Blue_Opossum

Morning of May 3, 2020. Sunday.

Dream #: 19,494-01. Reading time (optimized): 2 min.



In this dream from late morning, I maintain precursory liminality after I re-enter sleep. As a result, I recall Zsuzsanna and a few of my waking-life associations (including the instinctual perception of being in bed), though I lose recall of what a dream is (as I ordinarily do in this mode). Even so, it starts with my focus on our bed, but the setting is undefined at first. As Zsuzsanna and I are standing in a different room, I watch the sheet on the bed lift by itself and move back as if manipulated by an invisible person. (Note that this correlates with the management of precursory liminality and has happened in many previous dreams.)

Zsuzsanna and I walk into the unknown bedroom, and I am astounded by the realistic detail and precise rendering of the events (a thought process that never occurs in waking life - how many people, for example, would watch a car go down the street in waking life while thinking, “Wow, that looks so realistic”). Over time, my dream resolves the room as having the essence of the Barolin Street house’s lounge room (where a bed never was in waking life).

Eventually, the supposed ghost of a teenage girl is present and is responsible for the previous inexplicable activity. Her name is Sophie.

“Are you the same Sophie from years ago?” I ask her, but my question does not make much sense. She cheerfully confirms that she is by nodding. (She is an older version of Sophie Wender from John Wyndham’s “The Chrysalids,” also published as “Re-Birth.”) I move my hands through her hair, saying how “realistic” it seems as imaginary somatosensory dynamics increase exponentially. (Note that in a different recent dream, this same process resulted in removing sandspurs from a resting wolf’s fur.)

Eventually, with Zsuzsanna still in the room, another supposed ghost materializes. This one is Marcella Boyland from Daniel F. Galouye’s “Tonight the Sky Will Fall,” though I do not interact with her as much.

The need to wake to use the bathroom integrates into my dream’s content, resulting in liminal management and its personification as an unknown male ghost married to Sophie, a status previously unbeknown to me. (His manifestation annoys me, as Sophie is “mine,” but discarding the waking transition would be unwise.) As a result, I gaze into a mirror (though I do not see myself at any point, as the mirror is higher than my line of sight), with liminal drop anticipation. From this, the sketchy drawing of a crow fills the mirror, part of it including random zigzagging lines.

“Can ghosts influence what people see?” I absentmindedly ask the male. “I had that mirror back when I lived in Chicago,” says the male, which is the usual nonsensical response to questions asked in liminal mode. (Ghosts typically result from liminal management with waking-life identity being “incomplete” when between dreaming and waking.)

The “ghost” walks into the bathroom, causing me to realize that I need to wake up and go.

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Morning of September 28, 2014. Sunday.



This was an extended version of a long-recurring dream scene of looking in a mirror and deliberately trying to change my appearance in various ways even though I am only semi-lucid.

This is a rather unusual state of semi-lucidity which often involves an intense “forced frustration” and somewhat of a need to instigate distortion or alter imagery without being more aware of the virtually infinite possibilities of the dream state when fully lucid. (By experience, I have learned that there are at least three very distinct types of in-dream lucidity, probably more when breaking down the more diverse nuances.)

I look in a dresser mirror in a somewhat dark room (just with enough light to see most details of my face but in shadow) and attempt to force different perspectives and to distort how I appear in the dream (which is otherwise amazingly realistic and mostly consistent throughout). Based on my reflection in the mirror, I appear to move close to and fairly far away from the mirror even though my physical body remains in the same place in-dream (about the center of the room). This changing “zoom in and zoom out” perspective (which has also occurred in different dream types) and different range of views does not at all seem unlikely in-dream (it is probably number four on my list of recurring dream aspects that seem familiar and likely in reality, but cannot be). I also try to force a mock fear, due to the sort of tingly energy it creates (have done this in semi-lucid dreams since early childhood), but am unable to strengthen it, and no other beings are there except for me even though I change my appearance somewhat as a sort of pretense, but nothing dramatic ensues. Sometimes I had done it by lowering my eyebrows and squinting yet focusing on the immediate foreground (near my nose) so that my view is pair-of-eyes-shaped, with the idea the eyes-shape is from another being just in front of me (this being something I learned in a dream in 1972, age eleven, when I deliberately tried to create more energized nightmarish states but was usually unable to - however, this also resulted in the zooming in and out perspective which I did not realize was otherwise not possible in actuality, therefore not recognizing the dream state).

Prior to this, there was also the typical cleaning dream, where I “polished”, refurbished, and “mentally repainted” aspects of the room. In this one, I also find various items under a rug including dust and old food scraps. I clean the room as thoroughly as possible.

Morning of February 22, 2011. Tuesday.



I am shaving in what seems to be an unusual manner relative to location and distance from the bathroom(?) mirror. (It may actually be a mirror just outside our bathroom, although our house seems unfamiliar, but is like a composite of a few houses I have lived in with some features being of our present home.) There are several short periods of contemplation - through which seem like about twenty minutes total - when my face becomes a bright, shiny silver plate all around. During these times, I have various thoughts. These thoughts include ideas about not needing to shave over smooth silver. I also have trouble focusing my eyes to shave at times, because my face is so bright, as it distorts and reflects so that I can not see where I am shaving. My entire face is of a solid, polished silver “skin” that augments any light in the area exponentially. My eyes are there, but as outlined shadows of a lesser brightness against the “mask” of my “real” (in my dream) skin.

It would seem to be a transient condition that may be related to either reflected light or mood or even the time of day. Later, I seem to be back in my old apartment and shaving there as well, but my facial skin is bleeding everywhere. Over time, I start to worry that I have lost too much blood to live, although there is not that much bleeding from particular areas during a shorter time. There are only a few extremely thick and hard hairs left along the sides of my face, reminding me of tree stumps.

Again, there are times when my face is a silver, polished plate, with shadowy outlined eyes only - no discernible nose or mouth. I am vaguely worried I may die (during times when my face is otherwise normal), but nothing dramatic happens.

A connected dream, in which my face is also sometimes the silver glowing “mask” of “real” skin, involves three new daughters. Oddly, they seem less than nine months apart, the oldest being perhaps a year and a half or two years old at the most and the youngest maybe six months old or older. I am not sure of the ages, but I still question if this closeness of ages would be possible. It is also possible that the youngest is newly born. The oldest is named Rowena. The middle one (by age) is Tillie. (The name “Tillie” might have come from a comic book character I was familiar with for a time - “Tillie the Toiler”.) I am not sure of the name of the youngest; it seems we may have not given her a name yet.

The middle one (by age and on the northernmost end - the oldest, Rowena, resting to the southern-most side of the room, the youngest in the middle) keeps trying to stand, but falls over and bumps her head several times (but is not injured in anyway, although I have concern). They are all on the floor on a large blue mat. I am sitting on a (white?) sofa on the east side of the room.

Later, I am aware of our real-life children, but their ages do not reflect the time differences of my dream relative to the “newer additions”. My youngest son had not aged the two years or so my dream would require to be consistent.

We did have another daughter later on, but the name “Rowena” was not used as planned. Instead, we used the name I was “given” in a clearer-than-usual seemingly external “pulsing” event on November 22nd, 2012. It seemed to be some sort of communication of energy from the actual unborn child (in “wanting” and “saying” the name), but also seemed “rerouted” to some extent - it also seemed to simultaneously be in my own “voice” as if in reaction to something. It was also found to have happened at the same time a younger girl with that name died from a fall in the region (with the usual life-long “clustered” associations). It was on the 22nd of the 11th month. It was a 22-storey fall. Her last name was very similar to the brand of lantern (light-giving) my family used when I was young, and part of the area’s name was “Paradise”. I also saw the name several times after in different synchronous events seeming to validate our naming decision several times over.

Morning of March 4, 1991. Monday.



It seems to be morning. I had gotten up and gone to the back room of the Loomis Street house, I think to get something from the second refrigerator. I am distracted by a large dresser that faces out from the east wall near the doorway (which was never there in real life and this location of the dresser would not be possible in reality as it would have blocked the doorway).

Looking in the mirror, I see my lifelong dream girl in perfect detail (the most attractive female I had ever seen though I had always assumed her to be fictional), as if she is implied to be my own reflection, though lower in the mirror than my own head would actually be. She smiles intensely and seems to radiate an “I found you” triumphant visage. I look at her for a considerable time and feel slightly puzzled, yet I do not realize how “impossible” it is to see someone else’s reflection in a mirror other than your own.

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Zsuzsanna first wrote to me on March 16th, 1991. There are hundreds of completely unexplainable events relating to my dream girl. Needless to say, this has completely changed my view of humanity and of life itself.

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This event from the 1980s was just one more experience that all but abolished my faith in human credibility (as to why most people remain in denial regarding the paranormal, which, as I have stated, I consider more bizarre than the paranormal itself - or perhaps “paranormal” is not the right word in this case as it covers many things regarding the “unexplained” - many people seemingly completely lack the ability to either accept or relate to it - which seems overly “wrong” somehow, especially at my age now).

In the morning of this day, I continue to have false awakenings from a few dreams and am focused on a section of the east wall of my King Street apartment when I lived in the smaller L-shaped room where the pinhead’s closet had a blocked-off doorway westerly to my room. There was a strange, shiny part of the wall whereby there were very odd shadowy figures I couldn’t quite account for. It gave the impression of both miniature demonic human-like forms and wayward fairies. The vividness of this perception was astounding. I couldn’t work out what I was looking at and later thought the dream was related to some sort of implied portal in the wall. Still, it created the impression of a reflection from somewhere else, and there was also a sort of reddish hue in some areas. The detail was quite precise and did not change in orientation. This was the only time to that point that I had such a vivid dream of focusing on the east wall and seeing the weird shiny seeming reflection from elsewhere. It almost reminded me of Hot Stuff the devil in an enchanted forest scene with a plane flying above.

That evening, in real life, I walked to the north-side of La Crosse. I stopped at sister Marilyn’s house. She wanted me to get something for her at the store, so I walked north, then west down Gillette Street. It was the night that the garbage was set out on the boulevards. I passed near a house a few houses east from the IGA store (“Skogen’s” at the time) and noticed an object sitting freely atop the garbage can on a smaller box. Looking at it, in the dark, I saw it was a Pink Floyd “The Wall” mirror, which I had never seen one of before. I decided to take it home, as it was in seeming good condition.

The next morning - you guessed it - the dream repeated - except it wasn’t a dream this time. I had absentmindedly placed the mirror on my desk near the south window whereby the reflection on the wall was identical to the precognitive dream of the day before. This really baffled me, even considering the thousands of similar experiences I had already had. It almost made me feel “dislocated in time”. Included here is the photo of the same mirror as what I had.

As usual, about paranormal dreams with validated follow-ups such as this, there are several layers, with at least one layer being almost like a “cosmic jester” at work. In this case, it was related directly to the wall in my apartment as well as the movie “The Wall” (that I hadn’t even seen). In addition to visually exact precognition (which couldn’t possibly be coincidental in any way), there was the additional feeling of remote-viewing, yet somehow “displaced” in time - yet another variation of the unexplained.

One more thing - I didn’t like the song “The Wall” at all (in fact disliked it quite a bit and often made fun of it), because they sang “We don’t need no education” - which implied that they did need education - because they were using a double negative…

Morning of November 3, 1979. Saturday.



A living pelican skeleton walks about in my family’s living room in Cubitis (though I was living in Wisconsin by this time in real life). My dream is very intense and vivid, with an augmented sense of wonder, but not eerie despite the imagery. There is a vibrant positive energy present. The pelican skeleton eventually jumps up onto a dresser (along the west wall of the living room) and then spends time seemingly looking at itself in a mirror (perhaps in puzzlement of its “twin” in the mirror) and moving its wings of bone. I am also vaguely aware of other activity in the room, something like small balls rolling around and possibly small mammals of which I do not directly focus upon.

It seems very alive and vibrant, as if I am viewing the scene through some sort of x-ray vision. There is a lot of energy in my dream, and other events are happening, but this is the main one and the focus of my dream at its most vivid level. (It reminds me, in conscious afterthought, of an image from the Time-Life book “The Birds”, which I had since I was very young.

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This dream is a unique version of the otherwise typical type of autosymbolism in the last segment of my dreams that relates to associations with vestibular system ambiguity and not knowing where my physical body is in unconsciousness. Although there is a lesser semi-lucidity here, my dream self typically does not have viable access to either my unconscious or viable memory or thinking skills, or viable awareness of my conscious self in waking life. This, in fact, is why the mirror is rendered, as a mirror is a type of autosymbolism that represents this division of liminal space. The skeleton form represents how my dream self is not my complete conscious self in waking life, combined with the flight symbol that is precursory to the actual waking transition (and of which is rendered in over one in five of my dreams, at least once per sleep cycle).

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