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Morning of March 15, 2015. Sunday.



Although I feel somewhat as I do in reality with regard to some aspects of my dream journalism, I seem to be living back in the small squarish room on Loomis Street. There is a desk and large typewriter set up in the southeast corner. I am not quite sure of the dynamics of my living arrangement although I am at least somewhat aware of my present real-life status, including my wife and family, but am not lucid in any way. There is also no association with my relatives or older sister whose house it actually is in reality. The manual typewriter is about three times as high as the portable manual one I used to use in reality (mostly in Florida) and is a much older model; probably an Underwood from the 1920s.

I am aware of writing out at least three dreams in the typed summary format I used to do on plain white paper back when around ages eleven to seventeen (in addition to the far more detailed handwritten entries where I actually fit four lines of printed writing between two lines of notebook paper as well as usage of the additional miniature black binder for the index). (However, also in reality, there was a point where my mother had bought me a very large gold-colored box of expensive white paper which also featured a large watermark on each sheet, which seemed a bit odd to me, as it was just slightly too noticeable - almost like undesirable oil marks, thus I preferred the cheaper paper, though still used the other.)

As I am working and organizing a few things, an unknown younger female (about twenty) is in the room. I have no idea who she is or where she came from. She is dressed in old-fashioned clothes. She goes to my typewriter and takes all the blank paper I have left from the box. I complain about this but she eventually leaves the room, and heads out the back door. The stack of paper she takes is about an inch or more high.

When I go outside (in what would otherwise be the residential backyard on Loomis Street) it seems to suddenly be in the 1800s and it seems to be a farming community for the most part, though some generic wooden buildings flow off to my right to the horizon (like something out of “Gunsmoke”). I find myself calling the female insane (mostly only after the people do not respond to my reporting her as stealing from me) and that something has to be done. No one else believes she is a thief or has any issues even though it is clear that she does. I tell an older (unknown) male that the responsibility falls on him whenever she gets up to more mischief (there is a vague association with Salem possibly regarding the late 1600s though that is not very defined). They seem to not know what I am talking about at all yet I still rant on and on until I wake up. I do not know where the “paper thief” went; I only see different people at this point, mostly on the right of my perspective with the male I am yelling at to my left. Curiously, the idea that I have apparently traveled back in time does not even dawn on me in-dream at the time.

Morning of March 15, 2015. Sunday.

Dream #: 17,618-02. Reading time: 1 min 12 sec.



My family and I (as we appear now) are living in the Clayfield apartment, though there are no other buildings around (as in reality), only a big featureless field. It seems to be late afternoon. I watch a small airplane flying overhead, viewing it from the window of our main bedroom. Zsuzsanna and our children are not around at this time.

As an unknown female of about twenty years of age is walking westerly across the field in the opposite direction of our apartment, a Cessna nosedives, crashing behind her, though there is not much noise. Although it had not hit her, she is seen lying on the ground needing to be pulled away from the area by an older unknown male. I do not perceive that she is physically injured, she only has mild shock. The crashed Cessna remains in a diagonal position, with several small pieces on each side of it.

I suddenly find myself in the area of the event when I had only been watching it from a distance from our bedroom window. An unfamiliar man asks me about it. There are a few unknown people present. There is no mention of the pilot, but I am not aware of one being present, alive or dead. I absentmindedly claim that the airplane stalled because he was flying it straight up. (I say this about four times to different people.) I describe how the same accident had recently occurred three times, involving Cessnas with identical appearances. However, I do not recall seeing any previous event like this.

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This dream is a typical projected vestibular system correlation event, one of the most common waking processes, usually unrelated to waking life. It is an association with resolving the imaginary physicality of the dream state. The process often renders falling, flying, and rising events.

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Morning of March 15, 2015. Sunday.



In my dream, my family and I seem to be living where we are now on W Street though the house seems connected to the neighbor’s house as if part of some sort of large apartment complex and at least some of the layout (such as the kitchen) is rotated perpendicularly in the direction of the other house (though our bathroom is rotated one-hundred-eighty degrees around so that it is on the east end of our residence). There is a large but shared lobby towards the north rather than a porch of any kind. Our entrance faces north; the neighbor’s entrance faces west. (This layout somewhat mimics the porch in reality, as our main door faces north and the computer room has an external door that faces west onto our porch. The in-dream lobby however is at least five times the size of the real porch.)

My dream’s setting is later at night. I hear some noise outside and when I look out the window, I see two large flatbed trucks and a car, all of which are faced north and parked on our side of the street, the car being the first vehicle in the row. The two flatbeds are stacked with at least four levels of wooden chairs (and nothing else), though quite randomly at various scattered angles. The car also has chairs randomly strewn inside the back.

Later, I hear hammering coming from the other apartment. At one point I look out into the fictional lobby and see an older male and female, who have a large dog, carrying a couple chairs into their place. Apparently, every single chair has to be hammered upon here and there to fix it up for their new home. I mention that they are okay in doing this as my wife and I had been listening to hammering on and off for over fifty-two weeks. There is a bit of sarcasm in my voice which I do not think they catch. Being that we only share the empty lobby with the new neighbors, this dream is atypical of similar shared dwelling dreams where there is more integration and consequently more annoyances.

Later, my wife is in the bathtub and I think she is annoyed by the new neighbor situation. (In reality, the number of wooden chairs that were in the vehicles would not even have fit in the small house next door.) During the last part of my dream, I hug each member of my family for quite some time and feel a strong sense of love and hope. The positive energy dominates the rest of my dream.

Hugging, and its extraordinarily realistic feel of weight and pressure and enhanced sense of touch in general (including a sincere sense of compassion and respect), has occurred in my dreams since earliest memory.

Afraid to Call
SB is standing up from the table and pulling out her cellphone when a cop drives by outside. She puts the phone away hurriedly, expressing the fear that she might be arrested. We argue with her, "How could you be arrested for making a cellphone call in your own house? Come on, what would the charges be?" But we can't talk her out of it and she, still anxious, goes to bed. After she has left the room, I ask the others, "Is this normal?" meaning, does she act like this all the time? They indicate to me with their eyes and subtle nods that it is.

Note: It's odd, this is a friend I haven't talked to in a couple years, and after I dreamed this last night, today I got an email from her...

Turquoise Bob
Look in the mirror, see that my hair is cut in a turquoise bob. It looks surprisingly good; I think I might keep it this way. It will be annoying to have to get it trimmed all the time, but I should make an effort. Should I get the color done professionally or do it myself? Decide on the latter, that's how I've always done it. Look online to find the color. How to get the hued variegated like this? Figure I need to bleach it white first, then can selectively coat parts of it with vaseline.

Bus to Sabaville
In some vast interior space, need to get back home. Find a shuttle that I think will take me toward where I saw the bus stop, but then it goes too far and in the wrong direction. I discover it is heading to a stoner convention. As everyone stands up to disembark, young man in seat in front of me (hefty, dark hair, pale skin) stares at me and asks out of nowhere: "Who are you?"

I stare back, perplexed. "Why would you ask me that? We've never met before. How could it matter who I am? I'm a stranger, on a bus."

My answer seems to have disoriented him. "Am I dead?"

Sarcastically, I respond, "Could be. It happens sometimes." I leave, going in a different direction from the others disembarking the bus.

Awed by the sheer size of this place. Don't see any internal columns or supports... what is keeping the roof up? Must be miles across. Find the stop to take the shuttle back in the other direction. Young woman there, think I've seen her before.

"Can you tell me if this place has a bus that can take me back to Sabaville?" I inquire.

"That's not where you should be spending your time." I assume she means that it's not a very cool place to live.

"Well, it's where I need to get back to."

It was dream. I was in the city. I found lost friend, she was unhappy. We went to restaurant and talked and drinked tea. I felt somewhat happy, but also confused and uncertain. I remember only these few pieces of quite long dream.

There were three people on a metal cart with shelves. I'm saying the substance in a container is having a chemical reaction as it is bubbling over and I set it on the shelf of the cart. All of a sudden, the whole things explodes and the three people (I think one was just a head!) are electrocuted and then all of them catch on fire. I watch but know there's nothing I can do. I'm not even that upset. There are white (like Christmas) lights strung all over the place and all kinds of extension cords and wires and I unplug most of them for safety. (LOL) I them leave them and head upstairs. CRAZY!

I notice another part of the scene I was in change. I found my self in Father room waking up however a part of the room look different. Though this change was familar to me and I soon recalled I've been here in a lucid dream before. My brother who I now notice ask I have? That means I'm dreaming right now. My brother said we are? I said yea are you aware?, my brother seem shock that we're both were lucid. Stay calm I told him. My brother said lets go through the window as he made an attempt to slide pass it.

It didn't work and he was push back. I told him it will take a bit more experience to accomplish that. Also the confusion may make you lose lucidity. I suggest it's better we take the back door. That's when we both agreed and left father room and enter the living room. I told my brother to watch what I'll do next. Saying that I'll make the lights switch work in the dream and that's when the real fun begins. My brother watch as I cause a dim blue light through apart of the house.

Shall we go outside I ask my brother? My brother decline saying he wanted to see more of what could happen inside the house. That's when someone at the door open it. It was a woman that resemble an anime character. I told my brother look they are really here. I jog and quickly approach her. I then greet and welcome them inside. I then pointed my finger saying hey it's another anime character outside. My brother said really? I waited for him to come and see.

We both saw a man with a huge sword knocking on near by peoples houses. I then told my brother we should go outside, there's a lot of things that happen out here. It was night as we begin to walk the streets. I however lost lucidity a long the way. Lucidity Time: 6 minutes