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    Blue_Opossum

    1. Punching Arnold Schwarzenegger in a Library (plus meanings)

      by , 10-12-2021 at 09:55 AM
      Morning of February 5, 2020. Wednesday.

      Dream #: 19,406-02. Optimized 2 minute read.




      I have a turntable set up in a featureless, unknown location as part of a large console to use commercial music sections in new mixes.

      I become annoyed because, although the music is playing through my headphones, it is also blaring through the speakers, and I do not want to annoy other people in the room. There may be a short or a loose jack. I stuff tissue paper in one input.

      The setting changes. I am in an unfamiliar library. Many other people are here. I now only have a turntable on the floor near a bookcase. Although I am still thinking about mixing music, I notice a group of interesting little books on a shelf.

      They remind me of the vintage Little Blue Books (Haldeman-Julius Publishing Company) I once had, but they seem to be a periodical as there are issue numbers on them, published each week since the 1900s. I read some of the content. On one back page, a couple of sentences are curiously at an angle, overlapping others. I can still read the content regarding 1930s women’s fashion. There are many pages featuring crafts. Two unfamiliar boys intend to sit down while they face the bookcase. They accidentally stumble onto my turntable. I shout at them after they fall and again when I see a crack in the middle of the tonearm. (It is flat and made of cream-colored plastic). I believe they should pay for a new tonearm. A bystander watches me.

      Arnold Schwarzenegger approaches. He commands me to stop yelling at the boys. I spontaneously punch him, and he goes flying backward, all the way to the other side of the library. He transforms into a shoddy black and blue plastic robot that seems like an oversized hollow toy, with limbs that are flat in profile and somewhat skeletal. It lands on its head near a bookcase.

      If you are knowledgeable about dreams, you know that arm swinging is a spontaneous physiological stimulus for emergence from REM atonia (physical immobility while sleeping). Protoconsciousness (here as Arnold Schwarzenegger) induces this response. There is a correlation with the cracked “tonearm,” cleverly directing me to gain muscle tonality and arm mobility for waking.

      My dream’s cerebral phasing stage (seeking and reading text) included vestibular phasing ambiguity (the illogical angles of the superimposed sentences revealing a conflict between my imaginary vertical orientation in my dream and my body’s horizontal position while sleeping).

      Arnold Schwarzenegger becomes an unrealistic robot as in 1984’s movie “The Terminator.” Movie influence is often predominant in my dreams more than associations with real life. Protoconsciousness often personifies as either a celebrity or an unfamiliar person to block associations with waking life from a personal level. The robot’s infeasibility correlates with REM atonia. (Dolls or statues are other indicators of this type of metacognitive awareness.)

      The robot’s colors are an incidental correlation with the phrase “beaten black and blue.”

      Stuffing tissue paper into one input correlates with putting tissue paper in one’s ear to block sound while sleeping.

    2. A Fascinating “War” without Real War

      by , 09-24-2021 at 05:33 PM
      Morning of September 24, 2021. Friday.

      Dream #: 20,003-02. 2 min 54 sec read.




      Late at night, I watch sparkling silver cursive text (as if covered with glitter) move smoothly through the sky from right to left. I am on the front porch of a fictitious version of the Barolin Street house (where we have not lived in years). The text is not on a banner as it seems to be a solid sequence of plastic material shaped like the outer form of the writing, moving like a conveyor belt. I am unsure of the implication. I decide it may be unseen aliens because the text refers to humans collectively, using “you” (not me personally).

      I describe it to Zsuzsanna as she approaches. As text often does in dreams, it continuously changes, but with some readable words and phrases forming and morphing here and there. There is a transition to a similar scene, but unresolvable indoor-outdoor ambiguity (impossible with conscious perception) is predominant before the narrative changes again. The entire neighborhood seems to be inside the house. The floating text is unlike silver glitter now and plain, “rotating” across the “ceiling.” (It is a common mistake in my dreams for the sky to become a ceiling or vice versa.)

      Now it is daytime. The events are more vivid as I become more physically aware (temporary proprioception correlating with my specific level of REM atonia). Objects are continuously moving from left to right in midair, in front of the eaves of the porch. They first seem like miniature air conditioners. Zsuzsanna is to my left (as with our sleeping position). I know they should keep going, but a few of them fall from the sequence on the porch floor and outside near the porch door.

      I pick up one object and throw it into the front yard. I soon throw another one that rapidly slides across the street into someone else’s front yard, though into a culvert drainage ditch (confusion with the Cubitis house in America). There is an unfamiliar dark-haired man who is also moving similar objects out of the way. I apologize to him. He remains cheerful. He tells me that the gadgets might be a type of camera. (This event is my dream’s most vivid part because of vestibular phasing, somatosensory phasing, and increasing, though imaginary, proprioception for eventual emerging from REM atonia.)

      It is suddenly night again. I am temporarily concerned that the objects, like empty cardboard boxes at this point, might explode (myoclonic anticipation caused by REM sleep). Our middle son walks out into the front yard (from the porch) just as an explosion occurs (though he is about ten years younger in my dream). The explosion causes him to fly back through the top of the porch’s inner wall (physically impossible but a predictable outcome when remaining in the dream state after a REM myoclonic event). It is as if there was a gap above the window frames. He now stands near us and seems fine. I get the vivid impression of a simulated “war” or events caused by aliens that do not understand that humans can die. (My level of metacognition is low, so this is my mind creatively compensating for the fakeness of the dream state.)

      In the next scene, multicolored glowing barrels are “rolling” in midair in the sky and “shooting” rectangular and square pieces of themselves at various buildings and people (though no one seems injured). At this point, there is a vague association with “Pixels” from 2015 (likely an influence for much of the content).

      In my dream’s last scene, I walk up to an “alien” who seems to be fixing a public building. I talk to the unfamiliar man (who looks human). I tell him that Earth’s military might destroy their spaceships once they learn what is happening. Protoconsciousness (caused by REM cerebral phasing) initiates as an “alien” who reminds me of Melvin Belli as the Gorgan from the “Star Trek” episode, “And the Children Shall Lead.”

      He holds up his hand, addressing the other “alien” and me while cheerfully saying, “Propaganda!” about what I said.

      “That’s not what ‘propaganda’ is, you moron,” I shout. I explain what propaganda is to him as I slowly wake, but consider they might not understand other English words. Of course, this was the protoconsciousness catalyst that triggered more realistic emotion (more so than the earlier explosion near my son) as well as cerebral phasing.




    3. Spider versus Spider

      by , 06-13-2021 at 04:03 PM
      Morning of June 13, 2021. Sunday.

      Dream #: 19,900-04. 2 min 20 sec read.





      After letting go of attention to post-hypnagogic navigation (lucid in every sleep cycle long before I ever heard the term), typical residual factors eventually become the foundation of a new dream. Often, staircases emerge from a wall and drop like a Murphy bed to correlate with my transitioning vestibular phasing response. (This process occurs after my first dream of walking and losing my footing with rapid falling, and in another dream signifying my loss of mobility of my arms - sometimes with another dream character dropping something. The third correlation typically displays REM atonia indicators such as a statue or sleep simulacrum as the corresponding feature in this dream.)

      I become aware I am an unknown woman in a sheer white nightgown sleeping with her body draped over an outdoor staircase in daylight. I am also a giant tarantula about the size of a person. It is an ambiguous dual perception, though I am more focused as the spider on the woman’s left. I am still both. The building is on stumps with open space underneath, and its outdoor staircase is about five steps, leading to an open doorway into a large empty room with a wooden floor. There is a vague essence of the Arcadia, Florida school grounds in the 1960s, but with no correlation with its waking-life appearance.

      I consider what I should do. I am not focused enough to viably navigate my present status, but I recall the dynamics of ASMR and summoning content to stimulate my emotions. I try to create another giant tarantula.

      Another giant tarantula (protoconsciousness) appears. Its legs are as big as tree trunks as I hear its loud steps. It is exponentially larger than my tarantula form. It is so big that I only see its legs at times. Although it continues to walk past the part of the building I am near, I anticipate it will look through a different doorway (about 20 feet away), perpendicular to the entrance I am near, and it does. Even so, both my sleeping woman form and my spider form are below the doorway’s line of sight. (In this dreaming experience, I forget that waking a sleep simulacrum sometimes vivifies a dream.)

      The giant tarantula speaks in a human voice, “You may be asleep now, but will you be asleep at this time tomorrow?” He is speaking to both my forms. I could pull the woman down the steps, and we could both go under the building and remain there for a time, but I decide not to do this. I do not feel much emotion as it is more like a surreal game.

      I decide to leave my sleep simulacrum and run at an angle toward a beach. It feels strange running on my eight legs. I notice a long pipe that is open on its end, but I consider it might be too small to navigate.

      The other giant tarantula keeps going in a direction away from me and is no longer in the area.

      Now there is a duck hunter at a distance who shoots at me with a rifle with no effect. I consider I will be able to walk on water over the ocean. I think if the other tarantula returns, he will be too big to follow me. Additionally, the man has no boat.

      I become annoyed by the duck hunter continuously shooting at me. I shoot small missiles at him from my eyes (REM ocular response) without any effect as my dream fades.





    4. Pterodactyl Model Panning (causation explained)

      by , 05-15-2021 at 08:32 AM
      Morning of May 15, 2021. Saturday.

      Dream #: 19,871-02. Optimized 2 minute read.




      Note; The waking-life model is red. For the image, I made it the same as the predominant color in my dream (though there were other colors). The additional optional outer wing piece is for a torn wing feature.

      My dream begins with me sitting near a river, though the water lowers over time. (This attribute has remained the same for this dream type for over 50 years. One influence is from isolation tank films I saw as a child, though it also naturally corresponds with melatonin mediation and ultradian rhythm.) Typical indoor-outdoor ambiguity (impossible to discern as such in waking life) is predominant at some points, though there is more morphing of the setting than usual. The locational inferences are unknown. I have recall of my real-life identity to the extent of where I recall I have three sons.

      I think of creating a portal so that my sons can see a living pterodactyl through it. We do not intend to go through the portal but to watch different events through it.

      A somatosensory phase response (a natural, predictable shift to attention on using my hands toward resolving REM atonia) becomes predominant, and there is a spontaneous flight-related association with the Aurora Pterodactyl model kit from the early 1970s. I had one when I was a boy. In this instance, the process curiously mixes with finding gold coins (also somatosensory summoning), but only as a supraliminal influence. (I do not think about panning for gold in my dream, only recovering all the pieces of a plastic pterodactyl model.)

      After my sons watch a living pterodactyl through the portal (a precursor to managing the vestibular phasing of dreaming) for a few minutes, I begin finding many different sizes and colors of pieces from various fictitious versions of what is otherwise the same Aurora pterodactyl model kit.

      Many parts are smaller than the waking-life kit, but there are no larger versions. I see little cyan plastic wings, but also green, blue, and other colors. There are more outer wing parts than other features. I also notice some small wing connectors; rectangular prisms. I become fascinated by their variety and study their random arrangement for several minutes. However, there is no dream segment where parts of a complete model are collected and assembled.
      Revealing dream content causation:

      I continue to be fascinated by how the same processes and phasing responses (often in the same order throughout my sleep cycle) result in so many unique and engaging narratives.

      This dream’s narrative is a result of my typical familiar lifelong metacognitive status and its management:

      Water induction corresponds with beginning my navigation of REM sleep and is usually the first process depending on my dream’s time.

      Vestibular system ambiguity (vestibular cortex phasing response) is from being in REM sleep and links to my metacognitive pursuit of mind-body reconnectivity, often with flight associations. In this instance, however, the phasing curve favors my metacognitive focus on REM atonia (physical immobility in sleep).

      As is often the case, my dream focuses on managing the virtual division between dreaming and attaining wakefulness. Here, it results in a “portal” (rather than the more mundane summoning of a door) and the mental and physical duality of dreaming that is absent in real life.
    5. Red Red Wine

      by , 05-02-2021 at 08:38 AM
      Morning of May 2, 2021. Sunday.

      Dream #: 19,858-02. 3 min 40 sec read.



      This dream begins with the same premise as a March 4, 2021 dream, though with different details and an unrelated outcome. In the previous dreaming experience, my mother gave me two American fifty-dollar bills and her bankbook. In this dream, she gives me one fifty-dollar note. I consider asking her for an additional ten dollars (imagining it as an American ten-dollar bill), but I do not. In both instances, I want the cash to pay some of what I owe my landlady. I had considered getting the additional ten dollars in this dream for food.

      Neither dream self version has any level of waking-life identity or recall, including any memory that my mother and landlady had died or that I have lived in Australia since 1994. Because I am sixty years old in real life, the supraliminal association with wanting sixty dollars may be the correlation in this case even though my dream self is only about twenty-five years old here. (I had established that because paper money is associated with being carried in a wallet that contains an identification card, it is a potential indicator of my imaginary dream self seeking my real-life identity to resolve the duality of the dream state. It is different with coins that I mainly summon to increase somatosensory awareness.)

      I teleport to the King Street mansion (boarding house) to give my landlady the fifty-dollar note. My metacognitive vestibular phasing response predictably corresponds with my dream's ongoing narrative. The staircase does not reach the second floor. Even so, I can maneuver to the door of my apartment that in this dream is the northeast corner room. An unknown male is living in the adjacent room.

      My dream, for a short time, becomes a typical haunting scenario. I summon an unseen ghost to move objects around for amusement. There are three responses with furniture moving on its own as my landlady watches. (Ghosts most often represent my metacognitive state, where my conscious self is incomplete and "haunts" the dream state, the fundamental reason why I summon hauntings other than for entertainment.)

      Eventually, I realize I need to get to my technical institute class. However, I do not have a good pair of pants. The blue jeans I am wearing now have large mustard stains on each leg. I try to come up with a way to wear my pants without the legs being visible, warping my physicality as a result. I float around above the missing part of the staircase, using my belt in different ways, and having my pants only come up to my knees. I then recall I may have clothes at my brother's house.

      I teleport to where Dennis (half-brother on my mother's side) lives. (The bedroom does not resemble anywhere either he or I ever lived in real life.) Another male, unknown, is present (though he vaguely reminds me of a man who lived in the King Street house for a time). I see about four pairs of my blue jeans, one on the bed and the others on the floor. I wonder if Dennis minds if I had left them here. He seems cheerful.

      As I try to put my pants on, I repeatedly cheerfully sing, "Red red wine goes to my head, red red wine goes to my head." I sway about in amusement. The other male, sitting on the left side of the bed, starts to sing a different line, but Dennis puts his finger to his lips to shush him. I soon wake.



      At least one dream from each sleep cycle for over 50 years has included my metacognitive concurrence with being asleep in a literal response (though my dreams are not symbolic in a conventional sense anyway). In this instance, it also has the anticipation of waking and putting on my blue jeans. The difference is that, in real life, my jeans were near the foot of our bed on the floor. In my dream, there were some on the right side of the bed on the floor. (As I have pointed out in thousands of previous entries, dreaming features are like this to avoid associations with waking life, the opposite of the majority of people, including "dream eperts," who are not metacognitive dreamers and consequently cannot ever understand why dreaming narratives are as they are.)

      The wakefulness simulacrum is sitting on the left side of the bed, and in reality, I sleep on the left side (though this is more about the metacognitive catalyst of the dream state above typical errors). Even so, Dennis shushes him as one does when someone is sleeping in the same room. This event has occurred in many past dreams since childhood with different narratives.

      So why "Red Red Wine?" There are several reasons, the first being the association with how dreams lack cognizance (and absence of intellect) and mind-body connectivity (REM atonia) as when drunk. The line "goes to my head" is a reference to dreaming. There is also a subliminal reference to the unsung line "Makes me forget that I still need her so" (the virtual amnesia of dreaming and how my waking-life identity is otherwise absent in this dream). Red is also a reference to the predominant waking-alert factor as well as blood. Additionally, Zsuzsanna had been focusing on a post on Facebook without me knowing. It was about wine (in a thread of enigmatic space that most people deny, yet is how I dreamt of Zsuzsanna long before we met in the first place).


    6. Creatures of the Night (Fun with Bats and Witches)

      by , 03-18-2021 at 10:40 AM
      Morning of March 18, 2021. Thursday.

      Dream #: 19,813-03/04/5. 3 min 20 sec read.




      Vestibular Phasing:

      In one dream, with the usual liminal anticipation of vestibular phasing, I am atop a plateau near a crevice late at night. There is the silhouette of a castle in the distance. There is a silhouette of an unknown man in the foreground. I am floating about ten feet above the ground. Although there is a vague association with vampires, I view the scene as artistic and without wariness. (There is a liminal association with the painting “Wanderer above the Sea of Fog” by Caspar David Friedrich as if the unknown man is the wanderer.) Beauty and elegance are in the detail of the bats I summon as they fly from the crevice with pleasant energy. In the navigation of this fundamental process, I achieve a deep sense of peace.

      Liminal Awareness of Being in Bed Increases:

      In another dream, I am in an unfamiliar semidark bedroom after sunrise. Many people, including family members, are asleep in bed. In different areas of the large bedroom are several clusters of about three to four sleeping bats. (They are sleeping in arrangements similar to our four kittens, probably the influence for this dream sequence.) My dream self does not perceive them as bats (even though they are) but another kind of unusual flying mammal. I make comments about them to an unknown man that had awakened. The bats are about the size of kittens and are white with small black spots, like dalmatians.

      Somatosensory Phasing:

      I open a door a few inches to let them out, and most of them fly out into the bright sunlight. There is a vivid essence of weight and movement, even though I only pick up one. As I hold it and feel it squirm, it bites me on the back of my hand about an inch below my pinkie. Even though I see a small red circular sore after I let it fly away, I am unconcerned. A thin trail of gray foam emerges from the sore, trailing to my pinkie. I am puzzled but unconcerned. (As is typical for this kind of somatosensory phasing, there is a magnification or zooming with the imagery. My hand’s size is increased by about a third.) My dream self does not logically consider that a bite would have left two marks.

      In another dream, the narrative involves a young witch trying to eliminate three problematic older witches. The setting seems to be in a cave (sleep signification) but is like a house. Her focus is eventually on “the third one.” For a time, it seems impossible to eliminate this last witch from her life. She ritualistically chants and looks at drawings from her childhood. Meanwhile, I ask Zsuzsanna if one of the pictures is of Kermit the Frog, but I soon see it as an anthropomorphic rockface facing left in profile. I read a few random phrases but do not recall them.

      Finally, the young witch recites a poem, and the other witch becomes water that fills the room about an inch in depth. At this point, Zsuzsanna wants to leave the “movie,” and so we walk outside. (The water becomes lower, a scene that has occurred in my dreams continually for over 50 years. I realized, even as a child, it signified nearing the end of my sleep cycle.)

      We will be going home. It is morning. Our youngest daughter is with us (though she is the only other family member with us). We are atop a plateau. Looking back at a small structure, I wonder if we should take the three VHS tapes with us of the “movies” we watched (including the last one). Zsuzsanna says we can leave them there for now.

      Navigation of Vestibular Phasing and Imaginary Kinesthesia:

      We have to descend metal ladders to get to the ground far below. Our youngest daughter holds onto Zsuzsanna’s back. She is on my right as I step down onto the ladder, facing the rockface. I am slightly wary about the placement of my feet as the imaginary physicality of dreaming becomes ambiguous. In trying to discern my body’s position and orientation, I automatically wake with a smooth transition. It is otherwise like thousands of previous dreams.



      Two dream content predictions for this date were a plateau or mountaintop and a bat silhouette. (Note that I do not look at predictions until after my dreaming experiences and solving them. People might find this inexplicable, but it is not. In understanding my dreams and their causation and statistics, it is possible to forecast content. For this date, a plateau or mountaintop was 25% likely, a bat 50%, and a silhouette 75%. Even so, elevated areas and managing vestibular phasing and imaginary kinesthesia have occurred throughout every sleep cycle for over 50 years. It has zero to do with symbolism or the pretense of interpretation in contrast to knowing causation. Additionally, associations with flight, including spontaneously flying on my own and managing vestibular phasing in additional ways, occur continually throughout every sleep cycle.)


    7. Crayfish Fight, and My Dancing Flight

      by , 12-24-2020 at 04:07 PM
      Morning of December 23, 2020. Wednesday.

      Dream #: 19,728-03/02. Reading time (optimized): 1 min 45 sec.


      This entry includes two unrelated dream narratives. The first integrates somatosensory phasing (as a result of sleep atonia with liminal finger movement associations while sleeping), and the second, the usual vestibular phasing.

      In my first dream, its setting is not only of typical indoor-outdoor ambiguity but also ambiguously underwater yet not underwater. I am simultaneously sitting at the bottom of a lake, in a room, an outdoor area above water, and a large aquarium. Even so, it does not feel like I am underwater other than when I press my face into a vertical wall of suspended water under the “lake.” I am sitting on a couch. (The floor is like the bottom of a lake but with a living room feel.)

      A few people are making a video. There is an unrelated event where two crayfish are fighting. I place my hand near them, and they move apart. There is a buzzing sensation in my fingers. They come back to fight and move about several times.


      I am playfully sarcastic regarding the video the others are making. I press my face into a wall of water. When I speak, my voice only makes gurgling sounds. I can vividly feel the water on my nose and mouth. I am recording my “speaking” for the others to use in their video.


      In my offset dream, predictable vestibular phasing brings about the usual liminal navigation of floating and flying. An actor is performing for others. On stage right, I perform some unusual dancing as he speaks. I soon float several feet into the air to hover for several seconds each time. As I slowly fly, my awareness becomes more vivid. I feel cheerful, and my activity is effortless (as the result of vestibular system correlation, a non-symbolic fundamental physiological effect of navigating the dream state).

      The scene in my first dream comes from the annoying gurgling in numerous videos I have seen recently in waking life, even on mainstream media. Their talking becomes so incoherent with the gurgling effect I often cannot discern most of the words. This attribute is from noise removal settings being too high. I would rather hear background noise than be unable to understand what they are saying.

      Somatosensory phasing relating to water denizens is typically in dreams near the middle of my sleep cycle, and in this case, the process precedes the vestibular phasing, making it more vivid and effortless. There were recent dreams with a giant walking squid (Gezora), my hand transforming into a starfish, the sleep atonia causation regarding my arms as two ghostly octopus tentacles phasing from out of a tabletop, and many more.

      Updated 12-24-2020 at 04:12 PM by 1390

      Categories
      lucid
    8. Out for a Ride on a Back-to-Back Couch Car

      by , 12-20-2020 at 08:51 AM
      Morning of December 20, 2020. Sunday.

      Dream #: 19,725-02. Reading time (optimized): 2 min.



      My typical navigation of liminality and phasing sequences during sleep does not include waking-life identity at first or recall of what a dream is. The extraordinarily vivid experience of imaginary kinaesthesia is predominant throughout the first part of my dreaming experience.

      Duality with vestibular phasing personification results in an unknown male driving a vehicle I ride in. The “car” is solely two back-to-back couches on wheels. It is similar to the couch I sit on in waking life, though I am on the far left (unlike at any time in waking life). We go through an unknown city. There does not appear to be a steering wheel anywhere. Somehow, as we are traveling, the unfamiliar man leaves. I remain on the front couch while his wife and at least one son stay on the back couch. Additionally, the “vehicle” is now speedily going in reverse over an overpass.

      The realism of imaginary kinaesthesia, including the vivid sense of momentum and direction, is astounding. I become slightly wary at times, but I do not have any fear. The others, speeding forward, do not seem afraid. As the front couch speeds in reverse, I see cars on the street of the appearance they should have, yet which does not cause me to question why our “car” is back-to-back couches.

      I consider I will try to stop or at least slow down the couch as our speed increases slightly. On the left end, below the arm, is a lever. (In waking life, this is the lever that extends the footrest.) As I pull it, I feel the couch slow down and come to a stop in the parking lot of a shopping mall. We all get out, and our driver is there looking at a storefront. Two people talk to him as they are leaving. They say they cannot give him a tour but invite him to look around inside the empty store. Dagwood Bumstead (from the “Blondie” comic strip) is standing nearby.

      I begin to recall my waking-life identity, but I walk to an unknown residence where my family and I supposedly live. I walk through a room with a Christmas tree in the corner. I see the isolated shadow of a tree’s branch on the ceiling (truncated as a circular form), with no source, but I perceive it as random dirt I will remove later.

      Somatosensory phasing begins with increasing liminal awareness of being asleep in bed in my dream’s final segment. Gustatory phasing coheres with somatosensory phasing. As a result, in my dream, I am on a bed. I need to clean candy sprinkles from it. I scoop them up to eat, and their taste is sweet. The hundreds of tiny pieces of candy form a pattern similar to a river delta. There seems to be no end to them as I continue to eat as many as possible. The bed extends several feet, even into another room. No matter how many sprinkles I pick up to eat, there are always several remaining.


    9. “Take them to the Mines”

      by , 12-18-2020 at 10:14 AM
      Night of December 17, 2020. Thursday.

      Dream #: 19,722-18. Reading time: 2 min 12 sec.



      In my dream, I become aware of being in an unfamiliar house. I am looking through a doorway where a young girl sits at a desk in a smaller room, writing. (I am standing near the center of a mostly featureless room.) A little bird is on her desk, having left its cage. I am somewhat surprised that cerebral phasing (and its personification) is still active. Ordinarily, the Naiad factor (melatonin mediation) has occupied this part of my sleep cycle’s timeline for over 50 years. (She is not a Naiad though she does mention mines, suggesting caves, in the outcome of the narrative.)

      I slowly become aware of the silhouettes of about six birds. They are peregrine falcons and owls flying around in the foreground, about two feet in front of me in the same room. There is significant energy that increases over time.

      After an intriguing sustained hypnotic focus on this shadowy rustling and atypical energy for this stage, the girl turns to tell me, “Take them to the mines.” I know it means to prepare to enter a deeper sleep to decrease vestibular phasing and myoclonic anticipation.



      How to understand the reasons for dream content:

      Can ultradian rhythm, sleep dynamics, and the time of my dream be determined solely by content? Yes, in this instance, it most certainly can. Here is why:

      Firstly, “take them to the mines,” preconsciously commands going to a dark place underground. In other words, it anticipates my liminal thoughts of entering deeper sleep near the beginning of my sleep cycle. (I am typically aware of the causes of my dreams while I am navigating them. It is not “intepretation” to already comprehend what is occurring.) References to caves in anticipation of entering (or returning to) deeper sleep have been a regular feature in my dreams for over 50 years.

      Because the peregrine falcons and owls are somewhat restless and in the foreground, as a result of predominant vestibular phasing (implying it will take longer to succumb to sleep atonia), the cerebral phasing personification (the girl at her desk) increases to bring attention to the process; thus the cerebral phasing (and reasoning ability) is also at a higher level than usual. Birds also often anticipate myoclonus while sleeping, though in this case, the residual vestibular phasing does not result in myoclonus.

      Why is my anticipation of slow-wave sleep compensated for here in associating it with mines? It is because of experiencing sleep apnea recently. The girl says, “Take them to the mines.” Despite the peregrine falcons and owls indicating restless residual vestibular phasing, a subliminal reference to canaries in coal mines for detecting harmful gases is a factor. It is associated with not being able to breathe while sleeping. Despite subliminally anticipating sleep apnea in this instance, I otherwise rarely experience it.

      My dreams often include literal references to sleeping or dreaming because I am always aware (on one of three fundamental levels; instinctual, liminal, or lucid) when navigating dream space (and duality).

      My dream’s partial influence is the print “El sueño de la razón produce monstruos” (“The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters”) by Francisco Goya. However, the foundation stems from “Young Girl Writing at Her Desk with Birds” by Henriette Browne. There was no perception of uneasiness despite the inference of the Goya print.


      Updated 12-20-2020 at 09:29 AM by 1390

      Categories
      lucid
    10. Modulating Dreaming Processes with a Calculator and a Robot

      by , 10-15-2020 at 07:19 AM
      Morning of October 15, 2020. Thursday.

      Dream #: 19,659-02. Reading time: 2 min 12 sec.



      My dream, in instinctual mode (but on the periphery of liminality throughout), transitions through the usual processes, but I carry a graphing calculator throughout my exploring and meandering. This aspect keeps my somatosensory dynamics vivid and sustains my overall clarity and perceptual awareness throughout most of my dream. I keep it in my right hand and enter numbers mostly with my thumb.

      In the main narrative, I walk through several areas of what seems to be a college campus in the late morning. I consider I am not supposed to be here, but I doubt anyone would notice or care. As I walk, I push random numbers on my calculator, which I consider some people might perceive as a cell phone. I do not look at the display and only vaguely think of random numbers to enter at different times. (It is mainly somatosensory focus holding me in the dream rather than cerebral. As I sleep, I sometimes habitually clasp the wooden slat of our bed’s headboard.)

      Eventually, I transition into the predictable “seeking the sleeper” mode. I find myself walking into the bedroom of an unknown person. As a result, associations with the physical immobility of my body (while sleeping) instinctually initiates. I cannot find a way to leave the room even though I had just walked in. The sleep personification resolves as an unfamiliar girl. She leaves her bed and talks to me. I tell her I have to find my house. She assumes I am a professor that should be living in the school and is puzzled by me calling the school a “house.” I tell her, “Well, I call where I live a house.”

      For a short time, I contemplate returning to deeper sleep. As a result, we walk to a staircase that leads down into a dark flooded basement. The girl briefly transitions into the Naiad simulacrum and talks about the process, but I decide to explore more. We continue to communicate as we find an exit from her bedroom that leads into the next predictable stage of dreaming, the parking lot setting.

      The sleep-wake personification appears as an unknown young male a foot taller than me. I consider if he will be a bully or remain friendly (especially as I am already in the last transition of the dreaming process, so he does not have to be imposing). My indecision creates a delayed and ambiguous behavior on his part as if he does not know how to act. He says something that comes out like gibberish. “What did you say?” I ask him. He does not seem rude or confrontational, but I still move on to the next process.

      I instinctually summon the process of attaining physical mobility (while still thumbing the calculator), that, of course, is imaginary while in the dream state (a fallacy that has occurred all my life when dreaming in this mode and is autosymbolic in co-occurrent continuity of the process rather than a false awakening). Although the man is not a bully, I mentally define, with engraved lines, the perimeter of a large square in the parking lot. As we watch, a Transformer robot begins to emerge until it is visible down to below its chest. In this analogy to moving into post-liminality, I walk on to the school building and soon wake.


    11. A Vivid Roller Coaster Adventure (control without lucidity)

      by , 09-09-2020 at 06:52 AM
      Morning of September 8, 2020. Tuesday.

      Dream #: 19,622-02. Reading time: 4 min 18 sec.



      I instinctually summon imaginary kinaesthesia to vivify and sustain my dreaming experience. It is crucial to comprehend that this process is not symbolic, interpretable, or influenced by waking life but is a deliberate attempt to become more immersed in my dream. (Summoning imaginary kinaesthesia means instinctually directing the vestibular system ambiguity resulting from the lack of viable discernment of my physical body and its orientation while in dream sleep to favor the inward illusory side of this ambiguity to increase the illusion of movement and momentum. I have indulged in this practice since I was a toddler.)

      I am also instinctually aware of Zsuzsanna sleeping close to me on my left. As a result, in my dream, she is sitting on my left in what first seems like a small open train but soon becomes a car on a roller coaster. There are no other roller coaster cars or people. (Meanwhile, Zsuzsanna is dreaming of being on a train, intimating we are in the same stage of dreaming, not necessarily transpersonal as it is a fundamental process.)

      My dream vivifies with realistic movement (correlating with my imaginary physicality) as we ride the roller coaster. I see its unusual structures ahead, but I remain unconcerned, and our ride is smooth. The landscape is similar to that along West Avenue North in La Crosse. I realize that the ride will take us to a resort that features a beach. This factor is an instinctual summoning of melatonin mediation. Water exemplifies the illusory essence and nuances of sleep. (Meanwhile, Zsuzsanna continues in the same dreaming stage. However, in her dream, she remains on the train. Rain starts to come in because of a leak in the roof.)

      At the unfamiliar resort, the beach is suddenly an indoor feature after the typical indoor-outdoor ambiguity of this dreaming mode begins but favors the indoor factor. It is now more like a big indoor swimming pool. Our oldest son is now with us (even though he did not travel here with us), but he is only about ten years old. (There is no recall of our other four children at this point.) He cheerfully jumps into the water. Several other people are swimming while I sit with my legs hanging over the edge of the pool and sarcastically complain about there being no beach. At this point, because of sustained virtual melatonin mediation, I become aware our son is not resurfacing. I soon see him below the water’s surface and pull him up, and he seems to be unconscious (instinctual awareness I am sleeping). He recovers and complains about a man grabbing him underwater and doing something to his face.

      Zsuzsanna, our son, and I walk down a hall as I complain about the place and the man who may have hurt our son. A sleep-wake manager (also the manager of the resort) comes to us with another unknown male and states how he removed a small stick from our son’s nose and also intended to bring him up to the surface. Even so, I am annoyed that such a business would allow debris where people are swimming.

      In the next scene, Zsuzsanna, our son, and I are in a small room with windows encompassing three sides and benches attached to three walls. We watch an unrealistically large shark swimming around, though it does not bump the glass or pose a threat. The height of its head is higher than the windows when it is closest. (This scene was directly influenced by “Underwater” from 2020, though in the movie, it was people watching a giant fictitious oceanic creature through a window. Despite the influence, it correlates with precursory liminality that I informally call wall mediation, instinctual awareness of the concurrent division between imaginary dream space and potential waking space.)

      At a service counter, I become annoyed when the manager gives us complimentary bowls of ice cream. I knock them to the floor, as I do not want to spend any more time here, and end up leaving on my own with less of my waking-life identity. I climb up the roller coaster and attempt to ride a car back home (mistakenly perceived as Northside La Crosse, where I have not been in waking life since 1994). Even though my dream exponentially vivifies at this point, it also transitions to the emergence side of physicality and kinaesthesia. It now seems I am on a mechanic’s creeper (instead of a roller coaster car) and trying to move through a small wooden tunnel, feet first while on my back. (This type of dream state process occurs when precursory liminality becomes predominant in that I am then liminally aware of my physical body being immobile and beyond my control while sleeping. At this point, I am also instinctually aware of my sleeping position, which is mostly on my back.) I think about the unusual restrictions of the design and consider how men of a bigger size than me could not use the transportation at all. Even so, it seems likely that I will not be able to continue comfortably.

      I decide to teleport (with only vague myoclonus). I am suddenly in an unknown outdoor location in Northside La Crosse. Two people are present; an unfamiliar man and a woman (quantum model of Zsuzsanna). I tell the man that I teleported here. He seems puzzled and incredulous. I prove it to him by teleporting about six feet to the left of my present position with the sense of quickly blinking and becoming more aware of the dream state’s essence again. He cheerfully holds up his cell phone to film me in a conspiratorial manner, but I turn so that my face is out of range. I cause his cell phone to stop working. The screen cracks, and it displays what looks like an analogue television on an empty channel.

      I explain that whatever I say happens. I summon somatosensory dynamics (to augment my dream self’s sense of touch), but with big diamonds rather than eggs or coins. I open my hand to reveal an unrealistically large diamond that I give to the man. I tell him it is only worth about $30,000.00. Other diamonds appear in my hand. I give the woman one.

      In the last scene, she happily approaches me as I am leaving to remind me I had already given her a diamond on a previous day. She opens her hand to show me two large diamonds.


    12. An Unusual Journey

      by , 08-23-2020 at 10:57 AM
      Morning of August 23, 2020. Sunday.

      Dream #: 19,606-03. Reading time: 2 min 42 sec.



      There were more kinaesthetic and somatosensory events in this dream than usual. The processes sustained my dreaming experience but resulted in an exaggerated and prolonged sensory focus that was predominant in the unusual narrative.

      In the first part, my instinctual awareness I am sleeping results in the opening scene being in an unknown bedroom. My conscious self identity mostly remains present throughout my dream. Zsuzsanna and I are going on a trip to another part of town (fictitious location). We are sharing an apartment with an unknown woman. I have to get dressed, but it is too difficult. My pants will not go up over my hips. I am annoyed by the irritating sensations. (This sometimes happens when I sleep with a heavy blanket.) Even so, the scenario eventually changes, and Zsuzsanna and I are walking along a dirt road.

      There is an exhibition in an unfamiliar region. Zsuzsanna introduces me to an unknown male named Chris. She supposedly knew him when she was younger and living in Nimbin (though that is impossible, as he is only about twenty years old). An unknown man takes a picture of Zsuzsanna, saying how beautiful she is and acting as if she is on her own and available. I take his camera and smash it, noticing that there is a roll of film inside with images of people. I am unsure if he will still be able to develop it, but I mangle the camera as much as possible and throw it on the floor. (This situation was influenced by a scene from “King Kong” I had seen a small part of last night. It is the scene where Carl discovers his destroyed camera. The only difference is that, in my dream, I could see transparent individual images in the film.)

      Somatosensory dynamics cause me to focus on my hands. I have a silver ring that used to be tight on my finger, but now it is far too big to stay on it. I move it around over my finger and tell others about the situation. It seems I am shrinking, or at least my hand is.

      Zsuzsanna and I are going to leave. I start to walk down a staircase on my own and (as is typical in dreams) imaginary kinaesthesia becomes predominant. The steps are individual stacked storage boxes, and some below me fall to the ground as I remain on the higher section. Other people cannot get down either. I consider that some people below can put the steps back, but they walk off. A woman at a counter in the building tells me I can turn and go to another area. I teleport to the back of the building by going under the large gap in the lower section. There are many people around. I soon teleport back and jump to the ground. I tell the woman at the counter (from outside the entrance, though the setting is ambiguous) that the staircase is illegal (because of being unsafe for the public). She cheerfully tells me that she knows it is obviously against the law but that it is only a temporary setup for the exhibition.

      Zsuzsanna and I and our youngest daughter are walking home. An enormous vehicle approaches from the opposite direction, and we go to the side of the street. However, the machine is so big it is over most of the area. The bottom of the long truck is over ten feet above us. It seems to be a street-building and maintenance device that pours the asphalt as it travels as well as smooths out the surface and performs other tasks. The driver is aware of us at one point and swerves slightly, but we still cannot get past and cannot continue safely either. There is a high-set chain-link fence on our left that prevents us from going another way. Despite the gigantic size of the vehicle, I push on its wheels and slide it away from us as if it weighed hardly anything (though I am aware of some weight and momentum).


    13. The Rain

      by , 08-10-2020 at 11:38 AM
      Morning of August 10, 2020. Monday.

      Dream #: 19,593-02. Reading time: 2 min 50 sec.



      While comfortably re-entering light sleep by choice, I summon my favorite scene - a light rain in an urban neighborhood. It is in the late morning. As I float into the extraordinarily vivid setting, flying slowly about four feet above the street, I choose to remain incorporeal, without summoning and integrating imaginary physicality. Even so, imaginary kinaesthesia becomes a factor of my navigation through the fictitious environment. I indulge in the astounding detail and beauty of raindrops falling into puddles.

      Eventually, there is an incidental recall that Zsuzsanna and I had briefly discussed the Netflix series “The Rain” last night while scrolling through the content. (We had only seen the first episode weeks ago.) Two people (implied to be from the series) walk into the previously unpopulated setting, strolling off to my left, eventually no longer in view. I consider whether my dream will amalgamate the backstory of the series in implying the rain is dangerous.

      American actor Jack Albertson (June 16, 1907-November 25, 1981) is lying on his left side on the ground (concurrent with my sleeping position). He is inside a fenced area not much longer than his height, the top of his head directed to the sidewalk. The fenced area is otherwise for either recyclables or junk from the adjacent service station. I wonder if sleeping in the rain will be problematic for him during my distracted association with “The Rain.” His eyes roll up with his visage like Elise Rainier’s from “Insidious: The Last Key” Zsuzsanna and I watched last night.

      Soon, the young Elise Rainier forms from droplets of rain flowing over a tree and hovers in the air about three feet from the sidewalk (typical reinduction as the Naiad factor common since childhood) and vocalizes the melody (with only tenuto “oo” sounds) of Jim Reeve’s “The Blizzard.” (My dream self does not make the association with that song or its implications during my dream.) This factor stabilizes the original peaceful essence of the dream state.

      Even so, after about fifteen minutes, cerebral nuances begin to activate wakefulness, resulting in text of various colors appearing on the street in paint and chalk. (Despite the rain, it does not wash away.) I float over an area where the word “leveling” features in white paint. I focus more on my usual seeking of text in this mode, but nothing relevant is in my view after this. I see what I first think might be a word, but it transforms into a series (about five of them) of the letter “i.” I see the character “o” in a set of three. Probably every letter of the English alphabet, in various colors, features at varying angles to each other on the street’s surface.



      Notes on this dream’s no-brainer causality:

      The essence of water (both summoned and spontaneous) begins the majority of my dreaming experiences in this mode as virtual melatonin. The Naiad factor is the pineal gland personification but also has mystical implications with the so-called third eye (as well as the Eye of Providence).

      Note the incidental play on “Elise Rainier” as “release rain” (“produce more melatonin to sustain my dream”).

      “Leveling” is concurrent with the transition from the imaginary kinaesthesia of floating into legitimate physicality without myoclonus. (There is probably an association of the balance between serotonin and melatonin).

      Jack Albertson’s role as this dream’s sleep simulacrum ties with several threads of dream state causality. Firstly, he remains in bed in the first scenes of “Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory.”

      Secondly, that association was recalled from me posting an image of Willie Talk (a ventriloquist dummy) on Twitter yesterday, a doll being the signification of the absence of mental and physical viability while sleeping.

      Thirdly, his visage is as Elise Rainier’s in a trance (yet another play on sleeping and dreaming).

      Fourthly, the fenced area signifies both the virtual division between dream space and the threshold of wakefulness and, in this case, is also indicative of how the physical body is restricted in its movement while sleeping.



      Everything in this dream stems from the same causation factors as the tens of thousands of other dreaming experiences I have studied and resolved daily for over 50 years. Even so, the uniqueness each time is surprisingly admirable.


      Categories
      lucid
    14. The New Design (and morphing / liminality modulation)

      by , 07-28-2020 at 11:12 AM
      Morning of July 28, 2020. Tuesday.

      Dream #: 19,580-02. Reading time (optimized): 2 min 30 sec.



      I am dreaming in an instinctual mode that transitions to moderate liminal modifications that define my emergence from illusory dream perception to the threshold of wakefulness and precursory physicality. My waking-life identity is irrelevant and absent throughout this process.



      I am sitting on the couch in the living room of the Loomis Street house (unseen in waking life since February 1994). I have no recall of its history as my dream starts with a fanciful theme, with morphing content. The narrative initiates emerging physical awareness by first acknowledging and defining the immobility of my physical body while sleeping (a fundamental dreaming process).

      My dream’s narrative begins with the creation of miniature walls (about a foot in height) with the appearance of the front of a barn (the quantization of the virtual division between dream space and waking space), featuring a hayloft door and barn doors. An unfamiliar male character of about twenty years old had been creating them under the management of British actor Mark Sheppard (this dream’s sleep-wake manager) who remains a passive witness, as my dream self is initiating the waking transition in this instance.

      I instinctually continue the process by mentally creating a new version of the little wall. Its appearance differs from the original design only in that it features four miniaturized drawer spaces (without drawers), of equal size, beneath two adjacent doorways (where the barn doors had been). They are in two columns of two, and the feature matches the width of the barn’s entrance. A narrow column evenly divides the two doorways, directly above the division of the two drawer space tiers. (This feature instinctually acknowledges the compartmentalization of neural activity while in REM sleep, though with the anticipation of achieving consciousness.) Mark looks on as I feel cheerful about this more elaborate design.

      The modulatory process (co-occurrent with progressing towards wakefulness) continues with a change in the feature. The area where the drawer spaces were is magnified and isolated while the rest of my dream’s environment becomes undefined. I see two miniaturized gray boom gates that mirror each other, facing the center. This feature instinctually anticipates the exit point of the dream state. As a result, somatosensory dynamics initiate. I push down on the tip of the little boom gate on the right, and it springs back up (sleep atonia to myoclonus).

      My instinctual awareness of my immobility while sleeping (sleep atonia) integrates into the next change in the feature. Mark remains, but I do not look at him. The little boom gates transform as the area is now over twice the size as previously. They are now tonearms that face each other (similar to those of a 1950s record player).

      I become aware that there is motorized clockwork higher within this feature, though I wonder if the tonearm on the left is redundant or if it might interfere with the function of this device. I move the right tonearm in the manner of how I would use it when placing it on a record. The left tonearm only slightly moves on its own as I do this. Mark says he does not think there will be any problems with the new design.



      Even though this dream utilizes the usual processes, I found this particular sequence fascinating in its uniqueness and inventiveness.



      Factors not explained in the main entry:

      Hayloft door (quantized in the miniature wall): Instinctual anticipation of the vestibular system ambiguity as a result of being in REM sleep. A recent variation of this occurred in “Conspiratorial Murals (‘Tickle Me’ Influence),” where my dream self even made a vocal acknowledgment of the process.

      Tonearms: Correlation with liminally becoming aware of the physicality and potential mobility of my arms during the waking transition (sleep atonia to myoclonus).


    15. A Unique Military Operation

      by , 07-18-2020 at 07:07 AM
      Morning of July 18, 2020. Saturday.

      Dream #: 19,570-02. Reading time (optimized): 2 min.



      My waking-life identity is absent throughout this dreaming experience. My dream’s backstory emerges as an atypical narrative where I am pretending to be a high-ranking military officer. I have an unfamiliar younger male partner who is working with me. Even so, the outcome is to result in delivering something to a genuine naval ship or a high-ranking officer.

      The narrative otherwise firstly links as a precursory factor to the usual instinctual summoning of imaginary kinaesthesia to vivify the dream state. In this case, the vehicle resembles a WWI US Standard B Liberty Army Truck, though with the driver’s side on the right. My partner and I are trying to convince an unknown civilian male to give us items from a research laboratory that relate to recent discoveries in molecular biology. He is uncertain if we are legitimate but decides to cooperate with us. He wants to ride with us as well, reflecting that he hoped he had put his trust in the right people.

      My partner drives the truck as my dream vivifies, and night becomes day. The streets and high embankments are all white sand as we travel. At one point, the vehicle goes onto a small wooden raft, and it simultaneously takes us across a river as if the momentum of the truck put it in motion. We travel around for a few minutes on a battleship that has areas that make it appear more like a cargo ship.

      The three of us stand outside a military base. A general walks out to greet us, and I salute him. He seems to recognize my partner and me but greets me as a “French pig.” I do not take it as an insult, but I am puzzled because I am supposed to be an American officer. The man we brought here does not seem to notice this contradiction. A private appears and will lead us to where we are to give what the other man took from the small town laboratory to the general.

      My dream vivifies as imaginary kinaesthesia and physicality exponentially increase when I focus on my walking I try to maintain as a formal swagger.

      We sit on what seems to be part of a dock. The general sits down farthest from the water’s edge. An unknown woman is nearby, and I consider I should show my identification. I intend to hold up my badge, but instead, hold my left hand up in a C shape as if holding an invisible one, as my summoning did not work. She does not say anything but appears slightly puzzled.

      We give the general the item. It is a resealable sandwich bag containing chocolate chip cookies. After he eats one, he takes notice of one that is bigger and of a lighter color than the others. Baked within it is microfilm. He holds it up to the light and studies one section of exposed microfilm in a thinner area of the cookie. “This is what I expected,” he says, and thanks us.


      Categories
      non-lucid
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