Blue_Opossum

Morning of October 17, 2016. Monday.



The time seems to be early afternoon in all the outdoor scenes. In the first scene I am in our residence but I am not sure where it is implied to be. Our youngest son Oliver has a large terrarium that extends from floor to ceiling though it looks like an aviary. It is directly in the corner of the left side of the room, about two and a half feet square. He seems cheerful. Zsuzsanna is concerned about him seeing the turtle he had brought home the day before. I look in and notice that the turtle seems propped against the back of the cage on the right. It is on its right side and a bite had seemingly been taken out of it, shell and all, probably by another animal in the cage. I am not sure what to do with it but Oliver does not notice.

My attention falls on weird animals in the cage. There are a few spiders with black disk-like bodies, the bodies of which are almost as big as my fist, though their legs are nearly three feet long. The legs are thin and closely paired so that it looks like they have four legs instead of eight. One seems positioned head down, its legs on two different large branches so that I mostly view it from the top of its body. I look to the right side and notice that the cage, at least on that side, is designed more like the front of a jail cell with the bars sparse enough for any of the animals to easily leave the cage. The side facing me does not seem of this appearance. I comment on how they could get out, but it does not bother me that much.

In the second scene, the personified preconscious appears as an unknown male of about my age and is presently sitting in another area of the room, though does not yet attain a more dominant presence. I watch three mole crickets crawling about on a pillow. Two are their natural color but the smallest of the three, in the middle, is pure white. I reflect on the idea of them possibly crawling on a person in their sleep, but there is not that much concern. A mole cricket is a tertiary dream sign that symbolizes going deeper into sleep in real-time, two of them symbolizing Zsuzsanna and I but the white one in the middle representing moon induction (circadian rhythms factor) and shared dreaming on the spiritual level as analogous to the Blue Pearl event (inviolable telepathy between soulmates, specifically twin flames as Zsuzsanna and I are).

The personified preconscious points to an unrealistically large detached crab spider head facing us from the right side of a pillow across the room on a bed perpendicular to the bed I had been looking at near the center of the room. “Something should be done about that head on the pillow,” he says. Despite this incredibly obvious dream sign of him directly exposing his role as the personified preconscious, my dream self remains completely clueless and no lucidity is triggered.

In the next scene, we end up in a small dimly lit room which has the essence of liminal space (even though I am not near waking yet). He sits on a wooden chair while I seem to sit cross-legged on the floor. I am facing him as he talks about money but he seems sarcastic about a certain business I do not know the name of (although he had apparently said it a few times but my dream self remains unaware of some of what he says). He seems to mimic advertisements and promotional gimmicks. “Make lots of money,” he says, mocking the original supposed speaker and waving his arms around seemingly in frustration. “Have you heard of Amway?” I ask him after watching and listening to his routine for several minutes. He glares at me as if I am unbelievably stupid and had not heard a word he had said, as Amway is apparently what he had been talking about all that time. I feel embarrassed but try to explain that I had heard him, though my pretense is not very convincing.

In the next scene I find myself near an intersection having apparently mowed our front lawn recently. My (fictional) house is on the street that is perpendicular from where I am standing near a bus stop. I contemplate how I have to mow this whole area, but after a short time, I realize that it is not my responsibility and the city council will do it at a later date. Despite being near the bus stop, I am not interested in (subliminally) shifting consciousness. However, five young people get off. They do not regard me at this time.

Despite my cursory faux memory and brief acknowledgement of my dream house (which seems vaguely based on the Loomis Street house though the rest of the area is not as such), I soon go into the backyard of our present house, though the gate is on the wrong side; at the north end of the fence near the southwest corner of our house instead of the south end near the northwest corner of our shed. A young unfamiliar black woman, who seems to be a teacher, is there with Zsuzsanna. Zsuzsanna has seemingly been given something that was stealthily taken from the personified preconscious. It seems conspiratorial. There are apparently two batches of mail-order pills. I take the two packages from Zsuzsanna’s left hand. One of them is a C4 manila envelope (yellow) padded with bubble-wrap and the other is a white C8 envelope with lesser bubble wrap. I open the larger package to find that it contains several cylindrical prescription bottles of pills of some kind. (None of us take prescription pills in real life.) There is also a receipt. I look at it and read it closely. “These pills cost eighty-six dollars a fortnight,” I say, seeing the total price listed as $86.00 under $79.95 and the shipping and handling fee of $6.05. “It's eighty-six.”

I fail to recall that eighty-six is the number implemented when the personified preconscious gives up on my non-lucid dream self (having “eighty-sixed me”), thus no coalescence, implicit or not, at the waking stage. This is validated by the fact it comes in the mail, which represents communication between dream self and whole conscious self identity.

The preconscious essence flows into the five children (and I do not focus on the fact that we have five children although these children are unfamiliar) who had gotten off the bus earlier and so naturally they approach our home to impose upon us to try to get me to either wake or become lucid. Zsuzsanna and I are sitting on chairs outside of our fence, our backs to it, our youngest daughter and youngest son sitting between us (which is not something we had ever actually done). A boy somehow throws a large mattress fairly high into the air above our heads (probably subliminally associated with our youngest son now sleeping on the top bunk of a bunk bed), but it misses us in coming down, landing immediately to Zsuzsanna’s right. I get the impression that he had been trying to throw the mattress over our fence (beyond liminal space and out of the immediate level of consciousness). I still do not grasp such an obvious dream sign. “Are you trying to kill someone…such as a baby?” I yell angrily at the boy.

The entire orientation soon changes without a clue on my part. We are now all in our backyard on our side of the fence yet the five children (who must have teleported with us) are now leaving through the gate, the boy somehow carrying the mattress again (which does not at all resolve logically from a conscious viewpoint since he is seemingly carrying it on his right side as he would a textbook). I am so angry that I decide to follow them. As soon as I step outside of the gate, my consciousness shifts into the waking stage and I realize I had been had.

Morning of July 4, 2014. Friday.



I am with my wife Zsuzsanna in the garage on Duffy Street where we lived when we first came to Bundaberg. There is a (fictional) large aquarium aligned along the wall on the opposite side from our main door. There are a few interesting plants and about four or five main types of creatures.

The water is very clean and clear. Two giant mole crickets, a little longer than my hand (and my veiw of them seemingly magnified), are swimming near the bottom. The detail is amazing and vivid though I am not lucid. Zsuzsanna comes out and actually grabs one and lifts it from the tank but puts it back a little later. It is almost like a lobster (or at least reminiscent of one). There is no concern or uneasiness of any kind.

Our garage door is open and several unknown neighbors walk by outside, a couple seemingly living where we would be living relative to the direction they came from, though they are visiting the other apartment in front.

Eventually however, one unfamiliar male neighbor comes in and soon shuts our garage door behind him which I feel is a bit imposing but I do not say or do anything regarding this act. He reminds me of a celebrity in my dream but I do not now recall who it would be, possibly Sam Neill as he appeared in “Jurassic Park” but I am not certain.

He gives a warning about one type of life-form in our aquarium, claiming it is very venomous. I look down and see that he is pointing to and talking about a cluster of brownish to rust-colored and kite-shaped fuzzy plant-like creatures that seem to open and close near the “top” of the kite shape (the kite shape having slight inward arcs on all sides). I am not that concerned and I am not sure if he is correct. I do not remember what he calls them. I say something absentmindedly about “Little Fuzzies” in relevance to the 1962 science-fiction novel “Little Fuzzy” by H. Beam Piper. I am not sure what the connection is; it seems mostly that I am just forcing conversation to lighten the situation.

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Update: I am documenting this as postcognitive (precognitive in light of my own perspective) on my main journal only, as I actually brought up a cover in Google which I had never seen before that features a large lobster-like creature with a “Little Fuzzy”. Seeing something directly from a recent dream in quite precise patterns (relative to in-dream context and associations, often ridiculously trivial or impersonal) has happened on a day to day basis all my life, so often that I often do not even mention it, but decided to here because of the higher unlikelihood.

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Morning (and afternoon) of February 14, 1972. Monday. Valentine’s Day. (Last resupplemented for clarity on Friday, 1 September 2017.)



A stomach virus had rendered me very ill. I had severe stomach pain and my dreams were, as can be imagined, rather unusual.

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My main dream involved me being in surgery at an unknown hospital. A bright light overhead sometimes seemed to make my head hurt slightly. Over time, there were at least six doctors of both sexes working on me from both sides of the cold metal table I was lying on.

Over time, I seemed to be “pregnant”. I am not sure how I, as an eleven-year-old boy, could be pregnant, but this seems to be the case or at least the association. The surgery I am undergoing seems to be related to my apparent “cesarean”. I am somewhat wary of what is to come as I lie on my back hoping the pain will ease off.

Later, I look down at my navel as I feel my pain defined more densely in one area of my abdomen. From out of my belly button emerges a large mole cricket. (Mole crickets were common where I lived and I used to pick them up a lot and let them tickle me by trying to “dig” between my fingers though it was never painful). As I watch, there is a bit of blood and sand around my belly button as it crawls out. Apparently, I will not need surgery now, as the “birth” unfolded without a need for a cesarean. I am not quite sure what to make of it all. Congratulations to me, I gave birth to a mole cricket. Intriguingly, the pain was gone in real life after this dream.

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An earlier part of another dream of this date was also odd. It involves some sort of thin wooden female idol about eleven inches high (somewhat African in appearance, but also somewhat Maori-like) that is continuously moving about, rotating and bending (vaguely reminding me of mosquito larvae in water). It seems to only be able to bend at the waist. It seems to be “dancing” to a reggae instrumental version of “Puttin’ on the Ritz”, sometimes with an “uh uh uh” human chorus. (It was at least partly but loosely based on the “Sesame Street” cartoon “Water!”, which, at the time of this writing, has the YouTube ID of LEoy_Kaglxc). It soothed me over time, almost like a healing ritual. (There was an association with the “Water!” cartoon possibly due to being partly dehydrated, though I seem to recall an additional similar short film which I cannot trace.)

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In another previous dream, there was also a concern for the imaginary loss of my father (who seemed to be missing but actually was there when I was ill), who actually did die on Valentine’s Day, though years later in 1979. I had also been thinking a lot of my sister Marilyn who died on the 13th but Valentine’s Day in 2014 in Australia where I live now. (I had an unlikely idea all my life that my sister Marilyn and my father would die on Valentine’s Day but probably in different years and this idea became oddly enhanced when it was her that first told me of my father’s death in the middle of the night, waking me from sleep, though I had certainly never told anyone about this idea.)

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In real life, my teacher came by after school (I had not gone due to my illness) and gave me a large cardboard box full of Valentine’s Day cards from nearly everyone in the whole school (including from schoolmates of whom I am sure did not even like me).

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