Blue_Opossum

Morning of February 14, 2018. Wednesday.

Dream #: 18,685-02. Reading time (optimized): 1 min 30 sec.



My dream’s irrelevant setting is the dining room of the Loomis Street house. Zsuzsanna is with me (mostly remaining on my left as in our sleeping orientation). I am digging up roots from parts of sections of grass for a new garden within the “ground” (floor), so only dirt remains.

After spending several minutes pulling roots from the dirt of the dining room “floor,” I notice the end of a section of a little culvert within a hole in the ground of about four inches deep.

When I focus on the little culvert, I think an animal may live in it or that it leads to the animal’s home underground. (I do not consider how ridiculous the idea is for an animal to build a tiny culvert as if by human design). There is a familiar anticipatory feeling caused by the subliminal expectation of waking process dynamics.

I briefly mention it to Zsuzsanna. My older sister Marilyn makes a brief appearance (mostly as she was in the 1960s) and I have illogical thoughts about whether she had died. Because of her death, Bob is moving her belongings even though she had been in the house minutes before.

An answer to my expectation begins. A tiny grayish snake (though of various shades, including a brown tone) crawls from the little culvert. It is only about the size of an earthworm. It eventually crawls to the kitchen. My dreaming mind is expecting this, but it is so vague, the snake stops moving. I consider I may have killed it with my thoughts.

Looking into the living room from the dining room, I see about a dozen long blades of grass on the floor. There seems to be an unrealistically large table taking up much of the living room as I am looking under it from the opposite end of the dining room. I wonder if one of these grass pieces is the snake (which makes no sense as it had just been in the kitchen). There is never a perceived threat. It is as if my dream self is trying to activate RAS again by anticipating a small snake manifesting from a grass blade. No snake appears, and I awake, too warm (even with our fan on).

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Morning of July 29, 2017. Saturday.



[I am within my dream state, unaware of being asleep, yet with most of my conscious self identity extant. Still, towards the higher end of REM, my neural energies begin to grow. I associate them with plants, just as nerve roots seem analogous to the roots of plants. The play on “garden bed” also seems present.]

My wife Zsuzsanna remains to my left as I explore an area of our garden that I had somehow not been aware of until this moment. There are two rows of unknown plants, about nine clusters in each row, that are about two feet in height at the most. Over time, Zsuzsanna tells me about the flowers on them after I first assume them to be some sort of vegetable.

[My wife is also to my left as we sleep. The patterns of my neural energies are not consistent within the dream state. This is the biological nature of sleeping and dreaming. Some newly activate and grow symbolically like a plant; symbolism of which I validated in the 1980s; some cease to be viable.]

Around the area of where the fifth group of plants are in the row on my side from my left, I notice a few clusters that are wilted and almost horizontal to the ground, leaning to the right. I feel annoyed and I consider that the seeds had been too close together when sprouting.

[Critical thinking skills are mainly nonexistent in the dream state. Such neural patterns would bring too much clarity to remain in the dream state. Still - I consider a different way that my neural patterns could be more viable in analogy. The vague oscillations of neural energy that I become aware of manifest as Christmas beetles that the plants are actually growing from within the flowers, insects being a more tangible form of a specific pattern of consciousness than water, yet closer to neural energies that would initiate waking. I do not think it strange that a Christmas bell plant would grow a Christmas beetle, or more specifically, one from each stamen. Each stamen symbolizes each dendrite in my physical mind in real time.]

I see Christmas beetles emerging from the downwardly oriented flowers, these beetles having directly grown from the plants. There are eventually more and more of them. I have no sense of wariness or unpleasantness. In fact, I think I might like to keep them because of their beauty.

[My dream self teleports and is now within our house mostly as it is now, though with minor variations in size and layout. I do not immediately realize that having so many Christmas beetles in the house might prove to be problematic. Too many neural energies brought deeper into the residence of my dream would expand into the waking stage.]

At first, I enjoy having all these Christmas beetles in the house as I watch them in our kitchen and lounge room. However, something in the back of my mind makes me realize that it is not so good an idea. For one thing, they start to buzz, yet the real issue relates to their ability to crawl into anything and everything and spread into various possessions. This is something that I start to consider is not really what I want.

[I have decided that I do not want all of these neural energies within this level of consciousness as it will surely bring about the ascent into whole consciousness if I keep them inside. I consider gathering them up and putting them outside. My dream fades fairly quickly.]

My wife Zsuzsanna, in real life, not that long after my dream, brings attention to some Christmas bell plants I had no idea about. There was no prompt from me, and no way of knowing what had been on her mind previously. This follows the general rule that at least one dream per sleep cycle renders material from her essence and her mind.

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Morning of June 7. 2017. Wednesday.



The first main scene of my dream involves going to a very large unfamiliar post office, though there is the common indoors-outdoors ambiguity. There are a number of rows of post office boxes and drawers, though no interior walls or discernible building features. It seems to be late morning. The sky is overhead; no ceiling implied for the “post office”. It is somewhat like a simple maze in the last part of this scene. I see a group of about six police officers between two rows. In another area, there is an unfamiliar male in black appearing with a gun, though he is not a direct threat to me. Still, I do not want to be near him or the people he aims at from time to time. From an unrealistic distance, I am still able to read a yellow strip of writing below one post office drawer (in about the middle of the feature) that has something to do with needing a special code as well as the key in order to open it. It seems related to a business. I have a curiosity over what might be in the drawers, though I also consider there might not be anything.

Several unknown males join me as I move around the rows of post office boxes to be out of the viewpoint of the man with the gun. He is not after us specifically but I consider that he may not want any witnesses regarding his activity towards others. He does not fire the gun at any point.

Eventually, I leave the area and find myself in an unknown neighborhood. A young version of Zsuzsanna is to my right (though I am seemingly much younger as well, perhaps only about twenty). It is as if we have only been together for a short time. Walking ahead of us and to our left is a thin female with short and curly gray hair. She is unfamiliar and seems at least sixty years of age. She is wearing light-colored slacks and a blouse. She is carrying a large black-and-white cat on her right shoulder (which I assume to be male).

Suddenly, there is some sort of change where Zsuzsanna is now somehow sitting on the lady’s right shoulder and I find myself carrying the large cat near my left shoulder. The old woman somehow caused this because she wants us to have a meal with her at her house and talks to us about this. Her cat was also apparently becoming difficult for her to control, which is why I am now holding it. I am holding it up and out with both hands and it struggles a bit but does not get away.

We reach the area where she lives. She has one neighbor (also an older lady) to our right. The chicken-wire fence is lying on the ground, rolled out to where one must walk on it to get to another gate where there is a small enclosed garden area (which is about the same size in area as our bed and probably a real-time play on “garden bed” as a dream sign). It almost seems like it rolls out automatically (somewhat like an irregular carpet) by the will of the person going to the old woman’s house. I do not really feel like walking on wire mesh, so I hover slightly above it and slowly fly mostly in a vertical position to the enclosed garden area.

Zsuzsanna, being already behind the first gate, is partly lying on her right side on the ground near the right internal corner of the garden fence, holding herself up with her arm. There is soon distorted imagery to where a couple large blades of tall grass partly block my view of her face, but this seems like some sort of “story” related to “Alice in Wonderland”. The old woman talks about a man who tends to her garden, but this becomes like a dream within a dream. The man is also seemingly playing a televised role, dressed as a farmer or a minimal clown as a farmer, but being called a “demon” in describing what he is doing in tending her garden and also having unusual snakes on display to the public. I consider if he feels odd about being called a “demon”, as they do not exist and there is nothing threatening or negative about his persona or activities. He seems to tolerate this in playing a role in a television show. He holds up a couple different snakes that he has cared for. One has a catlike head. The other has a black head on a light brown body but the head of which is like a miniature shark. There are no negative emotions of any kind in seeing this impossible imagery.

Dreams do not really have “interpretations” in the naïve popular usage of the term but they often do have layers of meaning, primarily based on real-time levels of consciousness which may or may not relate more directly to the present conscious self status.

There is a preconscious precursor here. Although he has a gun, it does not create enough of a sense of danger to activate the waking mechanism, which is a major function of dreams (though not the only function as some “experts” claim). The simple maze relates to finding specific threads of my conscious self identity for my temporary fictional dream self to find its way to the waking threshold. The post office probably has two underlying meanings, real-time communication between different levels of the self while not fully awake, and possible links to the collective unconscious (or even collective conscious). It may also relate to precognitive threads with someone the dreamer is not yet in communication with (and may not be for years), something I validated from childhood dreams relating to my “mystery girl” (Zsuzsanna).

The dark cat represents a real-time factor of being asleep (and often represents an aspect of liminal space), as cats are known for sleeping a lot (as well as being active at night when people sleep).

The personified preconscious takes on the form of an older woman carrying her cat. Her giving it to me relates to activating my emergent consciousness precursor. “Beyond the fence” is a metaphor for a shift in consciousness while in the dream state. The first fence is on its side because, in reality, I am lying down (sleeping) instead of being awake and standing up (thus it is a second-level dream sign). I often hover or fly very well and effortlessly in the final stage of a dream and without giving it much thought (which relates to lessening the hypnopompic jerk and waking more softly as it is premonitory of the biological falling sensation). My emergent consciousness (as a projection as the gardener with the snakes in some sort of skewed television role) is illogically called a “demon”, but in a very matter-of-fact sense, with no associations with negativity of any kind. This probably relates to my status of being in a world full of superstitious people who have little or no understanding of the dream state. The imagery, though slightly grotesque (primarily the snake with a black miniature shark head, which is a “less water” factor of which has continuously occurred in my dreams on a day to day basis for over fifty years and is both biological and symbolic on a number of levels) has no effect on my perception or emotions, just as with hypnagogia visuals (though this becomes more of a hypnopompic state). I wake very slowly and softly, with no physical hypnopompic effects.

Morning of May 18, 2017. Thursday.



In the backyard of our present address, a garden is present in an area near the southeast corner, closest to the fence on the east side. There is an area of ground that is about half an oval (the flat half to the fence). In this garden, which is about three feet long, are a number of moonflowers (tropical white morning-glories). I view them at night and there is an unusual spotlight effect on them (though this does not seem wrong or unlikely to me).

I look out during the next morning (with no real sense of much time passing relative to dream time) and there is no garden, not even the oval-shaped area of ground. I “realize” that they are only visible at night under certain conditions (even though they are technically called morning-glories).

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Morning of August 18, 2016. Thursday.



In the first part of one scene, I am at our present home and near our front door. It seems we have at least one (unknown) female visitor but she is talking with my wife Zsuzsanna in the dining room (which we use as the main bedroom). For some reason, our front door is open and I am looking outside while standing in the doorway. It seems to be early afternoon.

I am eating some delicious snacks of a strong bittersweet flavor, eating at least a dozen of them without paying much attention to their appearance. They go down my throat, each being swallowed whole. Finally, upon looking at them, I notice that they are like miniature shish kebabs, though the implied stick is also edible and sweet. On the end of each is a large and shiny red carpenter ant head with black mandibles. This gives me pause even though I had been enjoying these snacks (and I briefly vaguely wonder if eating their heads as such could be dangerous). I realize that the ant head goes down first, and I had been properly consuming them as such, but now, as I think about it more clearly, I am not so sure I will continue to eat them, at least for now.

In another sequence, I am looking over at (old neighbor in Cubitis) Harold’s orange grove area (even though the house I am observing this from seems to be a minor variation of our present home). It seems to be late morning. The weeds are very high, nearly at chest level. I feel slightly guilty for not having mowed the area (which has no orange trees in this scene) yet do not even consider that his area is not my responsibility anyway. Soon however, two of his workers come over and start cleaning the area. They are dressed like sheiks (even though I sense one is East Indian and had worked as a cab driver recently). I still feel slightly guilty at their difficulty in trimming the plants. However, it soon is seen that what I first thought were weeds are two beautiful trapezoidal sections of tall flowering plants, forming two somewhat large hedge-like features. It now seems to be an amazing regrowth of what was intended years ago to be as beautiful as it is now. Still, the unknown male continues to work at it, cutting small sections at the bottom. He brings his gardening shears near the top but the areas near the blossoms are impossible to cut for whatever reason - in fact, it almost breaks his shears. He stops and studies the tops of the plants. He then informs Harold’s wife (who instead appears as Diane K for an unknown reason) and tells her that the plants are producing fruit, which seem very valuable. This does not seem to matter as Diane tells him that everything must be cut down as that is what Harold had said, though she seems upset about it and refers to him as a “posturing curmudgeon”. I feel very annoyed that the fruit will be wasted as well as soon missing out on the beauty of the red and white prolific flowers.

Eventually, the setting changes very illogically. I am still seemingly at our present address, but the roof seems to be missing and the orientation still partly reflects Cubitis. Looking to the north, I see what resembles the Rose Street building. It seems to be nighttime though still somehow light enough to see at a distance. On the roof is “Diane” (still apparently playing the role of Harold’s wife) though she now seems to be Karen’s mother instead. I wonder if she sees me and recognizes me. She does not wave or make any indication as such. My two youngest sons are in the house, more to the north. The house seems to be open to outside on that end. I am still aware of her annoyance at Harold having the plants cut down, but when I look out, I notice two smaller beautiful hedge-like areas and it now seems daytime again.

Turning about, the setting shifts yet again and it is now late at night again. I now “understand” even after having gazed at the shorter hedge-like flower sections in his yard, there are now only two mats in that spot (which somehow now is a much smaller area) with shorter grass growing in parts in a somewhat random pattern. I also see light-colored sand in random patches, mostly on the mats, which is also somehow the remains of flowers. This is in the area of the kitchen on his side as apparently we share the residence. I view the scene from our (my family’s) side of the kitchen. I do not question the plants having been growing out of the wooden floor and also growing from the mats. The kitchen is fully enclosed and no part of the house is fully open to outside as it was minutes ago.

Soon, I need to use the bathroom and it is late afternoon again. I go into a (fictional) room (which would be implied to be between our two son’s rooms in layout) where it looks as if the toilet had somehow been slid across the floor and turned perpendicularly to where it had been. There is a decorated Christmas tree to its left and the room looks more like a lounge room overall. Looking down, I see there is hardly any water in the bowl and there is also a transparent plastic wrapper in it. I decide to use the “other” toilet.

The other toilet is in our actual lounge room and faces east though is in a corner (northwest) that is implied to be our bathroom. At first, it seems fine (and it also is now a few hours earlier than it was moments ago), though I eventually realize the curtains are open on two sides and I hear the rest of my family returning home from their outing. I am annoyed (in realizing how open the “bathroom” is) but get up to close the two curtain sections. Still, I then see there is nothing there at all, the area being completely open on two sides with no curtains after all (implied entry point and the right side) and the time shifts to where it is even earlier (close to morning), so I decide to wake up and use our real bathroom (though it is not that common for a dream to be based on needing to get up and use the bathroom), which I immediately recall is not problematic as the ones in my dream had been.

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It is curious how many bizarre scene shifts and impossible time shifts there were and I did not question any of them, especially the house not having a roof and being completely open on one side or time jumping backwards a couple times, though both aspects are quite common in dreams.

Morning of September 7, 2015. Monday.



This dream may have partly been influenced by briefly thinking about the number nine due to reading and checking an older entry and how, on one (symbolic) imagery level, it is like a seed growing a root.

My wife Zsuzsanna and our children and I are in Cubitis, at the north side of my childhood home and near the edge of the carport, more towards the driveway on the west end. I plant some seeds along the perimeter (where my mother sometimes had a garden in real life but mostly red canna lilies and coleus blumei). Surprisingly, they start to grow almost immediately. My wife’s mother is there in the background but her behavior is not problematic, oddly enough.

There are three types of plants that rapidly grow (so fast, we have to move out of the way), one being watermelon, though the watermelons grow nearly as big as a person and taste like strawberries (though otherwise they look like watermelon). Another type is like cabbage but unrealistic in that the leaves are more like spinach and in thick layers (as if stacked and compressed into the spherical form). Still, I eat my way through half a head and the flavor is actually enjoyable. The other type is dragon fruit, but it grows quite tall and the fruit hangs down more from the top of the plant, being reminiscent of a bent-over street light. The dragon fruit imagery gives me a very vague impression (though not really enough to focus much on it in that light in-dream) of the “neck” and “head” of the 1953 “War of the Worlds” spaceship design.

Morning of July 19, 1975. Saturday.

Dream #: 3,134-02. Reading time: 50 sec.



My imaginary dream self becomes aware of being in an alternate (erroneously detailed) version of our backyard in Cubitis. It seems to be in the late morning. I am aware of my father standing near the back of our chicken shed and digging, but this is not a defined focus.

My attention is mainly on a giant onion that is growing in our garden in the area west of the railroad tracks. The top part of it that is exposed is about three feet in diameter. I do not consider its presence unusual.

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How to understand dreams in my online dream journal: This dream is mainly a result of instinctual sleep-wake mediation and inherently unrelated to my waking-life status other than with partial literal threads (for example, we had a garden in this location in real life but did not grow giant onions).

A feature coming out of the ground is instinctual autosymbolism for emergence from slow-wave sleep. Dreams exhibit co-occurrence with the waking transition as a preparatory function of achieving consciousness.

The top part of the onion in this dreaming experience, being above ground, confirms to me that accessible layers of memory only exist with the emergence of cognizance and consciousness during the beginning of liminality (increasing lucidity) to viable wakefulness.

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Morning of August 28, 1971. Saturday.



I discover a seemingly prehistoric coral-like “garden” underground that I had dug out from our front yard and put in shallower cardboard boxes and tried to maintain in a few different areas of my room, mostly on my tables and dressers (perhaps one or more on my floor). These “plants” (including supposedly prehistoric sea fans) are all of various colors (each one only of one color), including Pepto Bismol pink (fairly common in childhood dreams), bright glowing yellows, and that brighter glow-in-the-dark green used most often for certain toy surprises in cereal. My prehistoric garden seems very special; beautiful and nostalgic for reasons I am not sure of. Each type of plant has its own specific color. There is also a purple one that sort of looks somewhat lightning-shaped, with a bumpy surface as well as orange sponge-like “rocks” but of which may grow larger over time. Some “plants” are more rock-like, sponge-like, or fern-like than others and some glow more than others (the purple ones glowing the least, the green ones the brightest, I think - almost in the proportionate manner of glow-in-the-dark colors in real life). I am very glad to have these special plants in my room. They comfort me and radiate a sense of peace.

This is an interesting situation and one of my most comforting and deeply felt dreams of this time period. Coming from underground implies exploring more deeply into the unconscious realm or taking something (a gift) from the unconscious realm or perspective or mood of the unconscious self (the memories as such defining a more harmonious and joyful coalescence into whole consciousness), the “prehistoric garden” perhaps analogous to human DNA, yet the way the plants glow (and how they are stored - in plain cardboard boxes for the most part) implies the essence of the conscious self (and the light of day analogy). The light remains at a certain level however, which may be why my dream seems to last so long (seemingly all night), almost analogous to a reassuring nightlight.