Blue_Opossum

Morning of September 17, 2016. Saturday.



I am with my wife Zsuzsanna looking at a smoother version of Google Maps that is almost like watching clear film footage. The view is being shown as if driving down Highway Seventeen (now called Cubitis Avenue). I show her where Harold M lives, going south at first, although the orange grove is gone. I see the new fence near where I used to live.

After a time, I am on the scene without giving my transition much notice. I appear to be just south of my old home, but it seems to be gone. In fact, the entire area seems empty except for one shed closer to the highway. The area seems shaped somewhat like an elongated right triangle. I tell someone else how “my house is gone”. However, a short time later, I notice it is actually there, though appears to be some sort of greeting card store with the entrance to the south (rather than west). Although this puzzles me, I have a interest in continuing north to see how things have changed.

I somehow end up at an unfamiliar travel agency in a tall building, near a long counter on the north end of a small room that also features a tall postcard rack, though I am not really interested in a brochure someone gives me. I am now trying to find my way out of the building. I try to go through a doorway, but it seems it is not actually a doorway because it is too narrow for anyone to go through and is more like an open corner of two truncated walls with a narrow glass and metal window. I ask an older businessman how to get out of the building and he points to a flight of steps just to my left. I soon see that one can go either up or down from here. The steps going down appear to lead to an enclosed parking area. I try going up but decide it is probably going to be too steep. I decide to use the front entrance, where I should have left through in the first place.

I soon end up in a similar situation in what seems like a restaurant. This time I decide to go down a flight of stairs but I do it by sitting down and then sliding down on my backside. There is an unfamiliar woman with her young daughter and they also use the stairs but the woman seems confused about where she is going. “Get back here,” she says to her daughter, because the bottom of the stairs opens out into an enclosed street, which I then follow into an outside area. Even though using a flight of stairs in a dream shifts my consciousness in a more perceptible way, I do not become lucid.

I go past an automobile repair shop and filling station. There are four young men, perhaps only about nineteen or twenty years of age, who are working on a car. I think one of them is Brenda W’s younger brother Albert. I then realize that would be ridiculous since he would be around fifty years old by now. Still, he and the others seem cheerful and happy to see me even though I am probably a total stranger to these four. I then decide that I will actually look for Brenda.

“Do you know where Brenda lives?” I ask, giving her full name. They nod happily and say they will show me. Along the way, I notice it now seems late at night. Apparently she still lives in the same house she has all her life. I follow them northward. After a time, instead of four mechanics, they transform into mimes, even being dressed differently with no discernible changing-of-clothes event. I do not really regard this absurd change. They circle around me while making exaggerated up-and-down wing motions with their arms as if they were birds (which in fact is a tertiary dream sign due to the movie and cartoon gag of the circling of birds around the head of someone who has been knocked unconscious, though I do not catch this very obvious clue). They also pretend to be scuba divers and competitive swimmers as we continue along. Eventually, they all hold out their hands close to me as if expecting me to give them coins for their performances.

When we reach Brenda’s driveway when it now seems to be late morning after being late at night moments before, I give one of them fifty cents; two shiny American quarters. He tells me to follow the path to house number eight. They go on their way as I very soon see a metal screen door with the number eight written on it in black with a felt pen. I also see the numbers nine and ten written on the door with a felt pen, but those numbers have a diagonal line (which slopes down to the left) through them (to invalidate their previous implied usage as the house number it seems.

I see Brenda through the window of the screen door. She is sitting in an armchair. To my right, I curiously see, through a row of windows, a row of open bags of cement, gravel, and sand sitting inside the house but I do not think it to be that unusual. They are vertically propped up against the windows on my side so that I mostly only see the tops.

“You can just keep going on to the next house,” she says in her Southern accent and with undisguised sarcasm. She seems younger than she would actually be; about forty. Still, she slowly recognizes me and as she opens the door as I am still standing on the outside steps, I tell her how I am married to a wonderful woman and have five children. This is strange because I still do not have an iota of lucidity. I tell her that I am sorry for not telling her more about things when we were younger. We embrace, but it is not sexual in any way, more as a simple acknowledgement and preconsciousness to waking consciousness transition in liminal space.

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Brenda was usually a verified “stand-in” for my soulmate (Zsuzsanna) regardless of our real-life relationship. She sometimes formed half of a composite when my “mystery girl” was not more clearly defined as Zsuzsanna (before I met her). This dream seems unusual (especially after all this time) as she mostly seems to represent herself as well as my preconscious personification where she only appeared as such in my childhood dreams, and one dream of 1991 just prior to finding out my “mystery girl” (Zsuzsanna) was actually a real person with appearance, unlikely accent, birth date, birth location, and every single nuance (including unlikely mixed ethnicity) being the same since seen in dreams from earliest memory.

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I am slightly puzzled over the bags of cement. They appear near windows and may be a dream sign due to their resemblance to the shape of a pillow (thus could be a play on my pillow being subliminally perceived as being too hard or not of “perfect” comfort). However, gravel, cement, and dry sand sometimes represent low-level dehydration. It could be a mix of both, though I was atypically thirsty when I woke.

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Morning of September 19, 2015. Saturday.



I am searching for particular versions of a song that seems to be very important. I seem to be searching for information on it as well as supposedly rare recordings. It is the song “Liebestraum”, which I vaguely hear in the background at many points (as if of a dream within a dream). I am not sure why I need all of the rare copies of this music. I hear a beautiful slower orchestral version as well as other versions.

At one point, I start to think about how it is seemingly in waltz time, which surprises me somewhat in my absentminded reflections. Later, an unknown elderly lady tells me that my pronunciation of “Liebestraum” is incorrect and that it is pronounced like “life a soul”, which I do not question or in fact, even associate with English words for whatever reason. I am also curious about what “Liebestraum” means, though finding the actual music seems a lot more important than the title.

I manage to find a few less rare recordings of the music. I visit a library-like setting. I reflect on how the various chord-like structures flow throughout the music, seeming perfect in their transitions.

At one point, there is something about a militant group pretending to be passive and understanding of another group. It seems relevant to perhaps the late 1700s. It seems they pretend to be victims of a war or at least with fake injuries. I think they have the goal to infiltrate the other group eventually, but the concept is not fully clear. One (unknown) male has bandaged arms and the kind group carries him in a stretcher back to their location. However, there is not drama or personal threat at any point.

I do not remember hearing or playing “Liebestraum” in over thirty years (at least of which I remember). It means “Love Dream”, which I did not seem to know at all in my dream. I know that I did not know the meaning when I played it as a child.

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Morning of December 18, 1980. Thursday.



Summary: A town called “Circus World” does not seem to exist regardless of billboard indicators.

I am riding in a car in the back seat - with my older sister Carol also in the car in the front seat, and her husband Mel is driving (it seeming to be the car they own at the time in reality). It seems to be nearing six o‘clock in the evening. We are looking for an actual town near La Crosse or West Salem apparently called “Circus World”, though that is actually an attraction in Baraboo, Wisconsin in reality. Mel is regarding the billboards to determine where to go, but we never reach the town. It almost seems as if the fictional town of Circus World had moved years before. We go past some of the same sketchy billboards a few times over - most displaying an elephant head (back and forth in both directions, north and south, on a few occasions, Mel trying to determine if there is a main road that goes to the east or west). It may also turn out to be, I reason, a small town at the end of a back road, but we do not stop anywhere or get out of the car at any point. Perhaps it is not the right “season” for the town to be visible and is somehow invisible otherwise (or more reasonably, named differently during off-season).

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In real life, a few years prior to this dream, I had given Mel my paperback copy (which I read) of Alistair MacLean’s “Circus” as a Christmas present when I was a teenager (which was a spy fiction story or thriller). Though I saw it on the bookshelf in their home some time later, I was never sure if he would have read something like that and I never asked. That was possibly at least partly the “trigger” for this dream scenario. I also thought that perhaps he did not know what the plot involved due to the “unlikely” cover and title.

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Conclusion: A self-interpreting giveaway occurs; an inadvertent revelation that reveals that what is first read as “All star (Circus)” is actually “Alistair” upon closer examination. This is during hypnopompic dissolution.

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