Blue_Opossum

Morning of November 9, 1980. Sunday.



This was a very long movie-like dream where I still played the main role. As such, I did not seem to be threatened at any point even though the basis is the end of modern civilization (which actually seems like a very positive thing in my dream in my own experiences), yet also a dawn of a seemingly better way of life. Several years after my dream, I enjoyed a song that came out with the same title as my original dream records, also called “Seeds of Life” - by Jan Hammer and by Chris Thompson, one of my favorite vocalists after Tony Carey.

I somehow gain access to a way to have special seeds that grow quickly - almost like a “Jack in the Beanstalk” type connection (which seem to come to me by way of some sort of “divine intervention” so to speak), but more related to a type of world change. Sometime after this I grew fond of a song with the lyrics “here, here are the seeds”, which had a strong influence on my ideas at one point. I believe it was from an album called “Wind Woman”, but I can find no information on the Internet about it. In fact, there are a few albums that I really enjoyed and listened to a lot that I can find little or no information about, which is typical, really.

Anyhow, wherever I throw a handful of seeds, large vines grow up and around buildings, and the city grows more and more jungle-like. After a time, many people start to focus on the negative implications rather than the concept of having so much food and additional shelter.

I am in my old high school environment (in a small trailer, which was called a “portable” classroom) and eventually, dinosaurs somehow come about and walk through the new jungles. There are times when I clearly see the vines growing fairly quickly and am even “saved” by such an event when rapidly growing trees push aside people that are after me.

At one point, I am arrested for all the trouble the seeds have caused (as I am the one who had put them everywhere). However, as I am in the police car, I “hear” a voice say “finish your job”, which is actually more like “feeling the shape of the words” rather than hearing the audio, similar to telepathy. I throw the seeds I have left, which are almost egg-like in shape and size. From there, the car is stopped by crashing into a tree that grows through the middle of the road. I escape from there. Eventually I am able to live high in the jungle branches and enjoy the view.

Night of November 7, 1968. Thursday.



Another dream I had in early childhood is one about the “prehistoric elephant”. It is possible that I originally got the idea from something I had read in a newspaper (of a larger city) or heard somewhere (although, upon newer research, it is probably more likely another case of postcognition or some sort of remote viewing - as I did not really have access to such things at that time), but it still was somewhat precognitive in that I got a book later on relating to part of the theme: “Lassie: Adventures in Alaska” by George S. Elrick (Link here).

My dream featured a shaking side-to-side scene (implied “earthquake”, but extremely common in my childhood perception, from day to day, as well as with the side-to-side “earthquakes” of hypnagogic vision, which I always found interesting, almost comforting). A large, tall, broken-off iceberg floats to a New York harbor near Manhattan (I see the Statue of Liberty in one scene), somehow from Alaska (which would be impossible in real life of course, as they are on opposite sides of the continent - but since when are dreams always geographically realistic?). The iceberg slowly melts…and a living mammoth emerges and goes around New York, knocking into buildings and alarming people (this was also before I was scared, the second time at least, by a trained elephant at a store’s parking lot in real life). I go higher in one skyscraper and look down. Far below, I see the mammoth charging at the building I am in and there are mild vibrations. Nothing that frightening unfolds; it is almost like a sort of movie or already-completed documentary I am seemingly viewing at times in a sort of “second-hand” way.

Curiously, of all the Big Little Books that were published, a different copy of this is now in our present home (an interesting coincidence) - the only Big Little Book we had found anywhere at that time. When I was little, this title was one of a very large number given to me for Christmas by an older sister who worked at a store and got them cheaper (in fact, almost every Big Little Book that was published at that time - it came in a very large package).

By pure chance, years later, my older sister’s third husband’s name happened to be Corey (the same as in this book).

Morning of October 11, 1968. Friday.



Summary of meaning: In subliminal anticipation of the need to get up for school, my mind renders my mother (as parallel symbolism with my own inevitable emergent consciousness precursor) as a prehistoric amphibious creature and, with the aid of four older males, to be held on an island by building a shed (liminal space) around her. When she wakes, the shed explodes outwardly, as I am leaving the island (dream exit symbolism).

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A team of four unknown men, dressed as if on a safari (recurring dream character mode), probably in their thirties, seemingly with my help (even though I am only seven years old), trap an Eryops that had fallen asleep on a deserted isolated island (possibly near Florida or within the state of Florida in a very large lake as I do notice some palmettos) by somehow building a wooden shed around it while it is sleeping, yet the hammering apparently does not disturb its sleep at any point which is of course illogical. There is a very vague consideration that it may dig its way out as it is somewhat toad-like and toads do dig. However, when it eventually wakes up as we are preparing to leave the island, it is easily able to smash through with only a couple movements of its body and tail. I see boards flying out from the outer walls of the small building and feel a sense of awe and imminent danger. I watch the men leaving quickly in a rowboat (though I am not yet in it, though I seemingly soon teleport to it) as the creature is escaping but is not a direct threat as it remains where it is. It is facing the shore but facing to the right in my viewpoint. There is a sense of awe and unpleasant surprise but I have never classified this as a nightmare as I seem to only be observing this last scene without being directly present, becoming incorporeal at the waking point. (It was fairly common in my childhood dreams to become incorporeal in the final moments in eluding a possible threat, and as such, actual nightmares have been extremely rare throughout my life.)

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• This event of the prehistoric creature waking up as I am waking up (and it was my last dream of the morning prior to getting up) primarily renders the event as a very obvious waking metaphor, about as obvious as a basic dream meaning can be. Subliminally trying to prevent myself from waking (by preventing the creature from waking and escaping) did not work in this case, as biology is stronger than subliminal conscious will.
• Last update on Sunday, 30 October 2016. I had not considered that the shed in this dream might be associated with a doghouse. I learned that I had read a Marmaduke panel on October 6, 1968 which featured the dog “digging a storm cellar” under his doghouse. Additionally, building a shed around the sleeping creature seems a possible analogy to building a doghouse in hopes to tame a beast. A year previously, when I lived at 611 North Monroe Street, I had been yelled at by an unknown man who told me to stay away from his puppy (who was always resting in his doghouse when I visited him near my own open yard). This upset me (especially as I had never seen him before even though he lived in the apartments on the other side of our yard).

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Morning of August 28, 1971. Saturday.



I discover a seemingly prehistoric coral-like “garden” underground that I had dug out from our front yard and put in shallower cardboard boxes and tried to maintain in a few different areas of my room, mostly on my tables and dressers (perhaps one or more on my floor). These “plants” (including supposedly prehistoric sea fans) are all of various colors (each one only of one color), including Pepto Bismol pink (fairly common in childhood dreams), bright glowing yellows, and that brighter glow-in-the-dark green used most often for certain toy surprises in cereal. My prehistoric garden seems very special; beautiful and nostalgic for reasons I am not sure of. Each type of plant has its own specific color. There is also a purple one that sort of looks somewhat lightning-shaped, with a bumpy surface as well as orange sponge-like “rocks” but of which may grow larger over time. Some “plants” are more rock-like, sponge-like, or fern-like than others and some glow more than others (the purple ones glowing the least, the green ones the brightest, I think - almost in the proportionate manner of glow-in-the-dark colors in real life). I am very glad to have these special plants in my room. They comfort me and radiate a sense of peace.

This is an interesting situation and one of my most comforting and deeply felt dreams of this time period. Coming from underground implies exploring more deeply into the unconscious realm or taking something (a gift) from the unconscious realm or perspective or mood of the unconscious self (the memories as such defining a more harmonious and joyful coalescence into whole consciousness), the “prehistoric garden” perhaps analogous to human DNA, yet the way the plants glow (and how they are stored - in plain cardboard boxes for the most part) implies the essence of the conscious self (and the light of day analogy). The light remains at a certain level however, which may be why my dream seems to last so long (seemingly all night), almost analogous to a reassuring nightlight.