Blue_Opossum

Early evening of June 23, 2018. Saturday.



I am looking at a desert scene of which is virtually identical to the image with this entry. I sense industrial activity going on behind me, likely in a factory, though I do not turn around to verify this.

An unknown male voice calls out, “Just the back feet are shut down”. I consider what this may mean. It puzzles me when I see it as regarding human anatomy. I then consider it means “feet” as a unit of measurement even though there is no numerical value.

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As dreams, regarding their autosymbolic nature, are mainly related to the nature of the dream state and waking process rather than real life (unless prescient or literal), “back feet” is a typical distortion regarding how I was briefly and lightly sleeping on my back. I rarely sleep on my back in my normal sleep cycle. The fact that the back of my feet was the only part of my feet that was in contact with the mattress is likely the reason for this dream, though it may also have an analogy to an animal’s back feet as an indication that parts of my mind are still active in sleep. Additionally, a desert is a biological factor that usually indicates a need to drink more fluids.

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Afternoon of May 22, 2018. Tuesday.



I am hovering above a scene of Ursula (from the “Little Mermaid” movie, though she appears as a “real” person instead of a cartoon). She seems to have been enslaved to work in a factory (on land and owned by humans), which looks like it involves capping bottles in a circular system of levers and a rotating mechanism she is strapped within (as she rotates horizontally as well). Even though she seems to be at the mercy of whoever runs the factory, she laughs weirdly, “Huh huh HA ha…,” and seems cheerful, and continues to work.

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This short surreal dream was influenced by seeing a “robot fail” video with a robot hand failing at its task of picking up bottles. An additional influence was from the typical water induction (though no water body occurs here) as a fictitious sea denizen as an octopus woman, which also has an association with our youngest daughter’s sticker books and coloring books as such.

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Morning of February 8, 2015. Sunday.



My dream starts out in the factory I worked at when much younger, which made Ford Taurus parts. The foreman (and friend) who shot himself is alive again in my dream (as with another recent dream though he is normally a very rare dream character, especially over the last twenty years). I do not see him at first though. There is a factory loft which is like a mini-warehouse which is actually more like the loft at a different job when I worked for the college in maintenance at a large automotive-related classroom.

In my dream there is another foreman (though one level down from the main one whom is not yet present) who seems worried about something. I am apparently going to help him move some larger cardboard boxes in the loft. He does not go up to where I am. One longer box falls to the side (though not to the first floor below - it stops at the guardrail), but nothing breaks, apparently. It soon turns out that no one is supposed to be in the loft or touching any of the cardboard boxes at the time, except perhaps for the higher-up foreman. The penalty is immediate death by a foreman or supervisor.

The lower-level foreman tells me to hurry and leave the premises but then he follows me for a time to help me in my escape to the east as the other foreman has just arrived - and even though he seems somewhat cheerful, we are, in a way, apparently expecting the threat of soon being shot at or killed. We manage to run and keep ahead of the other foreman (though more of a supervisor), though I am not entirely sure of what would have happened had I stayed. After we run around a few unpainted concrete block wall corners after leaving the factory grounds, an unknown Filipino girl joins us. It is possible that she had been in the factory loft at one point or maybe is just a secretary trying to catch up with me in an enquiry relative to my next paycheck.

Even though we had been at Northern Engraving in Wisconsin, we are suddenly running south down Highway Seventeen in Florida (on the east side of it), although the area is more south than where I lived and somewhat unfamiliar. The male jumps on a harvester quite quickly and starts driving it, as we all go about the same speed, continuing southeast. We start to chant “invisible, invisible” (intending to become invisible) - an event borrowed from a childhood dream where I did the same thing (although also sunk into the ground to evade my pursuers). At this point, I actually feel a bit playful and am wondering how far behind our pursuer is. It seems he may have been joined by others.

We have to be more careful now. Apparently, word has been sent out and a group of hillbillies living farther south has been informed. This will not do because Randy Quaid (the actor) will likely be there with his rifle and may be able to stop us. We start running in and out of various small dilapidated hillbilly houses and through the various rooms as Van McCoy and The Soul City Symphony plays “The Hustle” (from 1975). For some reason, one unknown southern girl offers her house to run through. Room after room, I run, zigzagging where I need to, listening to “The Hustle”. The music follows me along cheerfully and playfully, overhead, as if from an undefined but omnipresent sound stage. After I run out through one back door of one small unrealistically-maze-like house I am aware of Randy Quaid (with the persona he had in “Paper Moon” from 1973) aiming his rifle at me from another backyard from near an external hot water tank. However, I am still running, heading east, leaving him far behind. I wonder if the two others had been captured…

Morning of February 5, 2015. Thursday.



This dream is implied to take place in a factory but the setting is actually a larger variation of the Loomis Street house’s living room. It is not an orderly factory. There are at least three rows of employees, north to south, mostly in the north side of the expanded living room. Everything is all over the floor; frayed electrical cords, carburetor pieces, random sections of plastic, small broken appliances such as toasters, smaller tabletops, etc. I am not sure what is being manufactured but I know there are a lot of vacuum cleaners used to clean work areas. There are several other people working, all sitting on the floor. I perform several menial tasks, most of which I do not recall, though one relates to winding up a frayed electrical cord.

One older female supervisor (who also spends most of the time sitting on the floor working on something) gives me the task of taking the front wheels off of all the vacuum cleaners, including any that had been buried and hidden under other junk, apparently for cleaning, due to hair and short threads being trapped in the wheels and jamming them. They are not much like real ones though. There is a plastic part on each side in the front that resembles a Popsicle stick which is screwed on and holding at least three strangely fibrous tiny wheels in place - wheels which seem to have the potential to soften or eventually dissolve. I look for a screwdriver but cannot find one. My dream seems to “reset” and I am back at my task taking off the sections and taking the tiny wheels out, hoping that they do not get misplaced. I do this with about eight or nine vacuum cleaners with more to do.

Once again, I am eventually aware that I do not have a screwdriver and cannot find one. I try to mentally unscrew parts, but it does not seem focused enough to work. (Trying to do something with telekinesis or otherwise mentally causing the event has been common in my dreams since childhood. In some cases, I move on to the next part of my dream even if my attempt to force something does not work and I pretend that it had. For example, after several attempts of mentally forcing my wearing of shoes, I go walking anyway, pretending I had put them on and am wearing them. Sometimes this works. This implies non-lucid dream control.)

I do not want the supervisor (who is dressed as a maid from the early 1960s) to be annoyed with me. She reminds me of Shirley Booth in her Hazel persona (though at least ten years older) though I have not seen her in that show since childhood.

I end up going into what would have been one of the bedrooms but in my dream is instead a factory storage area. There are many small boxes stacked in many piles. Looking more closely, I see that they are possibly all “Flintstones” videos, many possibly VHS (regarding the size of the box). There are also several packages of new trading cards loosely arranged in each so that the packets slide around randomly. This may be an earlier product the factory had produced and discontinued, yet added the cards as an incentive to purchase as “new”. I am still annoyed about not finding a screwdriver. I seem to be aware of a couple Phillips screwdrivers on the floor here and there (though their appearance seems more as a dream within a dream), but I need a standard flat-blade. I spend time rubbing the dust off the video cases with my bare hands (it feels very realistic, the sense of touch being enhanced at this point) as my dream fades.

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Morning of March 15, 2013. Friday.



I am in a sort of drama unrelated to anything in real life or movies I had seen. There is a fight outside between an Asian man and some sort of American or Australian English missionary. There are also two other men with the missionary, who seems to be shot with an arrow through the chest, but he turns out to be alive. The fight is related to the fact that the Asian man had claimed the other man had not rescued his wife from a location she could not leave as he had promised a year or two prior. This turns out to be a Cantonese factory, where she works at a very low wage and can not go home. The man says he will find the other man’s wife (being held in a factory owned by the mother, it seems) and so I leave with the group of three and the Asian man remains in the city area and seems very sad.

We come to a large building (of about four floors high) that has a very large elevator disguised as a main door and facade area that leads into the normal (public) part of the building (about eight times the size as a normal one in real life). It also goes down to a hidden factory area. It has folding retractable stairs that only come out when the hidden area is reached to allow access to the secret factory through an extended hall from where the elevator stops. (The steps are built into the side of the elevator itself.)

It is easy to fit in, because there are people from all nationalities working there. There is a chubby, white American woman of about thirty who seems the most extroverted. One of the “spies” I am with is given a multiple choice test with only one distractor (so the chance of being randomly correct is a full 50%) to see if he can read Cantonese well enough to do his work. It is a small, rough black-and-white drawing of a snake-like dragon (which is always a negative symbol in my dreams that I believed related to either lung cancer or the mother of a bride in the past - the “slaying of the dragon” equating to rescuing a girl from her manipulating mother, which seems to fit this dream theme somewhat - the rescuing of a man’s wife from the “control” of a strict factory setting where the mother is “manager”). The man just randomly picks answer “b” over “a” (both are a total of about seven or eight characters each) and turns out to be correct, but it does contain some of these characters:



Supposedly a play on “DRAG king”, apparently, a woman who dresses as a male or runs a factory as a male(?) - MAN-ager?

The correct one seemed to involve “low-lying” stealth (as a “real” dragon - “lung”) by the mother of the bride with a sort of triple pun involving “drag” (as dragging on the ground from being “low” and being “lowly” in an act of stalking or manipulating someone - I have gotten many intriguing, complex or layered pun-like patterns from dreams of the past I likely would never have thought of consciously).

I am thinking much of the writing (but not all) looks more Korean than Cantonese, but I then notice a muddled mix of Asian languages on some of the other documents. One phrase seems to mean “a hat for my boyfriend”, another, “a collapsible vase for my darling mistress”, which seems odd, since the products are supposedly public-oriented and from a large “secret” factory.

The American lady seems friendly and helpful and does not seem to be there against her will like some of the others may be (I am not certain). I also do not know about the missionary or where the Asian man’s wife might be, perhaps a different area, but that becomes less important in my dream. On a regular basis, our job is simply to put together products from the parts we receive in black satchels of slightly varying sizes. We open them, read instructions, and pass the items down the longer tables along with the satchels (I think with the satchel flat, then the documentation, and the item on top that).

I receive my satchel and open it. In it is a kit that is mostly already put together, along with the related merchandise tags (to sign?) and instructions. It is a very dark blue (almost black) umbrella with two tiers. The top tier can come down to cover the first, more normal part of the umbrella. It seems kind of unusual. To me, it would logically seem that rain could probably go under the top section and leak through the main part (normal main part, but with an opening for the ribs of the top part and some sort of retractable device for the smaller hat-like section to come down and fit more snugly to look more like a normal umbrella). Not much happens after that. There does not seem to be any presence of foremen to watch people work, advise to work faster, or give additional instructions as was expected.

This may relate a bit to real life. It has been ten years or so since we have been able to find a real umbrella that did not fall apart or break upon first usage or so. A lot of stores in the region are known by many as “landfill shops” because of the modern trend in extremely poor quality in almost everything made (even expensive new beds) and how the product should be in a landfill before you even buy it.

This dream turned out to have precognitive elements (although probably a bit more like remote-viewing).

Morning of May 29, 1995. Monday.



This is a long dream of a factory that is mostly under the ocean but partly above it in some areas (and thus would be autosymbolism for the sleep cycle and the essence of different areas of consciousness in REM sleep). I go there in a boat after exploring a different building near the ocean. At one point, a shark keeps coming up through the bottom of my boat and roaring like a lion. This “shark” eventually becomes, or somehow always was, only printed on a small thin piece of cardboard. The bottom of my boat seems to be very thin cellophane-like plastic that allows you to see the motions of the water. (This is not the first time that a three-dimensional RAS modulation precursor was transformed into a two-dimension presence, thus a result of my dream self non-lucidly modulating the waking autosymbolism. It always happens in a liminal space buffer - “from under the boat” and in another dream “in the doorway”.)

Later, an unknown female near the factory is eaten by a “real” shark. There are female dancers on a high platform and a staircase that goes down several levels (implying a desired return to deeper sleep). The factory is later threatened by the intrusion of a giant alligator and a plesiosaurus and everyone in the factory goes down to the lower levels rather than evacuating the factory itself. (In other words, hiding from the waking mechanism of which in this case implies coalescence and consciousness unification, though in maintaining an unwillingness to wake yet, in a negative context).

This potential waking trigger does not cease (which of course is a good thing, as one cannot sleep forever). As a lion, a shark, and an alligator are all basically the same factor for this dream type, it is typical multiplicity here. Even the plesiosaurus represents the coalescence precursor here (as it has been in other dreams) though is often a lucidity trigger (as the long neck implies being above the essence of the dream state in the manner of being able to mediate it).

There is a large gun that is robotically linked to a duplicate one on a higher level. When one correctly aims at a projection of any creature above and shoots, the other gun automatically shoots the “real” creatures above on the surface. When I use the weapon, I get both monsters the first time. (This scene obviously represents non-lucid RAS modulation, that is - my dream self non-lucidly utilizing the essence of my conscious will without being directly lucid.)

The factory apparently produces a lot of different things made solely from sea salt and perhaps features of the sea bottom. I look around, as I finally allow my dream to fade under my (liminal) terms. (Even though I took control of my dream on one level by avoiding the waking precursors, which were violent coalescence metaphors, I still did not attain full lucidity.)

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Morning of October 1, 1988. Saturday.

Dream #: 7,957-03. Optimized 2 min read.

My dream concludes briskly. Its foreground is defined by rich imagery and lively movement but without adequate realism. (Its content is unrelated, but the outcome has a similar essence and momentum as a childhood dreaming experience in which Toby and I rescue Brenda from a fire.)

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It is late morning in La Crosse. Without evidence, I assume an accident has occurred in the factory where my brother-in-law Bob is working. The mentation does not infer any details of the accident. I remain standing near the street, about half a block from the factory (probably Machine Products Co. Inc. - where Bob works in real life, though lacking its correct appearance). The rest of the setting is a featureless lawn. There is a sense of urgency, but I do not interact with my dream’s surreal content. There is awe but no concern regarding Bob’s fate or how he might recover.

An ambulance suddenly arrives off to my left, but I do not focus on it. The ambulance crew rushes into the factory. Immediately (with my dream not including any intermediate details or realistic timing), I see my brother-in-law lying on a stretcher, being quickly carried into the foreground by unfamiliar young men in white. Bob is oriented with his head away from me, though partly at an angle oriented to my right. One man holds the end of the stretcher near Bob’s feet, though grips it from behind him while running forward. The second man is supporting the other end.

Bob is on his back, with only the right side of his body remaining. His left side is missing as if he was vertically cut in half, yet there is no blood or gore. Even so, he seems to be alive but semi-conscious. The exaggerated stride of the two interns is vaguely reminiscent of a Mad Magazine Don Martin panel. The impossibility of the scene does not register with my dream self as such.

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This dream is merely a waking trope, correlating with the absence of mind-body connectivity resulting from sleep. Its self-evident causation is immediately recognizable.

Half of Bob’s body on the stretcher is an atypical feature caused by anticipating vestibular system correlation, feasible mobility, and viable physicality in emerging from in-dream sleep paralysis (of which I usually am only instinctually aware other than when I navigate the hypnopompic state). Bob is this dream’s sleep simulacrum, a fundamental factor of my dreaming experiences each sleep cycle for over 50 years.

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A lifetime of experience has taught me that waking tropes usually do not have a real-life meaning or significance. Why would they? They are fundamentally the result of navigating dream space or emerging from sleep. Whether sleep simulacra appear as deceased, sleeping, in suspended animation, or with surreal or impossible injuries as here does not have to correlate with anything other than my depth of sleep and my anticipated transition into mind-body reconnectivity and wakefulness. Even the sense of urgency is often irrelevant, sometimes triggered by an insignificant sound in the environment.

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