Blue_Opossum

Morning of March 26, 2017. Sunday.



I am in a distorted scene where the main characters seem unknown, but could be implied to be versions of certain relatives, especially as I am in a variation of the Loomis Street house’s backyard. There is no fence on the south side as was in reality.

The neighbors to the south are in a house that is to the west a full house distance more (into what otherwise was the backyard) than the real location. The neighbors seem to be versions of neighbors I had in Florida as a boy but their daughter is not seen. However, I do hear the father and his supposed daughter arguing when I am outside at night (apparently when she is visiting, though she is much older than her parents, which makes no sense; that is, she is about fifty and the “father” seems in his thirties). Someone loudly says, “That is a really stupid thing to argue about”.

There is one scene where I am lying on my left side at the northwest corner of their house. It is still nighttime. The man comes out (from what seems to be the back door near the northeast corner of the house) and is oddly not angry at my imposition (though he still seems annoyed and seems to take on a somewhat sarcastic attitude). He throws a blanket on me and tells me to have a good night’s sleep, though more to himself as he thinks I am sleeping. After he goes back inside, I get up and go to the other backyard.

The main scene involves an unusual vegetation feature on the back of the Loomis Street house (to the left of the back door when outside). There are at least two large vines, one growing oranges and the other grapefruit. Mixed in with these dense plants are a large number of spiderwebs and many golden silk orb-weaver spiders, both adults and newly hatched.

A few people visit and say that I could probably sell the citrus fruits. I pick one and it has a lot of small bumps on it, the peel yellowish in spots. The rest do not seem fully ripe. The vegetation goes very high; up to the roof. I would need a ladder to get many of them. I get the impression that people would not want to buy them due to small spiders possibly being inside some of them, though mostly just under the peel. (Considering that I lived next to an orange grove for years, it seems unusual that my dream self thought of citrus as growing on vines.)

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Morning of March 22, 2017. Wednesday.



This is a very long and vivid dream with a lot of different events. The location is not known, but it is implied to take place in our home in most scenes and there are rooms from various houses we have lived.

I become aware of what I first think is a snake that is hanging down from a hanging planter. Soon, it flawlessly transforms into a long leaf. I start talking to my family about what I had seen. I want to film it but for some reason the camera is not available, which annoys me. Over time, this creature changes into many other things, based on some sort of learning curve related to being in the same place more than once. I do not refer to it as “extraterrestrial” until the last segment, although I am not sure if it really is from another planet.

I handle this creature, which in its original form, is some sort of worm. At times, it is more like a miniature egg though is very malleable; somewhat like clay, somewhat like a leech. I place it on notebook paper and it transforms into a pencil. (This same scene occurs at least three times, as I repeat my experiments to see what it does.)

In some cases, it merely changes color when I place it on a surface, though its color always perfectly matches the surface color. It does not really seem to try to escape when I hold it.

There is a scene where I drink a cup of water or other liquid at a table. My throat feels a bit strange, as if something is stuck in it, and I look down into the cup and see that the liquid is filled with tiny pale worms swimming about in the water, all upward and out from the center. A young black male tells me that what I am drinking came from McDonald’s. He tells me how he did not want to be a part of it, but that they put these creatures in some drinks and normal earthworms in others as some sort of test. The several worms I had swallowed become one large one after I remove them from my throat. I am not concerned in any way. It looks just like the original worm.

I place it on a moped seat (which for some reason is indoors, the room seeming like my den on Stadcor Street, the moped facing the doorway though leaning against the wall). The worm oddly transforms into an unusual human-like girl (who remains sitting on the moped) but hairless and with bright pink skin and slight feline characteristics. The other male looks on and scowls. “Oh no, I’m having none of this,” he says.

Most of the rest of my dream involves more experiments where it goes through a number of intriguing and even beautiful multicolored changes. I also place it on a pillow in one of the final scenes as a dream-sign-based waking precursor, with non-lucid dream control.

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This dream is all about transformation and adapting to the dream state as the worm does not change anything else; only itself, as an amazing analogy to one type of dream state alchemy, though the worm exhibited far more of a natural and automatic control than I ever had in non-lucid dreams (although I have transformed into different things in the past, including both animals and furniture as well as utilizing invisibility, phasing through walls and roofs of cars, and flying since early childhood). Of course, there is a big difference between adapting to a dream or dream environment and fully controlling a dream.

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Morning of March 19, 2017. Sunday.

Dream #: 18,353-03. Reading Time: 1 min 38 sec.



Ben Walton (as from the fifth or sixth season of “The Waltons”) finds a litter of bulldog puppies in a large basket near the end of an alley. There is a male that has unusual markings. I am not sure if someone else is still looking after them (though Ben may have bought the puppy).

Before getting the puppy, Ben performed calculations and concluded that once an adult, it would produce offspring, possibly with the same markings, with a pedigree, even though it would technically be a mongrel. It will supposedly make him rich.

Later, there is a scene where Erin and Ben Walton are playing a game at a small table. They appear to be gambling with boxes of drinking straws. Ben has about six straws (which seems to mean he is losing), and Erin has two.

Erin finds some notebook paper with Ben’s writing and somehow understands that he was using a calculation to gain an unfair advantage (even though he was losing in this case) regarding the supposedly special puppy. She starts complaining about his selfishness and supposed cheating.

He reminds her of the supposed proverb “Visit yourself before you visit someone else.“ It supposedly means that you should look at your faults or limitations before finding fault with others. It turns out that his calculations were incorrect and the puppy will not make him rich after all.

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My dream changes into an unrelated scene. Nancy (with Ronald) Reagan (July 6, 1921-March 6, 2016) is on an airplane flight to California, traveling from somewhere west, going over the Pacific Ocean. She is going to have and raise two of our babies (possibly male and female). I do not consider how outrageous that is. I believe that Zsuzsanna and I will be able to meet them one day (when they will only then learn that we are their real parents).

I watch a monitor near the top of a wall in an unfamiliar building. It has four digits in an LED display that require reading from right to left. The original value is “0 0 3 1” at one point (to be read as “1 3 0 0”). I wait in anticipation because it is supposed to read as “1 1 0 0”, which it soon does. It means that she had one baby, and then two hours later, the other one. (There is skewed logic whereby “two hours” is subtracted from the three to read as one baby.)

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Early evening of March 16, 2017. Thursday.



I am viewing a beautiful intricate scene that looks much like an animated embroidery scene in a light blue silvery monochrome. It mainly features a peacock, but there is also a large bell that hangs down from the center of a mirrored branch and vine pattern.

The peacock climbs down, eventually becoming upside-down, and crawls into the bell.

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This is very straightforward. The embroidery is of the type I saw on pillowcases when young, so there is the dream sign, then the return flight metaphor activates with a bell as the waking prompt. Although it decodes into solely dreaming and waking transition metaphors, it is unique and new (as well as with beautiful imagery).

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Update: Zsuzsanna was buying a couple second-hand embroidery books at the time of my dream, certainly not something she does on any regular basis, and there was no way I could have known.

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Morning of March 13, 2017. Monday.



The first scene involves wandering around in a mostly empty circus tent that is connected to at least one other one. We had apparently bought two-dollar tickets (for all the members of our family) to see some sort of comedic monologue and perhaps something else, but it appears that there is going to be no event as such when the time approaches. There are not that many people around. I am very annoyed that they are not going to honor our tickets. It seems like very bad business practice. The ringmaster walks into a different featureless area and talks about random subjects unrelated to their original plans and even seems annoyed by people expecting them to do a show. I get the impression that he does not care at all about honoring any of the tickets ever sold at any time in the various locations they travel to.

My family and I leave and soon find some sort of odd Halloween display at a park. There is a scene where Zsuzsanna is sitting in a swing on one end of a swing set (to my left as I am at a distance, though walking closer to the situation, approaching from behind them). Our youngest son is in the middle swing but there is an unknown boy (slightly older than our son) who is bullying our son (and to his right) and grabbing at the chain of his swing. Our son is trying to push him away. The unruly boy has bruises and scratches on his face and arms (though likely not caused by our son). As I approach, I tell him to leave and he does. I then comment, “Some parents sure do not know how to watch their kids or teach them anything”. Oddly, an unknown female who I first thought was the unruly boy’s mother unexpectedly agrees with me. (She had been sitting on the ground on the opposite side of the swing set, facing my direction) However, she turns out to not be the boy’s mother after all and has her own son nearby (to her left).

There is an unusual scenario where (stereotypical) Halloween witches are running around and randomly screaming at people. There is a short time where I decide to take on this role myself (and put on a Halloween witch outfit and wig) but I soon become bored of it as I cannot seem to scream correctly. It comes out rather course and not that loud. The patrons just look at me with slight amusement.

There is an unusual scene where an unfamiliar younger male in minimal Halloween makeup is playing two alternating notes on an electronic keyboard. It sounds similar to the “Jaws” theme. At the same time he is playing this motif, a set of French doors on the opposite side of the playground area open and close in perfect time to the note patterns. I do not find this scary but it does seem a bit curious. It is almost as if he is trying to give me some sort of clue about something (likely the preconscious indicating that I can leave the dream by going through the doors - or perhaps cause it to shift, even though I am not lucid).

There is a scene of a tall cylindrical structure that seems to be somewhat like an enclosed pile driver. A small metal structure comes down as our youngest son goes inside the building when he seems curious of it. It is just big enough for one person to stand inside in the center. The lowering structure pushes on him but does not seem that heavy or forceful even though I was wary of it at first. Still, he seems to have difficulty with his legs in attempting to get out, but does not seem injured and gets out on his own. (It almost seems like an unlikely composite of pile driver, elevator, farm silo, and a circus strength tester where the bell is rung. It may be loosely based on the playground rocket I sometimes explored as a child in La Crosse.)

In the last scene, I feel very cheerful. It seems to be nighttime. I am with Zsuzsanna and I eventually notice a huge object towering in the sky about a block away. It looks like the underside of a giant microscope with about eight objective lenses. However, I consider that it is some sort of movie equipment for recording a crowd of people. I find it awe-inspiring and try to get Zsuzsanna’s attention for her to look at it, but there seems to be something that is somehow blocking her view of it.

The second-from-last scene is an obvious but distorted waking precursor. It is like an incomplete elevator, and of course an elevator serves as a waking precursor or sometimes induction (just as in guided meditation and certain types of hypnosis). Still, the last segment indicated the consciousness shift (and a higher clarity) and a curious subliminal association with my conscious self in the habit of examining my dreams and dream self (as if with a giant microscope).

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Morning of March 10, 2017. Friday.



I am swimming under the ocean (and I can breathe underwater as in many previous dreams since early childhood). I am near the ocean bottom. The imagery is beautiful. A shark swims toward me but turns and swims to my left as we move past each other and I am not threatened or even acknowledged in any way. There are other fish, including sharks, here and there.

I soon notice a submerged bus on the ocean floor. It appears to be empty but I decide to explore. Eventually, covering the bus, is what I assume to be long equidistant strands of some sort of seaweed, and yet oddly, it looks more like green Christmas tinsel garlands arranged vertically around the perimeter of the bus, each about a foot apart. They sway with the ocean current and actually seem to “reach out” at times. They establish a sense of joy though I remain puzzled about this seeming setting distortion.

Curiously, my dream temporarily becomes a dream within a dream, of viewing sparkling Christmas ornaments and swaying garlands. I seem to circle intricately decorated Christmas trees and look deep within their branches and feel intense joy. Soon though, I am back under the ocean in the original setting.

I swim into the bus through the open doors at the front right side. The driver’s seat is empty and it looks like the whole bus may be empty. I swim towards the back. I notice a human body (female) wrapped up in transparent plastic, in a middle seat on the right, wrapped with a cord around the middle. For a short time, a potential (flight symbol) waking prompt distorts the scene and the inside of the bus seems more like the inside of an airplane where men would line up on each side to be ready to parachute (and all the singular one-person seats face outwards now instead of towards the front of the bus). I try to focus more and the bus temporarily becomes a separating construct of giant ribs after an impression of thin white splitting plastic, pieces of the seats floating outwards and upwards. However, I am soon back in the original setting.

I look at the girl’s face through the plastic. She is unfamiliar but alive. Her eyes glow brightly as she smiles. There is something I do with my mind that I do not recall ever doing before (which also occurred in another dream of this date). I think it has something to do with a dream of May 18, 2015 (“Unusual Bird”), except in that dream, I was watching the event happening to someone else from a distance. It has something to do with deliberately superimposing the essence of your face onto a dream character’s face (almost like forcing a three-dimensional “mirror” around the person’s head, yet internally and externally at the same time). There is an extraordinary sensation and skewed awareness that cannot be accurately described. (I also get a vague impression that this may be the supposed “new” entity or “contact” from a few other dreams.)

For a moment, her head becomes that of a shark (though somewhat anthropomorphic as it looks directly outward from the otherwise vertical body), but changes back, seemingly implying a playful sense to demonstrate an ability to quickly change. I carry her out of the bus (though still with the plastic around her) and swim up to an underwater cliff. Perhaps she is a shark but I still think she should be rescued. I carry her over my left shoulder as I swim.

From here, there is intense and vivid fractal imagery which flashes and turns. I am still seemingly underwater though and continue to “swim” through the surreal patterns. I also see flashing Mandelbrot patterns.

I watch an orange octopus (which seems ambiguously entwined within the spiraling fractal imagery for a time). There is more than one at times. Looking from underneath the octopus at one point, I get the impression of a billowing and waving skirt, which temporary becomes such an image for a short time. The octopus imagery is very detailed and correct at first. However, there is one point where I see an “octopus” that seems to have virtually endless tentacles. It sits on the cliff.

My dream shifts into more fractal images and impressions of the shiny patterns inside oyster shells.

As I wake, I experience the most unusual hypnic jerk I have ever had. It feels like numerous small tendrils of electricity grabbing my foot and lower leg and lifting it up. My entire leg moves upward as I wake before it drops back onto our bed. (I had been sleeping in a position where part of my right side and much of my stomach is on the mattress.) Typically, hypnic jerks and other waking muscle movement (other than my nightly back spasm) are not this sustained (though my leg usually does jump a bit) and I do not recall feeling individual tendrils of energy “grabbing me” or “attempting to lift me” like this before. It was very strange and interesting…and something new and appreciated (regardless of it being somewhat startling, although because the effect is similar to a dream I had in America where the energy of Zsuzsanna’s essence was fully felt upon me, it did seem external - though I am not sure of the source - if it was Zsuzsanna, who was sleeping near me at the time, I do not recall her “sending” this way before).

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Morning of March 7, 2017. Tuesday.



My family and I as we are now are at the Loomis Street house, though others are there, including my brother Dennis (older half-brother on my mother’s side) and Crystal (Zsuzsanna’s younger half-sister on her mother’s side). There is also one unknown female.

At one point, the unknown female makes a comment about wanting to be friends with someone with a “spark of Irish”. I make a comment about “a drip of Irish”, which seems to be risqué.

I have a few books with thin cardboard pages that seem related to foldout setups with cutouts though I am not sure of their exact nature or whether they are related to a game or are just for display. They all seem to have a girl as the main character. One of the last ones I notice is “Alice in Wonderland”. Still, there seems to be another one that possibly belongs to someone else. It has cooking as a theme. There is a (overhead view) frying pan cutout and another cutout that represents food (frontal view) that stands vertically on the first by using a tab and slot. Additionally, this goes onto a page displaying an overhead view of a stove element, also by use of a tab and slot. There is something mentioned by the female about something sharp being found in a new container of yogurt after I incorrectly remember that food poisoning was mentioned in the news.

The unknown female seems sad about something and seems to consider herself as being out of place. I “remember” that there is a time-traveling military group that is presently operating from the shed (in the Loomis Street backyard). I go out and there are three unknown people, two female and one older male. The male is in charge of everything. He goes up to the unknown female from the house and asks her if she can “climb a ladder”, with additional questions about the military and whether she can cope. She seems hesitant and the male, who is a general, loses patience. I go back into the house and the unknown female follows. Crystal is sitting in the armchair next to the telephone. She seems to be in somewhat of an aggressive or defensive mood. I catch myself (though more as pretense of the kind expressed in instinctual dreaming) saying something about “depending on what year they are going to” so that others in the room can “overhear” and perhaps catch on that they are supposed to be time travelers. The unknown female leaves the house through the front door. (There is also something later mentioned absentmindedly by me about the military group originally being from the distant past but going to the distant future.)

I see Dennis and he seems to be only in his early thirties. He is wearing an army trench coat. I absentmindedly pull at the front and all the buttons come undone. I then apologize. He buttons up his coat again. I ask him if he wants to be part of the military and he says “no” and mentions something about Korea and Iraq. I tell him that he still might be interested in joining this group.

We go out to the backyard. I look around for the time travelers. We see an unfamiliar unusual-looking young boy in thick black glasses as he is looking around near the south fence. He does not look in our direction. “Oh, that’s not her,” I say, referring to one of the females with the military team. We go out near the alley.

Suddenly, there is a very loud roaring sound, like a wild animal. It is continuous and growing louder and closer from the south. I am thinking that it is probably a tyrannosaurus that is loose in the neighborhood and that it will likely find us and perhaps eat us if it turns its head easterly and sees us. There seems to be no time to run. Dennis and I just stand where we are. (Dennis is to my right, north of me, but somewhat closer to the alley.)

A large woolly mammoth charges by, up the alley, heading north. It keeps going and is no threat but continues to roar as it passes. Dennis stands where he is and regards it casually, with mild interest.

I notice a bright glow inside the shed, visible through the window from several feet. My youngest son also sees it and runs out toward the building. I am thinking that it is the three time travelers who are now leaving, activating some sort of machine.

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As this is a very long dream, I am only including obvious (real-time) symbolism. The unknown female potentially climbing a ladder is an association with Zsuzsanna waking up from sleep. The absentminded unbuttoning of the coat is typical of instinctual dreaming and relates to uncovering the nature of the preconscious as well as preparing to come out from under the bed sheet, though the consciousness transitions were extended here. The mammoth is the form of my unconscious “leaving” the dream setting. The glowing light is the emerging conscious self identity, analogous to sunrise. The notion of time travel validates non-lucid dream control.

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Morning of March 4, 2017. Saturday.



I am on the Loomis Street porch and there are soon a number of unfamiliar people, most of whom are closer to the porch door. We are on the north end of the porch. There is a point at which one of the others talks about smoking. There are a few different types of plants in small transparent plastic bags and I am not certain if some are meant to contain marijuana or tobacco but I assume they may have marijuana. I also have a braided section of sweetgrass. I light it and deliberately breathe in the smoke for some reason.

An unknown girl wants me to roll a cigarette and seems to think I have better tobacco or marijuana than her. I tell her that I do not have any papers. After a pause, I ask her if I can use one of hers. I go over and see that there is a large sheet of thin paper she has on her lap (which is atop a book), a little bigger than a sheet of notebook paper. It seems unlikely that someone would roll such a large cigarette. I reason that doing so would require a number of folds before rolling. I ask her if I should use only half the paper by tearing it across the width and she says no with a tone of annoyance in her voice.

I take it to the other side of the porch (the right of the living room entrance) and put it on top of a closed turntable that is sitting on a high-set table. I then ask her if she wants to do it. She gets up, seemingly somewhat annoyed. She takes out a large plastic bag and begins to drop a large amount of dried leaves on the paper. Pieces are falling everywhere, much of it outside of the paper. My dream becomes a little more vivid at this point.

My mother (appearing for the first time in this dream) looks out through the doorway as if puzzled by what is going on and asks her what she is doing. I also ask her what she is doing since I get the impression she is wasting much of it as only some is going onto the paper, much of it going over the table and floor.

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Understanding dream dynamics:

• Although my mother was the one to wake me to get up for school for so many years, she does not usually appear as the emergent consciousness factor (or even the preconscious) in the final moments of a dream (threshold dream type - that is, when the waking metaphor is rendered as someone or something appearing in a doorway).
• The porch setting is usually only rendered at a specific level of consciousness in the final dream of a sleep cycle, as it links to a specific form of liminal space (both in dreams and in reality). This has been the case since early childhood.
• There have been a number of other dreams where smoke has appeared on a porch (not always the same source). Although smoke is a coalescence factor, it seems a no-brainer that it is associated with fire (which represents neuronal activity).
• Doing something in a dream that one would not do in real life is evidence of instinctual dreaming (and non-lucid dream control). (For example, I would never associate with drug users in real life.)

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Morning of March 4, 2017. Saturday.

Dream #: 18,338-01. Reading time (optimized): 1 min.



I am possibly in the Daintree Rainforest. There is a river nearby. It seems to be late at night or a few hours before dawn.

I am a young girl, and I have no discernible association with my waking life identity or any recall of it. I have full body awareness with a realistic perception of my small size.

After I walk into a clearing, an unknown man approaches me. He tells me to climb a particular vine and lifts me so I can hang on to it. The vividness of my movement is realistic. I feel the physical effort I use to climb higher, even tiring for a short time now and then. I am unsure why I need to climb the vine, but I obey the man, who soon runs off.

I climb higher and higher. In the distance, after I am near the top of the vine where it hangs from a tall tree, I see the heads of two dinosaurs, probably tyrannosaurs. They do not see me, but I am wary. (My distance from the ground may not be beyond their reach.) I crouch behind a couple of thicker branches. The dinosaurs do not approach the area I am in by the time I wake.

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Climbing represents trying to return to consciousness. This dream’s process is vestibular modulation (as exit point modulation) with a female simulacrum (me) though the male simulacrum initiates the process by placing me on the vine. The potential of being swallowed breaks the illusion.

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Morning of March 1, 2017. Wednesday.



I am sitting in an armchair. I recall that there had been cheerful interaction with my family at a previous point. However, the setting firstly seems to be my Cubitis bedroom. The armchair is against the west wall, at the south end of my room (where no armchair had ever been in real life).

My room is somewhat dark. I begin to hear, seemingly from just outside the window, some sort of very unusual sound, almost like an electronic squeak (actually caused by subliminal awareness of a real environmental sound). I hear it a few times and eventually realize that it is someone in the front yard who is not supposed to be there.

I leave my room and walk around to the front of the house through the living room to possibly catch the imposer. At this point, it is still seemingly modeled mostly after the Cubitis house. However, when I open the front door, the area is completely different and unfamiliar, though my dream self does not register it as such (as I erroneously “recognize” it as our present address). Contrary to the implied Cubitis setting, there is no carport. There is no driveway or highway beyond. Instead, there is a huge front yard, mostly with very tall grass other than where it is short from about ten feet out from the front of the house. It now seems to be morning and I notice a beautiful blue sky.

I see a young unfamiliar male running through the front yard from my left (from where the noise was likely coming from). He seems to be very amused. He keeps running to the northwest, where there are more houses in both northerly rows and westerly rows. The house I am in seems somewhat isolated (mostly due to the huge front yard). I yell at him saying that I have weapons. He keeps running but I do not even think about chasing after him even though he seems to think I might while maintaining his seemingly cheerful countenance.

Looking at the front yard at the tall grass that is farther out, I also notice a clear path of short grass that goes for a very long distance. I feel very cheerful and even lucky about this feature even though I am annoyed by the idea of having to mow the rest of the yard on each side of the long path. I reason that grass does not grow much over all the old established paths. In the distance is also a beautiful mountain.

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The waking transition is atypical here, though the first prompt (preconscious running off to my right) still oriented to my right as it most often is. It is atypical for the personified preconscious to run off rather than more directly initiate the waking dynamics. The path through the tall grass is a clue, especially regarding my clarity of it at this point (even though I remain in the doorway until waking, which is in itself a waking event as a door represents a potential shift in consciousness and often serves as the exit point of a dream). A mountain represents subliminal focus on the conscious self and the goal of waking from sleep. Still, had I stepped out from the doorway, this might have induced a lucid state as has occurred in many previous dreams.

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Morning of March 1, 2017. Wednesday.

Dream #: 18,335-03. Reading time (optimized): 2 min.



Moving through a deeper state of water induction, after letting my lucidity fade, I recall a big fish in an aquarium. The fish takes up nearly the entire aquarium. An old man with a long white beard owns it. I see this on a large screen in an unfamiliar bedroom. Zsuzsanna is with me at times. I am wearing clothes, but I mostly stay on my left side in bed with my head facing the opposite direction as the monitor.

The screen covers most of the upper two-thirds of the wall. The fish is facing left in profile. The old man is in his living room, and another unknown male is in the background.

Eventually, I realize there is an octopus aquarium (owned by the same old man). It becomes the dominating scene on the big screen. I find amusement in watching baby octopuses swimming. There are hundreds of them. They are too tiny to discern much detail. (It vaguely reminds me of looking at stars in the night sky.) Zsuzsanna watches the images for a time. I point out small strands of food they are eating. (I was first unable to tell the difference between the food particles and the baby octopuses, but my view zooms in at times.)

While I occasionally watch the screen, I hear former schoolmate Tony talking to his grandfather (even though no one else is present). This event was in the past, though I am hearing it now. On notebook paper, he wrote several phrases in a tribal language (erroneously from Papua New Guinea, but it should be a Native American language) taught by his grandfather. Tony had discarded many of his belongings. Plastic bags full of what he threw out teleported to the bed. (I do not consider how impossible this is, though I get the impression that it might have something to do with a random “download.”)

I look through some of his plastic grocery store bags, noticing the notebook pages (some folded in half) with his writing (though I do not recall any of the phrases), as well as other items. I am unsure of what I should do. Most of his stuff was from before eighth grade. There is no sign he would know what I saw of his.

Zsuzsanna comes in again, telling me she found some of my older writing. She places some papers (that are stapled together at the upper left) at the foot of the bed. I see a story or long dream journal entry printed in pencil I supposedly wrote at around age seven. It is at least twelve pages on notebook paper. Written on the top line of the first page is “Frankenstein.” A bit farther to the right is “1948,” followed by “by” and my name. It puzzles me as I think it should be “1968.” I am unsure why I would have written that year other than in error. As I become more puzzled about why I might have written “1948,” I wake.

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