• Lucid Dreaming - Dream Views

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    1. Annabelle

      by , 03-04-2020 at 02:46 PM
      Morning of March 4, 2020. Wednesday.

      Dream #: 19,434-02. Reading time: 1 min 24 sec.

      My final passive lucid dreaming event (before I allow it to dissipate) in the first stage of my sleep cycle includes audio only (with no imagery or physicality): “I’ll stay with him until he dies.” (It is the preconscious cue closing the final gate to conscious awareness in entering deeper sleep. The first hour or so of every sleep cycle all my life has consisted of vivid lucid dreams of various types.) The unfamiliar voice is masculine but somewhat artificial as the formant is too high (though still coarse) to sound human.

      Later, instinctual awareness of being asleep results in an unusual scene implied to be from a movie. It features a male high school principal’s corpse on the top shelf of a hall closet. It seems someone may have killed him. It is the rendering of a sleep simulacrum, which is a factor of every sleep cycle. He represents the cessation of cognizance and the lack of discernible physicality while asleep, though sleep simulacrums only stem from mortality analogies with emergence from a deeper sleep.

      As an additional result of that process, a parallel analogy emerges into my dream’s imaginary narrative. The Annabelle doll appears in an undefined room. (The association is that physicality is not feasible while asleep, so I am like a doll.) However, it is not ugly (as in the movies). It is about the height of a six-year-old and has blood on the shoulders of its dress. There is another (unknown) male doll of about the same height. Throughout this scenario, there is only cheerfulness in my belief I am guiding the continuity of a movie. Even so, I instinctually anticipate somatosensory dynamics and pick up both dolls (which vivifies my dreaming experience), and I walk through the mostly featureless room.

      As I carry the dolls, my instinctual awareness of imaginary proprioception increases, and as a result, I find an antique pair of roller skates (the kind without shoes). I put my feet on them, and as I am doing this, my dream becomes increasingly vivid. Eventually, after some realistic movement, my dream fades without discernible waking dynamics.

    2. The Butler did it

      by , 07-21-2018 at 09:00 AM
      Morning of July 21, 2018. Saturday.

      Reading time: 3 min 2 sec. Readability score: 80.

      In my dream, I am Cadbury (the butler) from “Richie Rich.” Nothing in my dream had anything to do with anything that had been on my mind lately, though was based on dream representations from many years ago. It was surreal but intriguing.

      Two girls are visiting a neighboring castle in one scene, though the backstory implies that their father does not want them here. They live in the castle where I am serving as a butler. I am in an unusual room that looks as if it is part of a garage. The girls are annoyed when two of their pets come over; a dog (like Toto from “The Wizard of Oz”) and a cat (our youngest cat from real life). They are talking to the owner of the castle when this occurs. I take the blame, and they make comments while calling me Cadbury. Perhaps I had left a door open. The girls round up their pets, and we make our way back to our castle.

      We come to an area where we have to walk on a very narrow ledge before reaching the front entrance of the castle. It is high above a large body of water. Without giving it much thought, and before getting onto the ledge, I push one girl (the one carrying the dog) so that she falls to the water far below. The other girl does not notice and keeps going despite how difficult it is to stay on the ledge. Her cat walks across on its own. I realize that I am carrying a small empty plate in my right hand. I let it go, as I have to have both my hands free to hold onto the corner as I put my legs around to stand on the ledge. It falls far below into the water as well. I vaguely wonder if it will serve as evidence if they find it, as it would have my fingerprints on it. I soon become very annoyed in trying to walk on the narrow ledge and decide that I have to try to get into the castle by a different route.

      I find myself walking on parts of a submerged house. It is near another small residence. The castle is now at a distance. I try to balance myself as I eventually find myself walking in another area near the castle. It is an entire section of the castle that had also been submerged on purpose and is face up. It had been this way for many years. There may have been a conspiracy with the past residents of the castle. Thus, this big section was deliberately submerged. Despite its size, it still moves up and down somewhat as I walk upon it. As I walk, I make larger and larger waves that eventually slam into the castle, going under the door. The sense of weight and momentum and the setting, in general, is incredibly vivid and realistic, as is the sound and movement of the water.

      “Cadbury, what have you done?” calls out a voice. The large wooden door opens, sliding upward. Two unknown men are present. I see mud on a big television to the right, but I see no evidence of water anywhere, even though an extensive amount had just washed under the door. “You were told not to use this entrance,” one man says. I assume he is the owner of the castle and my boss.

      We stand near the entrance. One man gives me a drink that seems to be red wine. The castle owner makes some derogatory comments about me and wants me to clean the area.

      “I shall be taking my leave of you, sir,” I say formally. “I do not like you, and I do not like this place.”

      The other man says I can still stay and seems very friendly. I wake at this point.

      The last part is the typical meeting of my dream self with the preconscious and in this case, the interconsciousness as well. The preconscious avatar, whose task it is to wake me with dominance and annoyance in some cases, is my “boss.” The interconsciousness is often more cheerful and helpful.

      It partly relates to marrying and being with Zsuzsanna instead of a classmate. There is too much to it to get into here. Zsuzsanna (before I met her in waking life) pushed Susan off a castle structure. That castle was in orbit around Earth.

    3. Calling Cards for Murder

      by , 07-02-2018 at 01:02 PM
      Morning of July 2, 2018. Monday.

      Dream #: 18,823-02. Reading time: 2 min 45 sec.

      The first part of my dream is the impersonal perception of unfamiliar people traveling together (the cause stemming from passively watching television in waking life). My preconscious and emergent consciousness begin to form a surreal directive as I maintain a minimal level of subliminal (non-lucid) dream control.

      There is an abstract process of taking a scene from this “movie” (that I perceive as “real”), where the unknown people are playing cards - to phase the scene like mid-side audio polarity reversal to hear (or see) the isolated elements. It is by separation of MID and SIDE rather than stereo separation of left and right, with the SIDE raised one decibel in the overlaid wave of reversed polarity, as that would be the only element that would remain. Although this is a real process, it makes no sense to use it on three-dimensional imagery that would otherwise be by molecular polarity reversal or additive and subtractive color wavelength manipulation.

      I find myself entering a big dark room that seems a part of a college. At a desk, I find an eerie setup. Someone unknown has been killed and is apparently on the floor near me, though I do not see them. The young people of the previous scenes committed the crime. There is a business card on the desk that I can read clearly.

      It says, “Use your bed sheet as a sail on your sailboat for your journey through your dreams.” As I read this and study the message (in this case, the printed words do not change as in other dreams where I read), I feel an intense awareness of happiness and knowledge, almost bringing me to tears.

      To my left on the desk is a little box with a stack of business cards that may include different messages. The top card and sides of the pile have small blood spots. There is also a knife with bloodstains, presumably the murder weapon. It is all part of a tradition similar to chain letter fraud that involves moving the evidence to a different crime scene as these other people travel and commit offenses while leaving evidence from different ones to confuse the authorities, though there is also the concept of others involved in other regions. I am supposedly a part of this, though I do not know the other people or the victims.

      I decide to leave, and I place the knife, single card, and box of cards in impossibly large pants pockets. The pockets now protrude, and I consider that I look conspicuous. I pull a trench coat over the front of my body to cover up the pockets in part. Later, I have to carry the box under my left arm.

      When I leave the building, I walk through the large entrance hall. Two other people are present; an unfamiliar man and woman (who are preconscious “watchers” without active sleep processing mediation); though they do not approach me. Liminal dream state awareness is briefly present, enough to remind me of the nature of vestibular system adaptation in using a flight of steps. As a result, rather than triggering enhanced awareness, there are metal bars as a cul-de-sac around the bottom of the staircase that extends a few feet from the building over a concrete platform surrounded by lawn. That puzzles me, but I manage to slide under the bottom horizontal bar on my back, from the concrete to the grass of the outside college grounds. (I had briefly slept on my back during this situation, though I usually sleep on my left side.)

      I walk around on the street; slightly wary of the box of cards I have in my impossibly large right pants pocket (as in being possible evidence against me). I am now carrying additional items under my left arm. It is as if I have more than two arms, with another “arm” carrying something in front of me.

      Dream signature: Sleep simulacrum as dead body, thinking skills emerging (reading at desk), dream state indicator as dream reference related to water induction, wall mediation, passive preconscious mediation, vestibular system adaptation (using staircase), wall mediation (sliding under fence).

      Updated 07-08-2019 at 05:08 AM by 1390

    4. An Incompetent Murder Investigation (Revelatory)

      by , 02-07-2014 at 08:07 AM
      Morning of February 7, 2014. Friday.

      In my dream, I am brought in as a murder suspect of an unknown teenage female. I spend most of my time in my dream standing at a counter (walking a short distance from it now and then in the same large room) of a type very similar to the local library’s but inverted (the setting already being a clue that my dream will resolve to “choosing books”); that is, forming an inward angle of over one-hundred-ten degrees (not ninety; that is, not a square angle as the counter’s division relative to the two walls is not perpendicular), spanning across a corner of a large room, though the counter section on the left is of a shorter length. There are two main (unfamiliar) male investigators that go through various role-playing and questioning sessions with me, sometimes seemingly forgetting what they were saying or doing (or planning to do). It seems that nearly a day goes by, and I spend all my time standing or walking and am even clearly aware of the tiredness in my legs later on.

      One of the reasons I was brought in as a suspect was because I was “chubby”. Their reasoning is that someone who is chubbier is “naturally” more likely to overtake a weaker or smaller person.

      I am eventually vividly aware that they are wasting their time to too great of an extent for it to be a “real” investigation and at one point they also seem aware of this, but I seemingly am meant to have patience as if it is a game. I have no clear thoughts on who the actual criminal might be, although I do sense he is possibly a very chubby older single male. I tend to waver between complaining in a hostile manner to expressing a patient understanding of their methods.

      I am asked to write my version of something the older detective says to see if my writing matches a note the killer supposedly wrote and left near the victim in writing style as well as what I write. He tells me that I do not have to write exactly what he says but how I would naturally write my version of what he says, which is quite strange because one of the choices is to write “jellyfish” or not write it - something about writing “this is why all jellyfish should die” or write a similar phrase and leaving out “jellyfish” (there is no clue what the killer actually wrote) which will give them the evidence of whether or not it was me. However, I do not finish this test as the detectives are distracted and thus they go off on a tangent to some other concerns not related to the killing. I am also considering if the crime took place before I was born, but that reasoning does not seem to matter to them even if true.

      The younger detective talks about his mistakes and regrets of the past in similar work he had done before, although does not go into detail. I start to suspect that about twenty-five percent of people in jail never committed a crime. A few times I yell at them in frustration but am also laughing at a few points, even feeling a bit giddy as if I cannot believe how incompetent they are, including with their fill-in-the-blanks mentality and overwhelming proclivity to fabricate or be mistaken in environmental or personal cues. Sometimes they seem like buffoons, other times more focused on their work. Sometimes they seem to be testing my reaction on questions that make no sense. I do get very annoyed over time and wonder why I happen to be the only one in the situation. I suppose it is possible that other suspects are being questioned or tested in other rooms, but I sense that this is somehow not the case. If it is not proven to be me, perhaps the investigation will not even continue.

      At one point, I see a large cardboard box someone brings in which has a thinner purple blanket and somewhat formal-looking yellow (with white lacy trim) clothes - a shorter dress and blouse, I think. The blanket is sparsely woven of yarn (but commercially produced I assume), in a way that about twenty-five percent of it is open stitching so that you can mostly see through it, somewhat like a much lighter thinner afghan blanket. I am not familiar with the materials at all. They look like they might have been in the ground for a time. I stand there patiently but am not questioned on the materials as they may just be testing my reaction.

      Later, they seem to have at least seven or eight old comic books; the same ones owned from when I was about nine or ten years old. Supposedly, I had written my full name inside each book on the first panel of each comic (which I never did in real life), near the top and in neat cursive in blue ink. They are all Harvey comics and all of Spooky the Tuff Little Ghost - with a supposedly “fictional” one (though it was real) of Spooky playing pool and cheating. I guess people interested in collecting comic books and playing pool are also likely murder suspects.

      From here, my dream mostly falls into somewhat abstract thinking relating to my puzzlement over the similarity of the different comic book covers as I begin to see additional Hot Stuff covers in addition to the Spooky ones.

      What is curious is that, thanks to research, I learned something I had not known. I thought I had all issues of Spooky when I was younger - but I had been missing one (likely due to the similarity of a cover of a comic book I already had). Coincidentally, the only one I was missing had a similar gag as the “Devil Kids” one I did have - that is, the main character going through a pool table - Spooky going through in a ghostly way and Hot Stuff burning his way through. Even more intriguing and somewhat amusing - I was seemingly taught in a subtle way by my dream - about a facet of “normal” (or consensus-based) human consciousness. There is apparently another “version” of the “same” Hot Stuff cover in real life that is missing the point entirely (although he is using his trident as a pool cue, which is supposed to be the gag in this case though also seems a missed variation on the other one where he uses a normal pool cue which would likely burn up) and he is at the pool table without any significant sight gag other than the trident as the “pool stick” (with no burning in to cheat). In my opinion, the ideal cover would have been burning through the table while using his trident as the “pool stick”.

      I have seen this fairly often in my life; that is, people writing, drawing, or copying the aspects of something in this way and missing the main point (although I do understand that metaphors and word plays and even certain types of sight gags or particular intent of images do not translate into other languages or even for certain types of people; for example - there is a well-known old Australian poster that conveys something different than intended - see bottom image in this post).

      My dream was partly influenced by a track I was working on about a year ago where an African chant seems to reflect a set of English phrases: “Johnny not wait, ooh ooh, why wait, he wanna play pool” and including the line “patience is a virtue”. Sometimes I am amazed at how meaningful and intricate dreams are and literally revelatory (not symbolic) once you examine them more closely. I also noticed that the in-dream blanket was the same purple as the background color in the Spooky cover and the title in yellow as with the in-dream clothes.

      Updated 12-16-2016 at 05:07 AM by 1390

    5. Whale Man

      by , 11-04-1985 at 05:04 PM
      Morning of November 4, 1985. Monday.

      This is a somewhat distorted dream in terms of activity and themes. The main aspect of this one more vivid section is seemingly running from an area where there may have been a shooting of a president or mayor, though I am not sure if the person was killed. It first seems like I am in Wisconsin and then suddenly in Florida, running from the southwest to the northeast through my Cubitis backyard. It almost seems as if I had been involved somehow though I am not sure of my dream’s backstory.

      At one point, where we used to have bonfires (a little more towards the southern section of the weedy area prior to the railroad tracks), there is some sort of implied epiphany of a “whale man”. The “whale man” is actually better described as a typical merman, I suppose, except that the bottom half is like a killer whale or orca, and the top half is a man. The theme is seemingly relative to the phoenix (only very loosely). Perhaps the politician was shot and returned as this being, or he was always like this (and thus I cannot be guilty of any possible crime), I am not sure. It also seems as if I am looking at a political poster for a short time. The part that is manlike reminds me of a young version of Walter Mondale. He seems suspended above the water with the whale tale in a slight arc. I think he actually may be running for president and as a Republican. He seems friendly and cheerful. I am not certain of his political values or standing. (In real life, I hardly ever thought about politics.)

      There is probably a rhyming association with “whale” and “Mondale”. It is also possible that the whale represents a new political party relating to better ecological policies.

      This dream is type ECA (subtype acc: parallel accompaniment). Here, the emergent consciousness is already coalesced into the last segment as the hybridized “whale man” (or merman implied to be aggressive on the bottom since the tail is of a killer whale or orca, but cheerful on the top; an atypical ambiguity). However, the phoenix essence is also very clearly implied as the reintegration of full consciousness, especially as the merman rises from the area in my Cubitis backyard where we had bonfires. The ambiguity of the hybridization was caused by dream events involving, firstly, the death of a politician (bottom layer - aggression) by the transition (top layer) of the phoenix concept - or politician’s “resurrection” (conscious self emergence as a cheerful epiphany)

      Updated 02-26-2016 at 06:55 PM by 1390