Morning of May 26, 2020. Tuesday. Dream #: 19,517-01. Reading time (optimized): 3 min. My dream self grows instinctually aware and active during the usual process that determines a handler for cortical arousal (initially my vestibular cortex). In this dream, it is Jackie Gleason, the primary influence being the moonrise (dream state initiation) in the television series “The Honeymooners.” (I will emphasize a fundamental causal factor here. Because being in the dream state has a similar level of cortical dormancy and sensory deprivation as when watching television or a movie, a celebrity is often the virtual handler of my waking transition.) An unknown male is with me to my right (waking status personification, mainly inactive). In a big undefined room, two unfamiliar men are standing and talking, facing each other, with the implication we are watching a movie, though we are present and sitting cross-legged at the scene (a common dream state ambiguity). One man is playing the role of a young and thin Jackie Gleason. For a few minutes, we are trying to work out which man is playing him. Eventually, it becomes obvious. It is the man on the left, who has dark curly hair. The identity determinant results in initiating the next stage of my dream and vivifies it. My dream self handler (again, vestibular cortex) is Jackie Gleason. Even so, I am still only a witness to the scenario. The Sistine Chapel is in ruins, though only as in another world. An unknown male with a staff controls the lightning (neural energy while in the dream state) to send individuals into the other world. He first does this to an unknown woman (a quantum model of Zsuzsanna, as my waking-life identity is absent). I watch her wander around alone. The storm is not threatening. Eventually, the anticipated myoclonus factor becomes pre-liminal. Jackie Gleason stands in the center of the ruins and wants to find the unknown woman to confirm her status and bring her back if possible. The expectation of the transition is by way of flight (as has usually been the case since childhood). There is no roof on the ruins of the building, to allow for the vestibular management of this process. (I am sleeping on my back in this instance, which usually results in vertical dream state processing rather than horizontal as with, for example, using a door to exit my dream). A pterodactyl flies down as the vestibular processing simulacrum. Jackie Gleason stands there, but nothing happens. They stare at each other, but the pterodactyl eventually unexpectedly flies off instead of carrying him into the next world. As a result of no myoclonus or viable consciousness emergence, cortical arousal instead establishes a vivid offset dream that serves as a false awakening, and I am now lying on my back on the front lawn of our current home in the late morning. Zsuzsanna is standing to my left. (She is awake in reality, standing to my left in our lounge room.) I can see the front of our house and the sky. Dark clouds, lightning, and rain are fast approaching from the south. I am concerned about my dream journal getting wet (as it is on the lawn near me), but I have difficulty moving quickly enough. Eventually, I can get up and wake while doing this. Here are some similar examples of this dreaming process that has occurred every sleep cycle for over 50 years: Ralph Waite (as in “The Mississippi” television series from the 1980s), referring to a book, talks about the vestibular cortex processing in initiating consciousness (though I do not discern the specific details), summons a giant sparrow, and flies off on its back. (November 7, 2018.) An unknown woman and her daughter (quantum model of Zsuzsanna and our youngest daughter) receive a book from Rodan. (Rodan has a similar appearance as a pterodactyl.) The book is enormous (as tall as the woman) and is about dream state processes. (May 21, 2020.) A giant white dove (with a red heart symbol on its chest) emerges from the entrance of the Arcadia post office and approaches me as I stand outside facing the building. I hold onto a sword engulfed in blue fire, but there is no threat. (February 9, 1991, part of a longer dream with enigmatic communication with Zsuzsanna before we met in waking life, foreshadowing the letter she wrote to me. I arrived in Australia on February 9, 1994. An American postage stamp, #2814C, featuring a white dove and a red heart made of roses came out on February 14, 1994.)
Morning of May 22, 2020. Friday. Dream #: 19,513-02. Reading time: 1 min 50 sec. In instinctual dreaming mode, though not long after a lucid transition and cessation, I am in an unknown second-floor apartment that has the erroneous implication of being where we presently live. Five cardboard boxes are adjacent to one wall. They contain belongings of an unfamiliar woman Zsuzsanna knows, but since we are supposedly moving, we will remove her possessions first. When the unfamiliar male removalist arrives (as a typical passive sleep-wake manager), I help him put the boxes into the back of his van even though they are not very big. I arrange them in two stacks of three and two, which is interesting, as, although the boxes change size and shape (regarding height and width contrast) several times, the number of them does not change, which suggests cognizance is becoming active. I talk with him about having worked on a garbage route, and he expresses amusement in how I describe walking in a landfill and the ground giving way when empty cardboard boxes are just beneath the surface. What I am describing is an analogy of losing consciousness when falling asleep as well as not having lucidity, and as a result, instinctual reinduction jumps to a pre-liminal focus. I am in the apartment again. I have four galvanized metal washtubs filled with water and sitting on the floor. I pick a water lily off a plant from another area and put it on the water’s surface. It sinks slightly, and I wonder if too much organic material is missing for it to grow. I put another blossom on the surface of the water in the second washtub. Eventually, I see what looks like seaweed swirling in the water. A girl (Naiad) emerges from each washtub. I have a cylindrical segment of a big branch (or small log) with a carved recess of a scene that features a miniature house and yard. I put this in the fourth washtub after putting an oversized jeweled Easter egg in the third. Two additional Naiads emerge, one seemingly the leader. All of them are wearing white gowns. The Naiad leader stands close to me and eventually starts talking about a human male she once knew. I see a depiction on a small viewscreen floating in the air, showing their history, the speed of which seems accelerated. A red letter x appears and vanishes on each of her cheeks (in the video) numerous times, indicating where he kissed her. Although a letter x supposedly means a kiss (what I have heard much of my life), there is also the contradicting claim that letter o means a kiss (as puckering lips), not letter x, and that an x represents two people hugging. It can also mean a sworn oath and has ties to Christianity in the Middle Ages.
Morning of May 10, 2020. Sunday. Dream #: 19,501-03. Reading time (optimized): 2 min. My dream self lacks any waking-life references (and as usual, there is no recall of the present state of the world), though I become interested in a couple of big books with ambiguous content in an unknown but mostly undefined setting. I treat them as mine. The first section of the books seems to feature summaries of dream content, the second, various comic strips (“Blondie” being the one I focus on more), and the third seeming like the Yellow Pages of a phone book. I read a “Blondie” comic strip at the top of a left-hand page, atypically of only two panels, the second panel featuring a winter scene in a city. There is a scene that briefly seems to be in a “real” setting when I am looking at the front of the residence where Dagwood and Blondie live. I consider meeting Dagwood and going to parts of his house that no one (including the Bumsteads) had ever seen. (In a previous dream, I was at a party with Dagwood, his boss Mr. Dithers, and Blondie, and they appeared mainly as in the comic strip.) Imaginary somatosensory cortex dynamics initiate but link to a static form of the vestibular cortex model (in contrast to “Fun with Rockets and Alien Spaceships” from May 1) and no dynamic foundation of myoclonus (waking start or falling trigger). As a result, I find myself with an old Greek coin, the one that features the Owl of Athena (a flight reference for my dream’s waking transition as always occurs with this mode of dreaming). (One of the last static versions of this process was a sketchy drawing of a crow appearing in a mirror in “Sophie the Ghost” from May 3.) Even so, the coin is about three times bigger than an American quarter and possibly hollow. Although the coin is too big to be real, I briefly consider it genuine and valuable. I plan to show it to this dream’s unseen sleep-wake manager (an unknown male), but before I reach him, I see “Athens” to the lower right of the owl relief in uppercase. I read it clearly, and it does not change over time. I consider the coin cannot be genuine because of “Athens” being in English. I wake upon realizing this. This dream stems from childhood dreaming practices in which I tried to hold onto a summoned coin to awake with it (and of course, it never worked, although I sometimes woke while pinching my pillowcase). The process (and its absentminded expectation by way of the virtuous circle effect of dreaming practices) has occurred in thousands of my dreams, sometimes with a static link to myoclonus associations as here. I will include another example from 2017 when I sat at a table with Les Gold (of “Hardcore Pawn”), and we were discussing a fictitious 1970 limited edition American quarter that featured the outline of Jonathan Livingston Seagull. We talked of how the coin was unpopular, with similar notoriety as the American Susan B. Anthony Dollar.
Morning of May 9, 2020. Saturday. Dream #: 19,500-03. Reading time: 1 min 50 sec. This dream occurred near the middle of my sleep cycle in a deeper state. I was surprised to find an article yesterday that claimed researchers have found what I had already known for over fifty years. It is that dream content tends to correlate with the depth of sleep (for example, less conflict in a deeper sleep and more social impositions in lighter sleep, the way my dreams have worked every sleep cycle, and the fundamental foundation for the waking transition and reticular activating system dynamics). In this dream, there is no recall of my current waking life or the world’s status. I am in Alan Brady’s office, as on “The Dick Van Dyke Show” (that I have not seen or thought about for some time). The only characters from the television show in my dream are Jerry and Millie Helper. I look in boxes on Alan Brady’s desk when I am not supposed to be here. It is a typical sorting dream, where I keep finding many different features over a long period. There are several packages and a manilla envelope as well as books (some science-fiction). There are several checks, but I do not think I could cash them, though I briefly consider it. I find a small worn cardboard box with a piccolo used in a movie Alan Brady (Carl Reiner) starred. It has leaf motifs amateurishly painted on it (with thick paint) in various colors. The lip plate with the appearance of the Nutcracker soldier is missing. I first feel it (somatosensory phasing). (The situation is false memory from the “I Am a Fine Musician” act on “The Dick Van Dyke Show.” Mary Tyler Moore played the imaginary piccolo, and the four actors dressed as the Nutcracker soldier.) There is a surveillance camera in Alan’s office in a corner near the ceiling. I move stuff around on his desk, but I sit on the floor out of its range at other times. When I put stacks of materials back into the largest box, I consider it is not the original way they were stored, but I am unconcerned. I think of telling Millie Helper about the piccolo, but I do not. Still, Jerry and Millie do not seem to think I am doing anything wrong and remain cheerful. Looking at the carpet, I see a multi-colored splash of ink or paint in the form of a mandala. Although I am unsure whether I had caused the carpet’s changes, I start instinctually enhancing the somatosensory illusion. As I move my hand, I pull long strands of yellow yarn from the carpet, noticing narrow gaps revealing the floor. It is my usual liminality modulation, though horizontal instead of vertical, stemming from my sleeping position (my head being more downward).
Updated 02-24-2021 at 09:37 AM by 1390
Morning of May 3, 2020. Sunday. Dream #: 19,494-01. Reading time (optimized): 2 min. In this dream from late morning, I maintain precursory liminality after I re-enter sleep. As a result, I recall Zsuzsanna and a few of my waking-life associations (including the instinctual perception of being in bed), though I lose recall of what a dream is (as I ordinarily do in this mode). Even so, it starts with my focus on our bed, but the setting is undefined at first. As Zsuzsanna and I are standing in a different room, I watch the sheet on the bed lift by itself and move back as if manipulated by an invisible person. (Note that this correlates with the management of precursory liminality and has happened in many previous dreams.) Zsuzsanna and I walk into the unknown bedroom, and I am astounded by the realistic detail and precise rendering of the events (a thought process that never occurs in waking life - how many people, for example, would watch a car go down the street in waking life while thinking, “Wow, that looks so realistic”). Over time, my dream resolves the room as having the essence of the Barolin Street house’s lounge room (where a bed never was in waking life). Eventually, the supposed ghost of a teenage girl is present and is responsible for the previous inexplicable activity. Her name is Sophie. “Are you the same Sophie from years ago?” I ask her, but my question does not make much sense. She cheerfully confirms that she is by nodding. (She is an older version of Sophie Wender from John Wyndham’s “The Chrysalids,” also published as “Re-Birth.”) I move my hands through her hair, saying how “realistic” it seems as imaginary somatosensory dynamics increase exponentially. (Note that in a different recent dream, this same process resulted in removing sandspurs from a resting wolf’s fur.) Eventually, with Zsuzsanna still in the room, another supposed ghost materializes. This one is Marcella Boyland from Daniel F. Galouye’s “Tonight the Sky Will Fall,” though I do not interact with her as much. The need to wake to use the bathroom integrates into my dream’s content, resulting in liminal management and its personification as an unknown male ghost married to Sophie, a status previously unbeknown to me. (His manifestation annoys me, as Sophie is “mine,” but discarding the waking transition would be unwise.) As a result, I gaze into a mirror (though I do not see myself at any point, as the mirror is higher than my line of sight), with liminal drop anticipation. From this, the sketchy drawing of a crow fills the mirror, part of it including random zigzagging lines. “Can ghosts influence what people see?” I absentmindedly ask the male. “I had that mirror back when I lived in Chicago,” says the male, which is the usual nonsensical response to questions asked in liminal mode. (Ghosts typically result from liminal management with waking-life identity being “incomplete” when between dreaming and waking.) The “ghost” walks into the bathroom, causing me to realize that I need to wake up and go.
Pulling Sandspurs from a Wolf’s Fur Morning of May 2, 2020. Saturday. Dream #: 19,493-02. Reading time (optimized): 2 min 30 sec. I am sitting on the floor in the living room of a unique variation of the Loomis Street house near the front door. An unfamiliar man is present to my right (closest to the door). I am stroking the fur of a wolf that is lying on his left side. For a time, everything is relaxing and uneventful. Somehow, I get sandspurs stuck on me, and they immediately form at least two lines on the wolf’s fur, closest to his back. I determine that they had come from an area on the carpeted floor to my left. I become annoyed, as now I have to pull each sandspur from the wolf’s fur. As I do this, I complain to the man that I had not been outside recently, so they could not have come from me. As a result of my sense of touch increasing exponentially for a few minutes and establishing a higher level of (somatosensory) cortical arousal, my dream processing changes to a scene where I look out at a parking lot setting from a doorway. A few unknown people are walking around, but a man with an unrealistically big head appears and dances about irritatingly. Using a combination of telekinesis and mentally willing more sandspurs into existence, I cover his body with sandspurs from more than ten feet away as I wake. Get the truth about my dream and some of its familiar causal factors here: My dream’s first scene is a unique but familiar form of a process that occurs at least once every sleep cycle. Often, the first discernible rendering is a result of my instinctual awareness I am dreaming. For example, the wolf is resting on his left side, co-occurrent with my sleeping orientation. The unknown man is to my right, co-occurrent with (in this case, subliminal) environmental monitoring (as my right side is more exposed to my real environment). Wolves, bears, lions, and most other kinds of animals still occur in my dreams regularly, often as an animal semblance of my reticular activating system as here. However, their nature typically correlates with the ultradian rhythm curve of my sleep cycle. (For example, I had this dream after sunrise, and wolves are nocturnal, and that is how I perceive them.) Despite my waking-life identity being absent from my dream, there are incidental compartmentalized associations with the coronavirus. (Even so, I have not yet had a dreaming experience with a viable recall of the pandemic. The processing factors of my dreams have not changed at all.) For example, although I have dreamt of cenchrus (sandspurs) before, they have vague visual similarity with the coronavirus. Removing sandspurs from the wolf’s fur also stems from a distortion of Zsuzsanna removing them from one of our cats (a typical synthesized distortion to prevent confusing dream content with waking life). A parking lot usually only occurs in the last scene of a dream in the last dream of a sleep cycle as liminality begins to increase during the waking transition, and it signifies the status of awareness between dream space and precursory waking space. One association is parked vehicles (the body being motionless in bed). In the real world, a parking lot also represents liminal space. The man with the big head is a liminal association with a YouTube video I saw yesterday, supposedly featuring a caricature of UK Prime Minister Boris Johnson in bed with the virus (with doctors and nurses dancing around) even though it was part of the 2012 Olympics opening ceremony. The character is “out of bed” in my dream as signifying me getting out of bed after waking. Ultimately, despite my dreams likely seeming surreal to the average person, they are almost always extraordinarily easy for me to decode and resolve.
Morning of May 1, 2020. Friday. Dream #: 19,492-02. Reading time (optimized): 1 min 30 sec. My dream’s foundation is a result of imaginary somatosensory modulation, but atypical. (I often cup my hand around a vertical bar of the head of our bed for this.) Ordinarily, I summon an egg to increase a dream’s illusory sense of touch (other than in a later rendering of a dream’s timeline when it is more often coins), the reason being that an egg is a perfect size to focus on the area of my palm and the underside of my fingers when I cup my hand. This type of modulation is usually in an indoor setting. However, in this instance, there is a precursory vestibular perception that results in the common sky-watching scenario, though in this case, it is seemingly in the late morning rather than before dawn. Over time, I see a flying saucer high in the sky. Many other people are around in a mostly featureless field. I focus on creating small rockets to blow up any spaceships. The exponential increase in my dream’s illusory sense of touch stems from the middle of a small rocket first materializing in my cupped right hand. The top and bottom of the miniature missile telescope from each side, coming into existence with minimal effort in my summoning the feature. It is partially reminiscent of a toy plastic rocket I had as a boy that comes apart in sections. I mentally cause the missile to ignite and leave my hand to destroy a flying saucer. Even though it is less than a foot long, I have a close view of when it reaches the spacecraft (as if looking through a virtual telescope). I enjoy the explosion (as I usually do in this mode of dreaming). Over time, as more spaceships appear, I indulge in the same activity, several times, enjoying my pointless entertainment. I experiment with different visualizations and anticipation of the results. At one point, I send my rocket to a feature with the resemblance of a rocket booster (similar to the rectangular aft skirts in some science-fiction movies). From there, the rocket goes inside the middle of the spacecraft to blow it up. I ordinarily only end up doing things like this when I lose interest in sustaining sleep for longer, concerning creating a new dream scenario.
Morning of April 21, 2020. Tuesday. Dream #: 19,482-02. Reading time (optimized): 2 min. This dream is a typical random summoning type in instinctual mode, not much different as those from early childhood on, though in this one, I atypically abandon the usual vestibular system correlation in the last scene to remain in my dream (though there is no drop anticipation other than a lesser form stemming from my relaxed arm muscles during sleep, when I release the wrenches with liminal somatosensory integration), though, as a result, my dream self’s perceptual mode becomes incorporeal and non-dimensional, resulting in an exponential decrease in vividness, and I meander in slow flight (about four feet above the street) back through the unknown neighborhood, considering if I should reset my dream and start the narrative again or wake. I decide to wake. The main scene relates to using telekinesis to rapidly summon items into my hand to augment my dream’s imaginary somatosensory dynamics. I do this in an unfamiliar office building with one large room. I mostly summon random items, primarily wrenches of different sizes, an association with adjusting sleep-wake management. I have an association with gold coins to augment the process. However, as an incidental influence from having seen “Outer Banks” recently, a small gold bar (about the same size as in the Netflix series) quickly jumps into my hand from underneath papers strewn on a desk. I maintain a cheerful disposition. Other people are walking around but I do not interact with them. The sleep-wake manager, as an unknown male, enters my dream’s narrative as a result of a lesser association with the imaginary proprioception of dreaming. (A car is an extension of this, correlating with the imaginary physical body and its dynamics while dreaming.) I get into a car with him driving and my dream vivifies, with an increase in imaginary proprioception. I sit in the front while others sit in the back. It is assumed to be occurring in America, as the driver’s side is on the left. We travel through an unfamiliar neighborhood and I have no destination in mind (and not much of my waking-life identity is extant). After a time, I instinctually play around with the process. I give the sleep-wake manager the wrenches I had summoned. (I often hold a vertical bar of the bed’s head while sleeping, which increases the somatosensory dynamics of the dream state.) However, they fall through a narrow space between the front seats. I give him my gold bar. I phase from the car, losing my sense of imaginary proprioception and defined illusory physicality as I remain in my dream in incorporeal non-dimensional flight for a few minutes as described earlier. There are variations of the process. I sometimes phase through the roof of a vehicle, though I phased through the door in this instance. Phasing from the roof to fly is more likely to vivify a dream, though in one recent dream, I stayed on a bus as it dropped a full story to a perpendicular street below, vivifying and sustaining my dream for several minutes.
Morning of April 18, 2020. Saturday. Dream #: 19,479-03. Reading time (optimized): 2 min 15 sec. My imagined dream self becomes instinctually aware of my dream beginning, including a viable thread of waking-life identity. As a result, the first rendering is a female form close to my left, modeling the sleeping orientation of Zsuzsanna and me, though she remains standing while I remain seated in a cross-legged position. She is a short distance closer to the wayside of an unknown road than I am. It seems to be nighttime. On the other side of the road, off to the right, is an unfamiliar business building. Feelings of cheerfulness and peace remain throughout my dream. (The eventual sleep-wake personification, firstly as an association with imaginary proprioception, is not intrusive other than wanting me to move from the side of the road to return to slow-wave sleep). Instinctual dynamics of dream state management begin. On my lap is an open sheet music book, though the sheet music displayed is unknown. Upon that is a tablet with another one atop it. The first features equidistant thumbnails from a web site, mostly of random people, and the second displays a blank screen. Atop the tablets is an open A4 spiral notebook with my handwriting describing dream content as well as equations. The inference is that I am solving equations using the sheet music book (mainly the arrangement of notes) and the web page thumbnails, which supposedly link to the content of previous dreams and six-digit numbers that serve as markers. The first calculation produces an image of the ocean on the previously blank screen, though it is a small strip, oriented lengthways near the top of the screen. The second calculation results in an additional lengthways photograph of the ocean, and I am fascinated when it matches perfectly with the first when adjacent to the right side of the previous image. Although the image never moves, there is still the fundamental liminal impression that it defines my status of being asleep and the absence of physical demarcation. I start to consider what will happen when the strips fill the entire top of the screen. They will probably continue to a new row. This identification and anticipation results in the summoning of imaginary proprioception and latent physical preparedness (which usually begins around this part of a dream’s timeline, though here, there is no anticipation of vestibular system ambiguity from the lack of discernment of physicality while sleeping). The sleep-wake personification initiates from my right. An unknown man drives a Ford Model T Convertible into the area on the other side of the road. (Cars, as with all vehicles, typically correlate with the imaginary physicality of the dream state or preparation for wakefulness with emerging physical awareness and mobility potential.) He cheerfully calls out, implying I am blocking his way even though I am not on the road. (This scenario is also co-occurrent with how I am sleeping close to Zsuzsanna, as the other man is a preconscious personification of my potential consciousness and emerging physical awareness. This same causal factor has occurred in many previous dreams.) I move back a short distance, but the man parks his car near the business building and walks over to my side of the road. He looks at the items in my lap and seems curious about what I am doing. I absentmindedly state, “I’m doing sequences of fractals.” “I can’t even do one,” he says happily, emphasizing “one.”
Morning of April 5, 2020. Sunday. Dream #: 19,466-02. Reading time (optimized): 2 min. This dream is a typical somatosensory-based summoning dream. My waking-life identity is only partially extant (as I am vaguely aware of Zsuzsanna being nearby) but becomes more emergent with the final event. I remain on the porch of the Loomis Street house. (A porch is the result of precursory liminality defining the transition from dream state awareness to the beginning of the waking process.) Generally, I summon eggs from the palm of my hand (trying to force imaginary somatosensory dynamics to vivify my dreaming experience and its tactile illusions) at the beginning of a dream. In contrast, I sometimes focus on summoning coins near the end of a dreaming experience (or the end of my sleep cycle) as they correlate with cognizance (numbers and counting). Despite this being a lifelong lucid practice, it also occurs with precursory liminality as here. I vividly feel two eggs come into existence in my cupped right hand, but they soon crack apart, and I see a green yolk (influence from “Green Eggs and Ham”), finding it amusing. I summon more eggs. There is a purple one and another with a blue yolk. I am eventually aware that my brother-in-law Bob is nearby. At one point, I notice a beautiful bas-relief overhead. It is over a quarter of a sphere. I reach up to touch it. It is the artistic rendering of a puppy (with some other details such as a leafy scroll), and I erroneously associate it with the Rose Street inn. (I use to live above it until 1967 but get it confused with the Loomis Street house in this dream.) Through a porch window, to the north, I notice the house that was on the corner is not there. Instead, there is a lot of digging (and I see at least one bulldozer) going on near a couple of piles of dirt. I talk about this with others. Also, over the sidewalk, there are two upright doorways (about six feet apart) with no door. (This “portal” feature is a traditional dream state exit point, more common in childhood dreams. The digging would be an association with having emerged from slow-wave sleep, especially as I presently live in a corner house though I do not recall where I live in my dream.) My sister-in-law Cindy is in the last scene. I summon a miniature balloon poodle that grows to full size. Other balloon animals arise from out of nowhere (growing over time), including an elephant. The last two balloons arise. One is an orange giraffe. The other is a yellow life-size representation of my middle son (yet I vaguely consider it is Bart Simpson at first). He is facing away from me, towards Cindy. I begin to wake as I tell her who he is. This dream’s typical compartmentalized false memories are quite ambiguous. (For example, despite not remembering Bob and Cindy had died or what country I live in, I still recall my middle son, though he is nothing like Bart Simpson’s fictitious persona.)
Morning of April 5, 2020. Sunday. Dream #: 19,466-05. Reading time (optimized): 2 min. Halfway into my sleep cycle, the Naiad factor emerges again (the process occurring similarly through most sleep cycles for over 50 years), though not with lucidity or even liminality. It becomes part of an ambiguous, surreal situation that mediates cognizance out of what would otherwise be water reinduction (virtual melatonin mediation that water dynamics represent). Such a dream (and its familiar ultradian rhythm curve) would only occur near the middle of my sleep cycle. It transitions into me dominating the precursory preconscious mechanism, in a typical farcical play. The personifications of this process are two unknown young males rather than Naiads. The setting has the typical indoor-outdoor ambiguity. There are three rock pools about ten feet apart, with the inference of an outdoor park but inside a bigger version of the Loomis Street house (irrelevant since 1994). I watch unrealistically tiny fish swim around (typical for this type of ultradian rhythm curve). Despite being in a false version of the Loomis Street house, synaptic gating temporarily allows me to recall Zsuzsanna (though not any recall of Australia). Other than a focus on typical water lowering dynamics (less virtual melatonin), some reinduction dynamics emerge. The process correlates with a backstory that the city council declares that the water is “acidic” (perceived as less than seven hours of sleep having passed). As a result, the mediation factor shifts my dreaming experience. I am now near a couch (instinctual awareness of being asleep). Water rises to the seat of the couch, though only inside it. Water also rises to the highest level of the rock pools. I know the city council is doing this. A pipe connects to each arm of the couch (though I never see one) and under the floor to the rock pools. The rising water stops slightly above the couch seat. I suddenly falsely remember that my comic books are inside the couch’s storage area. I lift the seat, and there are three stacks of comic books spanning the full width (which would incorrectly imply it has a very short width). I feel the wetness at the top of the first stack only, taking all three stacks and placing them in another part of the room, which is now the Cubitis living room (irrelevant since 1978). Even though my comic books are mostly dry and okay, the scene shifts where I shout humorously (without anger) at two unknown young men who remain passive and lean back against a wall. (Indoor-outdoor ambiguity becomes an attribute again, and even though I am in a house, a landscape is visible beyond.) I tell them they ruined “hundreds of dollar’s worth of comic books.” The communication (including “hundreds of dollars” as a thread of cognitive arousal, as it involves the perception of numbers) correlates with the typical mechanism of melatonin increase suppressing wakefulness, that is, the ability to read as represented by the comic books being in water within a dream signification as the couch. These same factors unfolded in hundreds of previous dreams in unique ways.)
Morning of March 27, 2020. Friday. Dream #: 19,457-02. Reading time: 2 min 24 sec. In this dream, part of my immediate waking-life identity meanders. Although I recall factors of real life (mostly only that I have a family, not where I live as is often the case) in the second section after the preconscious initiation (a typical unknown intrusive male), the setting remains ambiguous. The preconscious personification (sleep-wake mediator) activates atypically in the middle of my sleep cycle. I am near the center of a large, mostly featureless room with many other people. When cognitive arousal initiates, I have a pile of books next to me on my right (potential waking orientation as I sleep on my left side) as I sit on the floor. The man comes over to me, claiming I have a book I am not supposed to have, due to copyright reasons. It is a blank sheet music book for writing music. The publisher’s name is Fabergé. I argue with him for a few minutes, saying his claim is ridiculous because it is just a blank sheet music book (so I am denying cognizance while sleeping as well as ignoring the preconscious). I soon see him sitting with an unknown man. As a result of suppressing cognizance modulation to sleep longer, water reinduction (virtual melatonin mediation) occurs. I am in the small upstairs bathroom of the King Street mansion (irrelevant since the 1990s) in Wisconsin, though it is erroneously on the first floor and has a crawlspace beneath. I take a dream journal (from the late 1990s) from being tied with a cloth to a horizontal pipe near the baseboard and water sprays out. I am unsure how to stop the leak, as I do not want my book to get wet. Water is rushing under the floor, so I have to go outside to check. I consider calling our landlord. (I think of our present landlord in Australia, validating my dream initiated a thread for the emergence of partial recall, though the real-life leak was under Zsuzsanna’s sister’s house recently.) I now recall I have a family, though the setting is still wrong. When I go outside to check the leak, I am looking at a variation of the Cubitis house in Florida (irrelevant since 1978, so setting changes are not always in chronological order as water reinduction is opposite to the directive of emergence). The nature and layout of the scene have changed, and the leak is far from where the original orientation would correlate. There are two leaks from a long horizontal pipe unrealistically situated outside, about two feet from the ground and a few feet from the front of the other part of the house, though coming from the south wall of my Cubitis bedroom, implying its location has replaced the small King Street bathroom (typical errors in dream continuity as the Cubitis house had no crawlspace and the King Street house’s bathroom, again, was on the second floor). However, the leaks soon stop due to a bubble growing around the connections, keeping the water inside. Eventually, two big irregular bubbles shaped somewhat like hourglasses (temporality reference implying water reinduction is ending), float up from the pipes. I no longer see any leaks. Precursory cognizance kicks in again with the general reference to the condition of the sun (analogous to the lack of true identity and cognizance in the dream state). Zsuzsanna is with me outside. We are still erroneously in Cubitis, in the front yard. I see that the “sun” looks like Earth floating within a frying egg, though its lower right area is spreading out in an irregular form as if the egg is runny.
Morning of March 24, 2020. Tuesday. Dream #: 19,454-02. Reading time: 2 min 40 sec. Surreal distortions and unique false memory constructs integrate with the routine dreaming processes in the standard order, with mostly a passive narrative (predictable preconscious eluding) with typical virtual amnesia. My waking-life identity meanders in and out in this exceptionally long dreaming experience. Instinctual summoning is a factor, but it never emerges into full lucidity, only liminality in the last scene. In the first scene, I am at the false location of La Crosse at the Loomis Street house. The house to its right (also on Loomis Street) when viewed from the street, is fictitiously inhabited by Earl (half-brother on my mother’s side; deceased). Bob (brother-in-law; recently deceased) is present in his house. (I have no recall of their deaths.) I walk several blocks south of Loomis Street (on Sill Street) when I become annoyed at two homeless men walking around in (and possibly living in) my dumpster (that is otherwise mostly empty). At this point, I am aware of Zsuzsanna being to my left. Unknown people are with us. I tell the homeless men to leave, but one of them pushes a big concrete slab against the door, so it cannot be opened (even though dumpsters do not have entry doors like this in real life). I become angrier and tell them that there are shelters for homeless people. They do not seem to want to listen to me as I repeat myself several times. Wall mediation (second stage) becomes viable with a chain-link fence defining the division between dream space and potential liminality (with similar processing dynamics as “An Unexpected Late Night Visit” from March 17). The homeless men are now in someone’s front yard on the other side of the fence. I summon a gun and shoot one of them. He somehow becomes embedded in the fence. I shoot at the other male, but the bullet gets stuck in the fence and does not reach him. (In the March 17 dream, I was in our present home with a sleep-wake mediator outside of our fence. Earlier, I deliberately hung a scarecrow on the fence. Also, I threatened to use a gun but did not.) Processing dynamics and instinctual elements meander, and as a result, I suddenly consider I may have committed a crime. I walk briskly with Zsuzsanna and the unknown people east down Sill Street to be out of sight in case the police arrive. I had left the gun behind and suddenly consider my fingerprints might have been on it. I return to the invalid construct of the houses on Loomis Street. Even though Bob and Earl are still standing around, the houses are missing. Only sunken foundations are left. I decide to run to the King Street mansion with the expectation of a portal in the middle room on the east side (second floor). My waking-life identity is gone again. After going through the portal in the big closet nearest the entry door, I am technically in the same world but phased to be invisible and intangible. I walk past police who are talking to the King Street landlady. They ask her about my whereabouts and in what organizations I had been. I fly and phase through buildings, going north. Instinct triggers typical subliminal awareness of being in bed. I find myself on the side of a mountain with an unknown female (probably Zsuzsanna in my absent waking-life identity). I am under a blanket with her as she sleeps. She rolls over and seems to see me, and I am somewhat surprised. “Oh, you can see me?” I ask. In a vivid offset dream, I am high above an unknown city. Instead of flying, I leap about ten feet from one ledge to another (along its length) and kick over small stacks of books that are in my way so that most fall from the narrow walkway. There does not seem to be enough imaginary proprioception or emerging physical awareness to trigger a myoclonic jerk as otherwise near the beginning of every sleep cycle.
Morning of March 17, 2020. Tuesday. Dream #: 19,447-02. Reading time (optimized): 3 min. Dream sequence 1 is predictable sleep-wake mediation of emerging liminality stemming from my instinctual recognition that dream state physicality is not real. An imaginary fence defines my skewed perception of potential liminality as a virtual barrier between sleep and consciousness. In this instance of the usual process, my dream incorrectly establishes that it is Halloween (an incidental association with the false identity of the dream state). Another error (to stop waking-life agreement) is that the fence on the west side of our house is not a solid wall. The events occur late at night. At this point, precursory liminality allows for my recall of Zsuzsanna (though the recall we have children initiates later in my dream). Additionally, as a result of the dynamics of this process, I have a viable recall of where I live in waking life (rather than the usual false setting). I am setting up a scarecrow, using some of my clothes, as a Halloween decoration. It is on the inside of our fence near the northwest corner. It is my instinctual analogy of validating my dream state physicality as false but still as a precursor to potential physical discernment. (A scarecrow has occurred as this signification in previous dreams, though statues and dolls are more common.) Dream sequence 2 is further activation of the foundational process as previously described and explained. It stems from physicality becoming a more emergent factor but also inclusive of disguised recall that I have a young daughter. As a result, an unfamiliar black girl (of about seven years of age) stands to the left of the outside of our front gate (from our porch’s viewpoint) where the mailbox is in reality (though it is not present in my dream). (Being near the mailbox location, despite its erroneous absence, is a factor of sleep-wake communication or, assuming enigmatic space is overlapping into my dream space, transpersonal communication, probably from our daughter.) She aggressively shakes the vertical bars of the fence, making an incredible racket. I tell her to stop, but she continues. “I’m going to get my gun,” I say through our open front door, though I am not serious. I want the unknown child to go away even though her presence is the result of deliberate summoning to vivify my dream, which it does, exponentially. (A gun is typically the result of the fictitious dream self attempting to maintain an illusion in contrast to the reticular activating system initiating, which is otherwise the natural progression of sleep-wake transitioning.) The child does not leave. I turn left to ask Zsuzsanna where the gun is. (Zsuzsanna sleeps on my left.) I have the false recall that I own a gun and that it might be on the DVD player (association with imagination, correlating with watching movies). The girl eventually leaves but comes back with her father. Dream sequence 3 establishes that emerging liminality changes the direction of my dream. The girl and her father are in our lounge room. At first, I see it as an intrusion. My dreaming status resets and loops with different events five times. In the third loop, there are about five members of the girl’s family entering our home, including her mother and an older sister. I am puzzled and ask them how they are doing this. One of them points at the outside of our front door, and I see that there is a silver key in the door’s barrel lock. Still, at this point, my dream has reset again, and the family is only now arriving on our porch. Suddenly, I recall that I have a young daughter (which eventually unlocks recall I have additional children). I think she might like to meet the unknown girl. I no longer see the people as intruders even though I did not ask them in. I look around, but I cannot find her. I ask family members where she is. Dream sequence 4 is the fourth form of liminality mediation when the unnamed man sits down on our couch to watch television. I notice that, as he is sitting down, a much older man than him on the television screen is sitting down, mirroring his actions, though he has a white beard while the man in our lounge room has no beard. I find this amusing, but I do not comment on it. The man on television, with his short white beard, correlates with my waking-life identity, triggering my waking. Overall, this is the same preconscious template as in thousands of previous dreams.
Morning of March 13, 2020. Friday. Dream #: 19,443-02. Reading time (optimized): 2 min. In this dream, American actor Vic Tayback (as Mel from the television sitcom “Alice,” which I have not seen in over 20 years) randomly serves as the typical sleep-wake mediator (personified preconscious) without much focus on his identity. Instinctual awareness (and control) of the nature of dreaming processes for the usual transitions is viably willful, though there is no lucidity. My dream was influenced by “The Truth About Spring” (1965) though only in the association with sailing and nothing else. (Zsuzsanna and I watched this movie before bedtime.) Despite this influence, my waking-life identity is absent, and the setting is a variation of the King Street area in Wisconsin though incorrectly integrated with docks near the ocean so that the streets are instead water channels. Vic is the captain of a sailboat. Several unfamiliar people are present to where there is not much room to stand. The boat’s mooring is at the foot of the stairs. It is a wooden staircase (fictitious feature) of about six steps outside in front of the King Street mansion. I carry a small cylindrical container with one of Vic’s front teeth in it (the reason unknown). There is a cabin, but it seems too small for anyone to use. I throw two pillows onto the deck (instinctual awareness I am sleeping), but I go into the house, as I believe the boat’s large square sail is in my room upstairs, in this case, the middle room of the east side of the house. Although my act of walking upstairs does not seem to occur (as it is more like teleportation in this instance), the timing still initiates vivid imaginary proprioception. The sail is in an irregular heap on the floor of my room. I carefully fold it in half as a strong wind moves it about with vivid somatosensory dynamics. My activity seems to last for several minutes and is the most vivid part (as imaginary proprioception usually is). I enjoy the challenge, and after I fold it in half, I fold it again to where the bundle is now only about four feet in length. With minor cognitive arousal, I also have a few paperback books to take to the boat. When I step near the wooden staircase outside, a surreal distortion occurs. The water level near the middle of the steps is somehow about two feet above where the water’s surface near the sailboat is. The impossible dynamics confuse me for a short time. I anticipate the sailboat will move away, and it does. However, after turning at the intersection and moving adjacent to a small maze of piers, it returns (as a result of my instinctual summoning) to where it was, and I step aboard. I wake before anything else occurs. The most interesting factor is my carrying the imaginary “voice” (tooth in the cylindrical container) of the sleep-wake mediator, who is mostly not active in this dream, dominant or otherwise, giving me greater instinctual control of most of the dreaming processes.
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