• Lucid Dreaming - Dream Views




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    1. Solid Tin Coyote vs. Imperial Walkers

      by , 06-18-2020 at 12:32 PM
      Night of June 17, 2020. Wednesday.

      Dream #: 19,539-14. Reading time (optimized): 2 min 30 sec.



      Before deliberately letting go of my conscious awareness and recognition of being in the dream state (see note one below), I watch the typical rapid morphing of surreal imagery until it begins to slow into something with which I can integrate. I become aware of an audio snippet from “The Solid Tin Coyote” that accompanied the scene where it is striding. (It is a very familiar and nostalgic sound going back to age five when I first saw it in a drive-in theater with my sister Marilyn and her husband.)

      I focus on the imaginary sound, and this results in a vivid vestibular response of being the solid tin coyote. However, during my dream, my viewpoint changes. At times, I am the solid tin coyote, cheerfully striding through a field. At other times, I am inside its head at a panel reminiscent of an aircraft. Additionally, I am sometimes watching it from an incorporeal perspective.

      Soon, Imperial Walkers (AT-AT walkers) from the “Star Wars” franchise appear on each side. They are slightly shorter than the solid tin coyote. As the solid tin coyote, I happily push them over and avoid their attacks.

      Eventually, when cerebral cortex nuances rise above vestibular cortex nuances (that is, thought cohesiveness beginning to overtake the imaginary physicality of the dream state because of higher liminality and more predominant duality), a Boston Dynamics robot dog struts into the scene from the opposite direction. “Mind your social distancing,” it says in a strange synthetic voice, yet while walking even closer to my solid tin coyote form.

      “Here’s your social distancing,” I say, and kick the Boston Dynamics robot dog over a pole vault bar about a city block’s distance away.

      After this, vestibular dynamics rise above cerebral, resulting in seeing a herd of zebras running to the horizon. (See note two.)



      It is important to emphasize that this is my first liminal to instinctual dream where a pandemic term was perceived, though it still did not trigger any dream state recall of the pandemic itself.



      Note one: In contrast to “becoming lucid” while dreaming (though I have always been spontaneously lucid in the first half of a sleep cycle since I was a toddler, a fact that most people can neither seem to comprehend nor accept), I often utilize the opposite technique. After building a foundation of repeated specialized affirmations (though I never post more definitively scripted dreams online), I deliberately release my conscious presence, so my dream becomes instinctual (without conscious bias, allowing my dream’s narrative to render naturally), which is more intriguing and unique than by way of liminal modulation. (This term includes the sustaining of the duality and knowledge of causal factors between dream space and waking space.) It is overwhelmingly evident that most people lack any understanding of the dream state or its processes, but I try to write as clearly and as honestly as I can. I use specialized software to utilize as low a grade level (concerning readability) as possible for the content, making multiple passes. Despite my AI-reported performance, typically 100% (correctness, clarity, engagement, and delivery), that does not guarantee that my writing is entirely free of errors or ambiguity.

      Note two: Anything in my dream resulting from vestibular-cerebral handshakes and their instinctual, liminal, or lucid management, for example, a car, horse, robot, and so on, vary with which cortex is concurrently most active.

      Robots correlate more with cerebral cortex integration (and my liminal awareness that the physicality of the dream state is wholly imaginary). Physical forms such as animals (in this case, the zebras) correlate more with vestibular-cerebral passivity as I release my hold on liminality. I have experienced these results in thousands of my dreams since childhood, so there is no mystery as to their causal factors.


    2. Reluctant Sorcerer

      by , 06-13-2020 at 12:54 PM
      Morning of June 13, 2020. Saturday.

      Dream #: 19,535-03. Reading time: 2 min 56 sec.



      Although parts of this dream have influences from coronavirus associations as read in the media in waking life, there is, as usual, no dream self recall or concern about the pandemic, only three compartmentalized threads unlinked in my dreaming experience. The first is a reference to someone having a sore throat, the second relating to the claim I read in an article that bugs in a dream are “symbolic” of COVID-19 (and yet people have always dreamt of bugs long before this), and the third relating to stores being abandoned and boarded up (associated with media reports about rioting and looting as well as COVID-19).

      My dream self is a sorcerer in this imaginary scenario. My waking-life identity is absent even though I am in what is possibly a variation of the Hinkler Centre shopping mall though it also has the vague, ambiguous essence of my middle school and a shopping mall in La Crosse. An unfamiliar man and woman approach me. The man claims he got a sore throat from me. I tell him, “I never had a sore throat in my life.” (My dream self has no recall of ever having one, anyway.) I had supposedly been in service to them as a sorcerer, though I am unsure as to what he had wanted from me. He reminds me by giving me a card (about one and a half times bigger than a business card) that supposedly has their requests on it, though I do not read it.

      Even so, I am annoyed. I do not want to deal with these people, so I summon scarab beetles in their direction, though only a few crawl towards them. (This event is similar to one in a dream from April 14, 2020, though that was with comedic, sarcastic intent with ants.) I decide to leave the scene, now recalling I should be wearing different clothes (instinctual awareness of being undressed as I sleep).

      I walk out to the parking lot (liminality management) and notice most of the windows of the shopping mall are boarded up (another type of dream state liminality management, though with a more defined division between dream space and wakefulness). I want to get something from a store. I eventually find one store at the other end up the shopping mall that is not boarded up and is open. It is a grocery store with many shoppers. After I go in, I look around and realize I am not here to buy anything but to retrieve my clothes. (It makes no sense other than as specific co-occurrence with preparing to wake by being near a checkout with the association of getting dressed after getting out of bed. Once dreams are understood for what they are, there is no doubt as to their translation.)

      Instead of waking with this otherwise familiar process, my dream becomes exponentially more vivid. The vestibular-cerebral handshake kicks in to an extreme degree, and I find that I seem to be a young boy scout (and dressed the part, including with khaki shorts) even though I also have the recall I had been a sorcerer in the previous transition. Three men tower over me like giants, though I do not feel threatened or insecure. They are going on a fishing trip and are waiting for the man I wanted to avoid in the first dream segment. He eventually arrives and is huge. However, I summon a fireball and disintegrate him. The other “giants” do not seem to care and behave as if they are glad to be rid of him.

      Even so, I decide to instinctually initiate the next process. I turn and walk through the wall of a nearby building into a dark bedroom. However, one of the men from the previous scenario walks in, though he is now normal size, as I am. He is thankful for me getting rid of the other man but patronizes me by giving me a card addressing what he wants from me by way of sorcery. Soon, another man comes in and also gives me a card with his requests.

      I am then on the porch of my present home (liminality management) and wonder if I should wait for the third man to approach me in case he also has a card. Even so, I begin to feel that my dream is too ridiculous to continue, so I wake myself.


    3. The Interview in Antissa, with Sun Spiders

      by , 06-13-2020 at 11:25 AM
      Morning of June 13, 2020. Saturday.

      Dream #: 19,535-07. Reading time (optimized): 2 min.



      My dream self maintains the instinctual awareness I am dreaming (after dropping back from post-liminal mode to pre-liminal) by becoming more aware while sitting in a bed near the ocean (potential reinduction). There is the typical indoor-outdoor ambiguity, with my bed in this instance being near a harbor in Antissa, Lesbos, though the setting does not have a more discernible definition.

      My waking-life identity is absent. I am listening to an operatic aria (fictitious, I assume) sung by Luciano Pavarotti about Antissa. (I do not listen to opera in waking life.) I am unsure of the source of the music, but it is probably from a cassette (as my dream self has no recall of what a CD is).

      The sleep-wake manager eventually appears as an unknown male, but he is in passive mode (non-RAS; non-cerebral.) I sit down and watch him create a painting. It features a black oval as a scene of outer space. (This feature represents a higher level of sleep atonia, which may be why somatosensory kicks in as the trigger in the last scene rather than a vestibular event.) There are sparse red and blue ovular arcs around the “egg.” I absentmindedly add a blue ovular arc to the image’s right side with a felt-tip pen. Almost immediately, I feel as if I may have been intrusive in doing this. I start praising his art, focusing the most on the outer space rendering within the oval. He does not seem angry or annoyed.

      A reporter approaches and wants to interview the unknown artist. There is still indoor-outdoor ambiguity, though the setting has more outside dynamics at this point. The two men stand and face each other, about ten feet away from me. The reporter says he is interviewing “the aggressor.” I am puzzled by this and state that he is not an “aggressor,” though I do not know his history. I hope I did not embarrass him by saying this.

      Soon, a sun spider (camel spider), as long as the reporter’s head, crawls around from behind his head and covers his right ear. I am amused, as neither man seems to know it is there. Another sun spider of about the same size as the first crawls from behind the reporter’s head but goes around to the other man’s right ear. The man ignores it despite being aware of it. There is no sense of a threat, as my dream self considers them harmless. I wake at this point with a sense of great amusement.



      A vestibular-cerebral handshake did not occur as the waking process in this instance (as the result of greater sleep atonia but with a directive toward hand myoclonus), so it was somatosensory in this case. In other words, I sleep on my left side, with my right ear more exposed to my waking-life environment. The somatosensory focus was liminally drawn to that factor, especially as a spider often represents the human hand and its somatosensory arousal (though a sun spider is not a true spider).


      Categories
      non-lucid
    4. Commanding a Trailer to the Enchanted Forest

      by , 06-09-2020 at 07:26 AM
      Morning of June 9, 2020. Tuesday.

      Dream #: 19,531-02. Reading time (optimized) 3 min.



      My dream begins with indoor-outdoor ambiguity. Although I am in an unidentifiable rural park in Wisconsin before dawn, I am first near a wall that holds the essence of a room when my dream self becomes aware. I am listening to a vinyl LP with my thoughts being that I can change the wording of the spoken audio, which seems to be a business missive. It is as if I am editing and clarifying the implied text with my mind even though it is on a 33 1/3rd rpm record. At one point, I see the individual words on small movable virtual cutouts that I can rearrange on the record’s surface.

      I go to a small teardrop camper caravan a short distance away. (It is similar to the image, but its door faces the trailer hitch, and there are two sliding windows on each side.) I want to lie down inside it to rest, but I have to move several clusters of full beer cans that are on plastic yokes. (I have hardly ever drunk beer in my lifetime.) I eventually clear an area through the middle where my body fits, my head at the back. I open a sliding window a short distance, pulling it to the left, above my left, and appreciate the coolness of the fresh air flowing through the screen.

      Eventually, the little caravan starts moving. It is daylight now. Looking through the doorway, I see my brother-in-law Bob and my sister Marilyn in the front seat of a car that is pulling the trailer. (They are both deceased, but my dream self does not remember that.) Marilyn looks at Bob (who is driving), telling him that he forgot to unhitch the trailer, and she acknowledges me by looking back. Even so, he continues to drive to the Loomis Street house. I vividly feel the movement, especially as the car goes up a ramp to an overpass. When he drives near three semi-trailer trucks (on the right) that are emitting black smoke, I unhitch the trailer with bodily movement and mentally “drive” it down a different street, now while sitting up in its center. I consider this is legal, as there is a license plate at the back. Even though the caravan only has one pair of wheels, I successfully “drive” it to the Enchanted Forest (a fictitious recurring location in my dreams since childhood, though always different).

      I follow a boy down a hallway that opens into one section of the forest that is now part of a resort. There is an enclosed area with small monkeys and an eohippus (miniature prehistoric horse) here and there. One eohippus is lying on its left side (as I am in reality). I wonder if it is alive. The monkeys are only about eight inches tall. I pet a few of them.

      I instinctually vivify and sustain my dream by walking on the fence of the enclosure (a dream enhancement routine since childhood), increasing vestibular-cerebral perceptual integration. I look down to my left at a car with its doors open, wondering if the people think I am intruding upon their privacy. After I practice balancing for a few minutes, I jump back down into the animal enclosure.

      I discuss the Enchanted Forest with Locke, Sawyer, and Jack from the “Lost” television series. I describe a false memory regarding Jack driving me through an area of the region, which took a couple of days, being that it was of a different dimension that the rest of the resort. I tell them that one section is infinite.

      I call them over to look at a beautiful lake after going into “another world” through a door. We gaze at the extraordinary beauty. Several tourists are around, also appreciating the sight. I see a few small fish below the surface of the water and try to perceive more. The vividness and detail are unfathomable.

      After several minutes of appreciation, my dream begins to transition again to an instinctual awareness of my body being horizontal in bed, as well as a need to initiate waking (for me to get up and use the bathroom). As a result, I try to open a couple of bathroom doors, but Locke yells about needing to elude someone. It is Rowena King from “Emergence.” We all rapidly crawl on our bellies as does she, though she remains about ten feet behind us. We all crawl quickly on white sand underneath the underside of an unfinished building’s floor as I wake.


    5. Frank N. Stein

      by , 06-01-2020 at 04:16 PM
      Morning of February 9, 1971. Tuesday.

      Dream #: 1,513-02. Reading time (optimized): 1 min.



      I am at West Elementary School in Arcadia and walking to the building from the playground. I see lightning inside the main school building in the western area when looking north. Although it is a sunny morning, it is dark and stormy inside the classroom, though I do not see any of my schoolmates or teachers, only what appears to be a crude version of Doctor Frankenstein’s laboratory.

      Later, I am sitting in a taxi in the back seat on the left-hand side. The driver turns around and reveals himself to be Frankenstein’s monster. His name is Frank N. Stein, which I read on a card above the steering wheel, to its left. Nothing frightening happens. It seems more like a puzzling comedic event. The narrative is ambiguous, as even though I am getting a taxi home, the school day has not started yet.



      Now I ask for reasonable intelligence to understand how to decode this dream. Frankenstein’s monster awakened by way of electricity that could also be analogous to neuronal energy. It represents my own waking process and nothing more. The ambiguity of the narrative also correlates with the realization that I am not starting the school day because I am asleep.



      My dream’s influence was probably from Shock Armstrong, the late-night television horror host of “Shock Theatre” from Channel 13 in Tampa, Florida (from 1964-1968). (There was a similar scenario I saw in a humor magazine later in my life; a gag about the ID not looking like the driver).




    6. Dream Journal Paradigm 2020, i, fire and more

      by , 06-01-2020 at 09:39 AM
      Afternoon of May 24, 2020. Sunday.

      Reading time (optimized): 4 min.



      Fire, lightning, electricity, wiring, circuits, lasers, candles, lightbulbs, flashlights, headlights, sunbeams, and the sun are fundamental characteristic features of the cortical arousal of the waking process and represent the increase of neuronal energy and the emergence of consciousness for anyone who legitimately understands the dream state.

      Although the same transitions occur every sleep cycle, they stabilize with uniqueness in vivid liminal sleep-wake management. Here, I will include the modulatory factor in the upper case, a description of the relevant dream content, and the ultradian implication (with virtual or literal melatonin or serotonin mediation). My goal is to find correlations I had not previously noticed (to develop more clarity of mind, though, as there are more than 20,000 examples of this form of dream state management, it is not feasible to include more variables at this time. I may study them in pairs of variables at a later date, though I have found all major statistical curves and causal factors for most dream content over 50 years.)

      Before I describe the many unique and intriguing versions of this process, I will begin with including my lifelong activity of pulling myself out of undefined liminal space (that has no imagery and seems integrated with enigmatic space) by summoning an unseen candle, perceiving my emerging consciousness as a candle flame. When this happens as a result of sleep apnea (though which is rare), and no vestibular-cerebral handshake (viable body-mind agreement), it is the only type of dreaming experience where I feel genuine fear. Variations of it are rare. One variation occurred in December of 1969. In addition to sustaining my consciousness as the essence of a candle flame, I also absentmindedly summoned an unseen dragon that roared and breathed fire. (Undefined liminal space never contains imagery. Also, the duality as a result of being between dreaming space and waking space is far less in this state. That is likely what causes a sense of dread.)

      19690519. FIRE. Toby and I rescue Brenda from her burning house, though it is erroneously on the school grounds. Dark, before dawn. (Includes audio near the waking point: “You boys are wonderful!”)

      19710209. LIGHTNING. Frankenstein’s monster is the driver of a taxi I get into (though I do not notice until I am sitting in it in the back seat, left side). I see lightning flashing only inside the school in the early morning on a clear day. There is a sense of amusement rather than a threat. As a school is associated with learning, the lightning represents potential wakefulness and is analogous to the monster rising from his bed. The taxi is analogous with my physical body, of which I do not yet have control, as I am asleep in reality. Otherwise, summoning vehicles as I often do, is more about increasing my imaginary physicality to enhance and sustain the dream state.

      19710516. LIGHTNING and FIRE. A bolt of lightning comes down and strikes a church belfry in the distance, setting it afire, while I am on the otherwise empty school grounds with my mother. Dark, before dawn. (Includes audio: I say, "It’s not my fault” to my mother.) It is essentially a visual and visually exaggerated version of the candle-lighting process.

      19740127. SPARKS and FIRE. I am at my middle school with my GI Joe jeep, though it is erroneously a remote control toy (confused with my remote control orange Volkswagon). Low lighting in the cafeteria. At first, I seem to be operating it, but the narrative changes. Sparks and fire begin near the gas pedal when it stops, but it does not spread. A moving vehicle (analogous to the body) typically represents the anticipation of a vestibular-cerebral handshake, and I often summon vehicles in all modes of dreaming. The fire near the gas pedal anticipates atonia to myoclonus, which is often a spontaneous leg kick with waking.

      19791106. FIRE. In a parking lot (management of liminality during an absent vestibular-cerebral handshake), I see a car erupt into flames as its unknown owner enters it (though I feel no emotion or sense of dread). Curiously, as a result, the car reveals what looks like an oversized human ribcage that had been its top and sides. Nighttime, low light. It is a direct validation that a vehicle is analogous to the human body.

      19820905. ANTHROPOMORPHIC LIGHTNING (ELECTRICITY). Early morning setting. An imp, about a foot tall, lives inside the kitchen cabinet under the sink. He seems to be made of electricity, though he maintains a sketchy human form and monitors the plumbing (seemingly with the pipe missing). Although he seems mischievous, I do not feel threatened. Later, I see Earl in the back of a car in a parking lot (liminal space management). He is instead the disabled man from a real advertisement in which he had said, “I’m a little tired. I’m alright though,” when rising from the water in an Olympic-size pool. It ties in with how the “electric imp” was a simulacrum of melatonin mediation. (The clue is the statement “I’m a little tired,” though unspoken in the dream, meaning I am sleeping, as water signifies the dream state’s dynamics.)

      19901209 FIRE. I see the front-left heating element on the stove catch fire for no discernible reason in the otherwise dark Loomis Street kitchen. I feel no sense of threat. (Audio: An unknown girl exclaims “Fire!”) This variation of the candle flame summoning has an association with the area underneath the stove element as a virtual portal deeper into dream space.

      20160222. CANDLE FLAME. I summon a giant candle to undo the magic of a male cult leader. (Audio: “…and now a golden candle, taller than me, appears here.”) (My dream was extremely long with a complex narrative.)



      I include these detailed explanatory factors with each relevant series about my fundamental dreaming habits and their inherent dream-based meanings, so I can remove the more extensive redundancies from past entries (on my two main online dream journals), and keep this introductory page as a public reference for future entries.


    7. Of One of Four Dolls

      by , 05-28-2020 at 10:15 AM
      Of One of Four Dolls

      Morning of May 28, 2020. Thursday.

      Dream #: 19,519-02. Reading time (optimized): 3 min 30 sec.



      My dream’s initial setting is a unique variation of our current home (with much of my waking-life identity viably modeled), but the focus is mainly on a distortion of the second house from ours. (That house has been empty for a long time in waking life.) Zsuzsanna and I are going to go and look at the inside of the house. I remember it is smaller than ours, but in my dream, it is unrealistically inadequate at first. However, in the final scenario, the setting is a mostly empty lounge room that is bigger than our lounge room.

      When I am in the house in its lounge room (before it transitions to its larger size), I consider how the back room, as the house only seems to have two, has walls covered with an unusual dark material. It is somewhat like pairs of insect wings evenly and vertically covering all of the walls, additionally reminiscent of fish scales. It seems to be a result of the room being unused for so long, giving the impression of unsuitability for a potential tenant.

      I eventually notice four dolls standing in a row. Each is about a foot high. I focus my attention on one that represents a girl wearing roller skates. This precursor to the vestibular-cerebral handshake (the fundamental waking process to alert the sleeping mind to comprehend physical awareness to move and rise from bed) exponentially vivifies my dream, as is usually the case, even when witnessed rather than inherited.

      Although the doll can stand on its own, it seems to be somewhat rickety at first. There is a button below its chest that will activate it. When I press and rub it, the doll continues to quiver (which results in a vestibular-somatosensory-cerebral handshake, vivifying my dream to the next stage) but soon rolls away, moving in an arc.

      My auditory cortex becomes active as the final dynamic of the cortical handshake. The doll vividly speaks in a young female voice as it circles the room. “Ooh, I am moving. Ooh, what’s that? Ooh, it’s a box.” The doll bumps into an empty cardboard box that matches its height, though immediately turns, rolls a short distance, and bumps into another one opposite the first.



      I awake with a slightly shaky feeling from being overheated.

      Most dream content (excluding liminal and enigmatic integration as well as modulation by my conscious self identity) is always a unique rendering of the same waking processes, simple as that, that is, imaginary compensation for the vestibular-cerebral handshake (and as here, additional somatosensory cortex and auditory cortex activity). Ever since I was a child, it has remained mind-boggling that I have rarely seen anyone comprehend this no matter how clearly it has been explained and validated thousands of times since I first wrote extensively about dreams at age eight.



      I will present here another rundown on this in my 5,100th Internet entry.

      Dream content is fundamentally co-occurrent with the dream state. As explained many times before, “Similarly, he (Herbert Silberer) has shown that the conclusions of some dreams or some divisions in their content merely signify the dreamer’s own perception of his sleeping and waking…in persons who are gifted philosophically and accustomed to introspection it may become very evident.”



      It should be self-evident that the shaky doll was a simulacrum of my emerging awareness of my physicality that needed addressing. It was upright and on roller skates (in contrast to my concurrent physical status), with similarity to my “Annabelle” dreaming experience from March 4, 2020. In that instance, the doll was bigger. Additionally, I decided to wear roller skates to enjoy the vestibular experience.



      Now, some clarification to wrap it all up.

      Why was the activation button below the doll’s chest? It was because of co-occurrence with my mild indigestion, where I typically press on or rub the same area for some relief.

      Why was the doll on roller skates? This feature is the result of vestibular cortex activity that has not quite correlated with the emergence of my physical status during REM sleep (the same factor that causes sleep starts, in other words, the transition of atonia to myoclonus).

      What is with the empty cardboard boxes? They are concurrent with the absence of full cortical integration, as virtual walls always are in the dream state, and ultimately with every other factor of liminal modulation. (For example, one person told me how he crashes through a wall to wake himself, though I often use a virtual door, and one of my more vivid early childhood dreams ended with a bull crashing through a wall. There is no need to pretend it “means” something else.)

      What about the small room in the back with peculiar walls? I just explained what “walls” are, but the pairs of insect wings are more about a potential increase in neural energy. Their dormancy correlates with the absence of a cortical handshake and no anticipated myoclonus at that point.

      Why was the doll female? I am more likely to associate a doll with feminine attributes, even though it is an analogy of how my body does not move while sleeping. However, I have not done the thousands of correlations needed to confirm that vestibular simulacrums are more often female than male.


      Updated 05-28-2020 at 10:40 AM by 1390

      Categories
      non-lucid
    8. Jackie Gleason in Stormland

      by , 05-26-2020 at 12:01 PM
      Morning of May 26, 2020. Tuesday.

      Dream #: 19,517-01. Reading time (optimized): 3 min.



      My dream self grows instinctually aware and active during the usual process that determines a handler for cortical arousal (initially my vestibular cortex). In this dream, it is Jackie Gleason, the primary influence being the moonrise (dream state initiation) in the television series “The Honeymooners.” (I will emphasize a fundamental causal factor here. Because being in the dream state has a similar level of cortical dormancy and sensory deprivation as when watching television or a movie, a celebrity is often the virtual handler of my waking transition.)

      An unknown male is with me to my right (waking status personification, mainly inactive). In a big undefined room, two unfamiliar men are standing and talking, facing each other, with the implication we are watching a movie, though we are present and sitting cross-legged at the scene (a common dream state ambiguity). One man is playing the role of a young and thin Jackie Gleason. For a few minutes, we are trying to work out which man is playing him. Eventually, it becomes obvious. It is the man on the left, who has dark curly hair.

      The identity determinant results in initiating the next stage of my dream and vivifies it. My dream self handler (again, vestibular cortex) is Jackie Gleason. Even so, I am still only a witness to the scenario. The Sistine Chapel is in ruins, though only as in another world. An unknown male with a staff controls the lightning (neural energy while in the dream state) to send individuals into the other world. He first does this to an unknown woman (a quantum model of Zsuzsanna, as my waking-life identity is absent). I watch her wander around alone. The storm is not threatening.

      Eventually, the anticipated myoclonus factor becomes pre-liminal. Jackie Gleason stands in the center of the ruins and wants to find the unknown woman to confirm her status and bring her back if possible. The expectation of the transition is by way of flight (as has usually been the case since childhood). There is no roof on the ruins of the building, to allow for the vestibular management of this process. (I am sleeping on my back in this instance, which usually results in vertical dream state processing rather than horizontal as with, for example, using a door to exit my dream).

      A pterodactyl flies down as the vestibular processing simulacrum. Jackie Gleason stands there, but nothing happens. They stare at each other, but the pterodactyl eventually unexpectedly flies off instead of carrying him into the next world.

      As a result of no myoclonus or viable consciousness emergence, cortical arousal instead establishes a vivid offset dream that serves as a false awakening, and I am now lying on my back on the front lawn of our current home in the late morning. Zsuzsanna is standing to my left. (She is awake in reality, standing to my left in our lounge room.) I can see the front of our house and the sky. Dark clouds, lightning, and rain are fast approaching from the south. I am concerned about my dream journal getting wet (as it is on the lawn near me), but I have difficulty moving quickly enough. Eventually, I can get up and wake while doing this.



      Here are some similar examples of this dreaming process that has occurred every sleep cycle for over 50 years:

      Ralph Waite (as in “The Mississippi” television series from the 1980s), referring to a book, talks about the vestibular cortex processing in initiating consciousness (though I do not discern the specific details), summons a giant sparrow, and flies off on its back. (November 7, 2018.)

      An unknown woman and her daughter (quantum model of Zsuzsanna and our youngest daughter) receive a book from Rodan. (Rodan has a similar appearance as a pterodactyl.) The book is enormous (as tall as the woman) and is about dream state processes. (May 21, 2020.)

      A giant white dove (with a red heart symbol on its chest) emerges from the entrance of the Arcadia post office and approaches me as I stand outside facing the building. I hold onto a sword engulfed in blue fire, but there is no threat. (February 9, 1991, part of a longer dream with enigmatic communication with Zsuzsanna before we met in waking life, foreshadowing the letter she wrote to me. I arrived in Australia on February 9, 1994. An American postage stamp, #2814C, featuring a white dove and a red heart made of roses came out on February 14, 1994.)


    9. Naiad Overdrive

      by , 05-22-2020 at 10:28 AM
      Morning of May 22, 2020. Friday.

      Dream #: 19,513-02. Reading time: 1 min 50 sec.



      In instinctual dreaming mode, though not long after a lucid transition and cessation, I am in an unknown second-floor apartment that has the erroneous implication of being where we presently live. Five cardboard boxes are adjacent to one wall. They contain belongings of an unfamiliar woman Zsuzsanna knows, but since we are supposedly moving, we will remove her possessions first.

      When the unfamiliar male removalist arrives (as a typical passive sleep-wake manager), I help him put the boxes into the back of his van even though they are not very big. I arrange them in two stacks of three and two, which is interesting, as, although the boxes change size and shape (regarding height and width contrast) several times, the number of them does not change, which suggests cognizance is becoming active.

      I talk with him about having worked on a garbage route, and he expresses amusement in how I describe walking in a landfill and the ground giving way when empty cardboard boxes are just beneath the surface. What I am describing is an analogy of losing consciousness when falling asleep as well as not having lucidity, and as a result, instinctual reinduction jumps to a pre-liminal focus.

      I am in the apartment again. I have four galvanized metal washtubs filled with water and sitting on the floor. I pick a water lily off a plant from another area and put it on the water’s surface. It sinks slightly, and I wonder if too much organic material is missing for it to grow. I put another blossom on the surface of the water in the second washtub. Eventually, I see what looks like seaweed swirling in the water. A girl (Naiad) emerges from each washtub.

      I have a cylindrical segment of a big branch (or small log) with a carved recess of a scene that features a miniature house and yard. I put this in the fourth washtub after putting an oversized jeweled Easter egg in the third. Two additional Naiads emerge, one seemingly the leader. All of them are wearing white gowns.

      The Naiad leader stands close to me and eventually starts talking about a human male she once knew. I see a depiction on a small viewscreen floating in the air, showing their history, the speed of which seems accelerated. A red letter x appears and vanishes on each of her cheeks (in the video) numerous times, indicating where he kissed her.



      Although a letter x supposedly means a kiss (what I have heard much of my life), there is also the contradicting claim that letter o means a kiss (as puckering lips), not letter x, and that an x represents two people hugging. It can also mean a sworn oath and has ties to Christianity in the Middle Ages.


    10. Big Books and a Big Greek Coin

      by , 05-10-2020 at 05:00 PM
      Morning of May 10, 2020. Sunday.

      Dream #: 19,501-03. Reading time (optimized): 2 min.



      My dream self lacks any waking-life references (and as usual, there is no recall of the present state of the world), though I become interested in a couple of big books with ambiguous content in an unknown but mostly undefined setting. I treat them as mine.

      The first section of the books seems to feature summaries of dream content, the second, various comic strips (“Blondie” being the one I focus on more), and the third seeming like the Yellow Pages of a phone book. I read a “Blondie” comic strip at the top of a left-hand page, atypically of only two panels, the second panel featuring a winter scene in a city. There is a scene that briefly seems to be in a “real” setting when I am looking at the front of the residence where Dagwood and Blondie live. I consider meeting Dagwood and going to parts of his house that no one (including the Bumsteads) had ever seen. (In a previous dream, I was at a party with Dagwood, his boss Mr. Dithers, and Blondie, and they appeared mainly as in the comic strip.)

      Imaginary somatosensory cortex dynamics initiate but link to a static form of the vestibular cortex model (in contrast to “Fun with Rockets and Alien Spaceships” from May 1) and no dynamic foundation of myoclonus (waking start or falling trigger).

      As a result, I find myself with an old Greek coin, the one that features the Owl of Athena (a flight reference for my dream’s waking transition as always occurs with this mode of dreaming). (One of the last static versions of this process was a sketchy drawing of a crow appearing in a mirror in “Sophie the Ghost” from May 3.) Even so, the coin is about three times bigger than an American quarter and possibly hollow.

      Although the coin is too big to be real, I briefly consider it genuine and valuable. I plan to show it to this dream’s unseen sleep-wake manager (an unknown male), but before I reach him, I see “Athens” to the lower right of the owl relief in uppercase. I read it clearly, and it does not change over time. I consider the coin cannot be genuine because of “Athens” being in English. I wake upon realizing this.



      This dream stems from childhood dreaming practices in which I tried to hold onto a summoned coin to awake with it (and of course, it never worked, although I sometimes woke while pinching my pillowcase). The process (and its absentminded expectation by way of the virtuous circle effect of dreaming practices) has occurred in thousands of my dreams, sometimes with a static link to myoclonus associations as here.



      I will include another example from 2017 when I sat at a table with Les Gold (of “Hardcore Pawn”), and we were discussing a fictitious 1970 limited edition American quarter that featured the outline of Jonathan Livingston Seagull. We talked of how the coin was unpopular, with similar notoriety as the American Susan B. Anthony Dollar.


      Categories
      non-lucid
    11. Sophie the Ghost

      by , 05-03-2020 at 01:10 PM
      Morning of May 3, 2020. Sunday.

      Dream #: 19,494-01. Reading time (optimized): 2 min.



      In this dream from late morning, I maintain precursory liminality after I re-enter sleep. As a result, I recall Zsuzsanna and a few of my waking-life associations (including the instinctual perception of being in bed), though I lose recall of what a dream is (as I ordinarily do in this mode). Even so, it starts with my focus on our bed, but the setting is undefined at first. As Zsuzsanna and I are standing in a different room, I watch the sheet on the bed lift by itself and move back as if manipulated by an invisible person. (Note that this correlates with the management of precursory liminality and has happened in many previous dreams.)

      Zsuzsanna and I walk into the unknown bedroom, and I am astounded by the realistic detail and precise rendering of the events (a thought process that never occurs in waking life - how many people, for example, would watch a car go down the street in waking life while thinking, “Wow, that looks so realistic”). Over time, my dream resolves the room as having the essence of the Barolin Street house’s lounge room (where a bed never was in waking life).

      Eventually, the supposed ghost of a teenage girl is present and is responsible for the previous inexplicable activity. Her name is Sophie.

      “Are you the same Sophie from years ago?” I ask her, but my question does not make much sense. She cheerfully confirms that she is by nodding. (She is an older version of Sophie Wender from John Wyndham’s “The Chrysalids,” also published as “Re-Birth.”) I move my hands through her hair, saying how “realistic” it seems as imaginary somatosensory dynamics increase exponentially. (Note that in a different recent dream, this same process resulted in removing sandspurs from a resting wolf’s fur.)

      Eventually, with Zsuzsanna still in the room, another supposed ghost materializes. This one is Marcella Boyland from Daniel F. Galouye’s “Tonight the Sky Will Fall,” though I do not interact with her as much.

      The need to wake to use the bathroom integrates into my dream’s content, resulting in liminal management and its personification as an unknown male ghost married to Sophie, a status previously unbeknown to me. (His manifestation annoys me, as Sophie is “mine,” but discarding the waking transition would be unwise.) As a result, I gaze into a mirror (though I do not see myself at any point, as the mirror is higher than my line of sight), with liminal drop anticipation. From this, the sketchy drawing of a crow fills the mirror, part of it including random zigzagging lines.

      “Can ghosts influence what people see?” I absentmindedly ask the male. “I had that mirror back when I lived in Chicago,” says the male, which is the usual nonsensical response to questions asked in liminal mode. (Ghosts typically result from liminal management with waking-life identity being “incomplete” when between dreaming and waking.)

      The “ghost” walks into the bathroom, causing me to realize that I need to wake up and go.


      Categories
      non-lucid
    12. Pulling Sandspurs from a Wolf’s Fur

      by , 05-02-2020 at 08:47 AM
      Pulling Sandspurs from a Wolf’s Fur

      Morning of May 2, 2020. Saturday.

      Dream #: 19,493-02. Reading time (optimized): 2 min 30 sec.



      I am sitting on the floor in the living room of a unique variation of the Loomis Street house near the front door. An unfamiliar man is present to my right (closest to the door). I am stroking the fur of a wolf that is lying on his left side. For a time, everything is relaxing and uneventful.

      Somehow, I get sandspurs stuck on me, and they immediately form at least two lines on the wolf’s fur, closest to his back. I determine that they had come from an area on the carpeted floor to my left. I become annoyed, as now I have to pull each sandspur from the wolf’s fur. As I do this, I complain to the man that I had not been outside recently, so they could not have come from me.

      As a result of my sense of touch increasing exponentially for a few minutes and establishing a higher level of (somatosensory) cortical arousal, my dream processing changes to a scene where I look out at a parking lot setting from a doorway. A few unknown people are walking around, but a man with an unrealistically big head appears and dances about irritatingly. Using a combination of telekinesis and mentally willing more sandspurs into existence, I cover his body with sandspurs from more than ten feet away as I wake.



      Get the truth about my dream and some of its familiar causal factors here:

      My dream’s first scene is a unique but familiar form of a process that occurs at least once every sleep cycle. Often, the first discernible rendering is a result of my instinctual awareness I am dreaming. For example, the wolf is resting on his left side, co-occurrent with my sleeping orientation. The unknown man is to my right, co-occurrent with (in this case, subliminal) environmental monitoring (as my right side is more exposed to my real environment).

      Wolves, bears, lions, and most other kinds of animals still occur in my dreams regularly, often as an animal semblance of my reticular activating system as here. However, their nature typically correlates with the ultradian rhythm curve of my sleep cycle. (For example, I had this dream after sunrise, and wolves are nocturnal, and that is how I perceive them.)

      Despite my waking-life identity being absent from my dream, there are incidental compartmentalized associations with the coronavirus. (Even so, I have not yet had a dreaming experience with a viable recall of the pandemic. The processing factors of my dreams have not changed at all.) For example, although I have dreamt of cenchrus (sandspurs) before, they have vague visual similarity with the coronavirus. Removing sandspurs from the wolf’s fur also stems from a distortion of Zsuzsanna removing them from one of our cats (a typical synthesized distortion to prevent confusing dream content with waking life).

      A parking lot usually only occurs in the last scene of a dream in the last dream of a sleep cycle as liminality begins to increase during the waking transition, and it signifies the status of awareness between dream space and precursory waking space. One association is parked vehicles (the body being motionless in bed). In the real world, a parking lot also represents liminal space.

      The man with the big head is a liminal association with a YouTube video I saw yesterday, supposedly featuring a caricature of UK Prime Minister Boris Johnson in bed with the virus (with doctors and nurses dancing around) even though it was part of the 2012 Olympics opening ceremony. The character is “out of bed” in my dream as signifying me getting out of bed after waking.



      Ultimately, despite my dreams likely seeming surreal to the average person, they are almost always extraordinarily easy for me to decode and resolve.


      Categories
      non-lucid
    13. Fun with Rockets and Alien Spaceships

      by , 05-02-2020 at 07:27 AM
      Morning of May 1, 2020. Friday.

      Dream #: 19,492-02. Reading time (optimized): 1 min 30 sec.



      My dream’s foundation is a result of imaginary somatosensory modulation, but atypical. (I often cup my hand around a vertical bar of the head of our bed for this.) Ordinarily, I summon an egg to increase a dream’s illusory sense of touch (other than in a later rendering of a dream’s timeline when it is more often coins), the reason being that an egg is a perfect size to focus on the area of my palm and the underside of my fingers when I cup my hand. This type of modulation is usually in an indoor setting. However, in this instance, there is a precursory vestibular perception that results in the common sky-watching scenario, though in this case, it is seemingly in the late morning rather than before dawn.

      Over time, I see a flying saucer high in the sky. Many other people are around in a mostly featureless field. I focus on creating small rockets to blow up any spaceships.

      The exponential increase in my dream’s illusory sense of touch stems from the middle of a small rocket first materializing in my cupped right hand. The top and bottom of the miniature missile telescope from each side, coming into existence with minimal effort in my summoning the feature. It is partially reminiscent of a toy plastic rocket I had as a boy that comes apart in sections.

      I mentally cause the missile to ignite and leave my hand to destroy a flying saucer. Even though it is less than a foot long, I have a close view of when it reaches the spacecraft (as if looking through a virtual telescope). I enjoy the explosion (as I usually do in this mode of dreaming).

      Over time, as more spaceships appear, I indulge in the same activity, several times, enjoying my pointless entertainment. I experiment with different visualizations and anticipation of the results. At one point, I send my rocket to a feature with the resemblance of a rocket booster (similar to the rectangular aft skirts in some science-fiction movies). From there, the rocket goes inside the middle of the spacecraft to blow it up.



      I ordinarily only end up doing things like this when I lose interest in sustaining sleep for longer, concerning creating a new dream scenario.


      Categories
      non-lucid
    14. Summoning Wrenches and a Gold Bar

      by , 04-24-2020 at 09:30 AM
      Morning of April 21, 2020. Tuesday.

      Dream #: 19,482-02. Reading time (optimized): 2 min.



      This dream is a typical random summoning type in instinctual mode, not much different as those from early childhood on, though in this one, I atypically abandon the usual vestibular system correlation in the last scene to remain in my dream (though there is no drop anticipation other than a lesser form stemming from my relaxed arm muscles during sleep, when I release the wrenches with liminal somatosensory integration), though, as a result, my dream self’s perceptual mode becomes incorporeal and non-dimensional, resulting in an exponential decrease in vividness, and I meander in slow flight (about four feet above the street) back through the unknown neighborhood, considering if I should reset my dream and start the narrative again or wake. I decide to wake.

      The main scene relates to using telekinesis to rapidly summon items into my hand to augment my dream’s imaginary somatosensory dynamics. I do this in an unfamiliar office building with one large room. I mostly summon random items, primarily wrenches of different sizes, an association with adjusting sleep-wake management.

      I have an association with gold coins to augment the process. However, as an incidental influence from having seen “Outer Banks” recently, a small gold bar (about the same size as in the Netflix series) quickly jumps into my hand from underneath papers strewn on a desk. I maintain a cheerful disposition. Other people are walking around but I do not interact with them. The sleep-wake manager, as an unknown male, enters my dream’s narrative as a result of a lesser association with the imaginary proprioception of dreaming. (A car is an extension of this, correlating with the imaginary physical body and its dynamics while dreaming.)

      I get into a car with him driving and my dream vivifies, with an increase in imaginary proprioception. I sit in the front while others sit in the back. It is assumed to be occurring in America, as the driver’s side is on the left. We travel through an unfamiliar neighborhood and I have no destination in mind (and not much of my waking-life identity is extant). After a time, I instinctually play around with the process. I give the sleep-wake manager the wrenches I had summoned. (I often hold a vertical bar of the bed’s head while sleeping, which increases the somatosensory dynamics of the dream state.) However, they fall through a narrow space between the front seats. I give him my gold bar.

      I phase from the car, losing my sense of imaginary proprioception and defined illusory physicality as I remain in my dream in incorporeal non-dimensional flight for a few minutes as described earlier. There are variations of the process. I sometimes phase through the roof of a vehicle, though I phased through the door in this instance. Phasing from the roof to fly is more likely to vivify a dream, though in one recent dream, I stayed on a bus as it dropped a full story to a perpendicular street below, vivifying and sustaining my dream for several minutes.


      Categories
      non-lucid
    15. Ocean Imagery Strips and Ford Model T Convertible

      by , 04-18-2020 at 09:42 AM
      Morning of April 18, 2020. Saturday.

      Dream #: 19,479-03. Reading time (optimized): 2 min 15 sec.



      My imagined dream self becomes instinctually aware of my dream beginning, including a viable thread of waking-life identity. As a result, the first rendering is a female form close to my left, modeling the sleeping orientation of Zsuzsanna and me, though she remains standing while I remain seated in a cross-legged position. She is a short distance closer to the wayside of an unknown road than I am. It seems to be nighttime. On the other side of the road, off to the right, is an unfamiliar business building. Feelings of cheerfulness and peace remain throughout my dream. (The eventual sleep-wake personification, firstly as an association with imaginary proprioception, is not intrusive other than wanting me to move from the side of the road to return to slow-wave sleep).

      Instinctual dynamics of dream state management begin. On my lap is an open sheet music book, though the sheet music displayed is unknown. Upon that is a tablet with another one atop it. The first features equidistant thumbnails from a web site, mostly of random people, and the second displays a blank screen. Atop the tablets is an open A4 spiral notebook with my handwriting describing dream content as well as equations.

      The inference is that I am solving equations using the sheet music book (mainly the arrangement of notes) and the web page thumbnails, which supposedly link to the content of previous dreams and six-digit numbers that serve as markers. The first calculation produces an image of the ocean on the previously blank screen, though it is a small strip, oriented lengthways near the top of the screen.

      The second calculation results in an additional lengthways photograph of the ocean, and I am fascinated when it matches perfectly with the first when adjacent to the right side of the previous image. Although the image never moves, there is still the fundamental liminal impression that it defines my status of being asleep and the absence of physical demarcation. I start to consider what will happen when the strips fill the entire top of the screen. They will probably continue to a new row. This identification and anticipation results in the summoning of imaginary proprioception and latent physical preparedness (which usually begins around this part of a dream’s timeline, though here, there is no anticipation of vestibular system ambiguity from the lack of discernment of physicality while sleeping).

      The sleep-wake personification initiates from my right. An unknown man drives a Ford Model T Convertible into the area on the other side of the road. (Cars, as with all vehicles, typically correlate with the imaginary physicality of the dream state or preparation for wakefulness with emerging physical awareness and mobility potential.) He cheerfully calls out, implying I am blocking his way even though I am not on the road. (This scenario is also co-occurrent with how I am sleeping close to Zsuzsanna, as the other man is a preconscious personification of my potential consciousness and emerging physical awareness. This same causal factor has occurred in many previous dreams.)

      I move back a short distance, but the man parks his car near the business building and walks over to my side of the road. He looks at the items in my lap and seems curious about what I am doing.

      I absentmindedly state, “I’m doing sequences of fractals.”

      “I can’t even do one,” he says happily, emphasizing “one.”


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