• Lucid Dreaming - Dream Views




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    Blue_Opossum

    1. walking with…not my niece

      by , 10-14-2018 at 04:15 PM
      Morning of October 14, 2018. Sunday.

      Dream #: 18,927-02. Reading time: 3 min 54 sec. Readability score: 69.

      Note that Linda is not Linda in this dream. (See notes after main entry.)



      In my dream, I am going to an amusement arcade in southside La Crosse with my niece, Linda. I am at the Loomis Street house. It is late at night, about fifteen minutes before midnight. It seems we will spend about an hour there and get the bus back to the Loomis Street house at about fifteen past one in the morning.

      It seems we had walked north through the Loomis Street alley, as we are then walking east on Gillette Street to go to the Loomis and Gillette bus stop. I am puzzled as to why we are going somewhere so late at night for only about an hour or less of video game play. I check my right pants pocket to feel several American quarters (at least eight) and a few other coins, and I consider I may have enough for the bus trips and a few video games. (There is augmented tangibility at this point.)

      As we arrive at the intersection, almost to the bus stop, my dream resets. Linda and I are now crossing from the east side of the street opposite the Loomis Street house. It is also early afternoon now.

      An unfamiliar man is walking (on the west side of Loomis Street) with another man who is also unknown. They are both in their thirties. He is holding a gun to the other man’s head as they walk. The man holding the gun is on the other man’s right. The situation makes me wary, but we keep walking in front of them after we cross to their side (rather than avoiding them), heading to the same bus stop as in the previous scene. I briefly consider that we may be in danger, but that does not seem to be the case, as the man with the gun does not seem interested in us even as potential witnesses who could identify him later. As we get to the intersection, my dream resets for the second time (again, without triggering dream state recognition).

      Linda and I are now about three blocks north of Loomis and Gillette in a (fictitious) commercial district and walking south on the west side of Loomis Street. It is afternoon. I am thinking about whether it would be worth it to be at the amusement arcade for only a short time. I am still erroneously considering the midnight to one o'clock span even though it is daylight. I am now wearing a hooded sweater with big pockets.

      I decide that I should have a gun, as the man in the previous scene had a gun and I do not want to take any chances. I create a revolver in the right pocket of my hooded sweater (without lucidity). A policeman is in the area, though remains behind us. As I walk, the revolver, as I am holding it within the pocket, somehow comes out of the pocket and is at my side for a short time. As I continue, my arms swing with my gait in an exaggerated manner. I briefly ponder upon whether people will think I had forgotten how to walk correctly or deliberately trying to draw attention. I put my hand back into the pocket. I consider that if the policeman stops me, I will say that it is a 9mm blank firing Jaguar 80. He does not stop me.

      As Linda and I walk to Loomis and Gillette from the north to get to the bus stop, my dream resets for the third time. Now we are walking west on the north side of Gillette Street, a few blocks west of the bus stop. (We had reached it before the reset.) She is ahead of me by a few feet and on the right. It is late morning. She is wearing baggy clothes; blue jeans and a pale blue blouse, and this puzzles me as I try to discern her form. She seems about ten years old. My conscious self identity is still not extant, but my dream self’s fictitious mind is losing cohesion, and my dream becomes more abstract in the waking process.



      [key descriptors]

      subliminal ultradian rhythm thread (distorted)

      intersection as RAS mediation (three dream resets)

      preconscious avatar with a gun

      preconsciousness as police activity (reticular formation personification)

      coins as emergent consciousness cue (does not work here)

      the man with the gun to the other man’s head is counter-processing, that is, potential RAS modulation over my precursory emerging consciousness as the opposite of my dream self paired with a potential reinducer



      [key ERRORS]

      Erroneous discernment of induction simulacrum (Naiad) as my niece Linda when there is not the vaguest resemblance or waking life association. However, this is a result of my current conscious self identity being absent. Ultimately, the simulacrum has nothing to do with Linda (whom I have not seen in real life since 1994) and is a younger manifestation of Zsuzsanna.

      Linda never lived at or stayed at the Loomis Street house.

      I currently have no interest in playing video games, though when I was much younger, I did go to an amusement arcade in southside La Crosse to play pinball.

      Loomis Street 1500 area erroneously continues north as an unfamiliar commercial district.

      My dream resets three times (including late night becoming early afternoon) without dream state recognition, not because of failing to “become lucid” by popular definition, but because of the absence of my true conscious self identity. (Note the non-lucid dream control of my creation of the gun.)

      My conscious self’s identity, as my dream self is trying to discern the simulacrum in the last scene, remains absent. However, the fact that it is ahead of me and to my right designates its transition from potential reinducer into the emerging consciousness avatar at this point.


      Categories
      Uncategorized
    2. It’s a Wonderful Lie

      by , 07-18-2018 at 09:02 PM
      Morning of December 20, 2017. Wednesday.



      This dream seems to indirectly stem from another (“Lounge Room Enterprise”), though the setting is now like a movie theater, though with the essence of our lounge room. I still view it as a public place. The time has changed to be more near the evening.

      The movie playing is “It’s a Wonderful Life” (from 1946). I am sitting in the second row from the front. As I am watching the movie, I look to my right and see who may be an elderly lady. She reminds me vaguely of my mother (though is not her). Other unknown people are present.

      At one point, James Stewart, in the black-and-white scene, partly emerges from the screen, seemingly pointing a gun at someone in the first row, which makes me slightly wary of where I am sitting. I am wondering how real the movie will be.

      I decide to move to a different seat and walk to the left to the aisle. I look back, noticing that what I had thought was the female patron is now a big pillow, which was upright in the seat. There seem to be more of them in other areas.

      I feel a bit puzzled and begin to wonder if there was supposed to be a gun in that scene. I go back to see that the screen is mostly flat, but again walk back to the left. I find a door that goes into an area behind the screen. I become very puzzled, because I do not realize that a movie is only two-dimensional. There are a couple empty boxes in what seems like a storage area.



      There was no preconscious modulation here when the avatar (Jimmy Stewart) initiated. The precursory event did not seem directed at me. I must have subliminally projected my conscious self identity into another avatar during RAS mediation as is sometimes the case. However, no drama ensued, and I ended up in liminal space (the storage area being autosymbolic of this state as a precursor to waking). The movie theater is autosymbolic of mediating the dream state. The presence of pillows was also a typical dream state indicator.



      Readability score: 73.


    3. The Moon Gun

      by , 02-02-2018 at 08:02 AM
      Morning of February 2, 2018. Friday.



      I find myself in an unknown and unfamiliar location, though as my dream self, I do not think of it as such. Zsuzsanna is present in the majority of scenes, which involve my usage of a raygun in an unusual activity.

      At first, only sparks come out. I find myself in an unfamiliar room where an unknown female (of about thirty) sits near a desk. As I aim it upwards at nothing in particular, sparks fly out and one lands on the female’s knee, which apparently hurts. I apologize for this, but when the sparks land on me, they create a pleasant sensation.

      In most other scenes, I am outside, though under some sort of shelter with industrial implications of which include a convergence of many different horizontal and vertical pipes. There is a square opening through the ceiling and roof of no more than one foot by one foot. I have an unusual false memory that the moon powers the gun, but I only use it to fire upward. I stand in one area, aiming it through the opening in the ceiling. Over time, the miniature radar dish at the front of the gun starts shining when I hold it upward in a certain position that apparently reflects the moon’s light. I do not actually see the moon at any point.

      I perform this act a number of times. It seems to make my dream more vivid each time. I go to a different area that has a smaller opening, hold my gun upward, and move it about until I see the moon shine on the miniature radar dish in a circular fullness and then I pull the trigger. The beam of light that emerges is about an inch in diameter.

      There eventually seems to be a vague backstory, based on an emergent false memory, relating to a recent alien invasion, though there is no hint of any impending threat. I aim the gun at another part of the ceiling in the realization that it will destroy the structure. I wake with the perception that I had accomplished the defeat of a supposed alien threat.

      Explanatory supplement (Saturday, 3 February 2018): This dream occurs by way of liminal dream control, which means that my dream self is habitually acting out the dynamics of oneironautics (which represents the nature of the dream state, not waking life) without being actively aware that the environment and situation is of the dream state as with conscious-self-based lucidity. This is based on autosymbolic cues from subliminal threads of the conscious self identity. This should be obvious from how my dream self’s actions vivified the dream state even though my dream self’s motive from the outset was not clear. My dream self eventually focused on destroying the alien building. This was the liminal space barrier between my dream self identity and my conscious self identity, the opening in the ceiling being autosymbolism for my dream’s potential exit point back into viable consciousness. (It was somewhat small, which is moot, as the entire building was apparently gone at the waking point.) The miniature radar dish, glowing more over time and producing more energy and a wider beam of light, signified the increase in neural activity as the emergent consciousness implementation.

      This invalidates the asinine belief that the conscious self experiences something that must be “interpreted” solely in conscious self terms, incorrectly assumed as “from the subconscious” (rather than correctly understood as RAS mediation between the transient dream self identity and the conscious self identity). It is the dream self that is the subconscious, which is coalesced by way of RAS (Reticular Activating System) into consciousness through the waking transition, which is what a dream is (which most people have no understanding of).

      Additionally, Zsuzsanna’s dream showed threads of associations with my dream in the very common but inexplicable (by society’s beliefs) patterns. This is evidence that RAS mediation is transpersonal, and distance does not seem to matter (as this was occurring before I even met Zsuzsanna, and we had grown up on opposite sides of the world).


      Tags: beam, gun, moon, moonlight
      Categories
      non-lucid
    4. Escaping back to where I started

      by , 12-12-2017 at 07:50 PM
      Morning of December 12, 2017. Tuesday.



      In this dream, there is the transition to water reinduction (water as symbolizing sleep), though my conscious self identity is virtually nonexistent. Even being in the Loomis Street house’s backyard, there is not even the association with my relatives who lived there for years. While in the backyard near the alley (where I have not been in real life since February 1994), there are a number of unfamiliar characters. There is something about going somewhere, another country perhaps, and we start our journey.

      The Loomis and Gillette Street area transform into some sort of distorted wharf, which I believe is meant to be with the ocean on the left (even though Wisconsin is nowhere near the ocean in reality). All of the people we meet are dark-skinned and may be Sri Lankan (which I seem to recall being said as such in my dream). They are all males in their twenties, supposedly refugees. It is illegal for us to be there or walk over the wharf to wherever it is we are going. That will apparently not stop us though and our group walks over the long wharf. Still, the other males are very friendly even though they seem slightly confused that we are not like them. I start talking to them in Spanish, “Cuando salga el sol me despertaré”. (“When the sun rises I will wake” - note that I am not viably aware I am dreaming.) I repeat “cuando” several times, as a question. They only shrug and smile.

      There is an area where a doorway is too narrow to go through. I do something to where we continue from near the right of it, though it does not make any sense. It seems as if I somehow moved the doorway itself by “sliding” it with my hand.

      From here, I am riding in a van, on the front passenger side, on the right (implying America). The driver of this van is riding a motorcycle a car length ahead of the van (which makes no sense at all, but this is how it is experienced).

      The port authorities are now following us. Because we had gone through the restricted area that held refugees, we are to be captured and shot, no matter where we decide to go or live. The man on the motorcycle is shot once and splits into several pieces, rolling over the road, the van I am in continuing to apparently drive itself. I do not feel very emotional.

      After traveling a long distance, miles away from the Loomis Street house’s backyard, I find myself back on Loomis Street, in the Loomis Street house’s kitchen (likely due to mild hunger in sleep). Of course, this makes no sense either.

      I am presumably the last one of my group left. I now have a very vague emergent awareness of relatives having lived on Loomis Street years ago, though no current conscious self identity. An unknown male comes into the kitchen from the south room to shoot me. I decide that this is RAS mediation (even though I am not lucid) and that he is the preconscious factor and thus I shoot him first and then soon wake. I will not tolerate being victimized in my own dream, even when there is no viable thread of current conscious self identity.


    5. Robbery and Running and Preconscious Distraction

      by , 09-11-2017 at 10:40 AM
      Morning of September 11, 2017. Monday.



      I am walking with two unknown males, a situation of which continued from a very long previous dream sequence. I think about robbing a place, but the details are not clear yet. I eventually realize that I am carrying a Glock pistol. Soon, I “realize” that I am a black female of perhaps about twenty-five years old.

      It seems late at night. I go into a small trailer park in an open field where a dense forest is to my left. An unknown black female, but of whom is apparently known to the character I presently am, complains about me being there to rob her again (though I do not recall any backstory for this). Other than that, she does not seem alarmed by my gun. She opens a couple drawers in a large chest of drawers in her trailer. There is a bundle of one-hundred-dollar bills in an even stack, partly wrapped in cellophane. There is also a roll of fifty-dollar bills held together with a rubber band. There are also numerous rolls of coins. I tell her to keep some of the money, including the roll of fifties, but she insists that I take all of it. I put everything in two bags. There are several other items besides the American money, including bottles of perfume and shampoo and small items of clothing. I leave the trailer park, walking briskly east. I see a couple others outside of their trailers on my right, one an older black male of about sixty.

      Somehow, it is suddenly daylight now, possibly early afternoon. I am with two unknown Caucasian males (though one reminds me vaguely of Don K from the early 1980s). I am seemingly now a male character, though not fully myself and perhaps about twenty years old. We seem to be going west on Sill Street, having gone past Wood Street and possibly Kane Street. I decide to toss my gun on the ground near the intersection near the trunk of a tree so I am not armed if caught (thinking I would be in less trouble). Still, I consider that may not be a good idea as a child might find it. The others and I continue, but eventually turn right to go north. I continue to carry my two bags.

      We seem happy until one of the males looks back and sees another male who apparently knows us. It may be that he will cause trouble or at least be annoying if he sees us and catches up with us. The male who recognizes this other male tells us all to go our separate ways. “I have to try to wake him up,” he says in an authoritative tone. He goes across the front lawns of a few houses on the right side of the street and I am still following him, unsure of the situation. He yells with frustration and waves me off, indicating to me not to follow him. The male who had been behind us is apparently sleepwalking. He has long black hair and a long black beard and has on blue jeans but no shoes, socks, or shirt. He starts cheerfully talking to the male that seems to know who he is. “I can’t understand anything you’re saying,” the sleepwalking male is told, “You’re speaking gibberish”.

      I continue to go north a short distance, but then turn around to go through a very narrow residential alley back southward. I am slightly concerned that I might annoy people by going through or close to their backyards but I do not see anyone. At the end of the alley are two closed chain-link gates about chest-high, side by side. Each of the two gates is for a different house, which makes no sense, as the alley goes past all houses on the block and the gates are adjacent to the public sidewalk. Before I get to them, I have to climb quickly up over a couple large full garbage bags and some other objects. At first, I think the gates might be locked, but I am able to open them by turning a horizontal L-shaped bolt lock. The detail is very vivid and realistic in appearance (but unlike any setting I had ever seen in real life). The sense of physical momentum and touch is vivid as well.

      A few police officers approach me and look in my bags and ask me where I am going. I see that there are a lot of rolls of coins in them. I insist that everything is mine, but they seem condescending. While pretending that I am totally innocent, I am eventually able to get away. One policewoman seems to think I am okay and seems to see me as being victimized by the other officers. However, a chubby male officer seems determined that I will be caught again and found to have robbed someone, or possibly a bank.

      I somehow end up going through the second floor of a business building. There are a few times when I fly after getting outside again, but I end up walking again, as my two bags are heavy. I somehow end up back near Sill and Kane and recall how I had deliberately thrown my gun there (at the northeast corner) but I do not see it. It is daylight at this time.

      I am now briskly walking south through the north side of La Crosse (except that it looks more like the south side) and it seems to be night once again. I somehow have my gun again without contemplating that I had gotten rid of it. I am the black female character again. I make sure my gun is holstered in the front of my pants and unseen. I am thinking of finding the Loomis Street house to hide out even though that does not make sense as I am supposedly someone else. I vaguely recall that my sister had died but that my brother-in-law may be there (though they had actually moved prior to my sister’s death, though I was living in Australia by that time). I continue to carry the two cloth bags of money and other items, one in each hand. I notice that about eight people are running towards me, though not directly towards me. I think they may have attempted to rob a closed business but none of them are carrying anything. Police cars go by but they curiously do not stop. (The scene of these looters, including their appearance, was very similar to something I did not know about until after this dream and seeing it on the news, so I am considering this part as prescient.)

      I cross the street (which may be a distorted version of Loomis Street, though too commercial) to my right and turn right down a very narrow alley with tall commercial buildings on each side. The alley is not wide enough for a car to follow me through and is at least two city blocks long. However, nearing the opening ahead, I see a puff of smoke going past the edge of a building on the left side of the end of the alley at about head level. It is the chubby policeman, who is smoking a cigarette, who had vowed to catch me. I knock him in the head with my heavy bags and knock him over. The police woman, who seems to be on my side, is possibly going to help me escape now.



      The preconscious modelling itself artificially, or mimicking itself, in needing to wake another dream character (instead of me) is about as surreal and unusual as it gets (even stranger than a false awakening where I am writing down or telling someone about my previous dream). The threads of my dream self identity changing a few times (without any focus on that dynamic) is rather odd as well.


    6. A Very Illogical Police Stakeout

      by , 08-30-2017 at 01:16 PM
      Morning of August 30, 2017. Wednesday.



      My dream’s setting is a unique composite as always. (I have never non-lucidly dreamt of the same setting more than once, even in tens of thousands of closely studied and fully mapped non-lucid dreams for over fifty years. This aspect of non-lucid dreams is due to the incidental real-time dynamics of being in non-lucid REM sleep, where reflective cognitive capabilities do not exist as in lucid dreams and even more so in apex lucidity where automatic conscious control of the dream state is achieved.)

      The back area of our house is modeled after our present home, (our backyard south of our house), except that the area between the short hallway to the back door and the minimally-rendered kitchen has no dividing layout (and is all an open area). The implied east side of this rendering (assuming our present home) is loosely modeled after the north side of a previous home on Stadcor Street in Brisbane (though the driveway more like the Gellibrand Street apartment in Clayfield), the third-from-last house we lived in. The front of my dream’s house, implied to be oriented northerly, is modeled more accurately after the west area of the Stadcor Street house, which was also the front of that house.

      For several minutes, my dream features the recurring event of me taking supposed public money out of a device in our home (that is, a device in our home which is apparently used by the public and the money going elsewhere, which makes no sense from a waking life standpoint, especially as the public would not otherwise have use of our home, the only way to explain this being real-time symbolism related to receiving thoughts from other people via the collective unconscious which was validated long ago from “receiving” from Zsuzsanna long before we met in reality). There is no backstory on what purpose the device serves. It may be some sort of unlikely vending machine (though is too small to serve that purpose). The device is about the length of my hand and looks like a miniature vertically elongated cash register. Zsuzsanna is present and so is Marilyn (older half-sister on my Mother’s side who died in 2014, though I have no memory of her death here and she appears as she was in the 1980s). I make three attempts to get money out. My second and third attempts make no sense as I had already gotten all the coins out in the first attempt, by shaking the device upside-down, yet many more come out on my second and third attempts. The sound of the clinking coins, the movement and momentum of my hands, and the movement of the internal parts of the device are rendered very realistically.

      I am eventually aware of a police presence in our backyard. There are at least seven officers standing around on stakeout, though not for us, but a criminal who lives in the area. Still, I am concerned they might see the various coins lying everywhere on the floor. I make a quick attempt to kick sheets of paper and parts of clothes over them. I also slip some into my left pocket. They ask me through the back door if I know a certain man or had seen them and I say no. (I do not recall the name though I know it did not sound familiar.)

      At one point, I notice that an unfamiliar female police officer is closest to our house. I also notice that the screen is torn down the middle from the top of the screen door, about three-quarters of the way down. (though we do not have a back screen door in reality.) She pushes it towards me from outside as if to draw more attention to it, almost slapping me in the face with it, but not intentionally. There is an additional partial horizontal tear in the screen (lower down) of less significance and which seems to have already been there for a long time, but this vertical tear was apparently done recently by the authorities, supposedly for my benefit and theirs regarding their stakeout. I find it puzzling but I do not comment. In a short time, my brother-in-law Bob makes his first appearance in this dream (mostly as he appeared in the 1980s). From the left side of the solid wooden back door, he closes it over the screen door (and it closes from the opposite side as in reality). “This door can be closed,” he says cheerfully though informatively. I question if his act is thought out very well, but I do not comment.

      In the next scene, I am going to the front of our house. Off to my right, through the windows of the adjoining room I am walking through, the criminal first makes his presence known. He drives rapidly (north based on our present home) over our driveway, the car’s tires loudly crunching and spitting gravel and dust (the driveway of which our present home does not have as such, as it is just a very narrow side yard in reality, though, as mentioned in the second paragraph, this seems based on dynamics of when we lived in Clayfield on Gellibrand Street despite the room being like the one on Stadcor Street, though my dream’s house is at about ground level, unlike in reality for all three locations). This event makes no sense at all, as he is suddenly driving rapidly from our backyard, directly from where several police officers had just been standing. I wonder if they even noticed he was there.

      In the front room of our house (which again, is now of the Stadcor Street house) I look out the front windows. Our front doors (screen door and main door) are both open. The criminal has come up our high front steps (despite our house being implied to be low-set a couple minutes previously) and I politely nod “hello” to him through the doorway even though I do not want his imposition. He has a scruffy beard and light red hair. I eventually notice that he is coming in and there are at least two females with him, one pregnant, though otherwise very slim and wearing tight clothes (this character being directly modeled after a contestant on the Australian “Family Feud” game show very recently).

      I suddenly change my mind about welcoming him (which is based on a subliminal desire to sleep longer) and now I am not even sure what good the police presence is doing. I boldly tell him to get out. He becomes very angry. I notice that he is carrying some sort of rifle of illogical appearance. Instead of doing anything to me from near the doorway or even approaching me, he leaves the house to go into the street and starts shooting at our house. The noise is very loud and puffs of white smoke (dream state indicator) are floating everywhere like little clouds (this scene partly as a result of real-life environmental noise). I head towards the back of the house, which once again is more like our present home.

      As illogically large bullets are now firing through the walls of our house from the front and the back, the female police officer (still near the back door) advises me to get down. I get down on the floor and wake up in the exact same position I had just been in my dream. I then realize that the police officer seemed modeled after an additional young version of Zsuzsanna.



      This dream entry is probably too long to include a full decoding, but I will note a few details. Emergent consciousness and preconscious factors seem to be “after” each other here and I am (as my personified subconscious which again has no reflective cognitive capabilities despite the bizarre but popular disinformation) caught in the middle, which is amusing, but very atypical, though we did watch two episodes of “Cops” just before sleeping (though this is probably also related to news about North Korea, hopefully not prescient). The torn screen of the back door is a known dream state indicator, which represents a growing metaphorical opening that otherwise divides preconscious from emergent consciousness as a “screen”, though this is more about Zsuzsanna’s emergent consciousness “sending” to mine in real time. (As such, I am surprised that I did not become viably lucid, especially at least semi-lucid, though my dream did noticeably vivify past this point.)


      Updated 08-30-2017 at 01:18 PM by 1390

      Categories
      non-lucid
    7. Malice in Wanderland

      by , 06-07-2017 at 07:15 AM
      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.
    8. A Form of Unintended Disclosure

      by , 01-25-2014 at 06:02 AM
      Morning of January 25, 2014. Saturday.



      All of the information the government has been keeping on various people as well as other information (in the United States for the most part) about the government itself and its stealthy activities as well somehow accidentally ends up in full in various sources including the Internet, magazines, and generic newspaper advertisements. This is based only on one or two errors made by government, I think. I get an impression of being back in seventh grade at one point.

      In my dream, I had carried a snub-nosed revolver everywhere (including in middle school). There is a point where, even though I am at the entrance to the middle school, there are a lot of people walking about, mostly older women, as if it was a shopping mall. I tell them about the disclosure that is occurring. I decide it is best to avoid people during the time they are learning the truth about their government - things which I apparently knew all my life. Somehow, I eventually have a flintlock pistol which is only a type of large cap gun or replica (with the barrel completely evenly sealed over in the front with black metal or plastic painted a metallic black). It is some sort of composite real-life memory of a real matte-black snub-nosed revolver, a silver six shooter revolver (I used mostly blanks in it and eventually ruined it - I think the blank caliber was too big or simply unsuitable or perhaps too cheap) and a flintlock cap pistol I had when younger. I am aware that the simulated “wooden” handle of the flintlock is actually only plastic and have a vague lucidity that I want it to be real wood as if I could force other people to see it as real wood (even though I am not fully lucid - otherwise I would just will it to become real wood). I am also trying to present it as a real gun on a special day when everyone is allowed to bring his firearms to school (including rifles) so that people can share information. It is fairly large for a flintlock and the teacher, thinking it is real, enjoys the balance and weight of it.

      My sister Marilyn is in my dream, talking about the riddles and short jokes, one each on the back of a cap, which appears in the form of a large sheet (like postage stamps) rather than a roll, so that they have to be torn off to use individually. She is saying how she does not understand any of the jokes or riddles and gives a few examples (which I cannot quite remember). I make fun of them as well and tell two supposed riddles, but by example (in my dream) only. I say, “why is a cat like a match” with the answer being “they both scratch” (which is not really funny to me) and “why did the cat not use the match” with the answer being “because it’s a cat” (which makes even less sense). My sister seems fairly healthy and alert in my dream.

      I am playing around with the large cap pistol flintlock by stacking about four or five caps directly under the hammer with a few attached to the ones in the stack. When I pull the trigger, the whole top of the gun catches on fire, partly caused by some burning of the additional caps partly hanging down the side, but I blow it out fairly easily. It seems amusing and I realize no stack of caps would be high enough to really do much.
      Tags: conspiracy, fire, gun
      Categories
      Uncategorized
    9. Taking a Chip from a Government UFO

      by , 04-08-2013 at 10:08 AM
      Morning of April 8, 2013. Monday.



      I am walking through an unfamiliar area near a woods on the edge of a small town. I am with a stranger that reminds me of Harrison Ford, but there are a few other people in the area, including Carol (an older half-sister on my mother’s side).

      I notice some jets flying overhead, as well as a small UFO, which looks like some sort of very unusual jet.

      I point out the strange maneuvers and flight paths of the aircraft as they turn to one side, go around a tree, and come back again. I cheerfully expect them all to crash and my anticipation and confidence grows that they will. One soon crashes in the far distance, causing an explosion and resulting fire.

      The UFO (which I actually suspect to be some sort of small military aircraft) comes very close to us, but there is no threat. It continues just past us, crashing to the ground and sliding slightly. It is not very big, the main section not much bigger than a metal garbage can lid, but it does have small jet-like wings.

      I am able to understand that it has a computer chip in a particular location. I walk up to it (it is mostly still in one piece and of course had been unmanned - in fact, too small to carry much weight) and reach down (there is still a bit of fire and smoke near some parts of it), and pull out a computer chip that slides out and is about the size of a stick of gum, although thicker.

      We walk to other areas. I am happy I have the chip, but we need to stay away from government or military areas. Somehow, though, we are near Area 51, but it is in an urban area in my dream and thus not really isolated. The UFO conspiracy theorists that try to get in are said to be “missing a week” by other people; something to do with 52 weeks in a year and Area 51, “missing a week” being an expression for a person who believes in aliens and is “not all there”.

      Each UFO is a result of the government activity in the region and their controlling of agriculture. The chip I have was made to release harmful chemicals over certain fields to destroy certain crops as well as fertilize and help certain others, thus interfering with the livelihood of certain farmers in the region.

      I notice a group of about five military police of various ages who are annoying an innocent family at a farm when I go in, but I remain unsure why the military are present. The family is sitting at a kitchen table not having done anything wrong, and I am aware of the misguided bullying of the MPs. One young man pulls out a matte black gun for no reason and points it at a dark-haired girl. I take out a screwdriver with a partially transparent orange handle (seemingly my weapon of choice in recent dreams) and hit him fairly lightly on the top of the head with the handle, making a strange hollow metallic sound that is almost musical, with a sort of organ-like tonal delay and even a chorus effect in the 440 Hz range. He immediately falls unconscious, sprawled on the floor near the corner of the table by his intended victim.

      The other military officers do not even seem to notice and casually go on with their business elsewhere, ignoring their man lying on the floor.

      I notice that the lid can be slid back from the chip on one side, and I see that there are tiny smooth and oval radioactive stones of two sizes in an alternating larger stone and smaller stone geometrical pattern in three or four rows. There is more talk on how the government is using UFOs, which are small unmanned jets of a similar shape as the original Romulan Bird-of-Prey design. I had a model of one as a child, having gotten it for Christmas.



      There was minor prescience as is often the case, but relating to something Zsuzsanna had heard. A woman came up to her (a local who has a house full of cats, believing it is her duty to take in every stray). The woman made a comment about how she liked the name Gabrielle (without knowing it was Zsuzsanna’s middle name), mostly in reference to another name that was not really similar. She then made a bizarre comment about the ground being poisoned. I think it was around the same time I was writing this entry.


      Updated 04-05-2018 at 06:58 AM by 1390

      Tags: gun, jets, spacecraft, ufo
      Categories
      non-lucid