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    …and they were searching for drugs

    by , 08-23-2017 at 02:23 PM (320 Views)
    Morning of August 23, 2017. Wednesday.

    Considering that I neither smoke nor use drugs (even legal medication), this was a rather impersonal dream on some levels, but with the typical preconscious initiation symbolism as since early childhood.

    I discover two large marijuana cigarettes in a drawer, which I am aware belong to my older half-brother Dennis. Completely unlike my waking self mentality, I am actually thinking of smoking both of them (though this is about subliminal dream state revivification rather than having any waking life relevance). Still, when Dennis shows up, I pretend that they should be shared with him. Curiously, he says he does not indulge in such acts anymore.

    For what seems to be a long time, I stand near the end of the Cubitis driveway near Highway Seventeen. It seems to be late at night. I feel very good. I smoke one of the cigarettes, being clearly aware of the odd way the smoke and fire spreads out from it.

    Eventually, a team of at least four men show up during what seems to be the next day. Apparently, they are here to search the house for drugs. The main one, the personified preconscious, whose job is to make me realize I am dreaming and thus should wake (to attend to important biological needs), is a chubby unfamiliar man with a gray beard. My mother is present in some scenes, mostly appearing as she was in the 1970s. I have no recall that she had died in 2002.

    In another scene, the men are in a meeting in the house. I find a large box which contains sweet grass in a few different forms as well as several other herbs, some braided. I consider that they might see the plants as illegal drugs but this is not the case. They know it is sweet grass and even discuss how useful it is.

    In another scene, the preconscious brings out a tackle box from somewhere. He seems to believe that he may find drugs in it (though the real purpose is obviously to get me to think about fishing, which symbolizes activating neural energies to arise from sleep). This angers me somewhat. Still, when he opens it, there are two large globs of stale cat food, though he does not seem to know what it is at first and expresses disgust. I inform him that it is cat food and that the tackle box had not been opened for many years. (As a cat has been validated to be some sort of “guardian” of liminal space as first determined in dreams when I was about five years old, this suggests I am still subliminally attempting to sustain my dream in unusual ways by having supposedly “hidden the cat food for many years” so as to halt a particular shift in consciousness. There is sometimes a subliminal hypnopompic association as well, based on “cats always land on their feet” to downplay the waking start that often includes a falling sensation of which is biological and has no waking life relevance.)

    In one of the last scenes, I decide to go into the bathroom, as I still have a joint in my right pants pocket (though no one has checked me thus far) and I plan to stay in here until they leave (and this is likely an awareness of needing to wake and use the bathroom, but the urge is not yet that dominant). While I am in here, the shadow of the preconscious is cast through a window (which suggests he is closer to coalescing as my emergent consciousness). I stand near a different wall, but I still suspect he is watching me and I start yelling at him about spying on people, telling him I will call the FBI, which he seems to find amusing.

    The emergent consciousness factor shifts back into subliminal reinduction as the preconscious is now clearly in view through another window. He comes into the house again and I consider that they may go through every container in the house no matter how long it takes. Before I see the preconscious inside the house again, I go into a room that is similar to our oldest son’s room in the Barolin Street house. I drop the joint down a vertical opening between the wall boards (at about elbow level) oriented to the right of the room on the north wall. The tip is barely visible. Perhaps they will not find it, but it still seems a possibility. (Note that a wall symbolizes real-time divisions of neural energy patterns and the more defined division between levels of consciousness. This validates the basic real-time subliminal theme of this dream.)

    Getting tired of the presence of the preconscious (and only knowing what his presence indicates at a subliminal level), I stab him numerous times with a dagger (which validates non-lucid dream control as this is something I would not think about consciously in a real-life situation as such unless my life or a family member’s was directly threatened). There is a lot of blood; so much blood that there seems to be more blood than physical volume of his body. Soon, the other officials enter the room and look down casually at the remains. “Well, that didn’t work,” says one male, “He’s still not awake.”

    They perform some sort of ritual to resurrect him. His remains transform into some sort of computer console as from the 1950s though I am aware it is female. The men watch the screen and I see a young version of Zsuzsanna walking around, but what this implies does not fully register. (A computer typically represents increasing neural activity in the waking stage as the unconscious does not possess viable thinking skills). I am not sure if they had intended to change him into a female computer console or not. Maybe it happened randomly, but they do not seem puzzled. They turn dials and study the actions of Zsuzsanna on the monitor. “Neural activity increasing,” says the male watching the console while the other two stand around. There is a list of Hz values on the right, the top one being 22 Hz (supposed intelligence enhancement). (Zsuzsanna was awake at the time in reality and had been walking around in the house.)

    Then…I am in an unknown room at a table in a less vivid offset dream, sitting with most of my dream’s characters. I am drinking grape juice and notice that I have “hidden” the joint in the glass. It illogically remains in a vertical position near one side of the glass. (There may be an association with attempting to drink through a paper straw, which always irritated me in real life.) I tell them that I do not really care much about the taste of what I am drinking and my dream fades. (Almost all of us wake up with a strange flavor in our mouths. Your tongue accumulates a series of bacteria stored overnight.)

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    Updated 06-10-2018 at 06:11 AM by 1390