Blue_Opossum

Morning of October 6, 2017. Friday.



Something has happened to my physical form, but possibly only as I am “sleeping”.

I think of myself as a paragraph of writing, in the form of a hazy cloud of about four feet long, hovering a few inches above our bed. Being a paragraph incarnate makes me feel somewhat vulnerable. I am aware of Zsuzsanna sleeping om my left, but my viewpoint is curiously from somewhere in the center of our bed at times.

Other than being only a hazy cluster of “words” hovering a short distance above our bed, there is a perception of having an additional “shell” at times, or some sort of armor, but which comes and goes. There is no viable perception of having a physical body. I vaguely remember an affirmation (“I am of the healing powers of Universal Mind”) but I do not fully grasp or sustain it.

I turn in my “sleep”. It is like a twisting that “rolls” from “head” to “foot” when I do. It occurs about four times. I am aware that having transformed into the form of a paragraph relates to my illness (food poisoning). I only feel slightly ill in the dream state.

Before I am fully awake, I start to realize aspects of this abstract dream’s source. It is quite old and it has been years since this memory was more present. Years ago, in an animated version (shown on television a few times) of “A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court”, there was a scene where a boy informed the main character that he was a page. The Connecticut Yankee responded by saying something like “A page? You’re no more than a paragraph.” Additionally, having the “armor” around my cloudy form relates to the (King Arthur) knight association with the story. The perceived “suit of armor” is obviously a biological symbol of wishing to be protected from the norovirus. The rest, including “being a paragraph”, is incidental to this association with the Mark Twain story, which I had not thought about for a long time.

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Since early childhood, my non-lucid dreams, other than prescient or precognitive threads, have often resolved themselves in meaning in a form of light hypnopompic thinking (as well as reveal source patterns that created my dream in the first place), which is often carried directly into conscious afterthought (although this process is occasionally “replaced” by a false awakening where I am writing down my dream or talking about it with someone else). In a way, this has always been like having two dreams in succession, the original dream (often surreal or at least unusual and illogical) and the decoding of its meaning while waking or in a different (much lighter) level of unconsciousness. (It was not until I was about seventeen years old that I started to come to terms with the fact that most people were apparently not like this.)

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