Blue_Opossum

Morning of August 6, 2017. Sunday.



I am wandering about in Arcadia, looking for someone or something. I am in a state of instinctual dream control, without lucidity.

I am certain that I am looking at a rendering of a real location in Arcadia, as if I was assuming to be looking at a full scale model. It is the south area of Tinsley’s IGA as it was in the early 1970s. Even though I am certain that what I am looking at is “perfect”, there is a line of post office boxes extending out through the parking lot from the building. This post office wall is missing the post office box doors so as one can look directly through the structure. It does not seem wrong to me at all despite the odd distortion.

My mind wanders to thoughts of former schoolmates and neighbors, but there is not much cohesiveness.

Looking through a restaurant window, I notice a female of about thirty sitting at a round table. I am certain this is my former neighbor. Also present is an unfamiliar male and young boy who I think might be her husband and son. She notices me and comes out to the front of the restaurant. When I talk to her, she says she does not know me. She says, “My name is Angel”. I start to consider that she had changed her name so as never to be associated with me later on in life, which does not really bother me (even though I do not yet have any viable current conscious self memory).

An unknown young male is soon present and says, “Your obsessions with each other in youth no longer have any purpose.”

Somewhat annoyed by this imposing stranger, I vertically twirl my middle finger. Over time, a white tornado descends into the parking lot, coming down directly upon me, but posing no threat. (I watch it form from the beginning, as clouds begin to slowly spiral in the sky above.) Other people are tossed out of its path and yet I find it amusing that others might think it could pose a threat and I consider they are jumping out of the way on purpose without realizing what it really is. I then allow the tip of the tornado to enter my mouth.

“Don’t eat that,” advises someone a few minutes later. The tornado remains white and fluffy. I continue to remain in the area, not remotely impressed by the essence of the tornado, realizing that I create the patterns of weather. (Again, no lucidity is present - only subliminal threads of knowing I am the creator of it, yet not realizing or remembering what a dream is.)

I eat a lot of the tornado as its form continues downward, and it has a mix of bread and mild chocolate flavor. Again, someone else says that I should not be eating the tornado. I notice that some of what I had been eating is more like a cottony rope and I spit some of it out. I decide that I may not eat any more even though I was going to just to annoy any strangers who thought I should not.

Alec Baldwin, the actor, probably about forty, comes along and looks down cheerfully at the remains of the tornado. “I’ll eat that,” he happily says. I embrace my wife Zsuzsanna and we walk off together, though I still do not catch on that I am in the dream state even after eating most of a tornado.

---

Optimized 1 minute 30 second read.

Saturday morning, 5 August 2017.

Walking in Northside La Crosse (features Silas Weir Mitchell)

Dream # 18,492-02.





There are a few repeating scenes where I walk west in daylight down a sidewalk on Sill Street, on the south side of it, in La Crosse, Wisconsin. I had turned right at Loomis Street and am near the intersection at Wood Street.

I am nude except for a blanket hanging down, wrapped around my shoulders. I feel no embarrassment or sense of displacement.

At times, I see the actor Silas Weir Mitchell walking on the opposite side of the street, about a quarter of a block behind me. He appears to be happy, but we do not meet. I get the impression he knows I am only out for a walk to pick up something to take back to the Loomis Street house (even though my dream self does not focus on what it might be).

I consider checking the contents of a green dipsy dumpster in the parking lot of a Country Kitchen restaurant (not a real-world setting). I wonder if it might contain something valuable someone had discarded. Instead of going near it, I circle it from a distance and return to where I was.

Because I am "walking with intent," I sense there are many other people in the area even though I do not see them. Silas does not appear in this location.

---

Causality details:

The names Silas and Sill underlie a typical dream state hodgepodge, both beginning with "Sil." I do not corrupt this detail by pretending it has "meaning," only television influence.

Celebrities occur in my dreams as personified protoconsciousness primarily because dreaming encompasses a similar state of sensory deprivation as watching television in waking life, with minimal attentiveness to my real-world physicality, cognizance, and immediate environment.

Ultimately, that is also why "walking with intent" sometimes brings about the sense of having an invisible audience, associating the dream state with being in a television broadcast or movie.

Minimal "slope navigation" occurs in the parking lot scene caused by my vestibular-motor response to REM sleep. A parking lot corresponds with a lucid thread signifying a stage of liminality between dreaming and waking, similar to what it represents in real life.

---

Morning of August 4, 2017. Friday.



In my dream, I am apparently living in the middle apartment of the east side of the second floor of the King Street boarding house, an impressive mansion that was part of a tour, but not that great on the inside.

Still, it seems that an unfamiliar male has taken residence in this apartment. I am not fully sure of what the situation is, though I do know that I am a vampire. That is, I am a pretend vampire for a time, and I am using some sort of technology to exist as such. The technology is apparently unseen by the “real” world I live in. (It is of a lifelong recurring theme of using invisible technology that exists in another dimension to bring about whatever is to occur in my dream, though which I usually incorrectly see as being my real world.)

I show this male and a couple of his visitors how I have fangs and how I can levitate. There is an unknown male with me, though I eventually assume that he is my friend Eddie. We both seem to be about twenty-five years old. Eddie cannot seem to decide if he looks the most like Christian Slater or Stephen Geoffreys and consequently acts like both in an overacting vampire pretense. He seems amused by our act but eventually does not say much other than agree with my own pretense, which is more serious. We are wearing cloaks and are ready to fly through the night sky of La Crosse.

Time seems to have passed and I am now seemingly on my own, flying in an unknown region, seemingly late at night.

I see the preconscious below, walking along with an unknown friend, an unfamiliar male of about the same age. I decide to fly down and see what is going on.

The preconscious, an unknown male of perhaps thirty or more, seems happy to see me, but he tells me that my flight did not look as if I had been flying regularly. I do not get angry, as I know it is an illusion anyway, though which he does not perceive as such. His friend wants to see my fangs, and I will them to grow out.

He has a gift for me. It is supposedly my favorite food; a bunch of “stone grapes”, from a supposedly very rare plant, which looks like a normal bunch of grapes other than being thorny and more woody and having no discernible grapes on it, only small seed-like features that are very crunchy. I put it up to my mouth and eat the entire bunch, feeling my teeth gnaw through it, but I do not taste anything other than a slight tree-bark flavor. I know that no human being could eat this, but it is apparently a very thoughtful gift and I thank him. Still, I know that this hidden technology of mine (which is phased within another dimension, only operable by me) only makes it look like it has gone past my teeth and into the back of my mouth to swallow. He does not realize this. He does not know that it phases out of existence once it goes past my teeth. There is no way I could have actually eaten anything like this anyway, but I do not want him to be disappointed or disrupt his faith regarding his belief in vampires, or cease to trust me in my vampire guise.

He kisses me lightly on the right temple, in affirmation of a long-term friendship, and I wonder if I am just a creature to show off to a friend of his every now and then, perhaps once or twice every several years. Apparently, being friends with a vampire like me has given him a status of bravery and strength, but I consider if I am seen as just a “pet” to brag about knowing. Still, I hold no anger.

---

Morning of August 4, 2017. Friday.



I am not of my conscious self, though there are a few threads in which I am aware of a few facets of my identity. I am not sure of my implied age; perhaps it is only about twenty. Mostly, I am only aware of my mother. My mother has recently died. However, I think I can talk with her by initiating some sort of will.

The scene is distorted and my memory is askew. My mother is in the baby cot of our present address, though the baby cot unrealistically accommodates her full height. I do not see it as my present address (even though it is) as I have no discernible memory of my conscious self’s present living location. I speak to her, trying to will her eyes to open, on thought alone. It seems to work at times, but is she really okay with this act, or is she angry at me for “waking” her? Holding her eyes open by my mental will alone eventually seems a bit strange.

I go into a room that might be considered to be my room in Cubitis, last seen in 1978, although I have no memory or viable association with Cubits and the room is different anyway. I realize that keeping my mother’s remains in the box from the Barnabas Collins “Dark Shadows” board game is proving to be problematic. I do not even consider that, realistically, my mother would never have fit in this little pretend coffin of cardboard. By way of a false memory, I know that other people are known to keep the bodies of the deceased around their house. It is not unusual; it is a tradition, and yet, a part of my mother’s remains have leaked from the bottom of the box, like acid from an old battery, reminding me of my Kenner Easy-Show movie projector being ruined by leaking batteries so that I could no longer repeatedly watch the same short Thor and Flintstones cartoons on my Cubitis bedroom’s south wall. (My mother had told me to throw out my movie projector, which had been a combined birthday and Christmas gift from my older sister Carol, and to not touch the leaking batteries that had ruined it.)

The gore may be toxic and I am concerned that I had better not eat or touch my face or mouth until I wash my hands, so that no decaying syrupy gore poisons me. I spend a very long time washing and rinsing my hands under the bathtub faucet. The light is bright and I am actually in our present home, though I am not my conscious self and I have no clue to my real life status. I still have to find a place for the Barnabas Collins cardboard container with the plastic lid, which contains my mother’s remains, even though it is just a little box. I have to bury it somewhere. It is in too poor a condition to keep in the open now.

There is some sort of temporary offset dream, where I find myself living on Barolin Street. Two unfamiliar men seem to think that I have taken their truck. They come in through the back way without even knocking. Apparently, the truck was at the front of my house. I certainly did not steal it. I was not even aware of it. These imposers annoy me. They come back a second time as if I had put it back and taken it again. I certainly had not taken it and tell them so. I do not even know what it looks like.

I have to take care of my mother’s remains in the little Barnabas Collins “Dark Shadows” coffin. Her whole body somehow fits in there, with room to spare. She is on her back in this toy coffin from a board game that I had not seen in real life for many years. I decide to bury it inside a set of concrete steps in the Loomis Street backyard, which is also somehow the Cubitis front yard at the same time. The small set of steps does not go anywhere in particular.

For seemingly a long time, as long as it took me to wash my hands, I dig with my hands in the sand. I feel the sand flowing through my fingers. I do not question how a step in a set of concrete steps could be or become sand, but this is where I will bury the toy coffin.

I dig and dig with my hands, and the oblong hole keeps filling back up, not being quite deep enough for burial. Still, I persist with confidence.

The concrete steps have somehow separated, and have transformed into, or have always been, small cardboard boxes of mostly paperback Gothic novels. The area of the ground I had been digging in looks untouched, and it is now normal soil. Will this work out?

---

Morning of August 2, 2017. Wednesday.



Actor Jensen Ackles features as my dream’s only known character but my dream self does not associate him either as an actor or as the Dean Winchester character from “Supernatural”. He drives for a short time and parks his car. He remains cheerful and is not involved in any of the mishaps. He watches the strange traffic events for a time.

I am in an unknown area looking at an unfamiliar street. There is a vague association with the Loomis and Gillette Street intersection in La Crosse.

I see a car that seems to be a replica of a Ford Model A. I expect another car to crash into it but this does not happen. Instead, the car inexplicably turns onto its side yet is still somehow moving through the traffic as such with no apparent surprise or concern from the unfamiliar driver. This event puzzles me.

Eventually, when I expect other cars to have mishaps, they do. At one point, someone drives their car on the external wall of an apartment building, about halfway up, defying gravity, and likely trying to get past the chaotic events on the street. It moves along horizontally with its wheels somehow remaining on the external wall.

In the last scene, I try to summon a car by will, knowing it will be mine. I see a white van, but I am not sure I want it to become mine, as I am envisioning a fancy car to show off to a few unfamiliar dream characters who are standing around near the curb. After some strange cars go by at times, some of them missing major parts, I eventually get into one when it stops. It turns out to be a 1940s Roadster that is only about half of its correct size. When I am in it, I can barely fit, but I still drive along until I wake.

---

• I know this dream is unrelated to waking life for a number of reasons. Firstly, it is of a type of dream I have experienced since childhood and which stems from my interest in demolition derbies. This dream type also always occurs with a specific subtle form of lucidity, and the understanding of causing events with anticipation or focused expectation. It occurs when my dream self is unaware of being in the dream state, yet a subliminal thread of my conscious self identity understands that it is a dream, and thus is obviously focused on the nature and response of the dream state rather than waking life.
• The summoning intent and understanding in the last scene is typically more a factor of semi-lucidity and full lucidity, though I am closer to waking in this case.
• Jensen Ackles is the personified RAS precursor here, but does not become active, as my dream self subliminally initiates the waking transition.
• In many of my non-lucid dreams since childhood, cars are often too small for me to get into. A car in my dreams is typically an autosymbolic rendering of my real physical body as subliminally perceived in sleep, so as a result, the attempt of getting in a car creates a factor of ambiguity. That is evidenced here when a car still moves about on its side to indicate a connection to the fact that I am sleeping on my side at the time.
• This dream type, in which very little of my conscious self identity is extant, is more likely to hold more of the factor of instinctual dream control, which validates that dreams are more about the level of unconsciousness and the dream state itself than waking life (other than when prescient or as a literal carryover from waking life).
• An intersection is autosymbolism for neural gating in the dream state, metaphorically representing the choices of either continuing the dream or waking. Typically, as here, the street representing the direction of sustained dreaming is more likely to have dream-based autosymbolism (the car on its side as a reference of me sleeping on my side).

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Morning of August 2, 2017. Wednesday.



I am with my wife Zsuzsanna. We are with several unknown people. In the first scenario, we are in some soft of unusual park. There is an unfamiliar female, dressed somewhat like a carnival fortune teller, who supposedly understands things about rare creatures in the area as well as how to use certain herbs for health. Still, there is a point at which I decide to leave with the others without any of us really interacting with her. She tells me about how I had changed my mind about asking her something after I already gained my own information about something. It is not really patronizing; just an observation, I think.

I had taken the remains of two witch snakes that had died of natural causes. They are mostly like a snake other than having the miniature head of a Halloween witch. There is a painting of one in some sort of brochure, which I mention is not realistic because the head does not look right, being too cylindrical. An unknown male seems to have a different opinion, claiming that is how they look when alive.

I take the fangs out of the upper part of their mouths, though I arrange them as pointing upwards, front down on a surface. Each creature has three teeth, it seems, though I first think that there had been four. It seems that another male might have lost a couple when the surface was tilted, and they slid off, but after there seemingly being at least one with four teeth, it looks like only three from each. I mention how it seems that one witch snake was older when it died, due to its fang-like teeth being cracked (with thin lines) vertically, in the back.

Our group ends up walking in an unknown area, though it eventually resembles the grounds of my old middle school in Florida on the north end. I talk about how each tooth could be sold to superstitious people as some sort of object for healing. This seems amusing to me and I think I might be able to make a lot of money but then I consider that people might only be willing to pay twenty dollars each as another male gives advice and seems to agree.

I then talk about how we can create the “same” fangs to have a potential to make more money. I mention how if dirt is placed in the mouth of a clam that a tooth would grow from that location. (This is actually some sort of distorted memory relating to how pearls are formed in oysters. There is probably also a second layer of distortion based on the phrase “pearly whites”, referring to teeth.)

---

Morning of August 1, 2017. Tuesday.

Dream #: 18,488-02. Reading Time (optimized): 2 min.



I am with several people on an unusual little island at night. I walk around in a paved area. A small canal divides most of the island about one-quarter in from the side opposite of where I stand. There is at least one big brick building that blocks my view of the ocean on my right.

Zsuzsanna and our youngest son are eventually with me. We go over to the canal. I notice that the ocean on the opposite side of the island, which I can now clearly see, has whitecaps (though I do not focus as much on the waves on my left side). An unknown girl talks about it publicly, relaying a concern that makes me consider if the waves could eventually cover the island. The island’s isolation contributes to this concern but not for long.

I look into the depths of the canal and see a shadowy shape that I soon see is a shark of about four feet long. I tell Zsuzsanna and our son to watch, and we cheerfully look into the water. I soon notice other small sharks as well as a little dolphin, which is surprising, as they do not fight. They do not look real and make me think indirectly of CGI. We share amusement in watching these creatures in addition to several tiny fish. The more active area of the ocean remains off to my right, behind the big building, but some of it is still visible through the end of the canal and surrounding area.

---

Zsuzsanna remains on my left, correlating with our sleeping positions. Additionally, this is one of many dreams that lack definition or attention to my left in contrast to a clear focus to my right, which is subliminal wakefulness anticipation (as I sleep on my left side, my right more exposed to my environment correlating in the dream state with its concurrent monitoring).

For over 50 years, water has been a consistent factor of natural melatonin mediation and ultradian and circadian rhythm in correlation with my sleep cycle. The unknown girl is a subliminal reminder of the Naiad factor from high-level dream state induction, though here has transitioned to the RAS (reticular activating system) mediation stage. She is “warning” me about the high waves, a warning about not sleeping too long, the island being the dream state.

I was aware that I was at least partly responsible for creating the ocean creatures, but with no dream state realization. The eradication of the unintelligent hype equating lucid dreaming with dream control is necessary to understand the processes and dynamics of awareness in all modes of dream space. The ambiguity of whether they should be sharks or dolphins (with both appearing without incident) reflects the dual nature of RAS mediation and simulacra transitions, from REM and non-REM sleep induction to consciousness reinitiation.

---

Zsuzsanna had a dream with the same content in the same period, including the CGI association with ocean creatures. It happens regularly, with too much matching detail to be coincidental.

---

Morning of July 29, 2017. Saturday.



[I am within my dream state, unaware of being asleep, yet with most of my conscious self identity extant. Still, towards the higher end of REM, my neural energies begin to grow. I associate them with plants, just as nerve roots seem analogous to the roots of plants. The play on “garden bed” also seems present.]

My wife Zsuzsanna remains to my left as I explore an area of our garden that I had somehow not been aware of until this moment. There are two rows of unknown plants, about nine clusters in each row, that are about two feet in height at the most. Over time, Zsuzsanna tells me about the flowers on them after I first assume them to be some sort of vegetable.

[My wife is also to my left as we sleep. The patterns of my neural energies are not consistent within the dream state. This is the biological nature of sleeping and dreaming. Some newly activate and grow symbolically like a plant; symbolism of which I validated in the 1980s; some cease to be viable.]

Around the area of where the fifth group of plants are in the row on my side from my left, I notice a few clusters that are wilted and almost horizontal to the ground, leaning to the right. I feel annoyed and I consider that the seeds had been too close together when sprouting.

[Critical thinking skills are mainly nonexistent in the dream state. Such neural patterns would bring too much clarity to remain in the dream state. Still - I consider a different way that my neural patterns could be more viable in analogy. The vague oscillations of neural energy that I become aware of manifest as Christmas beetles that the plants are actually growing from within the flowers, insects being a more tangible form of a specific pattern of consciousness than water, yet closer to neural energies that would initiate waking. I do not think it strange that a Christmas bell plant would grow a Christmas beetle, or more specifically, one from each stamen. Each stamen symbolizes each dendrite in my physical mind in real time.]

I see Christmas beetles emerging from the downwardly oriented flowers, these beetles having directly grown from the plants. There are eventually more and more of them. I have no sense of wariness or unpleasantness. In fact, I think I might like to keep them because of their beauty.

[My dream self teleports and is now within our house mostly as it is now, though with minor variations in size and layout. I do not immediately realize that having so many Christmas beetles in the house might prove to be problematic. Too many neural energies brought deeper into the residence of my dream would expand into the waking stage.]

At first, I enjoy having all these Christmas beetles in the house as I watch them in our kitchen and lounge room. However, something in the back of my mind makes me realize that it is not so good an idea. For one thing, they start to buzz, yet the real issue relates to their ability to crawl into anything and everything and spread into various possessions. This is something that I start to consider is not really what I want.

[I have decided that I do not want all of these neural energies within this level of consciousness as it will surely bring about the ascent into whole consciousness if I keep them inside. I consider gathering them up and putting them outside. My dream fades fairly quickly.]

My wife Zsuzsanna, in real life, not that long after my dream, brings attention to some Christmas bell plants I had no idea about. There was no prompt from me, and no way of knowing what had been on her mind previously. This follows the general rule that at least one dream per sleep cycle renders material from her essence and her mind.

---

Morning of July 29, 2017. Saturday.



I am in an unfamiliar house but which eventually takes on at least one feature of our present home in reality; the back porch. Zsuzsanna seems to be present at times, though the characters change in unlikely ways.

The clearest segment is when Leonard, the friendly pinhead I knew on King Street (who I had not seen since 1990), is seated to my right on a couch and an unknown female (of perhaps about twenty years of age) is sitting to my left. It seems the female may be looking after Leonard, who may be about thirty in this situation. She seems to be referring to him as a “shingle”.

Over time, I notice he is crying, especially as I ask him, “Remember when I used to call you Leonard?” Apparently, people do not usually call him by name.

Eventually, my dream’s characters transform without me paying any attention to the change. The unknown female seems to again be more like Zsuzsanna, yet “Leonard” is now my fictional son. He is possibly about twenty years old (even though he was an older Leonard - who did look like Leonard - just moments before). He does not look anything like Leonard now and he does not resemble any of my sons, either.

My “son” punches the wall at about elbow level. It makes a crack that goes all the way up to the ceiling but the wall is not dented. He then punches the wall higher up, which then does make a deep dent as pieces of the wall fall out, but there is not as much of an upward crack this time.

I yell at him to stop and he moves to punch me in my right shoulder as I lie back onto the couch. I do not feel any pain. I do not really feel like hitting him or yelling again.

Finally, I say, “If you want to hit something, go out and hit the boxing bag”. I motion my right hand towards the back of the house. I soon look out through a (fictional) window and see him boxing. (The punching bag setup is of the same appearance as in reality.)

He comes back in and again sits on my right. I notice that he is having some difficulty with a pair of boxing gloves. I see that he is trying to put on a boxing glove over his right hand though he is already wearing a half finger cycle glove on that hand.

I ask him if he would like to take boxing lessons at a paid venue and he nods and seems happy.

He gets up to leave with the female and I realize or “remember” he is simple-minded. His body is of an unusual shape, somewhat like with an elongated beer belly. (I do not drink beer and I do not know anyone who drinks.) I think about how they might be at risk in a parking lot by not knowing how to react to ordinary people who approach them.

---

Reverse engineering my dream in real time:

• My dream self is subliminally aware of being asleep, though there is no viable lucidity. Our bed transmutes into being perceived as a couch by my dream self. Zsuzsanna is still on my left as in reality as we sleep. My viable neural energies decrease and she is an unfamiliar female.
• Leonard appears to my right as a part of potential dream exit symbolism and the preconscious precursor. He is called a “shingle”, which is related to roof symbolism, which relates directly to the level of consciousness between the higher preconscious and the lower emergent consciousness. (There may also be an additional layer that distorts “single” as a play on coalescence waking symbolism.)
• Leonard is now my fictional “son” and no longer looks like Leonard or like any of my sons. In fact, he is my emergent consciousness atypically “trapped” within the preconscious form. This is why he punches the wall, which represents the divisions within levels of consciousness in real time.
• I move back on the couch to subliminally mimic my sleeping position in bed as he hits me on the right shoulder, which is a metaphor for activating the waking prompt (while patting someone on the back near the left shoulder would be a subliminal attempt at reinduction).
• For whatever reason, there is sustained neural activity and I “remember” (though I am still not lucid) that a porch is a common waking transition of liminal space where conflict sometimes occurs to initiate waking (though this is more often with a front porch). Still, it is a rather odd limited thread of increasing awareness, as I still have no knowledge of where I actually live (or much other viable memory yet) other than the boxing bag’s location and appearance.
• I offer to pay for boxing lessons for the preconscious after noticing he is trying to put on boxing gloves yet also already has half finger cycle gloves on, those of which relate to preparatory dream exit symbolism (as a bicycle symbolizes increasing neural energies in real time, associated with the same leg movements as walking up a staircase, which is also related to the emergent consciousness).
• Finally, my dream fades with association with a larger form of liminal space, the parking lot, and I become vaguely aware that these dream characters are not real and so naturally are simple-minded, facing problems in integration with the real world.

---

Early evening of July 27, 2017. Thursday.

Dream #: 8,483-07. Reading time: 1 min 10 sec.



Precursory (vestibular): I enter my dream self’s imaginary physical body and find myself running. I am Grant Williams as Scott Carey in the 1957 movie “The Incredible Shrinking Man.” I am running over the top of a series of cardboard boxes on about the fourth shelf up of a metal utility shelving unit. I am about four inches tall. I do not seem to be running because of a threat, just running along. (“On the shelf” is autosymbolism that is analogous to being in bed. The closed boxes represent the inability to move my body while sleeping, yet I am running on them as I still subliminally perceive my muscularity.)

Virtual witness integration: Zsuzsanna, appearing somewhat like a 1950s actress, is running behind me, though to my left. There is a heightened sense of energy. (This short dream occurred at about 5:30 pm AEST during a nap. Zsuzsanna was in bed with me at the time. She was to my left because she was to my left in bed, and behind me, because I was closer to waking as liminally perceived by my dream self.)

The drop: Soon, I see the scene from an incorporeal viewpoint from the front of the shelving unit. “We” are running from left to right. Grant Williams as Scott Carey as “me,” running at an angle, runs straight off the cardboard box from off the front of the shelf and falls to the floor onto his right side and kicks. Simultaneously, I experience a mild hypnopompic kick and upper back spasm as I realize the residual imagery reflects my sleeping position. (I am looking down at my body.)

---

This July 27, 2017 dream is a fictitious scene from “The Incredible Shrinking Man.” Grant Williams died on July 28, 1985.

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Morning of July 27, 2017. Thursday.



I become aware of being in “my apartment” in the King Street boarding house. (I have not lived there in real life for nearly thirty years.) My bed is on the opposite side of the room as the door.

In actuality, based on the real layout of the King Street boarding house and where I am, “my apartment” in my dream would be the King Street bathroom; the larger bathroom on the west side of the mansion (second floor). Adjacent to the north wall is a composite element, the Cubitis southwest bedroom’s large closet (which in real life was at ground level in a one-storey house).

My dream self has no memory of my current conscious self identity and does not see my location as unusual or mixed up even though it is, as usual, a brand new composite.

I need to use the bathroom. I go over towards the closet and notice one just outside the closet’s left sliding door (but facing the closet). I see that someone else had used it and not flushed. However, I also see that there is soon no water and I lift up the toilet and see there is no pipe or in fact, any sign of plumbing, as if it was just a container to empty elsewhere. This annoys me, as I do not feel like doing this. (I am unsure of where the water went, as there is no sign of a leak anywhere.)

Going into the closet, I see a second toilet, out from the west end. It has also been used by someone else. I consider using it, but then see it is like the first, water lowering but with no plumbing. (In reality, with respect to the mixed-up layout, the King Street toilet would have been in this general location, though both of my dream’s toilets are in incorrect orientation otherwise. The King Street toilet faced south, but the two toilets here face north and east.)

I am aware of an unknown female in the hallway. I am not sure if I should open my door. Still, I do, and she eventually starts to make fun of me for what I had written on a few documents downstairs that are on the chest of drawers in the foyer. These documents are apparently mathematics tests that I had checked and graded recently. I do not have a full understanding of what she is saying, but she does not seem to understand my system of grading or supposedly very clever usage of the language. This “unknown” female is actually my wife Zsuzsanna’s younger half-sister Crystal. However, my dream self does not recognize this fact.

Soon though, I notice my King Street landlady standing just outside my door (and the other female is gone). She is also annoying me by questioning my grading terminology. In particular, she complains about me having written “cooked” on one test I graded. I explain to her that “cooked” is a common word for “finished”, meaning that the test was successfully completed at possibly a hundred percent. I then decide to make fun of her, but I am not sure how. I start to make fun of the word “fantabulous”, but it seems she agrees with me that the word is idiotic and apparently would not use the word either. From here, I wake, having to use the bathroom, with a vague memory of the lyrics to “Wake Up Little Susie“, which I haven’t heard in years.

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This dream contains, intriguingly, six common forms of waking symbolism:

1. Bed recognition waking symbolism (a subliminal awareness that my physical body is in bed and asleep, and as such, is a real-time dream state indicator).
2. Toilet waking symbolism (a biological indicator that I need to wake up and use the bathroom, which is why the toilets in my dream were not usable - and note also that my “bedroom” was in the area where a large bathroom was in real life).
3. Water lowering waking symbolism (a common type of waking symbolism which has several layers of meaning including a biological need to wake and rehydrate).
4. Doorway waking symbolism (the personified preconscious, in this case my landlady from years ago, transmuting into my emergent consciousness due to her beginning to agree with me, is also a type of coalescence waking symbolism, but I only typify it as such when it is a more dominant factor). A doorway typically symbolizes the dream’s exit point, though may also serve as a trigger into lucidity. I first realized this when I was four years old.
5. Alarm clock waking symbolism (subliminal until briefly after hypnopompia).
6. Failed flight waking symbolism (subliminal). As I have already explained hundreds of times since 2004, “failed flight” (and waking symbolism in general) has nothing to do with so-called dream interpretation and is unrelated to real life other than when literally extant (environmental influence) or premonitory (such as my dream of the missing Malaysian flight shortly before it occurred).

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The potential staircase reinduction symbolism remains unused. This is validated by the graded tests being downstairs (deeper into the dream state) and my dream self acknowledging this by saying “finished” (that is, my dream is finishing).

Relevant lines from “Wake Up Little Susie”: “The movie wasn’t so hot, it didn’t have much of a plot” (meaning that my dream was not that involving or interesting); “We fell asleep, our goose is cooked” (failed flight waking symbolism in a very clever “hidden” thread, which has happened many times in the past); “Wake up little Susie”. (Note that my wife goes by Suzi.) The lines “The movie’s over, it’s four o'clock” relate to my dream ending at about four o'clock.

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Morning of July 25, 2017. Tuesday.



I am in an unfamiliar room, though of which may be implied to be of our present home on W Street. There is a miniature two-storey mansion near one wall. Its appearance is unfamiliar. Still, I recognize this dollhouse as a known possession by way of a fictional backstory. It is big for a dollhouse, coming up to about the height of my waist when I am standing, though my viewpoint relevant to its size changes, especially in the last scene of my dream.

I study it for seemingly a long time. I sense the presence of my family but I mainly focus on the rooms of this intriguing miniature house. I also study the outside of it, noting every detail.

The main scene involves looking more closely at the back of the dollhouse as I turn it around, into the rooms on the second floor. There are three windows on the second floor of about the same size. I reach in through a window to turn a light on. The lights in all three rooms come on when I do this. I clearly feel (though cannot see from my position) the miniature light switch as a small bump that I push in the opposite orientation. It seems to be near the top of a flight of stairs.

Eventually, I am aware of an unfamiliar black male to my left. Curiously, I do not see this stranger as an imposer in our home. He seems cheerful. I do not learn his name (or recall it if it was given). He talks a lot, but I cannot discern most of what he is saying. It borders on gibberish, but I do eventually understand some phrases. I know some of it relates to Leonard Bernstein and a certain supposedly rare record album of his.

Looking through the middle window of the dollhouse, I see a small wooden box on the right, its shorter end adjacent to the window. Upon looking closer, I experience joy upon seeing what appear to be a number of copies of “Science Fiction Adventures” arranged vertically and facing the window. (Science Fiction Adventures was an American digest-size science fiction magazine, published from 1952 to 1954 by Science Fiction Publications.) Curiously, they seem to be of normal size (even though this would not be possible to resolve with a conscious viewpoint).

I see the rare record of Leonard Bernstein that the male was talking about. It is in a room on the first floor in the back of the dollhouse, seen through the middle window. Even though it is miniature, it seems it will be of normal size when I give it to him. At this point though, it seems to be (or change into) a thick paperback book. However, he tells me to keep it, as I start to consider that he may be homeless and have no place to keep it or to read or “listen” to it. After trying to get him to accept my gift, he still seems cheerful but declines.

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• While an aquarium (not a feature of this dream but included here for contrast) is a real-time downsized model of the unconscious mind while sleeping, a dollhouse is a real-time downsized model of the conscious mind while sleeping. This is validated by my dream self turning on the three lights (with one switch) in the back of the dollhouse, which symbolizes activating the parietal lobe (somatic sensory association area). This is additionally validated by my augmented sense of touch upon feeling the miniature light switch at this point. Somatic senses are sometimes referred to as somesthetic senses, with the understanding that somesthesis includes the sense of touch, proprioception (sense of position and movement), and (depending on usage) haptic perception. The main difference between a dollhouse and an aquarium is that an aquarium is related more to induction, although typically, less water in an aquarium over time is a transmutation into waking symbolism.
• The supposedly rare Leonard Bernstein record was on the first floor in back of the dollhouse, which would be analogous to the occipital lobe; visual cortex. (PGO waves are a feature of human REM sleep.)
• Additionally, the “Science Fiction Adventures” magazines symbolizes imagination as potentially sourced from within the mind model (as critical thinking skills are only extant when awake).
• This dream’s personified preconscious (the presumably homeless black male) follows the lifelong established rules of this dreaming component. There is no conflict as I have already activated the waking symbolism by turning on the lights (which symbolizes increasing neural activity in real time in the last stage of the waking transition, which also makes my dream more vivid).
• As the lights in the front of the dollhouse on the left of the first floor are not on in most scenes, this may be analogous of the preconscious seemingly speaking gibberish for the most part. (Language processing has been linked to Broca’s area.)
• The miniature light switch is near the top of the stairs (from the first floor); “the top of the stairs” being analogous to the emergent consciousness (a precursor to waking up), as in hundreds of other dreams I have decoded since childhood. (Scott suggests that consciousness “emerges” at the top of a hierarchically ordered nervous system. Scott compares the hierarchy of the nervous system to a flight of stairs or the rungs of a ladder. “Altered Egos: How the Brain Creates the Self”, page 126, sourced from “Stairway to the Mind” by Alwyn Scott.)
• I might assume that the Leonard Bernstein record (though which may be a book in the last scene) is a facet of the transpersonal interconsciousness. The soundwave of a musical recording might be analogous to brainwaves. (By analogy, Leonard Bernstein is a conductor. Different neural activities will produce different brainwave patterns)
• Here is an unexplainable surprise: The personified preconscious in this dream turned out to be of a precognitive thread (This is often the case, but I do not always include it in an online dream journal entry). This “same” black homeless male was across the street from our house later in the day after my dream. (Neither Zsuzsanna nor I approached him.) This is a very rare occurrence and I had never seen him before.

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Morning of July 24, 2017. Monday.



I am firstly not very aware of my dream’s environment (and I do not become lucid at any point). I eventually become aware of being on the outer limits of a dense forest encompassing a small lake or wide stream, seemingly late at night. I am not aware of anyone else in the region yet. I walk around in the semidarkness, uncertain of where I am, though there is no sense of danger. My dream’s setting seems loosely modeled after Mink Slough, where my brother-in-law Bob and I used to fish up until 1990, though never at night.

After a short time, I see a strange event. A car goes flying over the trees away from my viewpoint but eventually falls in another area of the forest.

I enter the forest with uncertainty as to what is going on, but without wariness. I get the impression of my brother-in-law Bob having tossed his car over the trees to get attention, as it seems he was somehow injured while fishing and the flare gun was either too far away for him to reach or he was out of flares.

I find him lying on a blanket on the ground. It appears as if he has been bleeding a lot. It also seems that he may have gotten fish hooks stuck in a few parts of his body, though this detail is not fully discernible.

About five unfamiliar males of about forty years of age emerge from my dream self’s body to offer aid as I remain more at a distance. They approach him. Bob seems somewhat cheerful, but cannot get up. My dream fades from this point as I reason the other males will give him medical attention as well as call an ambulance.

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• Induction form is water induction (most common form as water symbolizes the real-time dynamics of sleeping).
• Dream state symbolism as entering a forest (subliminal reinduction, as it occurs after the implied but precursory waking symbolism of the car in flight).
• Subliminal reinduction resets dream state, no additional waking symbolism, dream is truncated, no emergent consciousness event.
• Biologically premonitory waking symbolism present as an atypical event, partly initiated by subliminal awareness of having more blankets on my body while sleeping.
• Car (symbol of sleeping physical body in this case as it is without a driver) thrown over the forest (very common personal symbol of being in the dream state) as a subliminal annoyance of blanket weight (though it is too cool presently to sleep without them).
• Ambiguous failed flight waking symbolism is present (Bob throwing his car over the trees as analogous to a flare gun and a flare gun would be a potential waking prompt).
• Atypical personified preconscious as uncompleted emergent consciousness precursor, bleeding and lying down in need of aid (rare, though Bob usually appears in this form now).
• Dream state indicator of preconscious lying on ground (analogous to lying in bed) requiring aid (needing to leave the dream state; to coalesce back into whole consciousness).

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Detached threads:

• 1) A human being cannot throw a car through the air, let alone over trees or while bleeding and lying injured on the ground.
• 2) I have not seen Bob in real life since February of 1994 and I am unaware of his present health status (possible precognitive thread present).
• 3) Other dream characters (all unfamiliar males) emerge from my dream self’s body upon me seeing Bob on the ground. Bob does not “return” to my dream self’s body or coalesce in this case that I recall.

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Morning of July 23, 2017. Sunday.

Dream #: 18,479-02. Reading time (optimized): 1 min 30 sec.



I am traveling with Leonard, a pinhead I knew who also lived in the King Street boarding house. He seems younger in my dream than when I knew him in real life, only about twenty years old. (My dream self seems only about twenty as well, which is not logical as he was about twenty years older than me in waking life).

We enter a big unfamiliar boarding house in an unknown location where we may be going to stay. The layout seems more like a public restaurant with at least three sections, but without much furniture. An unfamiliar chubby male of about fifty recognizes Leonard, but he does not know me.

He tells me I will need a Louisiana driver’s license, using the term “for this state” (that may be an instinctual association with being in the dream state). I am unsure why. I think we must be in Louisiana even though I do not think I will be driving. I know I do not have one. However, instinctual dream control becomes a factor. I know if I focus on having a driver’s license, it will appear in my wallet. I pretend I have one, and it exists as I open my wallet. The unknown male confirms it, and I can stay in the building.

Curiously, I end up driving a life-size version of a Hot Wheels Bubble Car of the same kind I had in my youth. It seems to be because the unknown male wanted me to. I may be a test driver. The top, which is like a light plastic dome, does not fully close due to it being partly held up by my height (apparently designed for someone shorter). It is not problematic, but its weight is slightly annoying. Still, I enjoy driving around with no mishaps. The internal orientation seems to correlate somewhat with a Formula One car. Later, I am driving a second car (undetermined) at the request of the unknown male.

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The situation where I am driving the first car seems to be an instinctual awareness of having a heavy blanket over me while sleeping, though I am not uncomfortable. Cars in dreams, especially driving one, stems from imaginary kinaesthesia and the illusory dynamics of physicality while sleeping.

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Morning of July 21, 2017. Friday.



In my last dream of this date, I enter a vivid scene, looking down at two features. There is a small monkey on the left and a miniature wooden Tiki totem pole on the right, both implied to be about the same height but in horizontal positions on an unknown surface.

At first, I assume the monkey has died. However, in the last moments prior to waking, there is a loud “hoo hoo ha ha” sound as the monkey moves his head, firstly looking at the totem pole on his left, appearing to be slightly puzzled, and then rolling to his left side (towards the totem pole). The implied monkey sound echoes out of the residual essence of my dream as I then instinctively make the same movements as the monkey and roll to my left side to become more comfortable (as I was having lower back pain while sleeping on my back, which I do not do very often due to occasional situational apnea).

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Note that in this case, both the monkey and totem pole are lying down as “in bed” (a first-level dream sign, that is, a real-time indicator of being asleep and in the dream state). The orientation of the two features is the same as Zsuzsanna and I as we are sleeping, assuming the resurrected monkey represents my waking and turning over as I perceived it was. Note that the totem pole does not move or come to life, which indicates that my dream self was aware that Zsuzsanna was still asleep while I was waking.

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