Blue_Opossum

Night of September 1, 2018. Saturday.

Dream #: 18,884-08. Reading time: 48 sec.



I enter a light sleep, with the flu. I am sitting on our couch in reality. I hear knocking (three knocks each time) in two areas of my head over time. I remain aware of my liminal state.

I am vaguely aware of the virtual division between the dream state and wakefulness, which forms as a sash window with no curtains. I am uncertain of the location. The room is mostly featureless. I get the impression of daylight through the window.

I think about vestibular system correlation (and imaginary proprioception) and its role in waking starts. I sense preconscious activity and see Mary Poppins cheerfully looking in through the window. As I remain uncertain if I am on the first or second (or higher) floor, I do not know if she is hovering or standing.

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Vestibular personification is often associated with flight (when the discernment of my physical body is inviable or ambiguous). The instinctual anticipation of vestibular system correlation comes before the personification of it. In this case, I am aware of the process, though not deliberately creating the simulacrum’s identity.

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The relevance is that Zsuzsanna and I lived in Maryborough when we first met, where the author of “Mary Poppins” was born.

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Morning of September 1, 2018. Saturday.

Dream #: 18,884-02. Reading time: 54 sec.

I seem to be only 14 years old. I am in the Cubitis living room on the couch (lengthwise against the north wall, where it never was in reality, as it would have blocked a door). I sense it is Saturday morning. An unknown male is present. I do not see him as an intruder.

I missed at least a day of school, so I need to write an excuse. It has to involve something dangerous. The only idea I have is that an octopus attacked me, so I am recovering. Along with explanatory notes, I need to provide physical evidence.

I have two long yucca roots. I think they might provide evidence as octopus tentacles, but it does not seem feasible. I think about mentally willing them to become meat, but it does not seem to work.

Eventually, I do not think my plan will work. I remain concerned about not finishing the report on time. I start to worry about validly explaining my absence. The roots are white as I wake.

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Which valid threads are extant in a dream and which are not has always fascinated me. I am aware it is a Saturday morning and that I am sleeping on my left side on a couch, yet I have no memory of my current conscious adult self or of where I am living or what country.

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