Blue_Opossum

Morning of December 10, 2017. Sunday.



Dream Series: The Experience of Prescience, the Inexplicable Dream State Phenomenon. Part 8

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I find myself in an unknown setting, apparently participating in some sort of treasure hunt, though relating to the backstory, we are already in the area where the treasure is. Curiously, my mother-in-law is present without any association with conflict. Zsuzsanna and our children are also present as well as at least one unknown male.

There is some sort of movie, though more like a slideshow, shown near one of the areas where treasure is stored. It is apparently of Vasco da Gama, though there are several other explorers and natives in very unusual outfits, each unique. One native has some sort of fancy oval and horizontally-striped shield over the front of his body, yet the imagery is rather sketchy and surreal.

Over time, I marvel at the beauty of the various stones we find. They are divided into particular kinds, piled into kitchen cabinets, both at floor level and three-tiers from the ceiling. I do not yet see this as odd even though it is implied to be some sort of cave that has not been known of or explored since the 1500s.

The cabinets are along two walls that meet. I find a group of blue and white stones that are presumably called “ice”. I find a bag on a shelf above these stones that reads “ice”. I am somewhat puzzled by the name, though only with a vague recall of ice being frozen water.

At this point, I finally start to realize the error of my dream’s implications. I tell the others that this place could not have existed in the 1500s as the cabinets all look new and the design is modern. I find an unknown plastic object in the cabinet where the transparent bag that says “ice” on it is found. I say, “This could not be from the 1500s”. It is circular, possibly a piece of a sieve. I then say, “These are like kitchen cabinets. They could not have been made that long ago.”

It seems more like the large kitchen of an unfamiliar house.

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I do not really see the point, but this dream turned out to be precisely precognitive as many dreams are relating to a specific thread with too much visual detail to be coincidence. Zsuzsanna’s sister had brought a bag of ice around today, identical to that of my dream (of a kind I had never seen before otherwise), and with no way of either of us expecting this. In fact, the very idea of this would have been otherwise absurd, especially as our freezer is nearly too full to even hold it. Some precognition is more so because of telepathy (for lack of a better word), but I have wondered since childhood about the specific nature and patterns that are more likely to be “sent”. Still, it is the most unusual and unlikely events that have more of a precognitive presence in my dreams.

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Morning of April 28, 2014. Monday.



There are three dreams in which there are no seriously more unusual or bizarre aspects as is sometimes the case. Still, they all take place in “wrong” locations relative to now as well as where people had actually been in the past in some cases.

In one, my wife and I are living back at Clayfield in our first apartment. There are a few mixed stacks of mostly plastic-coated place mats, photographs, and maps (I think more place mats than anything else). There are so many, I put some under the bed to go through later. My wife has a stack of smaller “screens” (tapestry canvases) for craft work of some kind. I do not want to get everything mixed up, but technically, it already is. The photographs, mostly black and white, seem to show scenes of people standing around in urban areas; mostly city sidewalks, from possibly New York in the 1930s. The place mats have a slightly different image on each one, but which appears to be the deck of a pirate ship in most cases with not that many features other than a row of small cannons on some. My wife goes out into the hallway from the kitchen and I start calling her because I am concerned about the strange people in the other apartments. I yell fairly loud but am not sure if she hears me.

Another dream involves some sort of video conference with my brother in the USA (Dennis). At the same time as the video conference, which seems related to some sort of party or holiday celebration, he is sending questions that seem of a forum thread in structure, but answering them himself (instead of allowing the others to) with various rude comments. Instead of computer print, however, it seems to appear more like handwriting. People in my wife’s family and their spouses are the ones at the actual location. We are at Clayfield again. The main scene involves a couple girls standing around talking (Bonnie and Kathy, I think). They have stringed wooden beads hanging all about their hair and when they nod or turn their head, there is a loud clacking noise.

In the final dream, my wife and I are living on Loomis Street (in my sister’s old house) though she has never been to the USA. We are having a nice evening, but then all the lights suddenly go off, which seems a bit ominous (rather than just being like a common power outage). I get the idea that it may be because someone cut off our power so that they could then rob us (assuming that there was a burglar alarm, as well as the dark disorienting us - but realistically, we would know our way around in our own house far more than a burglar, especially in the dark). I check outside and someone with an axe appears near the front door. Somehow, I manage to get the axe and keep swinging at “him” (I assume). However, I use the blunt back of the axe so that I do not accidentally chop his head off. Most of the time I miss his head, but he still just stands there. Eventually, uninjured, he seemingly goes to rob the house next door and seems to have the axe back again somehow.

A little later (I think there is some sort of distorted or incongruous “reset” at this point), I look south to the house next door and see someone walking around in the small front yard, which I believe is the same person. The person comes back over to our house and I feel there may be more trouble. My wife is calling the police at this point. It seems to be a younger slightly chubby male with short reddish hair and freckles. However, the person eventually seems to be Karen S (but thirty years or more younger, possibly only from about fifteen to eighteen or so, I am not sure) with rather short hair, who supposedly lives there with her parents (and I assume, her younger brother). In reality, she had never been to Wisconsin let alone lived in that house. The lights are on next door in every room (but I am not sure anyone had been home due to Karen needing to break into the place), so I know our power is off either on purpose or by a blown fuse. It seems strange because the person originally seemed taller than me and slightly muscular, but Karen is actually much shorter than average. She had been carrying a large axe, but does not seem threatening for the most part.

I find out (from her claims) that Karen had been supposedly trying to get into her house through some odd means that is not that clear or does not make much sense, as she said she had lost her keys; something about turning off an alarm and then getting in by breaking a window, but I am not quite sure why our electricity was cut off. Also, she was mostly just standing around or pacing about in the front yard and not seeming to attempt to actually get in that house in any way (being mostly only in the area between the sidewalk and house and never near the front door itself). She is seated on her knees on the floor near our front door and I tell my wife to tell the police that they do not have to come to the house (and somehow I hear the officer talking loudly and clearly over the telephone and seeming annoyed), but for some reason, Karen wants to be arrested, which makes no sense. She is talking about “losing her graffiti” and cries a bit about the wrong things she has done and how no one ever cared about her as she was growing up and going to school, which seems an excuse to be (or pointlessly act like) a juvenile delinquent. (None of this relates to anything real in any way, including any event in the past.) I try to make her less worried, but she insists on being “difficult” - and she says that she deserves all the trouble because of losing her keys and more to do with graffiti. (I get the impression that she is a graffiti artist, which almost seems like a high school class or college course at that point.) Time passes, and the police never show up. I look out into the streets a few times. Everything is dark and quiet.