Morning of August 18, 2016. Thursday. In the first part of one scene, I am at our present home and near our front door. It seems we have at least one (unknown) female visitor but she is talking with my wife Zsuzsanna in the dining room (which we use as the main bedroom). For some reason, our front door is open and I am looking outside while standing in the doorway. It seems to be early afternoon. I am eating some delicious snacks of a strong bittersweet flavor, eating at least a dozen of them without paying much attention to their appearance. They go down my throat, each being swallowed whole. Finally, upon looking at them, I notice that they are like miniature shish kebabs, though the implied stick is also edible and sweet. On the end of each is a large and shiny red carpenter ant head with black mandibles. This gives me pause even though I had been enjoying these snacks (and I briefly vaguely wonder if eating their heads as such could be dangerous). I realize that the ant head goes down first, and I had been properly consuming them as such, but now, as I think about it more clearly, I am not so sure I will continue to eat them, at least for now. In another sequence, I am looking over at (old neighbor in Cubitis) Harold’s orange grove area (even though the house I am observing this from seems to be a minor variation of our present home). It seems to be late morning. The weeds are very high, nearly at chest level. I feel slightly guilty for not having mowed the area (which has no orange trees in this scene) yet do not even consider that his area is not my responsibility anyway. Soon however, two of his workers come over and start cleaning the area. They are dressed like sheiks (even though I sense one is East Indian and had worked as a cab driver recently). I still feel slightly guilty at their difficulty in trimming the plants. However, it soon is seen that what I first thought were weeds are two beautiful trapezoidal sections of tall flowering plants, forming two somewhat large hedge-like features. It now seems to be an amazing regrowth of what was intended years ago to be as beautiful as it is now. Still, the unknown male continues to work at it, cutting small sections at the bottom. He brings his gardening shears near the top but the areas near the blossoms are impossible to cut for whatever reason - in fact, it almost breaks his shears. He stops and studies the tops of the plants. He then informs Harold’s wife (who instead appears as Diane K for an unknown reason) and tells her that the plants are producing fruit, which seem very valuable. This does not seem to matter as Diane tells him that everything must be cut down as that is what Harold had said, though she seems upset about it and refers to him as a “posturing curmudgeon”. I feel very annoyed that the fruit will be wasted as well as soon missing out on the beauty of the red and white prolific flowers. Eventually, the setting changes very illogically. I am still seemingly at our present address, but the roof seems to be missing and the orientation still partly reflects Cubitis. Looking to the north, I see what resembles the Rose Street building. It seems to be nighttime though still somehow light enough to see at a distance. On the roof is “Diane” (still apparently playing the role of Harold’s wife) though she now seems to be Karen’s mother instead. I wonder if she sees me and recognizes me. She does not wave or make any indication as such. My two youngest sons are in the house, more to the north. The house seems to be open to outside on that end. I am still aware of her annoyance at Harold having the plants cut down, but when I look out, I notice two smaller beautiful hedge-like areas and it now seems daytime again. Turning about, the setting shifts yet again and it is now late at night again. I now “understand” even after having gazed at the shorter hedge-like flower sections in his yard, there are now only two mats in that spot (which somehow now is a much smaller area) with shorter grass growing in parts in a somewhat random pattern. I also see light-colored sand in random patches, mostly on the mats, which is also somehow the remains of flowers. This is in the area of the kitchen on his side as apparently we share the residence. I view the scene from our (my family’s) side of the kitchen. I do not question the plants having been growing out of the wooden floor and also growing from the mats. The kitchen is fully enclosed and no part of the house is fully open to outside as it was minutes ago. Soon, I need to use the bathroom and it is late afternoon again. I go into a (fictional) room (which would be implied to be between our two son’s rooms in layout) where it looks as if the toilet had somehow been slid across the floor and turned perpendicularly to where it had been. There is a decorated Christmas tree to its left and the room looks more like a lounge room overall. Looking down, I see there is hardly any water in the bowl and there is also a transparent plastic wrapper in it. I decide to use the “other” toilet. The other toilet is in our actual lounge room and faces east though is in a corner (northwest) that is implied to be our bathroom. At first, it seems fine (and it also is now a few hours earlier than it was moments ago), though I eventually realize the curtains are open on two sides and I hear the rest of my family returning home from their outing. I am annoyed (in realizing how open the “bathroom” is) but get up to close the two curtain sections. Still, I then see there is nothing there at all, the area being completely open on two sides with no curtains after all (implied entry point and the right side) and the time shifts to where it is even earlier (close to morning), so I decide to wake up and use our real bathroom (though it is not that common for a dream to be based on needing to get up and use the bathroom), which I immediately recall is not problematic as the ones in my dream had been. It is curious how many bizarre scene shifts and impossible time shifts there were and I did not question any of them, especially the house not having a roof and being completely open on one side or time jumping backwards a couple times, though both aspects are quite common in dreams.
Morning of August 17, 2016. Wednesday. My wife Zsuzsanna and I seem to be much younger, perhaps both in our twenties, seemingly about the same age. My dream starts (or at least becomes viably discernible) at a point where we are walking out from the Cubitis carport (a common induction point in my childhood and teenage years) about an hour or two before dawn. We are headed out to the highway area just beyond the big front yard (the original Highway Seventeen) for some reason. I notice that the area is different. Instead of a culvert, the land is elevated about eight feet above the highway (which is an intriguing variation I had never dreamt of before). I notice a few wastebaskets just off the highway, of various sizes and colors, which I consider as belonging to neighbors. I also get the impression that people sometimes sit in the area on the wayside below as an act of socialization. Zsuzsanna goes north to the area near where Harold’s orange grove started. There is an unusual large light-colored tree growing through a recess (or circular “notch”) in the embankment with its west side open (and facing the highway). Most of the branches (at least those in view) look as if they had been cut off about a foot or so from the trunk. Some of the exposed roots seem to be nearly at the height of the embankment (extending into the recess only) even though the trunk also properly extends from the ground below just off the highway. I do not question this highly unlikely and illogical feature. There is no traffic on the highway during the length of my dream. After a short time, even though I have no lucidity, I will a television to appear. It is a widescreen television similar to our real one and it faces the house. I tell Zsuzsanna to “watch this” as I manipulate its placement without touching it, using telekinesis to slide it a bit more north. (At no point is anything discernible or considered to be more north of the tree.) There is a sense of puzzlement where I consider that the embankment may have a slope from the ground level below that is horizontally deeper in near the bottom, and if this is the case, there may be people there though unseen, though this does not seem to be the case after a time. I cause the television to float in the air a few times, just past the edge of the embankment, as I contemplate what to do with it. I eventually start moving my hands in both a vertically and horizontally increasing span (moving my arms about slowly in an arc) as if indicating that the television is getting larger both in its width and height. This actually works and I am amused as I cheerfully ask Zsuzsanna “how is this?” It becomes very large, nearly as big as a movie theater screen (though with the black surface of a television), several times its original size. The detail seems flawless in how it slides and becomes larger, vaguely reminiscent of shutters opening (though not directly rendered as such, though I do get an association of parts of it flopping out from the side as it evenly grows larger though not as if by original design). My dream becomes more and more vivid as I go closer to the tree and the edge of the embankment and I sit down to the left of the tree (south side). It is the only tree visible in the area. Zsuzsanna starts climbing the tree, but only near embankment height, and she mostly only circles around it, sitting on a truncated (seemingly evenly sawed-off) branch a couple times, while facing the tree. Still, I am concerned that she could slip or fall and I tell her to be careful as I would not want anything to happen. I then use telekinesis to start causing dirt to fill in the recess that the tree is adjacent to, but decide to stop after a short time even though the completion would cause the area to be more stable to walk on (though this is not really logical as in reality there would still be less dirt overall in the area, although there is a sense that I may be creating it as I also mentally move it). Zsuzsanna seems very happy and deriving pleasure from moving about the tree’s circumference (while staying mostly at the embankment height, going neither up or down). I feel a sensual attraction to her as she sits on the truncated branch facing the tree, the scene being somewhat erotic. Since 1968, Highway Seventeen (the original name as the stretch is now called Northeast Cubitis Avenue), when featuring as the main setting of a dream (especially in the final segment) causes an absolutely amazing heightened sense of clarity and extremely clear “realistic” detail and vividness. I suspect at least two possible reasons for this. A highway often seems symbolic of the strongest link between dream self and more discernible increasingly active consciousness. I also spent a lot of time (during a period of about eight years) waiting on the wayside for the school bus (as well as getting off there in the afternoon), and so these two factors also can combine to validate this as an augmented liminal space and “arriving home” (waking up) scenario. The fact that I non-lucidly create and manipulate the television (which usually represents a dream within a dream though in contrast also a link to the external real environment) seems to be a very intriguing non-lucid practice of dream manipulation (though many dreams throughout my life, I as my dream-self have also manipulated non-lucidly solely by pretense and nearly subliminal expectation, though this does not always work, as with my recent “Robot Help” dream as an example). Additionally, the television expanding and growing larger is also analogous to my dream becoming more vivid.
Morning of August 2, 2016. Tuesday. I am one of the main partners of an unknown male (who seems to be in a safari outfit at one point) who has been designing and developing a huge strategy game that is played in a wide area with a number of larger pieces. Its playing field is a little larger than our entire house. There are a number of unusual scenes in this very long dream, most of which I can only summarize parts of here. The game is somewhat like a more complex version of the “Age of Empires” computer game, the only computer game I have played much over the last few years. It features major situations throughout history all occurring in the same time period, it seems. In one scene near the beginning, the man is talking about how the nuclear plants (of about three inches high), one at the base of a miniature mountain, are the only game pieces that cannot be physically destroyed. He demonstrates this fact by throwing a couple “real” grenades onto the playing field, right onto one of the nuclear plant buildings. After this, I look inside one of them and see what seems to be a few horizontal layers of metal, each layer about a quarter of an inch apart. Apparently, this is done because the game’s nuclear plants are somehow “real” and relate to the game’s resources. There is a scene involving seemingly modern British royal guards, and one game character going through a sort of red and white striped toll booth but for people who are walking. This seems to be one of the main features of the game at one point (but features and ideas about the game keep changing, including the layout). In one scene I am holding a couple male characters that are about half the size of a Barbie doll. They seem somewhat lifelike. The situation seems up to me as a leader becomes a slave and a slave becomes a leader - though this seems unexpected on the presumed part of the characters (which at this point may somehow have some sort of sentience). I place the leader in a miniature coffin, though he is not “dead”. This is only for a time. I soon take him out and the game continues, though none of it has any actual continuity. At one point near the end of my dream, I notice that the entire playing field on its perimeter is shaped like a very odd jigsaw puzzle piece, the border having that peculiar jigsaw look all the way around, though the playing field itself is of an odd irregular shape though slightly like the shape of a pistol overall. The jigsaw shape is as such to fit in with the other components and when a person has all of them, they represent the entire world. I think there are possibly five or six main components but possibly a lot of individual add-ons. It would seem that the complete game would take up the area of at least five houses. I remain in a sort of awe about the man’s work.
Morning of July 30, 2016. Saturday. My wife Zsuzsanna and I, mostly as we are now, are in an unknown and unfamiliar city. We are looking for a particular bookstore but cannot find it. It seems to be late afternoon. We ask directions a few times in the area where the bookstore is supposed to be, but it is as if people do not know where it is even when they live on the same street in apartment buildings supposedly right next to it. This both puzzles and annoys us. I do not think they are deliberately misleading us but there is also the idea it may have closed down. We go to an intersection and around the corner where one older male claims the bookstore is, but it is not there. There is one delicatessen nearby. The area vaguely reminds me of La Crosse, near and around Third Street. I become aware that there is one street that is dangerous as there are two or three velociraptors roaming around. I neither realize how absurd it is for dinosaurs to be on the loose nor how they would limit their territory to one small section of a city block and not go beyond that at any time. Zsuzsanna and I wander through an abandoned empty shopping arcade. It is fairly dark inside even though it is still daylight outside the large buildings. The arcade has two large halls that intersect. I suspect the velociraptors are just outside one entrance but I do not feel that concerned as I become semi-lucid though not actively. Velociraptors (or anything that could harm or swallow the dreamer) would be a typical aggressive coalescence factor as the potential waking precursor. Looking for a bookstore implies trying to find my conscious mind (or conscious identity as such) at the threshold of the upcoming waking stage. I do not know if aggressive coalescence factors are triggered by real environmental cues, though this would make perfect since as early man was always needful to be wary as such when sleeping (the only difference being that early man probably did not have to seek his conscious identity, at least as much, to prepare for the waking transition to face whatever real danger may have triggered his dream content).
Morning of July 28, 2016. Thursday. The four strange events are: An unlikely earthquake that causes unexplainable changes, electricity that moves about and causes destruction, inanimate objects attaining sentience and a desire to hunt people, and what people write having an effect on upcoming events after an unusual change in the sky. In the first part of my dream, which is mostly unrelated to the rest, my family and I are living in a distorted version of the Barolin Street house. It has two flights of steps at the front at one point, a narrower flight at the right of our house and a wide flight of steps almost of commercial appearance more towards the middle. This area has a small chain going across at the downstairs door. There is someone at our house who is interested in items we have found in a storage area. These items were seemingly there a very long time, having been left by former tenants. The agreed price is three hundred dollars. Another visitor, who may be a homeless male, says he should pay five hundred dollars, but since I do not want to lose the sale, I keep it at three hundred. Still, I additionally ask if he might be interested in a couple very old advertisement posters, one of which he is amazed by concerning both its age and its rarity (even though I somehow create these posters out of typical dream state pretence even though I am not lucid in any way). I also have two boxes with small ceramic swan statues, though one of these seems to disintegrate from age. Still, they already seemed to have had sections missing. Eventually, a young chubby male (perhaps no older than twenty) tries to come up the steps at the side. I go to the middle flight of steps. The chain does not really block people from coming in or going out as one could just move it or go under or over it. There are some unusual events going on south of our house. It involves some sort of earthquake that causes unexplainable changes. I am not that concerned but find it interesting. Eventually, some sort of electrical threat is in the area. There is a large utility vehicle that shoots out synthetic lightning to fight this threat. I see it parked near the front of our house. Most of the action occurs in the supposed main part of town, which is south of us (rather than north of us as in reality). At a later point, I mention how unlikely a third event would be, saying that a third unexplainable event would be impossible. Still, one unknown female is saying how certain inanimate objects are hunting people. It seems to be a well-established and accepted fact that inanimate objects, such as wrecking bars or crowbars, have a certain percentage of living material on the surface that could become sentient somehow. In fact, it seems that all things that exist have a certain degree of organic life force if only on the surface - though this is usually not enough to give an object sentience or instinct or a will to hunt. In this case, it seems perfectly reasonable that a wrecking bar could come to life, move like a snake, and hunt people. I am aware of these reported events of inanimate objects attaining this hunting instinct and life force but am never under any threat. Later, several other (mostly unknown) people and I notice that the sky looks unusual (though this does not bother me at all as it does most of the others). Somehow the sky is reflecting details of the ground below, but it is not quite as intricate. It is almost like a more simplistic map-like layout with a downward curvature that matches the ground level topography (rather than exactly mirror-like, as then it would curve upward). I can make out plain squares that are seemingly meant to be a “reflection” of the houses in the area, as well as patterns that match the streets. It is realized that “reality” as such has changed and people are worried about what they had written concerning the first three unusual events and any other negative events. This does not bother me. It is possible that more strange and even disastrous events will come. I can begin to feel a stronger breeze from the direction of town. I am not that concerned. I start to write different things on various pieces of paper which I can write and read quite clearly. I write “well-being” on several different scraps of paper, as well as “God loves me” (I do not typically use the word “God” as I feel it is too generic, as many different religions use the term with completely different attributes, systems, and implications). Meanwhile, other people do not write anything and only focus on the worst possible outcome as they hang on to the outside of buildings though some seem lost and just wander around.
Morning of July 27, 2016. Wednesday. Even though I am fully lucid, I had entered a very skewed version of “When Wakes the Dreamer!” (first read around age twelve in 1973 in Eerie Magazine). My wife Zsuzsanna is outside talking with an unknown female. They are looking at the horizon at what are apparently unusual events related to the supposed HAARP (apparently closed in 2014) conspiracy. It also seems there may be some sort of military action but not as an imminent threat. San Francisco, as in the story, is “gone”. Misty “tendrils” of either smoke or cloud rise in the distance, some tongue-like. As I am listening to Zsuzsanna and this unknown female speak, I look up at the nighttime sky and see a huge cloud. It looks much like a human face, mostly like Doug in a particular panel of “When Wakes the Dreamer!” though oddly in the negative (even though I do not recall seeing it in photographic negative at any time in my past). (The word balloon with the image had read “Just moments ago you said that I was aware of things that the mass media would never realize existed! Perhaps!”) Still, Doug’s huge visage almost seems like pareidolia in the back of my mind (especially as seeing a face in the clouds is a common form of pareidolia - and even though it is a dream, I do not want to embarrass myself). I mostly stare in awe at the sky. I am not that concerned about the female of whom Zsuzsanna is talking to regarding the so-called HAARP weapon. I never draw their attention to this weird cloud at any point even though I consider doing so. His “tongue” seems to extend and go up along the left side of his face almost to his “forehead” - which is almost like a separate vertical cylindrical cloud formation, not quite like a tornado, but becoming more like a giant pale vertical tomato worm cocoon (distorted by elongation and being rendered in photographic negative). Still, the more closely I stare at it, the more eerie (no pun intended) it appears. If Doug is the dreamer of my dream, where does that leave me? Certainly it is not my face in the clouds. I find myself wandering through an alley and “returning” to our home, though it is a mostly unfamiliar residence still deemed to be ours. I discover a package that looks much like a miniature pillow (obvious dream sign) which seems to be on our bed (another obvious dream sign). I am aware it contains a small amount of various organic herbs and seeds that we had ordered, which were quite expensive. However, when I go closer, everything starts popping out of the package, though each at a different time, such as maize flour (the first to somehow “jump” through the unwrapped package), sunflower seeds, fennel seeds, and seemingly thistle seeds as one of the last features (the kind you “make a wish” on). I do not want all of this wasted, so I eat the small amount of maize flour as well as some of the sunflower seeds and fennel seeds that later emerge. (I believe this segment was caused by sounds in my real environment at the time and my dream trying to resolve these sounds by including both dream signs and very slight “nourishment” and an analogy to increasing awareness of physicality.)
Updated 07-13-2018 at 04:46 PM by 1390
Morning of July 27, 2016. Wednesday. One area of a building I find myself in, as I am becoming mostly lucid, seems to be a small private bar, though with several people, mostly unfamiliar, though Ian Somerhalder is here. (This actor was on both “Lost” and “The Vampire Diaries” so curiously can represent both subliminal water induction and dream flight as well as the circadian rhythms factor of nightfall and the dream state, all simultaneously.) I am lucid, but not viably lucid (to where I can automatically direct everything) and I do not enter apex lucidity (which requires pushing open a heavy wooden door for me or at least going through a porch or open doorway) even though I am aware I am dreaming. I start talking about how I am dreaming and try to prove this to the patrons of the bar. Ian looks on with a slight interest and becomes curious when I press my hand into the rectangular wooden and metal bar table. However, instead of my hand phasing through the table, the implied polarity is skewed as I push my hand down through the surface so that the wood and metal moves, creating a hand-shaped hole in the top of the table (with some of the metal part ribboning around part of my hand), the main piece sticking to the palm of my hand as I continue to press down. This is not quite what I had intended of course, but Ian still has a look of awe on his face with a vague hint of amusement. I try it a few more times at the main bar, but my hands and fingers now only meet with total solidity. I keep tapping my fingers and hand on the surface and only meet logical resistance as in reality. This annoys me greatly. The counter’s solidity is very realistic and uncompromising. I leave the area and soon find myself in a shootout with police officers and a number of 1960s gangsters. I do not have a gun and I do not materialize one at any point. I end up in an area where I notice an unknown male of about forty years of age. He is wearing a black shirt that reads (in white letters) “Do not shoot me because I am Claude’s (my full name in possessive) guardian.” I find this very peculiar and thus question why and how an Angel of Retrieval could possibly be in a lucid dream other than as comic relief. I also find this scene (and him) somewhat hypocritical on two levels. Firstly, the shirt is possibly bulletproof, and secondly, I myself have no writing on my own shirt and it is likely not bulletproof either. Still, I somehow manage to dodge all the bullets that are randomly flying everywhere. I try to summon the shirt from his body into my hands, which works, but then decide he can have it anyway. I then go into a large area where the timber structure of the walls and ceiling is rather complex and a number of people are having a party. I decide to use telekinesis to make the ceiling collapse for no particular reason and leave the building as it collapses behind me. I end up walking on a very large and wide wharf that extends out about thirty feet or more over a gray ocean and it seems just prior to sunrise. A number of people are present, but no one is familiar. I make eye contact with a random male of about thirty and try to communicate with telepathy but he just stares back blankly. I eventually start touching and pushing people (not aggressively) to see how “stable” they are. A young girl approaches (probably a young version of my wife Zsuzsanna I perceive as being asleep - thus the ocean, which represents sleep and the dream state) and she seems slightly upset but does not see me at all (even though I am not phased or invisible as far as I know). There are a couple other people in the area. She seems concerned about the dolphin known as “Skipper” and it possibly swimming away or “leaving” her (though this is only by assumption because I think of “Skipper” as a dolphin for some reason, when it is actually supposed to be “Flipper” - so this association with Skipper as a dolphin may be completely wrong, though it does have meaning). I look out at the ocean and start to hear unusual music (an old song I wrote at age twelve based on “When Wakes The Dreamer!” from Eerie Magazine) and decide to leave my dream. This last part is rather interesting and contains an element I could not possibly have known about, as Zsuzsanna had never mentioned that she had her doll named Skipper (which was female) near the ocean (the only doll she took that time), and also, had to leave it behind when her family moved. In my dream though, at least vaguely, I did see “Skipper” as a distortion of “Flipper” which would be me as the dreamer leaving that essence of me behind in the symbolic ocean of sleep (while Zsuzsanna was still sleeping as I woke thus I was “leaving her” as we were then at different levels of consciousness), while it is also an incidental play on “Skippy” (the kangaroo). A doll is also the dreamer within a dream, as it is still and “held” by the superior whole consciousness and not active in sleep.
Morning of July 25, 2016. Monday. I have befriended, as a coworker, Terry O'Quinn (as John Locke on “Lost”). We are volcanologists working in an apparently isolated area, though there is no impending threat at first. Eventually however, I develop some sort of insight into seeing what is to come, though this is more as a typical pretense in somehow subliminally directing my dream (which happens a lot in non-lucid dreams). There are about six or seven in total working in this setting. I inform them that they all died - though speaking of events about three days from now. They seem a bit wary of my advice that they should leave. They do not want to scrap the study, but I somehow convince them. Suddenly, at one point as we are walking, we are all in the Cubitis living room. I gaze cautiously at a small bright orange circle (like a shallow hole possibly revealing orange rather than red lava inside) on the knotty pine wall to the right of the hidden door that was there in real life, somehow linked to a light switch in this otherwise dark room. (This is a sunrise metaphor and waking precursor and seemingly symbolizes a desire to somehow see my deceased parents prior to the new day as both my mother and father used that room during different time periods.) There is a sense of electrical energy rather than volcanic and there is no threat, just a sense of awe and curiosity. The others follow my lead willingly. There is an interesting scene of an earthquake but I inform them that there is still time to escape. There is a scene where Michael Dawson shows up to drive us to the airport. He looks as if he has been badly burned by being close to the eruption, though it is more like an unrealistic type of “burn” where he is more like a shadow made of ash. It is an unusual effect but he seems perfectly fine and is even cheerful. At a later point I am looking at Terry O'Quinn through the window of a commercial jet airliner that is flying high in the sky (and it seems I somehow phased through the wall of the aircraft I had just been in to do this). He notices me and there is the idea that I am his guardian angel or even his idea of God. He is aware of me and acknowledges my presence in a somewhat cautious but respectful manner. Finally, there is a bizarre scene where I am looking at the front halves of the heads of all the volcanologists as they are lying on the surface of a table in a medical laboratory. They are slid around almost like dinner plates a couple times. I am trying to work out where the rest of their bodies are though they seem fairly alert and are answering questions and getting examined somehow. There seems to be a question over how I knew they would have otherwise died. I reveal my ability, which supposedly came from some sort of injection in this same laboratory. A female medical worker seeks to give me another injection to undo my abilities but I cause her to fly backward across the room and against the wall with telekinesis. I am able to fly away as well as to help the volcanologists escape their second possible fate of being lab rats.
Updated 10-02-2019 at 10:25 AM by 1390
Morning of July 20, 2016. Wednesday. I am with my wife Zsuzsanna on a large bed (the most obvious dream sign of all) though this bed is about twice as big as it would be in reality. She is on my right doing some sort of work on a calculator. The setting, though not rendered fully, actually seems to be near an intersection which is on our left (our bed running longways to the street with us facing the street at most points) with a bus stop farther away to our right (a potential dream exit sign; that is, the waking precursor in this case even though I do not perceive myself as needing or wanting to catch a bus either “out” of my dream or to an offset dream), and although I am aware of at least four or five other people nearby, there is no sense of imposition. The location itself is unknown. The implication could be either America or Australia or elsewhere. Over time, I understand that she had been carefully typing in a program related to calculating percentages. There are at least three virtual panels related to lines of instruction. She seems very involved and serious about what she is doing. Somehow though, I later have the calculator (possibly when she goes somewhere for a short time, but she is back later) and I had put lines of my own programming in, although they may only be REM statements. Still, I realize that perhaps it would have been best not to add to the program as I do not want to alter the outcome of her session even though I thought it might make her results more accurate. Looking at the calculator again as she is holding it in her left hand, I notice that the programmer’s name appears at least three times on the screen below each group of at least three lines each of a specific subroutine (the screen of which is longer than it should be, almost taking up the entire space of what would actually be the keypad). It sounds like an East Indian name to me, and I assume it is a male’s, likely a college professor’s. “His” name seems to be Padmé Amidala (which is actually the name of the young female in some of the “Star Wars” movies, and I had not at all thought of “Star Wars” at any point recently).
Morning of July 13, 2016. Wednesday. The first segment relates to my wife Zsuzsanna and our family as we are now though living in a house that seems like a variation of the Loomis Street house. One difference is that there is an additional porch door on its south end, closest to the internal wall. It had apparently been unused for longer periods by other tenants and was even nailed shut. In fact, there is a point at which I remove the nails and we use it for a time. Eventually, our landlord appears and, even though we had been using the door recently, makes the claim “this door has never been opened”. I find his ignorance typical of people but amusing. He appears to be here to make repairs. Soon, there is this idea that I am leaving for an undetermined amount of time. Zsuzsanna had asked me at least twice if there was a nude man sleeping in the middle of the street (dream sign). I am not sure at first as it may just be an animal that had been run over. It seems to be late afternoon. Everyone is sad to see me leave. I leave with no additional belongings or items. A car pulls up (from the north if assuming Loomis Street) and an unknown teenage girl is the driver. (This is one of those many times when I somehow know that I am creating the events in my dream, in this case summoning the driver “out of nowhere”, but I am not at all aware that I am dreaming.) Before I ride off in the car (the driver’s side being on the left even though I have lived in Australia since 1994), Zsuzsanna asks me again about a possible nude man sleeping in the middle of the street but I am still not sure. The dark-haired girl is dressed somewhat formally in black slacks and a light-colored sleeveless top. I do not learn her name at any point. Her demeanor is somewhat formal though still cheerful. I notice that the unusual imagery in the middle of the street is actually an animatronics display of two beavers as in an implied scene from one of the “Chronicles of Narnia” movies. This seems curious to me as it may be a hazard for vehicles to have to drive around. Ahead, as we go south, we notice other animatronics displays, most of which are large but most are on each side of the street. One, on the left, is somewhat like a small Nativity scene. This all seems like some sort of temporary publicity stunt as well as a holiday-related event. A shift occurs and it is now late at night. I am now walking with the unknown female in an unfamiliar alley though it is an illogical setting as one alley leads into an additional perpendicular alley with a high light-colored wooden fence on the opposite side. An unknown man approaches us with a knife to rob us. Even though I am not lucid, I say “You have no knife” and his knife vanishes. He appears to be very puzzled and somewhat concerned. For a short time I think of making him vanish as well but instead, I create a revolver in my right hand and aim it at him. I then think that this might make the girl think that I am a violent person so I cause my gun to vanish. The man runs off into the night. I am now returning to my family. It has been two years since I had seen them (though Zsuzsanna appears about twenty years younger and our children appear about three years younger). I hug her in the doorway. We are going to travel to a new home. Many people are going to help us, though most of them are in their fifties to seventies. The journey will be difficult since we have to wade through a river in the coldest part of the year. In fact, someone asks me why I want to go there at this time but I do not have an answer for them. Still, I am not sure how Zsuzsanna and our children get through as I only see several older people making the journey. I am with them but somehow not fully in my body. I do not seem as stressed as they are by the conditions of the environment. One older male’s outer flesh had come off from his right side and I can see his ribs and lungs. He keeps wading through the cold water with the others. I think perhaps he may die, yet he continues. I feel a bit guilty about his condition. We all end up on the porch of my family’s new home. Oddly, it just seems like another version of the Loomis Street house (in seeming location and orientation) that we had left. It seems an older unknown male is letting us live there for as long as we want. The male who had a large strip of his flesh come off seems to be okay now. Many antiques and knickknacks are visible, including some sort of smaller cylindrical objects with a forest painted in one smaller circular area on the side and which may be candle holders. I remark about the house probably having been built in the 1700s. I see that the brick wall on my right is very crooked, with the bricks at various depths from the wall’s implied center (almost as if something very strong had tried to push out from the other side) but this does not seem problematic in any way. There seems to be some sort of machine attached to the ceiling. I can see two small rectangular buttons close to each other longways, one red, one yellow, the red one on the left as I look up. Someone activates it with a switch on the wall for a short time and a few are wary of it as it is fairly large and hanging over their heads. It is connected to some sort of pulley and is part of a device to carry parts for production from one area to another but has been unused since perhaps the 1800s. I look out through the doorway and discover that there is now an additional porch that is illogically linked to the front of this porch. It is a bit bigger and mostly glass and metal rather than brick. There is a series of French doors all the way across the front. I clearly see writing that is printed in large letters (at least six rows) from ceiling to floor. It says “To Lulu” on each left door and “To me” on each right door (and there are probably four sets of two) so that the writing is close near the middle of where each pair of doors open. The writing is on bars that go across what is otherwise glass to where I can see outside to the street. I go back into the other smaller porch and comment on how the house was built for, and dedicated to, a girl named Lulu. I start repeating “To Lulu, to me, to Lulu, to me” over and over. (Lulu is the name of a singer who sang “To Sir with Love”, which I heard a lot as a child and young adult and which I also performed as an instrumental on both accordions and keyboards. However, there is also a song called “Don’t Bring Lulu” which I also performed, though I assume it means the singer as Paula Abdul was referenced in one of my last dreams.)
Morning of July 6, 2016. Wednesday. I am back in the Loomis Street house as it was in the late 1980s. However, I am with my wife Zsuzsanna (who has never been to America) though we may be implied to be younger. Curiously, this is yet another new variation in layout of the Loomis Street house. The house itself and the room layout is the same - yet the furniture between the living room and dining room (mainly the two armchairs) are turned around and facing west into the dining room instead of east into the room where the television would otherwise be. This distortion does not trigger any consideration or contemplation of the overall setting. Zsuzsanna and I are being intimate on the floor in the living room. There is an unknown male of about thirty or more seated in the armchair at the south end of the room division. He soon becomes annoyed by our sensual antics on the floor though also seems to be directing anger against himself, calling himself by an unusual insult (seemingly related to how he is seen by government) though I cannot remember the term. I think it is something associated with being a box or container for the extraneous thoughts of the elite. He seems very frustrated at his role of being an erudite adviser, it seems, that is, possibly being the most intelligent person in the region yet being appreciated the least. I feel that Zsuzsanna and I are imposing upon him (and there are others in the area though I do not directly see them) and I soon pull a sheet up around Zsuzsanna’s bare back and bottom as we then sit in informal cross-legged positions for the most part after we get up from rolling around on the floor. As I face him from a diagonal orientation, Zsuzsanna is closer in the same diagonal line with her back to him) I do not pick up on the fact that it is possibly the other male who should not be present. Still, it seems probable that Zsuzsanna and I should go back to the small bedroom at the front of the house. (What is rather curious, is that none of the actual people, including my sister and her husband and two of my brothers and even my mother who had lived in the house come to mind at all during my dream.) Instead, the dynamics of the scenario change. He drops or puts worksheets onto the floor right next to the bed sheet that covers most of Zsuzsanna’s lower body. I start to consider what grade they are for and I am ready to say something on their merit and grade level as I look at the top A4 sheet closely. The task seems to relate to some form of algebra or calculus. For a short time, I am puzzled over their nature. I had been ready to say they were fourth grade level but almost consider they are related to an adult business form. On the sheet there is mainly only one table with only about three or four visible unsolved equations (in rows in the middle spaces of the table) that are possibly part of a series for a function (with two or more variables implied, possibly x and y coordinates). There is also a small state standards graphic (American) on the upper left (though I cannot discern it clearly). Soon, a mysterious unknown dark-haired female appears fairly close to us. She seems to be Persian so is likely another version of Zsuzsanna but I do not consider this in my dream. She starts chanting and moving rhythmically in a formal cross-legged meditation position. She is shaking rattles (one in each hand). I find this quite unusual and am not sure if I am comfortable with this unknown ritual, which seems to oddly relate to the mathematics worksheets. Now I am starting to wonder. Would a sheet of paper be considered a secondary (indirect) dream sign? After all, there is the obvious play on “sheet” (and of course ghosts in sheets are an obvious play on the dreamer being in the dream state). As dreams are mainly concurrent metaphors for the sleeping, dreaming, and waking transitions (which is obvious to anyone who has bothered to actually study them for any number of years), this seems a strong possibility. In fact, there is likely an obvious association from my youth from having written out so many dreams on sheets of notebook paper, which were often of various pastel colors - the color sometimes matching my actual bed sheets in Cubitis, which pleased me. This may not be one hundred percent, but after having a close look at other dreams with sheets of paper, there does seem to be a metaphorical dream sign connection. This honest breakthrough may mean a lot of augmented additions (no actual changes to content or original impressions or patterns; just additional notes) to my vast collection of dream work over the last fifty years. This of course would only be relevant when the “sheet” analogy is more direct. For example, just the appearance of a scrap of paper or paper in other forms is not necessarily a dream sign as such. In this case, a facet of the last scene would imply a desire to use critical thinking skills in the dream state even though that is not really feasible. For example, a “worksheet” with a need for mathematical skills is not directly compatible with a bed sheet. Even more evidence on this reasoning stems from the sensual mysterious ritual that seems related to the viability of the worksheets. That would make more sense in bed sheets being associated with a sensual act. Also note that the worksheets seem to become more adult upon looking at them more closely - also having relevance to an adult sensual act. Looks like I made yet another breakthrough on the concurrent symbols and metaphors of dreams - yet more important evidence they are primarily native to the dream state rather than having mundane “interpretations” (which I never thought they did anyway, even as a child). Worksheets are also educational just as learning and validating this viable connection and meaningful association was educational. How intriguing.
Morning of July 5, 2016. Tuesday. My dream self’s primary focus is that I am in our bed in our present home, though with a vague and inconsequential awareness of bilocation within an unknown second location. (My second-most-common form of dream state initiation involves transformation of sleeping location factors, which is simply the residual though subliminal memory dynamic of having fallen asleep, the most common being various forms of water induction. My common awareness of bilocation in the dream state is simply caused by the modulation of the imaginary dream body and the real physical body, though of which was more vivid and sustained in childhood dreams, especially during the waking stage.) I am holding a manila envelope which apparently needs to be mailed. (This is real-time dream state symbolism as a concomitant of a residual consciously created thread to trigger communication between the imaginary dream self and the dormant conscious self identity, though it does not always work or even vivify the dream state. In this case however, it does vivify my dream somewhat but does not trigger lucidity.) I look at the front but I am not clear on the address of the business. (This is simply the result of my language skills being dormant while in some levels of unconsciousness, though writing is clearly readable in some dreams, depending on the dream type and particular stage.) On the back of the envelope is what looks like a tic-tac-toe grid (though is not necessarily implied to be one as it could also be a magic square frame or just a generic three-by-three grid). In the rightmost square of the middle row is a sketchy image of a human left ear. I turn the envelope over to see if I can make out the name or address again and when I once again look at the back, the “ear” now looks like a sketchy wing drawing, though still somewhat like a human left ear. My dream fades as I am puzzling over this imagery. Note One: As a casual reader might guess, the mail symbolism (linked to the first-level dream state initiation, that is, the bed setting), common since childhood and established in practice from December 1966, was not consciously intended to be literally rendered as such, but rather as a “line of communication” sustained into the dream state via conscious intent. However, due to the very nature of being unconscious, my conscious intent naturally ebbs and becomes a literal rendering of this metaphor in the non-lucid dream state. Note Two: This is also very cleverly augmented “return flight” symbolism as precursory waking symbolism. My otherwise dormant conscious self is fully aware that inner ear dynamics are the main reason for flight symbols in the dream state, which occur in over one in five of the tens of thousands of dreams I have experienced and studied. (Any association with falling, flying, dizziness, or rising is biologically based on inner ear dynamics and RAS activation to bring about and mediate consciousness.) Note Three: Mail symbolism is also present with dream state duality (harmonious connection with one’s partner) or multiplicity (connection with the transpersonal or collective unconscious, including literal prescience, for example, an actual letter received in real life of the same content as seen previously in the dream state). This dream has no sign of either (although certain other dreams do). Resupplemented on Sunday, 8 October 2017.
Updated 10-25-2017 at 07:51 AM by 1390
Morning of July 5, 2016. Tuesday. This dream starts off with quite honestly the worst visual pun I have seen in ages. I am looking into a parking lot and see that something is not quite right. Instead of the cars having a windshield and upper section, it is a thumb in such a manner as the thumbnail implies the car’s windshield. Still, the scene does not really seem that bizarre to me and in fact, eventually triggers otherwise unrelated sequences. Next, there is a thumb with windshield wipers moving over the thumbnail. This image is greatly magnified though the closeup perspective is not realistic. The windshield wipers have too much mechanical detail and exaggerated distance from each other (relative to one over the other and seeming farther out than it should). Eventually these “windshield wipers” become more like a minute hand and an hour hand reading fifteen minutes to three (or two forty-five). During this time, there are also glimpses of watching the slightly twitching needle of a pressure gauge. Sometimes when going back to the “fingernail wipers” they seem more like black hairs that just fall off the surface. The perspective of my dream shifts, similar to when one jumps from visual sequences into a more corporeal state. A car has been abandoned at the top of a hill with all of its doors left open. It is raining. The windshield wipers are the minute hand and hour hand of a clock, again suggesting two forty-five or a quarter to three. They move slightly but fall back, and the position remains at about a quarter to three. It seems at first to be some sort of sign relating to mortality. However, it is more likely a circadian rhythms feature as it relates to the nature of time. I begin to walk towards the car and instead become the car which is also a clock. Upon seeing the above image, Zsuzsanna caught the play on “thumb drive” instantly, with no other hint.
Morning of July 4, 2016. Monday. I am visiting my brother Earl (May 23, 1940-November 29, 2007; half-brother on my mother’s side) and his family mostly as they were in the late 1980s. It seems to be the Saint Cloud Street house except that there is another house adjoined to it on the west side of it with an unlikely unlocked door in the middle of the living room wall, that one can actually go into the other house through. A dog is heard whining, the sound of which carries through the walls and closed door. It turns out to be my brother’s former dog that he had given to his neighbors previously, perhaps months earlier. My sister-in-law seems annoyed. (This dog was a black Labrador named Gypsy. He had it in Florida when I was a boy and had kept it indoors at my sister Marilyn’s house for a time in late 1978 when he was living in a place for a time that did not allow dogs. For some reason, it would bark furiously at my brother-in-law when he came home from work though did not actually attack. He had a different dog at the Saint Cloud Street address though, which had seizures and would start shaking and just fall over at times though quickly recovered each time, thus this dream confuses the two.) My brother opens the door to go directly into his neighbor’s house and he leaves the door open. This makes me feel a bit strange, as it seems like a severe imposition. His neighbors are apparently not home, though I consider that one of them, an older male, may still be in bed, but this is only a vague possibility in the back of my mind - no evidence manifests. My brother goes in and gets the dog and makes comments about its nature and how his neighbors may not have been looking after it properly or feeding it enough. He carries it in an impossible way. It sits across his upheld hands somewhat like a statue, only about the size of a large cat, in lying position, and it whines and shakes very oddly. He takes it into another room of his house in the back. The door to the adjoined neighbor’s house remains open and I continue to reflect on what an imposition this is on my brother’s part. I feel a bit wary with possible upcoming embarrassment should these people return home and see the door open as such. Updated on Thursday, 10 August 2017. The doorway waking symbolism here is oddly sustained. My emergent consciousness is not rendered as a dog very often, especially a nervous dog. However, this dream predicted certain aspects of my physical body a year later (related to unexplainable anxiety, which I only had at one other point in my life in my twenties). It is also an interesting marker because July 4th (the date of this dream) also relates to pets such as dogs and cats being spooked by fireworks and sometimes running off and remaining lost for a time.
Morning of July 4, 2016. Monday. At first, I am wandering about in what I first think is a business building though there are not that many people around. There had been a slight focus on catching a bus (from the La Crosse post office area - even though I now live in Australia), but my attention shifts. I see an unknown male walking towards me in the dimly lit hall. I notice in one large office I glance into that Terry O'Quinn is standing in semidarkness near a desk as if ready to go home. I say “Hello Anthony” and wave and he seems slightly startled and annoyed by my presence and simply responds with “Huh?” I keep walking thinking that I should have called him Mister Quinn. I do not catch that I had called him by the wrong name (and although he has a brother named Thomas Anthony Quinn, I got the name mixed up with the other Anthony Quinn, the Mexican-born American actor who died in 2001). I am now a young female flying in a loose-fitting superhero costume. My very large cape has narrow vertical red and white stripes (which is an obvious association with the American flag and its waving though I do not perceive this as such while in my dream, although a cape itself is a dream sign that represents being under a bedsheet or blanket). I feel good as I fly through an area between tall buildings. A young male approaches me from the opposite direction and he is wearing the same costume as I am. We end up on the ground where there are several other people, which seems somewhat of a family reunion in a metropolitan park. After a time, he seems in awe that I am flying without aid. It turns out that he had been held up by wires (I assume, linked to all the buildings). I can see a number of wires that are attached to him from different directions (which is an obvious play on the dream self as being a “marionette” of the unconscious state in non-lucid dreams), almost as complex as a spiderweb. Eventually, he seems angry that I can really fly and he cannot. Suddenly, I am a different character, myself as I am now. I am now apparently the father of the previous female character who is still with us. I tell him that I had flown all my life and he seems surprised and annoyed. I tell him that I had flown a lot in Wisconsin when it was too cold for others to be out, though it also seems that my family is the only one with members who can fly. Eventually, my female character is now me again, but later becomes a male flying character (though not the other male who “flew” with wires). In the next scene, I am going to Terry O'Quinn’s house (its location of which I somehow know though none of this dream’s settings are familiar in any way) to, I think, as a courier, get some documents relative to a business venture. It still seems to be in the afternoon. A group of about ten or more males are standing in a sparse arrangement (somewhat equidistant) in his front yard. They seem to not like my special abilities, including my flying ability, and start to approach me aggressively. I blow lightly in their direction as I am going onto the porch and somehow they are all knocked down by an invisible force and do not get up. I look into Terry’s bedroom (obvious dream sign; the dream self reflecting on the conscious self still being in bed), and see that he had been sleeping, and as such, he again makes a sort of frustrated “Huh?” sound. Deciding not to annoy him any further, I walk back out onto the porch, which is now perpendicular to where it had just been seconds before (that is, rotated ninety degrees to the right - and this is a long-recurring sudden illogical setting change) and facing the street instead of the large yard at the side of the house. Soon, a male in a business suit comes out to talk to me. I try to discern if this is Terry, though I ask him if he is Tony, but it is someone else. He is a younger male (perhaps about twenty) wearing horn-rimmed glasses. He is talking to me about Terry and his tax forms (relative to business) but I do not quite understand the last sentence. He says something with a very strange playful tone (though as if also being sarcastic towards me) that sounds like gibberish. I ask him to repeat what he had said and he repeats it more loudly than before. I still cannot make out what it is as it sounds more like just a fast “nyah nyah nyah” noise. I tell him in a playful though assertive manner, almost as if talking to a child, “I can’t understand you and I don’t think I ever will” and then begin to hear lightly dramatic music playing in the background as if my dream has an overhead “soundtrack”. He just sits on the wall of the porch grinning sheepishly. As I am walking down the street, other people are looking at the sky and something seems wrong with the sun. It is supposed to be afternoon but is slightly darker than it should be. After a short time, the sun appears as a goldfish drawing etched into the sky in bright orange strips of fire (which almost seems natural and normal). A circle of fire is around it. However, this fire seems to hit an invisible spherical barrier a short distance out from the sun. “There is a barrier around the sun,” several people begin to note and say as a small crowd gathers around near one intersection. Everyone seems concerned. I am not that concerned considering that if this were real, it would be the end of the world. Time passes, and eventually there are images in the sky of witches in a circle, from about the waist up, holding their hands out vertically and trying to match the fire shooting out of the now crystal ball sun by sending their own fire (from the palms of their hands) back into the “sun”, which seems to “explain”. the supposed barrier There is a loud sizzling sound that also seems to have elements of hissing, breathing, and snoring. What a long bizarre and surreal mixed-up dream. What is unusual is the goldfish, as a fish is typically an induction symbol (which directly represents the dreamer in the dream state), though here is the waking precursor and light-of-day symbol (dawning consciousness as sunrise and circadian rhythms metaphor). I guess this is because gold represents conscious activity in the dream state, so the goldfish oddly serves as this dream’s flight symbol (that is, the main consciousness displacement representation that occurs in the majority of my dreams). Fire represents emerging conscious awareness within the dream state and as such, sometimes causes the dream’s dissolution (unless lucid).
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