Blue_Opossum

Morning of May 1, 2020. Friday.

Dream #: 19,492-02. Reading time (optimized): 1 min 30 sec.



My dream’s foundation is a result of imaginary somatosensory modulation, but atypical. (I often cup my hand around a vertical bar of the head of our bed for this.) Ordinarily, I summon an egg to increase a dream’s illusory sense of touch (other than in a later rendering of a dream’s timeline when it is more often coins), the reason being that an egg is a perfect size to focus on the area of my palm and the underside of my fingers when I cup my hand. This type of modulation is usually in an indoor setting. However, in this instance, there is a precursory vestibular perception that results in the common sky-watching scenario, though in this case, it is seemingly in the late morning rather than before dawn.

Over time, I see a flying saucer high in the sky. Many other people are around in a mostly featureless field. I focus on creating small rockets to blow up any spaceships.

The exponential increase in my dream’s illusory sense of touch stems from the middle of a small rocket first materializing in my cupped right hand. The top and bottom of the miniature missile telescope from each side, coming into existence with minimal effort in my summoning the feature. It is partially reminiscent of a toy plastic rocket I had as a boy that comes apart in sections.

I mentally cause the missile to ignite and leave my hand to destroy a flying saucer. Even though it is less than a foot long, I have a close view of when it reaches the spacecraft (as if looking through a virtual telescope). I enjoy the explosion (as I usually do in this mode of dreaming).

Over time, as more spaceships appear, I indulge in the same activity, several times, enjoying my pointless entertainment. I experiment with different visualizations and anticipation of the results. At one point, I send my rocket to a feature with the resemblance of a rocket booster (similar to the rectangular aft skirts in some science-fiction movies). From there, the rocket goes inside the middle of the spacecraft to blow it up.

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I ordinarily only end up doing things like this when I lose interest in sustaining sleep for longer, concerning creating a new dream scenario.

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Morning of December 5, 2017. Tuesday.



I become aware of being in a scenario where a small nuclear missile is being carried on a vehicle that is apparently going west (based on my subliminal impression of how I am oriented while sleeping in our bed). I am somehow in charge of the situation and of the missile. It is only about five feet long. There are a few other (unknown) people with me.

We approach a wide river that runs north to south. At this point, I start to become wary about being near a nuclear missile. My awareness and contemplation of the scenario is not realistic. I decide to throw the missile into a river, where there are additional unknown people near, and I know it may eventually go off, but I consider that I will have time to outrun it.

Despite the size of the missile, I somehow fling it with one hand to the opposite side of the river. There is no explosion, but I expect one to come eventually. I and the others start running the opposite direction (east). I am aware of the minutes counting down.

Although we are running across an outdoor landscape, there are identical low-set tables that we reach every twenty seconds or so. I suddenly have an infinite supply of decks of playing cards, whereby I then toss several cards to each side of me where there are always about three or four random unfamiliar males present to grab the cards. This has something to do with survival, as I am aware that some of the cards can be traded for food. This event repeats a number of times. Just prior to waking, I turn to see the mushroom cloud emerging from the horizon and realize that I am now safe and that about three minutes and twenty-seven seconds had passed from the time it landed in the river.

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This dream is a typical attempt at subliminal reinduction. The missile can otherwise be viewed as a flight symbol (RAS and inner ear dynamics relating to the waking prompt), though I throw it into the river as water symbolizes sleep (and potential dream state deepening and sustaining in this case; symbolism I have experienced on a day to day basis and understood for over fifty years).

The playing card scenario is a bit odd, though it, along with the missile, likely relates to continuously hearing about the North Korea threat, almost as if it was like some sort of deranged poker game between two so-called leaders while the rest of the world looks on in passive bewilderment.

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Morning of August 9, 2017. Wednesday.



I become aware that I am babysitting an unfamiliar boy of about four years of age in the northeast area of the Cubitis living room. I perceive myself as being about twenty-five years old. It feels like it might be late morning. I have no associations with whomever the boy’s parents might be.

The dreamer does not realize that he has not lived in Cubitis since 1978, leaving when he was seventeen. He also does not recall that he lived in Wisconsin when he was twenty-five, not Florida. The memory of his three sons (and two daughters) does not seem extant, though the presence of the unfamiliar boy, who does not resemble any of his sons, may be a subliminal clue, though he otherwise has no memory of who he presently really is.

There is a huge Raggedy Ann doll sitting against the north wall near the northeast corner of the living room. I have a notion that the giant stuffed doll is somehow a mother figure for the boy. It almost reaches the ceiling. The head is unrealistically large in proportion to the rest of the doll. Time passes, and the head seems flatter (front to back) than it should be. The doll begins to sag and lean forward and the boy and I are annoyed that this oversized pie-like head may cover us. I have to push it back a few times, but when I do, the whole doll, especially the head, seems slightly thinner.

The dreamer still does not have viable memory. He does not question why a giant doll would be perceived as a “real” mother by the boy or comfort him as such. He does not even consider simply moving out of the way of the doll when it leans forward at times. He does not consider why the doll’s head gets vertically flatter when there is no discernible reason for the change. Perhaps he is subliminally aware of the weight of the blanket on his real physical body as he sleeps, and perhaps through the veil of sleep, he indirectly recalls that his youngest daughter has stuffed toys near her as she sleeps. Could this hodgepodge of current neural energy while sleeping be why such a scene is rendered? He also did have concern that his youngest son had enough blankets prior to sleeping. As a doll symbolizes the physical inactivity of someone while in the dream state, it likely is a very distorted thread of memory of his beautiful wife Zsuzsanna, combined with thoughts of his pillow that sometimes seems too flat.

Eventually, I notice that much of the oversized ragdoll is now more like a collection of blankets that fall forward at times, a couple that cover me, though I think the doll is still sitting there. It seems ambiguous, and the round face itself seems more and more like a large flat pillow I push back several times. It does not seem cold. I do not think that the boy will be harmed, only perhaps annoyed by being covered like this. After a few minutes, I am aware that Dennis (half-brother on my mother’s side) is coming into the house. He seems about thirty years old and is dressed like a biker. He wants to show me something. It seems the boy will be okay on his own, though I somehow perceive that Dennis has no interest in the boy’s well-being. I go with him for a short distance after leaving the house. I then decide to fly. Coming out from the house, it is now the King Street boarding house. I effortlessness fly north over Tenth Street South, leaving Dennis behind for now.

The dreamer’s brother had not been to Florida since 1970. Like every other dream feature, it is erroneous, completely removed from any correct timeline. Even more curiously, he walked out from the north end of the open carport in Florida yet simultaneously from the closed porch of the King Street boarding house, not regarded in real life much since 1990 and over 1,500 miles away from the original setting. There is no measure of distance in thought, but that is moot, as the two buildings were somehow perceived as being the same. The dreamer often flies in his dreams as if it was a perfectly natural thing to do. To take to the air to get somewhere else is what he has done often for many years in both lucid and non-lucid dreams, without considering physics or gravity. There is no doubt, but the dream self is not the conscious self, and the rules that dictate that flying cannot be as such do not apply, even if there was some subliminal memory that it was not possible.

I end up in some sort of forest on the other side of La Crosse, which I perceive may be several blocks west of Loomis Street. After walking around and entering a denser area of forest by way of a footpath, I notice that Dennis is already here. He talks to a seemingly homeless person in dark apparel. The unfamiliar scruffy male is sitting at the side of the path, facing outwards from the dense trees. Dennis seems annoyed and may be impatient about something. It has something to do with the other male not owning a motorcycle as he is expected to. There is no fighting, just a conversation. It seems the other male may have sold or lost his motorcycle and is now living in the woods. I walk around and see another clear footpath that leads straight through the densest part of the forest. It seems to be afternoon and the imagery is very clear and beautiful. The path leads east and seems to continue for quite a distance. I can see an open area at the very end that indicates an urban area. Still, after walking around, I decide to fly again.

The dreamer does not question this fictional area of land. The area in real life would be within the same area as the Northside Elementary School (though the area looks much different now than when he last lived there in February 1994). He does not ask himself how Dennis apparently walked there and got there before him.

As I am flying, my focus changes somewhat. I see below me, something that is almost like a life-sized map, showing how the area originally appeared. It was mostly a marshy expanse with no trees for a long time. This changes, as Dennis had planted a number of saplings over time, until it was a dense forest. Curiously, I am aware that no one else, including members of the city council, ever noticed this change other than Dennis and a few biker friends of his. I watch the changes in the map as I turn and fly south.

Looking down on a slowly animated life-sized map superimposed over the bird’s-eye view of the land below does not seem unusual to the dreamer. It is like a visual historical view displaying the changes over time, not following the rules of real-life perception. He does not fly back down to investigate or consider that if he did, he might be in the original treeless marsh as it supposedly was years previously.

I am now aware that it is nighttime even though it had been afternoon moments before. I do not find the change unusual. I am aware of a missile lighting up a small area of the sky to the north, over what I perceive may be a small island, but I still consider it as a threat even though it seems far away. My wife Zsuzsanna now joins me as we run southward. The buildings around us start to shake. They seem to wobble and waver unrealistically, somewhat like exaggerated jelly motions. I think we can escape. We run over the tops of buildings, over the roofs of commercial buildings of various heights, no attention to how tall they are. It seems effortless but annoying. I get the idea to take cover in a boiler room of a commercial building. I sense the ceiling may collapse, but it does not, though there is still shaking. We end up near a breaker panel. I have a fading idea about possibly resetting the main breaker, as if that might somehow make the building more suitable to hide in.

The dreamer’s memory seems more viable now as he recalls Zsuzsanna. There is even a thread of recent memory about North Korea’s missile launches, but little else. His focus on the breaker panel reveals a subliminal awareness of the neural energy within his mind, yet not fully realizing why this thought emerges in the last seconds of his dream or whether it symbolizes “deactivating” his dream, increasing his neural energy and expansion into whole consciousness, or both.

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Morning of April 5, 2017. Wednesday.



I am in an unfamiliar setting; a mostly featureless room that seems somewhat like a basement; that is implied to be either another world or an area near a portal where things can be pushed through to another location by teleportation. There is one other male present but I do most of the work. (The work I do in my dream is so physically realistic, my muscles feel tired upon waking and remain so.)

Firstly, I put a large wrapped ham on a square wooden table. There is a very large cardboard box, as high as my waist and about as wide as a doorway (and slightly wider than the table). We fill it with oranges in several stages. In the last stage, when I pour the last of the oranges in, they form an unlikely conical shape higher than the box height. However, I push them about so that they are soon even with the top, some of them falling into spaces near the corners. The event is otherwise very vivid and realistic, especially in touch and motion.

I am somewhat worried about what a challenge it might be to get the table and box (which are moved at the same time, the table in front while pushing the box) through the doorway portal. I somehow push them up a short flight of steps and through a doorway (though not the portal). After pushing them through a featureless room with a very vivid sense of physical effort, I learn that the destination is not nearly as far away, or as difficult to get to, as I first believed. The other male informs me that the doorway we need is just ahead (even though I had thought I might have to go through several other doorways and bigger flights of steps or even into a different building).

I soon am able to push the table and box full of oranges through a doorway into an unfamiliar classroom. It appears to be high school. The humanitarian work that the other male and I had done is known by at least a couple of the students and the unfamiliar male teacher and briefly discussed. I feel good about having done such a task.

Soon however, an unfamliar male student starts talking and asking the teacher questions about weapons of war, mentioning something about a missile. This annoys me somewhat and it seems like they are not really focused at all on what the other male and I had done. I do not say anything and soon wake.

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