Blue_Opossum

Morning of June 18, 2018. Monday.



Subliminal awareness of the autosymbolic nature of the waking process begins. My unconscious mind is personified as an unknown female despite the fact my non-lucid dream self does not possess viable access to my unconscious mind at this level of REM sleep. Errors and distortions abound. She is a subliminal thread of my wife Zsuzsanna, of which my non-lucid dream self does not yet possess viable memory of or contact with my current conscious self identity. She has a daughter who literally but subliminally represents our oldest daughter at a younger age.

I am sitting on the floor in a unique erroneous version of the King Street mansion. The house is mirror imaged to its real-life layout, flipped east to west. I am in the downstairs antechamber while the female mostly remains in the living room on the other side of the doorway. She seems annoyed in building a small structure on the floor in about the middle of the living room, mainly from a set of small blocks of different solid colors, mostly blue, yellow, red, and green. They are about the size of baby blocks, but with a feature on all six sides that is like the knobs of a Lego brick, though there are four knobs on each side of each cube in a two by two pattern. A couple times, as the blocks do not fit into each other, stacks of about seven high topple over. There is a row of about eight stacks at various heights. (This is autosymbolism for failure to initiate viable conscious awareness.)

I am puzzled and somewhat annoyed, though not angry, in trying to rebuild the staircase that goes to the second floor (where I had lived in real life though not been since 1990), which supposedly is to be the real staircase. This is an extreme failure of thinking skills as I am solely working with small triangular pieces of wood. The pieces are only about two inches thick. The two stacks I had made this far are only about six inches high in two rows of about eight pieces each. I cannot seem to arrange the pieces in the correct orientation regarding which edge should face upward. I have several together, but they do not display the form of a set of steps. This indicates that my subconscious self is having difficulty in reaching my conscious self identity during the waking process.

Subliminal anticipation of the waking process continues but increases. This is after the subliminal recognition of a staircase being autosymbolism for the waking process despite its miniaturization in a setting that represents the liminal space of the process, the antechamber (what my landlady called a “vestibule” in real life). Vestibular system correlation personifies, which causes my dream to jump to a new setting, though in the same King Street mansion, still mirrored east to west.

I find myself on the second floor. I develop an ambiguous awareness where I start to become partly aware of my married status and erroneously perceive the house, though vaguely, as the Stadcor Street house in Brisbane (where we have not lived in years), though that was only a one-storey house and was nothing like the King Street house. Vestibular system correlation personifies as Glenn, one of our landlords from Stadcor Street. He has never lived in America, but my dream self does not consider this error. I have a vague awareness he is married to my landlady (only vaguely recalled as Zsuzsanna at this point, but this does not trigger the realization of my erroneous associations) even though in reality he had a male partner.

A vague thread of dream state awareness is present at this point, though no threads of viable lucidity. Because of vestibular system correlation personifying as Glenn, who seems very cheerful, I walk through the doorway of the upstairs kitchen, which opens to the porch’s roof. This is from vague recall that a porch can be used to vivify a dream, as it is autosymbolic of a specific level of dream state consciousness of which I had used many times in the past, since early childhood, to vivify my dream or “step into” a more vivid offset dream. This process developed from walking outside by way of the porch’s doorway. Here though, I am somewhat puzzled from being on the roof of the porch, as there is no additional doorway to intensify my dream or trigger viable lucidity (as the option to jump off the roof to fly does not occur to me). Glenn looks up at me from the public sidewalk in front of the house.

“You’ll have to use the catwalk,” he says happily.

I get the impression he had used the so-called catwalk and jumped to the ground from the outer edge of the roof. I study the roof and see a precarious narrow section of wood that is separate from the rest of the roof, which puzzles me. I stand on it, but consider that I cannot get to the rest of the roof (which has some building materials and tools sitting about) even though all I would have to do is step onto it from this supposed catwalk. Even after fifty years, my dream self fails to remember the dream sign of a cat being a “witness” to liminal space and typically near doorways (for the purpose of inducing lucidity in some cases), though the association had been distorted into the word “catwalk” in this case. (No cat is present and my dream self does not think about cats even upon hearing “cat” as part of “catwalk”.) The association with a “cat always landing on its feet” is not present (regarding the vestibular system dynamics of the waking process, which is often a falling sensation, based solely on biology, not “meaning” as “interpreters” falsely propagate).

My dream shifts into a different scenario as a result of considering the nature of the King Street roof (still erroneously associated with the Stadcor Street house) and subliminal anticipation of the falling sensation of the waking process, which does not occur as a result of this shift. Now it is a typical non-lucidly forced “haunting” scenario. I am downstairs again, but this time the setting is an ambiguous composite of the Stadcor Street house and the Cubitis house. I am now more aware of Zsuzsanna as my wife, though it is still not a complete recognition. She still seems to serve the role as landlady.

“How long has…it…been in this house?” I ask her this dramatically, speaking of the haunting, which is mainly nonthreatening. We talk briefly, but I become distracted. I find myself in a dark room with an unknown female. There is talk about ghosts and seeing physical evidence of ghosts in this house. I tell her, “This is the only house I have ever lived in where there is the physical presence of ghosts.” On one level, I know ghosts are not real, but on another level, I have achieved non-lucid dream control and revivification at this point to entertain myself. The old writing desk that Zsuzsanna used to have is present, which results in an increase of thinking skills correlation. Near the opposite side of the desk from where the unknown female is standing, another female slowly appears. It is a ghost. “Can you see her?” I ask the female. She tells me that she cannot see anyone there.

The ghost is a realistic version, as a “real” human, of Velma Dinkley (of the Scooby-Doo franchise), though about twelve years of age. She seems puzzled and very shy and uncertain. “Who are you?” I ask her. “I’m a goddess,” she whispers. I am puzzled and ask her again about five times. Each time, she softly says, “I’m a goddess”. I want to help her come to terms with her death. (This is a vague influence of “Show Yourself” from 2016, seen just prior to sleep, where I expected Travis to hug the ghost of Paul near the end, though he did not). I hug her, place my right hand on the small of her back, and move it up to the middle of her back. As a result, the palm of my hand begins to glow with white light, rays shining into other areas of the room. (I do not recall the association with Zsuzsanna having been born on September 13, though this was exactly one year before “Scooby-Doo” first aired, therefore Velma in this case is a subliminal representation of Zsuzsanna.)

The palm of my right hand continues to glow as I find myself walking south through the Cubitis hallway. I stand in the doorway of the Cubitis southwest bedroom looking into the semidarkness. Several unfamiliar people, both men and women, are sitting on couches that are against the west and north walls. (This is an erroneous setup, as the north wall held the sliding doors of a large closet in reality.) I hold up my right hand and the light spreads into the room somewhat. The others are puzzled. I step through the doorway and wake. (This is a vague association with a security system reading a handprint to allow entry, or, in this case, to exit the dream state.)

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With this entry, I have attempted to explain the dreaming and waking process as best I could for this dream. (This is difficult in a society where most people have no viable understanding of dreams, many still believing in “interpretation” and “symbolism” in the popular sense, neither of which is real.) The bedroom is a literal thread of final recognition that I am dreaming, and so I choose to wake. The light represents attaining consciousness as a willingness to accept daybreak and intelligence of which only the conscious self possesses in waking life.

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Morning of February 14, 2016. Sunday.



I climb a ladder through a trapdoor above me and into a small dimly-lit room with a number of gears that are presently not moving. I have a hammer (though I do not recall having climbed the ladder with it). The gears seem possibly jammed as well as rusty. Hammering them seems to not only remove some of the rust, but rather than breaking the gears, it seems to somehow add missing pieces (or teeth) back onto them.

The gears begin to move, more golden in appearance, the light in the room grows brighter, and I soon wake in mid-swing.

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This is about as obvious as waking symbolism can get (though subliminally self-initiated rather than with biological RAS activation). A ladder symbolizes rising in consciousness (waking). Using the hammer signifies becoming more aware of the nature of the real physical body (and kinetic energy metaphorically equating to neural energy - as something shaking or vibrating also symbolizes the waking state precursor), and of course gears turning relates to waking and more viably thinking. A room growing brighter also relates to dawning consciousness. Yellow and gold are emergent consciousness indicators (570–590 nm) as in being analogous to sunrise, though orange and red, in that order, increase waking priory.

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Morning of July 23, 2015. Thursday.



I am sitting at my computer desk as in real life though the room is mirrored longways (so that the open area of the room is to my left rather than to my right where the end of the desk is now against the opposite wall; however, the rest of the house, though I cannot see it, “feels” the same, as my oldest daughter’s room still, in in-dream “memory”, is to my left on the other side of the east wall). The room is mostly dark as I do not have a light on, and I assume it is nighttime.

The more I type with my keyboard (though I cannot recall the nature of what I am writing, though I am fairly certain it involved in-dream affirmations), the brighter it gets, until it is just a “slab of white light” (originally though with a bluish glow). Even though I had not been looking at my fingers, I am somewhat annoyed as it eventually seems too smooth to tap keys correctly.

Not only that, the computer monitor (the old large squarish type I still use that is about the length of my forearm) becomes black and blank and I cannot see what I am typing on the screen either. It almost reminds me of a large cloaked head (though not quite ominous).

How do people cope with this nonsense? (This is what I am thinking for a time.)

Morning of June 2, 1998. Tuesday.

Reading time: 54 sec. Readability score: 57.



I deliberately step into an interesting street scene, but during a sequence of more quickly changing settings when the human forms have not stabilized. (Dream characters usually transform at the rate of about once per second in the first dreaming stage of the sleep cycle, until I allow them to stabilize, though they also sometimes melt into and out of each other during these stages.)

A group of East Indian men (most from about thirty to forty years of age) approaches, some in traditional clothes, some in suits. They are carrying what I think is a casket. Moving closer, hovering in an incorporeal form while maintaining vestibular system correlation, I see the lid is now off. The “casket” contains long yellow candles (emerging consciousness color) aligned in the box lengthwise end to end. One of them alights, and I hear a male ahead of the group say, “Oh, look at that,” more in wonder and respect than surprise or alarm, and I wake softly, feeling alert and well. There is an essence of magic, though not “real” magic, only the knowledge of the dream state and how to mediate and modulate it.

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The “lighting a candle” process is a thread (both in infra-awareness and lucidity as here) that I have used since early childhood to more clearly define my conscious self’s existence, especially with incidental sleep apnea, though which is quite rare and is not a factor in this case.

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Morning of November 3, 1974. Sunday.

Dream #: 2,876-07. Reading time: 52 sec.



In my dream, Susan R is sitting outside on a brick fence in Arcadia late at night, and I am standing, facing her. She tells me that something will eventually be happening to take me on a different path, away from her (implying destiny, with a sense of finality and certainty).

On cue, a Catherine wheel detaches, or someone throws it from somewhere unknown in the distance (perhaps three or four blocks away), and it moves high up into the sky. I think of shooting stars (even though the feature is first going upward before arcing downward). I am unsure what could have propelled it like this. Susan tells me that I will hear my name in a song relative to this event. My “dream girl” (Zsuzsanna before we met) connects to my destiny.

Though there is the essence of eeriness, it is not ominous. I watch the small and distant object on an arced curve, soon resembling a glowing pinwheel. (The scenario seems partly influenced by reel three of a “Casper the Friendly Ghost” View-Master pack, titled “The Falling Star,” where an anthropomorphic five-pointed star befriends Casper.)

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The song “Catherine Wheels” (by Crowded House, 1993) uses my first name (Claude). Zsuzsanna and Paul Hester shared a brief correspondence, and he hugged her once in waking life.

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