Morning of November 26, 2018. Monday. Dreams #: 18,970-4, 18,970-3, and 18,970-2. Reading time: 1 min 45 sec. Readability score: 74. This entry contains content from three dreams. It is nighttime. I am living in La Crosse in an unknown part of town. It is freezing outside. I am aware of Marilyn (half-sister on my mother’s side), but I do not recall that she had died in 2014. She appears as she was in the 1960s. There is no factor of my conscious self identity present (other than my subliminal awareness of being asleep as evidenced by putting blankets around me) and no memory of ever having lived in Australia. (The non-lucid dream self, contrary to popular misconception, lacks viable contact with the unconscious mind.) I am uncertain of the living arrangement, but I am going for a long walk (without knowing the backstory). I make several attempts to wrap two blankets around my winter clothes but cannot cover all of my neck. One is the plaid one familiar to me in real life and which I presently have in my computer room. (I did have it over my shoulders when it was cold.) I go back into the unknown house (though familiar to my dream self) at least once. I can see my breath when I am walking outside. Although I have one blanket around my shoulders like a cape, I try to wrap the other one over the front of my body with less success. That dream was caused by being overheated before waking. In another dream, I see an outer view of the Starship Enterprise (in outer space), looking at it from the front. Soon, I see three Apollo astronauts coming out of a square trapdoor opening at the top of the saucer section, near the front. Their size is far too big to match the scale of the spaceship. Logically, they could not have come from the space inferred. There is only room for them to stand atop the saucer section. I am semi-lucid at this point. In my final dream, I am feeling too hot, and I am wholly aware of being in the dream state. At this point, I decide to wake. Trying to wake up is a bit slow. To do this, I absentmindedly become part cat. I have a cat’s tail and paws for hands, but a mostly human body. I try to climb a wall that represents achieving full consciousness, but instead, my legs and arms rapidly move in place with no results. At this point, I am virtually incorporeal but watching my other dream self still trying to climb the wall as part cat, part man in an exaggerated flurry of illusory physical movement, and I wake from here.
Morning of November 23, 2018. Friday. Dream #: 18,967-04. Reading time: 2 min 52 sec. Readability score: 59. King Street boarding house in La Crosse in late morning. (Irrelevant to waking life since 1990). I may have descended the imaginary staircase (though I do not have the memory of it) to sustain and vivify my dream. I am at the bottom of the staircase from the second floor, where there is the fictitious feature of an L-shaped foyer where I remain until my dream ends. My landlady comes in from her kitchen and tells me to mop the floor in this area. The mop bucket is to my left. The mop is next to it. I do not use any water. I guide the mop over the floor and soon see a C-shaped clump of dust that it gathers and consider if I should tell the landlady that I should sweep the floor first. Soon, I see several Kinder Surprise toys on the floor, one of them a small penguin figure. I move the mop, and they are all in a small cluster. I hear my youngest daughter talking from upstairs, though I do not discern what she is saying. My landlady comes in (again from her kitchen) and asks me if my daughter has eaten yet. I am uncertain but tell her that she may have gotten something on her own. I inform her that I will be taking my daughter “to the north side” (meaning Northside La Crosse, to the Loomis Street house). She seems concerned that my daughter is on her own upstairs and mentions something about having heard of a boy on a CD, who recently died. (This is possibly my infra-self distorting “TV” to prevent a literal waking life translation, as the unconscious mind is not viably accessible in the dream state, contrary to popular misconception.) My dream starts decoding itself a moment before waking. None of our children have ever lived in America, let alone Northside La Crosse (or the King Street mansion on the south side of town either). I do not use the mop bucket, because I subliminally recall that water represents melatonin and potential dream state reinduction (and mopping or cleaning being an inherited biological thread of the glymphatic system, when fluid increases in cells while sleeping). (Because of this, water in the nexus, other than when I am entering or anticipating a return to sleep, never occurs. Despite the presence of the mop bucket and thinking it might be full of water, I never actually look into it and use the mop in its dry condition. Why? Because I am subliminally aware of being in the dream state - non-lucid - and my daughter might need me as perceived by RAS - even though Zsuzsanna is also awake, thus I do not seek to reinduce my sleep cycle.) For many years (even in childhood), I have been trying to determine if there is any consistent cause as to which threads of the current conscious self survive the demolition past the nexus and the transpersonal interconsciousness into non-lucid dream space. The infra-self is focused on the transition through the sleeping, dreaming, and waking space, not real life or from the viewpoint of the conscious self identity as in waking life, which ceases to exist in non-lucid dream space (one of many reasons I wholly dismiss “dream interpretation” in the typical use of the term). My youngest daughter is the sole liminal presence here based on something presently real in my life (though my dream self has no memory of my current address or that we live in Australia even in otherwise having recognition of my daughter). The reason is that she was awake and talking in reality at the time (in the lounge room) and it filtered through the nexus, the only thread that reached my infra-self. The staircase leads down into the (fictitious) L-shaped foyer. A foyer or porch is often a concurrent “bridge” within the nexus in all modes of dream manifestation (subliminal, liminal, and lucid) and RAS (reticular activating system) processes. It is used the same way in hypnosis and meditation. However, a staircase is not just about initiating consciousness in the waking process (or using it to vivify a dream when descending one). It is also about breaking the imaginary physicality of liminal space and becoming aware of the physical body (vestibular system correlation).
Morning of November 22, 2018. Thursday. Dream #: 18,966-01. Reading time: 1 min 40 sec. Readability score: 50. I am looking at the ocean while I am incorporeal. It is near either sunrise or sunset. The ocean’s surface has a purple hue. A drone that I see as firstly flying high in the sky reaches a small island. At first, I do not know what it is. It had been sent to study lemurs. Eventually, I feel that it is invasive and unwarranted. There is a family of lemurs that sits in what is more like an oversized bird nest. An unfamiliar narrator’s voice (very rare in my dreams), as if as part of a documentary, mentions something about the mother lemur and “what she makes of it.” (I hear “make” twice, but I do not recall the full phrase. It seems to imply making something in a literal context but is ambiguous.) I am aware that the mother lemur may capture the drone and hide it somewhere, like inside the nest or covered with something, to prevent humans from watching them or discovering where they are. Purple (as a dominant feature) is an uncommon color in my dreams (though so is orange) and only dominates when coming up more quickly out of slow-wave sleep, of which the ocean represents the residual essence. (Ocean presence of a vivid discernment, other than its depths, typically only occurs in the last dream of a sleep cycle, whereas rivers, lakes, and streams occur near the beginning of every sleep cycle and often even when I am not asleep, in the first stages of hypnagogia. I associate water with the natural melatonin process and sleep itself, usually hearing the imaginary sound of water as I enter sleep.) Lemurs, as well as monkeys, on the fundamental level, are often a precursory subliminal association with coming up out of the dream state, a representation of the infra-self. Flying autosymbolism (either projected or inherited) has occurred in my dreams at least once (typically more than once) during every sleep cycle for over fifty years. It is the main factor of vestibular system correlation, the primary process of resolving physicality because the physicality of the dream state is imaginary (which triggers falling dreams, the so-called “waking start”). The drone is the emerging consciousness factor in this transition, a non-lucid and often invasive dynamic by way of the preconscious, seeking out my infra-self (the lemurs in this case) to initiate consciousness. A look at thousands of my (non-lucid) dream posts on Tumblr (once autosymbolism is legitimately understood) will reveal the same processes with infinite variations.
Morning of November 19, 2018. Monday. Dream #: 18,963-04 and # 18,963-05. Reading time: 42 sec. Readability score: 52. Having fallen asleep briefly while sitting on our couch, there is the usual natural melatonin trope of the illusory sound of splashing water. Someone unknown had thrown a hardcover book, and it breaks the surface of a pond. This autosymbolic event is a lifelong recurring process that encodes my liminal acknowledgment that the wakefulness required for the reading of a book is usually no longer present when sleeping. Later, while lying in our bed, an additional melatonin trope is present, this time as an upside-down surface of a water body about three feet above me (atypical). A whirlpool (vestibular nexus) forms. At the same time, I hear the sound of a helicopter rotor, though it is very soft and pleasant. It is as if a whirlpool and a helicopter rotor (without the helicopter present in this case) are the same. A hummingbird flies down from out of the “whirlpool” and cheerfully says “hi” in a young feminine voice (water nymph as shapeshifter) but as if the formant is a band higher. I am very amused by this brief encounter.
Morning of November 18, 2018. Sunday. Dream #: 18,962-02. Reading time: 2 min 42 sec. Readability score: 53. One would think that after over fifty years, the same dreaming and waking processes in the same order and with the same foundational autosymbolism would trigger more viable threads of conscious self identity and recognition beyond subliminal RAS mediation than what occurs at certain stages of the sleep cycle. In this particular case though, my subliminal recognition of the dream state resulted in me resetting it, as had often happened before. My dream was mainly from the influence of a movie, “What Ever Happened to Aunt Alice?” (1969), that Zsuzsanna and I watched last night, despite it being of the typical transition through the nexus, which in this case, is a supposedly hidden room rather than, for example, a porch. The focus revolves around someone I had supposedly killed, a younger male, possibly accidentally. (The backstory, again based on the movie, is unclear). The urban location is unfamiliar and unknown. The person’s remains are under a commercial business building near a corner. I had somehow done this even though I was not involved in the construction of the building. The Sleeper (the “dead” person) transmutes into a cheerful emerging consciousness simulacrum in the last scene before the offset dream, without my dream self finding it unusual. There are many typical scenes of evading the authorities, one of them (the preconscious simulacrum) in particular. The emerging consciousness travels with me after someone finds their remains. The building is already being taken down during this time. (In the movie, the remains were under pine trees.) He (the activated Sleeper aka previously “killed” character) helps me find a secret panel in the wall of a nearby building, in a hall. I first try to phase into the wall (as with many past dreams in subliminal, liminal, and lucid manipulation of the dream state). Instead, a panel opens, and we step into a supposedly hidden area. I reason that going deeper into the area will result in us being less likely to be found as well as being farther from the entrance point (the same “logic” as in hundreds of previous dreams of the same type). (This scenario, naturally becoming the most vivid segment of my dream, replaces the typical porch-as-nexus event, in correlation with enigmatic space as the association between dreaming and waking. It includes “puzzles,” associations with detectives, ambiguity relating to where my real physical body is, and so on. Of course, it is not possible to “hide” from the natural preconscious transition.) However, upon walking into another area, the avatar tells me that “this is his office,” meaning the office of the police sergeant that had been after me. I notice how it looks like an ordinary office and is not hidden from public access on one side, finding it annoying that there is not much prospect for a genuinely hidden room. The police sergeant eventually comes in. I reset my dream, and it becomes a scenario where the police sergeant is the one responsible for the “death.” He is supposedly a vampire, which I tell a few people - and I have film footage to prove it. I then liminally reset my dream into an offset scenario of the typical vestibular system correlation process. I am helping someone, though only at times, who is in a wheelchair, as we descend an unlikely staircase built of various big stones in an outdoor rural area adjacent to a mountain. (In other cases, I am consciously aware of using this process to sustain or vivify a dream.) We have a little trouble, but we cheerfully descend several steps without incident, even though some of them are two to three feet high. He seems to find it amusing and mostly maneuvers his wheelchair on his own. There is no preconscious simulacrum at this point, only the emerging consciousness (as the otherwise typical vestibular system avatar) in the wheelchair. (This stems from both “What Ever Happened to Aunt Alice?” and the new “The Flash” television series, where characters are in wheelchairs without needing to be as a part of their “disguise.”)
Morning of November 14, 2018. Wednesday. Dream #: 18,958-02. Reading time (optimized): 3 min. Readability score: 58. In a previous dream including my conscious self’s identity and to some extent in real life, I had been building a more extensive paradigm understructure for my online dream journal as a way to make it more idiot-proof, despite there being virtually no evidence that mainstream humanity has any understanding of the induction, dreaming, and waking processes. I had been focusing on “personifications of” while branching into more specific factors of vestibular system correlation, nexus simulacrums, and melatonin mediation. During this time, my dream self loses most of its present waking life identity while still holding a subliminal awareness of concurrent physicality and a minimal degree of lucid dream state awareness to where only a sliver of my conscious self’s identity remains extant; just enough to deliberately enter the role of another denizen to experiment with the dream space. The backstory of an upcoming wedding comes to the forefront. It is a transpersonal thread adjacent to the virtual foreshore. There is the sighting of an unknown groom of about twenty-five in my incorporeal glimpse. I possess the body of a man who is about eighty years old to sustain his role in attaining a sacred stick from a secret area for the unknown young groom (who remains in another part of town), maintaining faith that any other sentient presence in the dream space will not detect me as an imposter. The interconsciousness borrows pieces of a setting that I had not lived in real life for years, making sure it is incorrect in design so that it is not mistaken for having waking life relevance or the fallacy of symbolism that the unintelligent pursue. I am at an erroneous version of the Stadcor Street house in Brisbane. This version of the house has an enclosed wooden back porch, which expands over the area that the utility room was in real life (though the utility room was at ground level). Another male, unknown, about the age of the man whose body I possess, is with me, remaining on my left (dream attention orientation, as I sleep on my left side). I do not see the house as a place of significance, and my dream self only vaguely realizes that it is an illusory model of a place I had once lived. There is little of my conscious self identity that remains extant. We are to meet with a man who is over a hundred years old, known only as General. Another man who is about a hundred years old arrives first. The four of us briefly appraise each other. I marvel at how wrinkled their faces are. I nod to General, addressing him solely and lightly with “General.” He does not seem to suspect I am not the old man. I feel comfortable in my fictitious role. He had stepped from a back room of the house, perhaps the kitchen in assuming that this fake house was somewhat like the original. The other man had come in from outside. My dream self’s attention does not focus on the porch setting as the nexus within liminal space; that virtual bridge which I had entered thousands of times in previous dreams since early childhood. Despite “General” being a military association with the preconscious and interconsciousness simulacra, I do not anticipate dominance by their presence. We go out into the backyard. It seems to be late morning. I am holding a large irregular stick in my left hand. We all have walking sticks, but the groom’s sacred stick is just beyond the backyard in a cluster of trees. In reality, this would have been our neighbor’s backyard, which was divided from ours by a small fence. As I am walking, the other end of my stick, still being used with my left hand, somehow gets stuck between two small cages (the bottom of one and the top of the other). I am not sure if they contain any animals. A big cloth is covering them. It takes me a few minutes to pull it out. The man who had been with me, the first one, seems slightly annoyed and moves to help me, but the stick is already out. Liminal awareness had established that I was sleeping on my left arm in an uncomfortable position, which became a factor of my dream’s scenario, altering its potential. My dream self absentmindedly points this out, with the stick, where my essence is, beneath the cloth (bed sheet) and asleep, my waking self “caged” within the virtual lattice of physicality.
Morning of November 10, 2018. Saturday. Dream #: 18,954-02. Reading time: 2 min 26 sec. Readability score: 66. I am looking at a map of the island of Sulawesi (Celebes) with its very unusual shape. I notice an isolated fictitious town with the name of “Core” that is otherwise where Central, West, and South Sulawesi meet. There are mostly only native inhabitants there. I project my dream self into the map to create the foundation of my dream. I decide I will play the role of introducing new opportunities and resources to the region. At one point, I mentally create diced pineapples in a bowl and the tribal leader enjoys them. I reassure him that I will only allow a few tourists to come to the area only during certain time periods and that I will have my team clean the region on a regular basis. At another point, several soldiers, all in black, come to occupy the area. I mentally create an army that comes in from a ship and wipes them all out. I decide to go on a journey to Los Angeles. An unfamiliar backpacker asks if he can go with us, and I say yes. I enjoy the idea of a random dream denizen (almost as if I see him as “real” or having perception) being on my ship in my dream. Although the trip is supposed to last several days, we arrive there within minutes. I try to make the ocean waves more interesting. In the distance, there seem to be huge “curtains.” I alter the nature and progression of my dream with the intent of increasing my dream state awareness. I create rain to sustain and vivify my dream to astounding levels (as water and its specific dynamics has always been a natural melatonin factor of the dream state). The weight and coolness of the water is incredibly realistic. I slowly fly in standing position above an unknown town in semidarkness. I marvel at the pleasurable sensations of the rain that falls upon my skin and the realistic, vivid sound of rain all around me. I fly slowly over a small canal with culverts on each end. I eventually land and bring out the sun. I walk down a wooden sidewalk and notice the nexus simulacrum (personified preconscious) going through a doorway built adjacent to the building on my right but of which goes to the intersection, but I mentally force him to turn around. I ask him, “What is your name?” He looks puzzled and in a hurry. “What is your name?” I ask him two more times, in case there is an interconsciousness thread present. I maintain the expectation that the nexus simulacrum may have a level of transpersonal intelligence that may not originate from my dream self. He answers with “Dennis Sunimun.” I let him leave, as he seems late for a business meeting. Still, “Dennis” is the name of my brother and “Sunimun” is an obvious distortion of “sunny man.” I was hoping for something more, evidence of intelligence beyond my own, which has been present in certain previous dreams. I reset my dream, with the possibility I will wake myself, but I end up in an offset dream of lesser vividness. Still, I make my way to a library to write down the event. I walk through midair, about ten feet above the street, with a few random people. In the library, I read handwritten details in a notebook. I write “Dennis Sunimun” several times, but when I look each time, I am not sure if it is clear enough to carry over into my conscious memory and I try writing it again. Finally, I go into another area of the library and walk out with my family.
Morning of November 2, 2018. Friday. Dream #: 18,946-03. Reading time (optimized): 1 min. Readability score: 68. In my dream, I am in the living room of the King Street mansion (which served as a boarding house). I am focused upon the cuckoo clock on the south wall (erroneous location). It seems to be late morning. The owners are presently out, possibly on vacation. I want to get to my apartment (in this case the middle room of the east side of the mansion on the second floor), but there is no door. I am using the cuckoo clock as a replica of the house, where it is somewhat like a virtual Chinese puzzle box. I must turn certain sections of the clock to correlate with the real doors of the house. There are also sections that move in and out like slots. I consider that I may not still be living here (on a rental basis) and that I want to be in my bedroom before the owners return. I maintain a cheerful attitude even though the entry points of the clock do not perfectly match that of the house itself. My dream had the typical dream state components: The cuckoo clock (association with flight and the vestibular system correlation of the waking process). The clock theme itself (ultradian and circadian rhythm of the sleep cycle). The puzzle, and solving it (nature of enigmatic space, where the dream self identity and the conscious self identity are still separate). Getting to a bedroom (literal bed space strand and subliminal awareness of being in the dream state, becoming liminal prior to waking).
Morning of November 5, 2018. Monday. Dream #: 18,949-05. Reading time (optimized): 2 min. Readability score: 38. In my dream, I am in an unknown location, though it is likely implied to be America as Dennis (half-brother on my mother’s side) is present. He appears as he was in the 1970s. There is an unfamiliar dream state denizen with me (male, about twenty years old) when Dennis starts talking about taking us on a ride on his motorcycle and even giving us our own motorcycles. I am not interested and he becomes very angry, telling me what a great motorcycle he is giving me. There is a long argument of the typical preconscious content (though I am not lucid). He eventually leaves. There is the typical indoor-outdoor ambiguity, where I look upon a highway that also somehow seems to be inside an unknown building. Dennis has transformed into a foot-long piece of yellow police tape (and my dream self does not consider this unusual). “He” is lying near the middle of the highway. I consider that cars may run over him as he is blown about, but I do not feel any concern. Conflict in my dreams (subliminal, liminal, and lucid modes) is typically a result of biologically induced reticular formation simulacra and my dream self’s willingness to correlate with the RAS factor of the waking process, and in lucidity, I am actually aware of this factor (thus there can be no doubt, as real lucidity brings about this knowledge - and an experienced lucid dreamer would know that “interpretation” in the popular sense is a misconception). A vehicle typically represents (projected or inherited) correlation of induction (beginning of sleep cycle) or waking (end of sleep cycle) physicality by way of vestibular system dynamics, even before full consciousness is achieved. (The preconscious is active in the waking process before the conscious self identity is, which is probably why many people do not remember their dreams.) I have not seen Dennis in real life since 1994 and our minimal Facebook contact has remained cheerful. The yellow police tape comes from two factors, the nexus between dreaming and waking (fuzziness about the conscious self identity when sleeping, and the reticular formation by way of the preconscious as authority over the dream self) as a liminal space divider, and a literal association with the Halloween tape we had on our fence recently for trick-or-treaters (as a fence is a literal liminal space divider in real life, which correlates with the nexus of the waking process being a model as such).
Morning of November 9, 2018. Friday. Dream #: 18,953-02. Reading time: 2 min 34 sec. Readability score: 52. My family and I are living in Cubitis (false scenario - Zsuzsanna has never lived in America). There is a computer set up in the northeast corner of the living room (another false scenario - computer technology of this nature did not exist when I last lived in Cubitis). This is a typical false scenario when my dream self recalls my present life status regarding marriage and family, but no recall of where we live, validating that the unconscious mind and valid memory is not viable in non-lucid dreams. I had been looking at the dream journal website. I am planning to capture all of the content in scholastic loose-leaf binders (3-ring binders), similar to the appearance of my dream journals from 1968 to 1979 (after which I used much bigger binders). I have a dark blue binder full of content from 2018 (and I erroneously perceive 2018 as being “last year”). There is a white rectangular label that reads “2018” on the cover. Over time, I create more binders (out of nowhere, on thought alone) by writing over the label on the first binder first, and then on each next label. I write a “7” over the “8” of 2018, and an additional binder appears on the table for 2017 content. I do this several times for different years. I start looking through them when I have about six. On the first page of one journal, someone had written information about a dream, but the small paragraph seems to be solely made up of several distorted (misspelled) variations of my first and last name. However, I know that it is not related to me, but I find it curious, for example, “clauc lc duc dua ld cluc u alc ac au.” I can make no sense of what it is about. I consider that the entry might be at least partly in Latin. I accidentally write a “1” over a “0”, so that it reads 2108 in the resulting new journal (which was supposed to be 2008), which suddenly expands, fanning more pages than any other binder and causing the binder to be too full to close, but the pages are all blank. I will it away and continue with other content. I go back to 2001 (when the dream journal website was first online) before waking. Literal dream space threads are common even in my non-lucid dreams. My dream self’s real-time focus is typically on the dream state itself, and its dynamics and mediation (whether in subliminal, liminal, or lucid modes), therefore “interpretation” (or what people call “meaning” rather than genuine concurrent causation) is a major misconception, probably the biggest misconception regarding any subject in human history. In fact, it can be clearly understood that creating events and features by thought or anticipation is evidence that I always know when I am in the dream state whether or not I am lucid, and non-lucid dream control is a primary factor of my dreaming history. As shown by my keyword statistics on one website, reading is one of the most common activities in my dreams, though words and phrases often change when looking again or change into gibberish. The only activities more common than reading in my dreams are music-related and flying (not counting interaction with water-reinducers or summoning related simulacrums). This developed out of personal will to become more aware in the dream state (and it is a more common “reality check” for some oneironauts, though I do not use “reality checks” as it undermines reticular formation function). I got this idea from my mother, who often dreamt of reading, and her knowledge of how writing typically changed in the dream state when looking again, thus I have always used reading as a potential precursor to stabilize the presence of my conscious self identity in the dream state (not as a “reality check”).
Morning of November 8, 2018. Thursday. Dream #: 18,952-02. Reading time (optimized): 2 min. Readability score: 63. I become aware in non-lucidity of being in an unknown room in semidarkness. Marilyn (half-sister on my mother’s side, deceased) is watching something on a big screen. (I do not recall that she had died in February 2014, and I had not seen her in real life since February 1994. She appears as she was in the 1960s.) It is not discernible at first. A slide projector and another device are near me. The image on the screen is mostly sky, but there is a fuzzy pale rendering of a broadcast tower. I make some remarks about it. (Eventually, there had been some unusual thoughts about which times near the end of the year that Marilyn had been alive and when she had not, which makes no sense. My non-lucid dream self must have forgotten the definitions of “death” and “life.”) Over time, I turn a dial on the device and the image of the broadcast tower becomes clearer. Soon, the imagery changes and is taking up the entire screen as a lattice of a broadcast tower. Simultaneously, my dream becomes more vivid. I realize that I can now create and control imagery, but I am not yet lucid. I bring about the imagery of a tunnel to my right. It is holographic and about four feet up from the floor. It is a corrugated metal culvert pipe. My cat Smokey from over twenty years ago comes through, and I pet her. I explain to Marilyn what cat it is even though she would have known. There is something within my mind about summoning a denizen from the nexus, the space between dreaming and waking, which the cat represents. I realize that the broadcast tower was a deliberate creation to augment the dynamics of my current conscious self identity in the dream state and so I enter apex lucidity, where the dream state is wholly mine. Looking at the broadcast tower lattice, it now appears to have pieces of pillow stuffing in equidistant patterns in certain corners. I summon a young Zsuzsanna as when we first met in 1994. She shines with internal energy. The tangibility reaches hyper-realistic forms, indistinguishable from waking life other than being more defined than would be possible in reality. We indulge in making love for a considerable time. There is a point where she floats above me, glowing internally, and rushes at me, this stemming from deliberate anticipation. There is a notion of a vampire theme (in a role-playing context, though horror movie scenarios have remained difficult to make as I have gotten older), initiated by typical lucid dream state frisson, but I cannot sustain the concept, as my thinking skills are too active. Certain levels of apex lucidity are such a different experience and level of perception and control it is like a different level of existence. The broadcast tower of enhancing the dream state seems as viable as the opening of a door (or opening a wall like a door) or the use of a staircase.
Afternoon of November 7, 2018. Wednesday. Dream #: 18,951-07. Reading time: 40 sec. Readability score: 60. Ralph Waite as on the 1980s television series “The Mississippi” is the main speaker at a meeting in a business-like environment in a large office, though he sits at a desk while speaking. He is wearing a dark suit. I am semi-lucid, and in the back of my mind, I had been contemplating more precise terms for common induction, dreaming, and waking processes for statistical reasons. One of these was considering the statistical variation between male and female vestibular system simulacrums to see if there was a significant difference when part of the flight symbol subset. Ralph’s talk seems to be about the nature of dreams and laws regarding them, but I do not discern the content of what he is telling the other males. He has a hardcover book open and refers to it now and then. There is a slight change of mood, and Ralph sits atop a giant sparrow (suddenly outside the building) and flies off on it. male vestibular system simulacrum (in flight), (Ralph Waite) literal dream space thread
Morning of October 31, 2018. Wednesday. Dream #: 18,944-03. Reading time: 1 min 48 sec. Readability score: 72. I lose my conscious self identity in a later water reinduction stage. I am still in a canoe that is floating through a marsh, probably Mink Slough. Two unfamiliar children are with me, a boy and a girl. I am young as well, though possibly about eighteen. The water seems shallower at one point. There is much vegetation protruding from the water’s surface. The plants are multicolored, that is, different colors in different sections. Someone had coated all the dried-up leaves with a few different colors of spray paint, including blue, red, and yellow. I consider that it was a thoughtless act, as it will likely cause environmental problems. Eventually, we reach the bank and leave the canoe. The King Street landlady has given the children a task to build what I first think is a rabbit cage. (This is an association with early childhood, as my father had a rabbit farm.) There are pieces of wood, screen, and wire to use to build the cage. They are in a pile near the south end of the King Street house. I decide that I will help, but the boy had already built a cage when I pick up a few random boards. In the last scene, I am in the King Street mansion’s kitchen. There is a birdcage where the sink was in real life. The boy may have been cleaning the cage already, as when he leaves the room, there is birdseed stuck all over his face. He does not seem to care. Curiously, the last scene was from a minimal thought while watching “Cargo” (2017) last night, when the girl Thoomi was eating something and got seeds or crumbs stuck on her lips and face. I have always found it astounding how the non-lucid dream self can take one fleeting impersonal trivial thought and make it part of a dream scenario. The movie was about zombies, and yet I have never dreamt of zombies in the apocalyptic sense. (In a dream from 1981, they were based on the original usage of the term as slow-moving sleepwalking slaves, but were revealed to be actors.) I think it is because of how they move so unnaturally in such movies when my reticular formation and vestibular system mostly only create fluid movements in dreams. That, and it is difficult to imagine very sick people as being stronger or faster than healthy people. The common melatonin mediation factor appears here (as occurs one or more times each sleep cycle). It starts with water induction and ends with vestibular system correlation (the boy in the kitchen as the vestibular simulacrum leaving the birdcage - and note how the birdcage was where the sink was in reality).
Morning of November 3, 2018. Saturday. Dream #: 18,947-02. Reading time (optimized): 2 min. I enter my dream in a very unusual way for a morning dream. The process is so slow that I am hardly aware of the distinction between my waking thoughts and the dreamscape slowly coming into existence. (This usually only occurs in the first stage of a sleep cycle.) My conscious self identity remains fully aware. I walk into an isolated area that looks like a construction site with minimal detail. I decide to find Zsuzsanna (even though she is physically close to me in reality). There is a trailer home oriented lengthwise in the middle of a dirt road. I walk around to the other side, deciding that she will be in it. The door is too small for me to go into the structure, so I mentally will the whole wall to vanish. After she comes out, I stand with Zsuzsanna, kissing her. My state of apex lucidity is slightly glitchy. Although it is otherwise very realistic, her face glows at times and seems transparent. There is a curious quivering effect. Later, I start to throw knives at random unknown people whom I see as intruding into my dream space. They mostly go into chests and sometimes heads. There is no blood or gore. I eventually reach a point where the setting solidifies to where I am looking at a window screen (liminal space divider). It now seems to be dark out. I cannot believe how perfect and even the screen is. It defies my imagination with its evenness and perfections and remains stable until I wake. I try to create a monster to come up (to whatever building I am in) from the other side of the screen - to press its face against it. I imagine an ugly gargoyle coming up to the screen from the darkness outside. There is no change in the window or the screen’s detail. The screen remains perfect, and no monster ever appears. I get annoyed, trying to force my imagination as much as I can to come up with the ugliest monster possible, and start growling loudly to encourage the process. Nothing happens. I continue to make loud growling sounds while anticipating the appearance of a horrifying creature. Nothing appears. I realize my conscious self identity is too integrated within the dream state to allow something implausible to manifest at this point. If I were less lucid, I would probably have more dream control. A window screen represents the essence of the preconscious function (reticular activating system), so ultimately it is pointless to bring something imaginary from the other side of it. I have absentmindedly attempted this in many past dreams without success. The part with the knives seemingly stems from Zsuzsanna looking at a Deadpool knife block recently, but she had not told me about it. (They were in his head.) At least one dream per sleep cycle is telepathic (for lack of a better word), often with more precise detail depending on the nature of the feature or event.
Updated 08-27-2019 at 03:16 PM by 1390
Morning of May 24, 1970. Sunday. Dream #: 1,252-01. Reading time (optimized): 2 min. Readability score: 73. A sense of timelessness permeates my offset dream of me “sleeping” in the southwest Cubitis house’s bedroom. I see myself lying on my back (as if seeing “me” from the left side of the bed) looking up at the window (though the me in bed would not be able to see the detail of the sash window as my dream view does). Three bats flutter in and out through the missing window panes of the highest row. They move slowly and slightly erratically like butterflies more than bats. They seem to be important in a way that projects into my future well-being, many years from now. I become aware of what I first think might be a coffin to the left of the bed. (There is a vague association with the opened coffin in the Barbara Steele movie “Castle of Blood.”) However, I then perceive it as an electric reed organ. From the song: “Down by the river that flows by the coal yards”… “He says a girl name of Patches was found, floating face down in that dirty old river.” My childhood self (age nine) did not wholly understand the song. I knew Patches had drowned and that it related to love, but little else. Still, the magical beings had resurrected her in my dream. In my dream’s final scene (May 24, 1970 version), I felt myself rising into the air while watching “me” walking with Patches (Brenda) down a footpath (away from my direct view). It seems to be morning. There is a winter wind implied (even though it is summer in reality) and dead leaves blowing around. There is a strange feeling of destiny as the three entities (bats, fairies, butterflies, moths, now birds) are still watching us. I see a closeup on my right of three small birds huddling together in a supposed cold breeze. Beyond, I see “me” and Brenda walking as my dream self rises higher. I wake with a sense of deep peace and even nostalgia. After moving to Australia, Google Maps revealed the Cubitis house had become as it was in my dream. I have included the image; top, from years ago; bottom, as it is now. The bedroom was also as it was only in my dream years later while I was still living there. The bed would be in the same location, and my father had bought an electric reed organ (the kind of which a fan blows through reeds) and placed it in the same location. Zsuzsanna’s father had caught three bats in a jar when she was young and kept them for a short time. The Port Kembla Coal Terminal (near where Zsuzsanna was born) became a key coal exporting facility on Australia’s east coast. Zsuzsanna was involved (when younger) with a church of which she did not want to be. Brenda (Patches) was a stand-in in many dreams, though sometimes my “mystery girl” accurately appeared as Zsuzsanna long before I met her in waking life, even with the unlikely Hungarian-Australian accent.
Updated 11-03-2018 at 09:42 AM by 1390
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