Morning of December 17, 2017. Sunday. In my dream, I am in an unknown house, though my sister Marilyn (deceased) is present. It is not seemingly implied to be the Loomis Street house. She appears as she did in the 1960s. I have no recall of her deceased status. I have the awareness that a laptop computer does not use 3.5-inch disks (and that they are old technology), and yet I have no viable memory of the last twenty years of my life. (Dreams are strange that way.) Marilyn does mention this game as not being compatible with her computer. There is a set of about seven disks that are needed to install and run the game. Eventually, we somehow get the game to work. It is holographic, though also seemingly solid at times, and fills nearly half of the unknown room. Two spherical aquariums appear on each side of the playing field, near the center of each side, where other features appear on each end, though I am mostly only focused on the aquariums. The virtual aquariums are about three feet high, though elevated to about five feet from the floor with a stand. Apparently, the game involves some sort of event when an anthropomorphic fish emerges from at least one of the aquariums, though no actual game play ensues. There are some resets of this dream where parts repeat, though much is not that clearly defined. An aquarium represents the mental model of the nature of the dream state (in real time). In this case, the two spherical aquariums symbolize the sleeping minds of Zsuzsanna and me. The anthropomorphic fish would represent the emergent consciousness “coming out of sleep”, sleep of which is symbolized as water. RAS quantizes the mental model of the dream state in this way at times, more so when sleep is somewhat restless or with “intrusive” environmental factors, based on the analogy of being in a fishbowl when outside noise is more intrusive into sleep, otherwise vaguely similar in waking transition symbolism to the very common water lowering waking symbolism (which has occurred at least once per normal sleeping period for over fifty years, since earliest memory).
Morning of December 15, 2017. Friday. Dream #: 18,624-02. 3 min 20 sec read. Cubitis (irrelevant since 1978) is the first location of my dream, but snow and ice cover my Cubitis home's front yard. My dream self does not hold a recognition of this place, and snow and ice would have never been a feature. Cubitis occurs as an incidental setting rather than having associations with my childhood and teenage years. I am vaguely aware of my conscious self's identity but not my current address or status. I am involved in a treasure hunt but not as a recognized participant. Laverne and Shirley, as the television characters from the original series, are key participants. A vivid segment occurs with a life-size version of the Matchbox car Alvis Stalwart BP Exploration Vehicle. It approaches from the northwest and is functioning as a snowplow. It is nighttime. I am amazed by its size and power, though I am unsure who is driving it. (I know they are one of the treasure hunt participants.) The loud yet soothing noise it makes is vivid. I know I have to get to where the treasure might be before it catches up, though I am only walking fast. Despite the snow and ice, I do not feel cold. I walk briskly through an area toward the south, south of the front yard of the Cubitis house, and the headlights of the vehicle shine on me twice. I try to dodge their beam, yet I feel little concern. (This is a factor of being vaguely aware of daybreak and not wanting to wake yet.) Eventually, although I am still outside, I arrive at a place that looks like a large hall of a house, though the implication is that it is an outside area. (Using a real-life comparison, it is about where the south neighbor's carport would have been.) I notice fast-food wrappers and some papers amidst piles of books and other items to my left. Laverne and Shirley seem confident about finding the treasure at this point. There may be a letter from someone, or another clue, revealing where it is. I realize we are nearing the end of the area designated as part of the treasure hunt. I wonder if the exploration vehicle is still somewhere nearby. My dream's setting, which is still part of the outside treasure hunt, is now a bedroom, with at least one wall and part of the ceiling missing. Laverne and Shirley become annoyed that the treasure may not exist. However, I soon notice an A4-size transparent plastic envelope that is full of shiny gold coins. It is vertically upright and pressed against the south wall just behind some other items. They look like Australian two-dollar coins, but I know they are twenty-dollar coins. Laverne and Shirley are sitting on the bed at this point. I give it to Laverne and soon notice another container of more gold coins. It resembles an A4-size plastic box that we keep documents in, though this one is more transparent. I ask Laverne if I can have some of them, not considering that they should all be mine, as I am the one who found them. She cheerfully agrees I should have some of them. I awake while looking at the supposed twenty-dollar coins sliding out of the first container onto the center of the bed, ready to be counted. (The bed's orientation is from east to west. Its association with where it would be in the setting from where my dream started is unknown.) The "Laverne & Shirley" influence is mainly a metacognitive association with dreaming from hearing the opening theme song so often. It mostly corresponds with the lyrical line, "got a dream and we just know now." "Reaching a bed" has been a fundamental ending to my dreams since childhood, for the self-evident reason I am a metacognitive dreamer. Coins have often featured in my dreams since childhood, from summoning somatosensory dynamics. (It is from wanting to enhance or stabilize my sense of touch while in the dream state, but I also had a silly belief when I was very young that I could pull a coin from out of the dream state). Noticing the sense of touch is one dynamic when emerging from REM atonia. The ambiguity of dream settings and their countless composites of unrelated locations, their continually transforming attribute, and consciously unresolvable indoor-outdoor ambiguity (perception of being in an indoor and outdoor area simultaneously), and partial renderings in otherwise undefined space, is wholly unlike waking life or any factor of reality or memory. The Matchbox car I dreamt of yesterday (the flatbed truck with a house on the back, listed as "Truck with Site Office," though there were two in that dream of different colors), and the Matchbox car appearing here as a life-size vehicle (listed as "Alvis Stalwart" BP Exploration Vehicle), are number 60 and 61 (appearing in my dreams on consecutive days). The sequence may be coincidental or residual thoughts of a dreaming experience from the previous day, integrating into a new dream.
Updated 07-25-2021 at 10:17 AM by 1390