Blue_Opossum

Morning of December 19, 2014. Friday.



Firstly, I am in some sort of group of mostly unknown males (not relevant to real life). There are two rows of perhaps seven or eight facing each other. It seems to be on King Street, though the front (northeast) apartment is much bigger. I seem to become angry and punch most of them extremely hard. This seems to at least partly be because each and every one of them is being condescending to each and every other, sounding more and more ridiculous, like a perpetual comic strip but with no comedic elements.

After seemingly several minutes of this, I become slightly lucid (becoming more lucid over time). I have an awareness of an affirmation set and decide that instead of eliminating these people, I will heal them (including “fixing” their brain by bringing it into its most natural resonance somehow). I vaguely sense a “correct” oscillation and harmonic resonance inside their heads when I put my hand on the top of their heads and eventually place my hands on all of their heads. The effect is similar to feeling the vibrations when placing your hand on the body of an acoustic guitar when a chord is played.

I heal their wounds and cuts as well. However, because I reach an apparent overly energetic stage which is supposedly “too powerful” to use directly (with my palms, for example - where the energy seems to emanate from), I need only lightly touch them with the back of my hand to restore them to their healthiest state - otherwise my power may cause them to “disintegrate”. I do not recall this event being like this in past dreams, as I formerly used my fingers and palms.

From here, I walk out with a few (unknown) people. The porch roof is extended out more over the front yard than in reality (almost like a large lower awning) which seems frustrating relative to being able to fly out and up as soon as I want. As lucidity is dawning on me a bit stronger, I decide to fly out into the world. As I fly swiftly and efficiently, even deliberately over a longer sequence of telephone lines and power lines (which seem somewhat out of place and randomly going at an angle from the buildings and sidewalks), I notice how incredibly clear and visually defined my dream’s environment is. It is so well-rendered, I am amazed to a nearly breath-taking pleasure on the imagery alone; even more so, because it does not seem reminiscent of a real location. It seems to be near an industrial area of whatever town it is now meant to be. I notice a few buildings, a forest in the distance, and a few parked vehicles here and there, including a semi near a warehouse.



I feel fantastic as I look down and about over the scenery. At one point, I see a pile with old books and magazines, but mostly atop a taller pile of just debris, at the end of an alley, which appears to be a public dumping area. The pile is almost as high as the two-storey possibly abandoned commercial buildings on each side. I land near the top of the pile and pick up what seems to be an old “Alvin and the Chipmunks” comic book (it may be an association with an old instrumental my father wrote and performed as well as the name of where we lived at one time in Chipmunk Coulee). There are three bats on the cover (which may be related to a short-term comic strip I did as a boy about three “rock star” bats in the early 70s based on an earlier recurring dream). I tell myself that because I know I am dreaming, I may be able to actually read the entire book. However, I mostly only seem to focus on one odd phrase, which is “Poly Calep” and seeing that distracts me from my plan to read the whole comic. Perhaps this is a name of one of the characters.

From here, I am still aware of the people that had been at the meeting walking around not that far from where I am. However, I decide to enjoy more flying. I am able to again maneuver just slightly above power lines for a fair distance (which used to be problematic in dreams in my youth) without getting tangled. Oddly though, the power lines go up at an angle the farther I fly, but I still directly remain parallel to them the entire distance.

From here, I find myself back at North Monroe Street, which is usually rare to dream of. I have not been there since early 1968. I notice a few people standing around near the outer hall to the west, where my older brother Earl lived at one time. I go with my wife (who had apparently been standing in the hall) into the apartment, which seems larger and much longer to the east. Of course, I plan on having a nice romantic interlude to see what can physically occur. At this point, my dream is almost entirely under my conscious influence in every way other than the “extra people” that annoy me somewhat (which is typical of this type of lucid dream until apex lucidity is reached). We walk past three bedrooms where I can see a person’s feet sticking out from under a sheet on each bed. As we continue to walk, a male relative (Kevin M) ends up following us as well. Just as my wife and I are able to get into a bathtub (which is perpendicular to the direction we are walking), which is already full of nice cool water, he is still behind us. However, as my wife and I begin to sit down in the water (already suddenly unclothed by mental will alone), I slam the mostly opaque bathtub’s sliding door (much like the setup from King Street) so that we are then isolated from all public perspectives. (I suppose that he could have technically still opened the sliding door, but this does not really occur to me at any level of thought so does not happen.)

I am on my back and my wife sits on me in the cool water. The pleasure is quite augmented; a very clear sense of wetness and warmth (against the refreshing coolness of the water) and enhanced physical pleasure as well as spiritual unity and oneness. The only unusual distortion is that Zsuzsanna has tiny curly black hairs that create a narrower curved line going up and around her hips and back up towards her abdomen, somewhat like a doubled mirror-imaged harp design.