Blue_Opossum

Morning of September 28, 2017. Thursday.



I am in a state of semi-lucidity, slowly becoming aware that our bedroom is transmuting into the northeast bedroom of the Loomis Street house (a place I have not been in real life for over twenty years and unlikely to ever be again). I eventually focus upon the essence of sleep, which in the dream state, is symbolized by water and recognized as such (and has been for over fifty years on a day to day basis). Water begins to flow down Loomis Street from the north. It is a flood, but not a threatening flood. I feel very relaxed and peaceful. I vividly feel small splashes of water reaching me through the window screen, which vivifies my level of dream state awareness.

There is some sort of unusual ambiguous imagery just outside the window. It relates to a child in pajamas holding a teddy bear, but is viewed through the screen as an undersized silhouette. Conscious self identity threads are lessened and I am no longer lucid in any way regardless of the increase in vividness. I have no major concern about flood waters flowing into the house, only that some of my dream journals might become damp.

I wander off to the west bedroom where my mother (July 14, 1916-October 2, 2002) is sitting on her bed. In this dream, at this point, I have no memory at all of my older sister Marilyn (April 25, 1942-Februay 13, 2014) whose house it mainly was.

“Someone left the floodgates open,” I tell my mother somewhat absentmindedly (forgetting that it was me who initiated and released this dream’s content and continuity with deliberate water induction and the original focus on release and blissful relaxation). Although it seemed late at night seconds previously, it now seems to be afternoon as I notice daylight through the window of her room. However, the area beyond the backyard and alley is completely different than in reality as there is no shed visible and no residential homes. All that is visible are some commercial buildings in the distance, about two blocks away.

My mother makes some sort of comment about access to the store being blocked by flood waters, and there is some sort of vague association with the checkout of a store (a common end marker of the dream state for me). Upon having this semi-lucid thought, and remembering more about my present conscious self and the fact that I am married and have children, I slowly fade from the dream state with soft (semi-lucid) intent and a very soft awakening.

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Water, including non-threatening floods as a dream state induction factor, has occurred continuously all my life, long before virtually endless meditation and relaxation recordings utilized the sound of water to bring about relaxation or sleep. I will hear or otherwise perceive water as soon as I enter into a more relaxed state with less emotions present. Water as the primary symbol for sleep (and sleep dynamics in real time) is also analogous to how people spend the first months of their existence sleeping in the waters of the womb. As a result, it is probably my most common dream foundation marker.

My mother has, in more recent dreams, become more of a dream state end marker loosely associated with my wife Zsuzsanna than more direct associations with her as in the past. This is evidenced by her mainly appearing in the last scene of a dream where she is sitting on her bed (residual recall of having fallen asleep). Although Zsuzsanna appears in many of my dreams (where more of my present conscious self identity remains at least partially intact), the association with her also being a mother has, over time, altered dream state markers in some cases. However, despite Zsuzsanna having been a mother for a number of years, this symbolic transfer and marker integration is fairly recent (probably because she is now nearer my mother’s age when I was born). Being more of an emergent consciousness precursor than a preconscious factor, there is no conflict in such dreams, especially in already subliminally acknowledging this waking mechanism. (My mother was the one who usually woke me up throughout my childhood.)

Both watching the non-threatening flood waters flow and the silhouette of the boy in pajamas with the teddy bear represent the same thing…sleep, so this is a type of parallel symbolism that my dreams often render. (Someone being in pajamas was far less of an initiation factor even in early childhood, even being a fan of “Little Nemo”, though other dream state indicators such as beds and pillows are quite common.)

Even though a shadow of a person or a silhouette represents the lesser presence of my conscious self identity, it is slightly puzzling here as viewed through a window screen. This is because focus on a window screen has been validated to relate to some form of transpersonal communication or shared dreaming. Ordinarily, at least in lucid dreams, I sometimes indulge in “shadow play”; that is, I “test” the shadow to verify that it is actually my conscious self identity and it always is, even in a dream where it was very far away and standing on a bridge.

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Night of April 28, 2017. Friday.



I am in a distorted liminal state of semi-lucidity, yet it is not active enough to have viable memory, including historical knowledge, though I am mostly aware of my present life status and conscious self identity. There is a couch in a fictionally-placed location that faces the foot of our bed (west), though this is more like typical bilocation as it seems to be a different house partially integrated into ours (and with the common dream perception of being in two places at once).

Abraham Lincoln is sleeping on the couch in the semidarkness a few hours before dawn, his head to the north. He is dressed in a suit and mostly on his back but partly on his right side. I find myself picking up a teddy bear and feel that I should give it to him, but I do not want to wake him. I seem to recall that he always sleeps with a teddy bear (though this is fallacy as teddy bears did not exist in Lincoln’s time). He remains sleeping. I have no awareness that he had been a president or that he is deceased though I also do not see him as an imposer.

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Of the fifty solid years I have closely studied dreams, Abraham Lincoln has only directly appeared in a few of them, always as the (potential) emergent consciousness precursor symbol but never as the actual emergent consciousness factor. This may be because I (subliminally) do not believe my conscious self identity could “fill his shoes” so to speak.

In one of my last Lincoln dreams in 2014, the personified preconscious, as a young female, kept saying “Lincoln lied about that”, lastly saying “Lincoln smiled…” and again followed by “Lincoln lied about that” (which may or may not be a dream sign as a play on lying down).

Basically, this is a second-level “threshold” type due to the fact that the “doorway” was not literal but still directly implied as being between where my wife Zsuzsanna and I were sleeping (in reality) and the other room (our kitchen in real life but somewhat featureless and undefined in my dream). It is possible that the emergent consciousness precursor did not activate simply because I was near the beginning of the sleep cycle rather than coming out of it.

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Morning of August 14, 2015. Friday.



My dream starts in an unknown building which seems to be a two-storey halfway house for both troubled and homeless youths and adult recovering alcoholics. Richard B (have not seen him in over twenty years) is leaning out a window on the second floor and hammering nails into the outside of that window frame for weatherization and is being filmed for some sort of instructional video. (I am not sure why he is doing it from the inside rather than having a ladder set up on the outside; it would be more feasible, and in fact, to complete the job would be impossible from the inside.) I clean up a room fairly quickly and there is also some painting of at least one room going on.

At one point, I am lying on a mattress in a large room. I get the impression that my mother (deceased) has kept me awake all night from moving potted plants around and doing other things (such as preparing business letters), which is problematic, as I am too tired to get up and go to some sort of school event or other scheduled meeting (though I am aware it is near the last day of school). However, I am also aware that my going to this event is not necessary or I may be wrong with what I am thinking as I may not have to go after all.

Later, I seem to be about twenty years old or younger and am in a room where the house mother (a male that seems to be my foreman from my old Ford Taurus manufacturing job) is writing on a chalkboard. (A “house mother” is typically a strong stocky male that oversees a halfway house.) He has written on the chalkboard (in cursive handwriting) a message concerning about seven or eight new tenants. I read the writing and note that it starts with “Let us all welcome the new tenants, two of whom are from the Karaoke and Lansing tribes” and this is followed by about seven or eight surnames including mine being about the fourth one. I do not sharpen my focus to read all of it, so it is probably not relevant to remote viewing (although the term “Karaoke tribe” actually does exist, oddly enough - which is apparently a group of people who go around singing in various venues and based in La Mirada, California, which I had not known of previously).

Later, I am in the same room, but only one other tenant is present other than the house mother. I say fairly loudly and clearly, “I am going to test if this is a dream.” The two others do not seem to mind. I focus and, while standing, lift both my knees up and hover in the air, rising to the ceiling in eventually a standing position. “Well, it looks like this is a dream,” I say casually, and the two others nod, smile, and agree.

From here, we all fly out from the building through a window on the second floor. However, I fly too close to the building and bang the right side of my head on the eaves. It does not hurt that much, but I feel a strange vibration, like my head is a bell and has just been rung. I note that the others have flown off elsewhere.

When I fly around, I am astounded by the beauty and clear detail of the fictional setting. I then start to think, well, it is time for an outdoor romantic interlude. I fly down near an area where I notice a younger version of my wife in a turquoise bikini, though there are two young males around that may be her younger brothers, though they do not seem familiar otherwise (in other words, not resembling any of her real brothers). An older chubby lady keeps coming out of the house and going back in (and Zsuzsanna does a couple times as well). I am not sure why my wife is seemingly living here at the time. The lady reminds me of a young version of Clara Peller (from the “where’s the beef?” commercials). Eventually, I take my wife behind a shoulder-high hedge that runs parallel to the house’s property line on the right side of it, but annoyingly, the other three people keep coming out and randomly walking around the hedge. I try to shoo them away, but eventually give up and just do what I had intended. Briefly, my wife seems to transform into a part of the hedge and back again which seems a bit strange, but I do not focus on it, and I fly off again shortly after fulfillment (which is quite visual).

From here, I explore another building with amazing clear details, seemingly on the second floor again. I walk by a room that has a low table (about knee-high) that has an image with a teddy bear on it (and there are many other clear details). It looks painted or like a very large decal. The image is quite complex and I am almost certain in afterthought that it is the print of a postage stamp (though I could not find any image close to it anywhere). The teddy bear is in a sailor suit (blue with thinner white stripes) and there is a lot of blue and beige in the image including a beige border. It is sitting near other toys, including a pull-toy of a duck. Exploring other rooms, the visual clarity is almost overwhelming. (My wife reminded me of a cross-stitch design she did similar to the image that was on the table.)

After all of this vivid imagery and flying around and sensual movement and sharpening my focus at least four times throughout my longer dream (with a strange concern about my in-dream breathing at one point, where I have to stop and catch my breath a couple times), I decide to let it go, as my head is starting to feel a bit in “overdrive” and I wake immediately.

Morning of June 6, 2010. Sunday.

Dream #: 15,875-07. Reading time: 20 sec.



I am in the lounge room of our present home in the evening. I am aware a stranger is in our house and had been in our kitchen and opened our refrigerator. When I am in bed, I notice Mr. Bean (Rowan Atkinson) had fallen asleep on our couch, holding a teddy bear. I am annoyed by the imposition. (The couch is in the wrong orientation. It faces south instead of north.) I consider it may be someone pretending to be Mr. Bean (though I remain uncertain).

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