Blue_Opossum

Morning of July 27, 2016. Wednesday.



Even though I am fully lucid, I had entered a very skewed version of “When Wakes the Dreamer!” (first read around age twelve in 1973 in Eerie Magazine). My wife Zsuzsanna is outside talking with an unknown female. They are looking at the horizon at what are apparently unusual events related to the supposed HAARP (apparently closed in 2014) conspiracy. It also seems there may be some sort of military action but not as an imminent threat. San Francisco, as in the story, is “gone”. Misty “tendrils” of either smoke or cloud rise in the distance, some tongue-like.

As I am listening to Zsuzsanna and this unknown female speak, I look up at the nighttime sky and see a huge cloud. It looks much like a human face, mostly like Doug in a particular panel of “When Wakes the Dreamer!” though oddly in the negative (even though I do not recall seeing it in photographic negative at any time in my past). (The word balloon with the image had read “Just moments ago you said that I was aware of things that the mass media would never realize existed! Perhaps!”)

Still, Doug’s huge visage almost seems like pareidolia in the back of my mind (especially as seeing a face in the clouds is a common form of pareidolia - and even though it is a dream, I do not want to embarrass myself). I mostly stare in awe at the sky. I am not that concerned about the female of whom Zsuzsanna is talking to regarding the so-called HAARP weapon. I never draw their attention to this weird cloud at any point even though I consider doing so.

His “tongue” seems to extend and go up along the left side of his face almost to his “forehead” - which is almost like a separate vertical cylindrical cloud formation, not quite like a tornado, but becoming more like a giant pale vertical tomato worm cocoon (distorted by elongation and being rendered in photographic negative). Still, the more closely I stare at it, the more eerie (no pun intended) it appears.

If Doug is the dreamer of my dream, where does that leave me? Certainly it is not my face in the clouds. I find myself wandering through an alley and “returning” to our home, though it is a mostly unfamiliar residence still deemed to be ours.

I discover a package that looks much like a miniature pillow (obvious dream sign) which seems to be on our bed (another obvious dream sign). I am aware it contains a small amount of various organic herbs and seeds that we had ordered, which were quite expensive. However, when I go closer, everything starts popping out of the package, though each at a different time, such as maize flour (the first to somehow “jump” through the unwrapped package), sunflower seeds, fennel seeds, and seemingly thistle seeds as one of the last features (the kind you “make a wish” on). I do not want all of this wasted, so I eat the small amount of maize flour as well as some of the sunflower seeds and fennel seeds that later emerge. (I believe this segment was caused by sounds in my real environment at the time and my dream trying to resolve these sounds by including both dream signs and very slight “nourishment” and an analogy to increasing awareness of physicality.)

---

Morning of July 27, 2016. Wednesday.



One area of a building I find myself in, as I am becoming mostly lucid, seems to be a small private bar, though with several people, mostly unfamiliar, though Ian Somerhalder is here. (This actor was on both “Lost” and “The Vampire Diaries” so curiously can represent both subliminal water induction and dream flight as well as the circadian rhythms factor of nightfall and the dream state, all simultaneously.)

I am lucid, but not viably lucid (to where I can automatically direct everything) and I do not enter apex lucidity (which requires pushing open a heavy wooden door for me or at least going through a porch or open doorway) even though I am aware I am dreaming.

I start talking about how I am dreaming and try to prove this to the patrons of the bar. Ian looks on with a slight interest and becomes curious when I press my hand into the rectangular wooden and metal bar table. However, instead of my hand phasing through the table, the implied polarity is skewed as I push my hand down through the surface so that the wood and metal moves, creating a hand-shaped hole in the top of the table (with some of the metal part ribboning around part of my hand), the main piece sticking to the palm of my hand as I continue to press down. This is not quite what I had intended of course, but Ian still has a look of awe on his face with a vague hint of amusement. I try it a few more times at the main bar, but my hands and fingers now only meet with total solidity. I keep tapping my fingers and hand on the surface and only meet logical resistance as in reality. This annoys me greatly. The counter’s solidity is very realistic and uncompromising.

I leave the area and soon find myself in a shootout with police officers and a number of 1960s gangsters. I do not have a gun and I do not materialize one at any point. I end up in an area where I notice an unknown male of about forty years of age. He is wearing a black shirt that reads (in white letters) “Do not shoot me because I am Claude’s (my full name in possessive) guardian.” I find this very peculiar and thus question why and how an Angel of Retrieval could possibly be in a lucid dream other than as comic relief. I also find this scene (and him) somewhat hypocritical on two levels. Firstly, the shirt is possibly bulletproof, and secondly, I myself have no writing on my own shirt and it is likely not bulletproof either. Still, I somehow manage to dodge all the bullets that are randomly flying everywhere. I try to summon the shirt from his body into my hands, which works, but then decide he can have it anyway.

I then go into a large area where the timber structure of the walls and ceiling is rather complex and a number of people are having a party. I decide to use telekinesis to make the ceiling collapse for no particular reason and leave the building as it collapses behind me.

I end up walking on a very large and wide wharf that extends out about thirty feet or more over a gray ocean and it seems just prior to sunrise. A number of people are present, but no one is familiar. I make eye contact with a random male of about thirty and try to communicate with telepathy but he just stares back blankly. I eventually start touching and pushing people (not aggressively) to see how “stable” they are.

A young girl approaches (probably a young version of my wife Zsuzsanna I perceive as being asleep - thus the ocean, which represents sleep and the dream state) and she seems slightly upset but does not see me at all (even though I am not phased or invisible as far as I know). There are a couple other people in the area. She seems concerned about the dolphin known as “Skipper” and it possibly swimming away or “leaving” her (though this is only by assumption because I think of “Skipper” as a dolphin for some reason, when it is actually supposed to be “Flipper” - so this association with Skipper as a dolphin may be completely wrong, though it does have meaning). I look out at the ocean and start to hear unusual music (an old song I wrote at age twelve based on “When Wakes The Dreamer!” from Eerie Magazine) and decide to leave my dream.

---

This last part is rather interesting and contains an element I could not possibly have known about, as Zsuzsanna had never mentioned that she had her doll named Skipper (which was female) near the ocean (the only doll she took that time), and also, had to leave it behind when her family moved. In my dream though, at least vaguely, I did see “Skipper” as a distortion of “Flipper” which would be me as the dreamer leaving that essence of me behind in the symbolic ocean of sleep (while Zsuzsanna was still sleeping as I woke thus I was “leaving her” as we were then at different levels of consciousness), while it is also an incidental play on “Skippy” (the kangaroo). A doll is also the dreamer within a dream, as it is still and “held” by the superior whole consciousness and not active in sleep.