Blue_Opossum

Morning of June 6, 2018. Wednesday.



In my dream, I am looking at the Internet. It seems to be late morning. I find myself looking at an archive site for television series, possibly archive dot org, though it is rendered differently. A list of episodes of an unknown television series appears mainly on the left half of the screen, but I do not look at much of the right half of the screen, which seems mostly featureless. (This is logical as dream state orientation autosymbolism is most often directed to the left while waking process autosymbolism is most often on the right. This is a natural result of liminal focus on sleeping as being directed to my left side toward the bed’s surface while waking autosymbolism is oriented to my dream self’s right as it is more open to the environment in reality.)

A dream journalist who exists in real life had made a comment on one of the episodes, saying that the episode was not there and he could not find it anywhere else, worded as “Is the true broadcast available somewhere?” The show is possibly “Frasier” (or implied to be), as I saw parts of this show prior to going to bed (though I have never seen an episode in its entirety). The episode above the one that is supposedly missing features a story about a secretary.

I click on a link under the title of the supposedly missing episode (of which I cannot presently recall the title). I discover it goes to another page of a similar appearance. The episode is there, with the ability to play it on the web page. I look around on the two pages and realize that the episode that was claimed to be missing is actually the only one that is available while the others have only a summary and no link to view the episode. I think of writing to the poster to tell him that “the link is right there in the link”, but that sounds ambiguous and I wake before I write anything.

---

This afternoon in real life, I randomly ended up on the archive website by originally looking at a Wikipedia article. I noticed one of four comments in which it was claimed that “Payment Deferred” from “Studio One” was not actually there as all the other episodes apparently were. Part of the review read “The file present is a mislabeled duplicate of the 25 November 1947 revival broadcast” ending with “Is the true Moorehead/Sloane broadcast available somewhere?”. It was written by someone called “Professional Tourist” way back on May 8, 2011. I had never looked up “Studio One” anywhere online prior to today and that was only due to a reference in Wikipedia about “The Twilight Zone”. Though it is true that many files are mislabeled or missing on websites, it is still a curious and unlikely sequence of events to always have something “repeat” on one level in waking life after the otherwise distorted dream event. Additionally, Googling the detail, two YouTube versions of the “Studio One” episode appeared first, posted in April 23, 2014 and April 24, 2018. (The real event was for a radio show, not television.)

All my life, on a day to day basis, I experience threads of prescience while many other people refuse to accept it. Because of that, it is no longer possible for me to view mainstream society as having any credibility or intelligence where it counts the most. Still, when more is known about the nature of time and perception, the underlying causes may be known, though I have often considered the possibility that people were not meant to know in this era. Presently, I have only publicly acknowledged about 600 precognitive dreams on the dream journal website, though there are many more of which I have never included the full details online.

On a more mundane level, this dream is likely the result of contemplating how this poster (and many others) have beliefs and experiences of which are the opposite of mine. Thus, I find the video which exists and the others do not, the opposite of the original claim.

---

Morning of April 22, 2017. Saturday.



I am in one of the King Street apartments; one I rented in real life; the northeast one (on the second floor). However, it is also integrated with our present bedroom. As usual, this unique composite does not register as such with me. My wife Zsuzsanna is present but in another part of the room at first. An unfamiliar young black female is in our bed on her back with the sheet fully over her. There is a presumed backstory that she is staying with us, which has something to do with her husband, who is a dream journalist on the Internet, who is somehow “missing” (or to become missing?). (He has posted on that site since January of 2015 on a very regular basis, sometimes on a day to day basis, and now is not - therefore I must mark this dream thread as precognitive as there was no hint his posts would stop, even for a short time. All of my longer dreams have precognitive threads but I do not always document or update their status as such online.) We are having a conversation about what he has written and how he might be helped, though I do not recall all the details of the conversation.

Eventually, Zsuzsanna becomes annoyed (and I guess wants to go to sleep or just for us to have privacy) and tells her to leave.

Soon, there are several (unfamiliar) people in the room, almost as if it was some sort of reunion. The door remains open. A Tahitian girl (of about seventeen) and her white-haired mother enter the room, her mother on the right (from my viewpoint). They are dressed the same, in short bright floral dresses, and they are the same height. The girl has some of Zsuzsanna’s essence. I somehow recognize her and I feel almost like a child again. I go to hug her. When I hug her I look up and realize that she is about seven feet tall. It is extremely vivid, as other dream endings of this same nature are.

---

A standing and hugging event such as this, when it does occur, always occurs in the last moments of a dream or consciousness shift into an offset dream (only when lucid in the latter case). It symbolizes coalescence with the emergent consciousness in real time. What I find very interesting is how vivid in terms of proportions it is here. On one level, it seems probable that it is based on the memory of the size-orientation of being a child and hugging an adult. On another level, it is probably a reversal of Zsuzsanna and I in perspective, though exaggerated.

---

Morning of April 17, 2017. Monday.



I find myself wandering through an unfamiliar school, the very large expansive building implied to be of one floor, it seems. (It may be modeled after my old middle school in Florida.) For some reason, I get this impression of a backstory where I had been seeking special classrooms that teach adults. It relates to physical education, I think, and possibly martial arts, but the details are not that clear. It may be that I am, under pretense, just looking for “hidden” areas in the building.

I talk with an unknown male who is walking in the hall. I tell him about having heard rumors from people (and this is by deliberate pretense, as it seems I am just making up the whole concept to justify my exploration) about a hidden or secret classroom near the back of the building that teaches adults. He denies that there are ever any classes held beyond the hall we are in (which really is not logical, though I do not question him - though it may just be that the rooms are being renovated presently).

I continue towards the back of the school building. I eventually reach an area where there seems to be a class being held to my right (which means that the other male was either lying or was unaware of it). The door is open and I can see that the classroom is full. It seems that it may be sixth or seventh grade. I think about talking to the teacher (who is unseen, as the door opens to the back of the class) but I do not want to disrupt the class. I notice an unfamiliar girl who has a light freckle-colored pattern over about half of her face and neck.

Soon, all of the students start singing “The Bear Went Over The Mountain”. They sing very harmoniously, and the song goes on for quite a while. (I get the vague impression that it is for my benefit, though this is not certain.)

I go back to the other male to tell him about the class and he seems puzzled. Soon, I realize I had absentmindedly had my leg in a bad position, pressing down on the surface of a table I am sitting on. He tells me that I have a medical condition, saying what it is (though I do not recall the term). I say “I don’t care”, as when I move my leg, the condition apparently resolves itself. There is a diamond-shaped hole in my right leg; inward, in about the middle of my lower leg. Soon, my skin rises up to the correct level to match the rest of my leg and I clearly see blood filling the area under the skin, which changes from the white diamond shape to normal appearance.

---

“The Bear Went Over The Mountain” seems to be redundant of the nature of the dream itself, and also seems a play on the “subconscious mind” myth. Even though I supposedly go beyond a recognized area of the school, I simply end up on the other side of the school, though I suspect there are additional meanings (such as similarity to the phrase “over the hill”, though only by society’s nonsensical beliefs).

Update Wednesday, 3 May 2017: The unfamiliar girl was a precognitive thread as I suspected. For their privacy reasons, I will not go into detail. On a side note, the “medical problem” might be a loose reference to my vagus nerve (though it is not life-threatening), but that is only assuming it was not a reference to a real-time physical position (in sleep) concerning my leg. On an additional note, the “subconscious mind” myth continues to baffle me, especially considering that nearly all dreams (other than the precognitive threads) are entirely erroneous in nature. The school setting is simply the result of being unconscious and the critical thinking skills of the conscious self being temporarily lost as a result and the dream self seeking to relearn the state of wakefulness. (As I have often explained before, I only use the term “subconscious” to designate the dream self as the “personified subconscious”, only to distinguish it from the unconscious, preconscious - especially when personified, the emergent consciousness, and whole conscious self identity.)

---

Morning of April 5, 2017. Wednesday.



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

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

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

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

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

---

Morning of October 19, 2016. Wednesday.

Dream #: 18,202-07. Reading time: 45 sec.



I am in the Cubitis house’s living room in the morning. The setting puzzles me, but I do not consider it is the wrong location. (I have not lived there since 1978.) I feel tired and decide to nap. I absentmindedly flop down atop a birdcage about three feet high. At the same time, our oldest son does something with one of its doors followed by a strange vocalized “Eeeeee”. I am unsure if there is a bird in the cage, but it serves as my unlikely mattress frame. It is in the southwest area of the living room in a space that would not be big enough to be lengthways against the west wall from the corner as my bedroom’s door was there in reality.

My dream had a precognitive layer (despite its typical processing dynamics where a cage represents my lack of physical movement while asleep and flight associations stem from a lack of viable discernment of my physical body while sleeping). A male lovebird we had for years somehow opened its cage door, and got out. Our oldest son tried to catch it, but it escaped.

---

Morning of June 22, 2016. Wednesday.



My wife Zsuzsanna and family and I as we are now are at a large unfamiliar park, though perhaps implied to be in Brisbane. It is somewhat like a composite of the South Bank and Nundah parks. After a time, a group of unknown people start to gather under a shelter. This seems to be related to the beginning of a concert.

It seems to be nighttime at first, perhaps around nine o'clock. We listen to the music for a time. Our children stand to our right. We are not actually under the shelter at this point but just on the outer perimeter of it.

Burl Ives, or someone much like him in this case, eventually shows up and there is the option to go with him on some sort of tour of the area. Zsuzsanna and I and a number of other people join the group. At this point, our children apparently remain behind, although our two oldest are with the younger ones.

We are eventually on a bus going up a hill. Somehow, the time is now late morning or afternoon since it is now daylight. After a time, the bus transforms into a jeep and Zsuzsanna and I are sitting in the front to the right of the driver (which is the wrong orientation if assuming an Australia vehicle). The jeep goes over a narrow road and into a fissure; between two high rock faces (which almost come up to the sides of the jeep), right to the edge of a cliff - and I almost think we are going over and that it is meant to be the purpose and climax of the supposed tour. I see the view far below, mostly of forests and ravines. Soon though, the jeep backs up and I hear an unknown voice behind me say, “Oh, we are backing up now” as if they are relieved our tour did not include going over the cliff. “This is a really stupid way to make a road,” I say assertively.

However, the jeep, after backing out from the fissure, is then driven in a perpendicular direction and comes to a stop just before going off another part of the cliff. Again, I contemplate if we are going over but instead the driver backs up a bit and turns and goes down the road and back into town. Having had enough of this “tour”, I leave the jeep as it is still going down the street and somehow end up on my own in an unusual fancy building, which is apparently closed at the time. I try to find a door out of the building to go home (as I am also concerned about where our children are) but I end up only going into what seem like business offices. One room has a male and female who do not regard me. I then turn and go down a hall and somehow (by force of will even though I am not at all lucid) create a door into a portico which leads into a parking lot. It is now nighttime again (and thus Ed Wood must be directing this dream as often seems the case with illogical sudden switches from night to day and back again during the same shorter time period).

As I walk through the parking lot, Zsuzsanna is walking to my right as if she had been there all along. I am still concerned about our children’s safety, particularly our youngest daughter. As I continue to walk I realize that Zsuzsanna is still speaking to me even though she is now a mostly yellow (emergent consciousness color) cylindrical music box of the windup type that holds and rotates a baby cot mobile. I accidentally drop her on a parking block as I am stepping over it. I feel bad and hope she still works. I hear her musical whirring and realize she may recover.

---

Firstly, a parking lot represents the liminal space between dreaming and waking and is always an element of the waking precursor for me. Many of my dreams end in a parking lot setting because of the symbolic association between being “elsewhere” (in the dream state) and from there will go “home” (real physical body) even though there is no car association here (and I am inclined to now believe that a parking block may be analogous to a pillow as a dream sign in at least some cases). This last part was also indirectly precognitive as our youngest daughter was slightly injured by falling on a music box (though was not hurt that much). The loose patterns included the music box, the association with a baby or young child, and being hurt in a fall. My dream however, though it foreshadowed the event correctly on one level, used completely different connections.

What I find very curious here is how the typical falling start (waking point) was “stopped” twice before I took action to go into a different level of consciousness (though I sometimes deliberately jump from cliffs to enter an enhanced flying mode), which then foreshadowed an event from today. I was unable to prevent it, but I still find it very interesting and typical of the unexplainable facets that occur in some dream types.

---

Optimized 2 minute 30 second read.

Monday morning, 25 January 2016.

Game Frog (fascinating and rewarding real-world outcome)

Dream # 17,934-01.





I am with Zsuzsanna in an unfamiliar convenience store implied to be southwest of where we live in real life, seemingly on Electra Street (though I have not been there in waking life). The checkout counter is in the back instead of near the entrance.

Absentmindedly, I buy an incomplete computer game. At the checkout, I see a small white cardboard frog in the open box. I do not consider the cardboard prop an unlikely computer game item. The game also features a "lily pad," though it looks like a white paper crown. (See the first image if available.)

The cashier (an unfamiliar girl with protoconsciousness essence) calls the computer game's designer at his house, claiming one side of the cardboard frog "needs adjustment."

The faux frog spontaneously "activates" and hops off the counter. It may be a version of Frogger that utilizes the environment as its playing field. I consider it is programmed to cross the street and dodge traffic but would require the player to control it when functioning correctly.

I notice a cat investigating an aisle. The cat spontaneously flies backward because of a function of the game triggered by the frog's location.

I lose interest in buying the game because I do not feel like trying to maneuver an artificial frog through traffic, especially since the game is malfunctioning.

After leaving the store, Zsuzsanna and I see a different cat (unfamiliar) that could be a stray. It has long, light gray hair. I pick it up to carry home to feed it. I soon have a vague impression it may belong to someone who lives near the store.

Zsuzsanna turns left to go through the open hall of a building, through the back, as a shortcut. I assume it has apartments on both sides of the otherwise publicly accessible corridor. I do not follow her. I go around the building, hoping she stays safe, but I am mentally prepared to defend her.

Three unfamiliar men harass her as she does laundry on a porch-like area. She has a nonchalant attitude, but one of them pushes her. I am suddenly holding my Olympic barbell (without weights), and I swing it several times. I strike them all in the stomach until none of them can stand.

---

After my dream, our youngest son Oliver found a toy frog and a paper crown on the sidewalk while walking between our home and the shopping mall. (See the second image if available.)

Despite my dream's narrative aligning with the usual processes resulting from REM sleep, its real-world outcome was rewarding.

Animals typically correspond with how I perceive and manage my imaginary physicality while sleeping. A frog correlates with intuitive myoclonic dynamics because its back legs kick. The computer game implication implies cognizance of this process while dreaming, as does the "crown." In contrast to leg myoclonus, abdominal myoclonus results in me striking the men's stomachs "until none of them can stand." (I am not standing while sleeping.)

Anyone with reasonable intelligence and who dreams with lucidness would recognize how predictable REM sleep dynamics predominantly influence dream content over waking-life factors. It is especially discernible here with the first's cat myoclonic response, carrying the second cat near my stomach, the association with laundry (being undressed while sleeping), and the transition to hitting the men in their stomachs.

Protoconsciousness as the store's cashier reporting the frog's problematic attributes to its unseen designer corresponds with the dynamics of my sleeping position regarding myoclonic precursors, as a store's checkout anticipates the ending of a dream or dream segment. These dynamics have influenced hundreds of previous dreams in similar ways.

---

Morning of September 13, 2015. Sunday.



This is a long meandering dream of watching a fictional spin-off to the television series “Lost”, which is not the first time this has happened, and resultant dreams always have baffling inconsistent plots.

---

My wife Zsuzsanna and family and I are apparently living in a new unique version of my Cubitis home. This time, the layout is similar to reality, but an additional design is implemented. The original layout is rotated one-hundred-eighty degrees and then superimposed on the original so that there is a hallway to the northwest as well as to the southeast. Of all my dreams set in Cubitis since 1968, this is the first time this particular distortion has been rendered as far as I know. The television is near the center of the room and we are facing mostly north while watching it, but holographic projections of the characters emerge at times and although they do not interact with us, they seem like a “real” presence now and then. (The albino ones vaguely remind me of the supposed alien energy beings on “Under the Dome”.)

This version of “Lost” has the original characters appear as children and focuses more on adventures they had while growing up, seemingly in a rural area. The main focus is on Hugo “Hurley” Reyes and the child version of him even has unusual sideburns. There also seem to be very unusual young albino versions of all the characters (who interact with the original characters) though who may be connected to some sort of experiment as they seem more like less-defined waves of energy at one point, or almost like suspended chalky vibrant water taking on human form. At one point, the characters are “real” and mostly to the right of my armchair in a small group facing my direction. They are talking to an adult who was not in the original show; a young black female detective.

There are two scenes in which an adult John Locke (Terry O'Quinn) is killed. It surprises me that they killed off a main character (so thus my actual memory of the series is truly lacking in my dream). One scene involves him lying on his back over a bed of nails submerged in the middle of a fast-flowing river. Another scene involves him falling through the floor of some sort of unusual room and also dying, due to enemies on the island finding him and pulling a special lever in the cave-like room.

There are a lot of random distractions in the various scenes and no cohesive plot of any kind for the most part. John Locke, I reason, must be being continuously cloned (or otherwise somehow “copied”) for him to die more than once.

Finally, the episode is drawing to a close (and it really did seem like an entire hour and perhaps even longer) and Zsuzsanna and I are ready to go to bed. Oddly, however, I “remember” or come to “realize” that Terry O'Quin is staying with us. I have this clear idea in my mind on asking him about what I had just seen (as I do not seem to recall all of it, at least precisely). I especially want to know about some other trends to be appearing on the show. I see him approaching our living room from the south hallway.

I speak clearly to him, “How many times did you die in this episode. Two? Or three?” He says in a friendly respectful manner that he had died twice in the episode that Zsuzsanna and I had just watched. I start to ask him about other details of the series. At this point he raises his left index finger vertically up to his lips as if to “shush” me, but also grins in a very friendly manner. He apparently does not want to reveal any upcoming surprises concerning the show. I also realize that he just wants to get some sleep. He then does an exaggerated tiptoe walk to the (fictional) north hallway and I see for the first time that he is wearing a woman’s silky teal-colored nightgown that comes to just above his knees. I see this as a little unusual, but I start to wake after this.

---

Yet again, my dream reflects precognitive and shared associations (remember that I do not always include this in online versions as it happens continuously and it would take up too much time for me to indicate each and every event from day to day), in the loose and impersonal manner they usually do. In this case, just as I was writing this, Zsuzsanna tells me of a show with kids and one old man in a dress who resembled Terry O'Quin and even did the exact same mannerism with the “shushing” gesture.

Morning of September 11, 2015. Friday.



The intersection setting has been more recurring of late, though I am not certain as to why. I suppose it could relate to a metaphorical “crossroads” in regard to trying to solve certain mysteries through extensive research and not really making as much progress as I would like (though I have achieved some amazing new breakthroughs). On the other hand, it could simply be an in-dream metaphor for the choice of remaining either at apex lucidity or choosing to become passive. Although this dream is lucid, it becomes quite distorted, as I mostly remain passive in order to observe, especially things like writing, though which I cannot fully read at any point as it is.

My dream seems to start near an unknown intersection, though vaguely reminds me of Stadcor Street (in Australia) as well as King Street (in America). The setting is ambiguous though and seems to be indoors and out on the street at the same time. In fact, I even willfully shift our location a bit so that the “floor” of the setting seems to move out of the range of any potential traffic (though I do not see any vehicles approaching at any point.) I notice that my wife Zsuzsanna, who is seated on her knees, and who seems only slightly puzzled at my manipulation of “sliding” our dream placement, has some sort of computerized display on the “floor”, probably an iPad, though a little bigger. The fairly large writing is in landscape format.

I try to read it and become completely clear and lucid for a short time, though this does not do much good as the writing makes no sense at any point. I notice the phrase “dog mxtre”, which I take to mean “mixture”, though it is mostly random letters and gibberish. There is something like “coup de gras” but mostly the screen is an incoherent mess of nonsensical words. The phrases do change a few times with one or two actual words here and there, but just when I think I am getting something interesting or potentially meaningful, I realize it is solely gibberish.

During this time I find a newspaper article on events in a park that also somehow relate to sexual acts that are not permitted. There seem to be at least a hundred by-laws that specifically limit the nature of sensuality. It seems very clinical and yet senseless, as if society is ruled by a “mechanical” mentality that does not even recognize the nature or pleasures of organic life. One of the phrases relates how the heel of the foot is not to be used for gratification in making contact with the partner’s bottom (regarding the cleft). I do not go on to read much of the rest of the long list.

From here, I seem to be in a room with my wife, though my mother (deceased October 2, 2002) is also present, along with a few other people in the background. The news is on, on television, and I go closer to watch it carefully, though only semi-lucid at this point. The news announcer is making references to how fantastic and amazing the sound of a snow leopard is. He goes on and on as the screen mostly shows the head of the snow leopard in profile, facing to the right. After several minutes, the snow leopard still has not made a sound, though I continue to watch. As the news announcer goes on and on in praise, there is not much movement of the animal. In fact, it looks a bit annoyed by the presence of the television cameras.

Finally though, it makes a roaring sound, still with its head facing to the right of the television screen. However, it does not seem quite real. The news announcer continues to jabber mindlessly. Eventually, the snow leopard seems to speak in a very raspy and breathy voice, “Hank…has not been…ly…ing” (“Hank has not been lying” - in reference to the implied but false “honesty” of the news announcer), which is very low-pitched yet still with a discernible melody. I am aware however, that the video has been edited quite amateurishly to make the mouth seem to move with the words.

My mother rolls her eyes and subtly shakes her head and looks frustrated and somewhat angry over the news announcer’s attempts to trick people with ridiculous manipulated video and audio.

Yet again, my dream renders unlikely things my wife had seen with no possible way of me knowing. In this case, it was two elements; my wife being endangered by a thoughtless driver while walking near an intersection and also, as odd as it sounds, my wife had recently seen something on her own on television about an owner of a gray and white cat (similar colors as a snow leopard) trying to make it look and sound as if it was talking while it was meowing. However, my wife said the commentator in that case made a note that it was obviously fake due to the owner manipulating its sound as the camera held the same orientation as the image in my dream according to my wife. I have never been thoughtless enough to think something like that could be coincidence, especially as it happens continuously and often on higher levels of precision in imagery and events. I continue to remain baffled, not by continuous precognition and remote viewing since earliest memory but how other people do not experience this (or at least claim not to for whatever reason - it just does not add up).

Morning of September 1, 2015. Tuesday.



My wife and children and I are living on Loomis Street, it seems (though my wife and children have never been to America). At least that is where my entire dream takes place; in the front part of the house. However, the house is mirrored from north to south - the first distortion of the Loomis Street house in this particular way that I remember. It does not trigger any degree of lucidity that the house is mirrored from my right to my left as such. My family seems to at least partly be living in the first small bedroom.

My sister Marilyn makes an appearance as she was perhaps in the early 1970s (before I even moved back to Wisconsin). She seems healthy and happy. She goes to open her bedroom door and the door mostly falls off the hinges but is still partly attached at the top. She is annoyed and mentions something about how she wanted to listen to Neil Diamond with her door closed (apparently so as not to bother others, including her sickly husband). (This is odd, as she had never listened to Neil Diamond in real life regardless of her huge record, reel to reel, and cassette tape collection.)

I go over and make the offer to fix it, but her husband Bob suddenly shows up as if having just arrived (possibly dropped off by his relatives or perhaps my sister Carol - this is not certain). He insists that he can do it. He looks very ill and begins at the top of the door frame. The hinges are not as they would be in reality. Each of the two hinges in the door frame (the ones that came loose) is held by two silver sets of nuts and bolts, the bolts facing outward from the door frame. He begins to work on the top nut by tightening it with his hands. The other nut below that is there but very loose. The other two nuts (for the bottom hinge) are somehow somewhere in that bedroom on the other side of the door (which is not logical, as the nuts would have rolled into the living room relating to how the door mostly came off, not the other direction). Just as he is tightening the top nut, he drops his left arm (the hinges are on the left side of the door from the living room perspective). He then seems to go into some sort of pseudo-ritualistic trance. I notice that there are dark reddish circles around his eyes and he is wearing no shirt. (He is just in his underwear.) He had arrived in only his underwear and had apparently been in the hospital for a week or more.

He just stands there looking very ill. He starts chanting “Have a headache…don’t care…have a headache…don’t care…” (which seems to mean he does not care about anything in life, even continuing to fix the hinges). I get the strong impression that he is very close to death. I decide that I will manually tighten the other nuts myself, but just as I contemplate tightening the bottom nut of the top hinge, my dream fades.

Zsuzsanna woke with a slight headache and a bit of nausea so it is possible our empathetic link projected into a different dream character (as this has happened before) - even though her character in my dream seemed healthy and happy. In fact, this metaphor (a door not being on all the hinges) does seem to have something to do with empathetic links that need to be strengthened for the health or vitality of both (including at different levels of thought). A door itself is a point between two rooms and often takes a dreamer into different levels of consciousness or awareness.

Precognition unveils. Right after my wife had the television on (and just as I was ready to post this), the first thing she hears is “Neil Diamond…(pause)…No, it wasn’t Neil Diamond”. My wife just smiled at me and said “You’re funny”. Of course, this is a natural event via the Source, like digesting food, not an active “ability” for the most part (at least in this particular case).

Morning of July 24, 2015. Friday.



In my dream, I am in an unfamiliar area with no clear associations in conscious afterthought of exactly where it could be, which is fairly rare for me. I do seem to have some hold on directional orientation, though whether it is implied to be America or Australia would change the present orientation. I will assume it to be America, though I do not focus closely on any cars (that is, what side the driver’s side is on) that would tell me of the country.

As such (American orientation, otherwise all the compass directions can be assumed to be reversed), I would be going due north along a causeway, on a sidewalk on the east side of the road. There are not that many buildings though it does seem like an area near city center. It might, in fact, be Chicago (south of main urban areas), though at a later point, vaguely reminds me of Third Street in La Crosse (though the car park would be rotated ninety degrees if such is the case).

I am walking along not that briskly but carrying my youngest daughter (age two) Isabelle, which seems somewhat strange, as I do not see other members of my family anywhere. The back story, though I am not certain, seems to relate to trying to get away from some sort of military conflict (unsure with who) or very vaguely (in the back of my mind) some sort of less serious (local) natural disaster - though the weather seems nice and I do not hear any gunfire or explosions. However, it may also be just a military exercise (even if to make veterans feel more “comfortable” about their past), as it feels more like such just before my dream ends. I am not that clear-headed in-dream, so am not sure about (or focused on) the status of other family members. It seems to be perhaps around two in the afternoon or later.

About six soldiers (including possibly veterans) of about three generations jog on the opposite side of the street and they are going in the opposite direction. I wave at one of them assertively (with my right hand held up) and he starts to wave back. He seems about twenty years old or younger. However, as I wave, my hand “automatically” (absentmindedly) forms the V-shaped “peace” sign. The soldier’s wave becomes less assertive and falls back incomplete as if he thinks I might be an unusual character and not patriotic at all. I feel slightly unsure about what I have done (though only vaguely foolish) in signing “peace” to what is likely a military exercise. I do not notice any other civilians anywhere or any cars in motion. I feel vaguely embarrassed about possibly having just annoyed him (or even distracted him) instead of just a harmonious “hello”, though it is not exactly embarrassment but something else.

Finally, I turn to go west into a car park for some reason (of at least two storeys). However, I soon realize that there is probably no feasible way to come out the other side (though I am unfamiliar with the layout). Not only that, I do not like the presence of dust and sand (and do not want to go through it with my child), which seems to be carried in the air at times by a mild breeze and creates a very vivid essence of “real” particulates in the air (though I am not lucid). This sparse cloud of particulates is higher and more on the level of the second storey of the car park beyond the ramp I am ascending. I turn around to go back out. Still carrying my daughter, I notice another small group of the military jogging up the ramp towards me to my left (though I do not detect any danger behind me, though I had not seen much of that section of the car park that they are apparently jogging to). I am annoyed that it may be more difficult to go that direction now, feeling somewhat “blocked”, even though there seems plenty of room to get past them (this reminds me of another dream concerning an approaching truck that was only partially rendered at first, which had clear precognitive connections with another dreamer). From here, my dream fades.

Update on same afternoon: This dream seemed to be the usual remote-viewing or precognition at very high precision, as I had this dream before reading an e-mail that unknowingly implemented this dream almost like a scenario representing the e-mail itself - concerning military preparedness, veterans, exercises, and their dreams. (I had no idea or prior “clue” that I would be getting this particular e-mail content.) More curiously, yet coincidentally, the first thing I see on tumblr when I post this dream is an image of a cat with “peace was never an option” above its head; typical synchronicity I have had all my life. This came after I already had a vague association that the solider that began to wave in this dream and stopped upon seeing my peace sign was somehow some sort of “continuity” of Tiger the cat in one of my last dreams. Of course, this level of detail cannot possibly be coincidence (especially continuously over almost fifty years), but then, what is it exactly? (That was just a rhetorical question.)

Morning of June 12, 2015. Friday.



I had been posting on a particular dream journal site in real life (and many will know instantly what I am referring to) that has come to have what I “affectionately” refer to as the “raining tilde” glitch (see image). Being that my main dream journal has been on tumblr, I did not focus on how to “fix” this facet of my life experience on another site as it was not really that bothersome. However, once an entity steps in (or whatever “version” of my wife exists on “higher planes”), I can do or “solve” anything I choose, depending on whether I accept the nature of Yin and accept that I am Yang. Real or not, the evidence always speaks for itself whether or not the rest of humanity is remotely aware of it (and typically…no).

While being frustrated at the neatness of an entry in a typical fashion, it suddenly dawns on me that the “magic” (or whatever it is that “made” me in my Yang persona) is always available to me as it has always been. (I did after all marry my dream girl, with countless validations and proof it was what I thought it was since just prior to my birth. It means nothing that humanity is not capable of believing or even seeing at that level.)

A version of Yin sends the Blue Pearl event and I realize I should get to work enhancing my journal on a particular site - because any real effort requires focus. Stupidly (regarding only on the human level rather than omniscient - as omniscience is usually too overwhelming for me, almost like a tidal wave quickly going out and flowing too quickly back), I “solve” the “raining tilde” glitch (again, with the partial guidance of a younger version of Yin) but only partially. I end up editing (making my edited post mostly blank) and filling out all possible tags as quickly as possible with the word “test” (followed by a number) on a large number of recent entries, so it forces out the “raining tilde”, and then I repost the complete entry. I feel quite stupid for not taking care of this long ago and realize it will probably take a few weeks in a few longer sessions to do this (although relating to my extreme typing speed, it is not really bothersome). That is only because I suddenly realized the potential for a more uniform neatness in the particular online journal and would even donate (monetarily) to the site if such a need arises.

Yin tells me that the “raining tilde” glitch was placed in this universe to “test” me, in a metaphorical “rain on my parade” tease (or imposing on my writing - even thinking - in a playful way - which may be a partial association with another dream of this day about pushing the trucks out of our yard) - a metaphor I was familiar with in my youth, and which is somewhat amusing.

I look back and realize that my “Rocket Science” dream featured what was reminiscent of a tilde (although I do not think that is what the fluttering and descending staircase-shaped paper represented). Then there was the dream of the giant derby that rained over the ocean. These ideas are dominant for a time, but only loosely associated with the tilde problem.

After thinking I can at least eventually fix up my journal, Yin slaps me upside the head (which seems to mean that she is wondering why I am editing the entire entry each time) and winks twice. I do not get this, but I do eventually understand there is a game-like nature to eliminating the irritating and completely irrelevant word cloud (word “cloud” apparently being another play on raining in the sense of being annoying - although real rain, I enjoy). Also, I then see how to prevent the pointless and random dream dictionary tags from appearing on my page (because so-called dream dictionaries are a serious offense against any thinking dream worker or any conscious person in general).

Finally, I realize that Yin is referring to two semicolons with her two winks (as used in an Internet emoticon). I then tag with two semicolons and see that I now have the option of closing the repeat occurrence of it - since it actually makes the “raining tilde” glitch - which makes me feel very eerie (even “otherworldly”) in the confirmation (I originally thought it was impossible, as it was not even a real typeable character and acted more as a graphic glitch since it could not be copied as text), which eliminates the original glitch as well (as does all repeating of irrelevant word cloud instances and often completely unrelated “dream dictionary” links). In other words, I now know how the “raining tilde” glitch is mimicked for quick erasure (as well as saving a significant amount of onsite bandwidth over time - due to the impossibly long repeated link sequence that is rendered even if not clicked on). This means that the entity solved three problems at the same time on several levels. How amusing and quaint. Better late than never.

Morning of May 25, 2015. Monday.



I am not sure of the location or even the immediate setting, though I am living with my wife yet seem to be about twenty years younger. There is a slight essence of Stadcor Street in Brisbane, but it also seems like an apartment building with a hallway (though not reminiscent of the King Street boarding house this time) and it may be on the first floor.

I eventually notice an intruder sitting on my left (about six feet away), though do not strongly associate him as such at first (as he may instead be a friendly visitor I had somehow forgotten about). My first intent is to wake up my wife by calling out her name. I am seated and she is sleeping on a bed (or possibly a couch in which the back drops down to make a single bed) to my right. Once again, I call out someone’s name and they do not respond (recently recurring in-dream situation). Zsuzsanna continues to sleep peacefully after I say her name loudly about four or five times. Thus, I decide that instead of getting her up and us leaving the room until I work out the intruder’s intent, I will get up and make him leave by physical force.

Eventually I realize that I am holding a sword, so I put it up against his neck to make him leave the room. I continue to hold it up as he moves back and into the hall, close to the door to the apartment or room where he apparently lives. I still tap his neck a few times, drawing a bit of blood as he backs up against his door. I decide to let him go into his apartment and so I turn to go back to where my wife and I are seemingly living. However, I notice more and more blood flowing out from my right arm and going everywhere, including making a puddle on the floor (and my wife is still sleeping). This is quite possibly one of the most vivid bleeding dreams I have ever had as I am fully aware of my body and presence - and the perspective is “perfect” as well (with no typical distortions of any kind). I enter a very well-defined state of clarity and awareness as I continue to stand while looking down at all the blood. On the one hand, I know I am bleeding in a possibly fatal manner, trying to work out how it even happened as the other male did not have a sword. The cut is over my upper right arm (about the entire length of my upper arm) and blood is flowing everywhere. I slowly wake, though with the tentative confidence that I will somehow survive.

The meaning behind this dream, I would normally just attribute to being a metaphor for the waking process (and the “death” of the transient dream self upon entering the waking process). However, it also implements a remote viewing connection, which is relative to the same event that my wife remote viewed in a different way. In her case, she remote viewed a dream scene where a child was talking on a toy telephone. Today, in the mail (without the slightest idea it would occur), we received several childhood photos of me from one of my older sisters for the first time ever (I am still of the belief that remote viewing requires at least two active minds - in this case the other mind being that of my sister’s - who sent the photos). In one of them, I am holding a toy telephone, validating my wife’s very consistent remote viewing perception over the years (after all, she accurately remote viewed my childhood long before we met). Another photo is from around the time I had my near-fatal accident and NDE in 1962 where I lost a lot of blood as a toddler and miraculously did not go into shock and soon self-trained my left hand to work again over time (and “rewired” my brain by force of will at a very young age - thus my enhanced dream memory and understanding among other things) even though it was “certain” (by the doctors’ claim) that my wrist and hand would be paralyzed for life. As such, some memories from age one and a half resurfaced, but only those related to the park visits. Basically, this dream was a form of remote viewing a very old memory linked to a precognitive association of an approaching visual event and layering it in a character composite with my adult self (even though the location of the bleed-out differed in this dream, as dreams often change orientations in one way or another).

I also feel that there may be some meaning here regarding the calling of the name in terms of reversal while in the dream state. This situation accurately implies that my wife is awake in reality (verified) so thus is “asleep” in my own dream (and this is not the first time I have been aware in a non-lucid dream in this precise way though it depends on the type and level of the dream). This is probably similar to how the “shadow person” in a dream (especially a vivid lucid dream) is actually the waking conscious mind rather than what inexperienced people claim in it being something “darker” or potentially threatening to the real conscious self. When in a dream, it is the transient dream self that faces annihilation (in the process of waking), not the conscious self, so it is rather absurd to make the claim that a shadow in a dream is somehow “lower” than the dream self or unconscious state.

---

As already noted, I made a note of how I felt it was me “reliving” my childhood trauma of nearly having my left hand cut off (even though in my dream it was my upper right arm). One of the photographs my sister sent recently (and there was no way of knowing she would send photographs) shows me during the time period I was recovering from this event which occurred July 4, 1962 and while my hand and wrist is still wrapped. In fact, I had been imagining seeing this exact same photograph recently and very unlikely - received it the day after in real life. (even though I have only heard from her a few times in the last twenty years and rarely while growing up).

Morning of May 20, 2015. Wednesday.



I am wandering about in different dream settings in less-defined unfamiliar areas though most of the scenes involve Mottled Houdans. (I have not worked near this kind of chicken in real life since on our exotic chicken farm in Florida when I was about sixteen.) In my dream, they have special attributes; even human-like in some cases. At one point, I touch some smaller Houdans at a (unknown and unfamiliar) chicken farm as they are strutting about in a larger area of the building (which has a dirt floor) and they seem almost like friendly cats in their behavior. For some reason, it dawns on me that they are “more like people” than any other animal (which of course is absurd).

At one point, I seem to be involved in the sales department for Murray McMurray Hatchery in another unfamiliar region, and there is a sort of confrontation with an actor whose name I cannot remember presently, along with about three other unknown males. (He reminds me vaguely of Mason Adams as from “Lou Grant”.) He asks me about another worker at the hatchery, claiming that he never got change back from any of his purchases and asks me if I knew the worker had been cheating him like this over a longer time period. I absentmindedly nod in agreement which causes the other male to think I knew he was cheating him though which is not the case. “I feel really stupid,” I say, and then explain to him that I did not know that that worker was keeping the change each time and only nodded out of absentminded agreement with whatever he was saying at first.

In another scene, I am near a group of Houdan hens. Even though they cannot see because of the feathers over their eyes, they seem to have some sort of sensitivity to be aware of other people and animals supposedly because of higher levels of sentience. I am somewhat surprised at their “skill” to be aware as such, seemingly even more than other animals that can see well.

Later, I am in Cubitis at my father’s chicken shed and checking on all the Houdans (even though we had many other breeds including very unusual experimental hybrids). At one point, in a more public area, I encounter a Houdan rooster that is as tall as I am. I “shake hands” with him (by clasping his wingtip) and the Houdan almost seems human (though does not speak, though there is a vague level of mental communication and mutual understanding). In fact, he seems to have the goal of becoming an astronaut and is eventually wearing a NASA space helmet. His “wife” dances with him for a time and they are somewhat intimate; their “public boldness” of which embarrasses me slightly. However, the rooster soon seems puzzled over why he cannot “kiss” his hen with the space helmet on and kind of just clunks against her beak a couple times at first. There are several unknown people in the area and I start to mingle with the crowd to give the Houdans some privacy. (I do get the feeling that I had been watching our two normal-sized Houdan pets from the late 1970s; Fonzie and Pinky.)

---

This dream had scenes of chickens “kissing”, something I do not recall dreaming of before. In fact, the rooster in this particular dream (Fonzie) seemed to represent an aspect of myself, as it was as tall as me and was bordering on an event of lucidity.

One of the photographs that a sister (on my father’s side) had sent shortly after this dream (with no way of me knowing she would send photographs - as we have not had that much communication throughout much of my life) has me holding a chicken (not a Houdan, though black and white) with its beak against my nose.

Morning of April 30, 2015. Thursday.



This was an extraordinarily beautiful dream in every way even though it was about numerous tornadoes. The mood and essence of the imagery was near-ecstatic and the vividness was of the type where it seemed like a real environment in almost every way. It even colored my mood to where I feel a residual joyous nature and optimism.

In the first part of my dream, my family and I are living back on Barolin Street. We have different neighbors (the houses also being closer together than in reality) and across and parallel to the street is only a set of elevated railroad tracks about as high as a one-storey house and about fifteen feet from the street (the rest of the area being just grass). At first, there is a point where I marvel at the wind and its sound. It is a very strange and eerie sound but I am not concerned and in fact feel quite joyous when walking into the living room where my family is. I notice the neighbor’s curtains are blowing nearly horizontally out at least one open window. (I am mostly only aware of the neighbors to the north.)

Looking outside from the front porch later to check on the weather, I look to the south and see a few very light gray tornadoes forming. They are rather small and thin and soon seem detached from the clouds above them and seem both transparent and shiny. They follow a path on the other side of our street, moving in our direction. I start telling my family about the tornadoes but they do not seem as if they will cause much damage or go directly near our house (even though one clips the porch later in my dream). Even the wind they produce is not really that strong even though the sound is clear and loud. An unknown person (not a neighbor) sees me on the porch and as we talk, he says they are crayolas and not tornadoes and therefore supposedly not nearly as dangerous. However, large tornadoes do seem to be forming and going by us on the opposite side of the street. The imagery is mysterious and beautiful and it seems to be nighttime at this point.

A neighbor comes over and begins talking with me about the unusual weather (he seems concerned about what to do) and I mention that there are more tornadoes coming. He seems a bit confused and slightly annoyed and says that he is from New York and had not lived in Australia very long. It seems odd to me that he does not know at all what tornadoes are or what they look like. Although he is friendly, he seems a bit frustrated with our communications over time, not seeming to know anything at all about the region or the culture.

At one point, I notice what looks somewhat like a white squarish airplane on the ground across the street (more to the north) and point it out to him. I notice and describe the yellow and black diagonal lines on each side of the back area. About six or seven men are around it, seemingly picking supplies up from the ground and checking the vehicle. I soon realize that it may not be an airplane but some sort of rescue truck that went off the road. The imagery seems rather ambiguous. More tornadoes pass. One of them goes right across the front of the porch but does no damage.

For several minutes, the weather seems to calm a bit, but then I see another tornado moving alongside the elevated railroad tracks (but still touching ground) and making a loud clacking by pulling at the railroad ties and overall structure, much like the sound of a train moving over the tracks. This seems amusing to me and I even mention this to the neighbor. (I have heard in real life that a tornado sounds like an approaching train.) When I look out again later, I notice that a train has been derailed and is very close to our porch, the yellow caboose (hanging at about a twenty-degree angle) seeming suspended on a portion of ruined railing and debris to the left of the porch door. This part of my dream changes though, as it is not there later on. (I get the impression that I will mentally throw it to the other side of the street though I am not yet lucid.) An ambulance goes north at one point, very clearly and loudly.

At one point, I notice a female and about four or five of her younger children, who are apparently trying to escape by going north of the main tornadoes. At one point, they are lying over the street (heads mostly to the north) on their stomachs but not badly injured. I converse with the mother about what is going on and if they will be needing any help. It seems they will be okay. More tornadoes are coming, all of them beautiful and with almost “musical” howling.

I watch for what seems like a very long time. Even though I thought it had been nighttime at most points, the sky is eventually blue with white clouds to both the north and the south and it then seems to be “suddenly” late morning. However, weird dark clouds, almost like hands and fingers (each finger being a thin tornado, growing longer and sometimes at an odd angle), quickly form out of nowhere and the sky goes very dark again. This seems very strange and beautiful to me, but I start talking about how this cannot be normal weather.

At this point, the neighbors to the north (the unknown male I had talked to earlier, now with his wife and at least three children) come out and we all eventually go into my backyard for some reason, probably over concerns of our houses being destroyed. The male asks me why my wife and I had impersonated him when they had first moved in, seeming a bit amused but also frustrated (and slightly condescending in a religious or moral sense) about our behavior towards him. I have some sort of false memory to my dream’s back story (which had not actually occurred to my knowledge) that we had mimicked things he said in the manner he said them. The idea of saying “imitation is the sincerest form of flattery” to soothe his possible dislike of my family comes to mind, but I do not say it aloud.

In the last scene, I finally start to become lucid. I start to say aloud in my dream that it is a dream because the sky, as well as the weather in general, could not be like this in reality. I look to the south and see the dark clouds forming a penguin shape as if someone was making a crayon drawing in the sky. Other unusual cloud patterns occur, mostly to the southeast. “This is a dream,” I say to the other male’s wife. For a short time, her body becomes invisible as she is walking while her head floats along in midair. My family remains of normal appearance as we are walking around while I point out the impossibilities of the patterns in the sky.

Even though I am lucid at this point and my dream remains as vivid as it had been since the start, it is not a full lucidity, but skewed with faulty reasoning. I know for certain that I am in a dream yet also have this clear idea that everyone else (equally “real” as I am in my dream) is in the “same” dream. Right at the mental threshold of the contemplation of turning this into an erotic adventure, I wake instantly, probably because my dream had already been extremely long at this point. Still, upon waking, I feel joyous, healthy, and energized.

---

Again, this dream has the sky becoming as if someone is coloring in a penguin. One of the photographs my sister sent recently (with no way of me knowing ahead of time that she would send me anything) is an old photograph which has me coloring in a penguin in a coloring book as a boy (which had been taken by my mother and sent to her at that time).