Blue_Opossum

Morning of June 13, 2006. Tuesday.



I am riding in a van. An unknown younger male is driving on the left side (thus possibly implying more of an association with America). I am in back with my wife Zsuzsanna and a few others, mostly unknown. There is a very strange landscape in the region. It is almost like being on another planet or moving over a landscape filled with giant gemstones and jewels. In the distance are huge structures made of some sort of crystal, jutting from the otherwise seemingly barren ground at odd angles. I do not see anything organic; no plants or trees or grass.

The driver seems to be having difficulty in maneuvering over the bumps and uneven landscape, though no mishaps occur. The region is beautiful but I have no idea where we are. It does not seem like it is occurring on Earth but possibly another dimension. I am not sure if we ended up here accidentally but it almost seems like it. However, it also almost seems like a representation of area in New York where 9-11 occurred. That idea is only in the back of my mind, though. (It may be associated with the “lands” or supposed other worlds or pocket universes in Harvey comic books that a main character found themselves in.) It does seem that it will be possible to live or stay overnight inside one of the diamond-like “buildings” if that is what is planned by whatever group leader is in charge of the seeming tour. The nearest “building”, made of irregular diamonds, is still a considerable distance ahead.

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Morning of April 9, 2006. Sunday.



How wrong can a partly scripted and incubated lucid dream go of indulging in lovemaking while in a flying chariot (pulled by bronze winged horses) above an endlessly continuing large city? Well…guess. Try it, and you will probably see what I mean.

My wife Zsuzsanna as Vulnavia and I are in a partly undefined area. This area of course starts out as the bed in light sleep paralysis but has motion and movement over time into a cityscape. Regardless of the recent romance in reality (which automatically triggers this form of light sleep paralysis and blissful lucid dreaming in the first place), that only makes my dream’s essence more soothing and “realistic”. Well…make that in some ways.

I look ahead at the “realistic” rendering. At times, other than the regular team, I see a few stray horses at quite a distance ahead, yet somehow I know they are still pulling our chariot (which I seem to know has the Roman numeral for six on the side; VI). (For some reason, this scene of a horse being way ahead of our vehicle yet still guiding it somehow, has occurred a few times though in different context. Added August 11, 2015; for example “A stolen candy bar wrapper and a girl with golden skin” from May 15, 2014, which also ended with a play on “golden calves” and as with that later dream, I am concerned about “how we will make the corner properly” at one point, though relating to the tops of buildings in this case.)

There is a strange physical awareness that the chariot cannot maintain horizontal orientation, though that is more of a benefit in this scenario than a distraction. There are transitions in setting between bed and chariot, a bit like typical in-dream environmental bilocation. Mouths press together sensually and at times, there is a sense of slight vertigo at being so high in the sky. I have to check the horses now and then to make sure they know where they are going. A large flock of birds disrupts our otherwise smooth flight and wild lovemaking at one point. Well, I suppose that was almost a certainty.

After a time, in getting closer to clock towers and whatnot, I accidentally perceive the notion of supposedly linear time and how to “properly” perceive time. Of course, in dreams, that can be an attention-altering mistake.

We are still having fun. “Oh what fun it is to ride in a one-horse open sleigh.”

(Who said that?)

Of course, a chariot and a sleigh are two completely different things (try telling your dream-self that). Unfortunately, the power and speed of self-as-dream-maker thought simply does not care. Thought does not wait to check itself for logic or run self-diagnostics (other than in apex lucidity I suppose, but this is a level down from there).

Thus we are now making love in a bed on a raised platform under a candy cane canopy in a Christmas display (in April, yet) - Gimbels I think (though not extant in reality). I am concerned about visitors though there is only one male who vaguely reminds me of Phil Silvers, but I know many more people are going to be coming in soon. My wife is up and out and in Vulnavia’s white fur outfit.

“Have you seen Santa?” he asks. Oh, how stupid. I have to remain under the sheets, completely undressed, as I cover my head as much as possible. I feel him tugging on the sheet near my feet and lower legs. It is very clear. “Santa? Santa? Come out of there Santa.” I need to teleport back to our “real” bed and I do. (Apparently, Zsuzsanna had been lightly caressing my leg with her foot in reality in her half-sleep.)

Update August 11, 2015. I just realized that “Phil Silvers” is possibly a play on “Feel Shivers”.

Morning of December 14, 2005. Wednesday.

Dream #: 14,240-02. Reading time (optimized): 1 min 30 sec.



My dream’s setting is an imaginary variation of our Duffy Street apartment in Millbank. My waking-life identity is mostly intact.

After I open a fictitious door in our kitchen (a door that would, if it existed, lead to our bedroom), I fall into the repetitive activity of opening one door after another. In some instances, I walk through a tiny room with another door on the opposite side. Often, each doorway is so close to the previous there is no additional room, only another door.

Eventually, I find myself back in our kitchen. There is a coffin standing on its bottom end near where our bathroom entrance would be in waking life. However, it has the essence of a door into another room, and I feel I should open it.

I open the “door” (coffin lid), but instead of another room, it is a display of stars and nebulae as if I am looking into outer space. There is a feeling of bliss while I am waking.

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Decoding:

There are two reasons why I would open a door in a dream; one, to exit the dream state and wake myself; two, to vivify or reinduce the dream state.

The first door, had it existed in waking life, would have led to our bedroom. The coffin “door,” had it existed, would have led to our bathroom. These factors show I was instinctually contemplating whether to remain asleep or wake to use the bathroom.

Both the coffin and the view of outer space in this instance are a result of the same degree of sleep atonia, which was also why it took longer to wake myself by repeatedly opening doors.

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Influence:

“The Manitou” from 1978 is a subliminal influence. The door to Karen’s hospital room led into outer space, where her bed was floating. Her battle with Misquamacus included her directing a beam of light at him.

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Influence’s decoding: Although my dream’s final “door” (correlation with our bathroom in waking life) led to outer space, I was still asleep in bed.

Subliminal influence (not rendered): In the movie, Karen emanated and directed lightning from around her body (while in her bed in outer space). Lightning in a dream typically represents the instinctual anticipation of the cortical energy required for achieving consciousness.

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Morning of August 12, 2005. Friday.



They are remaking the Disney movie “The Shaggy D.A.” and I am to hold the starring role. It seems like a genuine moneymaking endeavor at first.

Instead, it becomes a session in experiencing loss. In my role as a dog in the studio and various takes, I seemingly become more isolated and out of touch with who I was meant to be (relative to my waking life, though I am not lucid). My wife is present but I still feel I am not where I should be since I must be “perfect” in my role for the movie and not be myself at all. She stands with her hands together and is not part of the filming scenario. Pretending to be a dog (and sometimes actually seeming to be a dog) in my role is amusing at first and I even pretend to be a disobedient dog and wreck some of the sets and require a larger number of takes to get a scene right. I also get annoyed with having to hold a large piece of white wool carpeting over my head at times, which cuts down on my ability to maneuver and sometimes blocks my vision.

The producers become frustrated with me yet I am not fired. When I discover someone else plays me as a human, I become myself again and punch them in the face numerous times. I do not think the movie will be completed…

Morning of October 25, 2004. Monday.



I am on some sort of outing that may relate to shopping but it is a bit uncertain. A couple of the buildings are too narrow to be significant of very much realism though I do not become lucid at any point, and there actually are buildings this narrow, apparently (though I have never seen such in real life). This may be a play on my association with dealing with “narrow-minded” people throughout most of my life.

The only other features in my dream are related to clocks and pianos, with the emphasis on pianos. There is something “wrong” about the mostly upright pianos in the three buildings I explore though I cannot determine what it is. I am not sure if I am actually going to buy one (and I am not sure how I would get it home either, or even if I have any money - I may have only about twenty dollars in my wallet). It may be that the pianos do not have “guts” (all the internal parts as in real life) so thus are mostly hollow. This is possibly related to “fake” electronic organs where instead of a larger amplifier at the front, it is a rather small cheap speaker hidden behind the cloth covering the larger stand where there would otherwise be a bigger speaker and more circuits. (At one time, in the mid-1970s, these were about one-tenth the price of a real electronic chord organ - or about a hundred dollars in comparison to a thousand or more).



Some of the upright pianos (there are no electric pianos in the stores) seem more like an atypical hybrid and resemble a miniature version of a grand piano but not as long front to back. The thing is to find the type that opossums live in rather than rats. A single opossum (usually just lounging in one) would be in a good one (to buy) though four rats (running around randomly inside as a person plays) would live in ones that do not play so well (going out-of-tune more quickly as well as having “loose” keys). This could be a play on “rat race” or even the “rat race being out of tune”. Then again, the whole region seems empty of both people and animals, even birds. I am not even sure why the clocks are necessary, especially more than one, or perhaps each piano comes with a “matching” wall clock. As no one else is around, it dawns on me that there is not much point in even shopping there. The entire business district seems closed.

Morning of October 24, 2004. Sunday.



This was a fairly long dream, of which I have had many of this general plot all my life concerning isolated areas that are “still” prehistoric.

I somehow end up in a “prehistoric world” (actually a fairly limited area within the normal world that is just very isolated and apparently “hidden” somehow), just by going underground or via an old basement and then going through a tunnel or different exit than usual. It is a prehistoric jungle - yet has some areas that are modern in terms of plant life in addition to the the fact that there are a couple seemingly abandoned buildings around. There is only a smaller area where it is completely prehistoric, although it seems difficult to find a way out of.

I am not as wary in this dream as others of this type (some “fear” even seems insincere - instigated by my own forced perspective). I spend time inside the building on the first and second floors looking out for dinosaurs from different directions. The building was possibly a large school or office building at one time (perhaps associated with my elementary school or high school buildings). It also vaguely reminds me of a house we looked at in Brisbane when we were looking for a new place to live. The first floor is about sixteen feet high (sixteen feet being a recurring in-dream height reference since earliest memory), floor to ceiling. The building is made out of concrete blocks.

I am very hungry and apparently had not eaten for a few days, and I somehow catch a reptile-like bird like a smaller pterodactyl on a stick with a hook. It makes a sound similar to a bat and is mostly orange, yellow, and green. After awhile, a tyrannosaurus must hear the “food” (and perhaps smell it) because it comes near the building. It smashes a small window above me but I am not all that concerned until I notice one area where the building is now “open” floor to ceiling (as if the layout had just changed) and sure enough, the tyrannosaurus can simply walk in. The dinosaur is not that big; only about twelve feet tall perhaps, and could walk around without bumping the ceiling. I warily feed the bird to the dinosaur (as it is still on the end of the stick) and run to a safer area where I can close a smaller door. There are a few hallways in that part of the building. I am then on the second floor and look out where there are many smaller tree branches sticking through certain windows. There are only a few moments when I am afraid. Again, as odd as it sounds, in many dreams of this nature, I have a strong sense of bringing this fear into myself on purpose to make my dream more interesting or movie-like. In fact, there are many dreams like this where I almost force the fear or fearful thing to come in so I can experience it, though other people do not seem to have (or at least admit to) this in-dream awareness. However, it is something I must comment on since it seems a main aspect of my dream-life, especially when young. (There have actually been dreams where I got more and more frustrated when a dinosaur or other “monster” did not appear right away, yet these were not lucid dreams.)

Later on, a family and another group with them, crash into this prehistoric place in an airplane, although no one is hurt at all, or maybe they just landed normally (yet there is still an idea of an airplane crash as in the Tarzan origin). Even though I can understand what they are saying (as they are all speaking English) I speak only a very odd “caveman” language that is like a strange cross between Arabic and Swedish. I get along well with all of them and at one point, am romantic with an “unknown” girl who likes me (seemingly a younger version of my wife) - touching her hair, and so on, sort of like in those old Tarzan movies.

None of the other people (including my “wife’s father" – he reminds me of an older actor I cannot quite remember) seem based on any people I have ever seen or heard of in real life. Oddly, I also have longer dirty blonde hair in my dream but in real life, have very dark hair. I am also much younger in my dream.

There is also a point at which I seem to learn English fairly fast by telepathy (even though this seems like a pretense, as I already understood their conversations). I take some cereal (about three pieces of puffed rice) from one bowl and put it in another bowl (while doing some head pointing to the others’ heads and my own) to manually display the idea of telepathy, which another man understands and tells the one I am showing this to, at a table. So, by telepathy, I learn “their” language faster (again, even though I already know it). I guess this is all because I do not really like modern mainstream culture, and want to be set apart from it, especially in dreams, which seems the basis for this scenario.

There is more dinosaur activity later on, and some hiding out, but no real fear. By walking in a certain direction now (a major in-dream situational change), we can just leave at any time, anyway. I wake as we start out on what seems like an old dirt road where cars had been recently.

Again, I have had similar dreams like this all my life, even as a young child. The logic is slightly different, as my adult dreams of this nature usually do not have a large dinosaur appearing inside of a building when the doorways are normal size (although in this one, it is suddenly open).

Looking back, the main idea of this dream does seem to be similar to "Tarzan” in that these people come to “rescue” me after knowing of the legend, perhaps for the money, or for friendship, or in the case of my wife for our (re)marriage.

Morning of August 28, 2004. Saturday.



Some friends and I walk through different, unfamiliar areas of our neighborhood and solely by doing that, we eventually end up in the very distant future (common dream scenario for me). At first, we need to climb over hills of dark sand (reminding me of those near industrial areas I have been to in real life), and it is fun climbing and sliding down (a recurring dream scene when much younger), although there are also climbs on rocky mountains and cliffs impossibly high from ground level, though there is no fear. In this future we find that only a few people are left on the entire planet, and most of them are older cleaning ladies and dock hands who only live on smaller islands or near the sea and who are somehow slowly remaking and “fixing” the world that was destroyed. We are near the ocean and almost all the humpback whales that are still extant are sick and too close to shore. It is so bad, you can see old laundry suds and chemical sludge spray from them and tons of junk in the water (I do recognize the irony that “cleaning” ladies use detergents and chemicals that may harm the environment).

After awhile, a recurring dream ability of mine is focused upon. I move my hand in line with old, collapsed buildings and they become new; the chipped paint becomes a fresh, but dry coat. Splintered, rotting wood rejoins as fresh timber. A fallen bridge rebuilds itself so that we are able to walk to different cities to fix things up more quickly. The old boards actually come up from the polluted ocean to remake the bridge; and nails arise, lose their rust like dust falling off, several in a perfect line hitting the wood like bullets and remaking the bridge perfectly (even better than it ever was), moving toward land in each direction at the same time. It is known that the whales will also heal after awhile, and the suds begin to lower.

Seemingly integrated into a “reset” of aspects of my above dream was the subject of an ancient and extremely valuable semitransparent oval stone with a darker stone visible inside, found near a beach, I believe, though there is also some sort of vague scene involving a hidden panel in the wall at Loomis Street, accessed by moving a light switch a certain way. The darker stone inside, over time, slowly becomes a multicolored “alien” baby (of mostly dark brown, olive, and orange tones), the bright, wise eyes appearing first (after the hint of eyelids which eventually open), then the rest, but in clearly defined steps. This creature (possibly remaining within the stone as it develops further - its adult stage is not known) will also generate as well as give great power to heal this futuristic world as well as help my family, friends, and I. At this point, our travels seem to relate to an additional quest of some kind.

There is also an area near a seemingly long-abandoned park with bizarre ancient trees (that apparently serve as little houses in some cases) and “impossible” but natural structures that seem not of this world, yet (in my dream) I have a very clear but faux memory of my friends and I having played there often as children, so that it actually feels quite nostalgic and like a real memory. This is likely due to buried thoughts concerning the very large and highly unusual banyan tree that was in the playground in reality.

Morning of December 18, 2003. Thursday.



In my dream, I need to get to the other side of town (related to a forgotten back story), that being the north side of La Crosse (though I am living in Australia at the time in my dream as well, thus I quickly got from my home in Australia to La Crosse somehow - without giving it any logical thought). It is getting a bit cooler (which it would be in La Crosse, though there is not much snow and I do not feel freezing cold). I find myself going fairly fast and I realize that I am going down the middle of the street on a wheeled office chair. I get to an intersection and do not see any cars from any direction (at least closer), and I continue to move forward with a vague concern about oncoming traffic. This area was an incline (as I am headed downwards to the east) so did not quite need as much footwork and do not need any “brakes”, which is somewhat of both a concern and a relief at different times, as I am not sure if I can stop the chair in every instance. I feel a bit strange “driving” a wheeled office chair (which is the same one I sat on in real life at my computer desk on Stadcor Street) through a busier area of town and wonder if I should be riding a bicycle instead. Somehow, riding a bicycle seems just a bit stranger (in my dream only) than riding my wheeled office chair, which I think is partly because a bicycle can just fall over (kickstands not always working correctly) and would have to be leaned against something after getting off (which seems far more of a concern in my dream than it would be in reality). I lose speed here and there at times, which is a bit annoying, but the environment is quite vivid and correctly detailed. I feel fairly good otherwise. My dream has a very well-rendered sense of open space and movement. There is a bit of traffic, but not that much.

Morning of September 13, 2003. Saturday.



It is Zsuzsanna’s birthday and I am buying her red roses and white lilies with rolls of American quarters. (This is illogical as it should be Australian coins.)

While at the checkout (where at least one unfamiliar female cashier is present), I am somewhat absentminded and I am not certain which coins on the counter have already been given to the cashier (personified preconscious) and which are still mine to use.

I check to see if I have dropped any quarters and I notice I am barefoot. I think about mentally willing my shoes to appear, which works for a short time. (I am only subliminally lucid, otherwise unaware I am dreaming, yet taking my will to manifest for granted. This is more likely to occur at a certain level of liminal space as there are a number of different levels of unconsciousness and dream state perception.)

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Being barefoot in a dream is usually just a subliminal carryover memory of having fallen asleep (as I do not wear shoes or socks to bed). Just because a person is unconscious or semiconscious does not mean they always lose all perception of the status of their physical body or totally forget that they have fallen asleep. To “interpret” being barefoot, or any other type of dream state indicator, despite the setting, is to ridiculously overthink it and lose focus of what a dream actually is (a thought process in real time while one does not have viable faculties).

Being at the checkout is a very familiar form of waking symbolism. A checkout typically symbolizes the end marker of the dream state (or at least a shift in the level of unconsciousness or extent of reticular activating system activity).

I have noticed that coins are more likely to appear in a more vivid state of awareness than notes. This has something to do with the nature of coalescence and neural energy (in real time). A gathering or cascade of coins would symbolize emergent consciousness.

The rest, Zsuzsanna’s birthday and the flowers, are of course literal associations. Love is present regardless of the depth of unconsciousness and occasional loss of personal identity or conscious self validity.

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Morning of August 1, 2003. Friday.



I have been living in a “tree-house” - deep in extraordinarily beautiful thick, dark woods, miles from any city or even smaller rural area. The tree itself is actually more like a house-like structure. I live with a female that appears to be a “perfectly balanced” composite of my wife (at a younger age) and Brenda W. This appears to be the same composite female (but older here) from another dream where she, as a very attractive dark-haired witch (with just a slight hint of freckles), lived in an orange tree in the southwest corner of the orange grove in Cubitis. We are feigning ignorance of “normal” human life and human habits and mainstream society. We plan to make a movie to show the other denizens of the woods at some point…a “horror” movie about “average” people and their limitations and short attention spans (as well as their potential unpredictable rages over senseless, usually fictional, beliefs).

After time passes, I feel a somewhat tentative urge to explore a human city. I and a few others wander out from the woods, looking for signs of possibly frightening evidence of humans, eventually hoping to find the theme that can be viably used in our project. We come to a larger town. There is an area where a car drives slowly around, giving the strong impression of a prowling but mindless panther. We hide behind various fences just out of its reach. The city is uncomfortably weird and with potential of unexpected shadows of people (both “friendly” and potentially dangerous) appearing seemingly out of nowhere. We spend what seems a considerable time trying to work out if a parked car is occupied by one or two people or is merely empty.

Various small empty plastic bags (from potato chips and such) from vending machines seem to appear at random on the grassy areas adjoined to the sidewalk, causing one member of our group to become nervous. “That wasn’t there before!” they shout. Perhaps the wind just blew some of the pile from down the street. A dog barks, and someone screams. A bottle flies through the air from a drunk and is dodged by a team member. We go to study a broken hubcap near the middle of the street. We study it to determine if it has magical properties. It has an essence of the “wheel of fortune”.

There is a rumor that live human beings are walking about in unknown parts of the city. Terrifying. There is shadow play and there are false signs. We hear off-key singing. A group of drunks (unseen) are meandering near the railroad tracks area.

“Do you have the map?” someone asks. The map is like implied infrared images that somehow appear on what seems to be normal paper. Each image is of a person who is awake and walking or driving somewhere in the region. A member of the team, for some reason, still does not believe in human beings and claims that the reddish glows moving on the map are actually fireflies.

Every now and then (recurring since childhood) there is a vague impression of the shadows of giant rats (but never the rats themselves) moving across larger wooden fences near abandoned buildings, with an additional concern about random barbed wire in possible areas we try to move through. Ugly images of graffiti are horrendously splattered across the urban landscape, almost like an uneasy perception of unconscious occult ritual with the opposite intent of what is implied relative to the closeness of the images to each other - much like combining the wrong medicines in a given time period.

“There is nothing more frightening than walking through a town full of people,” comments a friend. I am inclined to agree. There is feigned concern and funny business over apparently losing our camera and film when it also seems we did not have any to begin with. Ugly billboards show smiling ogres holding up snake-oil. “The map, the map!” someone yells. It is no longer a map, but a napkin.

Over time, not much happens and we decide to return to the safety of the deep, dense forest. Even so, I decide to use an abandoned army jeep to make the trip faster. As we drive, I notice a strange, miniature wyvern that is more like just a partly moving woodcut design floating through the air, fairly high above us, but not posing a threat. It actually appears to be weirdly and incongruously superimposed on the dream itself, which creates a rather odd awareness for a short time, almost like a “watermark” on the actual construct of the dream (the only time I recall of having dreamt of this) in a similar way as a station logo appears over a television show. It seems to lose energy or injure a sketched wing and fall into a pile of abandoned rubbish on the wayside as we drive by the scene.

Before we get back to the forest, my wife (as she is now fully my wife as she is now) makes a remark about how quiet and peaceful “this part” of the city is at night. And I say, very slowly, “yes, it is…” as I awake very slowly with a very blissful awareness.

Synchronicity: A similar image (of a “deep forest”) was on the next user’s dream on the dream catcher site (with only one code number between the entries. Links here (15244 was offset originally - so the two images originally appeared together when posted):

http://dreamcatcher.net/blueopossum/15243

http://dreamcatcher.net/meghan_oona/15245

Morning of January 7, 2003. Tuesday.



My wife Zsuzsanna and I are in an unfamiliar restaurant, seemingly in early afternoon, and near a large window (about a restaurant table away in distance, as other people are at tables closer to the window as such), from about two feet from the floor to about two feet from the ceiling, with a wide view of the ocean, rocky shore, and a red lighthouse. I eventually get the impression that we are also in a lighthouse, though that is not very logical (as only one lighthouse is needed in a region), and our view via the window is at ground level.

Over time, my father (April 26, 1901-February 14, 1979) is seen in silhouette in the distance only. (My dream self has no recollection of his death, as is often the case in my non-lucid dreams.) He looks as if he is doing something with an air hose, bending down somewhat (in profile oriented to the right) towards something on or near the ground). I am aware that he may be involved in the maintenance of these buildings.

The lighthouse turns out to be (or rather, turns into) a rocket. It lifts off slowly, without incident. The beauty of the ocean also holds my attention and I “remember” we are near Cape Kennedy, though that was its name from 1963 to 1973, and is actually now known again as Cape Canaveral.

I have some doubts though, about remaining in the restaurant. There is some movement as if of a mild “earthquake”. It seems we are lifting off, yet the view from the window remains of the rocky shore with no hint that we are rising as it seems other than a mild physical awareness of such. Perhaps we are not actually in a rocket and the vibrations are from another rocket that is not presently seen.

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Most relevant key terms:

• Water induction as dream state initiation; water symbolizing sleep and its status (most common induction form, virtually every day for over fifty years in at least one dream of a twenty-four hour period).
• Exit flight waking symbolism (similar to return flight waking system but probably not as common, though basically meaning the same thing; RAS symbolism and inner ear dynamics in the waking transition).
• My wife Zsuzsanna in romantic scenario.
• Father alive without recollection he had died.
• Vibration as symbolic of growing awareness of my real physical body upon slowly waking.
• Being at a public restaurant (mild hunger while sleeping).
• Red as waking priority (common, typically only in the last dream of a sleeping period when I have been sleeping a bit too long).
• Waking symbolism (and dream self attention) oriented to the right (most common).

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Morning of August 12, 2002. Monday.



This is a recurring setting with very similar events in numerous other dreams. I am near the ocean and there is a part of the shore that turns off at a corner where there are more rocks in that direction as well as an upward slope. A lot of other people are around. Some people are there to swim or fish in certain areas but I begin to discover cardboard boxes just under the water that are somehow not ruined. This seems to be why I am here although I am surprised by the larger amount. These boxes, some of which are open (and the contents still not damaged in any way) contain books, board games, toys, and other “treasures”.

There are a few other people who apparently make a living gathering the contents of these boxes. I get the impression that parts of the area under the water are not that deep, and the boxes go out for quite a distance. It is not really that much like a dump under the water, though I am sure there is some junk that is not that useful or valuable. I gather several boxes and am interested in going down as far as possible. Perhaps there are more that have been buried under the ocean bottom over time. In a way, I think I am mentally teleporting the “treasures” to another location, likely to where I am living. (Of course, realistically, books under water for very long would be completely ruined.)

Morning of March 1, 2002. Friday.

Dream #: 12,856-02. Reading time (optimized): 1 min.



The usual water induction is eventually stable as an irregular pool in an outdoor area near a forest. One side has a rickety wooden fence, the other a solid wall. A staircase goes up to the wall where there is no door. Naiads, modeled after Zsuzsanna, play in the water.

The scene changes into an automobile assembly line in an unknown factory. Over time, vestibular system correlation takes many unusual forms as different distortions involving cars, trucks, and vans. There is a truck with its left side ambiguously merged into a wall. Over vehicles are overgrown with vines. There is a futuristic car of an aerodynamic but unrealistic design. (The angles seem too extreme.) A firetruck is on what is similar to the base of a statue.

The scene changes into an automobile assembly line in an unknown factory. Over time, vestibular system correlation takes many unusual forms as different distortions involving cars, trucks, and vans. There is a truck with its left side ambiguously merged into a wall. Other vehicles are overgrown with vines. There is a futuristic car of an aerodynamic but unrealistic design. (The angles seem too extreme.) A firetruck is on what is similar to the base of a statue.

Eventually, the preconscious simulacrum shows up in dark glasses with a spy essence. There is a bell he may be ringing soon. I anticipate this but move into the waking transition on my own.

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Vehicles (other than literal tie-ins) often represent the imaginary physical body in dreaming but can correlate with the real body depending on the state. (For example, a broken car door may be prescient of a lame arm, or a melting tire relevant to a burnt or injured foot.)

The dark glasses are a supraliminal awareness of my closed eyes in sleep. The bell is the waking alert factor (potential cortical arousal). The firetruck also represents co-occurrence with cortical arousal, which is why it is on an elevated base in this case.

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Morning of January 1, 2002. Tuesday.

Dream #: 12,797-05. Reading time: 48 sec.



I am in the northeast corner of the Cubitis living room listening to records on a gramophone of surreal appearance. The scene does not trigger any sense of wrongness. I see it as “mine.”

I am later looking at a map of the Aleutian Islands, though I am unsure of what I am doing. I know what I am looking at has significance. The region is incorrectly above the northwest area of Australia, though I do not see it as incorrect. The world does not have much land. Most of the eastern hemisphere seems mainly small islands. (The scenario has occurred in other dreams.)

While outside, I see an unusual light in the sky. It is eventually clearer. It is a piece of the moon, shaped like a jigsaw puzzle piece. It is returning to the moon like a “spaceship.” I see cracks on the moon’s surface that define the shapes of standard jigsaw puzzle pieces. There is a sense of both peace and puzzlement.

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The main dream state indicator was “The Aleutian Islands,” “Aleutian” sounding somewhat like “illusion” (as a dream state reference). Jigsaw puzzle patterns occur when a dream causes puzzlement in ambiguous liminal space between dreaming and waking.

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Morning of February 27, 2001. Tuesday.



This was a strange vivid dream of someone (unknown male) attacking me with large knives and unusual-looking seemingly ancient axes, with symbols on their surfaces, somewhat like stylized adzes. I go into the backyard of our present home (to distract him from engaging dangerously with my family in any way). He pursues, but I fly into the air fairly high with little effort. A thrown weapon then misses me. I then use some sort of in-dream “magic” by waving my hand and focusing my thoughts. This causes him to clumsily rise in the air under my control and move to a different location - and I then “release” him from his position in midair and he falls onto the hard tin roof of the house next-door and (apparently in-dream) dies.