Blue_Opossum

Morning of December 31, 2015. Thursday. New Year’s Eve.



This dream “came out of nowhere” in the sense that there is no discernible connection to recent real life events or concerns other than upon closer examination perhaps. It begins as a typical “finding and gathering comic books” dream. There is a point at which my wife Zsuzsanna and children and I are walking through a mostly undefined but implied alleyway, one area being near a pawn shop.

---

There is an offset dream of moving through an alley and street that is actually more like the aisle of a store. There are various books stacked horizontally on the shelves. I realize they belong to some neighborhood children (rather than relevant to a rummage sale or yard sale as in similar dreams) and do not take them.

The main scenario involves going into an unfamiliar post office. Two younger males work there as postal clerks, at least one (or both) of East Indian descent. Somehow, it becomes known that there are random unclaimed items in shelves in the back. One male gives me a small package as if just giving them to random members of the public to get rid of them (loosely based on an old Spirit comic book Valentine story I read recently). To my surprise, I see that the package is addressed to me, with my first and last name clearly discernible (and it does not change when I read it again). It also has “1997” on the postmark and thus is apparently something I ordered in that year (which was the third year I had lived in Australia from February 9, 1994).

The postal clerks seem cheerful. I wonder why it was never delivered though. I open it up and it is a model airplane, a Northrop F-20 Tigershark, with “F-20” clearly visible on the model. (In real life, my oldest son had started a model airplane collection of about the same size but not as far back as 1997.)

Later, while still in the same general area, though in a hall of the building where the post office is, I notice that the model F-20 is of a very unusual appearance. It takes on the essence of a paper Christmas bell, though also is reminiscent (from the frontal view) of a slightly squashed carnation. This of course is absurd, as only something of expanded radial symmetry could be made as such, but I do not question its appearance. I hold it and look at it feeling slightly puzzled.

Relying on what is available on the Internet relating to any possible meaning, one could get completely confused. I do know the East Indian postal employee represents theft, as my return ticket for refund (worth a few hundred dollars) was apparently stolen by this postal employee who refused to register it (and this was in the news later concerning other mail including numerous packages) and thus there was no record regarding its disappearance.

Looking at the Northrop F-20 Tigershark, its being a model long past due in getting by mail (or “communication” in general), the paper Christmas bell appearance, and the association with the partly squashed carnation is quite complex (it is almost like an airplane-shaped carnation if that is even possible, but it swirls and slopes somewhat to the left from the frontal view - and again there is the idea it was somehow made in the manner of a paper Christmas bell though I do not recall building it in this way). The Internet gives different associations for yellow carnations, though most include rejection or disdain, though if I did not consciously know this, any interpretation as such is meaningless. Personally, it probably relates to mortality as another dream of this day did; suggesting a powerful aircraft becoming like a partly squashed flower, either relating to life energy becoming less viable or something aggressive becoming peaceful. Still, it could yet again relate solely to the waking mechanism, the energy of my dream “returning to the garden bed”.

---

This is one of those oddly clever composites. The waking transition is quite long. It starts out with a typical flying symbol, the model airplane, downsized as a normal-looking model at first and quantified in the post office setting. Near the waking stage, the model airplane looks more like a paper Christmas bell, a bell also being a waking metaphor. It also has the essence of a flower, as in “garden bed”. My dream self is puzzled at these unusual atypical layers at the waking stage.

Morning of December 26, 2015. Saturday.

Dream #: 17,904-02. Reading time: 2 min 26 sec.



I am with my wife Zsuzsanna in the hospital, not due to illness or injury, but we need to fill out numerous documents before the authorities can approve our marriage. It has to do with blood type and other factors. We both have applications to complete. I am annoyed as we have already been in the hospital for at least five days. I am aware of Zsuzsanna’s extraordinary beauty and familiarity in our friendship, yet we are also impatient with hospital staff. I decide that we are going to leave without filling out the last of these papers. I had written an obnoxious response to one question, which I think was all I had written on the document. I fold it up, and we get ready to leave without saying anything to the staff. It seems our examination is partly because of our lack of integration with mainstream culture.

Zsuzsanna (my wife-to-be in this dream) pushes through another patient’s thin curtains that somehow lead to the hospital’s main entrance. She sits down, facing away from the big front window (to the right of the entrance from the inside view). I admire her beauty while I am standing by the hospital’s entrance. She lights a cigarette. I have a false recall she has occasionally smoked before. I am uncertain I could marry a smoker.

My awareness changes. I show off by carrying a long and heavy ladder from the hospital grounds. Many couples are sitting together at small round tables, including several athletes. I shift the ladder to carry it with one finger. Farther to my right is a river or set of railroad tracks or both. I am aware only a few people are looking at me, but I also know that no one else would be able to do what I am doing. I am not sure where I am going, but I feel very happy and assertive.

---

In an earlier scene, I am at WWTI in Wisconsin. I do not think I have classes here, but I am exploring the southeast area of the building. It seems to be an auto repair class in the same area it was in real life. (Although I did not go to it in real life, my friend Rick had.) There are classes on two sides of a big (and otherwise unattended) semi-dark room. I think about going to the class on my left, whether or not I am assigned to go, and I seem to in an offset dream. However, I am eventually back in this “mysterious” room in what is likely a “reset.” At this point, I do not feel like going to any classes, assigned or not. Instead, I want to leave through the front entrance (that is somewhat like a machine shop). It seems I may have instinctually sensed my dream’s reset (without fully understanding what it was) so I want to leave the area.

I go to the double glass doors with three black horizontal bars on each pane about halfway up, but they do not fully open. (The bars may relate to a remote or magnetic function, perhaps implying the doors cannot open manually.) There is a set of three double doors in the direction of the public sidewalk, with a space between each set with barely enough room to stand. (It seems the doors might crash into each other, especially if someone let go of the outer ones). I use telekinesis to throw all six doors open at the same time (though with slight difficulty in getting them to remain open at first as they crash into each other without breaking). I confidently walk out of the building.

---

Morning of December 24, 2015. Thursday.



…And so now it appears that I enter my yearly stage where the heat of our environment has the most influence on my dream states, at least during certain times in the morning.

Yet again, twenty years or so of memories are seemingly randomly scrambled in the dream state (of course, only certain stages of certain dream states). I am at least living with my wife Zsuzsanna and our children but we are apparently living in some sort of altered version of the Loomis Street house (unlike any other altered version I had seen in any previous dream). A variation of the large reverse-L-shaped closet (that joins two bedrooms somewhat as a “hallway”) is mostly featured here.

At one point, there seems to be a small fire inside the wall, visible through a small hole. When I go to check out the possible source and exact location (and to see how far it has spread assuming it has) and check the other side of the wall, there is an odd “secret” panel built into the wall which I may or may not have known of before, accessible from the front small bedroom (but still hard to reach through to), where there are two cream-colored dials (similar to the design of a 1960s radio), one above the other by about four inches and around the level of my lower chest. Each dial seems connected to some sort of isolated door-latch-like feature slightly above it, in a shallow recess. I am aware, oddly enough, that each dial controls a particular door elsewhere in the house, one being the bathroom, I think, and another, a different bedroom. In order to fully get to the dials, I need to unscrew two screws at opposite vertical ends of the panel. The act of doing this is very “realistic” and palpable, as well as with no time distortions (or typical dream “shortcuts”). I put the two screws on a shelf in the closet at about shoulder level. When I notice a sink in the closet (as if for a bathroom) it does not seem out of place. Regarding the two screws, it seems one is sliver and one is gold. (On a side note, the act of unscrewing two or more screws with such an extreme level of focus, clarity, and tangibility, seems to be something that has only happened in my dreams over the past couple of years or so - it may relate to “opening up” other levels of consciousness though this is not certain.)

When I have easier access, the dials seem to be damaged from either lack of use or from the fire, which I do not presently see. There is some powdery substance around each small “latch” which seems to possibly be disintegrated wood or ash, seemingly causing the dial to not work as it should. I try to see if I can shut the relevant door located in another room by turning one dial, but it is difficult. I ask my wife to check, but nothing seems to be happening other than the other door slightly swaying. The remote shutting of a door in another part of the house by using a small dial built inside a wall is an intriguing concept and I think this is the first time it has featured as such in a dream (at least with more clarity). Still, how would I know when the door was actually open or shut (or locked) without a partner telling me from another room - otherwise I would have to wander back and forth numerous times (I think there is a “message” here somewhere). Apparently, if the latch-like feature above the dial clicks into a certain position (at “12 o'clock), I assume that means the unseen door in another room is shut - but again, it does not seem to work, the feel of the dial being too "soft” where it should probably click in its operation related to the other small feature.

I am annoyed by the failure of the dials to operate either door, either in opening them or in keeping them closed and possibly even locked. I eventually notice a large fire under the sink (with no doors under the sink) again, inside the closet, facing east, where the closet door is. The fire is “supposed” to be there it seems, but seems just a bit too large and shooting out from the sides somewhat. (Of course, there was no sink - or a furnace - in this closet in reality.) My friend Rick S is in the house, possibly just visiting us, and I ask him to turn down the thermostat while I still examine the dials. Eventually, in addition to the adjustment near the sink-furnace composite I realize that the two dials are probably related to the thermostats in two different adjacent rooms rather than what I originally assumed them to be for. No wonder there has been a fire. The dials need to be turned back counterclockwise to at least “10 o'clock” so that the fire and heat is not as extreme.

This dream is based on some real-life associations; firstly, the extreme heat, secondly, several of the doors in this house have always been problematic, opening up shortly after closing them (the back door and bathroom door in fact, needing to be locked to keep them closed - otherwise they will just pop open), and thirdly, one of the doors below the sink is off and needs to be replaced or reset with different holes and screws.

Morning of December 19, 2015. Saturday.



In my very vivid dream, my family and I are back living on Barolin Street (the large house no longer there in reality, having been moved). It seems to be late at night and I am on our front porch with a young version of my brother Earl (deceased) and his last wife Cindy. I am nearest the front entrance, Cindy being to my right, and Earl being to her right. We are all seated on small kitchen chairs. My brother and his wife are facing an electronics setup though I am more to the side of it, what is seemingly a cassette deck to record their conversation and possibly singing. This cassette deck is sitting on a larger feature, which is some sort of computer. There is also apparently a radio. (This is probably associated with a recording which Earl and his first wife Beverly created at North Monroe Street in 1967 with a guitarist of the region, Don Keys, including their singing and his own double-tracked guitar parts on reel-to-reel, which was transferred to cassette copies.) This is where I had a setup in real life prior to our moving, though not exactly as in my dream.

Over time, the face of the vertical-load cassette deck seems detached and loose and is out by about half an inch. I also notice that the front of the computer tower is slightly protruding with a gap. Eventually, I feel a bit of heat and smoke begins to come out.

There is a temporary strange shifting of the situation, like an offset dream within a dream but oddly just as vivid (without a seeming consciousness shift, which is atypical of dreams within dreams). I am then on the far right of the setup and my oldest son, seeming only about twelve years old again, is to my left. I am telling him that he should sit back from the smoke as the smoke seems possibly toxic if too much is breathed in, though at this point, it seems a “normal” part of the recording process and to be expected of the electronic equipment (even though in the main scenario it is not considered as such at all).

Then, I am shifted back into the previous scenario again, exactly the same as it was. I do not really pay any notice to my having shifted into the offset dream but continue trying to work out what is going on with the equipment. The smoke is not that thick but seems to annoy my brother and his wife and becomes more problematic. It mostly drifts northward through our porch.

My brother Earl shows me his wife’s bracelet, which had been sitting atop the cassette deck. “Look,” he says to me, “it’s melted”. He seems slightly annoyed but not angry. His wife Cindy looks on without emotion.

I then notice that my black wallet (of synthetic plastic) had also been atop the cassette deck and has partly melted. It has even come apart into two sections, all of the contents having been singed. I am only slightly concerned. I am not sure if we will continue to work in a session regarding what we had been doing (recording from the radio or Earl singing with his wife).

---

Because a cassette deck has two cylindrical rotating features (and especially being a machine), it is obvious now that it is a subtle metaphorical form of the Merkaba. Frankly, I cannot imagine how I have missed this all this time - talk about being “slow”. (In fact, this setting reflects when I experienced it the strongest when wide awake, complete with the intense cilia-like imagery. This also means that I will be able to get additional clues out of a number of past dreams that I had not fully decoded yet.)

The cassette deck being the (partnered) Merkaba is even more obvious with the additional elements which validate this likelihood. Firstly, the melted bracelet is that which symbolizes lack of bondage to something mundanely habitual; in other words, it augments spiritual freedom (or not being “chained” by society’s limited understanding and unrewarding material pursuits). (A melted bracelet equates a removed handcuff.) Secondly, the melted wallet means dynamic spiritual freedom in another way, in the sense of the melted identification card - that is, losing static and mundane associations with any previous presumed identity - or being free of non-dynamic restrictions caused by being “labelled” by either government or consensus or even a particular individual.

---

In another way, it could also be a reminder of the ephemerality of the Merkaba. (Certainly, something melting does not always have this association. For example, I have two well-documented dreams of melted bicycles, both having been preceded by having a small amount of alcohol in real life. It is clear to me that, as a bicycle represents both cellular processes and the ability to define travel through “narrower paths” - as well as yet another form of the partnered Merkaba evidenced by the two rotating wheels - that alcohol interferes with cellular processes - “melting” or killing brain cells - and interferes with intended steering or desired direction as well as spiritual relationships.)

Smoke often represents real-time communications with consensus consciousness and (potential) changes of thinking in the dreamer (or the “burning” or dissolving of previous ideas or circumstances). In this case, aspects may be “toxic” because of the limiting nature of some levels of collective consciousness; that is, people who refuse to move on by holding labels over a person or circumstance; they are mentally “stuck” on one time period (or fixed memory) and one illusory facade without the ability to understand transience or natural change, as even rocks are transitory.

Why was my brother Earl rendered in this situation? Since childhood, I always referred to him as the “doubting Thomas” of my family, so at one level, he is the “skeptic” within my consciousness.

Some people have the idea that “being free of restraint” (melted bracelet) and “losing invariable identification” (melted wallet) can only be of negative implications, when that depends on the circumstances. My experiences with the Merkaba tell me that something outside of myself is needed to balance my place in the universe (in other words, my soulmate). My wife Zsuzsanna and I had also made cassettes of our singing together, mostly when we lived on Gellibrand Street in Clayfield. There are sometimes many layers to consider in a particular dream, depending on its type. This one seems to have more actual meaning than usual (though not just because it was vivid and non-lucid).

---

Morning of December 17, 2015. Thursday.



In my dream, I am aware of our family as they are now, though our house seems somewhat different, with typically rotated or mirrored features in relationship to other rooms (not rotated or mirrored as a whole). The back story seems to imply that we had been to some sort of carnival earlier in the afternoon or similar type of event related to television shows or movies. There were a few celebrities there. (The event took place a few blocks south of our house.)

Meanwhile, there is a leak in a small pipe in our bathroom, seemingly from one corner of the room and from the water main - with only clean water (no awful plumbing mishaps as some dreams dictate). At different times, there is more water on the floor than at other times, but it does not seem that problematic or have a potential for a greater degree of flooding throughout other rooms.

I have a black-and-white photograph of Catwoman (though I am not sure of which actress; possibly any one of several, including at least three from the 1960s). It is mostly a head and shoulders shot, mostly facing forward. It seems autographed on the lower right but I do not attempt to check the name for whatever reason (it may read “Catwoman” in part rather than the actress name). It may in fact be a “new” fictional version of Catwoman (with an unknown or unfamiliar actress), since we apparently had met her and a few other characters at the showgrounds about an hour or so before (though I do not directly recall the event even in my dream).

After interacting with my family for a short time in our house, I notice that the photograph has a few drops of water near the right side, about halfway down. Carefully wiping it off with my right shirt sleeve, it leaves blank white circular spots on the photograph in a triangular arrangement over the otherwise black Catwoman outfit. This makes me so angry that I slowly but deliberately tear the photograph in half from the side, soon followed by tearing it up completely, saying that it was ruined. I then say how it was a waste of time going to the showgrounds (which is not all that logical, as a photograph does not have to account for time spent, especially if the day was enjoyable during a family outing). Around this time, I notice more water coming out of the pipe and a few puddles on the floor, but there is never a problematic flooding. (The toilet itself is mirrored in the bathroom from south to north in respect to the otherwise seemingly correct orientation to other rooms.)

---

If a cat (when it does not represent an actual pet) sometimes symbolizes curiosity, then what would Catwoman represent? Since Zsuzsanna often dressed up as Catwoman when she was young, the act of tearing up the photograph may relate to my awareness that everyman honestly does not have the capacity to either believe or understand our lifelong unexplainable mystery (and there is no indication that humanity will be more aware or intelligent as such in my lifetime to utilize their own connection to the Source), though could also mean that, as my lifelong “mystery girl” was validated, she is no longer a fictional character on paper but my real soulmate.

Water is the nature of consciousness, sleep, and memory (and ever-flowing “fluid” thought even in sleep), the main metaphorical essence of the dreaming mechanism itself. A leaking pipe may imply the dream state becoming stronger or clearer on some levels (even implying a closeness to Universal Mind) - though when utilizing a negative connotation, could imply problematic memory (as one supposedly has when they get older). However, I tear up the photograph (again, a static image) and so this incarnation of my dream self does not go further into the dream state in a more imaginative or surreal sense as it might have when more clearly focusing on the mystery (in this case, an “exotic” photograph) of the dream state. It stops, in fact, in a familiar environment (and accepts the setting as “real” and present - with only a vague implied back story of the previous showgrounds) where only some energies of deeper levels of the mind are present at some points. Water as memory begins to dissolve (or “whiten”) the static image, which is also a static “memory” at some levels - a balancing or phasing, perhaps - or simply an indication of the dream state itself.

---

Thoughts about the failure of product longevity were a previous focus in real life just prior to sleep. For example, my very expensive monitoring headphones that are only about two years old are disintegrating around the headband into what resembles very thin larger ashes. However, more relevant to my dream’s situation, there is also a reflection on how printer ink now vanishes from commercial receipts after a short time, so that now you cannot even keep a receipt as proof of purchase. This seems to at least partly be a vague focus of my dream self at one point.

Morning of December 12, 2015. Saturday.



In this dream, we have a pet penguin. The setting is our present home on W Street mostly as it is in real life. We are in our bed which seemingly has correct orientation regarding the overall layout.

Nothing much happens over time other than the penguin rolling around and standing up near me a few times, mostly on my right (my wife Zsuzsanna being in bed at one point though on my left). It is not really that annoying. The detail seems fairly realistic. There seems to be no stronger concern regarding the idea of being nibbled or pecked even though that potential is vaguely in the back of my mind.

A penguin has wings but cannot fly, so on one level, it is a “failed flight” feature relating to the waking transition, especially when not in its natural environment or swimming. This is validated by my “Penguin in a Jar” dream (1975) where the penguin takes on the symbolism of a fish and swims in a downward spiral deeper within the aquarium and my dream becomes more vivid, because on another level it relates to the dream state itself. The penguin being in our bed and not swimming (and lacking the ability to fly even though it has wings), it is metaphorical for my final stage of waking.

One of my last dreams relating to a penguin was a distortion of the waking mechanism as well, when the alarm clock’s radio came on and I remained in my dream for a time and the announcer appeared in my dream as a chattering (and cartoon-like) penguin, wandering crazily through a random maze seemingly on the surface on a pinball playfield.

Edited for clarity on Friday, 8 April 2016.

Morning of December 12, 2015. Saturday.

Dream #: 17,890-02. Reading time: 1 min 56 sec.



In my dream, my wife Zsuzsanna and our children and I are living in an unfamiliar residence. It is uncertain whether it is the front yard or backyard where the events occur. There is a big shed to my right (from the perspective of the doorway), so it may be our backyard. Two of our sons are playing.

I notice our neighbor (an unfamiliar dream character about my age, but I seem to be younger) is cutting down one of our big trees from his side of the fence (my left), slightly above its height, closest the alley or street. (I should assume alley as it is probably the backyard.) It puzzles and angers me because trees provide shade and keep the yard cooler. I start yelling about it from our doorway though there is no reason why he would hear me due to the noise of his chainsaw. The tree falls into his yard. For a moment, I wonder if he had misjudged what he was doing and was struck by it, but that is not the case.

He goes on to cut down an additional tree of ours that is slightly smaller and closer to our house. I cannot believe his audacity. However, I consider that our trees may have possibly caused problems by their roots being problematic, perhaps relating to issues with the fence itself or something on his property.

I tell Zsuzsanna about it. The room is unfamiliar, and another door to the backyard is present though open. Our neighbor, who does not look like anyone I know, walks into our house with an angry look. I assume this is because he heard me yelling at him.

“You have no business just waltzing into our house,” I say sternly and assertively. Another unknown male also comes into our house. He is younger, perhaps in his late thirties. He may be a man who was also in our neighbor’s yard and helping him.

I walk over to him and punch him hard in the jaw, followed by another punch in the nose. He does not move back but sways slightly. He does not attempt to strike me. Much to my surprise, the other male also starts punching him from his left. I continue to hit him from his right. The other male punches him hard in the stomach a few times. I grab the bar (no weights) of a dumbbell to swing and hit him directly in the jaw again, three times. He almost falls. The other male does not look at me and continues to fight him. For a moment, I think the other man may think my usage of the metal bar is “unfair,” but he never speaks or stops punching the older male. I wake while wondering if the older man angered the younger man by trespassing into our house or otherwise annoying him.

---

dream type: subliminal preconscious wall mediation

---

Morning of December 10, 2015. Thursday.



The first segment of my dream is a vague grocery shopping event of a type I have had since the late 1970s, though in this case, my wife Zsuzsanna and children are known as they are now in reality. Still, the store does not seem familiar, though it is only rendered in my immediate surroundings and “foggy” beyond about eight feet in all directions. Based on the real directional orientation of our bed, it seems I am going easterly through the checkout. I do not notice any other people except for the (unfamiliar) cashier.

From here, there is some sort of abstract distortion about having action figures all over a bed (dream sign) along with random (human) clothes and accessories for the action figures as well as a few unrelated miscellaneous items. One of the action figures is Thor. Thor is slightly smaller in scale than the other action figures, just enough to notice. Other action figures are Jean Grey, Wolverine, Magneto, Iron Man, and a few others. Jean Grey is actually the largest in scale compared to the others.

There is some sort of confusion about playing a game with the action figures, which possibly relates to a board game. Thor’s clothes are missing and as such, he might as well be a Ken doll, it seems. I am also annoyed at the disorder of the various toys and game pieces and the apparent difficulty in quickly finding something. However, I eventually find Thor’s outfit (next to the other miscellaneous items and clothes, under my shirt) and am able to interact with my family in the informal game (which seems more like random playing around). I notice that Jean Grey has a large monochrome plastic basket (not that realistic in detail as it seems to resemble a My Little Pet Shop accessory) which seems to have a smaller basket extending from the side (this being oddly like a previous dream where a pot of gold icon had a smaller one right next to it - in the same orientation - on the left from my view). It is empty and may be unrelated to the game. Not much else happens. The setting is not rendered that clearly.

Morning of December 3, 2015. Thursday.



This dream is of a fairly common focus where I can hover and float about vertically (as if standing though completely relaxed physically). This is sometimes a secondary awareness to other dream events (such as ones with some semblance of plot or circumstance, surreal or mundane, including shopping or just previously walking around). Interestingly, over time, it becomes known that hovering or flying is not legal (though I am not lucid at any point). I get a feeling that I am possibly in the UK (though this is not certain).

Throughout my dream, I mostly fly vertically (upright), about a foot above the ground, though sometimes lean forward to fly in a diagonal position for shorter periods. Some people seem appreciative of me doing this even though it is not lawful. They find satisfaction in my “rebelliousness” of oppressive authority I suppose. I evade the authorities several times by flying (as they are not allowed to fly even if they have the ability, apparently). It seems odd to me that flying is illegal but then I sense that it probably relates to the prevention of getting in the way of aircraft and drones and such. In fact, I get the impression (though this is not certain) that flying may be legal in some areas if it is authorized and supervised by the government, though that does not seem a common situation.

I am shot at, but either they always miss or I am somehow bulletproof. At one point, near an odd composite of my past middle school and a shopping mall, I am shot at and a grenade is also thrown at me. I throw it back and watch the colorful “realistic” explosion near the outer wall of the building. Eventually, I join a couple, a young male and female. The male is apparently not fully human; possibly some sort of animal (such as a lemur) and human hybrid, though he looks mostly human. The girl sings to him at one point. They are like me in that they evade authority and “do what comes naturally”.

From here, I mostly just play around, not causing any fatalities even though I cause explosions and do not like being pursued (though the pursuit has mostly stopped by this point). I watch a “large” silver bus, which seems to be a Greyhound from the 1950s. It moves through an underpass though oddly (based on my full-body presence and perspective) seems only half the size of a real one (though is still fully three-dimensional and with “realistic” movement and momentum otherwise). This is actually typical of my dreams since childhood, where vehicles often seem miniature even though it is otherwise perceived as “normal” (and without me presumed as being a giant). I throw some grenades, which are somewhat like (toy) jacks and are supposedly harmless even though they cause a lot of noise and fire. The bus squeaks to a stop. I am aware that no one is injured but they are probably baffled.

After this, a similar bus approaches, though this one is about three-quarters the size of a real one. I throw more “grenades”, which make more popping noises and fire, but not as large in contrast to the other smaller bus. The three-quarter-sized people do not seem as much in awe as the other (half-sized people) group. (Jacks as small grenades is somewhat of an unusual idea.)

Morning of December 2, 2015. Wednesday.



This dream is about as illogical and distorted as they come relating to perspective and focus, though there are a few vivid parts (such as when I read the writing on our ceiling - and for some reason, ceiling writing has only appeared in dreams over the last year or so). The location is unknown. It may be a distorted version of our first apartment on Gellibrand Street in Clayfield. The rooms are all in a line with at least two doors opening to a public hall.

Over time, there is a focus on UFO events. This makes no sense, as I am only ever inside our apartment looking at our wall (on the other side of the public hall’s wall only) and ceiling. Still, it is somehow as if I am seeing into the “real” sky at times (though not at all consistent in perspective and awareness). An egg-shaped light moves on our ceiling and down our wall and at one point, seems to direct a ray into a “military building”.

This “military building” (to my left - on the other end of our apartment) turns out to be our television. I go over to it and see a young male (who reminds me of classmate Steve J when he was a teenager). He seems to be in a radio station and there are no other people visible. The ceiling at his location seems to have been damaged and he ducks a couple times as if the ceiling is unstable or shaking, but the scene is not very dramatic. Oddly, I am able to talk to him as if he can see me directly through the television screen. I ask him if he saw the ray of light come down and hit his building but he says “no”. Still, static and distorted horizontal bars appear on the picture after a time and I am wondering what is going on. (As far as I recall, this is the first time I have dreamt of talking with someone in a television broadcast. I do question the logic of him being able to directly see me with no evidence of a camera anywhere on my side - as again, he seems to look directly at me from the screen - but I do not become lucid. We talk for awhile but my dream shifts slightly).

I am then in a conversation with two people that remind me only a little of my sister Carol and her second husband Mel (and there seem to be aspects of other people’s faces integrated, though I cannot be sure who they are). I explain to them how I watch the sky at certain times very late at night or very early in the morning prior to sunrise and always see mysterious lights (lifelong dream focus) - some of which seem natural and some of which seem based on unknown technology. Yet again, this seems “true to reality” as happening all the time, but in reality, such events only happened twice (once in Florida with a slowly moving egg-shaped pale light and once in Wisconsin where it looked the same but was immediately followed by an “explosion” of the aurora borealis).

Eventually, I notice a large lump in our bed, implied head (under the quilt) nearest the wall (our bed lengthways out from the wall near our kitchen door when assuming our Gellibrand Street apartment). I become wary and uncertain how this seeming stranger got into our home and wonder if he is dangerous and I also notice our kitchen door to the public hall is open. I go and get my barbel and hit him hard on the shoulder from the side of the bed though not hard enough to badly injure him. He moves out from under the blanket a bit (without getting up) and it turns out to be my brother-in-law Robert S. This is a surprise but I apologize and ask him if I hurt him that badly and he says “no”, though seeming quite groggy.

When farther back from our open kitchen door, I see writing on our ceiling directly above our bed, in three rows of hand-printed felt-tip marker ink. I read it closely and it says “First faking by Bob. It ain’t here.” Looking back a couple times later, it shows the same text as before (which is atypical as writing often changes when looking back). Apparently, Robert (Bob) had somehow caused all the UFO events due to being annoyed with people believing in such things - but this is not certain because when I ask him if he wrote the message on our ceiling, he says “yes” but later says that he did not do it.

From here, the couple that vaguely reminds me of my sister Carol and her second husband approach me. The male asks me what I want to eat, showing me a large serving tray (what is it with serving trays in dreams lately?) which reminds me somewhat of the layout of a cheap and virtually inedible TV dinner (though about twice the size). I am not hungry and not keen on eating right now and this realization, along with a slight frustration on knowing how to say “no” to the other male, shakes me out of my dream.