• Lucid Dreaming - Dream Views




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    1. Almost Superman

      by , 09-29-2018 at 08:08 AM
      Morning of September 28, 2018. Friday.

      Reading time (optimized): 3 min. Readability score: 54.



      The library setting is where my conscious self identity, as in waking life, often carries and holds my dream self in an attempt to hold dynamics of intelligence and memory that typically cease to exist in non-lucid dream states, as the non-lucid subconscious and its personification as the dreamer has no viable connection to the unconscious mind or real life. Since early childhood, I have often tried to manifest books or something to read to bring about viably lucid threads of the emerging consciousness, which sometimes works to vivify my dream self’s status, but in this case, it is only the library with no focus on any specific book.

      The otherwise unfamiliar library is close to my conscious self awareness but without viable lucidity or conscious self identity. (I do not know the implied country of its location.) My dream self is aware that I am asleep and dreaming, but it is a subliminal factor, that is, my dream self and conscious self have not coalesced. Physicality and tangibility still increase significantly. I am aware of the preconscious avatar sitting to my right and reading a book in the passive monitoring of my dream self’s status. It is an unfamiliar man of about fifty. I become more annoyed, as he is crowding me. I continue to maintain my focus of sleeping on my left side, as I am in reality. My dream continues to vivify. It is all thought and physicality. There has been no imagery yet.

      Finally, my dream self achieves the mode of non-lucid dream control, established by the essence of the library, but without my conscious self identity. Vestibular system correlation commences, and I have thoughts of being a superhero. I fly around for a time as I usually do with this primary dream state factor. Despite not being lucid, I am familiar with the nature of creating and controlling my experience.

      I consider that I am Superman, but not “the” Superman. At one point, I decide to have a blue cape rather than a red one. Eventually, I also see that I am wearing slacks and have mismatched socks. I have a blue sock on my left foot and a white sock on my right. I mentally will the bottom of my pants legs to tighten, grow longer and cover my feet, more so from the idea that superheroes do not wear regular pants. Despite having willed my cape to appear and eventually changing its color, I do not contemplate changing either of my socks’ colors.

      In my dream’s final scene, I walk inside an area in the afternoon where a chain-link fence, of about ten feet in height, encloses an unknown warehouse. It turns at ninety degrees to match its adjacency to the building’s outer wall. There does not appear to be an exit on that side. (A fence of this nature is the synchronous division between the dream self and the conscious self and the subliminal distinction between the illusory physicality of the dream self’s fictitious body and the status of the real physical body in REM sleep.) The space is narrow. Still, I stop two criminals, both unfamiliar men, from stealing a device relating to communications technology. This scenario is the typical precursory RAS modulation and ultradian rhythm correlation, its rendering for curbing potential unchecked sustainment of the dream state, more so as a concurrent REM sleep safeguard than having anything to do with real life.

      I carry the device back around the corner (RAS mediation) to see the owners of the warehouse. Even though the avatars are standing on each side of me and all can see, I have to describe what one criminal looks like to one of the warehouse owners. The avatars to my left are potential dream state revivifiers (I sleep on my left side), whereby the ones on the right are active preconscious (and possibly interconsciousness) threads. The communications device, which resembles a small shortwave radio, merges and coalesces with my dream self and subliminal conscious self identity, and I wake as a result.



      Additional notes: Mismatched socks represent the distinction between the fictitious dream self and the conscious self identity. It is one of those renderings that have occurred since early childhood in all modes (subliminal, liminal, and lucid) of the dream self. In lucidity, I am aware of the meaning, as I am aware of the dreaming and waking processes and how specific patterns manifest. It is not “symbolism” in the conventional sense as many people believe.


    2. A Sister is Alive Again

      by , 08-03-2018 at 09:46 AM
      Morning of August 3, 2018. Friday.

      Reading time: 2 min 37 sec. Readability score: 75.



      I find myself in a big, unfamiliar library that is part of a school building. It is seemingly the end of a school day. A female is present. She may be a teacher. It seems that most people have left. I am asked to clean up, as no one else is going to. I go through the aisles to pick up blankets and bed sheets (without questioning why these items would be “left behind” in a library). I also find a few towels. There are also several pairs of gloves, one pair that I believe is mine, so I put them on. There is also a winter jacket. From here, I decide that I will fly to the north side of La Crosse.

      I am soon at the Loomis Street house. My brother-in-law Bob seems happy. He appears as he did in the 1980s. A boy is present that is theirs. I falsely remember that they had a child of about eight years old. Bob tells me that another boy was born recently. I ask him whose child this is, as my older sister Marilyn had died. It turns out that she was brought back to life by a business that offers this service. She comes into the house and seems as she was in the 1960s.

      The house now seems like an ambiguous mix of the Loomis Street house (in America) and the Gellibrand Street apartment in Australia. A bed is in a similar orientation as it was in the Gellibrand Street place, where we lived when our oldest son was a baby.

      Marilyn seems happy. The baby is on the bed and has a strange appearance, a big head, and a thin, wiry body. It is only a few days old. It is speaking coherently with a curious metallic echoing. The words are soft. I do not recall what he said.

      I ask about Cindy, my brother Earl’s wife. She was brought back as well. Bob says that she has “a hundred years left (to live).” Curiously, I have no memory of Earl (who had also died in real life).

      Later, Marilyn and I are talking about all the puzzle books she had given me, mostly from the 1950s, 1960s, and 1970s, the majority of them Dell. (This was a real-life event.) They were in a big cardboard box. We talk cheerfully about difficult cryptic crossword puzzles. The harder ones are left for me to solve.



      My dream self recalls that Marilyn had died, but also with the false memory she had one child that would now be about eight (though she would be far too old for this to be true). I remember my sister-in-law, but not my brother. I do not recall my current life status, yet the Loomis Street house (America) mixes with where Zsuzsanna and I lived years ago, which means a part of my conscious self identity is subliminally present. Dreams are a fascinating comedy of errors sometimes.

      The last part (waking process rather than dream revivification) is from a trigger I developed in childhood, to make a dream more vivid and coherent by giving myself reading tasks or focusing on books or writing (though I also used coins for this), though now I mostly use computer associations. (An odd result of that is how computer technology is often on notebook paper in my dreams.) The association with solving puzzles also directly relates to the middle of the waking process, between the fictitious dream self and emerging consciousness identity.

      The library trigger “failed,” but still displayed dream state indicators (bed sheets and blankets in the aisles), though the usual vestibular system correlation (flying in this case) was present. I put on gloves to mask my conscious self identity and physicality. It shows that I was in non-lucid control of my dream (as is most often the case) but with odd results and the usual dream state amnesia when non-lucid.


      Tags: flying, library
      Categories
      non-lucid
    3. A Strange Name

      by , 04-25-2018 at 06:37 AM
      Morning of April 25, 2018. Wednesday.



      In this brief waking dream, I am in an unknown library. A very vivid voice mentions “Shirley Holmes” at the end of a phrase. I believe it relates to appreciation of a book. I consider how it is a play on “Sherlock Holmes”. However, I soon consider that it may be dream state distortion implied to suggest “surely homes”, but I do not see it as having potential meaning other than being happy at home based on the tone of the voice.

      It turns out that there actually is a Shirley Holmes character of which I am certain I had not known of before, or at least never gave any notice to (though again, I am quite certain that I would have remembered a play on “Sherlock Holmes” as such). Even so, the detective essence is a recurring factor of being in liminal space, which represents the enigma of being between identities, dream self and conscious self. This has been a factor since very early childhood.



      Quick update: As usual, this dream seemingly came partly from content from what Zsuzsanna had been thinking earlier, with no way of me knowing. She had seen a game show that focused on Sherlock Holmes. This happens continuously, but I often do not go back to edit the entry.


      Updated 05-03-2018 at 04:37 AM by 1390

      Categories
      lucid
    4. Annoyance in the Library

      by , 08-20-2017 at 10:38 AM
      Morning of August 20, 2017. Sunday.



      In my dream, there is an unfamiliar library I go to, which takes the place of where the King Cinema had been in real life. I am also living at the King Street mansion (boarding house) not as I was years ago in reality, but with my family as we appear now.

      My dream starts with me leaving the apartment. I walk westerly down King Street. The library is only a few blocks away. I am carrying, in a backpack, a computer keyboard, a flat monitor, and two small unknown devices (each about the size of an iPhone but thicker and one with a curved bottom) related to computer technology which apparently store data and may be additionally used for other purposes.

      In the library, I delete a list of URLs, one at a time, from one device for the purpose of clearing memory. I sit at a small table near the left end of one row of shelves. I do not question why the computer keyboard and monitor are all I have (with the two other small devices) to apparently do some work on my computer.

      Water begins to drip from various areas of the library’s ceiling. I become annoyed, because one of the devices I am looking at goes blank and the screen is apparently ruined by water. An unfamiliar young female librarian assures me that it will work normally again when it dries. She pushes against me a bit from behind and I am slightly annoyed by this, as it makes it more difficult to type freely.

      It starts to rain more and more inside the library. I tell them that buildings in Australia sure leak a lot, adding how where my family lives now has leaks, a few near the foot of our bed. I compare them to the houses I lived in in America. This is very flawed dream-self memory as usual, as the setting is implied to be in America. Somehow, even though I perceive that I “still” live in America on King Street, I am also seemingly aware of where we live now (in referring to the leaks in our present home). There is no way to consciously resolve this distortion, as, when I leave the library near the end of my dream, I am walking easterly back towards the King Street mansion (in America) in the rain, yet with the feeling I am in Australia. There is no aspect of bilocation of the two buildings, so it is just some sort of oddly skewed parallel thinking that only the dream self can maintain.

      I decide to move to another location and sit down on the floor in an informal meditation position. It is closer to one corner near the main entrance. There is a male to my right who reminds me of classmate Bill W. All three of my devices with screens eventually become ruined. Bill talks to me a bit about some sort of research. Several other people are around, a few even reading books in the indoor rain.

      I rub the surface of one of the devices. The screen is more like transparent glass by this point. Inside the device, which seems somewhat hollow, I see pieces of leaves and a few small stones and sand that I consider somehow got inside over the past few minutes. I am annoyed that I will apparently have to buy new computer devices.

      I realize that, even though I am wearing a long-sleeved sweater (which goes down a bit below my waist), I do not have any pants on. I also have no shoes and am only wearing dark socks. The fact I do not have shoes annoys me more than not having any pants on, since I do not like the idea of walking on a cold wet granular sidewalk with only socks on. I ask Bill if I had come into the library with shoes on, though he seems not to know, and I am uncertain if I did.

      Eventually, I leave the library to go home. I am firstly walking, then I start running in an exaggerated manner. My “running” becomes stranger, similar to the movement of The Spirit in the 2008 movie when he runs on the telephone wires. (We saw this movie just prior to my dream.) It feels like I am kicking sand out from the back of my feet as I am oddly moving along. Eventually, I reach the King Street boarding house, and there are some more dream elements, though which become abstract.



      Raining indoors is a sort of forced symbolism based on the dream state itself, biologically related to a process that occurs during sleep (which I have described more fully in other entries). The library represents potential for conscious self awareness (and critical thinking skills), but the circadian rhythms factor holds my dream in the deeper phase. Being undressed in public, which is a subliminal dream-state indicator (as I do not wear clothes when sleeping) has rarely bothered me. (In fact, I am more embarrassed in some dreams when wearing clothes, as in real life, I do not like to be seen as wearing clothes in bed.) It is no coincidence that I am often undressed in public in a library, as these are two common dream-state indicators (dream signs) for me, especially as in sensual lucid dreams, when I deliberately initiate this situation. (This is additionally validated by the library being where the movie theater was in real life, a movie theater otherwise symbolizing subliminal acknowledgement of the dream state.) The association with “The Spirit” movie, where he runs on telephone wires, even though I am on the sidewalk in my dream, is based on increasing neural energy and communication between different layers of consciousness during the waking transition.


    5. Flying to a Library as Casper the Friendly Ghost

      by , 06-21-2017 at 10:26 AM
      Morning of June 21, 2017. Wednesday.



      I am in my bedroom in Cubitis (where I have not been in real life since the summer of 1978). There is not much furniture present other than a bed. My room is full of very shiny small gold nuggets and gold dust with a few piles of gold coins. It seems to be nighttime.

      I do not consider that my bedroom being filled with gold all over the floor from wall to wall is unusual in any way. I also do not consider that it is unusual that I am Casper the Friendly Ghost, in cartoon form. Wendy the Good Little Witch is visiting. There is no direct association with humanity at all.

      Snorkledorf, the Freakies Cereal character, though not associated as such by my dream self, is approaching from the west. Wendy and I know that we are in danger. He will most certainly eat all my gold and then eat us. We decide to flee. Wendy and I fly northwest, and although I phase through the wall as I am flying because I am a ghost (though I often do this as my more conscious-self-based dream self), Wendy does as well, which puzzles me briefly. Perhaps she quickly used her magic wand. For a short time, I am thinking that she could turn Snorkledorf into something else, but that might not prove to be feasible.

      We both fly north now. The area is no longer like rural Cubitis but not like a city block, either. The houses are close together, the backs of the houses facing each other, with shared backyards (an interesting dream distortion). Somehow, the area seems familiar or at least “correct” to me (even though it is entirely unique) and I decide to fly to the library. Wendy is no longer with me. I get the idea that Snorkledorf might be able to track our direction using his sense of smell, but that concern fades.

      In the unfamiliar library, I am “myself” to some degree. That is, my dream self identity is now human but there are not many threads of my current conscious self identity, though I have no dream-self memory of having just been Casper the Friendly Ghost. I discern my fictional dream self as when I was around twenty-five (even though I had not been in Cubitis since age seventeen). I “know” that the library is north of my home in Cubitis, the other side of Highway Seventeen from where the plant nursery would have been in reality (as well as the opposite side of the highway as my home was). As usual, this is the first time this fictional layout has ever been rendered. There was no public library in Cubitis.

      I look westerly at a tall wooden magazine rack and see a variety of magazines and comic books. I think I might buy a book I see in about the center of the rack, which is a graphic novel of perhaps sixty-four pages, though it feels thicker when I stroke the slightly irregular spine with my right thumb and index finger. Even though I am not familiar with its content and it does not seem all that interesting, I decide I will buy it as I read the price on it as $1.13; a dollar and thirteen cents. My dream self does not consider that, being in a library and probably not part of an ongoing book sale (though there are book sales at our local library in real life), that I could not buy it even though I plan to.

      I turn around and lean down upon a heavy wooden table to read the book more closely. There are a few other people seated at it, including a very chubby short-haired unfamiliar male on my right (south) of about twenty. As I lean upon the table while turning a couple pages of the graphic novel, the heavy table begins to tip to the point where its top is almost diagonal to the floor.

      “I’m sorry,” I say to the small group of people, as I catch and pull the table back upright before it is fully on its side.

      “If you could harvest that energy, you could solve the global energy crisis,” the chubby male says formally but cheerfully. I wake.



      • The gold in my Cubitis bedroom uniquely symbolizes all my dreams that I had documented and decoded in my youth.
      • Snorkledorf in this case symbolizes so-called dream interpreters. They “eat” (read) someone else’s dream without knowing what a dream is (what gold is for). They “trumpet” (as does Snorkledorf) an irritating out-of-tune fallacious “interpretation” with no understanding of personal value or experience or true meaning.
      • Being Casper and flying is a waking symbolism precursor. Flying is the main anticipatory form of waking from a dream. Some “experts” believe this evolved from our ancestors falling out of trees while sleeping, but other “experts” have other theories, such as unconscious confusion of the physical body being horizontal in sleep while residual threads of the conscious self identity are rendered as upright in the dream state. I am more inclined to believe the second theory.
      • $1.13, the cover price of the graphic novel, relates to how long I had been sleeping, an hour and thirteen minutes, a format I picked up from watching the timer on our DVD player so many times over the years. The graphic novel itself symbolizes being in the dream state.
      • It is curious that the personified preconscious (though already coalescing into my emergent consciousness) said “harvest” instead of “harness”. (“Harvest” would imply getting electricity from plants, thus I suspect it means on one level that I should eat more green vegetables for more energy.)
      • Thinking that Wendy could transform Snorkledorf with her magic relates to a conversation Zsuzsanna and I had prior to my dream. Neither of us have any answers for what is really wrong with much of humanity, regardless of how many times we had discussed it. This also relates to a recent analogy I came up with. Being an Internet dream journalist with over fifty years of experience is like being a heart surgeon with a detailed personal diary and additional book on anatomy. In the night, a person comes in through the window and scribbles in the margins “explaining” how the human body is run on hamster wheels…



      Updated 06-21-2017 at 10:55 AM by 1390

      Categories
      non-lucid
    6. “Stealing” from the Preconscious with Telekinesis

      by , 06-19-2017 at 12:13 PM
      Morning of June 19, 2017. Monday.



      My dream starts out with my dream self (with at least some present conscious self identity threads, though not that many) being in an unfamliar library in semidarkness. I am aware of an unknown female (seemingly in her twenties) who had been looking over a number of supposedly ancient religious books with the hope of gaining some sort of understanding of her life as well as personal power. However, I am also aware that there is nothing here of any value for her when considering my own opinion of her activities. She does not seem to be aware of me at first. I assume that I am incorporeal at this time, though I am corporeal in the last part of my dream. Looking at the pages, they are singular lines of hieroglyphs rather than a discernible language, somewhat like small sketchy icons (a carryover from a couple previous recent dreams). It seems to be some sort of ambiguous distorted combination of Aztec, Olmec, and Buddhist cultures.

      In fact, there seems to be something in the back of my mind regarding this distortion, as some of the icons seem to represent Olmec colossal stone heads as well as Buddha heads and figures, yet there also seem to be some Aztec symbols. This reminds me of the New Age movement, primarily based on modern charlatanism and fallacious occult systems, which unrealistically combines anything and everything in an unlearned, unrelated, and wrongful sense (including all the fake products for gullible believers in the 1980s, such as free radical “guards” one wears, which only had internal circuity to make a small light bulb flash on and off to make it look like it was doing something). I begin to feel sorry for her, even though the books themselves may otherwise be of some historical significance.

      I end up sitting at a rectangular wooden table with her sitting across from me, as well as there being a presence of about six or seven other unknown people. A few of the additional people are at a table that is perpendicular to the one I am at.

      She is using a calculator for a reason unknown to me. Soon, I cause, via telekinesis, the calculator to rise into the air and come over into my raised hand. The others do not seem that surprised and she does not seem to object. She then has a fifty-dollar note in her right hand, which I do not clearly discern as either American or Australian (though it is more like an Australian fifty-dollar note relative to its darker golden color overall, though with no plastic or transparent content). She is holding it up as if ready to spend it on something (though this is not logical as we still seem to be in a library).

      I use telekinesis again to will it from her hand. However, it rips and she still has a large section of one corner between her fingers. Feeling slightly guilty about this, I try to unite the pieces back together with telekinesis and additional mental will. Even though the piece is eventually reattached, with associations of manipulating the resealing of the tear like a zipper, I cannot fully seal the tear on will alone, plus, the corner now seems slightly out from the rest of the bill and at an angle (This would not be possible in reality, as the area of the paper would require it to be of the exact shape when coming back together for the correct fit. It would not be possible for there to be a gap or extra paper beyond the perimeter implied as here, as the distorted trapezoidal upper right corner relative to the front of the bill now appears a bit bigger than it was). An unknown male at the other table “reminds” me that he had told me not to use telekinesis in this way (though I do not recall this actually having happened before).



      This dream utilizes subliminal lucidity. (Despite this, I am still technically the personified subconscious as I am not consciously aware of my conscious self identity and status.) This is evidenced by the fact that my conscious self certainly does not believe in telekinesis even though my silly dream self typically does and uses it effortlessly for the most part (more so in non-lucid dreams than lucid ones). Subliminal lucidity is one common factor that renders most forms of dream “interpretation” as pointless. If the fictional temporary dream self differs so much from the current conscious self and its present status, why would one assume there is significant relevance to the current conscious self (other than with literal precognitive threads, some of which are not revealed until many years after the dream). Although the manipulation of an object with telekinesis is technically a type of flight, I do not classify it as a third-level flight symbol unless more clearly defined or evidenced as such in my dream. It still seems to imply a factor of real-time dreaming and waking symbolism as in “not being fully grounded”.

      What is going on here is a very typical metaphorical biological “showdown” between my non-lucid dream self (aka personified subconscious) and the personified preconscious (which is often transpersonal and unrelated to the conscious self persona, and thus which I assume in some cases comes from the collective unconscious) of the type which I have experienced all my life since early childhood. I am taking from her, the symbolic form of my critical thinking skills (the calculator), which do not viably exist in the dream state, and thus I am initiating my own waking symbolism which is why the preconscious does not object (as its purpose is to either wake the dreamer or instigate emotional factors related to waking from the dream state out of biological necessity; for example, if you do not wake you go into a coma or die - it has baffled me since early childhood how so many people do not realize that this is one of the main functions of dreams, though unlike what some “experts” claim, not the only purpose). The inability to fully repair the fifty-dollar note may symbolize two completely different factors, the first relating to, in being in the waking transition, unable to subliminally reinduce the dream state (as I am not lucid), and two, being that fifty is near my age, may relate to the biological impossibility to completely restore my physical body to as it was in my youth. (The symbolic “pulling up of the zipper” in attempting to fix the note may also be a waking precursor simply related to getting up and getting dressed.)


    7. Building a Small Library within a Larger Library

      by , 05-09-2017 at 11:09 AM
      Morning of May 9, 2017. Tuesday.



      In the first part of my dream, I am in a large urban park. I am not sure of the implied location. It may be Brisbane. A very small library is being built near the center of the park. There are only a few people working on it, with one man doing the most work and checking of the structure. So far, only part of the foundation has been finished. It seems to be an ongoing design rather than any blueprints being used. I attain liminal dream control. That is, I know I can help in “magical” ways, yet with no knowledge of what a dream is.

      I have my wand with me. My wand has featured in many dreams throughout my life with this level of liminal dream control. It is some sort of device, implied to be of a very high technology, that does whatever I want.

      I ask about the concrete foundation. Apparently, there will be no set foundation deeper in the ground. In fact, later, there are wheels on each corner of the building, like those on a utility cart.

      One of the first things I do to help is cause paintings to appear (including a large one on what is implied to be used as part of the roof), as well as fix up the evenness of the coat of paint already present. It is some sort of large duck icon. (This is a form of subliminal re-induction as a duck is a water bird.) I move my wand over the surface and different colors automatically fall into place.

      Much of the building thus far is of a metal frame. It does not seem that stable. While the main male is on break and seems uncertain of how to proceed, I move my wand over the various screws and the frame becomes tighter and more stable, not wobbling hardly at all.

      My dream continues for a long time as I move my wand around the different areas for different purposes, with the focus of automatic perfection (a state of awareness in most wand dreams). At one point, the main male finally wants to check something based on blueprints but he does not have any. This is the only time I am unable to help as I am only able to produce small blank pieces of paper that come from my right pants pocket. They are like a mix of blank shopping receipts and small squares of origami paper. Still, I know that by using my wand everywhere, the building will be exactly as it should be.

      At one point, I realize we are inside a large library. I am only slightly puzzled by the unexplainable setting change. It seems to me that this miniature library might be barely big enough for one person to move around inside. Its perimeter seems not that much bigger than a king-size bed. I know there will be shelves attached soon. I consider they will hang out from the outside, though facing inward. Still, this small special library may be for a series of children’s books.



      There have been a number of dreams throughout my life of small buildings within larger buildings. This one did not have a sense of bilocation as certain others had.


      Updated 05-26-2018 at 06:17 PM by 1390

      Tags: library, park, wand
      Categories
      non-lucid
    8. Transition: Sailboat to Lungs

      by , 02-07-2016 at 08:07 AM
      Morning of February 7, 2016. Sunday.



      This dream, curiously enough, seems to be an offset “sequel” of one of several dreams of yesterday - “Unlikely Meteorite”. It mostly seems an unusual residual offset of the library scene just prior to the sighting of the anatomy chart. Even the same unknown female librarian is present (although she could be a version of my wife Zsuzsanna). This one makes more sense in a more discernible hypnopompic disclosure, when the meaning of a dream is more clearly revealed during the last stage of the waking transition.



      I find myself briefly thinking of a half-finished jigsaw puzzle that featured in “Unlikely Meteorite”. It was seemingly, as originally written, a simplified American clipper ship. However, I find myself in a transition where it simplifies into a modern sailboat. The librarian approaches as I look at the chart, which is now actually not a chart but some sort of three-dimensional model of a male human body encased in glass, similar to the “Visible Man” model kit but lifesize.

      The lungs of the seemingly holographic model expand and slowly deflate, then expand again, though after a time, transform into the sails of a sailboat (and I also realize that I am probably “seeing” my own breathing during sleep). I realize that, being that a sailboat is an autosymbolic dream component that can either be a dream self induction (into the dream) or a waking self transition (out of a dream), that it is also a symbol for breathing, especially as a boat is an autosymbolic extension of the physical body (as subliminally perceived in REM sleep). Watching the unusual “sailboat lungs”, I enter a lesser state of waking self perception, visualizing a sailboat on a river (as a waking conduit) to return to my full conscious self - my even breathing carrying me peacefully from my dream, the sails and lungs filling with air, turning, and relaxing, breathing outwards. It almost feels like I “completed a jigsaw puzzle” (a puzzle being autosymbolism for the subliminally perceived ambiguity between fictional dream self and conscious self identity).


      Categories
      lucid
    9. Switched Numbers?

      by , 10-30-2014 at 12:17 PM
      Morning of October 30, 2014. Thursday.



      In my dream, I am in a large (unknown building and unknown town) public room somewhere, seemingly some sort of library or library-like setting. I have torn two pages out of a large reference book - which does not seem to be an unapproved or destructive act for whatever reason. On one page is a longer list of data (somewhat like more detailed telephone listings and such) relating to several different otherwise unrelated things in about three grouped sections on the page, which I find somewhat curious. There is data about Sarasota (Florida), Brisbane, and some other listings related to my own life all on one page, which seems very conveniently coincidental (though it does not trigger lucidity). An older female (about ten years older than me or more) informs me about a need to pay a small fee for any more time I take in searching for more data but I tell her I have already found what I wanted, yet for some reason, put the two pages back and leave the book on a public counter. There is a vague idea about leaving the book complete for the benefit of others that use it.

      A little later, she comes over near the center of the room and asks me about some work I did, apparently in 1979, which related to all the computer programs I supposedly wrote - up to and through that year (the unlikely year for home computers does not trigger lucidity either). She asks me if I think it will work on a modern system (meaning her computer at her private residence, it seems). She says that all my work is in a COM file (rather than an archive such as ZIP or ARC), called 79.COM, which does not sound right, because a COM file is an executable so more than one would need to be in an archive with the others. I reflect on the idea that everything everyone ever did on any computer, telephone, or even wrote on paper, and so on (possibly even including graffiti), is now stored in various files (by this federal government library or whatever it is) relating directly to the person’s identity. I do not see it as an affront; it just seems to be a curious fact and other members of the public may be here to recover data that they thought they had lost. I am thinking about the compatibility of the supposed work and if it will work on Windows 97 (as opposed to the fictional Windows 79 it was apparently written for). I begin to wonder about the correctness of the numbers and try to recall the nature of the executable files. The scenario seems to symbolize the memory of the individual and how such “data” is stored “forever” even when a person often does not remember it.
      Categories
      non-lucid
    10. A stolen candy bar wrapper and a girl with golden skin

      by , 05-15-2014 at 11:15 AM
      Morning of May 15, 2014. Thursday.



      I am riding with my wife in a landau seemingly at night or perhaps very early in the morning in what looks to be Rochester, Minnesota even though I had only been there a few times in real life. An unknown male is to our left and I seem to be in the middle. I believe we may be going down 2nd Street SW so that when we turn right, we will go past the Mayo Clinic. There are a lot of taller buildings lining the streets. What is very strange about this scene is that the one smaller brown horse pulling the carriage is nearly half a city block ahead of us on a very long lead rein. It does not seem to make much sense to me (though apparently done so that troublemakers cannot take control or cajole the horse into going the wrong direction relative to other tourists on board at the time, though the three of us are the only ones around), because I am wondering what will happen when we get to an intersection and how we will make the corner properly. It seems “normal” at first but when the horse gets to the intersection and turns right, we obviously have to stop. When we stop, we have to get out of the carriage and mess around pushing and aligning the carriage to the perpendicular adjoining street. Looking ahead, I see we will probably have to do this several more times before we get to our destination on our supposedly expensive special tour of the area. This seems so ridiculous and irritating that my wife and I leave to go to a hotel by walking instead.

      When we get to the hotel, we appear to be on the second floor. There is a television in the room which I find to be somewhat annoying. I am not sure how to turn it off. My wife is on the bed and there is an unusual movement over her body relating to her skin, somewhat like an ocean wave effect which I cannot quite describe.

      Later, I am in the library. A lot of other people are in the library - more than I have actually seen in real life. I am standing in an area near a longer table, which is mostly to my right. A young male approaches me and pulls something out of my left plaid shirt pocket with his right hand, which is a Mars candy bar wrapper, and throws it on the table, claiming that it is against library policy for a person to carry a card in their pocket, which of course makes absolutely no sense to me, so I decide to punch him and knock him to the floor.

      At this point I become lucid, so I leave the library, but which now seems to have been a part of a much larger building. I follow two people out into the hall and see that it seems to be much like the college I was a student of and later worked for in maintenance (intriguing irony) in La Crosse (WWTC). I walk westerly down the hall and I notice through the glass doors that rain is sparsely falling outside (and it seems to be winter) and feel an intense, almost lustful anticipation. I truly love walking in cold or icy rain in dreams, always have, and I know this will also heighten my lucidity even more, although sometimes the pleasure is too extreme, especially in the bottom of my feet - which changes into a strange “tickling pain” although I am wearing shoes on this occasion. I almost feel the spontaneous “pulling” above my navel, but when I walk outside, the rain is stopping. From here, I walk down the alley, and my dream seems to fade just slightly, but is still fairly vivid and lucid.

      I somehow end up sitting on the ground. I look out from the end of the alley and notice a pair of feminine legs which are shining with a golden light. The girl is standing near a parked car, it seems, and may be talking on a payphone or possibly a cell phone. She is wearing a short darker blue skirt and black stilettos from what I can see. I can only see the scene from the waist down due to a lower tree branch blocking much of the scene. I am intrigued because I have never, to my knowledge, dreamt of glowing golden girls. (This was a pale gold at times, closer to canary yellow - at one point it even looks mottled with white or paler yellow like with a real canary). She appears to be an “ordinary” human otherwise, though. When I get up and go closer, I see her walking a bit north from the car but she stops and looks at me as if expecting me to say something, but my dream fades as her glowing skin dims just a bit. It is strange, because for a short time, I am fully aware of being “half-in and half-out” of my dream for a short time relative to the sense of touch and my physical position.



      This last segment typifies this as mainly a daybreak dream type. The golden glowing skin is a precursor to the growing conscious awareness of sunrise.

      Updated 12-11-2016 at 07:26 AM by 1390

      Categories
      Uncategorized
    11. Library airport seems “Chitty”?

      by , 10-23-1974 at 04:23 PM
      Night of October 23, 1974. Wednesday.



      I am in my middle school library, in eighth grade, the middle area of the first aisle, and it seems an atypical time for being there, perhaps even at night. There are two girls together at another large table, south of me, facing me (though I originally seemed to be seated facing north; my dream apparently “jumping” into a different orientation). I ignore their presence for a time (one being Patty A, which is not feasible, as she would have been in high school this year). I get the strong impression that the very large boa constrictor (which was killed in real life during a break-in with much other damage to my school, by continuously being struck against the wall) is in a vivarium about halfway up on a long bookcase, between rows of books. There is a sort of vague dream within a dream (more like a daydream within my dream) that I somehow indirectly protect the girls from the escaped snake and also an impression that it crawled near their feet without them realizing it. This also seems like some sort of brief “reset” in a typical dream “replay” at one level. (Regarding the antique car in the next paragraph - “Chitty Chitty Bang Bang” - there is an odd association with Patty’s friend Olga, regarding the sound of the name being similar to the car horn sound “ooga”.) Nevertheless, I could not imagine what kind of person or persons would indulge in such activity regarding the real-life events concerning the break-in, especially in thoughtlessly killing the pet snake. There were also bomb scares in real life (especially in May of 1974), and evacuations that year.

      From to my left on the shelf, midway up, I pull out a very large, heavily annotated edition of “Chitty Chitty Bang Bang” which also oddly seems to be Bible-like (possibly because of the serpent association). I get the impression that the library is also an airport - in that there is a larger airport within the library rather than the other way around. I contemplate the possible likelihood of “Chitty Chitty Bang Bang” actually being one of the vehicles used in flight to and form the supposed airport. Not much else happens, although I sense I am supposed to be in a classroom at the time but am not due to stubbornness and disinterest (and I am also somewhat concerned about not being dressed appropriately and seemingly wearing light blue and white vertically striped pajamas at one point).

      There seems to be a lot of strange criticism of the book in the annotations (with various notes on how unlikely or ambiguous each paragraph’s events are), and implying the author (Ian Fleming) was in a psychiatric hospital at the time he wrote it as well as unable to walk or move much. I also wonder if any of the airplanes from this place would be safe to travel on, also contemplating my leave of school with no plan to come back because of the possible lack of safety, as I falsely recall that flying in a poorly maintained aircraft is how I get to and from school. I do not question any of the various errors in my dream scene perspective (such as school-library-airport composites). Supposedly “Chitty Chitty Bang Bang” in-dream is considered the worst book ever written according to critics, also wrongfully implying it being solely for ages four and under. In reality, I really liked the movie (and the book was not bad in my opinion, either) though never took critics seriously in any way as it is, though as can be expected the name “Chitty” was altered to its expletive form by classmates and even kids from the elementary school.

      Updated 09-05-2015 at 02:19 PM by 1390

      Categories
      non-lucid
    12. Into the “Wilderness” of My Middle School’s Library

      by , 03-24-1974 at 09:24 AM
      Morning of March 24, 1974. Sunday.

      Dream #: 2,652-02. Reading time: 1 min 30 sec. Readability score: 50.



      Classmates, including Steve J, Steve W, Ann L, and I, are supposedly going “into the wilderness.” We go to the anticipated location, maintaining a slow-motion leaping that is similar to slowly flying up and down in a vertical position.

      We are going to my middle school’s library. I realize I am in my pajamas, but I do not feel out of place. I feel comfortable as I sit down at a rectangular wooden table to read a book. I am eventually aware I am wearing a robe, yet when I look down, I notice it is open, and my legs are bare and exposed (even though I had been wearing pajamas moments before). My classmates do not draw attention to my state of undress and also begin to look at books.

      I start to realize that I am dreaming and recognize that I am not wearing clothes because, in reality, I am undressed and asleep in bed. With vague amusement, I try to maintain awareness of what I am reading but fail to do so as I am already slowly waking.



      Known causal factors:

      Being undressed in a dream: Subliminal, liminal, or concurrent preconscious awareness and acknowledgment of being in bed in REM sleep.

      The lack of linear cohesion and continuity is a result of correlation with the dreaming and waking processes. I am firstly thinking about exploring a forest. Then, there is subliminal awareness that I am indoors in a bedroom (though distorted into the library setting based on an emerging consciousness thread). First, I am wearing pajamas, as in response to the subliminal awareness that I am in bed, then I have bare legs to augment that realization.

      Vestibular system correlation had already started (caused by the physicality of the dream self being imaginary and not representing the orientation of the physical body) with the “slow-motion leaping” that is similar to flying. Vestibular system correlation is a precursor of the waking process, which typically causes falling and flying dreams.

      Libraries and reading serve as an emerging consciousness factor to hone my awareness of the dream state. It remains one of my most common perceptual triggers to initiate conscious self awareness while dreaming, though it is not always feasible (as the text often continuously changes).


      Updated 12-12-2018 at 08:49 AM by 1390

      Categories
      non-lucid
    13. Lobstergeddon

      by , 11-03-1972 at 03:15 PM
      Night of November 3, 1972. Friday.



      This dream has a very eerie atmosphere and there is almost a sense of nausea in-dream at a couple points. Human civilization will be challenged by a possible “end of the world” scenario, but it only means that most people will have to go into hiding and have far more secure homes. This involves something to do with smaller white lobsters.

      At one point, I walk over a mostly featureless landscape to the northwest although there is a small library in the region. I see a couple downward-half-sphere holes in the ground (of the type that look like they were made for campfires) that are filled with small white lobsters but I am not sure if they are alive. They seem randomly “piled” on top of each other.

      Tina L (a female classmate around my age, perhaps a few months younger) is at the library. There are sustained moods of tentative fear. For some reason, she has a thicker English accent (recurring). (I am not quite sure why she appeared as such in certain dreams, as I am fairly certain she was American for the most part but she did seem to deliberately try to sound English every now and then.) There are only a couple white lobsters in the library so far, on a couple of the shelves about four feet up from the floor.

      We need to escape from the area due to there being more and more of these small white lobsters which may have a disease or pose some other sort of threat. There is this very clear idea that we will be able to escape sooner than everyone else and eventually leave (with the promise of being “safer than anyone else”). However, as we go easterly, we are blocked by an extremely deep canyon running north/south. Looking down, the canyon is so deep, that the raging river below is only barely visible. In real life, though, there would be no such land features in Florida.