Blue_Opossum

Morning of September 12, 2015. Saturday.



A small beautiful hand is very well-defined and well-rendered. It moves ever so slightly. I appreciate the three-dimensionality of the fingers being slightly closer to me, though I am more in the center of the room at first. There is a sense of deep peace and an essence of bliss. I find myself in a mostly empty semi-dark room with one four-paned window, open only about an inch. There is a gentle rain outside, some of the droplets seeming to fall on large leaves from the sound of it, perhaps elephant ear plants. A young girl in a white hooded dressing gown is webbed to the wall to the left of the window (on my left) but also a bit onto the actual window, mostly facing the wall but slightly turned to the right. The silky, seemingly glowing spider web covers her everywhere, head to toe, and out to the floor a bit, all but her left forearm and hand (though it seems her left shoulder is webbed against the wall). I notice five very small blueberries in the palm of her hand, none touching each other. I do not know who it is, but I assume, because of the ecstatic nature of the imagery and the strange but pleasant sensations in my skin, that it can only be an essence of my wife.

I take one of the blueberries and eat it and the taste is very sweet. I take a second one after due consideration, and the taste is very slightly different but still nice (as with blueberries in real life, as well as strawberries; each and every one always tastes slightly different from every other). Regardless of being “woven” into the intricate spider web, the girl is seemingly alive and very healthy; just in some sort of “hibernation” perhaps. The scene is not gruesome at all; it is amazingly pleasant (and I see no actual spider at any point, though I suspect it is a redback or black widow that somehow made all the intricate webbing). She does not open her eyes at any point. I consider having a third blueberry, but the sensations in my skin are almost “too” pleasurable, so I leave her with three and I casually throw myself backwards into oblivion, falling into various beautiful abstract images and flashes of pure blue.

Morning of July 3, 2015. Friday.



The prior evening into this morning was completely filled with a different style and route of dreaming I usually take - resulting in different dream types and levels than usual. I remained fully lucid in and out of sleep for several hours (more common when I was around sixteen), fully aware that I am the sole dream-maker and thus without challenge or threat unless I manifest it in-dream (as I did with dinosaurs and such when much younger), with no change in overall focus, yet since I mostly decided to be a “watcher” (and with no scripting or visual conditioning) events just unfolded randomly and without much structure or purpose.

One of the scenes just involved looking at some sort of A4 form, possibly an application of some sort such as that for a patent cover. A child had drawn an airplane over it so that it almost looks as if the airplane is in a faux “bird cage” (in viewing it all as one scene, which includes the otherwise blank horizontal lines of the application). I did not even consider this possible metaphorical play (something related to freedom, I think - or something regarding the nature of lucidity itself) until I made a near-facsimile of the scene in real life, which I find often helps me determine additional meanings or layers. However, this is probably just an association with how our youngest daughter (age two) sometimes draws a picture as such on a blank (but lined like notebook paper) page of my wife’s journal - though does not damage it otherwise.

For quite some time, I am lying in bed with a younger version of my wife and think that I should probably get dressed before I get up (should I get an idea to do anything other than love-making) as, even though I do not really care that we are in a building that is open on at least three sides and there is at least one (unknown) other older female in the area, I should still have some covering - especially as the weather has been cooler lately. The sense of legs touching legs as I rest is quite realistic - the sense of touch being typically augmented to where I am not sure if I even want to do anything else in my dream. On my right near the bed (and seemingly the only internally-rendered wall of the structure), I notice about five pairs of underpants on the floor that I had apparently left there before, which seems a little preposterous for some reason, even considering it is a dream. Mostly, I am questioning why I would just leave pairs there from previous “visits” to this version of my wife, and even so, how could they still be there during waking transitions? I would think that there would be some sort of “automatic cleanup” of dream settings before the next “visit” - even so, I do not recall this exact setting or overall layout from any prior dream - and I know they are mine. I am thinking about taking them “back” (to our real-life home) but then realize that idea is preposterous as well. This shakes me out of my dream to where I cannot find my real pants near the bed, either, but decide to leave it.

Later, when I am almost fully awake out of one scenario, I clearly smell chocolate-chip cookies baking. The scent is so strong and pleasing that I am somewhat puzzled that Zsuzsanna is lying in bed again. She will probably take them out of the oven later. I continue to enjoy the smell, and it is only several minutes later that I realize I am in some sort of hypnopompic carryover and that the smell is not even there. In fact, there is no scent of any kind that I notice after full wakefulness. Hypnopompic smells are fairly rare for me, but this was so pleasant, it colored my mood in a more cheerful sense.

Another scene takes me back to Stadcor Street in Brisbane. I decide to try to talk to an unseen character (to see if someone just randomly appears - something I did a lot in dreams in my late teenage years - even in fully dark settings or abstract spaces) and a young female takes notice, but appears almost out of view on my right (I have to lean out the fictionally-structured window just a bit to see her). The scene is a bit ambiguous as I was sure there was a character meant to be on my left, but this one appears so I talk to her and even tell her that I was trying to talk to someone on my left which makes me feel a bit silly. She is talking from behind a shorter wooden fence about chest-high (and is implied to be my fictional neighbor it seems) and I remain looking out from the window in the main bedroom at the back of the house. Not much ensues; she just seems to wonder what I am doing to my dream regarding the setting and any potential theme or plot and seems helpful.

This scene eventually shifts to where I decide to try to read something, so I turn on my “dream television” to see what happens. I soon see a sequence of binary numbers on the bottom of an otherwise blank (dark) screen and I start to think, oh, how clever, someone (a dream character or perhaps “real” entity) is trying to talk to me in binary. I am somewhat wary of who or what would do this, so I study what I see with full lucidity so that I can perhaps translate it later if possible. The numbers are scrolling across the bottom and just turn out to be “10 10 10 10 10…” as I watch. However, they transform briefly into “01 01 01 01 01…” before fading (or rather, as they are rolling off to the left). I then see my first name with the last letter (“e”) missing. Soon, I see one instance of the number two in the sequences of ones and zeroes and then realize it is pointless - as that means it cannot be binary code. I then consider if it is supposed to be the capital letters “I” and “O” rather than one and zero, as I see something like IPIO at one point, which stands for “i’ll pass it on”. I lose interest in trying to make sense of this gibberish so shift my mind to an outdoor environmental setting.

Soon, I am flying (in a standing vertical position) over a highway with hardly any traffic. I see one car, which I change into a bicycle and back several times as I fly along saying, “I’m dreaming, I’m dreaming, I’m dreaming” - which I had already known hours before, but just feel like saying it, thinking that it might also accelerate my awareness (though it does not - and my critical thinking skills are still mostly absent). I quickly get bored watching the bicycle transforming to car and back and as such, causing the person (unknown male) riding and driving to zigzag all over the road in confusion. I am probably being a bit mean, so let it go.

Finally, the last scene takes me into my house (though which actually seems more like Barolin Street) where I notice someone has parked his car inside the house (completely impossible in real life of course, though I only see part of the back of it). In fact, he is trying to back out of the room he has parked in (due to me telling him to leave and get his car out of my house), but cannot get it through the doorway, it seems (and I do not consider in-dream that he could not have possibly gotten in that way in the first place). He gives up and goes out onto the porch and sits down and I follow him out, continuing to yell at him to get out (regardless of how much rent he had been paying). He looks annoyed and frustrated.

Night of December 24, 1966. Saturday. (Christmas Eve.) Original date and other data validated and corrected.



A girl older than me (about nine) is dressed in a cat suit (like Catwoman from “Batman”) with the smaller eye mask. I confront her after she seems to not know someone is out on the roof (Rose Street apartments in La Crosse, Wisconsin). I think it is just before midnight and it is cold and very quiet otherwise and there is a bit of snow on the roof (more-so the recessed areas on either side of the walkway). She is surprised by me prior to going through the window into my sister Marilyn’s apartment and claims to be one of Santa’s elves (though it is not Christmas eve and I inform her of this in a somewhat patronizing yet friendly way). I am not sure what to think. She is carrying a green, lumpy bag which seems to contain a fair amount of unknown items (possibly some soda/pop bottles), but is seemingly not that heavy for her. (In the original, I had noted a possible set of holes with a fork partially protruding near the top.)

There was also a scene of a partial hypnopompic unfolding where paw prints are noted on the roof instead of human ones and I am considered to be “telling a story” regarding the incident later on in a false awakening.

This is a recurring theme of catlike people or beings being on the Rose Street roof late at night, often shadowy or mysterious forms; a likely influence - the animated movie “Gay Purr-ee” from 1962 (which I first saw on the 23rd of December, 1966) and the short-lived TV series “T.H.E. Cat”. In fact, an episode of “T.H.E. Cat” played during the next television airing of “Gay Purr-ee” (also written as “Gay Purree”) on a different channel.

This dream did have precognitive nuances as usual, but not that multilayered. A few years later, I saw the girl who seemed like the one in this dream (with the exact same details in the costume and same manner and movement) in real life. She was a classmate who had dressed up as “Catwoman” (not the exact character, but for some other story) for the school Halloween play.

Several years later, in 1971, the song where they sang “the Candy Man can” was sometimes "automatically" mentally “replaced” by “the Money Cat can” - which has a vaguely similar style and the same number of syllables in parts. I thought as a child that they were perhaps influenced by the “Money Cat” song, which would not be the first time one song influenced another commercially. In fact, I made a note of this to a few classmates, but they ignored the idea completely. This was one of the few times during that period I mentioned anything dream-related.

Morning of May 11, 1976. Tuesday.



Yes, this is, after all, the original unimaginative dream journal title from age fifteen.

I am at my high school in Arcadia in the lunch break area near the “chuck wagon room”/food purchasing area and I soon see that someone (unknown) had drawn an abstract life-sized asymmetrical picture of a “girl” on the outer wall facing east out into the main open area with the benches, with possibly black chalk on the lighter-colored wall, but the drawing of which is mostly only made up of triangles, rectangles and lines (and likely even distorted handwriting - perhaps implied to be the artist’s signature), but still suggesting a human form overall. Later, it comes to life (after beginning to look a little more like a human form) and I want to catch “her” to get to know her (and perhaps even make love as perhaps she will become more realistic now that she is in the “real” world) but “she” has vanished after running to the north for a time and just as my dream-self starts to attain a clarity bordering on lucidity.

Looking back on this and considering how so many dreams were precognitive of my near-legendary “dream girl destiny” - I now consider that the drawing was additionally inclusive of distorted letters of the alphabet in a very similar way as the Gold Key comic book columns which featured drawings by readers of people’s bodies and faces drawn with a base of letters and numbers (and also inclusive of abstract shapes and “squiggles”). In fact, this now clear strong influence seems irrefutable - as we first made (waking reality) contact with handwritten letters. I now consider this dream fully resolved.

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