11-14 Dream: In courtyard in front of apartment. Out there with F. We have clothes, our keys, etc. all laid out over trees and tree branches. We just came back from somewhere/are going somehwere? ... I'm in the same place but farther back towards the parking lot (the dimensions have changed, there is a stone cove with a fire pit to the right of us, and we're facing a grassy field and our row of apartments ahead). F now looks like someone else, and a character representing her friend J is also present. We are folding up some (pool?) umbrellas, and as J folds the last umbrellas we can see through the mesh a family of bears right in front of us! Their ears are very strange, sort of like a cocker spaniel's ears but straight up and down. They look angry but we try to maneuver very slowly so that they don't attack -- very intense fear in the moment. They start to come forward then retreat back towards the apartment in the grass. I think at this point my character was dissolved and I was relegated to observer to the F and J avatars. I watched as they made a run for it, J started kicking one of them, who all of the sudden had those kickboxing targets strapped to his hands to catch her kicks? And then ran away leaving F standing there. In the dream, I was really anry at J for leaving F there with the bears. I think this expectation/intense emothion ocmbo made one of the bears strike out at F, and she dramatically fell down, which increased emotion. ... I'm on the sidewalk, my character has returned, I'm fighting with F (maybe J?) and she walks inside a sliding glass door (not ours) and I spit on a postcard (???) Dream: High school band/in theatre/band parents watching as band, kids, dance team perform a really bad routine to a song -- what song?/we raise our hands in a temple shape on cue in waves/everyone does it very poorly, Mr. D walks out/outside in hall/stairs talk to L Dream: White marble stairs/Din. Moby Dick and church discussion/T from loose drawing to rl/dom Dream: Blue juice/dad presents/appliance(?)/leftovers(indian or bbq ramen rice)/dogs and stitch bunny w/ nose fur Frag: Tubes challenge/tents?/fluid/miniature woman -- linked to above? Dream: Had an FA, then woke for real. Almost DEILD'd but really wanted to remember the previous dreams. Dream: (Conan) I'm in a squareish room with dim blue light. I'm naked and just received a large orange banner with some tribal-looking decorations and a bird design throughout. Had a conversation with myself about birds in designs (it's cheating?). The fabric is warm as I unfold it and inspect the design. I drape it around myself and feel it being very warm on my dream body (temperature in dreams - good development). There's a mirror across the way, so I drape the banner around me like a cape and start miming sword fighting like Conan the barbarian as depicted by Frank Frazetta. As I strike my arms out each time, I hit the fabric hard, because it's moving/flowing at a slower timescale than me. My stomach looked far too concave in the mirror, almost hollow, like a bad sculpture. Notes: I'm putting ... just to indicate that there was either a scene transition, or something did happen here and I just forgot it.
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.
So many dreams about Turkey. Here is another one. I'm underground with some others. Going to a bridge. Come to a bridge base which is underground. I tell the other person, that some bridges allow you to climb and walk over the top of it, like the one in Sydney. This one had a steep incline and I was thinking we gonna slide off. But the surface was bumpy, and another person showed me how we are not going to slide down, when he slid down on purpose, but stopped by itself. We got up and others were already waiting. A simple wooden door. I knew Istanbul is behind it. The door opened and it was raining. I had a feeling that it was some kind of a portal, because where we were standing, we were not in Turkey. I asked others if any of them visited Istanbul before and few of them raised there hands. They agreed with me, how beautiful the city is, and I was happy I will be able to show the others, be their guide. As we crossed the door, it was night. I was telling them that when we get to a city square, there were be a soldier in ceremonial dress and he is super nice and friendly. There were other things we were going to look at.
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