Blue_Opossum

Morning of December 8, 1969. Monday.

Dream #: 1,085-02. Reading time (optimized): 1 min.



This dream scene is the final and most vivid of an incomplete narrative about Brenda and I using an elevator inside a tree to visit an underground world. The elevator operator is probably a Munchkin (of about my height - note that I was eight years old when I experienced this dream) from “The Wizard of Oz” (1939). The setup is similar to the one the wizard uses. The tree has a doorway at ground level but is otherwise a version of the tree in the northwest corner of West Elementary School’s playground. There is a cheerful mood. I sense it is early morning.

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My dream interprets my status of becoming more aware during the waking process as having been underground (asleep).

My dream interprets my instinctual awareness of being in REM sleep and its temporary condition of sleep atonia as my dream self being inside an imaginary tree because a tree is immobile.

My dream interprets my liminal anticipation of becoming more aware, both consciously and physically, during the waking transition, with the use of an elevator. It is a transition from the immobility of the tree.

The Munchkin is the modulatory personification of the vestibular system correlation of the waking process.

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My dream was also influenced by “The Night of the Green Terror” episode of “The Wild Wild West.” Dr. Loveless (Michael Dunn, the dwarf, dressed as Robin Hood), had an underground tree hideout accessed via a door. Even so, there was no negative undertone at any point in my dream.

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Morning of November 22, 1969. Saturday.



I am only about two inches high or smaller. I am with a female classmate, Linda (I think on the weekend within my dream as well). We are sitting in a “giant” nest playing house. It seems to be mostly made of Spanish moss. A few “giant” raindrops fall but do not endanger us (we are under a larger branch in the tree in the northwest corner of the West Elementary playground). There is a very blissful, timeless feel as well as a slight awareness of winter beginning. At one point, I seem to move into and around the scene, as if I am flying but disembodied. It is incredibly vivid. As was often the case, I felt a very strange sense of nostalgia, even for things that were seemingly visually completely new to me, or so it seemed. This idea may be related to having a lot of the “same” dreams you do not remember in any way, and then having the “same” or similar dream you do vividly recall for some reason.

Night of November 16, 1969. Sunday.

Dream #: 1,063-02. Reading time: 1 min 18 sec.



In my vivid dream, I am riding my school bus in the morning, but I soon notice that it is now an airplane. I realize this because of the unfamiliar bird’s eye views that I observe and enjoy. I am seated in the middle of the right side, closest the aisle. There is a feeling of comfort and security as I remain passive to my surroundings.

This “airplane” continues to maintain the appearance of the inside of my school bus. The “pilot” or “bus driver” is on the left as with my school bus. He is focused and does not turn to look back at any of my classmates at any time.

Based on my views primarily through the front windshield, we seem to be going downward at one point at about a forty-five-degree angle though there is no wariness or fear. Mostly, there are scenes of ancient Greece, including the Oracle at Delphi and the Temple of Athena Nike. The imagery causes an eerie essence as if I am traveling back in time or at least seeing images of the distant past.

There are only a few other students on board, and I do not recall seeing anyone I know. I remain unsure who the pilot is. Though he is in a formal outfit and wearing a cap, my real-life school bus drivers never wore a uniform. (I do not recall waking from this dream, which seemed to be in the middle of the night.)

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It became typical for me to imagine that I was riding in something other than my school bus when going to school, such as an airplane, rocket, train, a machine that chopped all the trees down along the way (after seeing “The Lorax”), and so on.

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This dream was before I maintained a consistent use of “opossum” (family DiDELPHIdae) in my ceremonial identity (and eventual Internet username) and the spiritual link with dolphins (family DELPHInidae). I was surprised to find “Delphi” in both.

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Early morning of November 8, 1969. Saturday. (Between 1 and 3 am.)



In my dream, my female classmate, Carol Waters, is swimming in a very small “swimming pool”, which seems to instead be a section where concrete is otherwise to be poured into the hole that is presently filled with water (as part of an internal floor foundation my father had been working on). The water in it may be a result of recent rain even though the setting seems indoors, though there are possibly missing external walls behind me or on either side as well as the roof not being constructed yet. It reminds me a bit of an actual construction area my father worked at previously but also (more likely) could be from newer construction on the new rabbit shed on the north side of our backyard. There is another person in my dream besides me and Carol Waters; seemingly my father, standing with arms akimbo to the south (facing north) of the small “swimming pool”. I am to the east of it. There is a sense of puzzlement in the scenario. It seems to be midnight or after in my dream, which may be reflecting the actual time in this case.

My father seems to be puzzled as to why Carol Waters (her real name) is using it as her own private “swimming pool”, as he needs to finish his work and pour the concrete (after removing the water), though he would not actually do this work so late at night. She is “swimming” upright, almost vertically in a seemingly physically impossible way; in an unusual very swift manner back and forth (east to west and back). The scene is highly unlikely, as the area for the concrete to be poured would not be deep enough to use as such (assuming Carol is actually upright in the water, though she may just be doing a wrongly perceived or distorted dog paddle). My father says that she is “afraid to come out of the water” giving me a vague awareness of the Brian Hyland song “Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polka Dot Bikini” (even though I am not certain of what Carol is wearing in my dream, as she never comes out of the water).

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This dream was in the middle of the night, seemingly coming out of a very deep sleep. It also seems too cold (even for Florida) to consider that someone would be swimming at this time. It seems amusing in that her surname was Waters and this is the only dream I documented as ever having her specifically as a character and was related to her being in the water.

Trying to be as accurately detailed as possible here, I will add the nature of the setting as in being of typical very clear perceptual bilocation. The scene, as well as its implied in-dream location, also seems to be oddly set between the south inner and outer wall of my bedroom, partly in the front yard in front of my father’s room (original room before he built the extension into the carport). This sense of bilocation occurred in the majority of my dreams when young (and still occurs more sparsely) though I had not previously given the specifics online.

A probable meaning to this dream is that I was merely focused (in-dream) on the dreaming process itself; that is, the water being the essence of the dreaming mind, projecting myself as Carol the swimmer, the pool not being a real pool (dream state as opposed to waking consciousness), my dream being short (not that much water in the faux pool), and the building incomplete (dream not fully rendered even though vivid). As most dreams have a precognitive or remote viewing layer, this one foreshadowed newer work my father was to become involved in. (He added a new area to the rabbit shed as well as becoming more involved in local construction involving houses, churches, and park utilities.) Also, immediately after my dream, he talked about rainwater making the concrete too wet and had to do additional work.

Additional notes. There was an association with an apparently fictional lyric “she was afraid to come out of the ocean, she was afraid to come out of the sea…” (as I often misremembered song lyrics as a child). Also, I always, even at this age, felt the song was a bit ambiguous, as it was not clear if the bikini or the polka dots were yellow. I did not see Carol Waters as shy in real life.

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melatonin simulacrum subsequent mediation / water lowering waking symbolism

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Morning of November 3, 1979. Saturday.



A living pelican skeleton walks about in my family’s living room in Cubitis (though I was living in Wisconsin by this time in real life). My dream is very intense and vivid, with an augmented sense of wonder, but not eerie despite the imagery. There is a vibrant positive energy present. The pelican skeleton eventually jumps up onto a dresser (along the west wall of the living room) and then spends time seemingly looking at itself in a mirror (perhaps in puzzlement of its “twin” in the mirror) and moving its wings of bone. I am also vaguely aware of other activity in the room, something like small balls rolling around and possibly small mammals of which I do not directly focus upon.

It seems very alive and vibrant, as if I am viewing the scene through some sort of x-ray vision. There is a lot of energy in my dream, and other events are happening, but this is the main one and the focus of my dream at its most vivid level. (It reminds me, in conscious afterthought, of an image from the Time-Life book “The Birds”, which I had since I was very young.

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This dream is a unique version of the otherwise typical type of autosymbolism in the last segment of my dreams that relates to associations with vestibular system ambiguity and not knowing where my physical body is in unconsciousness. Although there is a lesser semi-lucidity here, my dream self typically does not have viable access to either my unconscious or viable memory or thinking skills, or viable awareness of my conscious self in waking life. This, in fact, is why the mirror is rendered, as a mirror is a type of autosymbolism that represents this division of liminal space. The skeleton form represents how my dream self is not my complete conscious self in waking life, combined with the flight symbol that is precursory to the actual waking transition (and of which is rendered in over one in five of my dreams, at least once per sleep cycle).

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Night of November 2, 1969. Sunday.



This was recurring as a young boy when first moving to Cubitis in 1968. It related somewhat to my previous attempts to watch the movie “Cat People” at my sister Marilyn’s apartment in 1966 (1942 version, which I first tried watching around age four and could not focus on it - I thought for some reason that it was about groups of black house cats going after people, which it was not of course) but was somehow never able to get through it as I always fell asleep whenever it aired. To date, I have still not seen the entire movie.

Still, Simone Simon (more as the Irena Dubrovna persona), the actress (rare recurring childhood celebrity dream, I suppose) is my mother as she appeared in that movie. She sleeps in my room because I am supposedly ill (although I do not actually feel ill in any way, perhaps just a mild cold). This recurred over several nights, and part of the reason seems to be that my mother in real life shared my room for a short time when I was ill and was a heavy snorer - her snores transforming into “wolf growls” in my light sleeps.

My bed was aligned along the east wall of my room at the time, the foot blocking the jalousie-window door to the carport (of which there were two, the other with living room access), oriented south to north. My mother’s bed on the northwest corner, head to the west and west to east orientation. In the near-darkness, lumpy blankets could look like anything, including animals at rest.

I remember many times, waking up and getting a distinct impression that Simone Simon would protect me in either her adult human form or as a panther if a different animal wandered into my room - these were often restless half-sleeps. However, I sometimes also got the impression that there was a wolf at the foot of my real mother’s bed. This was not a strong impression or nightmare, just an odd uneasiness and “I’d better check every now and then by looking up” routine.

Morning of October 13, 1969. Monday.



This is titled “The Three Lives of my Dream Girl” not because the precognitive rendering of my wife Zsuzsanna has three lives in it but because it was directly influenced by “The Three Lives of Thomasina”.

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I find myself in what seems like an indoor intersection where four staircases go upwards from each direction (yet seems bilocated within the Cubitis living room yet has the typical feeling of being inside and outside at the same time). I follow a black cat that seems a bit familiar (though actually is not in reality as we had a white cat called Snowball). I do not reach the top of the stairs but I do reach an isolated mezzanine that I am aware of by looking over the top step from about the sixth step down. My mystery girl is sleeping on her back. There is a pale orange glow.

I am wary about bothering her so I turn and crawl across some sort of monkey-bars-like structure. I find “my” staircase and begin to look for my bed to make sure I am in it. Looking back, I see a two-dimensional giant orange tabby cat head just beginning to peak over the implied skirting of the odd adjacent mezzanine (from wherever I now am) and behind the head of the mystery girl’s bed, the floor of the mezzanine (or loft) which now seems hexagonal. I get a vague impression of the oversized black cat statues being alive (though they never actually move) and I hear a vague buzzing sound, like crickets but lower in pitch.

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• I have come to realize that an intersection may be some sort of real-time artifact indicating shared dreaming.
• A staircase is a real-time symbol of the dream’s status and relates to a potential shift in consciousness, including waking.
• Zsuzsanna was a cat breeder who went to cat shows when we first wrote, making this dream precognitive in an additional secondary way.
• A statue coming to life (which does not fully unfold here) is a waking metaphor (waking precursor) that symbolizes the conscious mind becoming more active.
• A black cat is a circadian rhythms factor (cats being typically perceived as nocturnal) and signifies threads of dawning consciousness in liminal space. In my case, the recurring black cat, or in some cases “shadow cat” or humanlike panther, is a variation of the preconscious personification, though ironically is typically more helpful than when in human form.
• This is a common daybreak dream (which are about as common as return flight dreams - which represent about twenty percent of all dreams), validated by the presence of the color orange (moderate waking priority) and the giant cat head (almost like a flat stage prop) coming up over the head of the bed as being analogous to sunrise and the emerging conscious self.

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Morning of October 6, 1969. Monday.

Dream #: 1,022-02. Reading time: 1 min 40 sec.



Five or six schoolmates and I slowly become aware of, and choose to investigate, another part of our school in Arcadia that most people supposedly do not usually go to on the east side of the high school building (even though we are in elementary school, though we did have classes in the high school building).

Bossy schoolmate Susan C is present. She is the authority for our tentative exploration. It is seemingly very early in the morning before sunrise. At one point, she lifts her finger to her lips in a “shush” gesture. (I consider this a dream sign as people sometimes do this when someone else is sleeping.)

We arrive at a staircase behind a doorway, directly accessible from the outside of the building. It leads to the highest floor, to a big bedroom where a possibly dangerous male giant is sleeping. (There is never a sense of impending danger.) I get the impression he is about four times larger than a normal human being. We all walk up the steps slowly and cautiously, Susan in the lead. Eventually, everything starts shaking. The giant is possibly slowly waking for the day, but there is no immediate danger. We ascend the steps with curiosity and caution. Perhaps the shaking of the school building is only caused by the giant’s snoring, and he may not wake after all. We do not reach the top before I wake, yet I visualize him in my mind’s eye. He is asleep in his bed on his back kitty-corner from the doorway I peer through, his head in the opposite direction of my viewpoint, the soles of his feet facing me and uncovered (by the bed sheet) with one sock half-off.

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Here, the preconscious, as my classmate Susan, serves as the transitional vestibular system simulacrum as I remain passive to the dreaming process. She is guiding my infra-self into the subception that my conscious self is sleeping. The top of the stairs is a precursory factor that correlates with the extent of my readiness for getting out of bed and going to school. However, in this case, it is nowhere near the time to wake up for the day. That is why Susan “shushed” my infra-self, despite the incidental emergence of vestibular system awareness. It serves as a reinduction process rather than consciousness initiation. This shaking effect occurs in the first part of the sleep cycle.

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See my series, “Staircase Autosymbolism and Dream State Mediation” for important revelatory notes on dreams of this nature.

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Morning of October 6, 1979. Saturday.

Dream #: 4,674-04. Optimized 1 minute 30 second read.





My dream implies I am in an ongoing monster movie called “In a Nutshell” in Cubitis. Although it is vivid, my emotions are not intense enough to initiate wakefulness as I summon the essence of horror to serve my dream’s imaginary narrative. (I often do this by habit to manifest ASMR, the “spine tingling” that brings about bliss, but which is rarely complete in this mode of dreaming.)

My father is near at one point, sitting on the bed, but only as a backstory commentator.

Most scenes occur in semi-darkness in the southwest bedroom of the Cubitis house (not where I am sleeping in reality but still the result of background awareness I am in bed).

The featured monster begins its life by growing inside an egg that mimics a walnut. I see one of them prematurely hatch as a tiny black horse that jerks about on its side on the floor - reminiscent of a mosquito larva (“wriggler”). This one may be dying because of hatching too quickly (though I hit the “walnut” with a hammer as a requirement of the “movie’s script”). (There is no outcome here, only a transition to another scene.)

The adult form of the monster is a mutant bear that has poisonous porcupine quills. It hunts people for food. There is a nighttime scene when I am “surprised” by the creature (though it is metacognitive summoning and pretending). It occurs as I walk around a corner of the Cubitis house (at its south end). The monster lifts its arms, but it does not attack me.

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Metacognitive Dreaming Responses:

Predominant bedroom setting.

REM atonia (something enclosed or its movement restricted; the tiny “horse” inside the “walnut”).

Sleep myoclonus (the wriggling “horse” on its side, modeling my sleeping position, as a horse typically appears when anticipating my physical mobility after waking).

Association with “hibernation” or sleeping (the mutant bear).

“Around the corner” metacognitive summoning (a deliberate dreaming element since early childhood). In a childhood dream, the result was a dog coming from around the same corner. It jumped up to press against my chest, resulting in a myoclonic awakening.

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Influences:

The movie “Prophecy” (1979).

The movie “The Valley of Gwangi” (1969).

The Crazy Magazine parody of “The Waltons” titled “The Walnuts” (1974).

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Morning of October 4, 1969. Saturday.



I am eight years old and am outside in the backyard of my home in Florida, and I become aware that I am dreaming. I want to enjoy myself in this lucid dream that is slowly growing in vividness, but I suddenly become aware that there are buzzards circling above (as sometimes occurs in real life) and I yell up at them - saying that I am not afraid, even raising my right fist at them. (This is mainly because Florida buzzards were a recurring fear factor in my dreams of this time period, both lucid and non-lucid.)

Almost immediately, I become aware that one of the buzzards is now swooping down to get at me. I run into the carport, and the buzzard flies onto my lower back, stabbing me with its beak (at the same time I start to sit down in an attempt to somehow crush the buzzard into the back of the chair which is impossible because a buzzard is too big for such an act). I then start to wake with a bizarre intense sensation as I am also leaning back against the chair with metal legs which I had chosen to sit in as quickly as possible (the chair facing south to the wall of the carport rather than out from the wall). The chair is not that far from the main door into the house, but I knew I could not get to it in time. I also notice a lawn mower near the chair. This also seems to be some sort of premonitory awareness of a spasm of some sort in my lower back, which is much the same as in certain other dreams.

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This dream was so intense that I was almost certain that I had rolled over onto my pet cat and harmed it, but it was not around at the time. It takes some time for me to fully wake and realize this, but when I finally move, nothing is there. The in-dream sense of touch was increased to such an extent, I could feel the lumpiness in my back for a minute or so, which was not there in reality and I felt relieved that our cat was likely okay in another room as the sensation eventually dissipated.

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Morning of September 28, 1979. Friday.



This was a long meandering dream that recurred a few times during the same sleeping period. It also has the common dream theme (regarding my time travel or even “different dimension” dreams) of frustrating appearances of anachronisms (such as modern cars seen in an implied 1800s setting), though in this case, there is a specific “explanation” for it all.

A location that “resets” a few times is based on a supposed “time bomb” just under the surface of the ground at an older abandoned football field in a rural area (which in one version is implied to be part of an abandoned city), where shrubs and high weeds and such have grown along the perimeter (though not much in the abandoned football field itself). I and a few others wander around in several different locations. The main later parts of my dream center on Loomis Street, though most of the events take place on the street rather than the Loomis Street house.

This dream basically takes a play from the idea of “time bomb” in that it is a bomb that apparently fractures time. Later, different periods of history are mixed together in the present. I see cars from the 1920s in one area to the west and more modern vehicles elsewhere. Historical figures (from different times periods) are implied to be alive now as well. This is an intriguing idea I think, but probably not “new” (though I did not research the concept). There is also a seeming “hall of mirrors” effect in my perspective near the end of my dream, depending on where I am looking, which seems to mean that different “pieces” of time are not quite fully integrated into the present.

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Night of September 26, 1969. Friday.



I am in some sort of museum or art gallery, seemingly late at night, and no one else is around, not even my parents. I go up to a painting of a colorful landscape and the closer I look, the more “energy” I feel. After a short time, it seems I am moving into the painting and then hovering above a very large crowd of men who all look very similar, all equidistant and uniform - each about a person-width apart from each other, seemingly in a huge featureless room with a smooth white floor. They all seem to step forward and are waving a paintbrush in the air and are singing. Each sweater and beret they are wearing matches the color (or actually is the color when zoomed out) in that supposed “drop of paint” in the original painting - and it is as if I am looking at the painting at a very highly magnified level. Also, it seems this may only happen at night. I feel a sense of peace and joy in seeing this unusual “closeup” of the magnificent painting. It is like a wide miniature parade of living colors and reflects a deep feeling of comfort.

Later, my dream decays (or shifts into a different dream state and awareness) into a scene where I walk around looking at lawn mowers in some sort of large garage, but which still seems to be part of the art gallery or museum.

The original dream journal title for this, even when transferred a few times, was “Picture It Strange”, which was, of course, before I learned more about grammar. There was also a stage where it was titled “Pingere”. I wanted to make this into a story and started to when young, but could not think of a plot foundation to “explain” the main events.

Morning of September 21, 1969. Sunday.



This was a highly annoying dream that seemed to “reset” all night long. There were a couple vaguely interesting parts, but it mostly involved having to sweep outside, in the early morning until late afternoon, the whole area between the cafeteria and the northern side of the main West Elementary school building, not just the sidewalks and portico areas, but the grounds as well. Of course, there was always more sand and a bit of debris to go back to and never actually feel any sense of completion of the required job.

The other students were doing chimney cleaning throughout the neighborhood, apparently. There were not even any actual chimneys to speak of much for such work in reality. In the past (about a year before I finally “got” the real lyrics), I absentmindedly sang “Chin chin chir-ree” (instead of “Chim”) without anyone noticing - I guess because I thought “chin” actually related to the person’s face while doing the cleaning. This was also related to the somewhat precognitive “cat-woman” dream where the girl on the roof at Rose Street was a foreshadowing of an actual school play with the “same” girl (of the sparsely recurring December 20, 1966 dream). I believe there is also a vague association with Mickey Mouse in “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice” and a concern about not getting my job done (the idea of “without magic” is only a very vague thought at one point). Of course, it could also imply an indirect association with the “mystery girl” during this time, in her Wendy persona, as she rode a broom.

In the background, also, is the “Money Cat” association. The eerie black cats, however, are only moving about in sparse patterns of swiftness on the roof of the main school building (the “Mary Poppins” rooftop associations were “perfectly” integrated with the “Gay Purr-ee” rooftop associations for some reason, with that sort of tentative “charcoal”, “submarine periscope chimneys”, and vaguely unpleasant wide-reaching industrial implications). No one else is around and I am close to anger at having to be the only one with the job at hand. The task seems ultimately pointless. The dream drags out in an uncomfortable manner - and, if that were not bad enough, it resets as I have already stated - back to the “beginning”. The cats coming out later, especially as the sun sets, means that I have “failed”, yet I do not see the relevance to my actual school grades.

Relating to this dream and several pleasing ones, there is some sort of odd, layered nostalgic conscious association going back to the “Money Cat” song from “Gay Purr-ee”, the “carrot creature” (what I call “her”) from “Cold Hands, Warm Heart” (“The Outer Limits”), the dance by Nichelle Nichols in “Star Trek V: The Final Frontier” (which had alien “cat women”), and the “cat burglar” girl from the 1966 (and later) dreams. I found it interesting how the first viewing of the “Star Trek V” movie triggered what almost amounted to a false and “distant” memory, but was actually a “buried” long-term association with the imagery. It “struck” me at a very deep and personal level.

Morning of September 15, 1969. Monday.



As I ride my crowded southbound school bus on Highway Seventeen in early morning, there is a vague recall (without lucidity) of how I sometimes daydream (in real life) that my school bus is a rocket going to the moon. This becomes the case in my dream, though my school bus remains of the same appearance. I feel the sensation of my school bus moving through the sky.

My classroom is in the same building, yet rendered as being on the moon. I sit in my classroom in the left-most row of desks in about the middle of the row, facing south. Farther to my left is a large singular window (not a real-life feature).

Instead of an outside view, it seems to be a chemistry laboratory (even though I had been vaguely aware of the moon’s surface viewed from this window, the ambiguous change probably a result of a dream reset). The Disney cartoon character Emil Eagle is there, picking up and pouring from test tubes, seemingly planning something questionable, likely with bad intent, perhaps even an intent to poison all the students and my teacher (an unfamiliar female). (However, he may be trying to create a “hair-growing formula”, based on a comic book story I had read a few times. Emil Eagle first appeared in “The Evil Inventor” in May of 1966 as a balding industrial spy that sought to steal Gyro’s hair growth formula.)

My teacher and classmates do not seem to be aware of what he is doing or even that he is present. I eventually discern an unpleasant odor, which is much like asphalt. I consider that the teacher and students might think I had passed wind, with a vague contemplation of the word “asphalt” as “ass fault”. However, I also consider that the odor is real asphalt from outside, unrelated to Emil’s experiment. I worry about the odor and hold onto a concern about possibly being poisoned by noxious gas, yet I do not leave the classroom or express my concern to my teacher, as I might be blamed for disrupting the class.

I still contemplate passively pointing out that Emil Eagle is responsible for the odor (in case someone else says something first). I consider that they might think the odor is caused by smoke from a nearby fire or (as in real life) the supposed factory fumes from Nocatee (which was sarcastically referred to by schoolmates as “Skunkatee”). I neither make the connection that Emil Eagle is only a villainous Disney comic book character, not an entity I would ever see in real life, nor do I consider that being on the moon is unusual.

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Non-lucid dream control is evidenced by the association with daydreaming and my dream self not being surprised by my dream’s otherwise impossible events. Additionally, the main factor of this dream reveals non-lucid dream control in my partial modulation of the liminal space divider’s (the window’s) autosymbolism that is otherwise a result of vestibular system correlation (and liminally anticipating it as a negative consequence as evidenced by an ambiguous sketchy flight symbol rendered as Emil Eagle, as it has always been very common for me to have liminal anticipation of the waking process, typically experienced biologically as a falling sensation, as renderings of birds, airplanes, or related factors). All of the other dynamics, including the odor itself, have literal associations.

Emil Eagle is this dream’s preconscious factor (which is often personified), always uniquely rendered. Non-lucid manipulation of liminal space barriers (or dream state “bulwarks”), the division between dream self and waking self identity, has been a very common factor in my dreams since early childhood, probably the most common form of non-lucid dream control other than generic summoning.

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Years after this dream, in ninth grade in high school, I found myself in a very similar classroom, sitting in the same orientation as I was in this dream (of which at the time did not correlate with real-life orientation of any classroom I had been in). My new homeroom teacher for this term reminded me of the otherwise fictitious teacher of this dream. In real life, this teacher had spent time one morning dramatically complaining before class started, about a bad odor. Considering the hundreds of times when Zsuzsanna and I inexplicably communicated in dreams before we made contact in real life, attributing a factor of this dream to a possibly prescient thread is certainly not unreasonable.

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Night of September 13, 1969. Saturday.



This is one of those “just walking around and looking at stuff” dreams, though not of the admiring perspective as in later lucid dreams. It is also one of my typical childhood dreams where the environment seems only about three-quarters rendered and a light fog eventually flows in from more distant features, yet only about three or four inches high from any implied ground or floor (and as mentioned in other entries, I have never been certain if this was influenced by a staged “dream scene” on a television show, or a natural association representing the dreaming process itself, especially as my dream work began so early in life, I did not note much of what may have influenced particular dreams and only through a lot of extensive research have I been able to validate some very early influences over the last ten years).

I am north of my home in Cubitis seemingly before sunrise, on the east side of the Highway, probably in the same general area on the other side of the highway from the W family house. However, there is a large fictional building which seems to be some sort of store (though designed more like a warehouse). Inside, though no one else is around (I am not certain if it is abandoned or just closed), are wooden shelves, farther north being bags of fertilizer on higher shelves from one to three high, and closer to where I mostly remain being small garden forks, diggers, and trowels, some randomly strewn about on a particular shelf. It occurs to me that some of these garden tools are brand new and others damaged (perhaps returned to the store after long usage). I try to focus on this being fact or not but am not that aware. There is also an extremely vague association with eating utensils (forks and spoons) and their similarity to the garden tools.

I trip over a shovel (left leg - probably in an attempt to walk southerly back to my house) leaned up against a wall near a doorway and somehow fall through the doorway into a black void (though do get the impression of an empty room with a dirt floor), similar to a hypnagogic jerk (or hypnic jerk) but fully within the dream state - or rather, the very end of the dream state. Interestingly, I can always trace these supposed hypnic jerks to an actual dream (often a vivid or even lucid dream) yet much of the information on the Internet claims that they occur as a person is falling asleep, which does not at all match my own lifelong experiences (then again, hardly anything I ever read ever does, so that is nothing new).