Blue_Opossum

Morning of September 11, 2017. Monday.



My dream is non-lucid, yet I am aware at one level that I am making my world and the events that unfold and I understand my dream’s autosymbolism while I am in it without recalling what a dream is.

I am with my wife Zsuzsanna on a city bus. I am aware that the setting seems to be the north side of La Crosse (though Zsuzsanna has never been in America in real life).

The bus is rendered incorrectly. Although it seems to be in America and the bus driver seems like a bus driver of whom I knew in real life (also in America), the driver’s side is on the right and the doors are on the left. My dream self does not consider this as wrong though. Zsuzsanna and I are on the right, only a couple seats back from the driver.

Over time, I am uncertain of our destination or of any cohesive backstory. There is a scene where the bus stops near an intersection. I have somewhat of an expectation that it will turn to the right and softly bump the back of a parked car and it does. The driver does not seem alarmed or surprised, but cheerfully comments “oops” and backs the bus up and turns to the left.

I realize that where we get off has something to do with me waking from the dream state. I remember that a bus ride symbolizes the return to consciousness (and that waking symbolism is “correctly” oriented to my right), and yet somehow, my dream self does not maintain viable lucidity or the viable memory of what a dream actually is. (This is difficult to resolve in conscious afterthought but is a fairly common way of thinking in my non-lucid dreams. It is what it is. It is probably a result of over fifty continuous years of dream documentation and study, and resolving most of them.)

I do not consider that I could just wake up by willing it (even as in certain non-lucid dreams) as I have done in many past dreams. I think that the bus stop I have to get off at in order to achieve consciousness is on the right side of the street when going south and is near the Rivoli Theatre (the bus stop sign being unrealistically high, nearly as high as a traffic light), but I do wake before we reach the area.

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Time and time again, for over fifty years, I have written about how the preconscious is never dominant or aggressive (other than when biologically premonitory) when I am already willingly in the waking transition (albeit, typically subliminal as such), and it is as true here as always. Here, the preconscious (bus driver) even cheerfully allows me to deliberately cause the bus that he is otherwise driving to softly bump into a car by (subliminal) mental will before moving on. (This bump is likely symbolic of Zsuzsanna and I softly bumping each other while sleeping, since vehicles typically symbolize the human body or holding the mode of unconsciousness in real time.)

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Morning of September 11, 2017. Monday.



I am walking with two unknown males, a situation of which continued from a very long previous dream sequence. I think about robbing a place, but the details are not clear yet. I eventually realize that I am carrying a Glock pistol. Soon, I “realize” that I am a black female of perhaps about twenty-five years old.

It seems late at night. I go into a small trailer park in an open field where a dense forest is to my left. An unknown black female, but of whom is apparently known to the character I presently am, complains about me being there to rob her again (though I do not recall any backstory for this). Other than that, she does not seem alarmed by my gun. She opens a couple drawers in a large chest of drawers in her trailer. There is a bundle of one-hundred-dollar bills in an even stack, partly wrapped in cellophane. There is also a roll of fifty-dollar bills held together with a rubber band. There are also numerous rolls of coins. I tell her to keep some of the money, including the roll of fifties, but she insists that I take all of it. I put everything in two bags. There are several other items besides the American money, including bottles of perfume and shampoo and small items of clothing. I leave the trailer park, walking briskly east. I see a couple others outside of their trailers on my right, one an older black male of about sixty.

Somehow, it is suddenly daylight now, possibly early afternoon. I am with two unknown Caucasian males (though one reminds me vaguely of Don K from the early 1980s). I am seemingly now a male character, though not fully myself and perhaps about twenty years old. We seem to be going west on Sill Street, having gone past Wood Street and possibly Kane Street. I decide to toss my gun on the ground near the intersection near the trunk of a tree so I am not armed if caught (thinking I would be in less trouble). Still, I consider that may not be a good idea as a child might find it. The others and I continue, but eventually turn right to go north. I continue to carry my two bags.

We seem happy until one of the males looks back and sees another male who apparently knows us. It may be that he will cause trouble or at least be annoying if he sees us and catches up with us. The male who recognizes this other male tells us all to go our separate ways. “I have to try to wake him up,” he says in an authoritative tone. He goes across the front lawns of a few houses on the right side of the street and I am still following him, unsure of the situation. He yells with frustration and waves me off, indicating to me not to follow him. The male who had been behind us is apparently sleepwalking. He has long black hair and a long black beard and has on blue jeans but no shoes, socks, or shirt. He starts cheerfully talking to the male that seems to know who he is. “I can’t understand anything you’re saying,” the sleepwalking male is told, “You’re speaking gibberish”.

I continue to go north a short distance, but then turn around to go through a very narrow residential alley back southward. I am slightly concerned that I might annoy people by going through or close to their backyards but I do not see anyone. At the end of the alley are two closed chain-link gates about chest-high, side by side. Each of the two gates is for a different house, which makes no sense, as the alley goes past all houses on the block and the gates are adjacent to the public sidewalk. Before I get to them, I have to climb quickly up over a couple large full garbage bags and some other objects. At first, I think the gates might be locked, but I am able to open them by turning a horizontal L-shaped bolt lock. The detail is very vivid and realistic in appearance (but unlike any setting I had ever seen in real life). The sense of physical momentum and touch is vivid as well.

A few police officers approach me and look in my bags and ask me where I am going. I see that there are a lot of rolls of coins in them. I insist that everything is mine, but they seem condescending. While pretending that I am totally innocent, I am eventually able to get away. One policewoman seems to think I am okay and seems to see me as being victimized by the other officers. However, a chubby male officer seems determined that I will be caught again and found to have robbed someone, or possibly a bank.

I somehow end up going through the second floor of a business building. There are a few times when I fly after getting outside again, but I end up walking again, as my two bags are heavy. I somehow end up back near Sill and Kane and recall how I had deliberately thrown my gun there (at the northeast corner) but I do not see it. It is daylight at this time.

I am now briskly walking south through the north side of La Crosse (except that it looks more like the south side) and it seems to be night once again. I somehow have my gun again without contemplating that I had gotten rid of it. I am the black female character again. I make sure my gun is holstered in the front of my pants and unseen. I am thinking of finding the Loomis Street house to hide out even though that does not make sense as I am supposedly someone else. I vaguely recall that my sister had died but that my brother-in-law may be there (though they had actually moved prior to my sister’s death, though I was living in Australia by that time). I continue to carry the two cloth bags of money and other items, one in each hand. I notice that about eight people are running towards me, though not directly towards me. I think they may have attempted to rob a closed business but none of them are carrying anything. Police cars go by but they curiously do not stop. (The scene of these looters, including their appearance, was very similar to something I did not know about until after this dream and seeing it on the news, so I am considering this part as prescient.)

I cross the street (which may be a distorted version of Loomis Street, though too commercial) to my right and turn right down a very narrow alley with tall commercial buildings on each side. The alley is not wide enough for a car to follow me through and is at least two city blocks long. However, nearing the opening ahead, I see a puff of smoke going past the edge of a building on the left side of the end of the alley at about head level. It is the chubby policeman, who is smoking a cigarette, who had vowed to catch me. I knock him in the head with my heavy bags and knock him over. The police woman, who seems to be on my side, is possibly going to help me escape now.

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The preconscious modelling itself artificially, or mimicking itself, in needing to wake another dream character (instead of me) is about as surreal and unusual as it gets (even stranger than a false awakening where I am writing down or telling someone about my previous dream). The threads of my dream self identity changing a few times (without any focus on that dynamic) is rather odd as well.

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