• Lucid Dreaming - Dream Views




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    Blue_Opossum

    1. To Retrieve a Sacred Wedding Stick

      by , 11-14-2018 at 09:51 AM
      Morning of November 14, 2018. Wednesday.

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



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

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

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

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

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

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


      Categories
      lucid
    2. Beautiful Wondrous Rain

      by , 11-10-2018 at 09:08 AM
      Morning of November 10, 2018. Saturday.

      Dream #: 18,954-02. Reading time: 2 min 26 sec. Readability score: 66.



      I am looking at a map of the island of Sulawesi (Celebes) with its very unusual shape. I notice an isolated fictitious town with the name of “Core” that is otherwise where Central, West, and South Sulawesi meet. There are mostly only native inhabitants there. I project my dream self into the map to create the foundation of my dream. I decide I will play the role of introducing new opportunities and resources to the region.

      At one point, I mentally create diced pineapples in a bowl and the tribal leader enjoys them. I reassure him that I will only allow a few tourists to come to the area only during certain time periods and that I will have my team clean the region on a regular basis.

      At another point, several soldiers, all in black, come to occupy the area. I mentally create an army that comes in from a ship and wipes them all out.

      I decide to go on a journey to Los Angeles. An unfamiliar backpacker asks if he can go with us, and I say yes. I enjoy the idea of a random dream denizen (almost as if I see him as “real” or having perception) being on my ship in my dream. Although the trip is supposed to last several days, we arrive there within minutes. I try to make the ocean waves more interesting. In the distance, there seem to be huge “curtains.”

      I alter the nature and progression of my dream with the intent of increasing my dream state awareness. I create rain to sustain and vivify my dream to astounding levels (as water and its specific dynamics has always been a natural melatonin factor of the dream state). The weight and coolness of the water is incredibly realistic. I slowly fly in standing position above an unknown town in semidarkness. I marvel at the pleasurable sensations of the rain that falls upon my skin and the realistic, vivid sound of rain all around me. I fly slowly over a small canal with culverts on each end.

      I eventually land and bring out the sun. I walk down a wooden sidewalk and notice the nexus simulacrum (personified preconscious) going through a doorway built adjacent to the building on my right but of which goes to the intersection, but I mentally force him to turn around. I ask him, “What is your name?” He looks puzzled and in a hurry. “What is your name?” I ask him two more times, in case there is an interconsciousness thread present.

      I maintain the expectation that the nexus simulacrum may have a level of transpersonal intelligence that may not originate from my dream self.

      He answers with “Dennis Sunimun.” I let him leave, as he seems late for a business meeting. Still, “Dennis” is the name of my brother and “Sunimun” is an obvious distortion of “sunny man.” I was hoping for something more, evidence of intelligence beyond my own, which has been present in certain previous dreams.

      I reset my dream, with the possibility I will wake myself, but I end up in an offset dream of lesser vividness. Still, I make my way to a library to write down the event. I walk through midair, about ten feet above the street, with a few random people.

      In the library, I read handwritten details in a notebook. I write “Dennis Sunimun” several times, but when I look each time, I am not sure if it is clear enough to carry over into my conscious memory and I try writing it again. Finally, I go into another area of the library and walk out with my family.


      Categories
      lucid
    3. Cuckoo Clock Puzzle House

      by , 11-09-2018 at 12:45 PM
      Morning of November 2, 2018. Friday.

      Dream #: 18,946-03. Reading time (optimized): 1 min. Readability score: 68.



      In my dream, I am in the living room of the King Street mansion (which served as a boarding house). I am focused upon the cuckoo clock on the south wall (erroneous location). It seems to be late morning. The owners are presently out, possibly on vacation.

      I want to get to my apartment (in this case the middle room of the east side of the mansion on the second floor), but there is no door. I am using the cuckoo clock as a replica of the house, where it is somewhat like a virtual Chinese puzzle box. I must turn certain sections of the clock to correlate with the real doors of the house. There are also sections that move in and out like slots.

      I consider that I may not still be living here (on a rental basis) and that I want to be in my bedroom before the owners return. I maintain a cheerful attitude even though the entry points of the clock do not perfectly match that of the house itself.



      My dream had the typical dream state components:

      The cuckoo clock (association with flight and the vestibular system correlation of the waking process).

      The clock theme itself (ultradian and circadian rhythm of the sleep cycle).

      The puzzle, and solving it (nature of enigmatic space, where the dream self identity and the conscious self identity are still separate).

      Getting to a bedroom (literal bed space strand and subliminal awareness of being in the dream state, becoming liminal prior to waking).


      Categories
      non-lucid
    4. Motorcycle Mishap

      by , 11-09-2018 at 11:29 AM
      Morning of November 5, 2018. Monday.

      Dream #: 18,949-05. Reading time (optimized): 2 min. Readability score: 38.



      In my dream, I am in an unknown location, though it is likely implied to be America as Dennis (half-brother on my mother’s side) is present. He appears as he was in the 1970s.

      There is an unfamiliar dream state denizen with me (male, about twenty years old) when Dennis starts talking about taking us on a ride on his motorcycle and even giving us our own motorcycles.

      I am not interested and he becomes very angry, telling me what a great motorcycle he is giving me. There is a long argument of the typical preconscious content (though I am not lucid).

      He eventually leaves. There is the typical indoor-outdoor ambiguity, where I look upon a highway that also somehow seems to be inside an unknown building.

      Dennis has transformed into a foot-long piece of yellow police tape (and my dream self does not consider this unusual). “He” is lying near the middle of the highway. I consider that cars may run over him as he is blown about, but I do not feel any concern.



      Conflict in my dreams (subliminal, liminal, and lucid modes) is typically a result of biologically induced reticular formation simulacra and my dream self’s willingness to correlate with the RAS factor of the waking process, and in lucidity, I am actually aware of this factor (thus there can be no doubt, as real lucidity brings about this knowledge - and an experienced lucid dreamer would know that “interpretation” in the popular sense is a misconception).

      A vehicle typically represents (projected or inherited) correlation of induction (beginning of sleep cycle) or waking (end of sleep cycle) physicality by way of vestibular system dynamics, even before full consciousness is achieved. (The preconscious is active in the waking process before the conscious self identity is, which is probably why many people do not remember their dreams.)

      I have not seen Dennis in real life since 1994 and our minimal Facebook contact has remained cheerful. The yellow police tape comes from two factors, the nexus between dreaming and waking (fuzziness about the conscious self identity when sleeping, and the reticular formation by way of the preconscious as authority over the dream self) as a liminal space divider, and a literal association with the Halloween tape we had on our fence recently for trick-or-treaters (as a fence is a literal liminal space divider in real life, which correlates with the nexus of the waking process being a model as such).


    5. Creating Dream Journals

      by , 11-09-2018 at 09:07 AM
      Morning of November 9, 2018. Friday.

      Dream #: 18,953-02. Reading time: 2 min 34 sec. Readability score: 52.



      My family and I are living in Cubitis (false scenario - Zsuzsanna has never lived in America). There is a computer set up in the northeast corner of the living room (another false scenario - computer technology of this nature did not exist when I last lived in Cubitis). This is a typical false scenario when my dream self recalls my present life status regarding marriage and family, but no recall of where we live, validating that the unconscious mind and valid memory is not viable in non-lucid dreams.

      I had been looking at the dream journal website. I am planning to capture all of the content in scholastic loose-leaf binders (3-ring binders), similar to the appearance of my dream journals from 1968 to 1979 (after which I used much bigger binders). I have a dark blue binder full of content from 2018 (and I erroneously perceive 2018 as being “last year”). There is a white rectangular label that reads “2018” on the cover.

      Over time, I create more binders (out of nowhere, on thought alone) by writing over the label on the first binder first, and then on each next label. I write a “7” over the “8” of 2018, and an additional binder appears on the table for 2017 content. I do this several times for different years. I start looking through them when I have about six. On the first page of one journal, someone had written information about a dream, but the small paragraph seems to be solely made up of several distorted (misspelled) variations of my first and last name. However, I know that it is not related to me, but I find it curious, for example, “clauc lc duc dua ld cluc u alc ac au.” I can make no sense of what it is about. I consider that the entry might be at least partly in Latin.

      I accidentally write a “1” over a “0”, so that it reads 2108 in the resulting new journal (which was supposed to be 2008), which suddenly expands, fanning more pages than any other binder and causing the binder to be too full to close, but the pages are all blank. I will it away and continue with other content. I go back to 2001 (when the dream journal website was first online) before waking.



      Literal dream space threads are common even in my non-lucid dreams. My dream self’s real-time focus is typically on the dream state itself, and its dynamics and mediation (whether in subliminal, liminal, or lucid modes), therefore “interpretation” (or what people call “meaning” rather than genuine concurrent causation) is a major misconception, probably the biggest misconception regarding any subject in human history. In fact, it can be clearly understood that creating events and features by thought or anticipation is evidence that I always know when I am in the dream state whether or not I am lucid, and non-lucid dream control is a primary factor of my dreaming history.

      As shown by my keyword statistics on one website, reading is one of the most common activities in my dreams, though words and phrases often change when looking again or change into gibberish. The only activities more common than reading in my dreams are music-related and flying (not counting interaction with water-reinducers or summoning related simulacrums). This developed out of personal will to become more aware in the dream state (and it is a more common “reality check” for some oneironauts, though I do not use “reality checks” as it undermines reticular formation function). I got this idea from my mother, who often dreamt of reading, and her knowledge of how writing typically changed in the dream state when looking again, thus I have always used reading as a potential precursor to stabilize the presence of my conscious self identity in the dream state (not as a “reality check”).


      Categories
      non-lucid
    6. Hyper-Tactility

      by , 11-08-2018 at 08:43 AM
      Morning of November 8, 2018. Thursday.

      Dream #: 18,952-02. Reading time (optimized): 2 min. Readability score: 63.



      I become aware in non-lucidity of being in an unknown room in semidarkness. Marilyn (half-sister on my mother’s side, deceased) is watching something on a big screen. (I do not recall that she had died in February 2014, and I had not seen her in real life since February 1994. She appears as she was in the 1960s.) It is not discernible at first. A slide projector and another device are near me. The image on the screen is mostly sky, but there is a fuzzy pale rendering of a broadcast tower. I make some remarks about it. (Eventually, there had been some unusual thoughts about which times near the end of the year that Marilyn had been alive and when she had not, which makes no sense. My non-lucid dream self must have forgotten the definitions of “death” and “life.”)

      Over time, I turn a dial on the device and the image of the broadcast tower becomes clearer. Soon, the imagery changes and is taking up the entire screen as a lattice of a broadcast tower. Simultaneously, my dream becomes more vivid. I realize that I can now create and control imagery, but I am not yet lucid.

      I bring about the imagery of a tunnel to my right. It is holographic and about four feet up from the floor. It is a corrugated metal culvert pipe. My cat Smokey from over twenty years ago comes through, and I pet her. I explain to Marilyn what cat it is even though she would have known. There is something within my mind about summoning a denizen from the nexus, the space between dreaming and waking, which the cat represents. I realize that the broadcast tower was a deliberate creation to augment the dynamics of my current conscious self identity in the dream state and so I enter apex lucidity, where the dream state is wholly mine. Looking at the broadcast tower lattice, it now appears to have pieces of pillow stuffing in equidistant patterns in certain corners.

      I summon a young Zsuzsanna as when we first met in 1994. She shines with internal energy. The tangibility reaches hyper-realistic forms, indistinguishable from waking life other than being more defined than would be possible in reality. We indulge in making love for a considerable time. There is a point where she floats above me, glowing internally, and rushes at me, this stemming from deliberate anticipation. There is a notion of a vampire theme (in a role-playing context, though horror movie scenarios have remained difficult to make as I have gotten older), initiated by typical lucid dream state frisson, but I cannot sustain the concept, as my thinking skills are too active.



      Certain levels of apex lucidity are such a different experience and level of perception and control it is like a different level of existence. The broadcast tower of enhancing the dream state seems as viable as the opening of a door (or opening a wall like a door) or the use of a staircase.


      Categories
      lucid
    7. Ralph Waite Leaves on a Giant Sparrow

      by , 11-07-2018 at 12:08 PM
      Afternoon of November 7, 2018. Wednesday.

      Dream #: 18,951-07. Reading time: 40 sec. Readability score: 60.



      Ralph Waite as on the 1980s television series “The Mississippi” is the main speaker at a meeting in a business-like environment in a large office, though he sits at a desk while speaking. He is wearing a dark suit.

      I am semi-lucid, and in the back of my mind, I had been contemplating more precise terms for common induction, dreaming, and waking processes for statistical reasons. One of these was considering the statistical variation between male and female vestibular system simulacrums to see if there was a significant difference when part of the flight symbol subset.

      Ralph’s talk seems to be about the nature of dreams and laws regarding them, but I do not discern the content of what he is telling the other males. He has a hardcover book open and refers to it now and then.

      There is a slight change of mood, and Ralph sits atop a giant sparrow (suddenly outside the building) and flies off on it.



      male vestibular system simulacrum (in flight), (Ralph Waite)

      literal dream space thread


      Categories
      lucid
    8. King Street Kitchen Birdcage

      by , 11-05-2018 at 07:58 AM
      Morning of October 31, 2018. Wednesday.

      Dream #: 18,944-03. Reading time: 1 min 48 sec. Readability score: 72.



      I lose my conscious self identity in a later water reinduction stage. I am still in a canoe that is floating through a marsh, probably Mink Slough. Two unfamiliar children are with me, a boy and a girl. I am young as well, though possibly about eighteen.

      The water seems shallower at one point. There is much vegetation protruding from the water’s surface. The plants are multicolored, that is, different colors in different sections. Someone had coated all the dried-up leaves with a few different colors of spray paint, including blue, red, and yellow. I consider that it was a thoughtless act, as it will likely cause environmental problems.

      Eventually, we reach the bank and leave the canoe. The King Street landlady has given the children a task to build what I first think is a rabbit cage. (This is an association with early childhood, as my father had a rabbit farm.) There are pieces of wood, screen, and wire to use to build the cage. They are in a pile near the south end of the King Street house. I decide that I will help, but the boy had already built a cage when I pick up a few random boards.

      In the last scene, I am in the King Street mansion’s kitchen. There is a birdcage where the sink was in real life. The boy may have been cleaning the cage already, as when he leaves the room, there is birdseed stuck all over his face. He does not seem to care.



      Curiously, the last scene was from a minimal thought while watching “Cargo” (2017) last night, when the girl Thoomi was eating something and got seeds or crumbs stuck on her lips and face. I have always found it astounding how the non-lucid dream self can take one fleeting impersonal trivial thought and make it part of a dream scenario. The movie was about zombies, and yet I have never dreamt of zombies in the apocalyptic sense. (In a dream from 1981, they were based on the original usage of the term as slow-moving sleepwalking slaves, but were revealed to be actors.) I think it is because of how they move so unnaturally in such movies when my reticular formation and vestibular system mostly only create fluid movements in dreams. That, and it is difficult to imagine very sick people as being stronger or faster than healthy people.

      The common melatonin mediation factor appears here (as occurs one or more times each sleep cycle). It starts with water induction and ends with vestibular system correlation (the boy in the kitchen as the vestibular simulacrum leaving the birdcage - and note how the birdcage was where the sink was in reality).


    9. I cannot create a monster

      by , 11-03-2018 at 12:51 PM
      Morning of November 3, 2018. Saturday.

      Dream #: 18,947-02. Reading time (optimized): 2 min. Readability score: 66.



      I enter my dream in a very unusual way for a morning dream. The process is so slow that I am hardly aware of the distinction between my waking thoughts and the dreamscape slowly coming into existence. (This usually only occurs in the first stage of a sleep cycle.) My conscious self identity remains fully aware. I walk into an isolated area that looks like a construction site with minimal detail.

      I decide to find Zsuzsanna (even though she is physically close to me in reality). There is a trailer home oriented lengthwise in the middle of a dirt road. I walk around to the other side, deciding that she will be in it. The door is too small for me to go into the structure, so I mentally will the whole wall to vanish.

      After she comes out, I stand with Zsuzsanna, kissing her. My state of apex lucidity is slightly glitchy. Although it is otherwise very realistic, her face glows at times and seems transparent. There is a curious quivering effect.

      Later, I start to throw knives at random unknown people whom I see as intruding into my dream space. They mostly go into chests and sometimes heads. There is no blood or gore.

      I eventually reach a point where the setting solidifies to where I am looking at a window screen (liminal space divider). It now seems to be dark out. I cannot believe how perfect and even the screen is. It defies my imagination with its evenness and perfections and remains stable until I wake. I try to create a monster to come up (to whatever building I am in) from the other side of the screen - to press its face against it.

      I imagine an ugly gargoyle coming up to the screen from the darkness outside. There is no change in the window or the screen’s detail. The screen remains perfect, and no monster ever appears. I get annoyed, trying to force my imagination as much as I can to come up with the ugliest monster possible, and start growling loudly to encourage the process. Nothing. I continue to make loud growling sounds while anticipating the appearance of a horrifying creature. Nothing happens. I realize my conscious self identity is too integrated within the dream state to allow something implausible to manifest at this point. If I were less lucid, I would probably have more dream control. A window screen represents the essence of the preconscious function (reticular activating system), so ultimately it is pointless to bring something imaginary from the other side of it. I have absentmindedly attempted this in many past dreams without success.



      The part with the knives seems to have been influenced by Zsuzsanna having looked at a Deadpool knife block recently (the knives inserted in his head). She had not told me. At least one dream per sleep cycle is telepathic (for lack of a better word), though often with more precise detail depending on the nature of the feature or event.


      Categories
      lucid
    10. The “Patches” Odyssey, Part Three

      by , 11-02-2018 at 07:36 PM
      Morning of May 24, 1970. Sunday.

      Dream #: 1,252-01. Reading time (optimized): 2 min. Readability score: 73.



      A sense of timelessness permeates my offset dream of me “sleeping” in the southwest Cubitis house’s bedroom. I see myself lying on my back (as if seeing “me” from the left side of the bed) looking up at the window (though the me in bed would not be able to see the detail of the sash window as my dream view does). Three bats flutter in and out through the missing window panes of the highest row. They move slowly and slightly erratically like butterflies more than bats. They seem to be important in a way that projects into my future well-being, many years from now.

      I become aware of what I first think might be a coffin to the left of the bed. (There is a vague association with the opened coffin in the Barbara Steele movie “Castle of Blood.”) However, I then perceive it as an electric reed organ.

      From the song: “Down by the river that flows by the coal yards”… “He says a girl name of Patches was found, floating face down in that dirty old river.” My childhood self (age nine) did not wholly understand the song. I knew Patches had drowned and that it related to love, but little else. Still, the magical beings had resurrected her in my dream.

      In my dream’s final scene (May 24, 1970 version), I felt myself rising into the air while watching “me” walking with Patches (Brenda) down a footpath (away from my direct view). It seems to be morning. There is a winter wind implied (even though it is summer in reality) and dead leaves blowing around. There is a strange feeling of destiny as the three entities (bats, fairies, butterflies, moths, now birds) are still watching us. I see a closeup on my right of three small birds huddling together in a supposed cold breeze. Beyond, I see “me” and Brenda walking as my dream self rises higher. I wake with a sense of deep peace and even nostalgia.



      After moving to Australia, Google Maps revealed the Cubitis house had become as it was in my dream. I have included the image; top, from years ago; bottom, as it is now.

      The bedroom was also as it was only in my dream years later while I was still living there. The bed would be in the same location, and my father had bought an electric reed organ (the kind of which a fan blows through reeds) and placed it in the same location.

      Zsuzsanna’s father had caught three bats in a jar when she was young and kept them for a short time.

      The Port Kembla Coal Terminal (near where Zsuzsanna was born) became a key coal exporting facility on Australia’s east coast.

      Zsuzsanna was involved (when younger) with a church of which she did not want to be.

      Brenda (Patches) was a stand-in in many dreams, though sometimes my “mystery girl” accurately appeared as Zsuzsanna long before I met her in waking life, even with the unlikely Hungarian-Australian accent.


      Updated 11-03-2018 at 09:42 AM by 1390

      Categories
      lucid
    11. The “Patches” Odyssey, Part Two

      by , 11-02-2018 at 05:02 PM
      Morning of May 24, 1970. Sunday.

      Dream #: 1,252-01. Reading time (optimized): 2 min. Readability score: 73.



      In Part One of “The ‘Patches’ Odyssey,” I described the beginning of my dream, of which was like watching the opening credits of the animated musical “Gay Purr-ee” (1962). “Opening credits” had been a part of many other dream state beginnings in my childhood, but this was clearer and brighter than usual. There were several different versions of the “Patches” dreams (later ones by intent), though with the same main segments.

      After the alligators had flipped our canoe, they drag Brenda to the opposite side of the river from where Toby and I had been in the cypress trees. In addition to the “alligator king” character being influenced by “Turok Son of Stone,” the scenario itself was from an influence of the cover of the January 1968 issue.

      Toby and I are later on the opposite bank of the river. We discover that Brenda is on her back, presumably having drowned, draped over a tree stump, with water dripping from her shoes (which are dark blue with silver buckles). I am kneeling before the dramatic scene on one knee. There is no blood or gore. Eventually, three bats fly around and seem to mourn the scene. I am also aware that they are fairies which may be able to heal her at a later date. (This stems from earlier dream segments about three fairies changing into different forms, including bats, birds, butterflies, and moths.) They sing the Dickey Lee song “Patches” with different lyrics, which oddly distort to “down by the sea” (instead of “down by the river,” even though the setting is near the river and not the ocean). Her resurrection is a result of otherworldly magic.

      In another dream segment, Brenda is missing. She had been kidnapped by a man who sells Holy Bibles from a small market stall. I follow the three entities (that are now butterflies that become moths as evening approaches). I discover that Brenda has been tied up and gagged and kept behind the market stall on the lowest shelf facing the inside. The unfamiliar man (who presents a mean visage) is selling small King James Bibles with both black and white simulated leather covers. I untie and rescue her when he is elsewhere. Red silk bookmarks of the type sewn into the Holy Bibles were sewn together and had been used to tie her up. (There may be an association with snakes, as such bookmarks are narrow and red as well as forked on the outside end.)

      In an offset segment, a literal bed space strand occurs. I see myself as sleeping in the southwest bedroom (my parents’ bedroom that my father later used for music). The head of the bed was against the west wall, where there was a row of three big jalousie windows in reality. In my dream, however, there was only one sash window in the middle of the west wall. It has twelve small panes. The top three are missing.



      End of Part Two. There will be one more main part.


    12. The “Patches” Odyssey, Part One

      by , 11-02-2018 at 12:13 PM
      Morning of May 24, 1970. Sunday.

      Dream #: 1,252-01. Reading time (optimized): 2 min. Readability score: 63.



      At about two o'clock in the morning on May 24, 1970, I enter the dream state in passive semi-lucidity. I watch the bright and colorful opening credits for the animated musical “Gay Purr-ee” (1962). It seems to be playing in a peaceful private place within my mind rather than on television or in a movie theater. So far, I am aware that I am in my bed (Cubitis house).

      Over time, I decide it will become the beginning of a long dream that has the essence of a movie. I soon see starring “Toby T_____,” “Brenda W_____,” and my name, integrated with various panels of different visuals (in the same style as the opening of “Gay Purr-ee” and with similar music). My father’s role displays as the “King of the Alligators.” (In real life, my father often sang Smiley Burnette’s “Don Juan of Sevillio,” which had the line “I’m known as the king of the matadors.” In a later version of this dream over a year later, his dream role was “The Alligator King;” an influence from a “Sesame Street” short.)

      I become aware of a recurring dream state induction process (which began in early childhood) - the presence of a water body. I slowly lose my semi-lucidity, but not my conscious self’s identity. I am in a canoe with Brenda (schoolmate, neighbor, and friend) and Toby (schoolmate and friend). The three of us are on a journey that seems to be occurring at night. We are traveling in a canoe on Peace River (Lettuce Lake area). The scene is peaceful and enjoyable, but I absentmindedly focus on my dream becoming dramatic, even thrilling.

      A man on the riverbank commands three alligators to attack our canoe. (It is my father acting in this imaginary role, though I am not wholly lucid in this version of my dream even though I “wrote the script” for this scene, not because of any associations with my father being perceived as such, even metaphorically, but to fill the imaginary role with a familiar character as with a school play.) He is wearing a cape made of alligator hide. (I am vaguely aware of the cypress knee lamps he used to make in real life when we lived in Fort Ogden. The clothing imagery was an influence from characters in Gold Key’s “Turok Son of Stone” comic book.)

      As we watch, the alligators approach and flip our canoe. That triggers a vestibular correlation event, where I fly through the air and land in a tree about ten feet from the ground on the opposite side of the river as the alligator king. Toby is clutching to the trunk of a nearby tree. At first, I view this event as comedic. However, I notice that Brenda is being pulled (on her back) over the surface of the water by an alligator.



      I end part one here. Part two continues with additional important scenes and segments from other dream versions with the same foundation, which occurred over about two years (1969-1971).


      Categories
      lucid
    13. Tackle Shop Bookshop

      by , 10-30-2018 at 01:58 PM
      Morning of October 30, 2018. Tuesday.

      Dream #: 18,943-03. Reading time: 2 min 38 sec. Readability score: 62.



      My dream renders a mixed-up combination of a pawn shop from America, a bookstore from Nundah (Australia), and a tackle shop from America. It seems to be late afternoon. I am on my own, with little conscious self memory (even though Zsuzsanna and I frequented the Nundah bookstore years ago).

      There is a backstory, and false memory, about how I had traded several packs of long bookbinding screws (at least four inches in length) for credit or to trade, though I do not recall all of the details. There are two unfamiliar female cashiers present who are in their twenties. (The bookbinding screws relate to my big stamp album binders from when I lived in Florida, though there are likely associations with similar screws I used for putting the swing set together after Christmas.)

      I am carrying a winter jacket (though mostly slung over my left shoulder). As such, I try not to appear suspicious, as I also have items I had brought into this store. I consider that they might think I am taking them from their store and trying to hide them under my jacket. (This is a literal bed space strand, as subliminal awareness of the bed sheet pulling around my left shoulder.)

      They seem puzzled (and express disbelief) when I infer how I had traded items previously. The shelves that had packs of bookbinding screws are now all empty. For some reason, they are to do with fishing tackle, but my dream self does not reflect upon this error. The owner is at the back of his store, but I do not approach his counter. (I perceive him as the owner of the pawn shop in La Crosse, though there are also associations with the owner of the Nundah bookstore.)

      One of the women asks me if I want to buy one of the bigger bass plugs, but I respond that they are too big for the type of fishing I do (which includes striped bass and smallmouth bass for which I prefer small jigs and spoons). I then walk to the opposite side of the store. I see that they are selling magazines and comic books, though there are only a few different titles on the wooden display shelves.

      I see two Casper comic books next to each other. There are a few copies of each, vertically stacked. One is $4.53, and the other is $5.64. I decide to buy them, but I am not sure if I have enough money. An unknown chubby man of about twenty (who works in the store) picks one up to look through. I tell him that I had hundreds of Casper comic books collected over thirty years and that they were usually different. I add that sometimes there were reprints in digests and suggest their size by forming a small square with my hands. I tell him about those digest stories being “backed up” in the way I would describe how I back up my dream documentation online and on more than one drive.

      As I walk to the checkout counter on the opposite side of the store, he calls out, saying something about “sending backup.” The reference seems humorous or business-related rather than inferring police activity.

      I reach into my wallet and see that I have solely an American twenty-dollar note, which will suffice, even though I consider the prices on the comic book covers will be more when changing to the Australian amount.

      I pay the cashier, and as I get my change, I deliberately, though liminally, reset the scenario and leave without paying.



      When the emerging consciousness simulacrum (the chubby male) was talking about “sending backup,” it became a comically sarcastic reference to me subliminally resetting my dream to deliberately manipulate the function of RAS (reticular activating system) as the preconscious simulacrum in the second instance by “erasing” the cashier’s presence. I have utilized this sort of dream control and subliminal, liminal, and lucid manipulation since early childhood.


    14. Fun with Nitroglycerin

      by , 10-30-2018 at 08:00 AM
      Morning of October 30, 2018. Tuesday.

      Dream #: 18,943-05. Reading time (optimized): 2 min. Readability score: 71.



      I become aware of being on the Loomis Street house’s porch (liminal space) where I have a galvanized metal washtub full of gray powder with silvery properties. It is supposed to be nitroglycerin. I had supposedly ordered it via mail-order. My brother-in-law Bob (appearing as he was in the 1980s) cautions me that the authorities might find it. I keep the washtub near the northeast corner, not that far from the porch door. I am aware of Zsuzsanna and our children at times. Our youngest son went with our oldest daughter east down Gillette Street (where there were no stores in real life, though my dream implies there were).

      I read a brochure (that seems foreign, possibly from the Philippines) that claims its appearance is like that of soil to anyone who does not look at it closely. (There is no distortion in the text I read, though I do not attempt to read it the second time.) The detail is very realistic and precise, including the silver grains.

      I make it into tiny “snowballs” that I throw to the porch step outside. It makes a loud sound like a big firecracker. I claim that a golf-ball-sized amount would be like a nuclear bomb, though there is no evidence of that and I make no attempt to prove it.

      I have fun with it, and my tangibility is enhanced. At one point, I see what first seems like a detached arm, with a hand, crawling on the branch of a tree, grasping at a small teddy bear. It turns out to be a Halloween toy for a dog (and is mechanical, not organic). An unknown woman is looking for her dog.

      Later, even though I am still on the porch, it also seems I am in an outside area. Flowering plants are present to my left. I toss some of the powder onto the sidewalk, directly in front of me, without pressing it into a small ball. A fire soon covers the area, but I stomp it out with my foot.



      This dream stemmed from an earlier one of watching Dean Norris (as the vestibular system simulacrum) and two unknown people work with nitroglycerin. There was a scene where they were climbing what looked like monkey bars (from my elementary school’s playground) or scaffolding coated in nitroglycerin. It was on a stage (like the one from my high school). A quick small fire moves over all of the structure, immediately going out, and Dean appears to be worried for a short time (as he remains vertically holding onto the bars about halfway up and to the right), but no harm comes to anyone. He talks about how dangerous it is. I am puzzled as to why an actor would seemingly risk his safety for a public service video.



      I believe that the mechanical detached horizontally-oriented arm crawling on a branch to the teddy bear is a literal bed space strand, though seems to be the only first-level one in this dream.


      Categories
      non-lucid
    15. Beatles in the Barn with Tiger

      by , 10-25-2018 at 08:16 AM
      Morning of October 25, 2018. Thursday.

      Dream #: 18,938-02. Reading time (optimized): 2 min. Readability score: 83.



      In late morning, I find myself in a big barn (in an unknown location) that serves as a recording studio for the Beatles. There is much sound equipment on hay bales and the barn floor, such as big amplifiers and mixing consoles, but I do not see any musical instruments. There are a few unfamiliar men present, one being a producer, another, a sound engineer.

      While a man is checking a track, there is an unusual drum fill where the snare audio reverses at least twice. The man is puzzled and asks Paul McCartney what that was, but he does not reply. A different “drum fill” is heard, but it turns out to be someone knocking on the barn door. (This scene is ambiguous for two reasons, one, a door knock would not have reverse audio and two, the sound came from the equipment.)

      A man comes in with a tiger that belongs to John Lennon’s wife (Cynthia Powell). He pets it for a short time. There is no sense of danger.

      Later, there is an unknown man with a Bainbridge livestock prod. He taps the tiger with it on the rump, and John and the man with the tiger slowly leave the barn. They seem cheerful. Next, the man uses the prod on some farm animals. He touches the rump of a horse with it to get it to move to the corner of the barn. The horse seems annoyed but goes where the man wants him to go.

      I do not see any of the Beatles at this point and decide to leave the barn. I go around to the back and see a young version of Zsuzsanna, who is about eight years old. However, my real-life identity is not extant in this dream, and so my dream self does not recall who she is. There is a cage adjacent to the back of the barn. There are at least three brown-mantled tamarins in the cage, a mother and two babies. Zsuzsanna is sitting on the ground watching them. She does not speak. I hold the paw of the mother tamarin, stroking the fur on the back of its “hand.” It seems tame.

      Later, I get up and go back into the barn, which is now empty and full of hundreds of flies that start buzzing in my face. The air is thick with them, and they are loud. I soon decide to leave the barn and slowly wake after I walk back out. As I wake, I realize that the illusion of the flies was a distortion of the sound of the fan and its air on my face (from the foot of the bed).



      Two other dreams came before this, one of sending many DVDs over time to a member of the dream journal website (a long-term male poster). The other related to capturing each instrument from the Beatles’ “Being for the Benefit of Mr. Kite!” to use virtual versions (mostly on keyboards) for a live cover.


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