Blue_Opossum

Morning of June 12, 2017. Monday.



I become aware that I am lying on a snow-covered sidewalk, possibly in La Crosse (where I have not been in real life since February of 1994). I “remember” that I had been with a group of pirates. Presently, I and at least three others are probably in need of assistance. We all are going to be taking at least two headache tablets (even though I do not have a headache). They are all on the ground, near parts of the snow-covered sidewalk. I also see a lot of powder, the appearance of which reminds me of powdered drain cleaner. Within the mostly white powder are slightly larger red, blue, and green grains.

I take only two pills and, even though the others have probably taken four, decide to stop there. I also ingest just a small amount of the powder. Still, I wonder if I had taken too much. (I do not use any kind of drugs or medication in reality.) I feel an unusual blissful sensation as well as a slight vivifying of my dream.

Later, I decide to get up. The other pirates do not follow me at this time. I find my way onto a porch that seems loosely modeled after the King Street mansion’s front porch. I lie on the wooden floor for a short time.

Soon, the leader of the pirates opens the front door and steps out onto his porch to see me lying there on my back. Even though I am a part of his group, he seems annoyed to see me and is going to shoot me. He takes out a flintlock rifle and aims at me. I do not really feel like being shot but I do not attempt to escape or even move. Suddenly, another pirate appears behind him on the porch (having just come in from outside) and shoots him in the back of the neck. This other pirate is Charlie Pace (a “Lost” television series character played by Dominic Monaghan). I am grateful and thank him. The rest of the pirates that had been lying on the snow-covered sidewalk enter the porch from outside and look down at the body, seemingly unsure of who the new leader will be.

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This is a typical porch dream of the type I have had all my life. Porches symbolize the waking transition of liminal space and often involve the personified preconscious (here, the pirate leader). The purpose of the preconscious is to initiate waking (or finalize the consciousness shift towards waking), sometimes by “killing” or annoying the fictional dream self (though sometimes linking “return flight” symbolism). Although it is rare to be “killed” in my dreams in a discernible manner, my emergent consciousness was projected as the pirate version of Charlie Pace (though sometimes my emergent consciousness is like an enemy as well depending on the type of waking symbolism that is rendered). (I have not seen an episode of “Lost” in a long time.) There was no direct hypnopompic surge (which probably would have happened had I been “shot”). It was a soft awakening. The very common dream sign of lying down having been “asleep” is present (and I am lying down in the last scene as well), which replaces the usual water induction (although technically snow is frozen water).

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Morning of June 12, 2017. Monday.



As with many of my dreams throughout my life, this dream is far too long, nonlinear, and surreal to relate cohesively online, though I will attempt to relate some of the main scenes as closely as possible.

I find myself with the understanding that I am playing Luke Skywalker in a new low-budget “Star Wars” movie. Zsuzsanna is Princess Leia (even though Luke and Leia were brother and sister rather than man and wife). The movie is implied to be along the same lines as the first “Star Wars” movie and I guess is meant to be a cheap remake. A couple other characters are with us, including a skinny version of Chewbacca, with much sparser hair.

In one scene, we are wading through a pond just outside of a large building, but we eventually enter the building. There is an unknown male near the entrance who is holding people’s credentials until they come back after exploring the building or possibly engaging in recreational activities. One of the unknown people I am with refuses to give the man his identification card and I think there might be some trouble. However, there is no implication of violence. The man instead hands him a small flower on a long stem, or at least that is what he says it is. To me, it looks more like some sort of small plastic rod, perhaps a toy. Still, nothing confrontational occurs.

After wandering about in the halls, we come to a room that is filled with water of about waist high (and thus must have a sunken floor). There is a giant jellyfish that I have to cut off from around Zsuzsanna and possibly another character. I use a large sharp sword. It takes awhile as I slice through its thick but soft body below the surface of the water. Someone shows me a miniature jellyfish that was just found in the small left pocket (of some sort of blue tunic) of one of our group (though this person must have been killed or vanished). This miniature jellyfish is like another one that apparently turned into the giant jellyfish and had entered his pocket while we waded in the pond outside the front of the building (on the left of the entrance).

From here, we walk towards the entrance, somehow not at all wet. Somehow, my “sword” is now a fake “lightsaber”, though not really like a lightsaber at all. I am carrying it horizontally in my right hand. It has a pink blade and a blue handle and is more like a giant toy jackknife even though, again, it is supposed to be a “Star Wars” lightsaber of about the same length. I realize that weapons are probably not allowed in the building. I do not want a confrontation, though none occurs as I fold the oversized plastic blade back into the handle. Meanwhile, the character that had taken our credentials stands without emotion near the entrance.

As we walk outside, I consider how cheap my prop looks. Looking back, I see that the male regards me with respect, and I consider how devoted an actor he is for seemingly feeling comfortable in such an obviously low-budget movie. For a short time, as I walk near a long colonnade, where many unusual characters (some alien, but most humanoid) are lined up to go into the building in the direction behind me to my left, I consider that I may be too old to be Luke Skywalker (who is supposedly meant to be the young version in this film). Still, the movie is being filmed in real time and I will do what I can.

As we walk along, I see what I firstly associate with a “Star Wars” tauntaun running along towards our direction but to our left in an open featureless field. For some reason, I call it an ostrich, mentioning it to the others. It is not like an ostrich however. It looks more like a giant quail. Another one appears, with an unknown female riding it.

In the last scene, Big Bird (from “Sesame Street”) appears as a “Star Wars” character. He makes an effort to sit on one of the creatures but I think he might be too big. Still, he manages to sit on it even though it lowers to the ground for a short time, but then seems fine and strong enough to support Big Bird’s weight. I turn to tell the others, “It’s a bird on a bird”.

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Once again, the preconscious (man at the counter collecting credentials) is not only not confrontational but quite respectful compared to past dreams. Still, this is probably because the flight symbol connection is being initiated (even though Big Bird does not really fly and the giant running quail are at least not implied to here either). Big Bird as my emergent consciousness factor relating to suitably being able to sit on the other bird relates to having deliberately lost weight recently. Cutting the giant jellyfish from around other characters possibly relates to me losing weight as well.

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Morning of June 12, 2017. Monday.



I am walking through an unknown city in a commercial area, where there are a number of small stores to my left as I walk. It seems to be late morning. I seem to be on my own at first. I have an interest in looking around in a store and turn to enter a store I think I recognize. When I walk in though, I see it is a clothing store.

“Whoops, wrong store,” I say as I soon turn around to leave. Another (unfamiliar) man who had been walking behind me also enters the store and turns around to leave when I do. It is almost as if he had been having the same thought orientation as I had and was simply following me as if I was “leading”, apparently also looking for whatever I am (even though we had not spoken and I am not even sure where I am going).

I continue to walk, but only a short distance and into another store that has a different type of entrance as the previous. There is a large long checkout counter on my right and an interior wall to my left so that it seems almost like walking through a narrow hall. I continue towards the back and see that it is a large bookstore.

I see a magazine that I find interest in after first noticing what I take to be an Omni magazine. When I pick it up and look through it, I see that it is a science-fiction comic book (in color) about dinosaurs and a group of men. I decide that I will buy it. I look in my wallet and I am somewhat surprised to find at least two one-hundred-dollar bills, a few fifty-dollar bills, and more. I illogically reason that my mother (who died in real life in 2002) had placed the money in my wallet. I have no memory that she had died even though I assume I am my present age.

I then see another magazine I want. I look through it and find it interesting. It also has at least one story relating to dinosaurs but is seemingly for older readers as well as being thicker. It is supposed to come with a CD, but I decide I will ask at the checkout if they have it. Our youngest son appears to my right as I decide to buy one more thing. I see a few groups of Casper comic books to my left. There are about four different covers (different issues) in the groups. I ask my son if he wants one and he says yes and points to one in another area to the right, but I already have one I find interesting and inform him that it is also larger. It is a fifty-two pages “giant” edition. He seems happy.

I go to the checkout and there is an unfamiliar cashier who is a female of perhaps fifty. She has gray hair. I remember to ask about the CD. However, when I look at the magazine, which is wrapped in (transparent) plastic, I see the CD is already there. I tell her that I had thought it would be in a jewel case attached to the cover. She looks at me with wary concern and asks if I had put anything on the CD (such as a computer virus, I assume) and I sarcastically ask her how I could have done that, asking her if I used the cover as a computer. Then I consider that technology might very well allow one to use a magazine cover as a computer, which I talk to her about for a very short time, but nothing negative commences and I remain cheerful.

As I pay, holding my wallet open and taking out a fifty-dollar bill, I notice an unknown female on my right cheerfully looking at the hundred-dollar bills in my open wallet as I hold it up near the counter. It almost seems as if she never saw one before and, slightly wary, I put my wallet away. It turns out however, that she had not been looking at my wallet or even at me; perhaps something on the counter.

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This dream is a very good example of why dreams are nothing like stories. I am looking through a magazine, planning to ask the cashier where the cover CD is. The magazine is somehow then commercially wrapped, implying it always had been (thus I could not have been looking through it even though I was). I then tell the cashier that I thought it would be in a jewel case, which makes no sense as I said this spontaneously and had really not considered it in this manner. Then the cashier asks if I had “put something” on the CD. Obviously, being wrapped, I could not have, and even if I had, I am buying it, so whatever I might have put on it would only be in my possession and with no problem or concern for others.

Additionally, my mother died in 2002, yet my son, born in 2007, is with me at his present age. My mother only ever lived in America and would not have had Australian money of such an amount to give me, thus making the setting itself ambiguous by location. Omni magazine stopped publication (in print) in Winter 1995. The Casper comic book, though new, was like one from around 1971. The threads of the fictional dream self always seem completely different each time and from many different timelines and temporary false memories.

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