Blue_Opossum

Morning of July 15, 2017. Saturday.



My dream starts out on the porch of the Barolin Street house (our previous home of where we have not lived since 2008). This is atypical, as the porch setting, though representing liminal space, is linked to the induction stage rather than the waking transition. As such, it begins to rain (water induction, my most common type, as water symbolizes the real-time dynamics of sleep). I enjoy its essence but I then realize that there are several small stacks of comic books in the north side yard, probably only four or five comic books in each of about nine stacks. Many seem to be Harvey comic books, such as “Casper the Friendly Ghost”. They are arranged in mostly an equidistant pattern (of about six inches apart to each direction) on a very low-set table or thin plywood platform. Zsuzsanna is with me. I realize that I have to run and get them so that they are not ruined.

When I go out into the rain, I feel very good, even though I have to act quickly. Curiously, the books show no signs of getting wet as I gather them. After I take them onto our porch, my dream changes, and there are far less threads of my conscious self identity present.

I now seem to be about eighteen years old or younger. My mother is still alive (and I have absolutely no recall of her having died in 2002). Strangely, even though my brother Earl did not die until November 29, 2007, I perceive him (via a false memory and false backstory) as having died when I was a teenager. (Therefore, my mother being alive in my dream and Earl being deceased is a typical error that dreams make all the time.)

The setting is very sparse in detail and so undefined, there is no discernment of whether it is indoors or outdoors or the typical ambiguous combination that my dream self somehow always perceptually resolves. This “impossible” thinking pattern is not viable when I am fully conscious, and remains a distortion native to the dream state only (though I really cannot understand how this could work despite critical thinking skills not existing in most non-lucid dream types).

My mother is present at times, including the very last scene. I mostly look at various Matchbox Cars. These are ones my brother Earl supposedly owned while living in Cubitis. (Although I still continuously have dreams based on variations of Cubitis, where I have not lived since the summer of 1978, dreaming of Earl’s house in Cubitis, which was only a few houses south of us, is quite rare.) Earl is present in some sort of ghost form, but otherwise appears to be normal, as he was in perhaps the late 1960s. He only looks on at my activities at times.

Yet another error in this dream is that I see Earl as being married to his third wife Cindy in this time period (and she is “still” living in his Cubitis house) rather than his first wife Beverly (and in fact, I have no awareness of him being married to anyone else). His ghost form seems to be a natural result of dying; that is, people die, and then they exist as visible “ghosts”, set apart from the physical world, but otherwise just as they were when alive.

I open a long rectangular cardboard box that is a racing set based on Matchbox Cars. There is a blue racing car that I look at for a short time. I do not think Earl will be angry as I look at his collection.

In the last scene, my mother is nearby. I play around with two blue Matchbox Car pickup trucks that are identical except for the position of the wings of the oversized white chicken sitting in each pickup truck bed. I get the impression it might be meant to be an advertising gimmick (possibly for KFC). One chicken’s wings are out and horizontal while the other’s wings are down and against its body. The chickens also rotate to spin around the pickup truck bed, and I start spinning them prior to waking.

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Although this non-lucid dream is extraordinarily easy to decode the native meaning of as most of my non-lucid dreams are, I will presently only focus on the last amusing segment. Chickens are birds that cannot fly very well, so are a typical example of “failed flight” (a form of “return flight”) waking symbolism. This is not negative and has nothing to do with conscious self “issues” as “dream interpreters” (not a real concept) seem to like to pretend via the Barnum effect. Waking symbolism as such is an indicator of the anticipatory (though subliminal) nature of hypnopompia, which is a biological process. As a result, bird and airplane symbolism (and flying in general) has been extremely common in my dreams since earliest memory, for over fifty years, continuously occurring in over one in five dreams in the tens of thousands I have studied.

In this one, there is even an obvious dream sign play, the pickup truck BED, an indicator of being in the dream state, even more so with the oversized chickens on them. Pairs of birds (of various species) have occurred in a number of my dreams. They represent, in most cases, Zsuzsanna and I sleeping together. They are different in their wing status (and in different pickup trucks) in this case due to Zsuzsanna and I being in different levels of sleep (in real time). My mother as my emergent consciousness is likely a vague association with Zsuzsanna prior to waking (as she is a mother to our children). Beds (sometimes in unusual locations) as real-time dream state indicators are also common in Zsuzsanna’s dreams.

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Morning of July 14, 2017. Friday.



I am in an unknown residence that has a lot of rooms of which are filled with junk that I plan to get rid of. The first setting seems to be a basement (or like a basement), yet is seemingly not underground, though it seems to have a dirt floor at times. There are large long shelves in a number of locations. Much of the junk seems to be parts of picture frames, nails, and documents I no longer need or want.

In one scene, I seem to be in the northernmost (northeast) room of the King Street boarding house, where I have not lived (in reality) in over twenty-five years. The bed is aligned lengthways along the west wall, head to the north (an orientation never utilized in reality). For the first time ever in a dream, my mother (July 14, 1916-October 2, 2002) is associated with the King Street boarding house as living there in my dream. (Although my wife Zsuzsanna and I have been together in many dreams since we met in reality, including as implied to be living in the King Street boarding house even though she has never been to America, I find it astounding upon realizing my mother had never been in this dream setting as far as I presently know.)

I had found an outfit (combined sweater and pants) for my youngest daughter and had brought it into the room. My mother seems angry that someone else had apparently thrown it out but is glad that I had retrieved it for use for my daughter’s benefit.

Later, there seem to be a number of other (unknown) people going through the miscellaneous junk. The actor John Larroquette (as he appeared in the television series “Night Court”) makes an appearance in the final segment. It is mentioned how no one wants most of what is presently sitting about in the large basement-like room.

“In that case, I’ll take these portraits,” he says, picking up two large slightly damaged portraits of himself (which may have originally been left there either by him or someone else).

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Our daughter was somewhat restless this morning. Her clothes appearing in my dream without her was a possible indicator of her being awake while we were sleeping.

My mother seems to be the precursor of my emergent consciousness in this case even though my dream self did not recall that she had died in 2002.

I believe that a dream of cleaning or getting rid of junk is sometimes biological symbolism relating to cellular processes in real time, possibly including a need to get up and use the bathroom.

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The final dream event features coalescence waking symbolism (projected, neutral preconscious). This stems from an analogy with coalescence meditation, of where viewing infinite selves by looking into a mirror on each side is metaphorically resolved as internal unification by then looking forward into the mirror reflecting the one self (in whole consciousness).

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Morning of July 13, 2017. Thursday.



In the beginning of my dream, I somehow carelessly cut my left arm and my right hand on something. There is mild pain. I notice that the cut on my left arm is deep. It is along my left forearm, on the left side when my hand is downwards, and straight over nearly its entire length. Later, I rub on some sort of medicinal cream that is supposed to help seal the cut.

I eventually notice that my cut is dry but open. I can see another layer of skin underneath. There is not much pain anymore, but I am somewhat annoyed at having the cut.

At a later point, my entire left forearm opens up somewhat like a pouch (via the long cut) into a partly hollow space. There is no blood, but there does seem to be sections of tissue and “bone”. My view of it seems magnified, although the inside of it would actually have to be much bigger than in reality to contain what it does. I can still move it about normally. Curiously, I notice about four metal cables coming out from where my elbow would be, which are apparently connected to strips of muscle. I consider that maybe someone had changed my arm into a robotic arm without me knowing about it. There are also at least two glass and metal structures that are shaped like rectangular prisms, the metal strips along the edges and connecting at the vertices.

I find myself in a library (more as if the ambiguous setting suddenly rendered a library counter feature) and I ask a person at the counter to look at my arm. Two people, an unfamiliar male and an unfamiliar female, look at it and comment. According to what I hear after I ask them about what it is made of, it is apparently believed that my arm is normal and that a person’s arm actually does have metal cables and such inside yet is still an organic natural form. I am still puzzled.

Eventually, I start to notice objects within the hollow area closer to my elbow (though still in my forearm). I see about six 3.5" computer disks and about three cassette tapes. They have handwritten labels. I do not take them out. I also see a VHS tape. (Imagine trying to visualize a VHS tape inside your arm with a lot of room to spare, but this is somehow resolved in my dream self’s viewpoint.) I consider that the items may have been left there as some sort of record of the process that was used to change my arm into something robotic.

In the last scene, I go into a hospital to ask about the nature of my arm, but it still seems the arm itself is supposedly normal. Eventually, I see jewelry and a large number of mostly silver coins (possibly American) inside the area closer to my elbow.

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Night of July 10, 2017. Monday.



I am sitting in the darkness of a large unfamiliar rectangular room, never rendered in any previous dream, though my dream self “recognizes” and accepts it as our present home (as is usually the case). There is seemingly no furniture in the room other than the chair I am sitting in and the table that my desktop computer is on. Along the wall I am facing while at my computer are four equidistant doorways with apparent access to most of our house. (I have never been in such a layout in real life and its unusual nature does not trigger any thoughts of it being wrong. The layout is similar to another recent dream and is therefore a carryover, though in the previous dream, of July 2nd, my location in seeing the four adjacent rooms is as if from a featureless hall, and unlike with this dream, there was no awareness of the opposite side of my location.)

As I sit at my computer in the dark room, I contemplate briefly checking Facebook. However, instead of using the bookmark, I start to type out the entire URL. I firstly type out characters that are incorrect (a common dream event as critical thinking is not viable in the dream state), but I eventually “succeed” in typing the MySpace URL, not at all considering that this is not what I had originally intended. Curiously, the incorrectly spelled previous links bring me to webpages that seem like partial pieces of the actual site. This ridiculous impossibility does not register to my dream self as being an erroneous but intriguing unique concept and I always find such distortions hilarious after waking. (On a side note, I have never held an interest in MySpace and have not even seen the site in many years, though this is more a subliminal awareness associated with my space in the bed.)

Something shifts within my consciousness and level of awareness; instinctual dream control; that is, a subtle realization that I am creating my world, but without the understanding that I am dreaming. After this, my dream becomes a less common type primarily based on tactile factors. (This subtle realization that I am making my dream without remembering what a dream is is very common and occurs with a number of other dream types and has since earliest memory.)

I deliberately try to force the setting into being haunted, including trying to force a fabricated history of previous hauntings to initialize this (a lifelong recurring event in the non-lucid dream state, probably an influence by my enjoyment of haunted house movies) though my willful effort does not initiate for a few minutes. Finally, I feel my fictional physical body moving from a vertical position to a horizontal position (with no falling jolt) as unseen implied ghosts (possibly that of two or three dogs) are dragging me across the floor. There is a brief “blind spot” regarding the change, like a subtle skip in my dream’s continuity. I feel a tightening around my waist as I am being dragged feet-first on my left side to the other side of the room, but it is not unpleasant or nightmarish (and there is also the ambiguous feeling of being pushed as such at the same time). (In the back of my mind, I am aware that I alone am causing this.) I still call out for help, being aware that Zsuzsanna may be somewhere in the house. I am not clear on whether or not there is a door on the opposite side of the room, though which I vaguely consider would be the entry into this house rather than another room. My focus on this possibility remains ambiguous as I consider Zsuzsanna being “outside” this structure as on another level of existence, not quite bilocation, but probably subliminal realization that she is next to me in reality. I wake up kicking and rolling about and softly speaking gibberish (rather than whining or moaning as with most tactile hypnopompia), but this does not wake Zsuzsanna.

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This dream type is so different from other dream types that it is like a different type of unconscious experience. Most such dreams have far less imagery (sometimes none at all, being mostly augmented touch and sense of weight and momentum) regardless of the three-dimensional awareness of the setting. Most such dreams seem to be specifically caused by the enhanced awareness of the weight of a blanket or the body’s sleeping position (and in this case, I went from my original fictional dream body’s upright position into my actual sleeping position, though changing it in hypnopompia), yet for some reason, my dream self takes on the role normally reserved for the preconscious with an unusual pretense that there are “ghosts” present, being aware it is my own doing on a lesser level, typically likely caused by simply wanting to change my sleeping position within sleep (which has been verified with a number of past examples). It is highly unlikely that this type of dream has any additional meaning or purpose. Whereas many non-lucid dreams are based on the symbolism incidentally built from the subliminal expectation of the waking transition, this type seems solely based on ongoing environmental factors. There is a very big difference, which is likely why the mood, tone, and level of awareness is completely different.

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Morning of July 6, 2017. Thursday.

Dream #: 18,462-05. Reading time: 1 min 52 sec.



I am on a pirate ship. There is a cheerful mood. As time passes, there is evidence of a treasure chest at the bottom of the ocean. One man finds a note with instructions from a pirate who had died years ago. On it, with the latitude and longitude of the marker’s location, it specifies what time to retrieve the chest, implying any other time might result in the treasure being lost or resulting in a threat.

The ship sails to the location the lost treasure supposedly is. There is a marker floating on the ocean’s surface. Someone pulls the rope that has its other end tied to the treasure chest below. Briefly, I consider, if the timing is wrong, there might be a sea monster or gigantic fish on the other end of the rope, but this does not occur. For a time, I see an underwater view as one of the pirates pulls up what first seems to be a small but weighty chest.

I watch the chest coming up out of the mud on the ocean’s bottom. Close to where the rope connects to the chest, I see the remains of a human arm entangled in it. This arm is tossed aside without concern when bringing the chest aboard.

After the chest is on the ship in the center of a large cabin, about five or six pirates remain nearby. At this time, there is a bilocation of being in the kitchen of our present house.

The captain opens the treasure chest, and at first, there appear to be piles of gold and silver coins as well as jewelry. He takes out some of the coins, which seem stuck together. He gives a few pieces to a few different pirates, though I get the impression it is not an equal division. They may work out how much each man receives later.

One of the pirates snaps his horizontal cluster of fused supposed gold coins in half. It turns out to be fake and made of plaster. Another pirate does the same with the silver coins. The mood changes to disappointment, but the outcome does not seem that important.

I approach the chest and find a hidden compartment under a false bottom. There is anticipation amidst the group of perhaps there being a treasure underneath. I lift it to see several brochures for a modern casino. There are also three notes of foreign currency (possibly Indonesian) as a gift to use in the casino. The situation results in amusement.

I carry the bills in what is now the kitchen of our present home (without my dream self recognizing it as such) as I walk towards our back door. The pirates are still with me.

“It’s three dollars,” I say. There is a sense of amusement rather than disappointment.

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Morning of July 6, 2017. Thursday.

Dream #: 18,462-02. Reading time: 42 sec.



In the first segment of my dream, Zsuzsanna and I are hugging and kissing in bed, in the King Street mansion (not a factor of our waking life as Zsuzsanna has never been to America) in the east middle apartment. The bed is perpendicular (its head north instead of east) to where it had been in waking life.

As I walk in the hall to go downstairs, I realize I am only wearing my left shoe. I repeat my routine of returning to the room and putting my shoes on until I see I am wearing both shoes.

Leonard is in his room at the end of the hall. He seems cheerful and appears as he was in the 1980s. He refers to me as his son John. (I had been wearing pants in bed in my dream, probably related to another part of the poem Leonard references, “Went to bed with his trousers on.” Another line is “One shoe off, and the other shoe on.”)

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“Diddle, Diddle, Dumpling, My Son John” was the influence of this dream.

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Morning of July 2, 2017. Sunday.



My wife Zsuzsanna and our children as we appear now are apparently living in the Cubitis house. However, my entire dream takes place outside, mostly in the backyard, though there is an additional feature of the north side of my middle school incorrectly rendered as the north side of the house, another unique composite of which my dream self does not question. (No two settings in my dreams, even in tens of thousands, are ever the same.) The time, which remains consistent, seems to be late morning.

I notice a wooden shipping crate in the backyard, close to the middle of the house (east side). I am puzzled over when it arrived and wonder who it belongs to as I consider it might have been left by mistake. I notice a small engraved circle on the side facing east.

I lift the crate up (and it seems to have no bottom) and notice the feet of at least two chickens. There are also other animals, though I do not learn what they are. Two tiny chicks, not much bigger than my thumb, are walking about at one point. There is feed already on the ground, but I also find a bag with supposed feed to give them. The “feed” is very small, seemingly small white triangular pebbles, some flatter than others, though still too big for them to eat. I find smaller feed and let it fall from between my fingers and they eat some of it. Throughout my dream, I am mostly in somewhat of a squatting position or on my knees.

There is also a miniature monkey. He is only about the size of a marmoset. He wears a bellhop cap. After looking about later, I see, off to my right, that he had been suffocated or crushed by pillows and large cushions that somehow had been placed or thrown over him (though I do not question why pillows would be outside on the ground). It is a sad realization, as I know our children might have liked him as a pet. He is on his back and his small body is stiff. I pick him up but there are no signs of life.

In the final scene, I am near what looks like the north side of the middle school that I attended many years ago, though it is still meant to be the north side yard of the Cubitis house, though as mentioned in the first paragraph, my dream self does not question this or reflect upon it at all (despite its much larger area than the house and yard). As I walk along easterly to the backyard again after talking to a couple members of my family, I strongly believe that I can will the monkey back to life. I am not lucid but I still have an idea in my mind that I can do this via thought alone. I focus and direct my thoughts. Very slowly, he comes back to life and seems fully alive and normal. I throw very small breadcrumbs on the ground and watch him eat.

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Morning of June 30, 2017. Friday.



I enter a prolonged dream state and remain mostly in instinctual dreaming depending on the situation. The same characters are consistent throughout for the most part. In normal lucidity, a dream can be taken full control of and vivified with the current conscious self identity. Creation and control is also predominant in instinctual dreaming, except there is no association with dreams or knowing or remembering what a dream even is and there is usually no current conscious self identity present. The nature of non-lucid dream control varies from faithful pretense in scenarios to passive expectation in how the dream is rendered and changed.

In the beginning, I am with a group of unknown males, mostly in their thirties. We are trying not to be discovered by another group of males. At one point, we go into a small ramshackle building that seems like a barn (play on Barnum?) with missing external walls on at least one side. There are at least four rooms, but the layout is much like oversized public bathroom stalls. I go into one to attempt to stay out of sight and others go into other rooms. There are small piles of old wooden planks and gaps in some of the walls. Eventually, the other group knows where I am.

The leader of the other group reminds me of P. T. Barnum. He discovers that I have telekinetic ability and wants me to work for him. This happens after several attempts to kill me. In one scene, an unknown male dressed in a ballet outfit shoots an arrow at me from about twelve feet away. I mentally cause the arrow to turn in flight and it goes back to him, hitting him in the chest, though I am not sure if he is fatally wounded. If I do not work for the leader of these men, he will continue to hunt me even though, over time, I defeat most of his team.

Prior to the last scene, when it seems to be late morning, he tells me that he could really use me and seems friendlier. It seems he has no men left on his team. Curiously, it turns out that he wants me to clean the entire planet, rid the world of pollution and make it neater and more in order. He sits at a picnic table. My answer is still “no”, but I play around with my telekinetic abilities through various scenes. In one, I make scraps of paper on the top of a picnic table hover and come together in one pile. I see disordered towels, which belong to him. I cause the towels to become neatly folded on the picnic table’s top. He seems very passive at this point.

As he watches me, I look out at the ocean. I see at least two sailboats and tell him to watch what I am going to do. I cause one to rise in the air as a man falls out into the water. The sailboat, while hovering above the water, bumps the other one, causing it to tip, though no one seems hurt. From here, my dream fades.

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The sailboat coming up out of the water (“rising from sleep / water”; the sails relating to bed sheets as a continuation of the folding towels association in making a bed after waking) is yet another version of waking symbolism involving water lowering or not being present where it would be expected (and water itself is dream state induction and symbolizes the essence of sleep). The last event is also akin to a flight symbol, a very common, over one in five of my dreams, precursor related to subliminal anticipation of a hypnopompic “fall” upon waking, including airplanes, birds, UFOs, the dream self falling, rising, or flying, and many other common forms. Still, many people seem to believe in certain forms of “dream interpretation” as a consequence of the Barnum effect.

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Barnum is a great personification of the preconscious and the emergent consciousness transmutation in the last scene. This likely comes from having to endure a few fake “dream interpretations” (though only recently on sites I do not post on as much as the main dream journal site and tumblr) even after explaining that I have no interest in second-hand “interpretation” from people who have no understanding of basic dream types or know anything at all about my life to this point (which makes second-hand “interpretation” even more ridiculous and offensive to an experienced dream journalist), me already explaining dynamics of my dreams at least in part, the “interpreter” (often of whom shows no sign of consistently remembering their own dreams) pretending negative context where none exists (though revealing their own life and mentality rather than mine of course - which is in fact what second-hand “interpretation” actually is, not a viable statement for the dreamer regardless of their typical politeness and willing submission to the Barnum syndrome).

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Stopping the arrow in flight and sending it back was a curious way to stop the waking mechanism without lucidly knowing this as my dream self. If it had reached me, it would have triggered the typical hypnopompic jolt (such as my lower back spasm sometimes triggered by the bird beak symbol or other flight-related symbols). However, this mechanism sometimes does not complete when certain levels of awareness are focused on it, though I still consider it a “chicken or egg” puzzle as to the causal factor.

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Morning of June 27, 2017. Tuesday.

Dream #: 18,453-02. Reading time (optimized): 1 min 30 sec.



My dream begins, displaying snakes that are neither a threat nor where I am as if they were images on a screen.

I mentally create a new snake with liminal dream control. The setting becomes distorted. I try to make myself see a snake crawl from our present home’s kitchen. The snake appears but is unrealistic. A second unrealistic snake appears.

My level of awareness increases when Zsuzsanna and our three youngest children are near the front door, going out to the library (though it is night in the last scene). Although it is our present home, the setting is uniquely distorted (as always). A snake bites Lorenzo on the finger shortly after I warn everyone it is nearby. I am concerned, thinking he should go to the hospital. Lorenzo cries and looks at me. However, the situation becomes ambiguous, stemming from my imagination. Although I thought the snake was venomous, Zsuzsanna informs me it is not.

They go outside. The porch steps are incorrectly facing north, straight out from the front of our house (a recurring error) and slightly higher than in reality. Lorenzo sits on the ground near the steps. I think he might still need medical attention as he seems faint. I go out and half-jump, half-fall off the steps (vestibular system correlation, which revivifies my dream) to sit on the ground and comfort him as “we” coalesce into emerging consciousness.

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Important: Note how Lorenzo is this dream’s sleep simulacrum (the subliminal association with being in REM sleep), as he is “feeling faint.” Note how the scene directly links to vestibular system correlation (the subliminal focus on illusory physicality and movement by way of staircase usage, which I often initiate deliberately). These two dynamics are vital in decoding dreaming and waking processes and have correlated the same way in many previous dreams. Additionally, a dream character using a door is a common form of autosymbolism for synaptic gating concurrency.

It is also important to realize how the foundation of my dream stemmed from my conscious will with dream state awareness that transitioned into my dream’s unwilled scenario when I abandoned that alertness. That is how many dreaming experiences occur with many people either not admitting to it or unaware of their mental processes.

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Morning of June 26, 2017. Monday.



I am back on Loomis Street (where I have not been since February 9th of 1994 in reality) within a typically distorted dream-self identity of not being with viable memory beyond that of my eighteen-year-old self. I am in the living room of the Loomis Street house. There had been details that the world will be having strange weather, which has something to do with the sun. At first, my dream seems to be based on only unusual weather approaching, but not that threatening. However, the concept changes, becoming far more dramatic, before my dream ends.

My mother is alive and seemingly well and in the west bedroom of the Loomis Street house. I have no memory of her passing in 2002.

It seems to be afternoon. I am in a state where I decide to play around with the world itself by spinning the entire atmosphere, clouds and all, as fast as possible. That is, rather than causing Earth to spin faster or to slow down, it remains at its present rotation as I spin the sky around, north to south. The clouds are white and fluffy against a bright blue sky. The realism is extraordinary as I look out through the porch windows and watch the clouds dart across the sky as I willfully spin the atmosphere. I am doing this to show a few other (unknown) people what might soon be happening naturally due to the celestial events. This goes on for several minutes.

Eventually, the celestial changes come and the sky changes. Very unusual clouds appear in the sky. I sense people’s fear while not feeling threatened myself.

For a time, the sky looks much like an analogue television screen that is not fully on the channel. That is, there are diagonal lines and flickering bars across the sky. There is one very loud thunderclap. Looking at the sky again, it resembles an empty multicolored spreadsheet, with each cell randomly billowing downwards slightly, the whole expanse with somewhat of a wavering effect.

I know I should see my mother. She sits in her bed in her room and seems upset, saying how it is “the end of the world”. I do not feel any sense of fear or even concern for humanity. I calmly accept the fate of the world and of myself.

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It is obvious that this dream utilizes liminal dream control and originates mainly from my current conscious self identity and understanding of the dream state (virtuous circle effect) than anywhere else (even though I have no memory beyond my late teenage years while still within my dream). That is, I know I am creating my dream, and yet my dream self identity is not aware of this at a viable level. It partly comes from having looked at a childhood dream from 1971, that was in turn, based on having seen the movie “Crack in the World”, the childhood dream association of which also influenced at least one other dream of this date.

The evidence is not only obvious, but continuous on different levels. Firstly, I am able to spin the entire sky with no effort. Secondly, the sky then becomes like a television display not being on the channel. This is direct evidence that I view the sky as something I can willfully change as if with a television remote and that my thoughts are still based around liminal dream awareness. Then, the next stage utilizes an emergent focus on critical thinking skills (which do not viably exist in the dream state) when the sky then becomes like a multicolored spreadsheet, as if waiting for my conscious thinking skills to ascend and fill it with organized data. This same focus makes me subliminally aware of the waking symbolism - that is, dream state cessation as an “end of the world” metaphor (which has been a common form of waking symbolism since early childhood). (Why would dream cessation symbolism relate to the conscious self in a negative context? This is the ridiculous mistake I have seen people continuously make all my life with so-called interpretation, which I learned to dismiss at a very early age in light of truth.)

The fact that my dream self has no fear of this supposed end of the world is more evidence of liminal dream awareness and potential control being a major factor. Why should I care if my dream ends? It is a perfectly natural event. Even more obvious is the “return to bed” metaphor (yet another subliminal thread of acknowledgement of being asleep in reality), even though, in this case, it is typically distorted to a different time and characterization. The real puzzle still remains. What determines the status of my dream self (regarding altered age and time distortion factors)? What determines when and where any precognitive threads (or “input” from the collective unconscious or the Source) dominate the patterns?

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Morning of June 26, 2017. Monday.



I am in a school setting, but it is completely unfamliar in regards to the school I went to in reality and I am unsure of the implied location. On one level, it seems vaguely bilocated with the area near Loomis and Gillette streets, though not the real-life school (that I never went to).

I mostly spend time walking around with a young atypical version of Zsuzsanna, who seems more like a classmate around my own age. I give her love and attention, though in the background, there is the realization of many other students projecting an overall mindless nature in addition to a group mentality of no benefit to anyone, which she also seems aware of and does not want to be a part of. I refer to her as my “partner” when speaking to an unfamiliar male.

After what seems a long time, the scenario changes. I have picked up a broken globe. The globe seems to have been made at least partly of glass and is only about twice as big as my fist. It is in several pieces. A male that reminds me somewhat of Zsuzsanna’s father is on the other side of the room (though I have never met him in reality and only talked to him on the telephone years ago).

In a non-lucid state, I cause the broken pieces to hover in the air, with no effort other than basic thought. Soon, I decide to fix the globe. I cup my hands around the jagged variously-sized pieces after they are placed together. There is an incredible vividness of heat and steam flowing from the palms of both of my hands. I am clearly aware that this will reseal the globe, somewhat like welding, but more like melting the glass and then smoothly connecting all areas of the surface.

The steam and hissing coming from my hands does not cause any discomfort even though my sense of touch is otherwise enhanced.

The globe of the world is a smooth sphere again. The other male does not seem alarmed or even puzzled. This is somewhat unusual in that it is the reversal of typical dream cessation symbolism, though because of its vividness, is probably more about stabilizing my emergent consciousness factor in this case.

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This is one of a few dreams of this date that was directly influenced by looking back at a childhood dream from 1971, which had been influenced by seeing “Crack in the World” (a 1965 movie). This dream is more like the 1971 dream than the others. (In fact, many of the few hundred brief dreams of this sleep cycle’s beginning centered around the movie theme to some extent. The fact that I had only thought about the 1971 dream for a short time, and the fact I had not seen the movie for a long time, is puzzling in how much influence there is over a new dream which is otherwise completely unrelated to my present life status, and yet this is a very common occurrence.) Additionally, I now realize that I had also been looking at a photograph from a 1982 dream (“Apple Baby”), which is a close shot of a hand holding a large apple.

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Morning of June 21, 2017. Wednesday.



I am in my bedroom in Cubitis (where I have not been in real life since the summer of 1978). There is not much furniture present other than a bed. My room is full of very shiny small gold nuggets and gold dust with a few piles of gold coins. It seems to be nighttime.

I do not consider that my bedroom being filled with gold all over the floor from wall to wall is unusual in any way. I also do not consider that it is unusual that I am Casper the Friendly Ghost, in cartoon form. Wendy the Good Little Witch is visiting. There is no direct association with humanity at all.

Snorkledorf, the Freakies Cereal character, though not associated as such by my dream self, is approaching from the west. Wendy and I know that we are in danger. He will most certainly eat all my gold and then eat us. We decide to flee. Wendy and I fly northwest, and although I phase through the wall as I am flying because I am a ghost (though I often do this as my more conscious-self-based dream self), Wendy does as well, which puzzles me briefly. Perhaps she quickly used her magic wand. For a short time, I am thinking that she could turn Snorkledorf into something else, but that might not prove to be feasible.

We both fly north now. The area is no longer like rural Cubitis but not like a city block, either. The houses are close together, the backs of the houses facing each other, with shared backyards (an interesting dream distortion). Somehow, the area seems familiar or at least “correct” to me (even though it is entirely unique) and I decide to fly to the library. Wendy is no longer with me. I get the idea that Snorkledorf might be able to track our direction using his sense of smell, but that concern fades.

In the unfamiliar library, I am “myself” to some degree. That is, my dream self identity is now human but there are not many threads of my current conscious self identity, though I have no dream-self memory of having just been Casper the Friendly Ghost. I discern my fictional dream self as when I was around twenty-five (even though I had not been in Cubitis since age seventeen). I “know” that the library is north of my home in Cubitis, the other side of Highway Seventeen from where the plant nursery would have been in reality (as well as the opposite side of the highway as my home was). As usual, this is the first time this fictional layout has ever been rendered. There was no public library in Cubitis.

I look westerly at a tall wooden magazine rack and see a variety of magazines and comic books. I think I might buy a book I see in about the center of the rack, which is a graphic novel of perhaps sixty-four pages, though it feels thicker when I stroke the slightly irregular spine with my right thumb and index finger. Even though I am not familiar with its content and it does not seem all that interesting, I decide I will buy it as I read the price on it as $1.13; a dollar and thirteen cents. My dream self does not consider that, being in a library and probably not part of an ongoing book sale (though there are book sales at our local library in real life), that I could not buy it even though I plan to.

I turn around and lean down upon a heavy wooden table to read the book more closely. There are a few other people seated at it, including a very chubby short-haired unfamiliar male on my right (south) of about twenty. As I lean upon the table while turning a couple pages of the graphic novel, the heavy table begins to tip to the point where its top is almost diagonal to the floor.

“I’m sorry,” I say to the small group of people, as I catch and pull the table back upright before it is fully on its side.

“If you could harvest that energy, you could solve the global energy crisis,” the chubby male says formally but cheerfully. I wake.

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• The gold in my Cubitis bedroom uniquely symbolizes all my dreams that I had documented and decoded in my youth.
• Snorkledorf in this case symbolizes so-called dream interpreters. They “eat” (read) someone else’s dream without knowing what a dream is (what gold is for). They “trumpet” (as does Snorkledorf) an irritating out-of-tune fallacious “interpretation” with no understanding of personal value or experience or true meaning.
• Being Casper and flying is a waking symbolism precursor. Flying is the main anticipatory form of waking from a dream. Some “experts” believe this evolved from our ancestors falling out of trees while sleeping, but other “experts” have other theories, such as unconscious confusion of the physical body being horizontal in sleep while residual threads of the conscious self identity are rendered as upright in the dream state. I am more inclined to believe the second theory.
• $1.13, the cover price of the graphic novel, relates to how long I had been sleeping, an hour and thirteen minutes, a format I picked up from watching the timer on our DVD player so many times over the years. The graphic novel itself symbolizes being in the dream state.
• It is curious that the personified preconscious (though already coalescing into my emergent consciousness) said “harvest” instead of “harness”. (“Harvest” would imply getting electricity from plants, thus I suspect it means on one level that I should eat more green vegetables for more energy.)
• Thinking that Wendy could transform Snorkledorf with her magic relates to a conversation Zsuzsanna and I had prior to my dream. Neither of us have any answers for what is really wrong with much of humanity, regardless of how many times we had discussed it. This also relates to a recent analogy I came up with. Being an Internet dream journalist with over fifty years of experience is like being a heart surgeon with a detailed personal diary and additional book on anatomy. In the night, a person comes in through the window and scribbles in the margins “explaining” how the human body is run on hamster wheels…

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Morning of June 20, 2017. Tuesday.



My wife Zsuzsanna and our children as we are now are living in an unknown residence, though the last scene is modeled after the southwest Cubitis bedroom (where I have not been since 1978). Zsuzsanna tells me that our youngest son seems to be in a trance. He is lying on his back in a bed chanting numbers, though at one point he is doing this with his knees over the side of the bed. Zsuzsanna just says that “he’s counting”. His eyes are open but he seems “asleep”.

(Of course, this situation is simply a real-time subliminal factor of being asleep myself and is so common, I typified “The Sleeper” as such when very young. The Sleeper is not always a human character and there are sometimes a group of Sleepers. Still, the validation of The Sleeper depends on other dream dynamics. For example, in one surreal dream where our youngest son was in a bed and seemingly very ill, there were additional precognitive factors.)

Our son’s left eye seems unusual and is a different color than his other eye. (My view of it is greatly magnified as is fairly common in dreams. This was influenced by a bit of redness he had in one eye a few days ago, which is okay now.)

Over time, our son is awake but he talks about having two heads. He does not actually have two heads but he seems to think he does when looking in a mirror. He even motions with his hand to show where it supposedly is (apparently on his right shoulder).

In the last scene, I am in the room modeled after the southwest Cubitis bedroom. Looking in a mirror, I see I have a second head on my left shoulder. This head is partly reminiscent of a character like Mr. Hyde in an old “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde” movie (such as from 1931). The other head does not seem threatening. In fact, it seems cheerful.

I consider whether or not someone is standing behind me with his chin over my left shoulder, but there is no one there. I reach up and touch my other head, mostly around the face on the cheeks. It feels like I am touching someone else’s skin rather than my own, which makes me consider why it does not feel as if I am touching my skin. It seems too much like real flesh to be an artificial head someone may have placed there.

In the last scene, prior to my dream fading, I tell Zsuzsanna about it, but at first, it seems that I am the only one who can see it. However, our youngest son seems to be able to point it out at times, apparently because he had an extra head but is now fine in every way. This apparent syndrome is only temporary though I had vaguely considered if it was related to some sort of haunting.

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That preconscious is a laugh riot. (This dream was probably influenced by “The Manster”, though which I have not seen in a long time. If so, it would have been triggered by the focus on our son’s red eye a few days ago, as in the movie, the extra head starts out as one large eye on the man’s shoulder.) Basically, this is just another metaphor for coalescence of the personified (or monsterfied?) preconscious into the dream self prior to returning to whole consciousness. Of course, it is not usually physically literal in this way. One of my last dreams of having two heads was on February 24th of this year.

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Morning of June 14, 2017. Wednesday.



I am in an unknown residence where there are a number of unfamiliar people, though most of them seem friendly and cheerful. I am working with mixing music (with a cassette deck) but using a commercial folk music recording and I end up playing the cassette in reverse (by the tape being reinserted into the cassette inside-out, though the dynamics are muddier than digital reversal).

Over time, I begin to hear actual words, which turns out to be “Mama always tried to give me what I needed…” with additional lyrics about the singer’s father. There is also something about fast food being “fake” or something along those lines with an additional mention of the mother.

I take off my headphones and have an unfamliar male listen and he seems to find it interesting. In actuality, the melody is based mostly on the country song “Okie From Muskogee” (Merle Haggard), though I do not realize this in my dream. Eventually, the lyrics become gibberish (back to sounding more like reversed audio), although I still listen for possible phrases.

Eventually, a chubby biker (unfamliar) with a large brown beard, pulls out my headphone jack and seems to do something to the cassette deck and I soon see it is on its side. This annoys me and, even though he is bigger than me, I start beating him on the head and shoulders with my smaller barbell (without the weights). He is not injured that badly and we somehow end up in a kitchen (possibly loosely modeled after the Loomis Street house kitchen) but I soon wake. (I am fairly certain the biker is associated with Hell’s Angels, thus is this dream’s flight symbolism.)

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The personified preconscious is not always directly associated with a discernible flight symbol (though the preconscious level itself often is) as just being the preconscious personified is inherently viable as dominant waking symbolism on its own. Ending up in the kitchen in my dream relates to mild hunger while sleeping; pretty obvious. (Plus, this is redundantly validated. Even if I was ignorant enough not to know this, it is backed up by the “fake” food reference in the song. “Fake” food would be a subliminal link to knowing that eating in a dream does not give the body actual nutrients.)

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Morning of June 19, 2017. Monday.



My dream starts out with my dream self (with at least some present conscious self identity threads, though not that many) being in an unfamiliar library in semidarkness. I am aware of an unknown female (seemingly in her twenties) who had been looking over a number of supposedly ancient religious books with the hope of gaining some sort of understanding of her life as well as personal power. However, I am also aware that there is nothing here of any value for her when considering my own opinion of her activities. She does not seem to be aware of me at first. I assume that I am incorporeal at this time, though I am corporeal in the last part of my dream. Looking at the pages, they are singular lines of hieroglyphs rather than a discernible language, somewhat like small sketchy icons (a carryover from a couple previous recent dreams). It seems to be some sort of ambiguous distorted combination of Aztec, Olmec, and Buddhist cultures.

In fact, there seems to be something in the back of my mind regarding this distortion, as some of the icons seem to represent Olmec colossal stone heads as well as Buddha heads and figures, yet there also seem to be some Aztec symbols. This reminds me of the New Age movement, primarily based on modern charlatanism and fallacious occult systems, which unrealistically combines anything and everything in an unlearned, unrelated, and wrongful sense (including all the fake products for gullible believers in the 1980s, such as free radical “guards” one wears, which only had internal circuity to make a small light bulb flash on and off to make it look like it was doing something). I begin to feel sorry for her, even though the books themselves may otherwise be of some historical significance.

I end up sitting at a rectangular wooden table with her sitting across from me, as well as there being a presence of about six or seven other unknown people. A few of the additional people are at a table that is perpendicular to the one I am at.

She is using a calculator for a reason unknown to me. Soon, I cause, via telekinesis, the calculator to rise into the air and come over into my raised hand. The others do not seem that surprised and she does not seem to object. She then has a fifty-dollar note in her right hand, which I do not clearly discern as either American or Australian (though it is more like an Australian fifty-dollar note relative to its darker golden color overall, though with no plastic or transparent content). She is holding it up as if ready to spend it on something (though this is not logical as we still seem to be in a library).

I use telekinesis again to will it from her hand. However, it rips and she still has a large section of one corner between her fingers. Feeling slightly guilty about this, I try to unite the pieces back together with telekinesis and additional mental will. Even though the piece is eventually reattached, with associations of manipulating the resealing of the tear like a zipper, I cannot fully seal the tear on will alone, plus, the corner now seems slightly out from the rest of the bill and at an angle (This would not be possible in reality, as the area of the paper would require it to be of the exact shape when coming back together for the correct fit. It would not be possible for there to be a gap or extra paper beyond the perimeter implied as here, as the distorted trapezoidal upper right corner relative to the front of the bill now appears a bit bigger than it was). An unknown male at the other table “reminds” me that he had told me not to use telekinesis in this way (though I do not recall this actually having happened before).

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This dream utilizes non-lucid dream control. (Despite this, I am still technically the personified subconscious as I am not consciously aware of my conscious self identity and status.) This is evidenced by the fact that my conscious self certainly does not believe in telekinesis even though my silly dream self typically does and uses it effortlessly for the most part (more so in non-lucid dreams than lucid ones). Instinctual dreaming (non-lucid dream control) renders most forms of dream “interpretation” as pointless. If the fictional temporary dream self differs so much from the current conscious self and its present status, why would one assume there is significant relevance to the current conscious self (other than with literal precognitive threads, some of which are not revealed until many years after the dream). Although the manipulation of an object with telekinesis is technically a type of flight, I do not classify it as a third-level flight symbol unless more clearly defined or evidenced as such in my dream. It still seems to imply a factor of real-time dreaming and waking symbolism as in “not being fully grounded”.

What is going on here is a very typical metaphorical biological “showdown” between my non-lucid dream self (aka personified subconscious) and the personified preconscious (which is often transpersonal and unrelated to the conscious self persona, and thus which I assume in some cases comes from the collective unconscious) of the type which I have experienced all my life since early childhood. I am taking from her, the symbolic form of my critical thinking skills (the calculator), which do not viably exist in the dream state, and thus I am initiating my own waking symbolism which is why the preconscious does not object (as its purpose is to either wake the dreamer or instigate emotional factors related to waking from the dream state out of biological necessity; for example, if you do not wake you go into a coma or die - it has baffled me since early childhood how so many people do not realize that this is one of the main functions of dreams, though unlike what some “experts” claim, not the only purpose). The inability to fully repair the fifty-dollar note may symbolize two completely different factors, the first relating to, in being in the waking transition, unable to subliminally reinduce the dream state (as I am not lucid), and two, being that fifty is near my age, may relate to the biological impossibility to completely restore my physical body to as it was in my youth. (The symbolic “pulling up of the zipper” in attempting to fix the note may also be a waking precursor simply related to getting up and getting dressed.)

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