Blue_Opossum

Morning of July 29, 2017. Saturday.



I am in an unfamiliar house but which eventually takes on at least one feature of our present home in reality; the back porch. Zsuzsanna seems to be present at times, though the characters change in unlikely ways.

The clearest segment is when Leonard, the friendly pinhead I knew on King Street (who I had not seen since 1990), is seated to my right on a couch and an unknown female (of perhaps about twenty years of age) is sitting to my left. It seems the female may be looking after Leonard, who may be about thirty in this situation. She seems to be referring to him as a “shingle”.

Over time, I notice he is crying, especially as I ask him, “Remember when I used to call you Leonard?” Apparently, people do not usually call him by name.

Eventually, my dream’s characters transform without me paying any attention to the change. The unknown female seems to again be more like Zsuzsanna, yet “Leonard” is now my fictional son. He is possibly about twenty years old (even though he was an older Leonard - who did look like Leonard - just moments before). He does not look anything like Leonard now and he does not resemble any of my sons, either.

My “son” punches the wall at about elbow level. It makes a crack that goes all the way up to the ceiling but the wall is not dented. He then punches the wall higher up, which then does make a deep dent as pieces of the wall fall out, but there is not as much of an upward crack this time.

I yell at him to stop and he moves to punch me in my right shoulder as I lie back onto the couch. I do not feel any pain. I do not really feel like hitting him or yelling again.

Finally, I say, “If you want to hit something, go out and hit the boxing bag”. I motion my right hand towards the back of the house. I soon look out through a (fictional) window and see him boxing. (The punching bag setup is of the same appearance as in reality.)

He comes back in and again sits on my right. I notice that he is having some difficulty with a pair of boxing gloves. I see that he is trying to put on a boxing glove over his right hand though he is already wearing a half finger cycle glove on that hand.

I ask him if he would like to take boxing lessons at a paid venue and he nods and seems happy.

He gets up to leave with the female and I realize or “remember” he is simple-minded. His body is of an unusual shape, somewhat like with an elongated beer belly. (I do not drink beer and I do not know anyone who drinks.) I think about how they might be at risk in a parking lot by not knowing how to react to ordinary people who approach them.

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Reverse engineering my dream in real time:

• My dream self is subliminally aware of being asleep, though there is no viable lucidity. Our bed transmutes into being perceived as a couch by my dream self. Zsuzsanna is still on my left as in reality as we sleep. My viable neural energies decrease and she is an unfamiliar female.
• Leonard appears to my right as a part of potential dream exit symbolism and the preconscious precursor. He is called a “shingle”, which is related to roof symbolism, which relates directly to the level of consciousness between the higher preconscious and the lower emergent consciousness. (There may also be an additional layer that distorts “single” as a play on coalescence waking symbolism.)
• Leonard is now my fictional “son” and no longer looks like Leonard or like any of my sons. In fact, he is my emergent consciousness atypically “trapped” within the preconscious form. This is why he punches the wall, which represents the divisions within levels of consciousness in real time.
• I move back on the couch to subliminally mimic my sleeping position in bed as he hits me on the right shoulder, which is a metaphor for activating the waking prompt (while patting someone on the back near the left shoulder would be a subliminal attempt at reinduction).
• For whatever reason, there is sustained neural activity and I “remember” (though I am still not lucid) that a porch is a common waking transition of liminal space where conflict sometimes occurs to initiate waking (though this is more often with a front porch). Still, it is a rather odd limited thread of increasing awareness, as I still have no knowledge of where I actually live (or much other viable memory yet) other than the boxing bag’s location and appearance.
• I offer to pay for boxing lessons for the preconscious after noticing he is trying to put on boxing gloves yet also already has half finger cycle gloves on, those of which relate to preparatory dream exit symbolism (as a bicycle symbolizes increasing neural energies in real time, associated with the same leg movements as walking up a staircase, which is also related to the emergent consciousness).
• Finally, my dream fades with association with a larger form of liminal space, the parking lot, and I become vaguely aware that these dream characters are not real and so naturally are simple-minded, facing problems in integration with the real world.

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