Blue_Opossum

Morning of November 8, 2015. Sunday.



In the first part of my dream, I am riding in a helicopter (with an unknown male pilot) with my wife Zsuzsanna, seemingly late at night. The view is peaceful.

Later, I am in a very unusual setting that is seemingly bilocated with my Cubitis backyard (where I have not been since July of 1978), implied to be where the back part of the shed would have been, though with a very different perspective. I am mainly only aware of a singular huge monolith. There are several roads going straight up the monolith and it looks like some sort of mining operation where perhaps they are mining the top of the monolith.

Fairly heavy traffic occurs on a few sides, going both straight up and straight down, all the vehicles defying gravity.

From here, the vividness intensifies, although I now seem like an immense giant (nearly as tall as the monolith) with the cars, trucks, and utility vehicles only about half the length of a finger (by my perspective only - they are still “real” vehicles and people implied to be at a normal size other than only suggested as miniature relative to the scale of my backyard), though I can still see all the intriguing clear detail, including the beams of the headlights and such. It all looks amazing. The depth perception is also enhanced and the awareness of distance at a very large scale seems quite “realistic”.

I watch the activity and seem to float around for several minutes. In the last segment, I decide to play around with the scene (even though I am not lucid in any way). I focus on one silvery-gray pickup truck going straight up the side of the monolith and nearing the top and I mentally make it “come off the wall”, so that it then just falls backwards from off the vertical road. I anticipate a fiery explosion on the ground below as I watch it fall (about three feet away from my giant’s perspective), but that does not happen. It just hits the ground upside-down with a metallic crunch. This is disappointing but my dream starts to fade from here.

Morning of January 17, 1970. Saturday.



This is another dream from age nine that I additionally wrote about (compared to typical basic documentation) several times when much younger and even made a homemade “comic book” version about. I tended to have more lucid dreams (mostly late at night) during the winter when I lived in Florida, as I had a smaller heater in my room that was quite noisy and caused me to remain in various half-sleeps at times. It rattled continuously when it was on, with a nice bright orange fiery glow. Sometimes a miniature fireball in the form of an insect, spider, or a bit of dust would go flying out. I always felt very comfortable at the sound and glow, though, regardless of the unusual metallic rattling and vibrating noises on and off throughout the night. I heard they do not make these heaters anymore due to the fire danger. The walls of my room were solid rough “prickly-textured” concrete, though (with a big long mostly diagonal crack on the south wall, floor to ceiling, which was painted part cyan, part dark brown, as if someone had ran out of paint), kind of a sharp contrast to the thin and light plastic curtains I had for a time, which blew all the way up to the ceiling at the slightest breeze during the summer months in a noisy, crunchy cascade.

This childhood dream was recurring a few times, later versions were slightly more movie-like and this was one of those times when I even “rolled the credits” upon waking as well as starting my dream by showing the titles and opening credits.

This one mainly involved shrinking and becoming only about an inch high. The first versions I had recorded in my journals as “World under a Blanket”. My later title was “Quilt Utopia” just to be fancy, I suppose. The later “Quilt Utopia” versions were more interesting, as the different crazy quilt patterns became part of the actual dream, such as “roads” or convoluted “sidewalks”.

The main idea was that when I shrank, I was still under the blanket yet somehow in a different world, complete with buildings and roads and a “blanket sky” way above. However, as my dream progressed, the “sky” would get lower and lower until it was more like I was in a cave. The warlike characters that came after me turned out to be small toy soldiers that were from a box at the foot of my bed. Later versions usually had a more positive theme, yet with castles, kings and queens, and at one point, a very large but eerie lake with distant swamp-like aspects, where you could see the horizon where the blanket sky domed down over the “edge of the world”.

There was also an “Alice in Wonderland” theme in one version, where I said something near the end like “I’m not afraid of you, you are only toy soldiers…” and being almost my full size with a very small king and queen looking on under the “blanket sky” that was slowly getting lower. The later crazy quilt version had unusual faces in the “sky” that stayed with me in a hypnopompic event.

There is one point where I am poked with a bayonet, which turns out to be a bed spring, poking through the mattress when I am awake, so there are two main versions - one in which the “world under a blanket” is a dream, and another where I actually go into a sort of other dimension with portions connected to the real world (such as the “blanket sky”).

There was another much later “version” of this dream as a young adult, but it involved the entire Earth in a giant “pillow case” or “slipcover” (I think the real-life caption was “Earth’s Slipcover” in the magazine I later had). This was later also related to seeing an idea in a humor magazine in real life (such as the many “Mad”, “Cracked”, and “Sick” magazines published at the time) related to fictional horror movies, except the later dream was not really nightmarish overall. The humor magazine drawing showed the world covered by a giant pillowcase or slipcover, I think; a somewhat rehashing of my childhood dream, but not quite precognitive, even though the odds at the time of someone else coming up with a “world under a blanket” idea would be fairly unusual to the individual’s own path (especially prior to the Internet).