• Lucid Dreaming - Dream Views




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    Blue_Opossum

    1. Steaming Ice Cream and Rooster Salt Shaker

      by , 12-10-2018 at 06:38 PM
      Morning of December 10, 2018. Monday.

      Dream #: 18,984-05. Reading time (optimized): 1 min. Readability score: 75.



      I enter another of several vivid dreams of this date. In this event, I maintain most of my conscious self identity in association with my marriage and family. The setting is unknown. My mother is present. My dream self does not recall that she had died in October of 2002 or that she had never been to Australia or met Zsuzsanna or our children in real life.

      She had bought two cakes in pans with ice cream covering them. I eat some of the darker cake. Zsuzsanna and our three youngest children are present.

      I then go on to eat some of the other “cake” and see that it is now mostly white ice cream that seems to be partially melting. I also notice steam rising from it, and become puzzled. I scoop up and eat a lot of it. Something in the back of my mind makes me question this situation.

      I pick up an interesting object from near a corner of the cake pan. It is a beautiful rooster salt shaker in a crowing stance. There was loose salt around it. (I am wondering if this is another dream with gamma-aminobutyric acid autosymbolism or if it represents sweating in the heat.)

      I wake as I gaze at the rooster salt shaker and find it curious that a place that sells food would give one out for each purchase.



      Of course, a rooster is autosymbolism for the preconscious function and transition of waking up from sleep. How obvious can it get?


    2. From Parking Lot to Smoking Newspapers

      by , 10-23-2018 at 08:04 PM
      Morning of October 23, 2018. Tuesday.

      Dream #: 18,936-03. Reading time (optimized): 3 min. Readability score: 69.



      As my non-lucid dream self, holding no viable threads of my real-life identity, I become vividly aware that I am sitting in the back seat, on the left-hand side, of an otherwise empty car in the Village Shopping Center parking lot in La Crosse. It is nighttime. I become aware that the car belongs to my brother-in-law Bob. (I have not had any contact with Bob since 1994, over twenty years ago.) There are only two other cars present.

      An idea comes to my dream self’s fictitious mind that I should go to the driver’s seat and take the car back to the Loomis Street house. I am feeling very cheerful and confident. I get out on the left-hand side and go around to get in the front seat. (This is really about the typical initiating of subliminal control of the dream state and has nothing to do with waking life or “interpretation.”)

      I get behind the driver’s seat. It is difficult to close the car doors, and I try several times. They are flimsy and not like real car doors at all, but are about as efficient as a dream can make something that stems from vivid non-lucidity. (It would have been better letting the dream play itself at this specific point.) I have no idea how to start the car. I have no key. I first consider that it starts like a lawn mower, but I do not see a recoil starter assembly. There is a small metal lever on the left side, below the steering wheel. I put my foot on the gas pedal and wiggle the lever. Gasoline starts pouring from underneath the full length of the dashboard. That concerns me. I do not want to incur the risk of something catching on fire. I get out of the car, and two unfamiliar men get out of their cars and come over to help me. At this point, as the men check over the car, I anticipate an explosion (an attempt at subliminal dream control), and I tell them to move away, but nothing happens.

      I decide to walk to the Loomis Street house. On the way, walking east on the north side of Sill Street, I notice many boxes of magazines on the boulevard. It is a recurring situation where I realize I can take what I want (as I am deliberately though subliminally creating this scenario at its foundation, knowing it is a dream on one level), as it is left out for garbage pickup. It is also late morning. My non-lucid dream self does not register the impossible time change (as is always the case). I find a stack of magazines that are black-and-white collections of Nancy comic strips (by Ernie Bushmiller). Looking around more, I also notice stacks of interior decorating magazines, which I have no interest in at the time. This part of my dream comes from the lifelong practice of trying to initiate viable emerging consciousness threads by focusing on sustained reading skills of which do not ordinarily exist in the dream state.

      I arrive at the Loomis Street house. My sister and mother are there and seem healthy. My dream self has no recall that they are deceased. A minimal thread of my conscious self identity emerges, but it is rather odd. I vaguely recall the concept of marijuana from Nimbin, yet I have no memory that I have lived in Australia for over twenty years or of my real-life status. (Additionally, I would never try drugs in real life under any circumstances, another factor that validates my dream self is not my true conscious self identity.)

      I have some “marijuana” that I smoke with my mother and sister. It is rolled-up full-sized newspapers. There is trouble keeping them rolled up, and they burn with big flames, though I still suck in the fire and smoke. As I focus, I am astounded by my vivified perception, and yet I am not lucid. I start to become puzzled as I enter enigmatic space (a specific level of the dream state). I realize, though vaguely, that there is no marijuana and that smoking newspaper is odd.

      I start to wake, realizing what my dream self had been creating. Fire is the emerging consciousness and often part of the waking process. The newspapers, at least as related to reading them, are the attempt to sharpen my perception, as I had tried to do in the previous dream segment, but it did not initiate lucidity, only revivification.


    3. “I Have Those Dreams Too”

      by , 12-03-2017 at 09:19 AM
      Morning of December 3, 2017. Sunday.



      This is a set of two dreams of the same sleeping period that need to be approached and studied as a pair, yet where my dream self in the second dream recalls and designates the first as a dream while supposedly being in a real scenario. My first dream is of my current conscious self identity while the second dream is not, which is very strange unless one fully realizes that the personified subconscious (dream self) has no intelligence or viable memory or awareness of time or space. There were other dreams that occurred between these two without any in-dream recall of either of the other two.

      In my first dream, it seems to be late at night. I am in the front room (where my computer is set up in real life), though I am sitting beyond the right end of the desk where I have never sat in reality. My wife Zsuzsanna is also in the room (facing east towards our oldest daughter’s door), closer to the door to our porch. Despite the late time, our youngest son seems to be present as well.

      In a short time, our oldest daughter enters the room through her room’s door. She says there is someone (an intruder) in our house who is following her. In the semidarkness, to my left, I vaguely discern a tall male figure also coming through her doorway. I consider that I must act to prevent him from doing any harm (though I do not know his intentions and he does not speak). I lift up my left leg, swinging it to the left as he continues into the room, which causes him to trip over it. This is a very strange event, because I perceive my leg as being almost as long as the width of the room (though my dream self perceives this as normal). Additionally, my sense of touch and momentum greatly increases as I feel the unfamiliar male trip over my elongated leg to fall to the floor. I soon awake with a distorted but vivid awareness of my physical body, with a soft hypnopompic kick.

      In my second dream, I am in the back seat of a car, possibly also late at night. I am sitting next to the right window. My father (April 26, 1901-February 14, 1979) is to my immediate left and my mother (July 14, 1916-October 2, 2002) is to his immediate left. They appear as they did in the late 1970s. No one else is in the car. I have no recall that they had died and I seem to be about thirty or younger (though I am fifty-six in reality). I am not sure whose car it is. There is a lot of activity to my right. Across the street is a large two-storey house on the corner. The car is facing the intersection that the house is near, though is across the street from the house. I have a false memory that one of my older half-sisters on my father’s side lives there and that my father’s half-brother (Marvin P) is there with my half-brothers (on my father’s side) as well. (Marvin died in July 1965.) There are about a dozen people in the yard and it seems they are visiting my half-sister.

      I talk about my first dream to my father and he nods, saying, “I have those dreams, too”. He goes on to talk about stopping intruders (in his dreams) with his left arm as they come through the doorway and making them fall down. My mother nods and indicates that she has also always had such dreams on a regular basis. My parents seem to have a genuine respect for my interest in dreams.

      My parents get out of the car (from the left side) and go around the front of the car to cross the street to visit my father’s relatives. My father seems to want me to go but I decide to stay in the car. I soon wake.



      My first dream is simply a preconscious event with increased RAS dynamics. This means that my dream was rendered solely to create a spontaneous muscle reaction for biological purposes, at least partly to cause partial waking to change my sleeping position. Most of my current conscious self identity is intact here and my physical nature is greatly enhanced in the waking transition. Still, this dream has a real-life source based on an event of years ago when it was our oldest daughter who alerted me to someone “trying to break in”, though that was not actually the case, only that a large rock was thrown at our southwest window.

      In my second dream, I am passive and in the back seat of a car, which means I am passive to the preconscious, which is not directly rendered let alone with any conflict. I am on the right, thus I am passively within waking orientation (and in fact, I subliminally choose to wake rather than remain within my dream, which could also relate to a need to change my sleeping position), which explains the passive nature of my dream. Talking with my deceased parents (unremembered as being deceased by my ephemeral dream self) about how they have the same recurring dream factors, while in a non-lucid dream, is intriguing, though without any real relevance. The dynamics of this dream relate to events from when I was only three years old despite the mix of erroneous ages of my parents and me.



      This pair of dreams is just a tiny example of how erroneous and skewed memory is in the dream state to the point of being an unexplainable enigma. In my first dream, I am of my present life in a well-rendered realistic sense. In my second dream, even in treating the first dream as a fully recalled non-lucid dream scenario, especially without realizing I am dreaming in the second, I inexplicably have no recall of my present life in the second dream. (My parents being present do not even trigger any sense of reflecting on my personal status). Yet, how could this really be the case if my first dream was fully of my present life and recalled in my second dream? It is a paradox. Since childhood, I have been trying to work out how such common dream state paradoxes are possible. It simply cannot be resolved in conscious afterthought.


    4. Buying my Mother a Dutch Sandwich (fully explained)

      by , 12-02-2017 at 06:02 PM
      Morning of December 2, 2017. Saturday.



      It seems to be afternoon. I am in an unfamiliar restaurant with my mother (July 14, 1916-October 2, 2002) and Marilyn (older half-sister on my mother’s side, April 25, 1942-February 13, 2014). They are facing each other from each side of the booth and closest to the window. I am on Marilyn’s right. I have no memory of their deceased status and no viable link to my current conscious self identity. My dream self seems to be about twenty-five years old (though I am fifty-six in reality). I could assume the location as La Crosse (America), though there is no direct focus or thought about where we are. There is no backstory. (The restaurant scenario indicates mild hunger during sleep.)

      My mother wants me to buy a Dutch sandwich for her from the restaurant directly across the street (perceived as west of where we are, which subliminally aligns to the street as west of where I am in bed in reality). Although I already have some money, she gives me about a dollar and fifty cents in small change, which is apparently what one costs. (My mother never said “Dutch sandwich” in real life as far as I know, and I never bought a sandwich for her in real life. Apparently, a Dutch Sandwich is the term for a tax avoidance strategy that some multinational corporations use to lower their corporate tax liability. I have no familiarity with this term.)

      I leave the restaurant, but instead of crossing the street, I continue north in an odd state of faux lucidity (with thoughts of finding my wife Zsuzsanna, without remembering who she is, for a lovemaking session). (Faux lucidity is when I might do something I would do in a lucid dream but without being aware that it is a dream. It is different from liminal dream control, apex lucidity, and normal lucidity.)

      My dream self falls back into the current scenario of my dream and I decide to buy the sandwich. I cross over to the west side of the street with the intent to walk a block and come back around easterly after walking south for about a block. As I walk along the west side of the street rather than the sidewalk, an unknown Hispanic male walks near the middle of the street to my left. He is carrying an unrealistically long telescope in a case, similar to a tightrope walker using a pole for balance. It seems nearly three-fourths as wide as the street. (There are a few other unfamiliar people walking along to my left.) He accidentally tips it up on the right and bumps the back of my head without realizing it. I do not alert him to this and he walks on ahead.

      I enter the other restaurant. I see a large alcove near the entrance (to my right as I walk in). An unknown female is there. She is sitting near a low-set counter (north). It has about nine sandwiches for sale, sparsely arranged. I stand on her left. (Zsuzsanna is sleeping in this orientation in reality, that is, to my right.) I ask if there is a Dutch sandwich here (directed at the cashier behind me on the other side of the room, not this customer). This customer tells me that she has bought and is eating the last one. On the opposite side of the room are two more unknown females who work there and of whom are behind a high-set counter near the cash register. I absentmindedly walk out of the restaurant with the bottom half of one of the other sandwiches without paying for it. Mayonnaise is on it as well as minimal lettuce. I soon realize what I am doing, walk back in, and give it back to the female closest to the cash register. The purchase area is similar to the Coney Island Restaurant in La Crosse I had frequented years ago (and of the same directional orientation), but my dream self does not note this.

      She tells me that she will make two Dutch sandwiches that I can buy and starts to make them in an area near shelves (about four tiers) opposite the service counter. The other female (more to my right as I face south) asks me about “feather sticks” and if people generally consider them as “lighter”. I assume she is talking about feather dusters, so I nod in agreement. However, she talks about cooking on a gas stove, which puzzles me. She had apparently said “feather steaks” and was asking whether they are “lighter” when fried using a gas stove rather than (presumably) an electric stove. (“Feather steak” could be considered as a flight symbol, which means that the preconscious is inducing dream state waking symbolism, especially as this is a checkout scenario which symbolizes emergent consciousness activation and my dream’s implied precursory exit point, though my dream self remains unaware of this, likely involving RAS, as it is also similar to “feathered serpent” and with “steak” rhyming with “snake”. A snake is the main biological waking prompt via RAS depending on the dream type and depth of sleep. The reference to “lighter” additionally relates to waking symbolism, hovering, and RAS-related inner ear dynamics that typically biologically manifest the falling sensation upon waking.)

      The other female has my sandwiches ready. They are not in any sort of bag and are atop each other (two-tiered construct, symbolizing conscious self identity over fictional dream self identity, which I am vaguely aware of but without a viable trigger). I get out my money to pay for them and see that I am holding several coins (in my left hand) that look more like small disks of sliced salami. I go to give her what I assume to be a dollar coin to start with, but it is apparently only twenty-five cents (as it is about the size of an American quarter). I tell her that I am uncertain of the value of the “coins” because it is not clearly noted on them. (At this point, I have a vague recall of Australian one and two-dollar coins while still puzzling over the variously-sized miniature salami slices as “coins”, though this is not enough to trigger any thread of emergent consciousness despite coins and cash registers at a checkout being a known and very familiar dream state indicator and precursory end marker since childhood.) I decide to get out my wallet and pay with an American five-dollar note. The change I get seems like normal coins, which I put in my right pocket with the “salami coins”. (Getting out my wallet at the checkout is analogous to trying to link to my conscious self identity via my fictional dream self near my dream’s exit point, as an ID is kept in a wallet in real life.)

      As I turn to my left to leave (atypical waking orientation, though Zsuzsanna now sleeps on my right for the first time in years), I notice I am not wearing shoes. I am not sure how or when this happened. I soon find and put on my left shoe, which is near the counter under the attached stools. I accidentally put a girl’s shoe, black with a buckle, on my right foot. (This is a childhood dream association when Brenda was a prescient stand-in for Zsuzsanna.) I realize this, yet accidentally put on a different pair of wrong men’s shoes after taking off my correct left one. (The different sizes of the shoes infer that my feet are actually changing somewhat in size, but my dream self does not notice this. This is similar to teeth falling out, which has no meaning but validates the dream self’s body as being fictional and in a state of cessation and with the inability to speak coherently while unconscious.) Finally, I am satisfied at wearing the right shoes and walk out the door and wake. Thus, the final marker here classifies the ending as doorway waking symbolism, which is common, where a doorway symbolizes the exit point of the dream state. Not wearing shoes is a typical dream state indicator as I do not wear shoes in bed. There are apparent shared dream state energies (or at least subliminal acknowledgment of the dream state), as the girl’s right shoe likely relates to my wife Zsuzsanna being asleep at the time to my right.

      The man with the long telescope is a second-level dream state indicator. It relates to seeing outside the dream state (and is a subliminal form of the emergent consciousness as a precursor to either waking or becoming lucid), but in this case, there is no trigger despite the exaggerated length and even bumping the back of my head. (For example, in an experimental lucid dream from the 1980s, RAS activated by each of my eyes quickly extending out diagonally upwards, each becoming a telescope, symbolizing my connection to discernible consciousness outside of my fictional dream body). The vague association with a tightroper’s balancing pole is symbolic of RAS and mediating between dream state awareness and whole consciousness as related to inner ear dynamics and “not falling” (not waking with the biological falling sensation or hypnopompic kick caused by the shift from unconsciousness to consciousness, the reverse of becoming dizzy and passing out when awake).


      Updated 06-05-2018 at 05:07 AM by 1390

      Categories
      non-lucid
    5. Softly the Flood

      by , 09-28-2017 at 08:53 AM
      Morning of September 28, 2017. Thursday.



      I am in a state of semi-lucidity, slowly becoming aware that our bedroom is transmuting into the northeast bedroom of the Loomis Street house (a place I have not been in real life for over twenty years and unlikely to ever be again). I eventually focus upon the essence of sleep, which in the dream state, is symbolized by water and recognized as such (and has been for over fifty years on a day to day basis). Water begins to flow down Loomis Street from the north. It is a flood, but not a threatening flood. I feel very relaxed and peaceful. I vividly feel small splashes of water reaching me through the window screen, which vivifies my level of dream state awareness.

      There is some sort of unusual ambiguous imagery just outside the window. It relates to a child in pajamas holding a teddy bear, but is viewed through the screen as an undersized silhouette. Conscious self identity threads are lessened and I am no longer lucid in any way regardless of the increase in vividness. I have no major concern about flood waters flowing into the house, only that some of my dream journals might become damp.

      I wander off to the west bedroom where my mother (July 14, 1916-October 2, 2002) is sitting on her bed. In this dream, at this point, I have no memory at all of my older sister Marilyn (April 25, 1942-Februay 13, 2014) whose house it mainly was.

      “Someone left the floodgates open,” I tell my mother somewhat absentmindedly (forgetting that it was me who initiated and released this dream’s content and continuity with deliberate water induction and the original focus on release and blissful relaxation). Although it seemed late at night seconds previously, it now seems to be afternoon as I notice daylight through the window of her room. However, the area beyond the backyard and alley is completely different than in reality as there is no shed visible and no residential homes. All that is visible are some commercial buildings in the distance, about two blocks away.

      My mother makes some sort of comment about access to the store being blocked by flood waters, and there is some sort of vague association with the checkout of a store (a common end marker of the dream state for me). Upon having this semi-lucid thought, and remembering more about my present conscious self and the fact that I am married and have children, I slowly fade from the dream state with soft (semi-lucid) intent and a very soft awakening.



      Water, including non-threatening floods as a dream state induction factor, has occurred continuously all my life, long before virtually endless meditation and relaxation recordings utilized the sound of water to bring about relaxation or sleep. I will hear or otherwise perceive water as soon as I enter into a more relaxed state with less emotions present. Water as the primary symbol for sleep (and sleep dynamics in real time) is also analogous to how people spend the first months of their existence sleeping in the waters of the womb. As a result, it is probably my most common dream foundation marker.

      My mother has, in more recent dreams, become more of a dream state end marker loosely associated with my wife Zsuzsanna than more direct associations with her as in the past. This is evidenced by her mainly appearing in the last scene of a dream where she is sitting on her bed (residual recall of having fallen asleep). Although Zsuzsanna appears in many of my dreams (where more of my present conscious self identity remains at least partially intact), the association with her also being a mother has, over time, altered dream state markers in some cases. However, despite Zsuzsanna having been a mother for a number of years, this symbolic transfer and marker integration is fairly recent (probably because she is now nearer my mother’s age when I was born). Being more of an emergent consciousness precursor than a preconscious factor, there is no conflict in such dreams, especially in already subliminally acknowledging this waking mechanism. (My mother was the one who usually woke me up throughout my childhood.)

      Both watching the non-threatening flood waters flow and the silhouette of the boy in pajamas with the teddy bear represent the same thing…sleep, so this is a type of parallel symbolism that my dreams often render. (Someone being in pajamas was far less of an initiation factor even in early childhood, even being a fan of “Little Nemo”, though other dream state indicators such as beds and pillows are quite common.)

      Even though a shadow of a person or a silhouette represents the lesser presence of my conscious self identity, it is slightly puzzling here as viewed through a window screen. This is because focus on a window screen has been validated to relate to some form of transpersonal communication or shared dreaming. Ordinarily, at least in lucid dreams, I sometimes indulge in “shadow play”; that is, I “test” the shadow to verify that it is actually my conscious self identity and it always is, even in a dream where it was very far away and standing on a bridge.


    6. Fossils Near a Bus Stop

      by , 09-02-2017 at 03:02 PM
      Morning of September 2, 2017. Saturday.

      Dream #: 18,520-03. Reading time (optimized): 2 min.



      My dream, which originated with the water induction process (melatonin mediation association), eventually clarifies as my dream self’s presence in a parking lot with no discernible lake. (However, the first fossil I find relates to the water lowering waking transition, a common form of waking symbolism since early childhood.)

      It is afternoon. I am waiting to get on a bus that is near a shopping mall. My wife Zsuzsanna and youngest son are present with a few unfamiliar people who have not boarded the bus yet. I am sitting about 20 feet from the shopping mall’s entrance. The bus is to my right. (Thus, my dream’s potential exit point is to my right.)

      I dig into the parking lot as if it was soil and find a fish skeleton fossilized in rock. I consider our youngest son would like it. I discover another “fossil” that is possibly a child’s craft project made of plaster of Paris. The impression seems to be from a plastic toy. As I talk about the second fossil not being real, I consider that the first one might not be genuine either. An unfamiliar girl standing nearby seems annoyed and walks off to board the bus.

      Meanwhile, I find a few other “fossils,” which are craft projects. One has an impression of a miniature baseball bat in it which I hold up as I comment. The pattern is about the length of my finger.

      I get up to board the bus. Zsuzsanna is on my left in a seat about halfway back on the left side of the aisle. Our children are also present. My mother is at the front of the bus on the left side, seated closest the aisle. (I do not recall she died in 2002.)

      My mother complains about stomach pain and seems in distress. She moves forward and down in her seat for a short time. I notice that other people near the front of the bus seem concerned. She may need to see a doctor. Two unknown people hold her, one on each side, and help her get off the bus. The bus driver exclaims, “Hey, get back here.”

      The other people are still near my mother as I look off to my left and see her sit down on a wooden bench. I notice there are other wooden benches in an equidistant pattern. They are seen lengthwise, parallel to the bus but facing away from it.



      Zsuzsanna had stomach pain recently. As the bus represents leaving my dream (the bus driver being the preconscious simulacrum and saying “Hey, get back here” as a subliminal correlation with Zsuzsanna’s physicality), I wish to have her pain left behind (despite my mother rendered as this factor). The bus has an Australian association as the driver is on the right (yet my mother had never been to Australia).

      The miniature baseball bat is associated with swinging my arms, gaining the physical energy to fully awake and get out of bed, a form of vestibular system correlation.



      See “- Causes of Dreams - Parking Lot - page 1 -” to understand this dream.


      Updated 04-07-2019 at 11:38 AM by 1390

      Categories
      non-lucid
    7. Socket Repair and my Mother and Classmates

      by , 08-19-2017 at 12:34 PM
      Early evening of August 19, 2017. Saturday.



      I am in an unknown residence but my dream self does not perceive it as unknown. My mother (July 14, 1916-October 2, 2002) is present and appearing as she was in the early 1970s. It seems I am only a boy, perhaps around thirteen. Still, I am working with a computer (and of course I had no home computer at that age in the 1970s).

      A relative (Valerie) comes up near the left of the table as I am typing and says something I do not fully hear. She goes very close to the left side of the computer monitor. After a short time, I see that the headphone jack has pulled out and I have a false memory that it was a very sensitive (easily wrecked) setup. I tell her to go away as I then try to fix it. She yells at her father (David) that every time she listens to him, she gets into trouble. Apparently, she had been relaying something he had said. (The presence of these two characters is illogical, implying a completely different time period than the other characters).

      I become very frustrated as I am trying to work out how to get the jack and socket to work again. The original headphone jack is of the small size, with an adapter of a large jack size fitting over it before going into the socket on the left side of the computer monitor. (This is an unfamliar setup never used in reality.) A few times I think I have it as it should be to work, but pieces come apart and the wires do not touch. There is one point where the smaller jack is just a singular loose tiny cylinder. I notice a number of jacks and socket rings on the table. The ones I need to more conveniently push it all together do not seem to be present.

      I become so annoyed I say that I am about to throw the computer away and give up on everything (and not work with computers again). My mother looks on.

      Soon, I feel vivid touches on my left shoulder and top of my head, as if someone is trying to comfort me as I sit near the table. I look up and see a large chubby and unrealistically bizarre female face grinning at me. I recognize her as a former classmate (Laurie P) who I never talked to much, though she has darker hair in my dream.

      “Oh no, get away from me you horrid ugly…” I say clearly. I am not sure if I have even offended her. She slowly leaves the table without seeming upset. I consider that many other schoolmates may no longer be friendly towards me if they hear of my behavior, but I am not that concerned about it. (There is a vague thought of being unfriended by some of them on Facebook, but this makes no sense in light of the time period I perceive myself in.)

      I eventually seem to have most of the small parts together, but it may not work. Still, I put the jack back into the replaced socket. Bare wires are still everywhere. As I sit down, I sense movement to my left. I end up punching someone in the left cheek with my right fist. The sense of touch and momentum is very realistic. It turns out to be a young version of Sam M, another schoolmate. I immediately apologize, saying that I thought he was David (another schoolmate, not the David mentioned earlier). I mention how I thought he might have been drinking and Sam says that David is sitting in another area of the large room and had in fact been drinking.

      Sam seems to be doing something with my left arm, apparently some sort of medical attention, though I do not recall hurting it. (He seems an odd composite of child and man.) I tell Sam that I hope my punch does not leave a mark. That part of his face is only slightly red. Meanwhile, I notice that my computer monitor’s speakers are hissing but additionally, the normal audio seems to be coming out of both the headphones (on the table) and the computer speakers. (This is due to subliminal awareness of real sound, as our television is on in the next room.)



      Attempting to fix the jack and socket relate to subliminally trying to achieve consciousness by increasing neural activity while in the dream state. Sam’s attention to my left arm relates to the fact that it had a slight ache from having slept on it up to this point (which I am not aware of while still in my dream).



      It is the purpose of the preconscious to wake the dreamer or at least bring attention to the nature of the dream state in real time. Sometimes the preconscious is rendered as a snake to more quickly wake the dreamer with more emotion (such as when my arm has gone numb or is getting pins and needles, though was also a cobra biting my thumb in a dream when I was having pain in my thumb from surgery). There may be other factors, as the preconscious is not always personified as in this dream (Sam). The fact that I am in a dream in early evening likely explains why the preconscious is not as dominant in this case, as I had not entered a longer sleep cycle. (The first appearance as Laurie did not create enough emotion to rise from the dream state. Even my punching Sam in the face only initiated the augmentation of physical awareness to a greater extent and with additional perception of momentum, but it began the needed transition as he doctored my arm.)


    8. Finding a Place for my Mother’s Remains

      by , 08-04-2017 at 09:00 AM
      Morning of August 4, 2017. Friday.



      I am not of my conscious self, though there are a few threads in which I am aware of a few facets of my identity. I am not sure of my implied age; perhaps it is only about twenty. Mostly, I am only aware of my mother. My mother has recently died. However, I think I can talk with her by initiating some sort of will.

      The scene is distorted and my memory is askew. My mother is in the baby cot of our present address, though the baby cot unrealistically accommodates her full height. I do not see it as my present address (even though it is) as I have no discernible memory of my conscious self’s present living location. I speak to her, trying to will her eyes to open, on thought alone. It seems to work at times, but is she really okay with this act, or is she angry at me for “waking” her? Holding her eyes open by my mental will alone eventually seems a bit strange.

      I go into a room that might be considered to be my room in Cubitis, last seen in 1978, although I have no memory or viable association with Cubits and the room is different anyway. I realize that keeping my mother’s remains in the box from the Barnabas Collins “Dark Shadows” board game is proving to be problematic. I do not even consider that, realistically, my mother would never have fit in this little pretend coffin of cardboard. By way of a false memory, I know that other people are known to keep the bodies of the deceased around their house. It is not unusual; it is a tradition, and yet, a part of my mother’s remains have leaked from the bottom of the box, like acid from an old battery, reminding me of my Kenner Easy-Show movie projector being ruined by leaking batteries so that I could no longer repeatedly watch the same short Thor and Flintstones cartoons on my Cubitis bedroom’s south wall. (My mother had told me to throw out my movie projector, which had been a combined birthday and Christmas gift from my older sister Carol, and to not touch the leaking batteries that had ruined it.)

      The gore may be toxic and I am concerned that I had better not eat or touch my face or mouth until I wash my hands, so that no decaying syrupy gore poisons me. I spend a very long time washing and rinsing my hands under the bathtub faucet. The light is bright and I am actually in our present home, though I am not my conscious self and I have no clue to my real life status. I still have to find a place for the Barnabas Collins cardboard container with the plastic lid, which contains my mother’s remains, even though it is just a little box. I have to bury it somewhere. It is in too poor a condition to keep in the open now.

      There is some sort of temporary offset dream, where I find myself living on Barolin Street. Two unfamiliar men seem to think that I have taken their truck. They come in through the back way without even knocking. Apparently, the truck was at the front of my house. I certainly did not steal it. I was not even aware of it. These imposers annoy me. They come back a second time as if I had put it back and taken it again. I certainly had not taken it and tell them so. I do not even know what it looks like.

      I have to take care of my mother’s remains in the little Barnabas Collins “Dark Shadows” coffin. Her whole body somehow fits in there, with room to spare. She is on her back in this toy coffin from a board game that I had not seen in real life for many years. I decide to bury it inside a set of concrete steps in the Loomis Street backyard, which is also somehow the Cubitis front yard at the same time. The small set of steps does not go anywhere in particular.

      For seemingly a long time, as long as it took me to wash my hands, I dig with my hands in the sand. I feel the sand flowing through my fingers. I do not question how a step in a set of concrete steps could be or become sand, but this is where I will bury the toy coffin.

      I dig and dig with my hands, and the oblong hole keeps filling back up, not being quite deep enough for burial. Still, I persist with confidence.

      The concrete steps have somehow separated, and have transformed into, or have always been, small cardboard boxes of mostly paperback Gothic novels. The area of the ground I had been digging in looks untouched, and it is now normal soil. Will this work out?


      Updated 08-04-2017 at 12:19 PM by 1390

      Categories
      non-lucid
    9. Comic Books in the Rain and Matchbox Cars

      by , 07-15-2017 at 06:00 AM
      Morning of July 15, 2017. Saturday.



      My dream starts out on the porch of the Barolin Street house (our previous home of where we have not lived since 2008). This is atypical, as the porch setting, though representing liminal space, is linked to the induction stage rather than the waking transition. As such, it begins to rain (water induction, my most common type, as water symbolizes the real-time dynamics of sleep). I enjoy its essence but I then realize that there are several small stacks of comic books in the north side yard, probably only four or five comic books in each of about nine stacks. Many seem to be Harvey comic books, such as “Casper the Friendly Ghost”. They are arranged in mostly an equidistant pattern (of about six inches apart to each direction) on a very low-set table or thin plywood platform. Zsuzsanna is with me. I realize that I have to run and get them so that they are not ruined.

      When I go out into the rain, I feel very good, even though I have to act quickly. Curiously, the books show no signs of getting wet as I gather them. After I take them onto our porch, my dream changes, and there are far less threads of my conscious self identity present.

      I now seem to be about eighteen years old or younger. My mother is still alive (and I have absolutely no recall of her having died in 2002). Strangely, even though my brother Earl did not die until November 29, 2007, I perceive him (via a false memory and false backstory) as having died when I was a teenager. (Therefore, my mother being alive in my dream and Earl being deceased is a typical error that dreams make all the time.)

      The setting is very sparse in detail and so undefined, there is no discernment of whether it is indoors or outdoors or the typical ambiguous combination that my dream self somehow always perceptually resolves. This “impossible” thinking pattern is not viable when I am fully conscious, and remains a distortion native to the dream state only (though I really cannot understand how this could work despite critical thinking skills not existing in most non-lucid dream types).

      My mother is present at times, including the very last scene. I mostly look at various Matchbox Cars. These are ones my brother Earl supposedly owned while living in Cubitis. (Although I still continuously have dreams based on variations of Cubitis, where I have not lived since the summer of 1978, dreaming of Earl’s house in Cubitis, which was only a few houses south of us, is quite rare.) Earl is present in some sort of ghost form, but otherwise appears to be normal, as he was in perhaps the late 1960s. He only looks on at my activities at times.

      Yet another error in this dream is that I see Earl as being married to his third wife Cindy in this time period (and she is “still” living in his Cubitis house) rather than his first wife Beverly (and in fact, I have no awareness of him being married to anyone else). His ghost form seems to be a natural result of dying; that is, people die, and then they exist as visible “ghosts”, set apart from the physical world, but otherwise just as they were when alive.

      I open a long rectangular cardboard box that is a racing set based on Matchbox Cars. There is a blue racing car that I look at for a short time. I do not think Earl will be angry as I look at his collection.

      In the last scene, my mother is nearby. I play around with two blue Matchbox Car pickup trucks that are identical except for the position of the wings of the oversized white chicken sitting in each pickup truck bed. I get the impression it might be meant to be an advertising gimmick (possibly for KFC). One chicken’s wings are out and horizontal while the other’s wings are down and against its body. The chickens also rotate to spin around the pickup truck bed, and I start spinning them prior to waking.



      Although this non-lucid dream is extraordinarily easy to decode the native meaning of as most of my non-lucid dreams are, I will presently only focus on the last amusing segment. Chickens are birds that cannot fly very well, so are a typical example of “failed flight” (a form of “return flight”) waking symbolism. This is not negative and has nothing to do with conscious self “issues” as “dream interpreters” (not a real concept) seem to like to pretend via the Barnum effect. Waking symbolism as such is an indicator of the anticipatory (though subliminal) nature of hypnopompia, which is a biological process. As a result, bird and airplane symbolism (and flying in general) has been extremely common in my dreams since earliest memory, for over fifty years, continuously occurring in over one in five dreams in the tens of thousands I have studied.

      In this one, there is even an obvious dream sign play, the pickup truck BED, an indicator of being in the dream state, even more so with the oversized chickens on them. Pairs of birds (of various species) have occurred in a number of my dreams. They represent, in most cases, Zsuzsanna and I sleeping together. They are different in their wing status (and in different pickup trucks) in this case due to Zsuzsanna and I being in different levels of sleep (in real time). My mother as my emergent consciousness is likely a vague association with Zsuzsanna prior to waking (as she is a mother to our children). Beds (sometimes in unusual locations) as real-time dream state indicators are also common in Zsuzsanna’s dreams.


      Updated 07-15-2017 at 09:00 AM by 1390

      Categories
      non-lucid
    10. Sorting Through a Lot of Junk (with John Larroquette)

      by , 07-14-2017 at 01:14 PM
      Morning of July 14, 2017. Friday.



      I am in an unknown residence that has a lot of rooms of which are filled with junk that I plan to get rid of. The first setting seems to be a basement (or like a basement), yet is seemingly not underground, though it seems to have a dirt floor at times. There are large long shelves in a number of locations. Much of the junk seems to be parts of picture frames, nails, and documents I no longer need or want.

      In one scene, I seem to be in the northernmost (northeast) room of the King Street boarding house, where I have not lived (in reality) in over twenty-five years. The bed is aligned lengthways along the west wall, head to the north (an orientation never utilized in reality). For the first time ever in a dream, my mother (July 14, 1916-October 2, 2002) is associated with the King Street boarding house as living there in my dream. (Although my wife Zsuzsanna and I have been together in many dreams since we met in reality, including as implied to be living in the King Street boarding house even though she has never been to America, I find it astounding upon realizing my mother had never been in this dream setting as far as I presently know.)

      I had found an outfit (combined sweater and pants) for my youngest daughter and had brought it into the room. My mother seems angry that someone else had apparently thrown it out but is glad that I had retrieved it for use for my daughter’s benefit.

      Later, there seem to be a number of other (unknown) people going through the miscellaneous junk. The actor John Larroquette (as he appeared in the television series “Night Court”) makes an appearance in the final segment. It is mentioned how no one wants most of what is presently sitting about in the large basement-like room.

      “In that case, I’ll take these portraits,” he says, picking up two large slightly damaged portraits of himself (which may have originally been left there either by him or someone else).



      Our daughter was somewhat restless this morning. Her clothes appearing in my dream without her was a possible indicator of her being awake while we were sleeping.

      My mother seems to be the precursor of my emergent consciousness in this case even though my dream self did not recall that she had died in 2002.

      I believe that a dream of cleaning or getting rid of junk is sometimes biological symbolism relating to cellular processes in real time, possibly including a need to get up and use the bathroom.



      The final dream event features coalescence waking symbolism (projected, neutral preconscious). This stems from an analogy with coalescence meditation, of where viewing infinite selves by looking into a mirror on each side is metaphorically resolved as internal unification by then looking forward into the mirror reflecting the one self (in whole consciousness).


    11. Being Calm During the End of the World

      by , 06-26-2017 at 12:26 PM
      Morning of June 26, 2017. Monday.



      I am back on Loomis Street (where I have not been since February 9th of 1994 in reality) within a typically distorted dream-self identity of not being with viable memory beyond that of my eighteen-year-old self. I am in the living room of the Loomis Street house. There had been details that the world will be having strange weather, which has something to do with the sun. At first, my dream seems to be based on only unusual weather approaching, but not that threatening. However, the concept changes, becoming far more dramatic, before my dream ends.

      My mother is alive and seemingly well and in the west bedroom of the Loomis Street house. I have no memory of her passing in 2002.

      It seems to be afternoon. I am in a state where I decide to play around with the world itself by spinning the entire atmosphere, clouds and all, as fast as possible. That is, rather than causing Earth to spin faster or to slow down, it remains at its present rotation as I spin the sky around, north to south. The clouds are white and fluffy against a bright blue sky. The realism is extraordinary as I look out through the porch windows and watch the clouds dart across the sky as I willfully spin the atmosphere. I am doing this to show a few other (unknown) people what might soon be happening naturally due to the celestial events. This goes on for several minutes.

      Eventually, the celestial changes come and the sky changes. Very unusual clouds appear in the sky. I sense people’s fear while not feeling threatened myself.

      For a time, the sky looks much like an analogue television screen that is not fully on the channel. That is, there are diagonal lines and flickering bars across the sky. There is one very loud thunderclap. Looking at the sky again, it resembles an empty multicolored spreadsheet, with each cell randomly billowing downwards slightly, the whole expanse with somewhat of a wavering effect.

      I know I should see my mother. She sits in her bed in her room and seems upset, saying how it is “the end of the world”. I do not feel any sense of fear or even concern for humanity. I calmly accept the fate of the world and of myself.



      It is obvious that this dream utilizes liminal dream control and originates mainly from my current conscious self identity and understanding of the dream state (virtuous circle effect) than anywhere else (even though I have no memory beyond my late teenage years while still within my dream). That is, I know I am creating my dream, and yet my dream self identity is not aware of this at a viable level. It partly comes from having looked at a childhood dream from 1971, that was in turn, based on having seen the movie “Crack in the World”, the childhood dream association of which also influenced at least one other dream of this date.

      The evidence is not only obvious, but continuous on different levels. Firstly, I am able to spin the entire sky with no effort. Secondly, the sky then becomes like a television display not being on the channel. This is direct evidence that I view the sky as something I can willfully change as if with a television remote and that my thoughts are still based around liminal dream awareness. Then, the next stage utilizes an emergent focus on critical thinking skills (which do not viably exist in the dream state) when the sky then becomes like a multicolored spreadsheet, as if waiting for my conscious thinking skills to ascend and fill it with organized data. This same focus makes me subliminally aware of the waking symbolism - that is, dream state cessation as an “end of the world” metaphor (which has been a common form of waking symbolism since early childhood). (Why would dream cessation symbolism relate to the conscious self in a negative context? This is the ridiculous mistake I have seen people continuously make all my life with so-called interpretation, which I learned to dismiss at a very early age in light of truth.)

      The fact that my dream self has no fear of this supposed end of the world is more evidence of liminal dream awareness and potential control being a major factor. Why should I care if my dream ends? It is a perfectly natural event. Even more obvious is the “return to bed” metaphor (yet another subliminal thread of acknowledgement of being asleep in reality), even though, in this case, it is typically distorted to a different time and characterization. The real puzzle still remains. What determines the status of my dream self (regarding altered age and time distortion factors)? What determines when and where any precognitive threads (or “input” from the collective unconscious or the Source) dominate the patterns?


      Updated 05-14-2018 at 06:45 PM by 1390

      Categories
      non-lucid
    12. Up and Down the Stairs and Skewed Science-Fiction

      by , 06-01-2017 at 12:30 PM
      Morning of June 1, 2017. Thursday.



      This dream is, in part, a sort of skewed carryover from another recent dream (“In a Science Group with Three Strangers”, from May the 31st, 2017). The same fictional characters appear, two unknown males and an unknown female. (Both the first part of this dream and the previous dream relate directly to studying the dynamics of sleeping and dreaming in real time, though while non-lucid.)

      This dream is too distorted to make much sense of. There is something about them hanging around where my mother is sleeping. It is an upstairs area. I remain annoyed at these people throughout this segment. I even kick one of the males so that he slides down the stairs, though he is not fatally injured. I do not go down the stairs myself (which sometimes serves as a lucidity trigger, though otherwise vivifies my dream, as the usage of a staircase in a dream relates directly to shifting one’s level of consciousness while in the dream state, just as it does in certain forms of hypnosis and guided meditation.)

      This scene shifts to a completely distorted and skewed continuity combining science-fiction with “real life”. I am in an unknown area and there is some sort of backstory of the world becoming too cold for people to comfortably live.

      I know I can help (without being lucid). Floating in the sky about ten feet above the ground is a very large holographic globe of Earth, which, for some reason, I perceive as the “real” Earth. (This of course makes no sense, as how could I be on Earth and also see Earth in the sky?)

      Captain Picard (as from “Star Trek: The Next Generation”) in a Runabout, flies out from the holographic but “real” Earth to the right of it (in my perspective) and towards my direction (though there is no direct contact or communication). He seems concerned.

      I decide to “fix” everything by waving my right hand and creating heated air currents from a fair distance away from the floating transparent globe, which form in a presumed S-shape, top to bottom. (This is very similar to how I mentally repaint walls in non-lucid dreams). I stand in one spot, hoping that these patterns will correctly cover the whole world to make it warm enough for human survival (even though the globe is not rotating).



      It has become cooler here in reality. The holographic Earth comes from Zsuzsanna and I having just watched a couple episodes of “The Librarians” where a large holographic globe is featured. Many of my dreams are directly influenced by television (though probably not the majority) even though I do not watch it that much (certainly not nearly as much as others).


      Categories
      non-lucid
    13. Teenage Days But Not Really

      by , 05-08-2017 at 08:05 AM
      Morning of May 8, 2017. Monday.



      Once again, my life status changes upon becoming unconscious and I am perhaps implied to be around fourteen years of age. The dynamics of my memory are different as always. This combination of dream state amnesia and the total loss of critical thinking skills and any hint of intellect is typical of non-lucid dreams.

      I am in the Cubitis living room and I believe it is nighttime. My mother (deceased in 2002) is alive and well. My father (deceased in 1979) is also alive but not present at first. Over time, I hear what may be shotgun blasts in the distance, perhaps somewhere in the cow pasture to the east. There are additional similar sounds, not quite identifiable. I do not have that much concern. (I was not able to validate if real sounds in the environment, such as car doors slamming, were responsible for this segment, but it seems likely.)

      I grasp the doorknob of the front door. My sense of touch is greatly enhanced. I twist it to make sure it is locked. Later however, I realize that my father is coming home at some point, so I unlock the door, making sure the doorknob turns all the way around. I even open the door slightly and close it again.

      I go into my room and look out the north windows. My father is sleeping in the back seat of a car, his head to the north. I am somewhat puzzled and I do not know how long the car had been there. (As my father represents my conscious self identity in certain cases now that I am older, this simply represents the fact that I am actually asleep.)

      I go through the back door and into the area of what would be the square concrete platform and the side yard at the south (and the utility room to the east), except that it seems like some sort of open porch with a lot of random furniture stored. It seems morning now even though it was night just moments before.

      A neighbor drives into their driveway. Only Don M is present. He gets out of his car and comes over, saying, “My man!” as a friendly gesture. However, he then gives me an odd look and starts to move a desk out of my family’s fictional storage area as if we are not supposed to have it. For a time, he drags it upside-down from one end. I help him for a short time. (In reality, they had given us some furniture in 1973, including a pale teal-colored desk that I kept the largest dream work notebook binder volumes in, as it had a bookcase on the left side. Apparently, perfume had spilled all over it and they no longer wanted it, plus the drawer was missing. The smell did not wear off for a long time.)



      This dream type is in great contrast to other dream types (and as such, has its own associated mood), mainly being a subliminal reminder that I am sleeping as well as being a “denial review”. That is, my dreams often reveal what I am not (when awake as my conscious self) rather than what I am. (For example, when awake I am…not asleep, not in the “back seat”, not living in Cubitis, not with my parents, not involved with Don M’s daughter, not having furniture taken from me, not a teenager, and so on.) All the characters here (other then my dream self) are deceased in reality.


    14. Of Caterpillars and Beaded Curtains

      by , 11-14-2015 at 09:59 AM
      Morning of November 14, 2015. Saturday.

      I am not sure of the setting. There is a generic one-storey house I think, with a front porch. In this first part of my dream, I am outside on a bed and looking at the front of the house from the right of it. There are large tree branches coming out of the house from an area that had seemingly been a vent (above the porch) as well as from a couple windows. The tree probably takes up a lot of space inside the house but I do not go in. (The later room setting does not seem like a part of this house, though it is possible it is implied to be - there is no tree visible at that point though.) There is also a tree just outside the house. I get the impression of one of our cats (Franco) moving in the branches of both trees.



      I am recording something important on a cassette recorder feature (while lying on my side on my bed outside the house), some sort of singing or chanting from an unknown source. The voices are feminine and possibly related to spiritual growth or empowerment. I have slight difficulty (but not that annoying as I do not become angry) with the portable stereo’s cassette player relative to the record and play buttons, which must both be pressed at the same time with the same speed and pressure. There is a “pause” button between “record” and “play”, “record” being the last in the row and it is a bit problematic (counter-intuitive) to use as such. This is not a typical cassette player design (of the few different layouts I have used in real life), yet the highly illogical nature of the layout does not trigger lucidity. I accidentally press rewind a couple times, but it does not matter as long as I eventually record the sounds, since they apparently repeat anyway (though I am not sure how long they will continue). During this time there is something about interesting magazines (relating to either science-fiction or satire or both) coming out of nowhere, possibly based on particular sound patterns. This makes me more optimistic and cheerful for whatever reason.

      Later, after being with my wife for a time, my dream shifts to me seemingly being a teenager again, possibly around sixteen. I am in a room with my mother though cannot be certain of the setting’s location (as it seems only vaguely reminiscent of the southwest room in Cubitis though also vaguely reminds me of a motel room my family stayed in on our way to Florida when I was six years old and she was surprised by an unlikely tarantula on the wall). There are a few large green spiny caterpillars crawling about (mostly on the wall), a couple much longer than they would be in reality. These are supposedly the most venomous in the world and are called “Slaughterhead” caterpillars (of which I have absolutely no memory of ever having heard this term before). (In real life, it was “puss caterpillars” or wooly slugs we had to put up with - also called “saddle socks” by a few locals but that name cannot be found on the Internet and is possibly wrong as one local ridiculously called oleander caterpillars “centipedes" and warned my mother about them - my father had been stung by a puss caterpillar by accidentally putting his forearm down on one on a table in June 1978, but amazingly rode out the pain and did not want to go to the hospital.)

      After a time, there is a caterpillar on me, near my shoulder. My mother bravely takes it off without being stung (as if she was used to doing this - though she did check me for ticks when we lived in Chipmunk Coulee). Later, one crawls on her and she takes it off. Another one, nearly a foot long, is crawling on her side, but my dream shifts to where my gaze is fixed on beaded curtains. (There is also a point where I study my mother’s facial profile and contemplate her being very old. I find it slightly disconcerting but not that emotional - with no memory she died in 2002).



      I stare at the beaded curtain and notice that most of the beads are either the number three or the number four (each bead in the shape of the number I think, as the depth perception is fairly discernible), seemingly arranged randomly. I very clearly see each (of many) number three and number four figures (all identical in size - no distortion in any number or feature) in each long vertical beaded string of about a dozen hanging down across a part of the room (seemingly not in a doorway but as a room divider). (Although there are various styles of number beads in real life, I am vaguely puzzled over this feature.)
    15. Falling Bowl of Cereal

      by , 09-15-1973 at 03:15 PM
      Morning of September 15, 1973. Saturday.

      Dream #: 2,462-02. Reading time: 40 sec.



      I am in the living room in Cubitis, at the table in the center of the room. My mother is sitting on the north end, typing a letter to an older relative. My father is working on wall paneling.

      A bowl of cereal (with milk) somehow quickly comes down from the ceiling (or through it somehow, although there is no sign of a hole or “portal”). It falls and spills over the tiled floor. My mother expresses annoyance over the disruption of her writing by the inexplicable event. She seems to momentarily but silently blame me. I am also surprised and cannot understand how it happened. It appeared to be falling “from nowhere,” as if in mid-fall just below the ceiling.



      Following are scenes (where I am incorporeal) of moving through several doorways in the ceiling of our house. It seems mazelike. (This is imaginary, as our real ceiling space was not high enough to stand upright. There were no doorways, either.)



      dream type: something coming down


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