Blue_Opossum

Early evening of September 21, 2018. Friday.

Reading time: 1 min 56 sec. Readability score: 64.



During an evening nap, I slip into typical VSC in which I had borrowed a truck from someone unknown. I drive along in an unfamiliar neighborhood but with no focus on its unfamiliarity. The sense of movement, which begins my dream, is vivid throughout.

I stop near an unknown residence where two unfamiliar women are present. For no reason in particular, I ask the oldest one if she would like to return the truck to its owner. She seems slightly puzzled. I tell her how he only lives about a block away. We talk in a friendly manner for a short time, but I decide to return it myself.

I start to roll forward down a slope (a common VSC factor in dreams since early childhood) without driving, but I maintain control of direction with the steering wheel (and non-lucid dream control of VSC). I feel good. The street illogically becomes part of a big warehouse.

As the vehicle rolls into the big warehouse and turns to the left, I see that the street turns off ahead to the right at about ninety degrees, but an internal warehouse wall blocks the view of it.

I hear a loud roar, reminiscent of that of the MGM lion. A strange vehicle approaches from the opposite direction. It resembles a steam shovel without the cab and with the boom mostly vertical. It seems to be on a rolling platform. I get the impression of rails guiding its direction. The small bucket may serve as its “head.” Its “face” is blank and dark, reminding me of the essence of a television that is not on.

As it continues to move towards me, I realize the truck I am in no longer has a roof. It now seems like a military jeep. I have no fear at all (even though I am only liminally becoming lucid) and look forward to jumping up, grabbing, and crushing this “creature,” (as soon as it lowers closer to me) which may be a robotic maintenance vehicle for the warehouse, but instead, I spontaneously wake before it arcs down.

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VSC personification as the unknown older woman but then choosing to initiate the transition myself was almost like ad-libbing. It even felt as if I was randomly doing such as part of a self-directed stage play. Perceiving the emerging consciousness factor (though still dominated by RAS) as an “empty” television (as in my “Kingdom” novella of 1990) may stem from recently watching more television than I have in years, though still not as much as many other people. I have not perceived television as a “monster” since before I met Zsuzsanna, though even so, I held no fear here, only the desire to crunch the machine, with a sense of certain (automatic) victory.

A warehouse serves as a representation of leaving the liminal space of the dream state, typically the last setting of a dream.

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From January 15, 1964. Wednesday.



This is an old recurring dream from around ages three to four.

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I am in a large old house with two floors and a large staircase. Some of the design is based on mahogany constructs or veneer at least. There is a familiar smell, somewhat like cinnamon at times, but later, a lot like that seemingly old but strong unusual wood scent (and for me, very nostalgic) that I used to smell when walking by certain old apartment buildings that had a wooden staircase and with an entrance door open to the public at street level. I only know of two locations in real life where I had caught that special scent in such a perfect way - one of them being the Rose Street apartments - which no longer exist, the other being in an area I only walked by a few times in another part of town.

The house is possibly partly based on Evelyn W’s house in real life (on Tenth Street in La Crosse) which was a place I visited as a young child and picked out “Little Red Feather” (which I have included details about in other entries) to keep, as I was given a choice to take one of the toys inside the large “toy box” (actually a large laundry basket) as my own and I chose a red plastic Native American figure in a kneeling position. I should point out that my wife Zsuzsanna had an imaginary friend called “Little Red Feather” (also as a child) long before we met, which is of course, only one of hundreds of very precise and incredible meaningful “coincidences”.

In my dream, an unknown dark-haired and green-eyed lady comes to the house to give me a toy steam shovel. I am not sure why; I do not think it is for my birthday or for Christmas.

Not much happens in my dream, though there is somewhat of a sense of being isolated at times. I sense the woman is “for” me but I will have to grow up and wait a long time before we meet (and she does not remind me at all of my mother in my dream, who I never saw at this younger age anyway). I remember standing around in the semidarkness at one point, wondering when she would return.

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It seems my wife-to-be (who was not even born yet) is somehow already in my path (or at least the detailed essence as such). There was no question on the appearance. She gave me the steam shovel “to dig or build my path to her”.