each television has the same show but with slightly different timing (this is based on a real-life event of years ago, where I was changing channels and noticed the same religious show on two different channels but one about a minute ahead of the other and I played around, sometimes getting unintentionally funny phrases with each switch over).

There is a chubby preacher ranting before a live audience, loudly asking “What if the world ends tomorrow?” and he keeps repeating this for a short time with a terrified look on his face. I notice red flashing lights and other people crying out including a few from the choir on the stage. It almost seems possible that the world could end tomorrow but I do not feel afraid. However, he then shouts “What if the world ends the day after tomorrow?” with an even more terrified visage. This does not seem to make much sense as that would be one day later and less to worry about for a short time. However, he keeps going on like this, with his emotional anticipation illogically inverted, going into more and more preposterous and loud unrestrained queries such as “What if the world ends the day after the day after the day after three weeks from tomorrow?” seeming more and more alarmed each time, the longer the potential “doomsday” is from then - completely senseless. The audience keeps gasping and crying out to everything he says. I stand there in disbelief until my dream fades with a strong and clear attitude that it does not even matter if and when the world ends - why keep theorizing as such? This last false awakening seems vaguely influenced by the last scenes from “The Blob” (1988 version) - seen the evening before - where the traumatized preacher is shown as having the power to “end the world” from a piece of the life-form he has in a container.

Morning of February 9, 1979. Friday.



This is a recurring dream event of getting off a bus (likely a metaphor for a shift in consciousness). Here, I am with my “mystery girl” (wife Zsuzsanna prior to knowing she was a real person) who is vaguely associated with being a Mouseketeer, though I am not sure of our destination (possibly a television studio?). Though I am living in Wisconsin in reality, my dream’s location may be near Disney World in Florida. As we get off the bus, my mystery girl (I am not certain if it was absentmindedly or on purpose for some reason) drops a snow globe so that it hits the sidewalk near the curb and cracks open.

At the same time, the entire universe is destroyed with a brief soft cracking sound; the fabric of space “cracks” and the stars seemingly float in a liquid (in a similar way as fake “snowflakes” float in the liquid in a snow globe). Oddly, it does not seem that threatening even though it is “the end”.

On another level of course, this dream merely represents the waking mechanism - the “destruction” of my dream.

The snowflake (which also represents the Star of David and as such, also a two-dimensional view of the Merkaba) relates directly to my wife Zsuzsanna (and was also precognitive of the “I am fragile, I am avalanche” B.C. strip becoming one of my favorites), but seems to be shown here as a chaotic “flurry of stars”, linking the concept of a blizzard with stars randomly “falling” and moving, something I had not (prior to this) made any connection to before regardless of the obvious imagery. (However, when I was five years of age, I did made a cutout picture of a winter scene which actually confused snowflakes with stars.)

Additionally, I get the impression that a crack, which otherwise expresses fragility, also looks like a lightning bolt, implying the opposite (as well as representing the potential to grow severed nerves and tendons back again as I did from July 1962 on). This in turn is likely an association with my accident as a toddler, which caused my brain to be “rewired” through the retraining of my “dead” hand, allowing the usage of parts of the mind that people otherwise would never know about.

Update Monday, 28 December 2015. I should probably include a couple more details relating to how I know this dream was precognitive. Not only did it include my lifelong “mystery girl” (of consistent appearance and of Zsuzsanna’s unlikely mixed heritage), there is the connection to the snow globe and the song “Suzi Snowflake” (“Suzi” is the anglicized shortened form of my wife’s first name). Additionally, my brother Earl recorded “Hey Hey Hey Snowflake” directly after his marriage.

Morning of February 7, 1976. Saturday.



This was in the second month of the upcoming bicentennial in July, but I am not sure if that had anything to do with any potential associations.

There is some sort of unsettling back story in my dream’s origin. It has to do with the end of the world. The “end of the world” is apparently to start when three jets flying over, I assume of the US Air Force, in the form of a “V” (one flying ahead of two others that are somewhat side by side), will indicate that the world only has a few hours or so left (though this may be relative to people only living in the United States). In fact, there is an idea that, even though other jets may be flying over the region, these specifically will make a sound like “doom doom doom”.

Over time, there is not much concern. But eventually, I hear the “woom, woom woom” sound that is supposedly the sign of the three jets approaching and flying over. However, this turns out to be, in reality, as the sound wakes me, a large truck going north down Highway Seventeen - it actually did seem a bit like three loud “wooms” or “dooms” but not really with an additional jet-like sound. This is somewhat odd and seems like in-dream precognition of some sort relating to similar experiences where the dream builds seemingly intentionally to a sound not yet heard or expected. This was in fact the only time I perceived a passing semi in this way. I am also not usually awakened by traffic sounds, even the occasional louder vehicle. (I even missed hearing the train at times during the night other than when it had the blaring horn.)

Night of November 5, 1965 to morning of November 6, 1965. Friday night to Saturday morning.



Summary: I dreamt a television-influenced scenario in real time, with the same soundtrack but mostly different imagery.

After extensive research, I have been able to pinpoint more data on one of the most vivid (but previously less documented) dreams of the later half of 1965. I have written about it several times in the past, but will detail as much as possible here. Curiously, it turns out to be yet another “unexplained” November 6th event (of which there is at least one for every year of my life) with heightened awareness and personal links as well as a deep nostalgia relating to certain dream states.

This was mostly a lucid dream (in that I knew I was dreaming and it was almost as vivid as real life) but I did not take control at any point. Also interesting was that my dream (the on-the-couch version) seemed to last more than a day. This is even in relation to the hour-long soundtrack of the show seeming extended over that long.

My dream occurred over about an hour, with several false awakenings as well as actual partial awakenings, but then it went into a “reset” (when I actually went to my own bed across the hall) and some of it repeated the next morning with other mixed dreams. It was basically caused by falling asleep at the beginning of the “Don’t Open Till Doomsday” episode of “The Outer Limits” television series. Although I was already seriously into dream work at this time (age four, almost five), this dream alone enhanced my interest greatly. I begin to watch the show in my sister’s Rose Street apartment, sitting on the couch on my own, but I was already quite tired, starting to have heavy eyes at the line “There is nothing wrong with your television set”, firstly falling asleep during this time.

Much of my dream occurred as I was lying on my right side on the couch but otherwise facing the television. The show was in black-and-white, but my dream was in vivid color. As with many other dreams, they remained far more detailed, memorable, and clear than the actual shows they were “scripted” by in real life (and with “better special effects” and more “realistic” in general). During the days without YouTube, Internet, and so on, it sometimes took a few years to confirm how details distorted relative to the original “script”.

One of the things that struck me in-dream was the eye that seemed to float in blackness but which was actually someone looking into the box at the miniature alien-monster from his side. This was probably one of the most internally influential images of the time. In reality, the actual creature looked (to me at the time) like a pile of dog poo with one eye stuck on. I noted this especially as I was, in liminal floating, trying to work out what was a dream and what was really on the television screen.

Also in my dream there was far more drama and action than the show that was actually on at the time, though the sound track was primarily the same (but again, seemingly over a much longer time period). In my dream, the monster was actually gigantic (instead of a miniature in a box) and was also green and orange and somewhat octopus-like (but with a mostly hairless gorilla-like head). At one point, I watch the giant creature (while seemingly disembodied) move through a large city, “walking” from left to right, its tentacles moving about, sometimes destroying buildings. In this case, there is also a scene where the eye appears in the sky as if in reference to the moon or another planet.

Near the end of my dream, there is a scene where a man is trying to hide from this giant creature that is hunting him (not at all anything like the show’s actual plot) and the creature “unknowingly” destroys a skyscraper the man is in. As the building collapses, the man free-falls outside the collapsing outer wall and even though it is a fall from around the twentieth floor, he survives with no injuries. After a typical in-dream “reset” I become the character in a similar replay.

Curiously, my relevant most coherent awakening occurred at the exact moment the hand-printed note was shown at the end of the episode (which read “Don’t Open Till Doomsday”) though I was still a bit groggy. From there I went to my own bed even though I had a few false awakenings where it seemed I had already. The line “If I cannot annihilate the world, I must uncreate myself…”, even though heard in my sleep at age four, was still clearly in my mind in my later teenage years, proof of strong influence in liminal states.

Morning of April 26, 1972. Wednesday.



I am walking in a large field, apparently in an area in or near Arcadia, traveling north with Steve J, Tina L, Kenneth H, and a few others. The sun is to the east at about fifty degrees altitude and it seems to be about noon or earlier. There is one area we pass that seems to be a cornfield. I do not see any buildings at this point. Much of the landscape is featureless.

After a short time, part of the sun “explodes” into sparks of about three different small sizes that almost immediately seem to be in Earth’s atmosphere as if the sun was just a large burning feature hovering in the sky not that far away. I hear a sizzling and notice a few small grass fires farther to the east.

We all start to run, but I go in a different direction more to the northwest (while the others mostly run north). I eventually hide in an unfamiliar old barn which is fairly dark. I decide to squat near a wooden half-wall of a stall. I eventually start to hear what sounds like older ladies talking. There soon seems to be a series of rude critical comments and gossip about other ladies who are likely not present, such as a particular hat being out of fashion, though there are nice comments about necklaces made of daisies and the merits of wearing the “right” cowbell and so on. This seems very strange and the supposed catastrophe eventually seems almost like a false memory within my dream - or at least something not to worry about.

The “ladies” that are talking (none of them notice me at any point and I do not directly see any of them) turn out to be cows and horses idly chatting in the barn. Oddly, this does not trigger lucidity and I mostly sit and listen to their gossip as my dream fades.

In a very similar dream or “reset” during the same morning, this time, right after I start running northwest, I seemingly become disembodied while taking to the air and then hover closely over an image of a small seemingly prehistoric lizard (it actually seemed to be a sort of olive-colored Florida chameleon) “frozen” in rock almost like some sort of powerful mystical fossil. It is me. It is apparently who and what I had always been - though maybe I am now in transition. I “realize” this as I wake. It almost seems hypnopompic.

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The lizard scene is a waking precursor as a sunrise metaphor. I am coming out of my being “embedded” in the fossil, analogous to waking, and the lizard represents the circadian rhythms symbol as such because lizards come out to sun themselves on rocks. The chameleon association relates to the dream self “changing” into the whole conscious self.