Blue_Opossum

Morning of March 6, 2018. Tuesday.



My dream takes place in an ambiguous location as is most often the case. It seems to have an atypical essence that combines the living room (and porch in the last segment) of the Barolin Street house with my old bedroom in Cubitis.

The main focus near the beginning of my dream is upon two black plastic guns of which I supposedly had as a child (but in reality, had not, despite the sense of faux familiarty common to dreams). I seem to be about twenty years of age, though this is uncertain. I decide to throw them out, and break them into pieces. They each break into three pieces, the barrel, the stock, and the trigger (and housing).

I go to the front of the porch, where there is typical indoor outdoor ambiguity, and drop the pieces into a cardboard storage box that I assume had been put out for rubbish removal. They fall down between some other (unknown) objects on the side closest to me. Suddenly, my focus changes and I realize that this box belongs to Carol (older half-sister on my mother’s side; she died in December 2009). She appears as she was in the early 1980s. I apologize to her for accidentally dropping the pieces of my broken toy guns and mixing them with her own stored items. I tell her that they are deeper down in the box, under some other items, and that I cannot reach them now (as I am sure she does not want broken junk mixed in with her possessions). I am unsure if she is moving to another house, but that is possibly the case. She is not annoyed. She only expresses curiosity. (It is not much of an issue anyway, though my dream self greatly exaggerates the otherwise minimal event.)

From here, I start to talk to her about all the model kits of animals she had given me for Christmas when I was a boy. I mention the deer, the large black horse (of a much larger scale than the other kits), and several others, finally focusing the most on the mother bear and cubs model kit. She talks about the two small doors that opened under the base, apparently for storing something. This was not a real feature, but I accept it (false dream state memory). I vaguely associate it with a battery compartment, but my dream meanders from here into the waking transition.

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This is a very familiar autosymbolic dream template of which has repeated in one way or another, thousands of times, for over fifty years, and in fact, is one of my most common waking transitions. However, the details are otherwise usually very different, but not so different that I do not recognize all the key factors.

The first key factor is the porch setting, the porch being autosymbolism for a specific level of unconsciousness, inherently closer to the conscious self identity than other settings and almost always the last setting when rendered in a dream.

The second key factor is in the act of getting rid of my guns (even if they are only toys). This means that my dream self is subliminally aware that I am in the dream state (though not viably lucid). It means that I surrender my fictitious dream self essence to the biological factor of RAS modulation. (Liminal dream state awareness as well as liminal dream control are common factors in my dreams, as it is biologically impossible to be unaware that I am dreaming, of which has a direct influence on the autosymbolic nature of the dream itself, and this is what “interpreters” seemingly have no understanding of.)

The third key factor is RAS personification. It is passive here as my older sister Carol (as my dream self has cast away the aggressive factor into the cortex, as symbolized by the box). Preconscious “showdowns” are often rendered on a porch, even as they were in very early childhood.

I then am thankful for the nature of my life. The base of the model kit being vaguely thought of as relating to a battery compartment is related to the neural energy required to achieve consciousness reascension (waking).

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