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    1. Eating a Tornado in Arcadia

      by , 08-06-2017 at 02:06 PM
      Morning of August 6, 2017. Sunday.



      I am wandering about in Arcadia, looking for someone or something. I am in a state of instinctual dream control, without lucidity.

      I am certain that I am looking at a rendering of a real location in Arcadia, as if I was assuming to be looking at a full scale model. It is the south area of Tinsley’s IGA as it was in the early 1970s. Even though I am certain that what I am looking at is “perfect”, there is a line of post office boxes extending out through the parking lot from the building. This post office wall is missing the post office box doors so as one can look directly through the structure. It does not seem wrong to me at all despite the odd distortion.

      My mind wanders to thoughts of former schoolmates and neighbors, but there is not much cohesiveness.

      Looking through a restaurant window, I notice a female of about thirty sitting at a round table. I am certain this is my former neighbor. Also present is an unfamiliar male and young boy who I think might be her husband and son. She notices me and comes out to the front of the restaurant. When I talk to her, she says she does not know me. She says, “My name is Angel”. I start to consider that she had changed her name so as never to be associated with me later on in life, which does not really bother me (even though I do not yet have any viable current conscious self memory).

      An unknown young male is soon present and says, “Your obsessions with each other in youth no longer have any purpose.”

      Somewhat annoyed by this imposing stranger, I vertically twirl my middle finger. Over time, a white tornado descends into the parking lot, coming down directly upon me, but posing no threat. (I watch it form from the beginning, as clouds begin to slowly spiral in the sky above.) Other people are tossed out of its path and yet I find it amusing that others might think it could pose a threat and I consider they are jumping out of the way on purpose without realizing what it really is. I then allow the tip of the tornado to enter my mouth.

      “Don’t eat that,” advises someone a few minutes later. The tornado remains white and fluffy. I continue to remain in the area, not remotely impressed by the essence of the tornado, realizing that I create the patterns of weather. (Again, no lucidity is present - only subliminal threads of knowing I am the creator of it, yet not realizing or remembering what a dream is.)

      I eat a lot of the tornado as its form continues downward, and it has a mix of bread and mild chocolate flavor. Again, someone else says that I should not be eating the tornado. I notice that some of what I had been eating is more like a cottony rope and I spit some of it out. I decide that I may not eat any more even though I was going to just to annoy any strangers who thought I should not.

      Alec Baldwin, the actor, probably about forty, comes along and looks down cheerfully at the remains of the tornado. “I’ll eat that,” he happily says. I embrace my wife Zsuzsanna and we walk off together, though I still do not catch on that I am in the dream state even after eating most of a tornado.


      Updated 09-08-2019 at 09:40 AM by 1390

      Categories
      non-lucid
    2. Stone Grape Vampire that I am

      by , 08-04-2017 at 12:18 PM
      Morning of August 4, 2017. Friday.



      In my dream, I am apparently living in the middle apartment of the east side of the second floor of the King Street boarding house, an impressive mansion that was part of a tour, but not that great on the inside.

      Still, it seems that an unfamiliar male has taken residence in this apartment. I am not fully sure of what the situation is, though I do know that I am a vampire. That is, I am a pretend vampire for a time, and I am using some sort of technology to exist as such. The technology is apparently unseen by the “real” world I live in. (It is of a lifelong recurring theme of using invisible technology that exists in another dimension to bring about whatever is to occur in my dream, though which I usually incorrectly see as being my real world.)

      I show this male and a couple of his visitors how I have fangs and how I can levitate. There is an unknown male with me, though I eventually assume that he is my friend Eddie. We both seem to be about twenty-five years old. Eddie cannot seem to decide if he looks the most like Christian Slater or Stephen Geoffreys and consequently acts like both in an overacting vampire pretense. He seems amused by our act but eventually does not say much other than agree with my own pretense, which is more serious. We are wearing cloaks and are ready to fly through the night sky of La Crosse.

      Time seems to have passed and I am now seemingly on my own, flying in an unknown region, seemingly late at night.

      I see the preconscious below, walking along with an unknown friend, an unfamiliar male of about the same age. I decide to fly down and see what is going on.

      The preconscious, an unknown male of perhaps thirty or more, seems happy to see me, but he tells me that my flight did not look as if I had been flying regularly. I do not get angry, as I know it is an illusion anyway, though which he does not perceive as such. His friend wants to see my fangs, and I will them to grow out.

      He has a gift for me. It is supposedly my favorite food; a bunch of “stone grapes”, from a supposedly very rare plant, which looks like a normal bunch of grapes other than being thorny and more woody and having no discernible grapes on it, only small seed-like features that are very crunchy. I put it up to my mouth and eat the entire bunch, feeling my teeth gnaw through it, but I do not taste anything other than a slight tree-bark flavor. I know that no human being could eat this, but it is apparently a very thoughtful gift and I thank him. Still, I know that this hidden technology of mine (which is phased within another dimension, only operable by me) only makes it look like it has gone past my teeth and into the back of my mouth to swallow. He does not realize this. He does not know that it phases out of existence once it goes past my teeth. There is no way I could have actually eaten anything like this anyway, but I do not want him to be disappointed or disrupt his faith regarding his belief in vampires, or cease to trust me in my vampire guise.

      He kisses me lightly on the right temple, in affirmation of a long-term friendship, and I wonder if I am just a creature to show off to a friend of his every now and then, perhaps once or twice every several years. Apparently, being friends with a vampire like me has given him a status of bravery and strength, but I consider if I am seen as just a “pet” to brag about knowing. Still, I hold no anger.


      Categories
      non-lucid
    3. Science Fiction Novels and a Visit from the Jordanaires

      by , 09-13-2016 at 03:13 PM
      Morning of September 13, 2016. Tuesday.



      This dream was extremely long (as is often the case with me), shifting and sifting in and out of different levels of consciousness (only partial semi-lucidity in one segment), and which contained too many scenes to feasibly document (let alone provide the meaning for), but I will include some of the clearer events.

      The main event relates to my wife Zsuzsanna and I living in the northeast apartment in the King Street boarding house. Of course, the room has to be rendered much bigger than in reality in order for everyone to fit. Not only that, the room is easterly duplicated at least two more times (which, as usual, I pay no notice to).

      The Jordanaires are visiting us. However, these “Jordanaires” (by which I probably confused with The Andrews Sisters, though there were only three in that group) are actually four dark-haired Caucasian girls sitting at a rectangular table with Zsuzsanna. My sister Carol (August 4, 1943-December 10, 2009; half-sister on my mother’s side) is also present, appearing as she did in the 1980s. For a time, the four girls sing Elvis Presley’s song “Teddy Bear”. Even though it sounds very harmonious and in perfect unison, I eventually tell them to shut up or leave (though I guess I really do not feel that imposed upon). (In a way, this could possibly be considered as a secondary dream sign due to the fact that children sometimes sleep with teddy bears.)

      “I don’t really like that hooga hooga music,” I explain to Carol (describing the blend of gospel and rockabilly as “hooga hooga” in mocking Elvis’s singing style in songs like “Teddy Bear” and “Don’t Be Cruel”). I then tell her that it is okay to listen to at times and that I sometimes enjoy his music, but I do not feel like listening to it right now.

      There was another long segment prior to this one which involved looking at a hexadecimal dump of a series of science fiction novels. At one point (as a normal display) I see a listing of three columns with two to three titles listed in each column. The first two columns have asterisks at the beginning of each title which means that they can be read for free. The third column has a price listing at the top which I think is $29.95 for each. I am aware that the writer is a young female. I do not recall the titles as I do not really focus on them that much. I look at the hexadecimal dump and see that there is executable code at the beginning in addition to each story. Although the formatting is not directly executable there are indeed subroutines in the code. I see the string “this story is not available for reading in Australia”. Very curiously, this does not trigger any present real-life status memory and I still perceive that we are living on King Street. Still, I consider reversing the logic of the sequence (“jump if” to “jump if not”) to display the message in America (to then prevent access) and to allow it to unlock in Australia just to be funny. As I am reflecting upon this with a cheerful nostalgia, I look at the rest of the formatting of the story but do not actually read it. I do notice that the margin code seems to be unrealistically wide but I do not puzzle over it that much.

      I hear Zsuzsanna ask our youngest son “Did you burn your hand?” and I expect that he did and I am concerned. I actually wake up while asking her if she had said this (and she had not but had been talking to him), but only briefly and I immediately fall asleep again.

      In another scene, I go into one of the duplicated rooms and notice that there are small paper sacks everywhere, some on tables and many more on the floor. At the bottom of each sack is a jelly roll, but most of boysenberry or blueberry filling. I take one out and find it delicious. (In the back of my mind, I even recall the oral sex symbolism without becoming lucid.)

      In another scene, I have the apartment door open. My (King Street) landlady comes up the steps and holds her hand out as if in expectation for me to give her the money I owe her. I tell her that I will pay her later and she looks annoyed and walks off to Leonard’s apartment. Meanwhile, I had been ready to hand her a green tambourine, except that I soon notice that the membrane is split along one side and coming off around the edge. I throw it onto a huge pile of various toys and junk that comes up almost to my waist. It looks like we have some cleaning to do as the pile fills about half of our apartment.

      Near the last part, I pick up large oblong pieces of dust from under a table, with my bare hand, which contains hairs and at least one dead grasshopper (a rather odd return flight waking transition, more specifically “failed flight”, with the loose hairs symbolizing the end of the dream state and the fictional “head” of the dream self).


    4. Strange Infection (warning: gore)

      by , 05-22-2015 at 11:22 AM
      Morning of May 22, 2015. Friday.



      There are a number of (seemingly) random facets to this dream. The first event relates to hearing about a comet on a collision course with Earth (the name of the comet not being known or mentioned) and to strike somewhere in New England (America); either Maine or Vermont. I heard the name of the city as well at one point, but do not recall it - or there could have been a “reset” to explain the Maine and Vermont confusion as I seem to recall both conflicting elements. The unusual detail is that it will supposedly not cause that much widespread destruction even though it is indeed an entire comet that had apparently passed by the Earth before. I am not that concerned as I am on the other side of the planet anyway. However, my (deceased) sister Marilyn is also an in-dream character, and she has never been outside the United States. I do seem to be living amidst some of my present real-life features and circumstances, though the setting is ambiguous.

      The next part of my dream seems set in possibly our Stadcor Street home in Brisbane (though it does have a few elements reminiscent of our present house’s kitchen). It involves an unknown family cooking an elephant bird (extinct birds from Madagascar - formally known as Aepyornithidae) as some sort of taste test or trial. It is not fully known of how ordinary citizens in a family got the body of an elephant bird, though there is a mention of someone having cloned one. There are only two smaller cooked pieces on the plate (which resemble distorted parts of normal-sized chicken legs with about half the skin removed - which unrealistically represents a part of the otherwise huge bird), but oddly, my dream “resets” twice - where I eat the two pieces as three different people in a sequence; a black female of about thirty, one of her sons of about thirteen (who I believe cooked the meal), and as myself as I am now. I do not question this strange transition and impossible series of events of the changing in-body perspectives - it is like spiritually “jumping” from body to body for a very short time to experience the essence of how the person is moving and what they are tasting. The female gets annoyed by a single small red ant crawling on the edge of the plate at one point and says loudly to “get that animal out of the house” and it seems to foretell failed cooking endeavors in the future until it is removed. This part is a bit unusual in that the two pieces of meat are “still” on the plate as if they had not already been eaten three times over in the few “resets”.

      After this is another somewhat confusing event involving my sister (appearing as she was in about 1980) chiding me (but without that much emotion) relating to having broken a CD case holder, which is somewhat drawer-like (so that it would fit in a larger cabinet in the kitchen). There is a part near the front on one side that is broken off, which is a cylindrical piece of plastic, which makes it difficult to keep the cases uniform. I explain how it had happened due to it being difficult to get the case back in, being slightly wider than what the holder seemed designed for. As I look around, I notice a couple dish racks which look very similar to the CD case holders (and almost the same size - but for smaller plates) and notice that there had been a breakage in the same area along the top runner of the “drawer” in at least two of the racks. I then say how I am not the one who had broken the other items, reflecting that my sister had probably done it, making the act of me having broken the other item seem less eventful and me less deficient. There are about a dozen holders for either CDs or small plates in the kitchen, all on the same side of the room. At this point, I am also still aware of the comet approaching the other side of the planet (but again, supposedly not to be a catastrophe even though I am somewhat wary of the idea).

      Finally, I notice that I have an open cut near the middle of my right middle finger, which seems infected. Green jelly is showing, which somehow seems to be coagulated blood. I start to reflect on the idea, as I pull out what seems like an entire “vein” that resembles a green-apple strand of toothpaste but more viscous, that I probably should have gone to the doctor and gotten antibiotics before it progressed this far. Still, I am somewhat relieved that I am able to pull out most of this green “vein” (all the way down to my wrist) before it infects more of my body, but as I do, I am aware that it will make my hand somewhat hollow and eventually useless. There is one area above the knuckle that seems more problematic and “lumpy” as a result of the infection and needs to all come out. In fact, as I mention it to my sister, my hand is already weakened and “hollow” near the wrist where it will probably just flop around unable to be used to pick things up. Most of the muscle seems to somehow be gone shortly after my act of pulling out the green “Gummy Worm”, even though it was only the one strand that I pulled out.

      Updated 09-26-2015 at 01:54 PM by 1390

      Categories
      Uncategorized
    5. Run from the Twister

      by , 11-19-1971 at 05:19 PM
      Night of November 19, 1971. Friday.

      Dream #: 1,796-02. Reading time: 1 min 40 sec.



      While in the Cubitis house’s living room, I hear on my mother’s radio (her pale green one that was sometimes atop our refrigerator) about a twister approaching from the west. I am concerned that Brenda does not know about it. I plan to go to her house to get her so that we can escape from it. (I do not see or consult my parents even though I am only ten years old, though this was typical in my childhood dreams.)

      As with the majority of my dreams, features are incorrect without my dream self’s realization that they are. In this case, Brenda’s house is incorrectly east of my house (where the cow pasture is in real life) rather than north of it. Also, Arcadia is east of my home rather than south.

      As the tornado is approaching, I go into Brenda’s house without knocking and say hello to her. (Neither her parents nor brothers are present.) We are suddenly in her kitchen. She looks annoyed with me and moves around a table to avoid me. I convince her of the danger, and she happily comes with me. We manage to avoid the tornado. It is seemingly a result of running in specific directions and being in particular places for a time, even though we seem to backtrack at times.

      In the last scene, we are sitting at a big water fountain in an unknown city that seems to be a newly built resort. (The twister had supposedly destroyed it, but it was somehow quickly rebuilt while we were traveling. The tornado was there before us even though we were running from the opposite direction).

      We eat sandwiches that had been in transparent sandwich bags (that it seems we were carrying even though this backstory did not have a foundation) and smile happily in the knowledge the worst is over. I have a vague sense we may be near Disney World. (It would be in a different location in reality as it seems we are not that far east of my house.)



      My dream coincided with the opening of Disney’s Fort Wilderness Resort and Campground in Orlando, Florida. I might have heard about it, so I am uncertain if it was a precognitive factor.



      The fountain and surrounding area now make me think of one of the first public places I went with my wife Zsuzsanna in Brisbane in 1994. It was like in my dream and with the same cheerful essence when I was with Zsuzsanna.