• Lucid Dreaming - Dream Views

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    1. Dangerous Lake

      by , 09-10-2018 at 11:36 AM
      Morning of September 10, 2018. Monday.

      Reading time: 1 min. Readability score: 63.

      Natural melatonin is still present during my last dream of the sleep cycle, and I am still recovering from residual flu, so water induction is rendered as a lake with problematic associations.

      I am locked in an undesirable scenario that features villains trying to recover weapons and explosives from the lake. (This likely relates to my immune system and natural melatonin as associated with being an antioxidant and probably the glymphatic system, which operates as such during sleep.) I get the impression they will take over an entire town or state soon if they succeed.

      I stop most of them with a rifle. One man seems to have a bulletproof vest, as he is not affected by being shot. However, a sea serpent gets him from behind. I attach a naval mine to one villain, which pulls him down to the center of the lake. I push some villains back into the lake, and they do not resurface.

      In the last scene, there is one villain left who climbs down a big hill. There is a smaller naval mine on shore. He blows himself up as soon as he tries to move it.

      On one level, I can sense my anticipation as related to my subliminal awareness of being in the dream state (as is often the case) and the ability to manipulate my dream’s outcome. It is not the same as lucidity as I am not viably aware I am dreaming. (Lucidity and dream control are independent of each other, despite popular misconception.)

    2. A Nimbin Man with Balloons

      by , 01-03-2018 at 12:04 PM
      Morning of January 3, 2018. Wednesday.

      My dream begins in an undefined setting. I do not possess any conscious self threads other than a vague association with Nimbin and Tuntable Falls (which I had written about in a recent entry). I am outside, though there are ambiguous shifts where I am also inside at the same time at certain points.

      An unfamiliar male of about thirty is present. Apparently, the police are following him, believing him to be carrying drugs. He has a large backpack and some sort of oversized balloon. Eventually, the balloon grows larger and proves to be that of a dinosaur, a tyrannosaurus (though there is no implied threat as it is just a balloon).

      Until the last segment, I am not implied to be a direct part of the scenario. However, I am curiously linked to the dynamics of the balloon. When it expands and grows taller, it seems my dream self is also growing larger and taller, though not implied to be seen by the other dream characters.

      Somehow, another balloon is present and expands. I believe it is meant to be a rabbit, though there is not that much focus on it.

      A third balloon begins to fill with air and grow large and tall, but this time it is a reindeer, somewhat anthropomorphic. Again, I am linked to the balloon, feeling myself growing larger and even hitting my head on the ceiling (though it is not painful) as I watch the reindeer’s head bump the ceiling to my left, even though we are also implied to be outside.

      From here, I am annoyed by the presence of RAS (the police) via the preconscious. What started out as the usual return flight waking symbolism (as a flying reindeer is a flight symbol, which truncated the rabbit symbolism of which symbolizes being deeper in sleep) to vestibular system symbolism, triggers an odd level of semi-lucidity to where I am ready to shoot everyone (which symbolizes real-time RAS mediation of the dream state). Bumping my head on the ceiling means a part of my mind is holding me in the dream state, though as I am only semi-lucid, I am unsure of my waking space status and physical orientation. Still, I shoot about six officers in the forehead. They are ducking behind some cover (some sort of flat vertical structure), but I get them one at a time in my semi-lucid waking space. (As I have written in past entries, the association with the man possibly carrying illicit drugs is a dream state potential reinduction factor, as they relate to altering the level of consciousness or unconsciousness.)

    3. Escaping back to where I started

      by , 12-12-2017 at 07:50 PM
      Morning of December 12, 2017. Tuesday.

      In this dream, there is the transition to water reinduction (water as symbolizing sleep), though my conscious self identity is virtually nonexistent. Even being in the Loomis Street house’s backyard, there is not even the association with my relatives who lived there for years. While in the backyard near the alley (where I have not been in real life since February 1994), there are a number of unfamiliar characters. There is something about going somewhere, another country perhaps, and we start our journey.

      The Loomis and Gillette Street area transform into some sort of distorted wharf, which I believe is meant to be with the ocean on the left (even though Wisconsin is nowhere near the ocean in reality). All of the people we meet are dark-skinned and may be Sri Lankan (which I seem to recall being said as such in my dream). They are all males in their twenties, supposedly refugees. It is illegal for us to be there or walk over the wharf to wherever it is we are going. That will apparently not stop us though and our group walks over the long wharf. Still, the other males are very friendly even though they seem slightly confused that we are not like them. I start talking to them in Spanish, “Cuando salga el sol me despertaré”. (“When the sun rises I will wake” - note that I am not viably aware I am dreaming.) I repeat “cuando” several times, as a question. They only shrug and smile.

      There is an area where a doorway is too narrow to go through. I do something to where we continue from near the right of it, though it does not make any sense. It seems as if I somehow moved the doorway itself by “sliding” it with my hand.

      From here, I am riding in a van, on the front passenger side, on the right (implying America). The driver of this van is riding a motorcycle a car length ahead of the van (which makes no sense at all, but this is how it is experienced).

      The port authorities are now following us. Because we had gone through the restricted area that held refugees, we are to be captured and shot, no matter where we decide to go or live. The man on the motorcycle is shot once and splits into several pieces, rolling over the road, the van I am in continuing to apparently drive itself. I do not feel very emotional.

      After traveling a long distance, miles away from the Loomis Street house’s backyard, I find myself back on Loomis Street, in the Loomis Street house’s kitchen (likely due to mild hunger in sleep). Of course, this makes no sense either.

      I am presumably the last one of my group left. I now have a very vague emergent awareness of relatives having lived on Loomis Street years ago, though no current conscious self identity. An unknown male comes into the kitchen from the south room to shoot me. I decide that this is RAS mediation (even though I am not lucid) and that he is the preconscious factor and thus I shoot him first and then soon wake. I will not tolerate being victimized in my own dream, even when there is no viable thread of current conscious self identity.

    4. Organization and Device

      by , 09-16-2017 at 03:16 PM
      Morning of September 16, 2017. Saturday.

      Reading time: 3 min 34 sec. Readability score: 75.

      My dream atypically begins in liminal space of the type that is usually an end marker, which a parking lot represents. The main characters other than myself are Ray Romano from “Everybody Loves Raymond” though his wife is Jane Wyatt as from the much older television show “Father Knows Best.“ Ray, Jane, their fictional daughter (who seems like a young version of Zsuzsanna, though my dream self does not recognize her as such), and I are in a dark blue pickup truck. I am in the cab, but I later ride in the back with their daughter.

      An additional recurring dream state indicator (other than the parking lot) is the pickup truck itself (due to the play on “bed”). The first situation relates to an appointment made by her parents (I assume with no choice in the matter), because of a government agency coming to take their daughter to place her in a group home for specialized foster care. When other men arrive, parking at a distance from the truck, I take out a small cylindrical rod with a button on one end. I push it, and it transforms into a large pistol. I shoot at the car. After my third shot, it explodes dramatically and consumes four or five unoccupied cars near it.

      An unknown man on the opposite side of the truck looks on in a puzzled manner. He does not leave the area of his car. He stands behind its open driver’s side door. So as I do not get found with a gun on me, I press a button on the gun’s handle, and it changes back into the small rod.

      I ride in the back with their daughter. I tell Ray to drive down a particular road. Curiously, there are automatically operating French doors set up across part of it. (They are not a part of a building.) We go through these doors. I explain to their daughter about her need to grow up in a family environment with her real parents instead of by the government, which often results in cognitive dissonance through half-attained brainwashing. We talk for a long time, though I do not recall every detail. I agree with her that while some parents are not capable of viably raising children, that does not mean the government should have all children under their observation or utilize profiling based on race or cultural background.

      I am aware of owning an expansive organization and area of land in which people live as they want as long as there is no crime. We arrive there, and the family makes plans for their living arrangements.

      Before the three new people move into their new home, I talk about the confirmation of their state of health. The daughter says I am not a doctor. “Yes, I am,” I confidently reply.

      I press a button on my device, and it transforms into an unusual machine. Parts grow out as a result of nanite activity. It resembles an oversized embossing label maker. The girl kneels down, and I look at the top of the device as I hold it directly over her head. It has scanned her entire body for any health issues and reports (by the print that appears on the surface of the top) that there are no concerns. I have Jane kneel as well. The device does not display any potential problems. Ray seems to have a cholesterol issue, but I will address that later.

      An unfamiliar young black man is present. He seems to know me well. I ask him how his friends and family are. They are well. I go into a large room that has an ambiguous outdoors area on one side (a commonly recurring dream distortion that is impossible to resolve consciously). There are others in the room. One male is hunting for food. He shoots at a strange figure that runs behind trees and to the left. “Was that the Tasmanian Devil?” I ask cheerfully (though it looked more like a bizarre cartoon rabbit with human legs and wearing track shorts).

      I feel a change in my level of consciousness, so I go down a flight of steps to vivify my dream. (This is even though I am not lucid. However, long-term knowledge of reactive representation often carries over into the dream state).

      I am in a featureless field (a dream setting that represents an "empty” area of waking space). I decide to fly but not that far above the ground. I fly stomach down and use my arms to gain speed by pushing down against the ground to propel myself forward. I enjoy this more and more. I feel it will make me stronger in the arms while not tiring the rest of my body. I am aware of Leonard S (my pinhead friend from King Street). He is standing near a storefront that comes into view to my left. I am also aware of an older unknown male whom I feel may benefit from flying in the way I am as I consider he may need to strengthen his heart muscles in a less stressful way. (He seems about seventy years old.) I continue to fly this way. When I wake, my right hand is pushing down on the mattress though I am only partly on my stomach by way of my left side.

      Updated 07-23-2018 at 12:23 PM by 1390

    5. A Very Illogical Police Stakeout

      by , 08-30-2017 at 01:16 PM
      Morning of August 30, 2017. Wednesday.

      My dream’s setting is a unique composite as always. (I have never non-lucidly dreamt of the same setting more than once, even in tens of thousands of closely studied and fully mapped non-lucid dreams for over fifty years. This aspect of non-lucid dreams is due to the incidental real-time dynamics of being in non-lucid REM sleep, where reflective cognitive capabilities do not exist as in lucid dreams and even more so in apex lucidity where automatic conscious control of the dream state is achieved.)

      The back area of our house is modeled after our present home, (our backyard south of our house), except that the area between the short hallway to the back door and the minimally-rendered kitchen has no dividing layout (and is all an open area). The implied east side of this rendering (assuming our present home) is loosely modeled after the north side of a previous home on Stadcor Street in Brisbane (though the driveway more like the Gellibrand Street apartment in Clayfield), the third-from-last house we lived in. The front of my dream’s house, implied to be oriented northerly, is modeled more accurately after the west area of the Stadcor Street house, which was also the front of that house.

      For several minutes, my dream features the recurring event of me taking supposed public money out of a device in our home (that is, a device in our home which is apparently used by the public and the money going elsewhere, which makes no sense from a waking life standpoint, especially as the public would not otherwise have use of our home, the only way to explain this being real-time symbolism related to receiving thoughts from other people via the collective unconscious which was validated long ago from “receiving” from Zsuzsanna long before we met in reality). There is no backstory on what purpose the device serves. It may be some sort of unlikely vending machine (though is too small to serve that purpose). The device is about the length of my hand and looks like a miniature vertically elongated cash register. Zsuzsanna is present and so is Marilyn (older half-sister on my Mother’s side who died in 2014, though I have no memory of her death here and she appears as she was in the 1980s). I make three attempts to get money out. My second and third attempts make no sense as I had already gotten all the coins out in the first attempt, by shaking the device upside-down, yet many more come out on my second and third attempts. The sound of the clinking coins, the movement and momentum of my hands, and the movement of the internal parts of the device are rendered very realistically.

      I am eventually aware of a police presence in our backyard. There are at least seven officers standing around on stakeout, though not for us, but a criminal who lives in the area. Still, I am concerned they might see the various coins lying everywhere on the floor. I make a quick attempt to kick sheets of paper and parts of clothes over them. I also slip some into my left pocket. They ask me through the back door if I know a certain man or had seen them and I say no. (I do not recall the name though I know it did not sound familiar.)

      At one point, I notice that an unfamiliar female police officer is closest to our house. I also notice that the screen is torn down the middle from the top of the screen door, about three-quarters of the way down. (though we do not have a back screen door in reality.) She pushes it towards me from outside as if to draw more attention to it, almost slapping me in the face with it, but not intentionally. There is an additional partial horizontal tear in the screen (lower down) of less significance and which seems to have already been there for a long time, but this vertical tear was apparently done recently by the authorities, supposedly for my benefit and theirs regarding their stakeout. I find it puzzling but I do not comment. In a short time, my brother-in-law Bob makes his first appearance in this dream (mostly as he appeared in the 1980s). From the left side of the solid wooden back door, he closes it over the screen door (and it closes from the opposite side as in reality). “This door can be closed,” he says cheerfully though informatively. I question if his act is thought out very well, but I do not comment.

      In the next scene, I am going to the front of our house. Off to my right, through the windows of the adjoining room I am walking through, the criminal first makes his presence known. He drives rapidly (north based on our present home) over our driveway, the car’s tires loudly crunching and spitting gravel and dust (the driveway of which our present home does not have as such, as it is just a very narrow side yard in reality, though, as mentioned in the second paragraph, this seems based on dynamics of when we lived in Clayfield on Gellibrand Street despite the room being like the one on Stadcor Street, though my dream’s house is at about ground level, unlike in reality for all three locations). This event makes no sense at all, as he is suddenly driving rapidly from our backyard, directly from where several police officers had just been standing. I wonder if they even noticed he was there.

      In the front room of our house (which again, is now of the Stadcor Street house) I look out the front windows. Our front doors (screen door and main door) are both open. The criminal has come up our high front steps (despite our house being implied to be low-set a couple minutes previously) and I politely nod “hello” to him through the doorway even though I do not want his imposition. He has a scruffy beard and light red hair. I eventually notice that he is coming in and there are at least two females with him, one pregnant, though otherwise very slim and wearing tight clothes (this character being directly modeled after a contestant on the Australian “Family Feud” game show very recently).

      I suddenly change my mind about welcoming him (which is based on a subliminal desire to sleep longer) and now I am not even sure what good the police presence is doing. I boldly tell him to get out. He becomes very angry. I notice that he is carrying some sort of rifle of illogical appearance. Instead of doing anything to me from near the doorway or even approaching me, he leaves the house to go into the street and starts shooting at our house. The noise is very loud and puffs of white smoke (dream state indicator) are floating everywhere like little clouds (this scene partly as a result of real-life environmental noise). I head towards the back of the house, which once again is more like our present home.

      As illogically large bullets are now firing through the walls of our house from the front and the back, the female police officer (still near the back door) advises me to get down. I get down on the floor and wake up in the exact same position I had just been in my dream. I then realize that the police officer seemed modeled after an additional young version of Zsuzsanna.

      This dream entry is probably too long to include a full decoding, but I will note a few details. Emergent consciousness and preconscious factors seem to be “after” each other here and I am (as my personified subconscious which again has no reflective cognitive capabilities despite the bizarre but popular disinformation) caught in the middle, which is amusing, but very atypical, though we did watch two episodes of “Cops” just before sleeping (though this is probably also related to news about North Korea, hopefully not prescient). The torn screen of the back door is a known dream state indicator, which represents a growing metaphorical opening that otherwise divides preconscious from emergent consciousness as a “screen”, though this is more about Zsuzsanna’s emergent consciousness “sending” to mine in real time. (As such, I am surprised that I did not become viably lucid, especially at least semi-lucid, though my dream did noticeably vivify past this point.)

      Updated 08-30-2017 at 01:18 PM by 1390

    6. Shootout, Telekinesis, and “Skipper”

      by , 07-27-2016 at 09:33 AM
      Morning of July 27, 2016. Wednesday.

      One area of a building I find myself in, as I am becoming mostly lucid, seems to be a small private bar, though with several people, mostly unfamiliar, though Ian Somerhalder is here. (This actor was on both “Lost” and “The Vampire Diaries” so curiously can represent both subliminal water induction and dream flight as well as the circadian rhythms factor of nightfall and the dream state, all simultaneously.)

      I am lucid, but not viably lucid (to where I can automatically direct everything) and I do not enter apex lucidity (which requires pushing open a heavy wooden door for me or at least going through a porch or open doorway) even though I am aware I am dreaming.

      I start talking about how I am dreaming and try to prove this to the patrons of the bar. Ian looks on with a slight interest and becomes curious when I press my hand into the rectangular wooden and metal bar table. However, instead of my hand phasing through the table, the implied polarity is skewed as I push my hand down through the surface so that the wood and metal moves, creating a hand-shaped hole in the top of the table (with some of the metal part ribboning around part of my hand), the main piece sticking to the palm of my hand as I continue to press down. This is not quite what I had intended of course, but Ian still has a look of awe on his face with a vague hint of amusement. I try it a few more times at the main bar, but my hands and fingers now only meet with total solidity. I keep tapping my fingers and hand on the surface and only meet logical resistance as in reality. This annoys me greatly. The counter’s solidity is very realistic and uncompromising.

      I leave the area and soon find myself in a shootout with police officers and a number of 1960s gangsters. I do not have a gun and I do not materialize one at any point. I end up in an area where I notice an unknown male of about forty years of age. He is wearing a black shirt that reads (in white letters) “Do not shoot me because I am Claude’s (my full name in possessive) guardian.” I find this very peculiar and thus question why and how an Angel of Retrieval could possibly be in a lucid dream other than as comic relief. I also find this scene (and him) somewhat hypocritical on two levels. Firstly, the shirt is possibly bulletproof, and secondly, I myself have no writing on my own shirt and it is likely not bulletproof either. Still, I somehow manage to dodge all the bullets that are randomly flying everywhere. I try to summon the shirt from his body into my hands, which works, but then decide he can have it anyway.

      I then go into a large area where the timber structure of the walls and ceiling is rather complex and a number of people are having a party. I decide to use telekinesis to make the ceiling collapse for no particular reason and leave the building as it collapses behind me.

      I end up walking on a very large and wide wharf that extends out about thirty feet or more over a gray ocean and it seems just prior to sunrise. A number of people are present, but no one is familiar. I make eye contact with a random male of about thirty and try to communicate with telepathy but he just stares back blankly. I eventually start touching and pushing people (not aggressively) to see how “stable” they are.

      A young girl approaches (probably a young version of my wife Zsuzsanna I perceive as being asleep - thus the ocean, which represents sleep and the dream state) and she seems slightly upset but does not see me at all (even though I am not phased or invisible as far as I know). There are a couple other people in the area. She seems concerned about the dolphin known as “Skipper” and it possibly swimming away or “leaving” her (though this is only by assumption because I think of “Skipper” as a dolphin for some reason, when it is actually supposed to be “Flipper” - so this association with Skipper as a dolphin may be completely wrong, though it does have meaning). I look out at the ocean and start to hear unusual music (an old song I wrote at age twelve based on “When Wakes The Dreamer!” from Eerie Magazine) and decide to leave my dream.

      This last part is rather interesting and contains an element I could not possibly have known about, as Zsuzsanna had never mentioned that she had her doll named Skipper (which was female) near the ocean (the only doll she took that time), and also, had to leave it behind when her family moved. In my dream though, at least vaguely, I did see “Skipper” as a distortion of “Flipper” which would be me as the dreamer leaving that essence of me behind in the symbolic ocean of sleep (while Zsuzsanna was still sleeping as I woke thus I was “leaving her” as we were then at different levels of consciousness), while it is also an incidental play on “Skippy” (the kangaroo). A doll is also the dreamer within a dream, as it is still and “held” by the superior whole consciousness and not active in sleep.
    7. Shoot-Out Surprise

      by , 06-27-2015 at 10:26 AM
      Morning of June 27, 2015. Saturday.

      In this atypical dream setup, I play two roles; I am a different character - an unknown unfamiliar male of about forty - as well as my dream-self from a different perspective much more like my real-self - though not disembodied (as is typical when I am more than one character or character’s perspective) and most often watching the action as if my dream’s scenario was part of an older and “recognized” movie. Until the ending scene, it mostly seems completely impersonal.

      My “arch-enemy” from school days, David K, is the leader of a group involved in organized crime. The gang is following my other character around a neighborhood in a small town. The “other me” is aware of this at times but there is no confrontation until the last scene. The “other me” has been doing gardening for the most part and does not seem to be involved in anything relating to any group of criminals or mafia associations.

      Finally, David is standing forward and center within a group of about nine men. The “other me” (who is shorter and stockier than I) looks at them while he is standing behind a small square “window” (just large enough to display his entire face but not much more than that) in a large tall hedge that borders a longer area of someone’s front yard. It seems that David has given the order to shoot this man (though this does not seem to bother me even though he is supposedly still the “other me” at this point). It seems a bit unusual that the man was just standing there looking at the others through the hedge’s “window” in this manner - though in some ways, seemingly caught by surprise as such (as if perhaps he had been thinking they would not notice him).

      Just as David’s men are preparing to shoot, most of them with rifles and soon lifting them, the man behind the hedge shoots all but two (David and one of his men behind him) with two unseen powerful guns he is apparently holding, one in each hand, which are hidden behind the hedge (which of course is highly unlikely, as he did not even have time to take aim). This comes as a sort of odd surprise even to me yet somehow also seems familiar as if from an actual movie. David is very startled and appears very worried (but is unharmed). Suddenly, the other male shoots the male who had still been standing behind David, who had been holding a pistol aimed at David’s head all that time (though I did not notice until this point).

      The other male comes out from behind the hedge and hugs David and David starts crying. At this point, David seems at least two feet shorter than the other male. The other male explains that he had been reading the hand signals of David’s man - and apparently David did not understand the system of hand signals his own men used, which were building up in planning to get rid of David. Around this time, my main dream-self becomes the other male and now sees from his perspective as my dream comes to a close. I am then, however, more like my actual real-self and David more reflective of his high school persona to some extent.
      Tags: guns, hedge, shooting
    8. No three-storey houses for me - and “shoot first” mentality

      by , 10-01-2013 at 09:53 PM
      Morning of October 1, 2013. Tuesday.

      Lately (mostly over only the past few months), I have had a recurring “dream habit” of immediately shooting anyone that even slightly annoys me in a dream scenario (almost always near the last three-quarters to the ending of my dream) - although it probably has not vividly occurred in dreams more than about ten times thus far. I am not quite sure how this developed - especially as my patience with people in real life is much higher than many I know of - or perhaps this is actually the reason - to safely “unwind” in my dream, so to speak. I seem to immediately be able to use my hand as a gun (as I am not fully clear on if my hand is actually holding anything when I shoot) although there is always a gun-like sound. The other character (usually male) drops on the first shot and is out of my dream entirely - and for the most part, no other additional character even seems to notice. Strangely enough, it does not even feel like a violent act in my dream, more of a way to simply eliminate certain annoying characters of my dream to move on to a potentially better scenario - my mind is quite focused and certain and aware on this act as if it is the right thing to do at any time within any dream - and how it works - as I said, a new actual dream “habit”.

      This dream, at one point, is focused on a lifelong dream theme of three-storey houses not being quite “safe”. In one part of my dream, I seem to be looking over our “new home”. My oldest daughter is much younger - however, it could also be that our baby daughter is much older, yet she does mostly seem like our oldest daughter Amelia at about six years or more younger. Our “home” first seems to be a very large garage-like structure with a low roof, with no additional rooms. It has a sort of old dampness like a cave and is on the corner of a city block. Coincidentally, this seems connected directly to (but completely different locations) 415 N Wilson Street/Avenue (but the “actual” in-dream location corresponding with 2 West Oak Street, near the “Tree of Knowledge” that has been there since I was very young), which, in turn, was a scene from another dream I wrote about on here recently. Not only that, in Google maps, I spotted the triangular area and even a yellow smaller bulldozer-like vehicle on the 415 address, which eerily seems to come straight from “The Dead One” entry on here even though it was a childhood dream of many years back.

      Later, though, we are in the same location, but there is something about needing to move. It is a three-storey house. The third floor is sort of disintegrating over time, the floorboards unsafe to walk on, so we do not really use the third floor anymore. Curiously, even though I have had similar dreams about such odd floors all my life, it was only in very recent times that I actually lived in (or even been in at all in real life, for that matter) a house with weird, thin floorboards with larger gaps between them (which also happens to be where the astronomically highest rent ever paid is, as well - even though this house would probably not even be allowed to stand in the USA). This of course, had to be some form of precognition, as no matter how strange or unlikely dream imagery is, it often turns out to reflect amazing foresight of various kinds even for the very distant future.

      There seems to be concern about daughter Amelia’s safety and we are planning to move from the house in my dream (in real life, our present house is only one storey). There are scenes about information on why people should not live in a three-storey house, the third floor which is often more quickly in a state of disintegration, perhaps with a connection to the idea of relics in an attic. It may also relate to a sense of mainstream group mind being “above” me in numbers, yet in a state of decay relative to knowledge (whereas the basement would be the supraconscious, both positive and negative totality). Realistically, it does not make that much sense at all for a higher floor in a house to be “older” or more worn out than the rest of the house. If anything, an upper floor, when an addition to a two-storey house, would have to be new or less used, not more. Yet in some dreams, buildings seem to age in “reverse” (at least relative to the first floor) as if the building in my dream had somehow been built from the top floor down(?).

      Later, as we are mostly no longer in the house, I look out to the opposite side of the street and notice a very large and metallic green lamppost on the corner (at least five times bigger than what it should be - an exact, but “giant” model of the lamppost near the “Tree of Knowledge” in my hometown), across from where our front door would be (which in real life is now part of a bank’s parking lot, called “Suntrust” - and across the street is an inn, not a warehouse). I expect that it will fall over but miss our house, and it does, with a very loud crash near an industrial building or warehouse (rather than the inn). There is also an odd parallel sense of the “Witness Tree” or Witness Tree junction, also in Florida, and reminding me of both the Rod Stewart song “Broken Arrow” (a special song my wife and I heard prior to meeting) where he says “I will meet you at the Witness Tree, leave the whole world behind”, and the Wendy Matthews “Witness Tree” CD that came out around the same time I came to Australia (1994).

      I go out to look around and when I am in the area, I am mistaken for the main member of a repair team to fix the lamppost and told to write down the serial number for the main damaged section of the light from the lamp section. Another man shows up shortly. I have a piece of paper (about half of A4 size) and a pencil. I start to write the code with the paper being on an outer window ledge of the warehouse, part of it being 415WS - 415 Wilson Street (which I think I change by drawing over it to something like X465 or similar). I ask him in a sarcastic manner if I have to write up a report (as I was the only witness to what had happened - but the report is to mostly document the exact levels of damage and repair costs) and, being slightly surprised by his answer, he says yes. I ask him about what form I should use and he makes a remark about needing to travel to get it from the company (even though there seems to be a folder of work and report forms on the outer window ledge of the warehouse with yellow and blue sheets as well as white sheets for original copies). Everything must be done by me - as he is only a foreman who only gives the orders on what people do regarding street maintenance (I have not worked for a street department in about twenty years - the last one being in Onalaska). I start to regret getting involved and being mistaken for a street department worker, but I do start to write out the longer number. I have a little trouble with the pencil as the lead is somewhat dull, so have to trace over the lines, pressing harder, in an attempt to darken them. The number codes seem very important in relating to something else - they have several sixes and at least one nine, so I focus on them for quite some time - perhaps some important, almost barely familiar patterns. This turns out to be various distortions of planck’s constant.

      The other (first) man yells at me for taking so long in copying and writing out the serial code (of which I think there are at least four or five sections of mostly numbers and a few other letters in addition to the “X” and “WS”). I feel a vague sense of frustration - as I know I should be getting more out of what I am seeing on the paper (focusing on the thicker spiral of the number six which has erasure marks around the “stem” of the six), but calmly materialize a gun in my hand and shoot him. A short time passes and I shoot the other man as well. I then contemplate shooting all of the others (although I see no one else) that are supposedly not a part of “my” dream realm and slowly wake with no additional drama.

      My wife’s dream of the same time period had similar elements, even the concept of being in the third floor of a house.

      Other associations in addition to those already mentioned above:

      “Lily of the Lamplight” I sang to my wife on a cassette tape before we met (a part of her name in English meaning “Lily”).

      A recurring childhood dream of Susan R, the “other”, sitting on a bench near the “Tree of Knowledge” and crying (which would have also been near the same lamppost).

      The seriously weird-sounding David Essex song (from 1973) “Lamplight”.

      A number of incredibly strange coincidences and “parallels” to the new Wendy Matthews CD (all of her past CDs also having bizarre coincidences and “parallels”), even the “same” address in a song title (but in real life, a different town of course).

      Important Links:

      “Tree of Knowledge” with green lamppost near:


      I have included this next first link for my own reference (though incomplete in light of her newest album related to the link after that), because, when it comes to Wendy Matthews songs, it gets pretty crazy with at least a hundred strange coincidences relating to her music and my wife and I, one recent album (one song “explained” in the second link here) has both the name of my oldest daughter and even has this song with (including the same three-digit number and name) an actual street address (but most assuredly a different town) from my childhood.


      http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aGBDy3CnsIA (Note the master key “twenty-two” gate, as a heart - on the tattoo on the back at the end of the video which is apparently the album cover - and her rather odd comment - “tattooed on my memory banks” relative to things manifesting later in life - her exact words). I’m putting this up, as I consider it very precise validation at several levels (for me, personally). There was a lot more, but I decided not to post it here, as it is far too detailed, complex, and personal and is, quite frankly, too “miraculous” so to speak - some things should probably stay sacred.
      Tags: shooting