Blue_Opossum

Morning of July 29, 2017. Saturday.



[I am within my dream state, unaware of being asleep, yet with most of my conscious self identity extant. Still, towards the higher end of REM, my neural energies begin to grow. I associate them with plants, just as nerve roots seem analogous to the roots of plants. The play on “garden bed” also seems present.]

My wife Zsuzsanna remains to my left as I explore an area of our garden that I had somehow not been aware of until this moment. There are two rows of unknown plants, about nine clusters in each row, that are about two feet in height at the most. Over time, Zsuzsanna tells me about the flowers on them after I first assume them to be some sort of vegetable.

[My wife is also to my left as we sleep. The patterns of my neural energies are not consistent within the dream state. This is the biological nature of sleeping and dreaming. Some newly activate and grow symbolically like a plant; symbolism of which I validated in the 1980s; some cease to be viable.]

Around the area of where the fifth group of plants are in the row on my side from my left, I notice a few clusters that are wilted and almost horizontal to the ground, leaning to the right. I feel annoyed and I consider that the seeds had been too close together when sprouting.

[Critical thinking skills are mainly nonexistent in the dream state. Such neural patterns would bring too much clarity to remain in the dream state. Still - I consider a different way that my neural patterns could be more viable in analogy. The vague oscillations of neural energy that I become aware of manifest as Christmas beetles that the plants are actually growing from within the flowers, insects being a more tangible form of a specific pattern of consciousness than water, yet closer to neural energies that would initiate waking. I do not think it strange that a Christmas bell plant would grow a Christmas beetle, or more specifically, one from each stamen. Each stamen symbolizes each dendrite in my physical mind in real time.]

I see Christmas beetles emerging from the downwardly oriented flowers, these beetles having directly grown from the plants. There are eventually more and more of them. I have no sense of wariness or unpleasantness. In fact, I think I might like to keep them because of their beauty.

[My dream self teleports and is now within our house mostly as it is now, though with minor variations in size and layout. I do not immediately realize that having so many Christmas beetles in the house might prove to be problematic. Too many neural energies brought deeper into the residence of my dream would expand into the waking stage.]

At first, I enjoy having all these Christmas beetles in the house as I watch them in our kitchen and lounge room. However, something in the back of my mind makes me realize that it is not so good an idea. For one thing, they start to buzz, yet the real issue relates to their ability to crawl into anything and everything and spread into various possessions. This is something that I start to consider is not really what I want.

[I have decided that I do not want all of these neural energies within this level of consciousness as it will surely bring about the ascent into whole consciousness if I keep them inside. I consider gathering them up and putting them outside. My dream fades fairly quickly.]

My wife Zsuzsanna, in real life, not that long after my dream, brings attention to some Christmas bell plants I had no idea about. There was no prompt from me, and no way of knowing what had been on her mind previously. This follows the general rule that at least one dream per sleep cycle renders material from her essence and her mind.

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Morning of July 29, 2017. Saturday.



I am in an unfamiliar house but which eventually takes on at least one feature of our present home in reality; the back porch. Zsuzsanna seems to be present at times, though the characters change in unlikely ways.

The clearest segment is when Leonard, the friendly pinhead I knew on King Street (who I had not seen since 1990), is seated to my right on a couch and an unknown female (of perhaps about twenty years of age) is sitting to my left. It seems the female may be looking after Leonard, who may be about thirty in this situation. She seems to be referring to him as a “shingle”.

Over time, I notice he is crying, especially as I ask him, “Remember when I used to call you Leonard?” Apparently, people do not usually call him by name.

Eventually, my dream’s characters transform without me paying any attention to the change. The unknown female seems to again be more like Zsuzsanna, yet “Leonard” is now my fictional son. He is possibly about twenty years old (even though he was an older Leonard - who did look like Leonard - just moments before). He does not look anything like Leonard now and he does not resemble any of my sons, either.

My “son” punches the wall at about elbow level. It makes a crack that goes all the way up to the ceiling but the wall is not dented. He then punches the wall higher up, which then does make a deep dent as pieces of the wall fall out, but there is not as much of an upward crack this time.

I yell at him to stop and he moves to punch me in my right shoulder as I lie back onto the couch. I do not feel any pain. I do not really feel like hitting him or yelling again.

Finally, I say, “If you want to hit something, go out and hit the boxing bag”. I motion my right hand towards the back of the house. I soon look out through a (fictional) window and see him boxing. (The punching bag setup is of the same appearance as in reality.)

He comes back in and again sits on my right. I notice that he is having some difficulty with a pair of boxing gloves. I see that he is trying to put on a boxing glove over his right hand though he is already wearing a half finger cycle glove on that hand.

I ask him if he would like to take boxing lessons at a paid venue and he nods and seems happy.

He gets up to leave with the female and I realize or “remember” he is simple-minded. His body is of an unusual shape, somewhat like with an elongated beer belly. (I do not drink beer and I do not know anyone who drinks.) I think about how they might be at risk in a parking lot by not knowing how to react to ordinary people who approach them.

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Reverse engineering my dream in real time:

• My dream self is subliminally aware of being asleep, though there is no viable lucidity. Our bed transmutes into being perceived as a couch by my dream self. Zsuzsanna is still on my left as in reality as we sleep. My viable neural energies decrease and she is an unfamiliar female.
• Leonard appears to my right as a part of potential dream exit symbolism and the preconscious precursor. He is called a “shingle”, which is related to roof symbolism, which relates directly to the level of consciousness between the higher preconscious and the lower emergent consciousness. (There may also be an additional layer that distorts “single” as a play on coalescence waking symbolism.)
• Leonard is now my fictional “son” and no longer looks like Leonard or like any of my sons. In fact, he is my emergent consciousness atypically “trapped” within the preconscious form. This is why he punches the wall, which represents the divisions within levels of consciousness in real time.
• I move back on the couch to subliminally mimic my sleeping position in bed as he hits me on the right shoulder, which is a metaphor for activating the waking prompt (while patting someone on the back near the left shoulder would be a subliminal attempt at reinduction).
• For whatever reason, there is sustained neural activity and I “remember” (though I am still not lucid) that a porch is a common waking transition of liminal space where conflict sometimes occurs to initiate waking (though this is more often with a front porch). Still, it is a rather odd limited thread of increasing awareness, as I still have no knowledge of where I actually live (or much other viable memory yet) other than the boxing bag’s location and appearance.
• I offer to pay for boxing lessons for the preconscious after noticing he is trying to put on boxing gloves yet also already has half finger cycle gloves on, those of which relate to preparatory dream exit symbolism (as a bicycle symbolizes increasing neural energies in real time, associated with the same leg movements as walking up a staircase, which is also related to the emergent consciousness).
• Finally, my dream fades with association with a larger form of liminal space, the parking lot, and I become vaguely aware that these dream characters are not real and so naturally are simple-minded, facing problems in integration with the real world.

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Early evening of July 27, 2017. Thursday.

Dream #: 8,483-07. Reading time: 1 min 10 sec.



Precursory (vestibular): I enter my dream self’s imaginary physical body and find myself running. I am Grant Williams as Scott Carey in the 1957 movie “The Incredible Shrinking Man.” I am running over the top of a series of cardboard boxes on about the fourth shelf up of a metal utility shelving unit. I am about four inches tall. I do not seem to be running because of a threat, just running along. (“On the shelf” is autosymbolism that is analogous to being in bed. The closed boxes represent the inability to move my body while sleeping, yet I am running on them as I still subliminally perceive my muscularity.)

Virtual witness integration: Zsuzsanna, appearing somewhat like a 1950s actress, is running behind me, though to my left. There is a heightened sense of energy. (This short dream occurred at about 5:30 pm AEST during a nap. Zsuzsanna was in bed with me at the time. She was to my left because she was to my left in bed, and behind me, because I was closer to waking as liminally perceived by my dream self.)

The drop: Soon, I see the scene from an incorporeal viewpoint from the front of the shelving unit. “We” are running from left to right. Grant Williams as Scott Carey as “me,” running at an angle, runs straight off the cardboard box from off the front of the shelf and falls to the floor onto his right side and kicks. Simultaneously, I experience a mild hypnopompic kick and upper back spasm as I realize the residual imagery reflects my sleeping position. (I am looking down at my body.)

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This July 27, 2017 dream is a fictitious scene from “The Incredible Shrinking Man.” Grant Williams died on July 28, 1985.

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Morning of July 27, 2017. Thursday.



I become aware of being in “my apartment” in the King Street boarding house. (I have not lived there in real life for nearly thirty years.) My bed is on the opposite side of the room as the door.

In actuality, based on the real layout of the King Street boarding house and where I am, “my apartment” in my dream would be the King Street bathroom; the larger bathroom on the west side of the mansion (second floor). Adjacent to the north wall is a composite element, the Cubitis southwest bedroom’s large closet (which in real life was at ground level in a one-storey house).

My dream self has no memory of my current conscious self identity and does not see my location as unusual or mixed up even though it is, as usual, a brand new composite.

I need to use the bathroom. I go over towards the closet and notice one just outside the closet’s left sliding door (but facing the closet). I see that someone else had used it and not flushed. However, I also see that there is soon no water and I lift up the toilet and see there is no pipe or in fact, any sign of plumbing, as if it was just a container to empty elsewhere. This annoys me, as I do not feel like doing this. (I am unsure of where the water went, as there is no sign of a leak anywhere.)

Going into the closet, I see a second toilet, out from the west end. It has also been used by someone else. I consider using it, but then see it is like the first, water lowering but with no plumbing. (In reality, with respect to the mixed-up layout, the King Street toilet would have been in this general location, though both of my dream’s toilets are in incorrect orientation otherwise. The King Street toilet faced south, but the two toilets here face north and east.)

I am aware of an unknown female in the hallway. I am not sure if I should open my door. Still, I do, and she eventually starts to make fun of me for what I had written on a few documents downstairs that are on the chest of drawers in the foyer. These documents are apparently mathematics tests that I had checked and graded recently. I do not have a full understanding of what she is saying, but she does not seem to understand my system of grading or supposedly very clever usage of the language. This “unknown” female is actually my wife Zsuzsanna’s younger half-sister Crystal. However, my dream self does not recognize this fact.

Soon though, I notice my King Street landlady standing just outside my door (and the other female is gone). She is also annoying me by questioning my grading terminology. In particular, she complains about me having written “cooked” on one test I graded. I explain to her that “cooked” is a common word for “finished”, meaning that the test was successfully completed at possibly a hundred percent. I then decide to make fun of her, but I am not sure how. I start to make fun of the word “fantabulous”, but it seems she agrees with me that the word is idiotic and apparently would not use the word either. From here, I wake, having to use the bathroom, with a vague memory of the lyrics to “Wake Up Little Susie“, which I haven’t heard in years.

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This dream contains, intriguingly, six common forms of waking symbolism:

1. Bed recognition waking symbolism (a subliminal awareness that my physical body is in bed and asleep, and as such, is a real-time dream state indicator).
2. Toilet waking symbolism (a biological indicator that I need to wake up and use the bathroom, which is why the toilets in my dream were not usable - and note also that my “bedroom” was in the area where a large bathroom was in real life).
3. Water lowering waking symbolism (a common type of waking symbolism which has several layers of meaning including a biological need to wake and rehydrate).
4. Doorway waking symbolism (the personified preconscious, in this case my landlady from years ago, transmuting into my emergent consciousness due to her beginning to agree with me, is also a type of coalescence waking symbolism, but I only typify it as such when it is a more dominant factor). A doorway typically symbolizes the dream’s exit point, though may also serve as a trigger into lucidity. I first realized this when I was four years old.
5. Alarm clock waking symbolism (subliminal until briefly after hypnopompia).
6. Failed flight waking symbolism (subliminal). As I have already explained hundreds of times since 2004, “failed flight” (and waking symbolism in general) has nothing to do with so-called dream interpretation and is unrelated to real life other than when literally extant (environmental influence) or premonitory (such as my dream of the missing Malaysian flight shortly before it occurred).

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The potential staircase reinduction symbolism remains unused. This is validated by the graded tests being downstairs (deeper into the dream state) and my dream self acknowledging this by saying “finished” (that is, my dream is finishing).

Relevant lines from “Wake Up Little Susie”: “The movie wasn’t so hot, it didn’t have much of a plot” (meaning that my dream was not that involving or interesting); “We fell asleep, our goose is cooked” (failed flight waking symbolism in a very clever “hidden” thread, which has happened many times in the past); “Wake up little Susie”. (Note that my wife goes by Suzi.) The lines “The movie’s over, it’s four o'clock” relate to my dream ending at about four o'clock.

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Morning of July 25, 2017. Tuesday.



I am in an unfamiliar room, though of which may be implied to be of our present home on W Street. There is a miniature two-storey mansion near one wall. Its appearance is unfamiliar. Still, I recognize this dollhouse as a known possession by way of a fictional backstory. It is big for a dollhouse, coming up to about the height of my waist when I am standing, though my viewpoint relevant to its size changes, especially in the last scene of my dream.

I study it for seemingly a long time. I sense the presence of my family but I mainly focus on the rooms of this intriguing miniature house. I also study the outside of it, noting every detail.

The main scene involves looking more closely at the back of the dollhouse as I turn it around, into the rooms on the second floor. There are three windows on the second floor of about the same size. I reach in through a window to turn a light on. The lights in all three rooms come on when I do this. I clearly feel (though cannot see from my position) the miniature light switch as a small bump that I push in the opposite orientation. It seems to be near the top of a flight of stairs.

Eventually, I am aware of an unfamiliar black male to my left. Curiously, I do not see this stranger as an imposer in our home. He seems cheerful. I do not learn his name (or recall it if it was given). He talks a lot, but I cannot discern most of what he is saying. It borders on gibberish, but I do eventually understand some phrases. I know some of it relates to Leonard Bernstein and a certain supposedly rare record album of his.

Looking through the middle window of the dollhouse, I see a small wooden box on the right, its shorter end adjacent to the window. Upon looking closer, I experience joy upon seeing what appear to be a number of copies of “Science Fiction Adventures” arranged vertically and facing the window. (Science Fiction Adventures was an American digest-size science fiction magazine, published from 1952 to 1954 by Science Fiction Publications.) Curiously, they seem to be of normal size (even though this would not be possible to resolve with a conscious viewpoint).

I see the rare record of Leonard Bernstein that the male was talking about. It is in a room on the first floor in the back of the dollhouse, seen through the middle window. Even though it is miniature, it seems it will be of normal size when I give it to him. At this point though, it seems to be (or change into) a thick paperback book. However, he tells me to keep it, as I start to consider that he may be homeless and have no place to keep it or to read or “listen” to it. After trying to get him to accept my gift, he still seems cheerful but declines.

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• While an aquarium (not a feature of this dream but included here for contrast) is a real-time downsized model of the unconscious mind while sleeping, a dollhouse is a real-time downsized model of the conscious mind while sleeping. This is validated by my dream self turning on the three lights (with one switch) in the back of the dollhouse, which symbolizes activating the parietal lobe (somatic sensory association area). This is additionally validated by my augmented sense of touch upon feeling the miniature light switch at this point. Somatic senses are sometimes referred to as somesthetic senses, with the understanding that somesthesis includes the sense of touch, proprioception (sense of position and movement), and (depending on usage) haptic perception. The main difference between a dollhouse and an aquarium is that an aquarium is related more to induction, although typically, less water in an aquarium over time is a transmutation into waking symbolism.
• The supposedly rare Leonard Bernstein record was on the first floor in back of the dollhouse, which would be analogous to the occipital lobe; visual cortex. (PGO waves are a feature of human REM sleep.)
• Additionally, the “Science Fiction Adventures” magazines symbolizes imagination as potentially sourced from within the mind model (as critical thinking skills are only extant when awake).
• This dream’s personified preconscious (the presumably homeless black male) follows the lifelong established rules of this dreaming component. There is no conflict as I have already activated the waking symbolism by turning on the lights (which symbolizes increasing neural activity in real time in the last stage of the waking transition, which also makes my dream more vivid).
• As the lights in the front of the dollhouse on the left of the first floor are not on in most scenes, this may be analogous of the preconscious seemingly speaking gibberish for the most part. (Language processing has been linked to Broca’s area.)
• The miniature light switch is near the top of the stairs (from the first floor); “the top of the stairs” being analogous to the emergent consciousness (a precursor to waking up), as in hundreds of other dreams I have decoded since childhood. (Scott suggests that consciousness “emerges” at the top of a hierarchically ordered nervous system. Scott compares the hierarchy of the nervous system to a flight of stairs or the rungs of a ladder. “Altered Egos: How the Brain Creates the Self”, page 126, sourced from “Stairway to the Mind” by Alwyn Scott.)
• I might assume that the Leonard Bernstein record (though which may be a book in the last scene) is a facet of the transpersonal interconsciousness. The soundwave of a musical recording might be analogous to brainwaves. (By analogy, Leonard Bernstein is a conductor. Different neural activities will produce different brainwave patterns)
• Here is an unexplainable surprise: The personified preconscious in this dream turned out to be of a precognitive thread (This is often the case, but I do not always include it in an online dream journal entry). This “same” black homeless male was across the street from our house later in the day after my dream. (Neither Zsuzsanna nor I approached him.) This is a very rare occurrence and I had never seen him before.

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Morning of July 24, 2017. Monday.



I am firstly not very aware of my dream’s environment (and I do not become lucid at any point). I eventually become aware of being on the outer limits of a dense forest encompassing a small lake or wide stream, seemingly late at night. I am not aware of anyone else in the region yet. I walk around in the semidarkness, uncertain of where I am, though there is no sense of danger. My dream’s setting seems loosely modeled after Mink Slough, where my brother-in-law Bob and I used to fish up until 1990, though never at night.

After a short time, I see a strange event. A car goes flying over the trees away from my viewpoint but eventually falls in another area of the forest.

I enter the forest with uncertainty as to what is going on, but without wariness. I get the impression of my brother-in-law Bob having tossed his car over the trees to get attention, as it seems he was somehow injured while fishing and the flare gun was either too far away for him to reach or he was out of flares.

I find him lying on a blanket on the ground. It appears as if he has been bleeding a lot. It also seems that he may have gotten fish hooks stuck in a few parts of his body, though this detail is not fully discernible.

About five unfamiliar males of about forty years of age emerge from my dream self’s body to offer aid as I remain more at a distance. They approach him. Bob seems somewhat cheerful, but cannot get up. My dream fades from this point as I reason the other males will give him medical attention as well as call an ambulance.

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• Induction form is water induction (most common form as water symbolizes the real-time dynamics of sleeping).
• Dream state symbolism as entering a forest (subliminal reinduction, as it occurs after the implied but precursory waking symbolism of the car in flight).
• Subliminal reinduction resets dream state, no additional waking symbolism, dream is truncated, no emergent consciousness event.
• Biologically premonitory waking symbolism present as an atypical event, partly initiated by subliminal awareness of having more blankets on my body while sleeping.
• Car (symbol of sleeping physical body in this case as it is without a driver) thrown over the forest (very common personal symbol of being in the dream state) as a subliminal annoyance of blanket weight (though it is too cool presently to sleep without them).
• Ambiguous failed flight waking symbolism is present (Bob throwing his car over the trees as analogous to a flare gun and a flare gun would be a potential waking prompt).
• Atypical personified preconscious as uncompleted emergent consciousness precursor, bleeding and lying down in need of aid (rare, though Bob usually appears in this form now).
• Dream state indicator of preconscious lying on ground (analogous to lying in bed) requiring aid (needing to leave the dream state; to coalesce back into whole consciousness).

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Detached threads:

• 1) A human being cannot throw a car through the air, let alone over trees or while bleeding and lying injured on the ground.
• 2) I have not seen Bob in real life since February of 1994 and I am unaware of his present health status (possible precognitive thread present).
• 3) Other dream characters (all unfamiliar males) emerge from my dream self’s body upon me seeing Bob on the ground. Bob does not “return” to my dream self’s body or coalesce in this case that I recall.

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Morning of July 23, 2017. Sunday.

Dream #: 18,479-02. Reading time (optimized): 1 min 30 sec.



I am traveling with Leonard, a pinhead I knew who also lived in the King Street boarding house. He seems younger in my dream than when I knew him in real life, only about twenty years old. (My dream self seems only about twenty as well, which is not logical as he was about twenty years older than me in waking life).

We enter a big unfamiliar boarding house in an unknown location where we may be going to stay. The layout seems more like a public restaurant with at least three sections, but without much furniture. An unfamiliar chubby male of about fifty recognizes Leonard, but he does not know me.

He tells me I will need a Louisiana driver’s license, using the term “for this state” (that may be an instinctual association with being in the dream state). I am unsure why. I think we must be in Louisiana even though I do not think I will be driving. I know I do not have one. However, instinctual dream control becomes a factor. I know if I focus on having a driver’s license, it will appear in my wallet. I pretend I have one, and it exists as I open my wallet. The unknown male confirms it, and I can stay in the building.

Curiously, I end up driving a life-size version of a Hot Wheels Bubble Car of the same kind I had in my youth. It seems to be because the unknown male wanted me to. I may be a test driver. The top, which is like a light plastic dome, does not fully close due to it being partly held up by my height (apparently designed for someone shorter). It is not problematic, but its weight is slightly annoying. Still, I enjoy driving around with no mishaps. The internal orientation seems to correlate somewhat with a Formula One car. Later, I am driving a second car (undetermined) at the request of the unknown male.

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The situation where I am driving the first car seems to be an instinctual awareness of having a heavy blanket over me while sleeping, though I am not uncomfortable. Cars in dreams, especially driving one, stems from imaginary kinaesthesia and the illusory dynamics of physicality while sleeping.

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Morning of July 21, 2017. Friday.



In my last dream of this date, I enter a vivid scene, looking down at two features. There is a small monkey on the left and a miniature wooden Tiki totem pole on the right, both implied to be about the same height but in horizontal positions on an unknown surface.

At first, I assume the monkey has died. However, in the last moments prior to waking, there is a loud “hoo hoo ha ha” sound as the monkey moves his head, firstly looking at the totem pole on his left, appearing to be slightly puzzled, and then rolling to his left side (towards the totem pole). The implied monkey sound echoes out of the residual essence of my dream as I then instinctively make the same movements as the monkey and roll to my left side to become more comfortable (as I was having lower back pain while sleeping on my back, which I do not do very often due to occasional situational apnea).

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Note that in this case, both the monkey and totem pole are lying down as “in bed” (a first-level dream sign, that is, a real-time indicator of being asleep and in the dream state). The orientation of the two features is the same as Zsuzsanna and I as we are sleeping, assuming the resurrected monkey represents my waking and turning over as I perceived it was. Note that the totem pole does not move or come to life, which indicates that my dream self was aware that Zsuzsanna was still asleep while I was waking.

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Morning of July 15, 2017. Saturday.



My dream starts out on the porch of the Barolin Street house (our previous home of where we have not lived since 2008). This is atypical, as the porch setting, though representing liminal space, is linked to the induction stage rather than the waking transition. As such, it begins to rain (water induction, my most common type, as water symbolizes the real-time dynamics of sleep). I enjoy its essence but I then realize that there are several small stacks of comic books in the north side yard, probably only four or five comic books in each of about nine stacks. Many seem to be Harvey comic books, such as “Casper the Friendly Ghost”. They are arranged in mostly an equidistant pattern (of about six inches apart to each direction) on a very low-set table or thin plywood platform. Zsuzsanna is with me. I realize that I have to run and get them so that they are not ruined.

When I go out into the rain, I feel very good, even though I have to act quickly. Curiously, the books show no signs of getting wet as I gather them. After I take them onto our porch, my dream changes, and there are far less threads of my conscious self identity present.

I now seem to be about eighteen years old or younger. My mother is still alive (and I have absolutely no recall of her having died in 2002). Strangely, even though my brother Earl did not die until November 29, 2007, I perceive him (via a false memory and false backstory) as having died when I was a teenager. (Therefore, my mother being alive in my dream and Earl being deceased is a typical error that dreams make all the time.)

The setting is very sparse in detail and so undefined, there is no discernment of whether it is indoors or outdoors or the typical ambiguous combination that my dream self somehow always perceptually resolves. This “impossible” thinking pattern is not viable when I am fully conscious, and remains a distortion native to the dream state only (though I really cannot understand how this could work despite critical thinking skills not existing in most non-lucid dream types).

My mother is present at times, including the very last scene. I mostly look at various Matchbox Cars. These are ones my brother Earl supposedly owned while living in Cubitis. (Although I still continuously have dreams based on variations of Cubitis, where I have not lived since the summer of 1978, dreaming of Earl’s house in Cubitis, which was only a few houses south of us, is quite rare.) Earl is present in some sort of ghost form, but otherwise appears to be normal, as he was in perhaps the late 1960s. He only looks on at my activities at times.

Yet another error in this dream is that I see Earl as being married to his third wife Cindy in this time period (and she is “still” living in his Cubitis house) rather than his first wife Beverly (and in fact, I have no awareness of him being married to anyone else). His ghost form seems to be a natural result of dying; that is, people die, and then they exist as visible “ghosts”, set apart from the physical world, but otherwise just as they were when alive.

I open a long rectangular cardboard box that is a racing set based on Matchbox Cars. There is a blue racing car that I look at for a short time. I do not think Earl will be angry as I look at his collection.

In the last scene, my mother is nearby. I play around with two blue Matchbox Car pickup trucks that are identical except for the position of the wings of the oversized white chicken sitting in each pickup truck bed. I get the impression it might be meant to be an advertising gimmick (possibly for KFC). One chicken’s wings are out and horizontal while the other’s wings are down and against its body. The chickens also rotate to spin around the pickup truck bed, and I start spinning them prior to waking.

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Although this non-lucid dream is extraordinarily easy to decode the native meaning of as most of my non-lucid dreams are, I will presently only focus on the last amusing segment. Chickens are birds that cannot fly very well, so are a typical example of “failed flight” (a form of “return flight”) waking symbolism. This is not negative and has nothing to do with conscious self “issues” as “dream interpreters” (not a real concept) seem to like to pretend via the Barnum effect. Waking symbolism as such is an indicator of the anticipatory (though subliminal) nature of hypnopompia, which is a biological process. As a result, bird and airplane symbolism (and flying in general) has been extremely common in my dreams since earliest memory, for over fifty years, continuously occurring in over one in five dreams in the tens of thousands I have studied.

In this one, there is even an obvious dream sign play, the pickup truck BED, an indicator of being in the dream state, even more so with the oversized chickens on them. Pairs of birds (of various species) have occurred in a number of my dreams. They represent, in most cases, Zsuzsanna and I sleeping together. They are different in their wing status (and in different pickup trucks) in this case due to Zsuzsanna and I being in different levels of sleep (in real time). My mother as my emergent consciousness is likely a vague association with Zsuzsanna prior to waking (as she is a mother to our children). Beds (sometimes in unusual locations) as real-time dream state indicators are also common in Zsuzsanna’s dreams.

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Morning of July 14, 2017. Friday.



I am in an unknown residence that has a lot of rooms of which are filled with junk that I plan to get rid of. The first setting seems to be a basement (or like a basement), yet is seemingly not underground, though it seems to have a dirt floor at times. There are large long shelves in a number of locations. Much of the junk seems to be parts of picture frames, nails, and documents I no longer need or want.

In one scene, I seem to be in the northernmost (northeast) room of the King Street boarding house, where I have not lived (in reality) in over twenty-five years. The bed is aligned lengthways along the west wall, head to the north (an orientation never utilized in reality). For the first time ever in a dream, my mother (July 14, 1916-October 2, 2002) is associated with the King Street boarding house as living there in my dream. (Although my wife Zsuzsanna and I have been together in many dreams since we met in reality, including as implied to be living in the King Street boarding house even though she has never been to America, I find it astounding upon realizing my mother had never been in this dream setting as far as I presently know.)

I had found an outfit (combined sweater and pants) for my youngest daughter and had brought it into the room. My mother seems angry that someone else had apparently thrown it out but is glad that I had retrieved it for use for my daughter’s benefit.

Later, there seem to be a number of other (unknown) people going through the miscellaneous junk. The actor John Larroquette (as he appeared in the television series “Night Court”) makes an appearance in the final segment. It is mentioned how no one wants most of what is presently sitting about in the large basement-like room.

“In that case, I’ll take these portraits,” he says, picking up two large slightly damaged portraits of himself (which may have originally been left there either by him or someone else).

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Our daughter was somewhat restless this morning. Her clothes appearing in my dream without her was a possible indicator of her being awake while we were sleeping.

My mother seems to be the precursor of my emergent consciousness in this case even though my dream self did not recall that she had died in 2002.

I believe that a dream of cleaning or getting rid of junk is sometimes biological symbolism relating to cellular processes in real time, possibly including a need to get up and use the bathroom.

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The final dream event features coalescence waking symbolism (projected, neutral preconscious). This stems from an analogy with coalescence meditation, of where viewing infinite selves by looking into a mirror on each side is metaphorically resolved as internal unification by then looking forward into the mirror reflecting the one self (in whole consciousness).

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Morning of July 13, 2017. Thursday.



In the beginning of my dream, I somehow carelessly cut my left arm and my right hand on something. There is mild pain. I notice that the cut on my left arm is deep. It is along my left forearm, on the left side when my hand is downwards, and straight over nearly its entire length. Later, I rub on some sort of medicinal cream that is supposed to help seal the cut.

I eventually notice that my cut is dry but open. I can see another layer of skin underneath. There is not much pain anymore, but I am somewhat annoyed at having the cut.

At a later point, my entire left forearm opens up somewhat like a pouch (via the long cut) into a partly hollow space. There is no blood, but there does seem to be sections of tissue and “bone”. My view of it seems magnified, although the inside of it would actually have to be much bigger than in reality to contain what it does. I can still move it about normally. Curiously, I notice about four metal cables coming out from where my elbow would be, which are apparently connected to strips of muscle. I consider that maybe someone had changed my arm into a robotic arm without me knowing about it. There are also at least two glass and metal structures that are shaped like rectangular prisms, the metal strips along the edges and connecting at the vertices.

I find myself in a library (more as if the ambiguous setting suddenly rendered a library counter feature) and I ask a person at the counter to look at my arm. Two people, an unfamiliar male and an unfamiliar female, look at it and comment. According to what I hear after I ask them about what it is made of, it is apparently believed that my arm is normal and that a person’s arm actually does have metal cables and such inside yet is still an organic natural form. I am still puzzled.

Eventually, I start to notice objects within the hollow area closer to my elbow (though still in my forearm). I see about six 3.5" computer disks and about three cassette tapes. They have handwritten labels. I do not take them out. I also see a VHS tape. (Imagine trying to visualize a VHS tape inside your arm with a lot of room to spare, but this is somehow resolved in my dream self’s viewpoint.) I consider that the items may have been left there as some sort of record of the process that was used to change my arm into something robotic.

In the last scene, I go into a hospital to ask about the nature of my arm, but it still seems the arm itself is supposedly normal. Eventually, I see jewelry and a large number of mostly silver coins (possibly American) inside the area closer to my elbow.

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Night of July 10, 2017. Monday.



I am sitting in the darkness of a large unfamiliar rectangular room, never rendered in any previous dream, though my dream self “recognizes” and accepts it as our present home (as is usually the case). There is seemingly no furniture in the room other than the chair I am sitting in and the table that my desktop computer is on. Along the wall I am facing while at my computer are four equidistant doorways with apparent access to most of our house. (I have never been in such a layout in real life and its unusual nature does not trigger any thoughts of it being wrong. The layout is similar to another recent dream and is therefore a carryover, though in the previous dream, of July 2nd, my location in seeing the four adjacent rooms is as if from a featureless hall, and unlike with this dream, there was no awareness of the opposite side of my location.)

As I sit at my computer in the dark room, I contemplate briefly checking Facebook. However, instead of using the bookmark, I start to type out the entire URL. I firstly type out characters that are incorrect (a common dream event as critical thinking is not viable in the dream state), but I eventually “succeed” in typing the MySpace URL, not at all considering that this is not what I had originally intended. Curiously, the incorrectly spelled previous links bring me to webpages that seem like partial pieces of the actual site. This ridiculous impossibility does not register to my dream self as being an erroneous but intriguing unique concept and I always find such distortions hilarious after waking. (On a side note, I have never held an interest in MySpace and have not even seen the site in many years, though this is more a subliminal awareness associated with my space in the bed.)

Something shifts within my consciousness and level of awareness; instinctual dream control; that is, a subtle realization that I am creating my world, but without the understanding that I am dreaming. After this, my dream becomes a less common type primarily based on tactile factors. (This subtle realization that I am making my dream without remembering what a dream is is very common and occurs with a number of other dream types and has since earliest memory.)

I deliberately try to force the setting into being haunted, including trying to force a fabricated history of previous hauntings to initialize this (a lifelong recurring event in the non-lucid dream state, probably an influence by my enjoyment of haunted house movies) though my willful effort does not initiate for a few minutes. Finally, I feel my fictional physical body moving from a vertical position to a horizontal position (with no falling jolt) as unseen implied ghosts (possibly that of two or three dogs) are dragging me across the floor. There is a brief “blind spot” regarding the change, like a subtle skip in my dream’s continuity. I feel a tightening around my waist as I am being dragged feet-first on my left side to the other side of the room, but it is not unpleasant or nightmarish (and there is also the ambiguous feeling of being pushed as such at the same time). (In the back of my mind, I am aware that I alone am causing this.) I still call out for help, being aware that Zsuzsanna may be somewhere in the house. I am not clear on whether or not there is a door on the opposite side of the room, though which I vaguely consider would be the entry into this house rather than another room. My focus on this possibility remains ambiguous as I consider Zsuzsanna being “outside” this structure as on another level of existence, not quite bilocation, but probably subliminal realization that she is next to me in reality. I wake up kicking and rolling about and softly speaking gibberish (rather than whining or moaning as with most tactile hypnopompia), but this does not wake Zsuzsanna.

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This dream type is so different from other dream types that it is like a different type of unconscious experience. Most such dreams have far less imagery (sometimes none at all, being mostly augmented touch and sense of weight and momentum) regardless of the three-dimensional awareness of the setting. Most such dreams seem to be specifically caused by the enhanced awareness of the weight of a blanket or the body’s sleeping position (and in this case, I went from my original fictional dream body’s upright position into my actual sleeping position, though changing it in hypnopompia), yet for some reason, my dream self takes on the role normally reserved for the preconscious with an unusual pretense that there are “ghosts” present, being aware it is my own doing on a lesser level, typically likely caused by simply wanting to change my sleeping position within sleep (which has been verified with a number of past examples). It is highly unlikely that this type of dream has any additional meaning or purpose. Whereas many non-lucid dreams are based on the symbolism incidentally built from the subliminal expectation of the waking transition, this type seems solely based on ongoing environmental factors. There is a very big difference, which is likely why the mood, tone, and level of awareness is completely different.

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Morning of July 6, 2017. Thursday.

Dream #: 18,462-05. Reading time: 1 min 52 sec.



I am on a pirate ship. There is a cheerful mood. As time passes, there is evidence of a treasure chest at the bottom of the ocean. One man finds a note with instructions from a pirate who had died years ago. On it, with the latitude and longitude of the marker’s location, it specifies what time to retrieve the chest, implying any other time might result in the treasure being lost or resulting in a threat.

The ship sails to the location the lost treasure supposedly is. There is a marker floating on the ocean’s surface. Someone pulls the rope that has its other end tied to the treasure chest below. Briefly, I consider, if the timing is wrong, there might be a sea monster or gigantic fish on the other end of the rope, but this does not occur. For a time, I see an underwater view as one of the pirates pulls up what first seems to be a small but weighty chest.

I watch the chest coming up out of the mud on the ocean’s bottom. Close to where the rope connects to the chest, I see the remains of a human arm entangled in it. This arm is tossed aside without concern when bringing the chest aboard.

After the chest is on the ship in the center of a large cabin, about five or six pirates remain nearby. At this time, there is a bilocation of being in the kitchen of our present house.

The captain opens the treasure chest, and at first, there appear to be piles of gold and silver coins as well as jewelry. He takes out some of the coins, which seem stuck together. He gives a few pieces to a few different pirates, though I get the impression it is not an equal division. They may work out how much each man receives later.

One of the pirates snaps his horizontal cluster of fused supposed gold coins in half. It turns out to be fake and made of plaster. Another pirate does the same with the silver coins. The mood changes to disappointment, but the outcome does not seem that important.

I approach the chest and find a hidden compartment under a false bottom. There is anticipation amidst the group of perhaps there being a treasure underneath. I lift it to see several brochures for a modern casino. There are also three notes of foreign currency (possibly Indonesian) as a gift to use in the casino. The situation results in amusement.

I carry the bills in what is now the kitchen of our present home (without my dream self recognizing it as such) as I walk towards our back door. The pirates are still with me.

“It’s three dollars,” I say. There is a sense of amusement rather than disappointment.

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Morning of July 6, 2017. Thursday.

Dream #: 18,462-02. Reading time: 42 sec.



In the first segment of my dream, Zsuzsanna and I are hugging and kissing in bed, in the King Street mansion (not a factor of our waking life as Zsuzsanna has never been to America) in the east middle apartment. The bed is perpendicular (its head north instead of east) to where it had been in waking life.

As I walk in the hall to go downstairs, I realize I am only wearing my left shoe. I repeat my routine of returning to the room and putting my shoes on until I see I am wearing both shoes.

Leonard is in his room at the end of the hall. He seems cheerful and appears as he was in the 1980s. He refers to me as his son John. (I had been wearing pants in bed in my dream, probably related to another part of the poem Leonard references, “Went to bed with his trousers on.” Another line is “One shoe off, and the other shoe on.”)

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“Diddle, Diddle, Dumpling, My Son John” was the influence of this dream.

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Morning of July 2, 2017. Sunday.



My wife Zsuzsanna and our children as we appear now are apparently living in the Cubitis house. However, my entire dream takes place outside, mostly in the backyard, though there is an additional feature of the north side of my middle school incorrectly rendered as the north side of the house, another unique composite of which my dream self does not question. (No two settings in my dreams, even in tens of thousands, are ever the same.) The time, which remains consistent, seems to be late morning.

I notice a wooden shipping crate in the backyard, close to the middle of the house (east side). I am puzzled over when it arrived and wonder who it belongs to as I consider it might have been left by mistake. I notice a small engraved circle on the side facing east.

I lift the crate up (and it seems to have no bottom) and notice the feet of at least two chickens. There are also other animals, though I do not learn what they are. Two tiny chicks, not much bigger than my thumb, are walking about at one point. There is feed already on the ground, but I also find a bag with supposed feed to give them. The “feed” is very small, seemingly small white triangular pebbles, some flatter than others, though still too big for them to eat. I find smaller feed and let it fall from between my fingers and they eat some of it. Throughout my dream, I am mostly in somewhat of a squatting position or on my knees.

There is also a miniature monkey. He is only about the size of a marmoset. He wears a bellhop cap. After looking about later, I see, off to my right, that he had been suffocated or crushed by pillows and large cushions that somehow had been placed or thrown over him (though I do not question why pillows would be outside on the ground). It is a sad realization, as I know our children might have liked him as a pet. He is on his back and his small body is stiff. I pick him up but there are no signs of life.

In the final scene, I am near what looks like the north side of the middle school that I attended many years ago, though it is still meant to be the north side yard of the Cubitis house, though as mentioned in the first paragraph, my dream self does not question this or reflect upon it at all (despite its much larger area than the house and yard). As I walk along easterly to the backyard again after talking to a couple members of my family, I strongly believe that I can will the monkey back to life. I am not lucid but I still have an idea in my mind that I can do this via thought alone. I focus and direct my thoughts. Very slowly, he comes back to life and seems fully alive and normal. I throw very small breadcrumbs on the ground and watch him eat.

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