Morning of January 15, 2016. Friday. This dream was really odd in what I first thought was random distortion, though I soon began to grasp at least three layers of meaning in a fairly short time, one layer (the most likely, I think) which I will share here. I am making love to Zsuzsanna in an unknown and unfamiliar setting - what seems to be a fancy hotel room. The made bed (closer to the cater-cornered door than where we are) has its headboard against the wall. I am directly on the right side of it on my back on the carpeted floor, facing the opposite direction of the headboard (with my feet closest to the table and lamp near the wall). Zsuzsanna is on top, first facing one direction than facing the other (in two different events - the sense of touch and localized awareness of heat being very elevated). I am becoming more and more aware (though not lucid) and soon notice several miniature wolves (slightly smaller than a cat) running around in midair (at about shoulder height), one directly above the pillow. These wolves are not threatening in any way, just mildly distracting. I start to wonder how many there are or if they will become less chaotic (for example, to form a straight line somewhere). My reasoning was almost stumped until my interpretation ability flowed naturally. What do people supposedly do when they want to sleep? Count sheep, of course…miniature imaginary sheep that hop over the would-be sleeper and his pillow and are sometimes imagined as floating in the air. This is inverted on possibly two levels. Instead of counting sheep, I am already in the dream state, so the “opposite” form appears - wolves. They are also not lined up to count, implying the dream continuing without waking (though they still may imply the waking mechanism since dreams often implement opposite “what if” ideas). There may also be an association with sheep as related to the popular non-word “sheeple” to describe unaware people. Wolves imply freedom and intelligence over the unaware conformist. However, something being in mid-air, I happen to know (by being directly told in the dream state) that it may sometimes mean “not getting enough support”, which may relate to my perception of much of humanity as not being very aware - or even interested in their own mind and dream states.
Morning of January 9, 2016. Saturday. In my dream, I am, for whatever reason (and with a presumed but undetermined back story) on a tourist bus somewhere in South America. I am not sure of which country though the odds logically favor Brazil. I am with my two youngest sons, though the bus is crowded and people are mostly in random seats apart from each other, including a group of girls who talk to each other from different parts of the bus. There also seem to be locals (of whatever region we are in) on the bus. My two youngest sons are the only other dream characters that are familiar in any way. The bus is apparently on its way to the airport where people will then get to their designated flights. However, when the bus driver gets off the bus due to difficulties with a semi blocking the grassy parking area exit to the road, the bus starts to roll a bit down an embankment until it hits a large tree covered with vines. When I look out the door of the bus to the right, as I am now near the driver’s seat to see what is going on at the front of the bus, I see that the semi is actually turned on its side. One of the tourist guides, a young male (probably not even as old as twenty), who is sitting on the overturned semi-trailer, tells one of the female passengers to shut up when she reminds the bus driver that the arrival at the airport needs to be at a certain time. The person looks a lot like an obnoxious and evasive co-worker I had years ago when I worked at the Onalaska Cemetery even though I do not make this direct association during my dream. The bus continues to remain in its position and the driver does not return. Soon, about five local South American police officers board the bus for an unknown reason. I get the impression my sons and I will miss our flight back to America (even though I live in Australia in real life). I decide we will walk to the airport even though it is likely miles away. I ask one police officer (an older chubby dark-skinned male with a mustache) if my sons and I can leave the bus and he nods to me in a friendly manner. After I get off though, I notice my sons are not with me so I call to them and they get off the bus and join me. I had gotten off from the side door from the middle of the left side of the bus even though the door near the driver’s seat was on the right side. I do not know if there are any buses designed like this as it would not be sensible, though it may be a distortion of having been on both American and Australian buses. The police had mainly come in through the back of the bus as well as a couple from the side door. My sons and I go down a steep embankment with high grass in a somewhat jungle-like clearing. I realize that it will be very difficult to walk to the airport (north of our location), and it looks like the bus will not move for a long time. No one has come to offer help regarding the overturned semi that still blocks the tourist bus’s path as well as police cars and a couple military vehicles. My sons and I were the only ones allowed to leave the bus for whatever reason. All of the people on the bus are considered as suspects and witnesses of an unknown crime. I decide that I will use teleportation (even though I am not lucid) to take us all home. I close my eyes and concentrate on getting home and as I open them again, there is a shift in consciousness. I open my eyes and the three of us are in the living room on Loomis Street (where I have not been since 1994). I know my wife Zsuzsanna will be returning from the store soon. Teleportation, flying, and telekinesis are extremely common even in my non-lucid dreams, but what gets me is the continuous recurrence of places (and unusual composites that utilize their features) where I have not been in over twenty years. Because the Loomis Street location is where many of the miraculous and unexplained links to the Source occurred, there may be some relevance there rather than as just a setting. More on this will be in another entry of this date and the difference between teleportation events and flying events relative to locations. This morning, I dreamt of three of my previous homes and my present one. Loomis Street, King Street, Barolin Street (Australia), and our present home.
Morning of January 3, 2016. Sunday. I am flying throughout my dream (with no backstory in mind) yet I do not recognize that I am dreaming at any point, which is curious. Mostly, my actions are illogical since I probably could just fly off to my right at any time, to find another location or region to land in, but I do not want to land in any area directly below me yet (or off to the left where there seem to be more forests being cut down), where my attention is mostly held. I do not want to land because the area is a very large lumber camp, which seems to go in a continuous arc, though it is not clear what is off to my right from this arc - probably the ocean or possibly an undefined and unrendered area where I cannot “really” go or an implied barrier (divided by liminal space, though I am not lucid enough to consider this possibility as dream-based) which I cannot go past. It seems that the lumber camp is very active in most sections and for whatever reason, I sense the workers are very hostile to intruders of any kind, including wayward flying people. After all, they are destroying the landscape, so probably would destroy anything (including people) in their path (as I do not reason they are doing it to provide for people as they likely may be). In one way, it seems like a miniature landscape (of about one-quarter scale), but this seems a possible distortion of my perspective. I do not fly close enough to the ground at any point to see that much. There is another distortion, something almost abstract but related to having to write something in a journal or notepad (while flying?) while just outside the perimeter of this range though which causes additional frustration. My flight path is continuously aligned to the semicircular lumber camp, which seems to go on like this for a considerable distance. This of course makes no sense, as if such was the case, I would be flying in a circle yet I seem to be going in only one direction in my dream and the land features below are consistently different as well. There may be some sort of association with circumventing and circumference, as this was one of those dreams that seemed to “self-title” itself after waking, something I have experienced fairly often since around the age of eight.
Night of January 2, 2016. Saturday. In my dream, I am in a field on a sunny afternoon, just outside of the more utilized land of a farm. An unknown male walks along carrying an acoustic guitar, from my left to my right, getting slightly closer but not regarding me in any way. Inside the guitar is Fox Mulder (David Duchovny from “The X-Files”) looking out through the sound hole and with his fingers (both hands) out and gripping the bottom edge of the sound hole. He looks slightly worried or perhaps is thinking of a way to get out without being noticed. I cannot be certain if he trusts the person carrying the guitar or not. There is no sound; just a sense of curious movement. There do not appear to be strings on the guitar, at least normally arranged, only because I have a clear view of Mulder’s face and his fingers. This of course is beyond ridiculous; a real oddity. A human being could in no way fit inside a guitar, let alone be so effortlessly carried one-handed by another person (as the guitar moves in a way as it is being carried that would indicate no other weight inside it). However, it seems fairly likely that the guitar represents a casket in this particular case, especially as my father’s headstone has an engraving of a guitar on it, so this is probably a surreal rendering of my thoughts or concerns about mortality. Fox Mulder, highly skilled and having experienced the unexplained, is always “looking for answers” in a world of skeptics (who are often either wrong or instigating a coverup), much like myself on some levels. Since the guitar does not seem to have strings, that is another clue concerning mortality and the inability to “make music” (or to live).
Morning of January 2, 2016. Saturday. I am sitting in a very small waiting room it seems, featureless other than benches built into the wall on each of two opposite sides (for the length of the wall) though I am not sure what the waiting room is for - possibly a school of some kind. The walls, floor, and ceiling (and even the benches) are white. Curiously, I do not recall seeing a door on either my left or right even though a young version of my wife Zsuzsanna somehow walks into the little room from my right. (I am seemingly not concerned about there being no doors in the room.) She is wearing black slacks and a black top with white polka dots. She sits across the room facing me. I reach over and lift her top a few inches with my left hand (and to her right) and ask her “what sort of belt is that?” not being sure I would actually see a belt prior to lifting her blouse. I am thinking either real leather or synthetic but she only smiles and does not say anything. The belt is also black. After a short time, a 1950s song (probably what you would call a novelty song since singers do not usually blow raspberries while they are singing) plays loudly and suddenly (from an unseen source though mostly from above and behind my right shoulder), one I have not heard since possibly 1978. It goes “black slacks (vocal raspberry-like effect) black slacks…” by Joe Bennett And The Sparkletones. The last time I heard it was when I was doing a break-in cassette (of the type Dickie Goodman produced) of about a whole hour - and possibly he used it as well (a good “answer” to “what was he wearing?”) The main video on Google is amusing, as they are wearing white slacks while performing it. It was rather strange to have an old song I have not heard in years “break in” to my dream like that from an unseen source; some sort of totally unexpected nostalgia, perhaps (not for the song, which I consider absurd albeit vaguely amusing), but from when I used to make break-in recordings for my classmates and a couple relatives. The room represents the real-time liminal space between sleeping and waking. Zsuzsanna’s presence in this case might be a factor of shared dreaming.
Morning of January 1, 2016. Friday. Dream #: 17,910-05. Reading time: 2 min 27 sec. My computer is in our lounge room in our present home instead of its location in our front room. My desk is shorter in length. I face our front door as I sit at my desk. There are two narrow windows on each side of the door (not a real-life feature). They match the door’s height. Everything seems fine at first. I contemplate my Windows 95 desktop theme, which features shish kabobs, picnic tables, barbecues, and outdoor scenery. The shish kabobs are pictured on the taskbar, as it seems that each represents a different button. There is a sense of nostalgia as if I am looking at a desktop theme that I had not used in a few years and I feel very relaxed and content. Eventually, now and then, I notice two human silhouettes looking through the right window near our front door. They lean to their left and look through our window from our porch. It seems to go on for a long time, but I am not concerned. Our front door is shut and locked. (In reality, we have a screen door and a wooden one.) Later, they walk in, with no explanation. Four unfamiliar, unknown people walk into our house. There are three males and a female. Two seem to be from the military. At least one carries an AK-47. One of the men is wearing green and yellow camouflage. They assume that we are involved in espionage, though it is unknown of which country or government. They wander around in our house to look for documents that might provide them with evidence. It seems suspicious to me that someone representing authority would bring an AK-47 into a residential home with children. They look through piles of mathematics and English worksheets as if signs of espionage might be there. I assume that if they do not find anything they might plant evidence or make something up in their report. My dream ends as I shout at the four people. Zsuzsanna tells me I was talking in my sleep at the time, which is an uncommon event. It is a typical home invader dream, unrelated to real life. It has a basis in how my dream self perceives the reticular formation’s mediation and modulation of the dream state. It often occurs when there is environmental noise detected, and that creates an intruder scenario to cause more alertness to wake the dreamer whether or not there is an intruder present. Being at the computer is a factor of the emerging consciousness. Dreams typically render everything incorrectly. Here are some examples from this dream. One, the wrong door is present, with the fictitious windows as a preconscious factor to imply it is looking in on me. Two, my computer is in the wrong room. (My conscious self identity is not viable). Three, my desk is different and smaller (neural energies lesser in dream self status than conscious self identity). Four, unknown people phase through the wall or door even though the door is shut and locked (awareness of real-life environmental ambiance that could be fatal if someone is intruding). Five, I do not use Windows 95 and have not had a copy of it for years. Six, our screen door is missing (not existing in my dream self’s “memory” at all) to simplify the implications and commencing of the intruder scenario. Ultimately, if you think your dream’s environment is realistic or accurate enough, there is less of a chance, even subliminally, of waking.
Updated 08-27-2019 at 03:26 PM by 1390
Morning of December 31, 2015. Thursday. New Year’s Eve. This dream “came out of nowhere” in the sense that there is no discernible connection to recent real life events or concerns other than upon closer examination perhaps. It begins as a typical “finding and gathering comic books” dream. There is a point at which my wife Zsuzsanna and children and I are walking through a mostly undefined but implied alleyway, one area being near a pawn shop. There is an offset dream of moving through an alley and street that is actually more like the aisle of a store. There are various books stacked horizontally on the shelves. I realize they belong to some neighborhood children (rather than relevant to a rummage sale or yard sale as in similar dreams) and do not take them. The main scenario involves going into an unfamiliar post office. Two younger males work there as postal clerks, at least one (or both) of East Indian descent. Somehow, it becomes known that there are random unclaimed items in shelves in the back. One male gives me a small package as if just giving them to random members of the public to get rid of them (loosely based on an old Spirit comic book Valentine story I read recently). To my surprise, I see that the package is addressed to me, with my first and last name clearly discernible (and it does not change when I read it again). It also has “1997” on the postmark and thus is apparently something I ordered in that year (which was the third year I had lived in Australia from February 9, 1994). The postal clerks seem cheerful. I wonder why it was never delivered though. I open it up and it is a model airplane, a Northrop F-20 Tigershark, with “F-20” clearly visible on the model. (In real life, my oldest son had started a model airplane collection of about the same size but not as far back as 1997.) Later, while still in the same general area, though in a hall of the building where the post office is, I notice that the model F-20 is of a very unusual appearance. It takes on the essence of a paper Christmas bell, though also is reminiscent (from the frontal view) of a slightly squashed carnation. This of course is absurd, as only something of expanded radial symmetry could be made as such, but I do not question its appearance. I hold it and look at it feeling slightly puzzled. Relying on what is available on the Internet relating to any possible meaning, one could get completely confused. I do know the East Indian postal employee represents theft, as my return ticket for refund (worth a few hundred dollars) was apparently stolen by this postal employee who refused to register it (and this was in the news later concerning other mail including numerous packages) and thus there was no record regarding its disappearance. Looking at the Northrop F-20 Tigershark, its being a model long past due in getting by mail (or “communication” in general), the paper Christmas bell appearance, and the association with the partly squashed carnation is quite complex (it is almost like an airplane-shaped carnation if that is even possible, but it swirls and slopes somewhat to the left from the frontal view - and again there is the idea it was somehow made in the manner of a paper Christmas bell though I do not recall building it in this way). The Internet gives different associations for yellow carnations, though most include rejection or disdain, though if I did not consciously know this, any interpretation as such is meaningless. Personally, it probably relates to mortality as another dream of this day did; suggesting a powerful aircraft becoming like a partly squashed flower, either relating to life energy becoming less viable or something aggressive becoming peaceful. Still, it could yet again relate solely to the waking mechanism, the energy of my dream “returning to the garden bed”. This is one of those oddly clever composites. The waking transition is quite long. It starts out with a typical flying symbol, the model airplane, downsized as a normal-looking model at first and quantified in the post office setting. Near the waking stage, the model airplane looks more like a paper Christmas bell, a bell also being a waking metaphor. It also has the essence of a flower, as in “garden bed”. My dream self is puzzled at these unusual atypical layers at the waking stage.
Updated 04-08-2017 at 09:56 AM by 1390
Morning of December 26, 2015. Saturday. Dream #: 17,904-02. Reading time: 2 min 26 sec. I am with my wife Zsuzsanna in the hospital, not due to illness or injury, but we need to fill out numerous documents before the authorities can approve our marriage. It has to do with blood type and other factors. We both have applications to complete. I am annoyed as we have already been in the hospital for at least five days. I am aware of Zsuzsanna’s extraordinary beauty and familiarity in our friendship, yet we are also impatient with hospital staff. I decide that we are going to leave without filling out the last of these papers. I had written an obnoxious response to one question, which I think was all I had written on the document. I fold it up, and we get ready to leave without saying anything to the staff. It seems our examination is partly because of our lack of integration with mainstream culture. Zsuzsanna (my wife-to-be in this dream) pushes through another patient’s thin curtains that somehow lead to the hospital’s main entrance. She sits down, facing away from the big front window (to the right of the entrance from the inside view). I admire her beauty while I am standing by the hospital’s entrance. She lights a cigarette. I have a false recall she has occasionally smoked before. I am uncertain I could marry a smoker. My awareness changes. I show off by carrying a long and heavy ladder from the hospital grounds. Many couples are sitting together at small round tables, including several athletes. I shift the ladder to carry it with one finger. Farther to my right is a river or set of railroad tracks or both. I am aware only a few people are looking at me, but I also know that no one else would be able to do what I am doing. I am not sure where I am going, but I feel very happy and assertive. In an earlier scene, I am at WWTI in Wisconsin. I do not think I have classes here, but I am exploring the southeast area of the building. It seems to be an auto repair class in the same area it was in real life. (Although I did not go to it in real life, my friend Rick had.) There are classes on two sides of a big (and otherwise unattended) semi-dark room. I think about going to the class on my left, whether or not I am assigned to go, and I seem to in an offset dream. However, I am eventually back in this “mysterious” room in what is likely a “reset.” At this point, I do not feel like going to any classes, assigned or not. Instead, I want to leave through the front entrance (that is somewhat like a machine shop). It seems I may have instinctually sensed my dream’s reset (without fully understanding what it was) so I want to leave the area. I go to the double glass doors with three black horizontal bars on each pane about halfway up, but they do not fully open. (The bars may relate to a remote or magnetic function, perhaps implying the doors cannot open manually.) There is a set of three double doors in the direction of the public sidewalk, with a space between each set with barely enough room to stand. (It seems the doors might crash into each other, especially if someone let go of the outer ones). I use telekinesis to throw all six doors open at the same time (though with slight difficulty in getting them to remain open at first as they crash into each other without breaking). I confidently walk out of the building.
Morning of December 24, 2015. Thursday. …And so now it appears that I enter my yearly stage where the heat of our environment has the most influence on my dream states, at least during certain times in the morning. Yet again, twenty years or so of memories are seemingly randomly scrambled in the dream state (of course, only certain stages of certain dream states). I am at least living with my wife Zsuzsanna and our children but we are apparently living in some sort of altered version of the Loomis Street house (unlike any other altered version I had seen in any previous dream). A variation of the large reverse-L-shaped closet (that joins two bedrooms somewhat as a “hallway”) is mostly featured here. At one point, there seems to be a small fire inside the wall, visible through a small hole. When I go to check out the possible source and exact location (and to see how far it has spread assuming it has) and check the other side of the wall, there is an odd “secret” panel built into the wall which I may or may not have known of before, accessible from the front small bedroom (but still hard to reach through to), where there are two cream-colored dials (similar to the design of a 1960s radio), one above the other by about four inches and around the level of my lower chest. Each dial seems connected to some sort of isolated door-latch-like feature slightly above it, in a shallow recess. I am aware, oddly enough, that each dial controls a particular door elsewhere in the house, one being the bathroom, I think, and another, a different bedroom. In order to fully get to the dials, I need to unscrew two screws at opposite vertical ends of the panel. The act of doing this is very “realistic” and palpable, as well as with no time distortions (or typical dream “shortcuts”). I put the two screws on a shelf in the closet at about shoulder level. When I notice a sink in the closet (as if for a bathroom) it does not seem out of place. Regarding the two screws, it seems one is sliver and one is gold. (On a side note, the act of unscrewing two or more screws with such an extreme level of focus, clarity, and tangibility, seems to be something that has only happened in my dreams over the past couple of years or so - it may relate to “opening up” other levels of consciousness though this is not certain.) When I have easier access, the dials seem to be damaged from either lack of use or from the fire, which I do not presently see. There is some powdery substance around each small “latch” which seems to possibly be disintegrated wood or ash, seemingly causing the dial to not work as it should. I try to see if I can shut the relevant door located in another room by turning one dial, but it is difficult. I ask my wife to check, but nothing seems to be happening other than the other door slightly swaying. The remote shutting of a door in another part of the house by using a small dial built inside a wall is an intriguing concept and I think this is the first time it has featured as such in a dream (at least with more clarity). Still, how would I know when the door was actually open or shut (or locked) without a partner telling me from another room - otherwise I would have to wander back and forth numerous times (I think there is a “message” here somewhere). Apparently, if the latch-like feature above the dial clicks into a certain position (at “12 o'clock), I assume that means the unseen door in another room is shut - but again, it does not seem to work, the feel of the dial being too "soft” where it should probably click in its operation related to the other small feature. I am annoyed by the failure of the dials to operate either door, either in opening them or in keeping them closed and possibly even locked. I eventually notice a large fire under the sink (with no doors under the sink) again, inside the closet, facing east, where the closet door is. The fire is “supposed” to be there it seems, but seems just a bit too large and shooting out from the sides somewhat. (Of course, there was no sink - or a furnace - in this closet in reality.) My friend Rick S is in the house, possibly just visiting us, and I ask him to turn down the thermostat while I still examine the dials. Eventually, in addition to the adjustment near the sink-furnace composite I realize that the two dials are probably related to the thermostats in two different adjacent rooms rather than what I originally assumed them to be for. No wonder there has been a fire. The dials need to be turned back counterclockwise to at least “10 o'clock” so that the fire and heat is not as extreme. This dream is based on some real-life associations; firstly, the extreme heat, secondly, several of the doors in this house have always been problematic, opening up shortly after closing them (the back door and bathroom door in fact, needing to be locked to keep them closed - otherwise they will just pop open), and thirdly, one of the doors below the sink is off and needs to be replaced or reset with different holes and screws.
Morning of December 19, 2015. Saturday. In my very vivid dream, my family and I are back living on Barolin Street (the large house no longer there in reality, having been moved). It seems to be late at night and I am on our front porch with a young version of my brother Earl (deceased) and his last wife Cindy. I am nearest the front entrance, Cindy being to my right, and Earl being to her right. We are all seated on small kitchen chairs. My brother and his wife are facing an electronics setup though I am more to the side of it, what is seemingly a cassette deck to record their conversation and possibly singing. This cassette deck is sitting on a larger feature, which is some sort of computer. There is also apparently a radio. (This is probably associated with a recording which Earl and his first wife Beverly created at North Monroe Street in 1967 with a guitarist of the region, Don Keys, including their singing and his own double-tracked guitar parts on reel-to-reel, which was transferred to cassette copies.) This is where I had a setup in real life prior to our moving, though not exactly as in my dream. Over time, the face of the vertical-load cassette deck seems detached and loose and is out by about half an inch. I also notice that the front of the computer tower is slightly protruding with a gap. Eventually, I feel a bit of heat and smoke begins to come out. There is a temporary strange shifting of the situation, like an offset dream within a dream but oddly just as vivid (without a seeming consciousness shift, which is atypical of dreams within dreams). I am then on the far right of the setup and my oldest son, seeming only about twelve years old again, is to my left. I am telling him that he should sit back from the smoke as the smoke seems possibly toxic if too much is breathed in, though at this point, it seems a “normal” part of the recording process and to be expected of the electronic equipment (even though in the main scenario it is not considered as such at all). Then, I am shifted back into the previous scenario again, exactly the same as it was. I do not really pay any notice to my having shifted into the offset dream but continue trying to work out what is going on with the equipment. The smoke is not that thick but seems to annoy my brother and his wife and becomes more problematic. It mostly drifts northward through our porch. My brother Earl shows me his wife’s bracelet, which had been sitting atop the cassette deck. “Look,” he says to me, “it’s melted”. He seems slightly annoyed but not angry. His wife Cindy looks on without emotion. I then notice that my black wallet (of synthetic plastic) had also been atop the cassette deck and has partly melted. It has even come apart into two sections, all of the contents having been singed. I am only slightly concerned. I am not sure if we will continue to work in a session regarding what we had been doing (recording from the radio or Earl singing with his wife). Because a cassette deck has two cylindrical rotating features (and especially being a machine), it is obvious now that it is a subtle metaphorical form of the Merkaba. Frankly, I cannot imagine how I have missed this all this time - talk about being “slow”. (In fact, this setting reflects when I experienced it the strongest when wide awake, complete with the intense cilia-like imagery. This also means that I will be able to get additional clues out of a number of past dreams that I had not fully decoded yet.) The cassette deck being the (partnered) Merkaba is even more obvious with the additional elements which validate this likelihood. Firstly, the melted bracelet is that which symbolizes lack of bondage to something mundanely habitual; in other words, it augments spiritual freedom (or not being “chained” by society’s limited understanding and unrewarding material pursuits). (A melted bracelet equates a removed handcuff.) Secondly, the melted wallet means dynamic spiritual freedom in another way, in the sense of the melted identification card - that is, losing static and mundane associations with any previous presumed identity - or being free of non-dynamic restrictions caused by being “labelled” by either government or consensus or even a particular individual. In another way, it could also be a reminder of the ephemerality of the Merkaba. (Certainly, something melting does not always have this association. For example, I have two well-documented dreams of melted bicycles, both having been preceded by having a small amount of alcohol in real life. It is clear to me that, as a bicycle represents both cellular processes and the ability to define travel through “narrower paths” - as well as yet another form of the partnered Merkaba evidenced by the two rotating wheels - that alcohol interferes with cellular processes - “melting” or killing brain cells - and interferes with intended steering or desired direction as well as spiritual relationships.) Smoke often represents real-time communications with consensus consciousness and (potential) changes of thinking in the dreamer (or the “burning” or dissolving of previous ideas or circumstances). In this case, aspects may be “toxic” because of the limiting nature of some levels of collective consciousness; that is, people who refuse to move on by holding labels over a person or circumstance; they are mentally “stuck” on one time period (or fixed memory) and one illusory facade without the ability to understand transience or natural change, as even rocks are transitory. Why was my brother Earl rendered in this situation? Since childhood, I always referred to him as the “doubting Thomas” of my family, so at one level, he is the “skeptic” within my consciousness. Some people have the idea that “being free of restraint” (melted bracelet) and “losing invariable identification” (melted wallet) can only be of negative implications, when that depends on the circumstances. My experiences with the Merkaba tell me that something outside of myself is needed to balance my place in the universe (in other words, my soulmate). My wife Zsuzsanna and I had also made cassettes of our singing together, mostly when we lived on Gellibrand Street in Clayfield. There are sometimes many layers to consider in a particular dream, depending on its type. This one seems to have more actual meaning than usual (though not just because it was vivid and non-lucid).
Morning of December 17, 2015. Thursday. In my dream, I am aware of our family as they are now, though our house seems somewhat different, with typically rotated or mirrored features in relationship to other rooms (not rotated or mirrored as a whole). The back story seems to imply that we had been to some sort of carnival earlier in the afternoon or similar type of event related to television shows or movies. There were a few celebrities there. (The event took place a few blocks south of our house.) Meanwhile, there is a leak in a small pipe in our bathroom, seemingly from one corner of the room and from the water main - with only clean water (no awful plumbing mishaps as some dreams dictate). At different times, there is more water on the floor than at other times, but it does not seem that problematic or have a potential for a greater degree of flooding throughout other rooms. I have a black-and-white photograph of Catwoman (though I am not sure of which actress; possibly any one of several, including at least three from the 1960s). It is mostly a head and shoulders shot, mostly facing forward. It seems autographed on the lower right but I do not attempt to check the name for whatever reason (it may read “Catwoman” in part rather than the actress name). It may in fact be a “new” fictional version of Catwoman (with an unknown or unfamiliar actress), since we apparently had met her and a few other characters at the showgrounds about an hour or so before (though I do not directly recall the event even in my dream). After interacting with my family for a short time in our house, I notice that the photograph has a few drops of water near the right side, about halfway down. Carefully wiping it off with my right shirt sleeve, it leaves blank white circular spots on the photograph in a triangular arrangement over the otherwise black Catwoman outfit. This makes me so angry that I slowly but deliberately tear the photograph in half from the side, soon followed by tearing it up completely, saying that it was ruined. I then say how it was a waste of time going to the showgrounds (which is not all that logical, as a photograph does not have to account for time spent, especially if the day was enjoyable during a family outing). Around this time, I notice more water coming out of the pipe and a few puddles on the floor, but there is never a problematic flooding. (The toilet itself is mirrored in the bathroom from south to north in respect to the otherwise seemingly correct orientation to other rooms.) If a cat (when it does not represent an actual pet) sometimes symbolizes curiosity, then what would Catwoman represent? Since Zsuzsanna often dressed up as Catwoman when she was young, the act of tearing up the photograph may relate to my awareness that everyman honestly does not have the capacity to either believe or understand our lifelong unexplainable mystery (and there is no indication that humanity will be more aware or intelligent as such in my lifetime to utilize their own connection to the Source), though could also mean that, as my lifelong “mystery girl” was validated, she is no longer a fictional character on paper but my real soulmate. Water is the nature of consciousness, sleep, and memory (and ever-flowing “fluid” thought even in sleep), the main metaphorical essence of the dreaming mechanism itself. A leaking pipe may imply the dream state becoming stronger or clearer on some levels (even implying a closeness to Universal Mind) - though when utilizing a negative connotation, could imply problematic memory (as one supposedly has when they get older). However, I tear up the photograph (again, a static image) and so this incarnation of my dream self does not go further into the dream state in a more imaginative or surreal sense as it might have when more clearly focusing on the mystery (in this case, an “exotic” photograph) of the dream state. It stops, in fact, in a familiar environment (and accepts the setting as “real” and present - with only a vague implied back story of the previous showgrounds) where only some energies of deeper levels of the mind are present at some points. Water as memory begins to dissolve (or “whiten”) the static image, which is also a static “memory” at some levels - a balancing or phasing, perhaps - or simply an indication of the dream state itself. Thoughts about the failure of product longevity were a previous focus in real life just prior to sleep. For example, my very expensive monitoring headphones that are only about two years old are disintegrating around the headband into what resembles very thin larger ashes. However, more relevant to my dream’s situation, there is also a reflection on how printer ink now vanishes from commercial receipts after a short time, so that now you cannot even keep a receipt as proof of purchase. This seems to at least partly be a vague focus of my dream self at one point.
Morning of December 12, 2015. Saturday. In this dream, we have a pet penguin. The setting is our present home on W Street mostly as it is in real life. We are in our bed which seemingly has correct orientation regarding the overall layout. Nothing much happens over time other than the penguin rolling around and standing up near me a few times, mostly on my right (my wife Zsuzsanna being in bed at one point though on my left). It is not really that annoying. The detail seems fairly realistic. There seems to be no stronger concern regarding the idea of being nibbled or pecked even though that potential is vaguely in the back of my mind. A penguin has wings but cannot fly, so on one level, it is a “failed flight” feature relating to the waking transition, especially when not in its natural environment or swimming. This is validated by my “Penguin in a Jar” dream (1975) where the penguin takes on the symbolism of a fish and swims in a downward spiral deeper within the aquarium and my dream becomes more vivid, because on another level it relates to the dream state itself. The penguin being in our bed and not swimming (and lacking the ability to fly even though it has wings), it is metaphorical for my final stage of waking. One of my last dreams relating to a penguin was a distortion of the waking mechanism as well, when the alarm clock’s radio came on and I remained in my dream for a time and the announcer appeared in my dream as a chattering (and cartoon-like) penguin, wandering crazily through a random maze seemingly on the surface on a pinball playfield. Edited for clarity on Friday, 8 April 2016.
Morning of December 12, 2015. Saturday. Dream #: 17,890-02. Reading time: 1 min 56 sec. In my dream, my wife Zsuzsanna and our children and I are living in an unfamiliar residence. It is uncertain whether it is the front yard or backyard where the events occur. There is a big shed to my right (from the perspective of the doorway), so it may be our backyard. Two of our sons are playing. I notice our neighbor (an unfamiliar dream character about my age, but I seem to be younger) is cutting down one of our big trees from his side of the fence (my left), slightly above its height, closest the alley or street. (I should assume alley as it is probably the backyard.) It puzzles and angers me because trees provide shade and keep the yard cooler. I start yelling about it from our doorway though there is no reason why he would hear me due to the noise of his chainsaw. The tree falls into his yard. For a moment, I wonder if he had misjudged what he was doing and was struck by it, but that is not the case. He goes on to cut down an additional tree of ours that is slightly smaller and closer to our house. I cannot believe his audacity. However, I consider that our trees may have possibly caused problems by their roots being problematic, perhaps relating to issues with the fence itself or something on his property. I tell Zsuzsanna about it. The room is unfamiliar, and another door to the backyard is present though open. Our neighbor, who does not look like anyone I know, walks into our house with an angry look. I assume this is because he heard me yelling at him. “You have no business just waltzing into our house,” I say sternly and assertively. Another unknown male also comes into our house. He is younger, perhaps in his late thirties. He may be a man who was also in our neighbor’s yard and helping him. I walk over to him and punch him hard in the jaw, followed by another punch in the nose. He does not move back but sways slightly. He does not attempt to strike me. Much to my surprise, the other male also starts punching him from his left. I continue to hit him from his right. The other male punches him hard in the stomach a few times. I grab the bar (no weights) of a dumbbell to swing and hit him directly in the jaw again, three times. He almost falls. The other male does not look at me and continues to fight him. For a moment, I think the other man may think my usage of the metal bar is “unfair,” but he never speaks or stops punching the older male. I wake while wondering if the older man angered the younger man by trespassing into our house or otherwise annoying him. dream type: subliminal preconscious wall mediation
Morning of December 10, 2015. Thursday. The first segment of my dream is a vague grocery shopping event of a type I have had since the late 1970s, though in this case, my wife Zsuzsanna and children are known as they are now in reality. Still, the store does not seem familiar, though it is only rendered in my immediate surroundings and “foggy” beyond about eight feet in all directions. Based on the real directional orientation of our bed, it seems I am going easterly through the checkout. I do not notice any other people except for the (unfamiliar) cashier. From here, there is some sort of abstract distortion about having action figures all over a bed (dream sign) along with random (human) clothes and accessories for the action figures as well as a few unrelated miscellaneous items. One of the action figures is Thor. Thor is slightly smaller in scale than the other action figures, just enough to notice. Other action figures are Jean Grey, Wolverine, Magneto, Iron Man, and a few others. Jean Grey is actually the largest in scale compared to the others. There is some sort of confusion about playing a game with the action figures, which possibly relates to a board game. Thor’s clothes are missing and as such, he might as well be a Ken doll, it seems. I am also annoyed at the disorder of the various toys and game pieces and the apparent difficulty in quickly finding something. However, I eventually find Thor’s outfit (next to the other miscellaneous items and clothes, under my shirt) and am able to interact with my family in the informal game (which seems more like random playing around). I notice that Jean Grey has a large monochrome plastic basket (not that realistic in detail as it seems to resemble a My Little Pet Shop accessory) which seems to have a smaller basket extending from the side (this being oddly like a previous dream where a pot of gold icon had a smaller one right next to it - in the same orientation - on the left from my view). It is empty and may be unrelated to the game. Not much else happens. The setting is not rendered that clearly.
Morning of December 3, 2015. Thursday. This dream is of a fairly common focus where I can hover and float about vertically (as if standing though completely relaxed physically). This is sometimes a secondary awareness to other dream events (such as ones with some semblance of plot or circumstance, surreal or mundane, including shopping or just previously walking around). Interestingly, over time, it becomes known that hovering or flying is not legal (though I am not lucid at any point). I get a feeling that I am possibly in the UK (though this is not certain). Throughout my dream, I mostly fly vertically (upright), about a foot above the ground, though sometimes lean forward to fly in a diagonal position for shorter periods. Some people seem appreciative of me doing this even though it is not lawful. They find satisfaction in my “rebelliousness” of oppressive authority I suppose. I evade the authorities several times by flying (as they are not allowed to fly even if they have the ability, apparently). It seems odd to me that flying is illegal but then I sense that it probably relates to the prevention of getting in the way of aircraft and drones and such. In fact, I get the impression (though this is not certain) that flying may be legal in some areas if it is authorized and supervised by the government, though that does not seem a common situation. I am shot at, but either they always miss or I am somehow bulletproof. At one point, near an odd composite of my past middle school and a shopping mall, I am shot at and a grenade is also thrown at me. I throw it back and watch the colorful “realistic” explosion near the outer wall of the building. Eventually, I join a couple, a young male and female. The male is apparently not fully human; possibly some sort of animal (such as a lemur) and human hybrid, though he looks mostly human. The girl sings to him at one point. They are like me in that they evade authority and “do what comes naturally”. From here, I mostly just play around, not causing any fatalities even though I cause explosions and do not like being pursued (though the pursuit has mostly stopped by this point). I watch a “large” silver bus, which seems to be a Greyhound from the 1950s. It moves through an underpass though oddly (based on my full-body presence and perspective) seems only half the size of a real one (though is still fully three-dimensional and with “realistic” movement and momentum otherwise). This is actually typical of my dreams since childhood, where vehicles often seem miniature even though it is otherwise perceived as “normal” (and without me presumed as being a giant). I throw some grenades, which are somewhat like (toy) jacks and are supposedly harmless even though they cause a lot of noise and fire. The bus squeaks to a stop. I am aware that no one is injured but they are probably baffled. After this, a similar bus approaches, though this one is about three-quarters the size of a real one. I throw more “grenades”, which make more popping noises and fire, but not as large in contrast to the other smaller bus. The three-quarter-sized people do not seem as much in awe as the other (half-sized people) group. (Jacks as small grenades is somewhat of an unusual idea.)
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