Blue_Opossum

Morning of June 24, 2018. Sunday.



This entry is about two dreams of a different nature, though of which occurred during the same sleep cycle.

In one dream, I am in an unknown room in semidarkness. A friend and classmate from years ago, Roosevelt, is seated at a different table than I am. I am talking to him about a “different” Roosevelt as he is writing something, not listening to me very closely. The Roosevelt I am talking about is in reference to who he is now in contrast to our school days (even though virtually everything else regarding my current conscious self identity is not extant in this dream scenario). (He is now a well-known singer in Germany.) After a time, I am very puzzled by what I am thinking, as the Roosevelt at the other table is apparently the same one I am thinking of and I wonder if he will be annoyed because of this. I cannot clearly focus on the scenario. I am even wondering where the “other” Roosevelt is even though he is at the other table and there is only one Roosevelt. This is a typical dream state waking process, where my conscious self identity is emerging more slowly. The two literal threads of which are both the one Roosevelt have not yet coalesced. (Synaptic gating and preconscious coalescence is a major factor of the waking process and is often rendered by way of dream state autosymbolism.)

In my other dream, it seems I am seeking more soundfonts, though very curiously, they are actual objects rather than computer files. I have many of them and I am testing them to see if they could be feasible for producing music. There is an unknown male present in some scenes. We are sharing information on these supposed soundfonts to see which ones sound best.

These fictitious “soundfonts” are a bit like miniature comb kazoos that one must press their lips around and blow on, the difference being a vague similarity to reeds with several “teeth” and without the need for paper over them. I have a library of them which supposedly includes one million eight hundred thousand (1,800,000) different flute sounds. I also recall one relating to various sounds of trombones.

At another point, I see a set of hundreds of dog stickers or icons of which are somehow related to the soundfonts as possibly some sort of context menu or somehow descriptive, mostly only sketches. They include dog firemen and other scenes of dogs in human activities.

Much of my dream involves playing these supposed soundfonts in an unfamiliar outdoor area, though my dream eventually distorts into the usual indoor-outdoor ambiguity (the sense of being indoors and outdoors at the same time, a common factor of the dream state itself, mainly caused by subliminal awareness of being asleep in bed while thinking about being outside).

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Morning of June 28, 2018. Thursday.



One very curious factor of my dreams has been the effortless creation of interesting fictitious names. These names are most often female and sometimes implied to be that of a celebrity. Usually, this fictitious character is either a part of a vivid lucid experience or is a part of a specific type of non-lucid dreaming that is unlike other dream types and features the presence of a broadcast of the essence of watching television, though me being passively present in the broadcast setting at times (typically with a sense of ambiguity or of being incorporeal). In this case, it seemed to be an unlikely blend of television and Internet in its design as an unrealistic composite.

I am looking at information about a popular 1960s actress whose name was supposedly Spectra Lee. It appears on one part of the webpage as “Spectra.Lee” as the title of her website and related contact information. She appears in a number of 1960s photographs, some black and white. She is wearing a headscarf and sunglasses in most of them.

I suspect it is a play on “spectrally”, as I have been doing more sound engineering lately, though it could also apply to the nature of dreams and liminal space. However, after waking, I had a brief association with Elektra, the female Marvel Comics character (and of course Stan Lee).

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Morning of June 26, 2018. Tuesday.



These are two dreams during the same sleep cycle. Marilyn (older half-sister on my mother’s side who died in 2014) appears in both.

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In my first dream, I am back in the Loomis Street house. At times however, I also seem to be simultaneously present, at least in mind, in the Rose Street building (where I have not lived in real life since 1967 at age six). I am “remembering” it incorrectly though, which is usually the case in non-lucid dreams when thinking skills and viable memory (and viable contact with the unconscious mind) are not present. I am conversing with Marilyn about the Rose Street building (where she also lived in the 1960s across the hall from me and my parents).

The conversation focuses on the elevator that was, in my fictitious memory, near the back of the building. I discuss the elevator as well as the rickety steps (that were a real-life feature). I relate how my mother did not like me using that staircase. I talk more about the fictitious elevator. My dream eventually fades (without waking) and I am in a different dream scenario.

In my other dream, I am sitting on the floor in the Loomis Street dining room (where I have not been in real life since February 1994). I eventually end up drinking what I first believe to be solely soda, though from a large plastic bucket and with a long drinking straw that almost reaches the bottom of the bucket. Over time, I realize that there is more in the bucket than just soda. In fact, when I begin to focus, I realize that I drank a lot of water with laundry soap in it. In the bucket, there are also a couple of clothes (my pants and shirt, at least), a few Matchbox cars near the bottom, and other items as well as other liquids (such as orange juice) mixed in.

I mention this to Marilyn (who is in the living room near the front door) and my mother (who remains in the southwest area of the dining room) as I remain sitting on the floor. (My mother died in 2002.) I tell them how I do not feel any different after drinking this unlikely mixture of soda, laundry suds, and possibly other contents. I eventually notice a pile of clothes on the floor. I end up mostly lying on my right side, feeling very aware, and wondering if what I drank will affect me. I focus on my perception and there is a very vivid awareness but no lucidity. My dream soon fades.

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Despite my dream self not being viably lucid, I am still always aware on one level of when I am dreaming, as it is biologically impossible not to know I am dreaming. This changes the entire nature of what many people believe dreams to be.

Although my memory is not viable (because of being without viable contact with my unconscious mind while in the non-lucid dream state), there is a thread of memory of dream state autosymbolism. My dream self is actually describing dream state autosymbolism without being lucid. This has happened many times before even in childhood dreams. An elevator is autosymbolism for the dreaming and waking process. It has nothing to do with waking life “symbolism” (as dreams are not symbolic in the conventional sense).

My last dream also reveals liminal awareness of the dream state. This is evidenced by my position on the floor. Although I usually sleep on my left side, I had this dream while briefly sleeping on my right and I was mostly on my right as my dream ended. The rest is more about distortion from lack of viable joining of unconscious and conscious self identity. I also had mild indigestion in sleep and my dream was creating a ridiculous scenario to remind me of such. The laundry soap and loose clothes were present as a reminder I am not wearing clothes when I am asleep in bed.

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Morning of June 25, 2018. Monday.



I am watching a scene of which I am not directly a part. It is an unknown house of which is being renovated by a few unknown males.

There is a slight awareness of needing to use the bathroom, but I am uncertain if a bathroom is available nearby. I am also thinking about working on some music.

A voice calls out, possibly about an unfinished kitchen or bathroom renovation, “There is nothing in there but earaches and pancakes”. I simultaneously find this both startling and clever in my semi-lucidity.

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It is typical of the preconscious to call out with random rhyming gibberish or bizarre surreal phrases near the end of a dream. This is similar to how the creative process works.

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Early evening of June 23, 2018. Saturday.



I am looking at a desert scene of which is virtually identical to the image with this entry. I sense industrial activity going on behind me, likely in a factory, though I do not turn around to verify this.

An unknown male voice calls out, “Just the back feet are shut down”. I consider what this may mean. It puzzles me when I see it as regarding human anatomy. I then consider it means “feet” as a unit of measurement even though there is no numerical value.

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As dreams, regarding their autosymbolic nature, are mainly related to the nature of the dream state and waking process rather than real life (unless prescient or literal), “back feet” is a typical distortion regarding how I was briefly and lightly sleeping on my back. I rarely sleep on my back in my normal sleep cycle. The fact that the back of my feet was the only part of my feet that was in contact with the mattress is likely the reason for this dream, though it may also have an analogy to an animal’s back feet as an indication that parts of my mind are still active in sleep. Additionally, a desert is a biological factor that usually indicates a need to drink more fluids.

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Morning of June 20, 2018. Wednesday.



I am in an unfamiliar residence of which is implied to be our present home. A few members of my family had been looking through old letters and postcards. Although I read some of them, I only recall the writing on the last postcard I read, which is a mix of printed letters and handwriting.

The message reads, “I am looking forward to that time when we will be able to determine whether or not we are in Bedlam”.

The letter B of “Bedlam” is in fancy cursive and in uppercase. It has two extra curved lines that sweep back from the top and bottom.

For some reason, I practice copying that person’s writing. I am not sure who had written or sent the postcard. Our oldest daughter seems both amused and amazed at my talent in copying the other person’s writing almost exactly. Music is playing from seemingly nowhere, of which I do not consider as being unusual.

I cheerfully say, “Do you know how hard it is to make that kind of a ‘B’?”

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It does not take much intelligence to see the dream state indicator of which is “Bed” of “Bedlam”. This is a lucid trigger that did not activate and is a reference to determining whether one is asleep in bed. (I have experienced many such dreams over the years.) Louder and clearer music “from nowhere” near the end of a dream is common. It sometimes seems analogous to the ending theme of a movie.

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Morning of June 22, 2018. Friday.

Dream #: 18,813-02. Reading time: 1 min 23 sec.



The first part of my dream presents a shopping situation in an unfamiliar store. There is significant visual detail in what I am buying, mostly food. After finishing our shopping, Zsuzsanna and I (and our children) walk along what vaguely reminds me of the King Street area in America.

Silas Weir Mitchell, the American character actor, is with us, though my dream self does not recall him as either a celebrity or a character he had played. He is an implied friend.

We approach an intersection, though it seems a challenge to continue. Snow covers an embankment though there is no awareness of winter or being cold. Where the end of the sidewalk joins the curb, one must first go up and over the embankment before crossing the street. I am pushing a shopping cart full of groceries. Silas is helping me, although he soon seems to be annoyed.

Upon going over the embankment, there is a sudden drop of about two stories, with the street far below. I look down and see that Silas has fallen with the trolley, though seems uninjured. There is annoyance at my lack of progress in getting home with our food as the groceries are now strewn on the street far below.

I soon realize it is a dream and that it is the usual vestibular system correlation of the waking process. As a result of this emergence of dream state awareness, I mentally reset it, and immediately, Silas and the shopping cart are back near me on the sidewalk, but I still decide to wake.

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In this dream, Silas is the vestibular system personification, a projected simulacrum of the waking process (which typically comes with an imaginary perception of flying, falling, or rising as a result of not fully discerning the physical body or its orientation while asleep). An intersection is autosymbolism for RAS (reticular activating system) mediation and synaptic gating, that is, the choice to wake or return to dreamless sleep (or attempt to continue the dream).

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I explain this dream type in “Dreams of Type PRECONAV-VSCPCEL, 01-15."

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Morning of June 19, 2019. Tuesday.

I do not usually post generic bathroom wake-up call dreams unless they have unique factors. This one does, as vestibular system correlation seamlessly integrates into it in the last stage of the waking process, which is atypical.

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I become aware of my need to use a bathroom when I am in public. I enter an unfamiliar public bathroom and notice it is not clean or maintained very well. There are six open toilet stalls, three facing three on opposite sides of the room. One unknown man is sitting on the toilet near the corner. I consider using the one third to the right in the same row, but I decide not to, as the seat is not very clean. I walk around contemplating what I should do as a few other unknown males come and go.

As I am standing just inside the entrance doorway, an unfamiliar short-haired boy of about twelve walks in, looks at the condition of the bathroom, and starts talking to me. I perceive him as a Communist from Eastern Europe who is probably in the region temporarily. He starts making comments about ecology and land features in the region (though I do not know where the setting is implied to be and I do not have a viable memory of my conscious self identity). I walk out with him, deciding that I will have to go home to use the bathroom.

I continue on my own and step off the sidewalk onto muddy ground. I see that I am barefoot. I am carrying my shoes, but when I put them on the ground to put my feet into them, they become very muddy, so I decide not to wear them. My feet sinking into the ground a few inches annoys me. Two unknown young males of about twenty are watching me from the sidewalk. I take a few more steps and the ground remains soft and muddy. I do not really feel like trudging through this.

Finally, I decide to fly home. I lift my arms and rise into the air effortlessly. I start flying toward another building in the distance, about twenty feet above the ground. There are a number of people walking around below. I start to consider how strange it is for so many other people not to fly to their destination, as it is more comfortable and easier than walking.

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Morning of June 18, 2018. Monday.



In the first part of my dream, which seems to take place in late morning, I look into a birdcage and see what I first think is a dead hummingbird on the bottom of the cage, one of our supposed pet hummingbirds. (We do not have any pet hummingbirds in reality.) I feel that this will upset our oldest daughter and I soon have ambiguous associations with it being a mouse. Its head is facing away from me, though also oriented somewhat to the left. Later, I talk to Zsuzsanna, as I am puzzled about where the other birds are. They are not in their birdcage and I consider they may have flown away. Are some in the same cage (even though there is a mix of quails and small parrots)?

Later, I am trying to rest in bed, which is in an unfamiliar location (though implied to be our present home). I notice, to my left, an area out from the opposite corner of the room, where there are two thin gorillas standing, one black, one chocolate-colored. The black one is on the right in my view. They are watching us. I find it odd that we have pet gorillas, especially as the gate that encloses them is only up to their waist. I become wary of having these pets and start to consider that it is a foolhardy idea. I consider talking to Zsuzsanna about it but they start talking simultaneously in unfamiliar male voices. Although it sounds like a legitimate language, it is not English or any language that seems familiar to me, which annoys me more.

I tell them to speak English. They keep talking, seeming somewhat aggressive as well as somehow condescending. I jump into their small fenced-in area and knock them down. I quickly saw their arms off, then their heads as I hold them down. I do not feel as if I am danger or liable to be hurt at any point.

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This dream had three precognitive threads, curiously enough. One of our oldest daughter’s mice did die (the first one that had ever died since she started keeping mice). I was also very surprised to see the three youngest quail in the same cage as the lovebirds, which Zsuzsanna had done temporarily, as the two older quails had now been picking on their three offspring. As for the two gorillas, we watched “Valley of the Sasquatch” tonight. I did not really plan to see this specific movie, and I did not know its content. There is a scene where one of the men cuts the arm off one of the Sasquatch.

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Morning of June 18, 2018. Monday.



I titled this dream “The Second Storm” because of it being from a literal thread of my conscious self identity in vague recall of the storm that tore our roof apart in November of last year. However, our home is rendered as the Cubitis house (where I have not lived since 1978) rather than our present home. In this dream, I become aware of the cyclone or hurricane approaching. I am not as afraid as I would be in waking life. Zsuzsanna is present. It seems to be late morning.

Mainly, I am near the doorway of my bedroom (as in Cubitis). Rather than the roof coming off this time, sections of the southwest area of the south wall, closer to the ceiling, are partially destroyed, leaving a couple irregular holes. A small pine tree is carried through the hole in the wall (though this would not be possible in reality regarding the size of the hole) and blown through my room mostly in an upright (vertical) position, in slow motion, as are a few branches from other trees. I do not think the house will be destroyed. Blue sky and white clouds can be seen through the holes rather than signs of a storm. The roof stays on. I am soon aware that the storm is over and wake shortly after this.

Morning of June 18, 2018. Monday.



In my last dream of today, I enter a short but very vivid scene. I find myself back on the second floor of the King Street mansion, with no memory of my present life other than a subtle recall of Zsuzsanna being my wife. It seems to be the middle room of the east side of the house, where I once lived in real life. Moments before, I had full memory in partial wakefulness of where I was, but this is completely lost upon my short return to sleep.

The room’s west wall is deeper into the room than the doorway, resulting in a short wall to the right of the doorway when entering the room (a fictitious feature which my dream self does not recognize as wrong). I notice an irregular hole in this wall of which is about a foot above the floor. This puzzles me. Over time, I start to realize that something inside the wall is on fire. It relates to the electricity. Smoke billows from the corner of the wall for a short time (which of course would not be possible as the bottom of the wall is solid to the floor). I sense that the wiring, farther inside from the wall’s outer surface, is on fire. I look at the hole and see it is somehow growing (though is not visibly on fire). (This does not make any sense, as is often the case with dreams. If the wiring is burning, farther back from the wall as such, how could the hole being growing larger on its own?)

The hole grows downward, elongating and curving right, and soon resembles a reverse J-shape. The hole grows bigger, with a slight sizzling sound. It does not expand outward much, but “burns” downward (yet with no sign of flames) in a line. I decide I need to turn the light off. I flick the switch off and immediately wake.

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A light switch, as with a door, is autosymbolism for reticular activating system mediation of the sleeping and waking process. Typically light, lightning, and fire are consciousness augmentation and initiating the waking process. (Even in real life, if I accidentally drop something on my foot and become suddenly more aware, I will “see lightning”.) However, since early childhood, it has also become analogous to achieving lucidity and dream state revivification through non-lucid dream control or non-lucid manipulation. (Many forms of autosymbolism of reticular activating system mediation can be used to increase lucidity and, by way of the virtuous circle effect and with countless legitimized experiences, result in an entirely different dreaming process than many people experience, including continuous non-lucid dream control where bad dreams are very rare other than when biologically premonitory). In this case, its analogy is simply turning the potential for lucidity off and waking at the same time, as I had already slept a little too long this morning. Otherwise, fire is one of my most common dream features, especially of microdreams and very short dreams. (There will usually be at least one inconsequential microdream of a small fire at the beginning of every sleep cycle, which has been the case since early childhood.)

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Some people, when not wishing to achieve conscious awareness in the dream state, or simply wanting to return to sleep, will have dreams about trying to turn the same light off repeatedly, with little or no success, or of turning off a large number of lights in the same room, resulting in the room being as lit as ever. I have experienced this myself, and ultimately, it is hilarious, despite the intense frustration of the dream self.

Morning of June 18, 2018. Monday.



Subliminal awareness of the autosymbolic nature of the waking process begins. My unconscious mind is personified as an unknown female despite the fact my non-lucid dream self does not possess viable access to my unconscious mind at this level of REM sleep. Errors and distortions abound. She is a subliminal thread of my wife Zsuzsanna, of which my non-lucid dream self does not yet possess viable memory of or contact with my current conscious self identity. She has a daughter who literally but subliminally represents our oldest daughter at a younger age.

I am sitting on the floor in a unique erroneous version of the King Street mansion. The house is mirror imaged to its real-life layout, flipped east to west. I am in the downstairs antechamber while the female mostly remains in the living room on the other side of the doorway. She seems annoyed in building a small structure on the floor in about the middle of the living room, mainly from a set of small blocks of different solid colors, mostly blue, yellow, red, and green. They are about the size of baby blocks, but with a feature on all six sides that is like the knobs of a Lego brick, though there are four knobs on each side of each cube in a two by two pattern. A couple times, as the blocks do not fit into each other, stacks of about seven high topple over. There is a row of about eight stacks at various heights. (This is autosymbolism for failure to initiate viable conscious awareness.)

I am puzzled and somewhat annoyed, though not angry, in trying to rebuild the staircase that goes to the second floor (where I had lived in real life though not been since 1990), which supposedly is to be the real staircase. This is an extreme failure of thinking skills as I am solely working with small triangular pieces of wood. The pieces are only about two inches thick. The two stacks I had made this far are only about six inches high in two rows of about eight pieces each. I cannot seem to arrange the pieces in the correct orientation regarding which edge should face upward. I have several together, but they do not display the form of a set of steps. This indicates that my subconscious self is having difficulty in reaching my conscious self identity during the waking process.

Subliminal anticipation of the waking process continues but increases. This is after the subliminal recognition of a staircase being autosymbolism for the waking process despite its miniaturization in a setting that represents the liminal space of the process, the antechamber (what my landlady called a “vestibule” in real life). Vestibular system correlation personifies, which causes my dream to jump to a new setting, though in the same King Street mansion, still mirrored east to west.

I find myself on the second floor. I develop an ambiguous awareness where I start to become partly aware of my married status and erroneously perceive the house, though vaguely, as the Stadcor Street house in Brisbane (where we have not lived in years), though that was only a one-storey house and was nothing like the King Street house. Vestibular system correlation personifies as Glenn, one of our landlords from Stadcor Street. He has never lived in America, but my dream self does not consider this error. I have a vague awareness he is married to my landlady (only vaguely recalled as Zsuzsanna at this point, but this does not trigger the realization of my erroneous associations) even though in reality he had a male partner.

A vague thread of dream state awareness is present at this point, though no threads of viable lucidity. Because of vestibular system correlation personifying as Glenn, who seems very cheerful, I walk through the doorway of the upstairs kitchen, which opens to the porch’s roof. This is from vague recall that a porch can be used to vivify a dream, as it is autosymbolic of a specific level of dream state consciousness of which I had used many times in the past, since early childhood, to vivify my dream or “step into” a more vivid offset dream. This process developed from walking outside by way of the porch’s doorway. Here though, I am somewhat puzzled from being on the roof of the porch, as there is no additional doorway to intensify my dream or trigger viable lucidity (as the option to jump off the roof to fly does not occur to me). Glenn looks up at me from the public sidewalk in front of the house.

“You’ll have to use the catwalk,” he says happily.

I get the impression he had used the so-called catwalk and jumped to the ground from the outer edge of the roof. I study the roof and see a precarious narrow section of wood that is separate from the rest of the roof, which puzzles me. I stand on it, but consider that I cannot get to the rest of the roof (which has some building materials and tools sitting about) even though all I would have to do is step onto it from this supposed catwalk. Even after fifty years, my dream self fails to remember the dream sign of a cat being a “witness” to liminal space and typically near doorways (for the purpose of inducing lucidity in some cases), though the association had been distorted into the word “catwalk” in this case. (No cat is present and my dream self does not think about cats even upon hearing “cat” as part of “catwalk”.) The association with a “cat always landing on its feet” is not present (regarding the vestibular system dynamics of the waking process, which is often a falling sensation, based solely on biology, not “meaning” as “interpreters” falsely propagate).

My dream shifts into a different scenario as a result of considering the nature of the King Street roof (still erroneously associated with the Stadcor Street house) and subliminal anticipation of the falling sensation of the waking process, which does not occur as a result of this shift. Now it is a typical non-lucidly forced “haunting” scenario. I am downstairs again, but this time the setting is an ambiguous composite of the Stadcor Street house and the Cubitis house. I am now more aware of Zsuzsanna as my wife, though it is still not a complete recognition. She still seems to serve the role as landlady.

“How long has…it…been in this house?” I ask her this dramatically, speaking of the haunting, which is mainly nonthreatening. We talk briefly, but I become distracted. I find myself in a dark room with an unknown female. There is talk about ghosts and seeing physical evidence of ghosts in this house. I tell her, “This is the only house I have ever lived in where there is the physical presence of ghosts.” On one level, I know ghosts are not real, but on another level, I have achieved non-lucid dream control and revivification at this point to entertain myself. The old writing desk that Zsuzsanna used to have is present, which results in an increase of thinking skills correlation. Near the opposite side of the desk from where the unknown female is standing, another female slowly appears. It is a ghost. “Can you see her?” I ask the female. She tells me that she cannot see anyone there.

The ghost is a realistic version, as a “real” human, of Velma Dinkley (of the Scooby-Doo franchise), though about twelve years of age. She seems puzzled and very shy and uncertain. “Who are you?” I ask her. “I’m a goddess,” she whispers. I am puzzled and ask her again about five times. Each time, she softly says, “I’m a goddess”. I want to help her come to terms with her death. (This is a vague influence of “Show Yourself” from 2016, seen just prior to sleep, where I expected Travis to hug the ghost of Paul near the end, though he did not). I hug her, place my right hand on the small of her back, and move it up to the middle of her back. As a result, the palm of my hand begins to glow with white light, rays shining into other areas of the room. (I do not recall the association with Zsuzsanna having been born on September 13, though this was exactly one year before “Scooby-Doo” first aired, therefore Velma in this case is a subliminal representation of Zsuzsanna.)

The palm of my right hand continues to glow as I find myself walking south through the Cubitis hallway. I stand in the doorway of the Cubitis southwest bedroom looking into the semidarkness. Several unfamiliar people, both men and women, are sitting on couches that are against the west and north walls. (This is an erroneous setup, as the north wall held the sliding doors of a large closet in reality.) I hold up my right hand and the light spreads into the room somewhat. The others are puzzled. I step through the doorway and wake. (This is a vague association with a security system reading a handprint to allow entry, or, in this case, to exit the dream state.)

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With this entry, I have attempted to explain the dreaming and waking process as best I could for this dream. (This is difficult in a society where most people have no viable understanding of dreams, many still believing in “interpretation” and “symbolism” in the popular sense, neither of which is real.) The bedroom is a literal thread of final recognition that I am dreaming, and so I choose to wake. The light represents attaining consciousness as a willingness to accept daybreak and intelligence of which only the conscious self possesses in waking life.

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Morning of June 15, 2018. Friday.



In my dream, I am in a mostly undefined setting of which cannot be determined to be indoors or outdoors, though it does not have the typical essence of bilocation. It seems near late morning. I am involved in adding to an ongoing model and story about a journey by sea, though the features of this model sit on the picnic table or hover in the air slightly above it when implied to be within the ocean depths. Other people seem to be present watching and listening to my narration, but I do not actually see anyone else.

The ship seems to be a schooner, sailing from left to right in my view. I talk about the dangers that might be encountered. I slowly add an unrealistic number of rocks. The model schooner is about four inches in length.

As my dream nears its end, I add more and more squid, which hover in the air (though implied to be below the ocean’s surface in this model) which are slightly bigger than the ship. A couple of them roll up (left to right) and transform into snails that continue to hover in the air in the seascape’s implied depths. I slowly become aware that I am dreaming and had been non-lucidly testing vestibular system correlation, which I have been doing more of in my dreams in the last few months. (This correlates with another recent dream with different autosymbolism based on the same dynamics, where a solid pipe became a hose, and the eardrum was represented as a hissing valve I “popped”, more related to the illusory “ears” of the dream self.)

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The majority of my dreams since early childhood have vestibular system correlation autosymbolism of several different types. (This includes flying, falling, hovering, and rising dreams, which are unrelated to waking life, despite the multitude of people who continue to propagate falsehoods about “symbolism” without understanding that dreams are autosymbolic.)

Although this could be considered an extension of the usual water induction process, there is no water present (though WLWS is implied). It additionally includes the hovering factor of vestibular system correlation as well as the visual rendering (by way of the virtuous circle effect of developing a deeper and deeper understanding of dreams and clarity of mind stemming from both lucid and non-lucid dream control).

The vestibular system correlation is represented by the transformation of squid into snail and visual analogies to the inner ear; that is, semicircular canals, vestibular nerve, and cochlea.

What little waking life relevance (always literal) is present is based on my youngest son’s friends recently to leave the region on an oceangoing yacht, where they have otherwise lived for a long time.

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Morning of June 15, 2018. Friday.



I am carrying an acoustic guitar, walking around in an unknown large room of equidistant picnic tables, similar to the break room of the factory (Northern Engraving) I worked at in the 1980s. The lighting is dim but it is clear enough to see. At first, I am mostly lazily strumming an up and down series of chord progressions that are not musically interrelated; C, D, E, D, C (in Majors). The chords are not fingered correctly even though the guitar is perceived as having the standard tuning. I mostly move my left hand, fingers all in a row, down and up the neck, leaving the second string open, which would not result in a proper sequence of chords either by fingering or by more desirable musical progressions. What I am playing would, for example, imply a C Major chord being F#, B, E, A, B, F# which is incorrect.

Danny Trejo sits with others, facing me, and watches me from another part of the room. He looks at me as if he is very annoyed by my activity. I start moving my left hand closer to the sound hole to create chords of a higher pitch, sometimes playing only the first four strings, though with the same unrelated down and up sequences of three Major chords. Eventually, it seems to sound better and takes on more of a song-like quality.

I find myself walking near another group of tables and playing both rhythms and melodies. There is a fuller sound, but of which would not be possible in real life, as the melodies and rhythms are simultaneous. A girl unknown to my dream self (though meant to be a rendering of Lucille Starr as in 1965) is soon walking to my right, having stood up from a nearby picnic table. She starts singing very harmoniously in French. (“Quand le Soleil Dit Bonjour aux Montagnes” / “When the Sun Says ‘Good Day’ to the Mountains”.) I continue to walk around playing intriguing melodic patterns as the singing continues, until my dream fades.

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Autosymbolic threads of the dreaming and waking process: Other than the transformation of the preconscious personification in the waking transition (by way of non-lucid dream control) to the emergent consciousness factor as Lucille Starr (who represented my subliminal memory of Zsuzsanna as I woke), most of this dream is based on literal factors and literally focused awareness (rather than the typical autosymbolic focused awareness).

Literal threads of dreaming and waking process (dream state indicators): The song itself (“When the Sun Says 'Good Day’ to the Mountains” as a waking process reference and “Je suis seul avec mes reves sur la montagne”, sang in English as “I’m alone with my dreams on the hilltop”.)

Non-lucid dream control evidenced by: Transformation of the preconscious waking autosymbolism from Danny Trejo being annoyed to Lucille Starr singing joyfully on my right. (Waking orientation is typically autosymbolically rendered as to my right as I sleep on my left side, which is less exposed to the real environment.)

Present real-life-related literal threads: I follow Danny Trejo on Twitter but we do not post to each other. I am joyful in being married and with a loving family for over twenty years.

Past real-life-related literal threads: I produce music, but I do not play acoustic guitar as much as when I was younger. The Lucille Starr song was one shared between Zsuzsanna and me before we met (as well as being a song from my childhood) and is very nostalgic for me. She sent a copy to me on cassette.

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Abridged and simplified on Friday, 15 June 2018. I offer thanks to the casual reader for their time and interest.

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Morning of June 14, 2018. Thursday.



My current conscious self identity is mostly stripped away and my dream self is cast back into the front yard of my Cubitis home (where I have not lived since 1978). However, the thread of awareness of having Zsuzsanna as my wife is present to a degree and I otherwise feel as myself in terms of age. I can assume that this is meant to be our home in this dream. Semi-darkness might indicate it is night, but the perception of time is mostly ambiguous and not clearly defined as in many other dreams.

Precursory preconscious factors kick in, this time rendered as two boys that are mischievously trespassing on our front yard. I am closer to the highway at one point. When I go closer to them, I see they are messing around with two long pipes. I am not certain where the pipes came from.

I decide to use one of the pipes as a weapon even though it is about six feet in length. I want to knock them about and make them go out from our front yard. I miss several times, but also strike them on the sides now and then. Eventually, it seems as if they were never there.

I find myself in an unfamiliar area that is implied to be our home, but the room is completely unfamiliar. It seems to be a bathroom. The solid pipe I am holding transforms into a hose and the end of it jumps onto the small metal wheel, as if due to a powerful magnetic force, of a white porcelain bathtub that is on its side. The bathtub is on its left side and facing me. The wheel the hose is stuck to is at the upper left in my view. Zsuzsanna is present. It seems a part of the wall fell off to reveal a hidden storage area, where the old bathtub is on the bottom shelf of two large shelves. The bathtub likely belonged to a previous resident. I notice patches of black dirt here and there. There are other items stored inside this section of wall (which seems to divide the room near the middle) that we had apparently not known about.

I pull on the hose several times (from the other side of the room) to get it off, but it holds firmly. Finally, I go closer and see it has fully attached in the manner of some sort of valve. I press and pull on a thin, circular piece partly inside a pipe near the wheel of the bathtub after partly pulling off part of the edge of the hose as something gives as air hisses out. I feel the rest of the end of the hose release and come off. Apparently, even though the event seemed magnetic at first, it now seems to have been the result of automatic suction, purposely developed for special parts to somehow automatically connect as such.

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