Blue_Opossum

Morning of November 14, 2018. Wednesday.

Dream #: 18,958-02. Reading time (optimized): 3 min. Readability score: 58.



In a previous dream including my conscious self’s identity and to some extent in real life, I had been building a more extensive paradigm understructure for my online dream journal as a way to make it more idiot-proof, despite there being virtually no evidence that mainstream humanity has any understanding of the induction, dreaming, and waking processes. I had been focusing on “personifications of” while branching into more specific factors of vestibular system correlation, nexus simulacrums, and melatonin mediation. During this time, my dream self loses most of its present waking life identity while still holding a subliminal awareness of concurrent physicality and a minimal degree of lucid dream state awareness to where only a sliver of my conscious self’s identity remains extant; just enough to deliberately enter the role of another denizen to experiment with the dream space.

The backstory of an upcoming wedding comes to the forefront. It is a transpersonal thread adjacent to the virtual foreshore. There is the sighting of an unknown groom of about twenty-five in my incorporeal glimpse. I possess the body of a man who is about eighty years old to sustain his role in attaining a sacred stick from a secret area for the unknown young groom (who remains in another part of town), maintaining faith that any other sentient presence in the dream space will not detect me as an imposter. The interconsciousness borrows pieces of a setting that I had not lived in real life for years, making sure it is incorrect in design so that it is not mistaken for having waking life relevance or the fallacy of symbolism that the unintelligent pursue. I am at an erroneous version of the Stadcor Street house in Brisbane. This version of the house has an enclosed wooden back porch, which expands over the area that the utility room was in real life (though the utility room was at ground level). Another male, unknown, about the age of the man whose body I possess, is with me, remaining on my left (dream attention orientation, as I sleep on my left side). I do not see the house as a place of significance, and my dream self only vaguely realizes that it is an illusory model of a place I had once lived. There is little of my conscious self identity that remains extant.

We are to meet with a man who is over a hundred years old, known only as General. Another man who is about a hundred years old arrives first. The four of us briefly appraise each other. I marvel at how wrinkled their faces are. I nod to General, addressing him solely and lightly with “General.” He does not seem to suspect I am not the old man. I feel comfortable in my fictitious role. He had stepped from a back room of the house, perhaps the kitchen in assuming that this fake house was somewhat like the original. The other man had come in from outside. My dream self’s attention does not focus on the porch setting as the nexus within liminal space; that virtual bridge which I had entered thousands of times in previous dreams since early childhood. Despite “General” being a military association with the preconscious and interconsciousness simulacra, I do not anticipate dominance by their presence. We go out into the backyard. It seems to be late morning. I am holding a large irregular stick in my left hand.

We all have walking sticks, but the groom’s sacred stick is just beyond the backyard in a cluster of trees. In reality, this would have been our neighbor’s backyard, which was divided from ours by a small fence.

As I am walking, the other end of my stick, still being used with my left hand, somehow gets stuck between two small cages (the bottom of one and the top of the other). I am not sure if they contain any animals. A big cloth is covering them. It takes me a few minutes to pull it out. The man who had been with me, the first one, seems slightly annoyed and moves to help me, but the stick is already out.

Liminal awareness had established that I was sleeping on my left arm in an uncomfortable position, which became a factor of my dream’s scenario, altering its potential. My dream self absentmindedly points this out, with the stick, where my essence is, beneath the cloth (bed sheet) and asleep, my waking self “caged” within the virtual lattice of physicality.

---

Night of November 29, 1968. Friday.



This (in quotes) is the original title and has remained so. I had entitled this as such due to there already being a story I was familiar with called “The Grasshopper and the Ants” (However, the Wikipedia entry is entitled “The Ant and the Grasshopper” - a variation I had never heard of before). This dream was one of many at a very early age that was very vivid and unforgettable in scenery and “momentum”. I am not even “in” this one. It is more like I am floating and viewing things in another world.

In my dream, there is a young female ant named Susanna (a variation of my wife Zsuzsanna’s name interestingly enough but pronounced without the “zhu” and “zha” sound although I did originally call her Susanna at times), possibly influenced by the Stephen Foster song “Oh! Susanna“. In that song, there is the line “The sun so hot I froze to death” and the grasshopper in the original story will supposedly starve in the winter or possibly freeze to death.

I have accepted the precognitive implications for four reasons; the bride’s name being Susanna, my wife being petite (thus much smaller than I), and the nature of our mixed marriage. She also has more than three younger brothers. Also, the building in this dream was similar to the one I first stayed at with my wife - even called Clarence (my middle name) House. There is also the association with “clodhopper” and “grasshopper” as detailed below. Though I was not certain of the grasshopper’s name, there was a vague association with Marco Polo.

This was a long dream, but I only summarized the main scenes originally. It involves the female ant being “courted” romantically and secretly in a “jungle” - or rather, an area with more grass and stones and such, a fair distance from her home. The female ant’s younger brothers were like composites of three Hot Stuffs and Huey, Dewey, and Louie - but with ant-like features. The scenes were not that cartoon-like at times, but rather like an animated painting. The ants seem to live in a scaled-down condominium rather than an anthill though, so it is kind of funny. There was also some sort of implied practical joke routine related to “condominium pandemonium”. I was not even quite sure what the words meant. I do not think I heard this exact term in real life, or maybe it had been a newspaper headline or some such.

Her rather mean-looking brothers do not want her involved with the grasshopper or any chance for a “mixed marriage” (which is rather a self-fulfilling prophecy, I suppose, as I have been technically in a mixed marriage all these years - even though one man, a Jehovah’s Witness, thought we were brother and sister).

The main, most vivid scene has an interesting meeting between the female ant and the male grasshopper (and note the play on my first name of Claude - I was actually called “Clodhopper” in real life for a short time by at least two classmates as well as “Kadiddlehopper” - from Red Skelton’s fictional comedic character Clem Kadiddlehopper).

I can sense or hear romantic music playing. The grasshopper offers his love a rose. She accepts it but says “Thank you, but I like dandelions much better” in the voice of a (unknown) human female. There is not much drama after this. I am not certain what happens, but I do know the three brothers will be bothersome to both their ant sister and their grasshopper brother-in-law.

The real-life joke has a couple variations, but only one relevant to the reversal of the romantic scene from my dream. A teacher asks a child what her favorite flower is and she says “dandelion” (or “chrysanthemum”). The teacher asks “Can you spell that?” and the child says, “Actually, I like roses much better”.

Night of April 9, 1971. Friday.



Brenda W, a female classmate and friend (who lived just north of me but on the other side of Highway Seventeen in real life), also often playing a role within the main “mystery girl” composite or “wife-to-be stand-in” - is visiting my home in Cubitis. It seems to be morning, around nine o’clock. Her father is there as well as my father, I think (and perhaps both of our mothers in another area). We are all in my father’s original old room near the southern end of the room close to the windows and more towards the door, I being the only one sitting on the floor. Everyone else is at a table. I talk to her father (who is closest to me, sitting in a chair) about marrying her and he eventually asks me if he can look at my toy plastic army tank. When he looks at it, he accidentally but clumsily breaks the turret off. It is ruined, but I do not show my own anger as I do not want him being angry about his own carelessness by my acknowledgment of it - or perhaps he did it on purpose (this is not certain) - in which case an unpleasant confrontation would ensue. (This is probably a representation of the “defeat” or lack of readiness of my boyish masculine energies by her father - an obvious sort of symbolic “breaking or denial of manhood” or the male member, I suppose.)

There is another scene where either Brenda or the “mystery girl” (as I only see her in shadowy silhouette for the most part) and I are on a hilltop, either in late afternoon or early evening just as the sun is going down. There is a similar awareness of the animation from “Song of the South” (from 1946). Leaves and flower petals are blowing around us in spirals. It is a very positive feeling. It almost seems like a wedding scene. My real wedding years later was on April 9, which was indeed to the “mystery girl”. Last year on this date (April 9, 1970) was also a marriage-related dream. (On a side note, when I married in real life, there were leaves and petals blowing around in a wind during a mild storm though we were under a shelter in Hervey Bay and the storm stopped immediately after the wedding, which can be seen on the video we have).

It seems that the toy tank scene of this dream set was partly influenced by an episode of “The Partridge Family”. I was ten and so was Danny Bonaduce on the show. He was mistakenly drafted into the army on this episode by an “infallible” army computer and his mother took him to the induction center and he even goes through the tests because they do not “really” look at him.

As I carefully go over thousands of heavily documented dreams, I am noticing two things a bit more; one being far more subtle television influence than I originally thought (which seems odd considering the level of synchronicity and even common precognitive associations), and yet two - there being far more unexplainable connections than even I originally thought.

Morning of April 7, 1971. Wednesday.



In real life I had shown a young female teacher, after class, my “How and Why Wonder Book of the Moon”. When she asked “Can I have this?” I thought she meant that she wanted to borrow it for a short time for another class so I said “yes”. Unfortunately, I never saw the book again (so I guess she thought it was a gift). I did not ask her about it and I did not tell either of my parents about the event. (I did have most of the “How and Why Wonder Books” of the time period). I was not angry. I just felt rather strange about the situation. I thought perhaps that I would get it back at the end of the school year but did not. I was always quite passive in the presence of public authority, not because I liked, “appreciated”, or trusted authority in any way - in fact, it was the opposite and I was passive because I saw most such people as unpredictable, unintelligent, and unaware (and likely dangerous at the drop of a hat) except for perhaps a few teachers during my school years, but even then, I strongly sensed their shortcomings and overall incompetence given the circumstances, which often frustrated me but I remained quiet.

During this time, I thought of the book being returned on “Moon Day”. I had “worked out” that this was the day relating to the moon and had a false memory that the moon was always full on a Monday.

The main in-dream theme that recurred here for a few weeks was the idea that people only got married on Wednesdays. It became “Wedding Day”, the “long form” of “Wed Day”. In reality, I never did learn how to “mentally say” Wednesday. If I do attempt to actually think of Wednesday as Wednesday, it comes out wrong due to the bizarre and atypical spelling of the word. This stems from earlier years where I never once said (mentally) anything other than WED NEZ DAY. This is why I so quickly learned to spell it (even over incorrectly spelling “what” as “hwat”, “when” as “hwen”, and so on when four years old). To this day, I mentally think “Wed nez day” when I want to write it, knowing the “z” is actually an “s” and then write Wednesday…I wonder if other people do this.