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    Blue_Opossum

    1. An Unusual Journey

      by , 08-23-2020 at 10:57 AM
      Morning of August 23, 2020. Sunday.

      Dream #: 19,606-03. Reading time: 2 min 42 sec.



      There were more kinaesthetic and somatosensory events in this dream than usual. The processes sustained my dreaming experience but resulted in an exaggerated and prolonged sensory focus that was predominant in the unusual narrative.

      In the first part, my instinctual awareness I am sleeping results in the opening scene being in an unknown bedroom. My conscious self identity mostly remains present throughout my dream. Zsuzsanna and I are going on a trip to another part of town (fictitious location). We are sharing an apartment with an unknown woman. I have to get dressed, but it is too difficult. My pants will not go up over my hips. I am annoyed by the irritating sensations. (This sometimes happens when I sleep with a heavy blanket.) Even so, the scenario eventually changes, and Zsuzsanna and I are walking along a dirt road.

      There is an exhibition in an unfamiliar region. Zsuzsanna introduces me to an unknown male named Chris. She supposedly knew him when she was younger and living in Nimbin (though that is impossible, as he is only about twenty years old). An unknown man takes a picture of Zsuzsanna, saying how beautiful she is and acting as if she is on her own and available. I take his camera and smash it, noticing that there is a roll of film inside with images of people. I am unsure if he will still be able to develop it, but I mangle the camera as much as possible and throw it on the floor. (This situation was influenced by a scene from “King Kong” I had seen a small part of last night. It is the scene where Carl discovers his destroyed camera. The only difference is that, in my dream, I could see transparent individual images in the film.)

      Somatosensory dynamics cause me to focus on my hands. I have a silver ring that used to be tight on my finger, but now it is far too big to stay on it. I move it around over my finger and tell others about the situation. It seems I am shrinking, or at least my hand is.

      Zsuzsanna and I are going to leave. I start to walk down a staircase on my own and (as is typical in dreams) imaginary kinaesthesia becomes predominant. The steps are individual stacked storage boxes, and some below me fall to the ground as I remain on the higher section. Other people cannot get down either. I consider that some people below can put the steps back, but they walk off. A woman at a counter in the building tells me I can turn and go to another area. I teleport to the back of the building by going under the large gap in the lower section. There are many people around. I soon teleport back and jump to the ground. I tell the woman at the counter (from outside the entrance, though the setting is ambiguous) that the staircase is illegal (because of being unsafe for the public). She cheerfully tells me that she knows it is obviously against the law but that it is only a temporary setup for the exhibition.

      Zsuzsanna and I and our youngest daughter are walking home. An enormous vehicle approaches from the opposite direction, and we go to the side of the street. However, the machine is so big it is over most of the area. The bottom of the long truck is over ten feet above us. It seems to be a street-building and maintenance device that pours the asphalt as it travels as well as smooths out the surface and performs other tasks. The driver is aware of us at one point and swerves slightly, but we still cannot get past and cannot continue safely either. There is a high-set chain-link fence on our left that prevents us from going another way. Despite the gigantic size of the vehicle, I push on its wheels and slide it away from us as if it weighed hardly anything (though I am aware of some weight and momentum).


    2. The Rain

      by , 08-10-2020 at 11:38 AM
      Morning of August 10, 2020. Monday.

      Dream #: 19,593-02. Reading time: 2 min 50 sec.



      While comfortably re-entering light sleep by choice, I summon my favorite scene - a light rain in an urban neighborhood. It is in the late morning. As I float into the extraordinarily vivid setting, flying slowly about four feet above the street, I choose to remain incorporeal, without summoning and integrating imaginary physicality. Even so, imaginary kinaesthesia becomes a factor of my navigation through the fictitious environment. I indulge in the astounding detail and beauty of raindrops falling into puddles.

      Eventually, there is an incidental recall that Zsuzsanna and I had briefly discussed the Netflix series “The Rain” last night while scrolling through the content. (We had only seen the first episode weeks ago.) Two people (implied to be from the series) walk into the previously unpopulated setting, strolling off to my left, eventually no longer in view. I consider whether my dream will amalgamate the backstory of the series in implying the rain is dangerous.

      American actor Jack Albertson (June 16, 1907-November 25, 1981) is lying on his left side on the ground (concurrent with my sleeping position). He is inside a fenced area not much longer than his height, the top of his head directed to the sidewalk. The fenced area is otherwise for either recyclables or junk from the adjacent service station. I wonder if sleeping in the rain will be problematic for him during my distracted association with “The Rain.” His eyes roll up with his visage like Elise Rainier’s from “Insidious: The Last Key” Zsuzsanna and I watched last night.

      Soon, the young Elise Rainier forms from droplets of rain flowing over a tree and hovers in the air about three feet from the sidewalk (typical reinduction as the Naiad factor common since childhood) and vocalizes the melody (with only tenuto “oo” sounds) of Jim Reeve’s “The Blizzard.” (My dream self does not make the association with that song or its implications during my dream.) This factor stabilizes the original peaceful essence of the dream state.

      Even so, after about fifteen minutes, cerebral nuances begin to activate wakefulness, resulting in text of various colors appearing on the street in paint and chalk. (Despite the rain, it does not wash away.) I float over an area where the word “leveling” features in white paint. I focus more on my usual seeking of text in this mode, but nothing relevant is in my view after this. I see what I first think might be a word, but it transforms into a series (about five of them) of the letter “i.” I see the character “o” in a set of three. Probably every letter of the English alphabet, in various colors, features at varying angles to each other on the street’s surface.



      Notes on this dream’s no-brainer causality:

      The essence of water (both summoned and spontaneous) begins the majority of my dreaming experiences in this mode as virtual melatonin. The Naiad factor is the pineal gland personification but also has mystical implications with the so-called third eye (as well as the Eye of Providence).

      Note the incidental play on “Elise Rainier” as “release rain” (“produce more melatonin to sustain my dream”).

      “Leveling” is concurrent with the transition from the imaginary kinaesthesia of floating into legitimate physicality without myoclonus. (There is probably an association of the balance between serotonin and melatonin).

      Jack Albertson’s role as this dream’s sleep simulacrum ties with several threads of dream state causality. Firstly, he remains in bed in the first scenes of “Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory.”

      Secondly, that association was recalled from me posting an image of Willie Talk (a ventriloquist dummy) on Twitter yesterday, a doll being the signification of the absence of mental and physical viability while sleeping.

      Thirdly, his visage is as Elise Rainier’s in a trance (yet another play on sleeping and dreaming).

      Fourthly, the fenced area signifies both the virtual division between dream space and the threshold of wakefulness and, in this case, is also indicative of how the physical body is restricted in its movement while sleeping.



      Everything in this dream stems from the same causation factors as the tens of thousands of other dreaming experiences I have studied and resolved daily for over 50 years. Even so, the uniqueness each time is surprisingly admirable.


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