Blue_Opossum

Morning of April 15, 2016. Friday.



I find myself in an unknown area, seemingly indoors, with no memory of much of anything. I think that there may be some sort of movie being made but this is not certain. The setting may be either a movie studio or a warehouse for movie props.

There is a large (apparently uprooted) tree on its side. The area with the roots is very large and complex. There is another (unknown) younger male character present.

I look more closely at the area of the large roots and notice a number of “eggs” between sections of the roots. However, these “eggs” soon seem to somehow be very small egg-shaped mechanical men that are also somewhat like egg-shaped garden gnomes. I cannot really determine the nature of the setting at this point though I decide that the tree is some sort of very odd movie prop.

One of the “roots” is actually some sort of lever. I pull it and a human-sized mechanical man emerges from the underside of the tree, from within the roots (as if the bottom of the tree is mostly hollow). The mechanical man is dressed in ordinary clothes and emerges stomach down with its arms forward, but moving with a sort of slower butterfly stroke swimming pattern, but also implying it is “reaching out” towards the other person. This “reaching out” is only incidental however, as this mechanical prop would always do this same routine whenever someone pulls the lever. I find it somewhat amusing and vaguely familiar, though I am not really focused on what sort of movie this big prop might be for. In a way, it reminds me of me when I was perhaps around twenty years of age.

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This is a very strange (and for me, entirely unique) waking transition. The butterfly stroke as being relative to swimming is an excellent hybrid flight symbol and simultaneous water emergence metaphor, similar to a manta ray, stingray, flying fish, or flying sub association.

Instead of climbing a tree as related to moving through another level of conscious awareness within my dream, my dream-self projected “mechanical me” (which otherwise symbolizes the “unreal” aspect of the dream state itself and the lack of a “real” physical form for the dreamer in the dream state), comes from inside the tree, and from the underside, as metaphorical for waking up. (Of course, “movie” is a replacement word for the dream state, though as stated before, fictional dream characters curiously also use “movie” to describe a real-life event.)

This is probably one of the only times I have seen a tree in a dream symbolize birth or awakening and as representing motherhood (validated by all the little egg men which are analogous to human ovaries, the tree roots being analogous to fallopian tubes in this case). Very curious. I am otherwise very familiar with this symbolism since I have documented hundreds of dreams which utilized this same basic template (including “The Tadpole’s Ghost” and “Red Wagon Teleportation” and many others). However, I am not aware of any dominant light source (or beam or ray) in this dream, though which is probably implied to be the seeming daytime setting itself (though I do not recall seeing a sunbeam coming from a window or doorway).

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Updated on Friday, 1 July 2016: I forgot that “coming out of a tree” could also be a play on “The Lorax”, who came out of a tree after it was chopped down. This then, would also seemingly be a reference to mortality rather than just birth. “The Lorax” was broadcast first on Valentine’s Day in 1972 and my father died on Valentine’s Day in 1979. The connection seems obvious now. There are probably hundreds (more like thousands) of markers like this in my dreams which I have not discovered yet.

Morning of August 2, 2015. Sunday.



There is a small hill on the side of a larger hill sloped down to my left with a single tree growing on the top and a small cave within the smaller hill that is slightly to the left at first. Looking more closely upon approach, tree roots hang down from the ceiling of the cave. This creates somewhat of an unusual impression that I cannot put words to. It gives me pause to think that, even though the tree is possibly very old, many of its roots are exposed within the cave, even more-so by anyone who wants to mess about in the cave. In fact, I even get the impression of an unsavory character looking around the side of the hill to my right.

Going partly into the cave though mostly staying by the entrance, I discover that the roots are actually not roots, but the trunk of some sort of miniature exotic tree (possibly a fruit tree of some kind). The top of the tree is in fact very green and I now see that the roof of the cave has nothing hanging from it as was seen just previously. Now I think that this special tree may even be more vulnerable than the tree above (even though it is unlikely it would have flourished in a dark cave as such) as it is seemingly much younger and certainly smaller.

However, it soon dawns on me that I am, in fact, in the cave myself (rather than looking in from just outside) and am looking out at a normal-sized tree in a field that is a fair distance from the cave, as I realize I am looking at a blue sky from my viewpoint rather than the dark recesses of a cave. (There is a brief sense of deja vu relating to something about commentary on dream journals, yet I cannot quite focus and I am in no way lucid and the idea of a dream journal, especially a digital one, falsely seems somewhat abstract and “out of reach”). I am wondering if I should feel vulnerable now that I am in the cave and am not sure if I should exit. I do not really focus on the illogical changes of perspective and imagery and placement that I would otherwise just enjoy in light sleep paralysis (during the speedier imagery before it slows down enough to “enter” when a more interesting setting or location appears).

When I was very young, I played near a recess in a hill on Chipmunk Coulee, though the “cave” was not very deep. I remember at least one photograph where I was sitting in the area, which is probably with at least one relative now. I remember the unusual perspective I had at that age (which carried over into some later dreams) of being “between worlds” just by sitting within the entrance (part of me outside, part inside).

Morning of February 22, 1992. Saturday.



My dream girl (oh…except for one little thing - she is now real) approaches the Tree of Knowledge. There is a resonance whereby, though there is change, the form can still be discerned over time. Remote viewing comes so easily at times. For her, I was born, even before her own birth. Humanity has no answers or even a scrap of knowledge concerning my nature, but that has never been problematic in any serious sense.

I see the universe at the base, the roots alive, almost octopus-like. Above each root is an eye-like structure, the eyes somewhat catlike, though actually each “eye” is more like a portal over time. A spiral. So I draw these facets as spirals. Within these roots are smaller roots. On and on. Of course, everyone doodles spirals and many-eyed octopus trees with hooked roots at some point in their lives. Yes?

When she was much younger, Zsuzsanna drew a rather surreal image in her journal. Years later, when I was writing to her and her family, I drew a similar concept on the outside of an envelope without having any clue of what she had drawn. Once again, the truth unveils (even though she already knew who I was with my very first letter - after all, for whatever reason, she had found me and remote-viewed my life since her birth - endless proof; everywhere).

Being only one of hundreds (make that thousands) of similar occurrences, which is quite beneficial, as it stops ordinary people from wanting to be near one (faces of fear, faces of bafflement, faces of anger) - thus less misleading and misguided rubbish from their limited awareness of the universe casts one’s way - it does not take a genius to know the “cop outs” of humanity are of no value for one seeking truth in their own path. People have tried to influence me since I was very young. I gawk at their audacity and limited understanding. Yet there is still respect for them as living beings.

The first image is scanned from one of my wife’s old journals. The second from the envelope I sent from America to Australia (without knowing of the contents of her journals). This one is a freebie and for mild amusement. For all the ones that are “too close”, I have learned that most people do not have the capacity to either believe or understand. It is a predictable habit people have to run from the Source rather than embrace it and thus many always keep their back to it. I had nothing to fear.

Which does not mean, of course, that the universe is a plant-like octopus reaching out to grab you.

Morning of February 17, 1991. Sunday.



I consider this dream precognitive due to its vivid and personal nature regarding upcoming contact with my future wife a short time before my first highly unlikely and unexpected communication with her in real life. It had the very similar mood and awareness found in my more personally precognitive dreams and the extra layer of focus.

I have absolutely no doubt that this dream (of many others) somehow “announced” my upcoming contact and partnership with my soulmate (lifelong “mystery girl”). I would have to be extremely shortsighted (as well as wholly ignorant of my own consciousness and previous experiences) to see it differently. I would like to be clear that the opinions of skeptics mean nothing to me.

In my dream, I am back in Cubitis (Florida) on the south side of the front section of the shed. Oddly though, at the same time, I seem to be doing some gardening for sister Marilyn at her house in Wisconsin. Over time, I pull up several larger weeds.

Eventually, I find a stubborn “root” which I believe to be that of a larger plant somewhere in the area, perhaps even a tree or at least a shrub. When I pull on it, it turns out to be an electrical cord and an old antique lamp (similar to one my sister had in real life) emerges from the ground, entangled in actual roots. I feel a vivid sense of wonder and awe that is very hard to describe.

The lamp has two figures on the base, a presumed married couple effigy, but very old-fashioned (possibly 1700s); a dark-haired woman in a wedding dress and her partner. There is a very unusual emotion as if it is an important discovery and that the man may somehow be “me”. It seems very personal and significant. I am thinking about whether or not the lamp will still work after being buried in the ground for so long.