Morning of May 31, 2017. Wednesday. I am sitting on the floor in the lounge room in our present home on W Street (though it is bigger yet with less features). My wife Zsuzsanna and our youngest son are present. He is playing a Skylanders game though is ready to play a new one with a new figure which Zsuzsanna had apparently just bought for seventy dollars. The game is also new. The toy figure that fits onto a joystick-like device is a horse of mostly yellow and brown tones. The figure is rendered into the game. At first, I thought it was going to be a human or at least an anthropomorphic character. Instead, I eventually see that the toy figure and the rendered video game image looks like a horseshoe-shaped horse facing left in profile. (It also reminds me somewhat of an arched Halloween cat.) Our son plays for a short time before the joystick falls apart. There is some sort of small rod from it that goes through the top of the head of the Skylander figure and falls out, causing the rest of the entire game controller and figure to fall apart. He is upset. I think about trying to fix it, but notice tiny screws on the floor mixed in with pieces that I am not sure are even part of the game controller. I think about taking it back for a refund, though this idea quickly fades. I get annoyed and decide to just discard it. I also decide to get rid of the game as well, but this part is unusual in that I start to dismantle the whole works (thus subliminally initiating the biological waking mechanism) like a three-dimensional setup rather than just taking out the cartridge. This dream is a result of my temporary dream self (unstable higher range personified subconscious) not being fully linked to the dream state because of slightly disrupted sleep. It is a metaphor for “not holding the dream together” (and my dream self subliminally wanting to “put the dream back together”). I have had hundreds of dreams of this nature since early childhood, always when my sleep has been slightly disrupted by an environmental factor. The horse represents the essence of physical energy (as in “horsepower”), similar to car symbolism in some states, symbolizing the potential for healing and rejuvenating energies in real time. It is not a real horse here as it is caught within the sleep disruption (and the disruption of a more viable rejuvenating state). On a secondary level, it possibly relates to our youngest son not being an adult in control of his life and still needing us to be in control, though I am certainly not annoyed in any way by that fact, though it does suggest he might need more vitamins (or a stronger immune system). Still, something “falling apart” (or falling in general) is just a very common dream cessation (waking) metaphor I have seen continuously all my life.
Morning of May 31, 2017. Wednesday. In my dream, there is firstly the common water induction factor (which has been relevant to at least one to two dreams per night for over fifty years), and it is rendered as the ocean this time (deeper sleep and a potential link to the collective unconscious). There is the typical ambiguity of being indoors and outdoors at the same time. My dream progresses from my first location of a computer setup and bed to a more relevant (to real life) waking symbolism setting where I am then in our present home (though still with a sense of being outside even though I see Zsuzsanna sleeping in our bed in one of the last scenes). I seem to be part of an Internet group with three people of whom I do not know at all and had never met; two males and a female. Our virtual presence on the webpage is shown as a small paragraph (of about five or six lines) with a current photograph in the upper left corner of each person’s profile paragraph and present status. We talk to each other with microphones, though we sometimes type messages. Our talk is mainly about a large plesiosaurus that is not far from the ocean’s surface in the area near the beach. It does not pose a threat of any kind regardless of its cliché “sea serpent” associations. The unknown female seems to talk the most over time. Eventually, there is mention of how the creature had apparently been bumped by another animal underneath. This event does not seem problematic but dominates the last part of the online conversation. Oddly, one male talks about the event as if it was he that had been nudged. Eventually, it seems as if the others are offline and probably sleeping. I somehow see a scene where a very large dolphin nudges the stomach of the plesiosaurus (while swimming in the same direction just under it, implied to be to my left), though this is seemingly not an aggressive act. I notice that the dolphin is of a very unusual mottled pattern, mainly of purple and pink, almost reminiscent of a bed sheet pattern (though I do not make this association while in my dream). I decide to contact one of the others to report this. I wake up one of the males (by calling him with a telephone) and he seems somewhat confused and annoyed in being woken up at first. I describe how the dolphin is a very large but likely unknown species. Eventually, the scene shifts to where we are physically with each other in an area that seems modeled after the southeast grounds of my middle school (where I was last present in 1975). I mostly sit on the ground while the other three walk around, though one male talks to me (while standing) for a short time. Somehow, the location still seems the same on one level. The unknown female dominates the rest of the waking transition, which becomes distorted and illogically sustained. She tries to tell me something that I have to ask her to keep repeating (at least six times) as I do not catch the last word (a very common dream event). I think she might be saying the word “blue” at the end of the question but I am not sure. The phrase itself seems mostly like gibberish. Eventually, I just say “yes” and tell her my last name, which may not be what she was talking about (though my surname does at least rhyme with “blue”). I go over to where Zsuzsanna is sleeping (the indoor dynamics becoming a little more dominant than the sense of being outside) and there is the essence of where we live now in reality. She does not wake. (This is a typical dream setting shift where I walk from the grounds of my middle school in America to within our present home in Australia without my dream self regarding the impossibility at all. Still, this linear symbolism validates that dreaming of a school is often an attempt by the limited temporary dream self to get back to current whole conscious self identity, which is then indirectly shown as still being asleep in reality, though my dream self only sees Zsuzsanna in this case.) I see that I have the journal of the unknown female. It is somewhat like a mix of dream journal and real-life diary. It also has a number of scribbles and references to pills (and apparently illegal drugs), something about “taking the cruel pill” and odd illogical forms of supposed art, which is mainly just random lines, partial sketches, and random words. The fact that this unknown female is so undesirable in the last stage of the waking symbolism is a subliminal incentive for me to wake at this time and join my real partner in life. (In fact, the personified preconscious as such is often very annoying and imposing, but this depends on which part of the sleep cycle I am in, and time and time again, for over fifty years, is precisely linked to my circadian rhythms dynamics.) Despite the unusual nature of this dream in regard to the sea serpent, it is a very typical lifelong-established combination of dream signs (residual subliminal memories of having fallen asleep) and dream state induction symbolism and waking symbolism. The bumping of the dolphin against the plesiosaurus is a symbolic carryover of a recent dream where I drove a car between two vehicles in the street and nudged the streetcar (so that it rolled to the intersection without a conductor). This is symbolic of nudging Zsuzsanna in my sleep in real time. (In fact, many dreams have dynamics based on current environmental factors, something that people who believe in “dream interpretation” in the popular but naïve usage of the term completely ignore.) Projecting (and expanding) my imaginary dream body as a streetcar in one dream (without my conscious self identity being able to link to it to “drive” - depending on the stage of sleep) and as a plesiosaurus in this one, may be purely incidental, though a plesiosaurus, when passive, is symbolic of being in a more relaxed sleep while a streetcar rolling to an intersection is waking symbolism (though also analogous to rolling over in my sleep without being fully awake). (The plesiosaurus symbolism as such has occurred since around age six.)
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