Blue_Opossum

Morning of August 20, 2018. Monday.

Reading time: 53 sec. Readability score: 74.



I am closer to the liminal space of the waking process, but there are no threads of lucidity. My clueless infra-self is in bed at our present address.

Threads of my conscious self do not make much effort to create detail. I see only an expanse of floorboards, implying a much larger area beyond our bed than exists in reality.

Vague ideas about dogs and how they represent control of the dream state occur. (Again, I am not lucid, so this is infra-control.) A black dog’s head pushes up through the floorboards and moves left to right almost as if it is swimming like a person (as the other floorboards make way for it). I only ever see its front half. After a time, it becomes an unfamiliar man, seen from the chest up, who begins reading cheerful poetry from a small book he is holding.

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In real life, neighbors’ dogs sometimes used to run under our house and bump their heads against the bottoms of the floorboards (though now we have a fence across all areas). One of our cats was making noise under the house recently as well. The concept of reading (though usually regarding me trying to read) is an attempt to achieve more awareness while in the dream state. It is something I have practiced since early childhood.

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Morning of July 17, 2015. Friday.



Zsuzsanna and I are either living at or “temporarily” staying in a mostly unfamiliar large apartment on what seems to be at least the second floor (though I am not aware of any backstory to this setting). It is possibly a variation on the King Street boarding house I have not been in or even directly seen since 1990. In this case, it still seems to be oriented south of the building (or north if it is relevant to our present house) and like an opened composite of Leonard’s room (the pinhead’s), my original L-shaped room, and the front (including the shared kitchen) being brought much closer to the back of the house. Other random characters make an appearance for no seeming reason or recent reflection or association, which includes: One of our landlords from Stadcor Street (Glenn), a cocaine user I knew in my first factory job (Greg R), a couple unremembered celebrities, and a couple relatives (though not correct in appearance). My sister Marilyn (April 25, 1942-Feburary 13, 2014) is also alive again and there is something about NCIS no longer being involved in an investigation. She briefly seems to be in the same “scene” with Ralph Waite (the actor from “The Waltons”; the television series), which is similar to a dream from long before they died.

This dream utilizes a folly I have encountered in other dreams; that is, confusion with dynamics relevant to the second storey of a building in implying we are also somehow at ground level at the same time. In this case, the confusion relates to the discovery of two bodies buried side by side in the “ground” just under the floorboards (again, somehow on the second floor) in what I believe is the kitchen. Finding two bodies is not the original intent. One of my dream’s (unknown) characters pulls up a couple loose floorboards for whatever reason and from there, moves some dirt and unexpectedly uncovers the bodies, which are fairly young and boy and girl. For some reason, this does not feel as macabre as it would in real life (ironic since some dreams augment minor concerns to ridiculous extremes). Over time, I go over to the windows, look down at the street (again, now from the second storey) and have minor concern about another male (our past landlord Glenn) who is approaching and possibly will be questioned on the deaths. The NCIS associations are not that organized or seemingly relevant at the time.

The investigation is slow and uneventful, and the two bodies (minimally skeletal, as the faces are almost discernible though not recognized) remain where they are, the mound of dirt like an elongated oval embankment around them. During this time, while I am sitting back in a chair, a young girl (about six) sleeps mostly on her stomach over me though is not my real-life youngest daughter (I assume, though sometimes dreams shift time elements dramatically). The sense of touch, weight, heat, and slight movement is augmented and lifelike. After this, there is a vague confrontation in another part of the room that I am not involved with, with random characters. When the girl eventually wakes, she walks about in the room before me and makes a sarcastic comment (unremembered) to an unknown character. At this point, she resembles Elizabeth Walton (a very young Kami Cotler), but aggressively out of character and saying the other character should “honor” me (as me being her fictional father). The other character seems somewhat perplexed and not fully developed as an in-dream persona. From here, my dream falls into the abstract as the girl’s hair seems “electrified” somehow and she seems almost goddess-like or at least like a well-defined tulpa (though her characteristics becoming mostly unfamiliar again).

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A part of this dream, as is typical, comes from something I only briefly glanced at for about a second the previous day - incidentally reading how Kami Cotler used to fall asleep on Ralph Waite’s lap during filming of “The Waltons”. Then I see and realize that Ralph Waite died around the same time as my sister on February 13, 2014 - which I had not focused that much on assuming I knew it at all prior to this point (I do not really watch the news that much and far less television than most people). This is in addition to how one much older dream somehow more clearly revealed my father’s death (April 26, 1901-February 14, 1978) several years in advance (as well as several other things that did not even exist at that time, including the “Jumpman” computer game and even the same music used as its theme). I always felt in the back of my mind that this sister would somehow die on the same date (not necessarily the same year) as my father. This was before she was the one to tell me (in the middle of the night) that my father had just died. However, from my perspective (in Australia, related to the time difference) she did die on February 14th when looked at that way (which I cannot help doing). Not only that, the last episode of Season 11 of NCIS (“Honor Thy Father”) was apparently a tribute to Ralph Waite, who sometimes played Jackson Gibbs. Sometimes the layered intricacies of a particular dream tend to seriously puzzle me.

How deep does this go…Ralph Waite may additionally be a play on “wait” and Kami Cotler a play on “cot” (cot/crib/youth) and even “Waltons” may be a play on “walled in” as with one humor magazine title I saw and distinctly still remember from when I was thirteen (No. 114 of “Cracked Mazagine” - spelled as such - from January 1974). (Additional note to self; there was a memory slip between “certain” and “thirteen” for whatever reason.) On the cover, Ralph Waite is standing directly below the word “Home”. Additionally, the setting itself (concerning the imagery of the first body uncovered) was very similar to the first panel of a horror/ghost comic book story I saw years ago (possibly from around the same week or time period as the Waltons satire), which I have yet to recover in my research. Finally, the cot/crib reference is related to the fact that the dismantling (or selling) of a cot or crib accurately foreshadowed my sister’s death (and is a known precognitive metaphor for an upcoming death).

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Despite the curious recurring ambiguity of a setting implied to somehow be on the first floor and the second floor at the same time, this is relevant to how the presumed corpses, buried under the floorboards of the second floor, is a subliminal distorted perception of my sleeping body (a dream sign of the first level) and Zsuzsanna’s, who is sleeping with me at the time.

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Morning of December 25, 2009. Friday.



I am in the backyard of our present address. Although there is not that much of a focus on this morning being Christmas (especially as my dream self is only rarely aware of what year it is, let alone the date), I see Christmas ornaments protruding about a quarter up from where there is only dirt in the far backyard. Most of them are spherical and of one color, though I find more detailed ones when I dig more. I consider that it is an unusual place to store ornaments as such, as they will require cleaning each year.

Eventually, I also start to discover and uncover a few gold and silver coins as I dig (though remaining uncertain of the value or country of origin), some of which have a few holes in them, as if eroded. At this point, there is ambiguity. It now seems I am digging in dirt beneath the floorboards of our lounge room (though this occurs ambiguously, while I still perceive myself as being outside). (In reality however, this would not be possible, as our house is suspended above the ground on stumps.)

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