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    1. Dragon Costume

      by , 09-23-2015 at 03:23 PM
      Morning of September 23, 2015. Wednesday.

      Dream #: 17,810-02. Reading time (optimized): 1 min.



      Two men and a woman are getting ready for a television series about humanoid dragons. It seems as if one of the actors is cannibalistic, and the other two become wary of him. They share an apartment or dressing room. I am present but not involved in the show.

      The scene changes. I am at a post office with Zsuzsanna. I seem to be in my late twenties. I received a package containing a somewhat realistic dragon costume with detailed scale patterns. I open it and go to the opposite side of the unfamiliar building where there is another bench of the same appearance.

      I wear the bottom left side. It is a fancy boot with green scales attached to a pants leg (with green scales) around my waist. I wear part of the top as well (possibly also a mask or part of it). I realize I must have left the right side of the costume behind, so I walk back to retrieve it. Other people are around. I look at my left foot and leg as I walk (with vivid movement and momentum). My right leg and foot are not costumed, but my right boot is fancy, like the gray snakeskin cowboy boots I had years ago. I do not feel embarrassed or out of place in half a costume and mismatched boots even though others notice (but do not react). Each side feels different as I walk (producing different barely audible sounds), but not out of balance. I feel cheerful.


      Updated 11-22-2019 at 08:59 AM by 1390

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      Uncategorized
    2. Selling a Truck in Brazil

      by , 09-21-2015 at 08:46 AM
      Morning of September 21, 2015. Monday.



      This is a long dream with a clear and maintained perspective, though never lucid. I am in Brazil and speaking Brazilian Portuguese throughout, though there is also a consistent awareness that everything translates into English in “real time”. It starts out in a slum near some markets at the top of a higher hill though I eventually find my way to a different area where a Caucasian male (probably in his early thirties) is attempting to sell a pickup truck to an older Brazilian male. I interrupt their conversation, saying that I can sell him the truck he needs. I tell him to wait where he is and I will bring it around (from behind a building at an intersection). No truck exists yet, though I know I can just manifest one and sell it to him (again, even though I have no lucid awareness).

      I go to an area out of sight from the other males and see at least one outdoor cafe. There are a lot of people around. I mentally focus and a dark blue pickup truck appears, and some people are somewhat surprised. I drive it back the short distance to the other males and show it to the potential buyer. He seems interested but I tell him I have another one I can show him. It seems important that the truck can be driven on an incline and this vehicle may not be powerful enough.

      I go around and mentally will another pickup truck into existence. This one is smaller and of an orange color but it is a newer model than the previous. When I take it to the potential buyer though, the bed is apparently too small to hold as much as he needs it to. I then remember that modern new products are not only not made very well (or made to last very long), but that there has been a problematic trend towards miniaturization of everything. I tell him that I will go and bring back a third pickup truck which I am sure he will find suitable.

      I go around to the cafe area again to create a pickup truck out of thin air for the third time. This one is a red one from the 1950s. When I bring it around (being careful not to hit any of the obstacles coming out of the parking lot and into the street again), I notice that instead of a cab, the front now looks a bit like an oversized steering area of my old Red Flyer wagon and the seating area is external. Still, I am able to control it and steer it without falling off the front, though it is an odd way to drive a vehicle, almost reminiscent of a stage coach. The potential buyer looks at the bed and I notice a lot of pillow stuffing in the back covered partly with an old worn dark green tarpaulin. This seems a bit annoying and is evidence it had been used a lot previously, but after a few minutes, the older male wants to buy it, because it is large enough and useful, and he needs one right away to carry on with his jobs. He asks me how much and I say “a hundred and fifty dollars”. He pays me in Brazilian Real. His son gives it to him and he gives it to me. It is in a small thin envelope that looks like it may hold airplane tickets instead.

      At this point, the other male that was first trying to sell him a truck looks at me and says that he cannot believe it, though he does not seem angry. He probably wonders where I got all the trucks. I have a slight concern that the people on the other side of the buildings will reveal that my trucks came out of nowhere like magic, which may bring about confusion or gossip. I decide to leave the region for now.

      From here, my dream shifts, though remains in the same general setting. There are soon many more people around. I am aware of an unknown female of about forty holding a penknife up to her throat as she is walking around. It seems she may be intent on committing suicide as well as perhaps infecting other people with her blood and I know that I need to be away from any blood spray, though nothing actually happens and I am able to leave the area without incident.

      There are some curious plays on lucid dreaming (even though I am not lucid at any point) and sleep in this dream. Firstly, there is the creation of three vehicles to drive (out of mind power alone) that even have “beds”. The last truck’s bed even has pillow stuffing under a cover (which I do not even catch represents the sleeping process itself). The “interpretation” is, that although I am creating vehicles to steer out of nothing (with the enhanced change and focus on the Red Flyer’s steering section), I still do not become lucid even when my dream relates to metaphorically “driving the bed”. I find this dream very amusing, including with the “Brazilian Real” as the currency used. One hundred and fifty dollars relates to Dunbar’s number. “By using the average human brain size and extrapolating from the results of primates, he (Dunbar) proposed that humans can only comfortably maintain 150 stable relationships”. The small envelope that looks like it is for airplane tickets probably is a nod to the waking process (or leaving my dream). I am not sure about the woman at the end unless she simply represents cutting off the dream state.

    3. Star Storm and Being a Lamp

      by , 09-13-2015 at 03:13 PM
      Morning of September 13, 2015. Sunday.



      I am in a seemingly isolated area that feels somewhat elevated (such as some sort of “floating” featureless room), in semi-lucidity, enough to know that my conscious thoughts can make and shape my (unscripted in this case) dream. I think about a snowstorm for no particular reason and I watch a few snowflakes swirl through the air outside, in the darkness of seeming night, seemingly looking west (considering the vague focus and orientation of our real bedroom). I see no land features, just the snowflakes. After a few minutes, I see a blizzard though I do not feel cold at any point. I feel a deep sense of peace for a time, watching the snowflakes swirl around.

      I eventually get a vague idea that I am looking into outer space rather than looking outside and into a snowstorm, and then I eventually realize that I “actually” am looking into a “real” outer space scene. Now, stars and planets are swirling around, crashing into each other with brilliant explosions. I am somewhat amused that a simple blizzard transforms into such an amazing chaotic event that seems to imply “the end of the universe”. I start thinking of the scene being reminiscent of “The Wizard of Oz”, where Dorothy is watching all the strange imagery through her window. I even do a vocal “doot-doo” version of the scene where Miss Gulch is riding her bicycle.

      I soon get the idea that the little melody of Miss Gulch’s bicycle ride is not really that suitable for the end of the universe, so I try to vocalize “The Ride of the Valkyries” but keep shifting into the “National Geographic” theme. No matter what, I cannot grasp the melody from “The Ride of the Valkyries” without it switching to the other tune. I “realize” that the two pieces have much the same music but with slightly different timing and accented parts. The exact “The Ride of the Valkyries” melody keeps eluding me and I get more and more frustrated that I cannot remember it correctly. In the background, the “National Geographic” theme keeps distracting and even “teasing” me every time I get a little of the other tune correct.

      From here, I see that the end of the universe has changed into a basketball game. This seems reasonable, as a sphere is still bouncing about the “cosmos”. I watch passively for several minutes.

      “Could you move?” says a young friendly female voice from behind me. Indeed. I find that I had not been looking out a window (even though I was - my dream just typically changed as such), but sitting in front of a large television where a basketball game is being broadcast (and perhaps the other scenes were relevant to a cowboy show followed by a channel changing to an astronomy show followed by it being changed to this basketball game). It is a young version of my wife, seated on a couch and wearing a light pink robe, but in a scenario that implies it is years before we met. “I didn’t know girls watched basketball,” I say. I get up and suddenly stop when I see two people I do not know coming into the room. They are likely token parents of Zsuzsanna’s in this scene. So, obviously, I transform into an antique brass floor lamp. The “father” comes over and pinches my nose and my “bulb”, implied to be at about the same level as my head, lights up the room a bit better. Zsuzsanna has an extraordinarily mischievous grin growing on her face, as she seems to be eating popcorn.

      Remembering that I am dreaming (rather than my lucidity being consistent throughout), I decide to try to come out of my brass floor lamp camouflage. This is difficult and I succeed only in wobbling my base while rocking side to side, making a curious clanging sound on the wooden floor. The other male looks around curiously, but then continues to chop some spring onion in the kitchen.

      Well, I cannot move as a lamp, so I might as well wake up, which I do.
    4. “Lost” Babies (partially precognitive outcome)

      by , 09-13-2015 at 03:13 PM
      Morning of September 13, 2015. Sunday.



      This is a long meandering dream of watching a fictional spin-off to the television series “Lost”, which is not the first time this has happened, and resultant dreams always have baffling inconsistent plots.



      My wife Zsuzsanna and family and I are apparently living in a new unique version of my Cubitis home. This time, the layout is similar to reality, but an additional design is implemented. The original layout is rotated one-hundred-eighty degrees and then superimposed on the original so that there is a hallway to the northwest as well as to the southeast. Of all my dreams set in Cubitis since 1968, this is the first time this particular distortion has been rendered as far as I know. The television is near the center of the room and we are facing mostly north while watching it, but holographic projections of the characters emerge at times and although they do not interact with us, they seem like a “real” presence now and then. (The albino ones vaguely remind me of the supposed alien energy beings on “Under the Dome”.)

      This version of “Lost” has the original characters appear as children and focuses more on adventures they had while growing up, seemingly in a rural area. The main focus is on Hugo “Hurley” Reyes and the child version of him even has unusual sideburns. There also seem to be very unusual young albino versions of all the characters (who interact with the original characters) though who may be connected to some sort of experiment as they seem more like less-defined waves of energy at one point, or almost like suspended chalky vibrant water taking on human form. At one point, the characters are “real” and mostly to the right of my armchair in a small group facing my direction. They are talking to an adult who was not in the original show; a young black female detective.

      There are two scenes in which an adult John Locke (Terry O'Quinn) is killed. It surprises me that they killed off a main character (so thus my actual memory of the series is truly lacking in my dream). One scene involves him lying on his back over a bed of nails submerged in the middle of a fast-flowing river. Another scene involves him falling through the floor of some sort of unusual room and also dying, due to enemies on the island finding him and pulling a special lever in the cave-like room.

      There are a lot of random distractions in the various scenes and no cohesive plot of any kind for the most part. John Locke, I reason, must be being continuously cloned (or otherwise somehow “copied”) for him to die more than once.

      Finally, the episode is drawing to a close (and it really did seem like an entire hour and perhaps even longer) and Zsuzsanna and I are ready to go to bed. Oddly, however, I “remember” or come to “realize” that Terry O'Quin is staying with us. I have this clear idea in my mind on asking him about what I had just seen (as I do not seem to recall all of it, at least precisely). I especially want to know about some other trends to be appearing on the show. I see him approaching our living room from the south hallway.

      I speak clearly to him, “How many times did you die in this episode. Two? Or three?” He says in a friendly respectful manner that he had died twice in the episode that Zsuzsanna and I had just watched. I start to ask him about other details of the series. At this point he raises his left index finger vertically up to his lips as if to “shush” me, but also grins in a very friendly manner. He apparently does not want to reveal any upcoming surprises concerning the show. I also realize that he just wants to get some sleep. He then does an exaggerated tiptoe walk to the (fictional) north hallway and I see for the first time that he is wearing a woman’s silky teal-colored nightgown that comes to just above his knees. I see this as a little unusual, but I start to wake after this.



      Yet again, my dream reflects precognitive and shared associations (remember that I do not always include this in online versions as it happens continuously and it would take up too much time for me to indicate each and every event from day to day), in the loose and impersonal manner they usually do. In this case, just as I was writing this, Zsuzsanna tells me of a show with kids and one old man in a dress who resembled Terry O'Quin and even did the exact same mannerism with the “shushing” gesture.
    5. Small Gifts

      by , 09-12-2015 at 03:12 PM
      Morning of September 12, 2015. Saturday.



      A small beautiful hand is very well-defined and well-rendered. It moves ever so slightly. I appreciate the three-dimensionality of the fingers being slightly closer to me, though I am more in the center of the room at first. There is a sense of deep peace and an essence of bliss. I find myself in a mostly empty semi-dark room with one four-paned window, open only about an inch. There is a gentle rain outside, some of the droplets seeming to fall on large leaves from the sound of it, perhaps elephant ear plants. A young girl in a white hooded dressing gown is webbed to the wall to the left of the window (on my left) but also a bit onto the actual window, mostly facing the wall but slightly turned to the right. The silky, seemingly glowing spider web covers her everywhere, head to toe, and out to the floor a bit, all but her left forearm and hand (though it seems her left shoulder is webbed against the wall). I notice five very small blueberries in the palm of her hand, none touching each other. I do not know who it is, but I assume, because of the ecstatic nature of the imagery and the strange but pleasant sensations in my skin, that it can only be an essence of my wife.

      I take one of the blueberries and eat it and the taste is very sweet. I take a second one after due consideration, and the taste is very slightly different but still nice (as with blueberries in real life, as well as strawberries; each and every one always tastes slightly different from every other). Regardless of being “woven” into the intricate spider web, the girl is seemingly alive and very healthy; just in some sort of “hibernation” perhaps. The scene is not gruesome at all; it is amazingly pleasant (and I see no actual spider at any point, though I suspect it is a redback or black widow that somehow made all the intricate webbing). She does not open her eyes at any point. I consider having a third blueberry, but the sensations in my skin are almost “too” pleasurable, so I leave her with three and I casually throw myself backwards into oblivion, falling into various beautiful abstract images and flashes of pure blue.
    6. Colorful Infestation (Recurring)

      by , 09-12-2015 at 03:12 PM
      Morning of September 12, 2015. Saturday.



      I have not posted that many infestation dreams, though I have had several per year since early childhood. It usually involves unusual unique-looking (but problematic) bugs getting into the house as well as mice in some versions.

      In this case, our house is somewhat unidentified. It resembles our present one in some ways but seems to have features of our last home (on Barolin Street) as well.

      The main scene involves large velvet ants crawling up one corner of a wall and mostly remaining near the ceiling, making a trail through the house, and going out through another corner. I spray them with a can of insecticide a few times (not that worried about the spray going back into my face), but this only seems to work near the end of my dream. There is also a point at which only one gets on my arm and latches on and I pinch it and pull it off. The sensations are quite realistic.

      There are also some sort of unusual beetles (which can fly) in a fictional back room, approaching a doorway in a line, crawling over the top of some sort of built-in table or counter-top (though the room is like a large storage area). Eventually, I spray the middle of their main line and they stop forming larger groups.

      Near the end of my dream, I notice large groups of different-colored mice in our living room. They are grouped by color. (A group of mice is apparently called “a mischief of mice”, though that is just a bit too silly to implement in my writing.) A large group of green mice crawls about to the right and red and blue units are to the left. There is also a smaller group of yellow mice in the foreground. For some reason, this strange scene does not trigger any degree of lucidity regardless of the intense vividness of the bug presence. In fact, it is rather “pretty” though still inherently problematic. There must be at least two hundred or more mice. Suddenly, as if just seeing me as a threat for the first time, they scramble, making a thunderous noise (and shaking the house itself) as they go off in divisions of their particular color and as I get the impression they are going back into the walls of our house. I am not too concerned, as I just do not want them inside the rooms of our house.

      Dreams like this are often caused by being temporarily annoyed by people (though sometimes caused by fasting in too cold or too hot weather); in this case, an NBN worker hanging around close to our house all day (thanks to the NBN cabinet that was installed right near our house without any notice, right in the middle of the footpath - how stupid) and playing a car radio from prior to sunrise, the vehicle actually parked on our footpath as if he cannot walk that couple of extra feet when leaving the area. (I honestly do not know what is wrong with these people other than being completely thoughtless with no seeming respect for residents or any responsibility for their presence or unwarranted and unjust impositions or actions.)
    7. Uncursed

      by , 09-11-2015 at 03:11 PM
      Morning of September 11, 2015. Friday.



      In my dream, I had been making love to Zsuzsanna in a semi-lucid state and suddenly feel a bit more perceptive than usual in such a situation. She looks beautiful and goddess-like. I tell her that I “brought her here” as an experiment and for her to look around the setting (even though she has already been present in many dreams about Cubitis as well as La Crosse). Outside, I see a beautiful garden and layout. There are unrealistically large coleus blumei everywhere (instead of all the huge prickly pears and ugly caterpillar-infested red canna lilies that were eventually practically everywhere in reality prior to my family’s move back to Wisconsin), some in large plant pots placed in perfect lines along the shed and parts of the backyard. The beauty of the imagery is astounding.

      There is a strange “division” of time. Even though I am my present self on one level, “my” house is otherwise empty (other than my own manipulation of the setting and “preserving” of how it was before) and supposedly in the distant past. Lisa’s old house immediately to the south, however, is still technically “cursed” and empty, and the outside covered with several layers of mold and old vines, parts of the front porch blocked up with concrete blocks (and mostly as it presently looks now in real life). I want to look in the house, but my wife does not like the idea. However, my motive is pure and to confirm that the house is in complete ruin and unfit for a human being to even be within several feet of. I do not even care that people apparently cannot enter and leave with their sanity intact. I feel good about the idea of an empty ruined house covered with mold and vines next to “my” in-dream home. It makes me feel alive and happy and with an enhanced sense of privacy.

      Somehow though, we end up in town. I seem to be on my own for a time. I do not recognize anyone (even though they are around my age or older). I am in what seems to be a small store. An older male is seated on a chair near the entrance. Even though I do not know anyone in the immediate setting, I ask him if he remembers me. He has no idea who I am. I tell him that I will travel back into the past, meet him and be his friend for a few months, and then come back to the present and ask him if he remembers me then. He seems to agree to this odd concept and arrangement, but it still does not work. He then does not even remember what I had asked him the first time around (before I went to the past). I become annoyed and leave.

      I eventually find myself in a tavern. There are quite a few people sitting on bar stools. One of them looks like a very old version of Lisa, perhaps about seventy (which makes no sense as she is younger than me). Her parents look like young teenage versions of themselves even though they are still her “real” parents. Her “mother” says that she has to come home and her “father” does not even want to look at her, though just tells her to come back home while even blocking his face with his right arm for a short time. Not many want to look, apparently, because her face is extraordinarily distorted. I notice that her mouth looks quite bizarre, her teeth two times longer than they should be and metallic as well as being at various random angles. I do not question either the “impossible mouth” or the teenage parents of a very old lady (even though I had been semi-lucid at the beginning of my dream).

      Eventually, I am distracted by the behavior of the “parents”, and decide to heal a few people in the area. I go outside and see the same male I had talked with earlier. From here, miniature clouds of soft blue fire float and waver upward into the air from my hands and this is supposed to be “restoring” elements of the town and people somehow. The male seems to become a bit younger (or at least healthier in overall appearance) and more cheerful.




      Updated 06-18-2018 at 05:33 PM by 1390

      Categories
      lucid
    8. Distorted Meandering and Media Manipulation

      by , 09-11-2015 at 09:18 AM
      Morning of September 11, 2015. Friday.



      The intersection setting has been more recurring of late, though I am not certain as to why. I suppose it could relate to a metaphorical “crossroads” in regard to trying to solve certain mysteries through extensive research and not really making as much progress as I would like (though I have achieved some amazing new breakthroughs). On the other hand, it could simply be an in-dream metaphor for the choice of remaining either at apex lucidity or choosing to become passive. Although this dream is lucid, it becomes quite distorted, as I mostly remain passive in order to observe, especially things like writing, though which I cannot fully read at any point as it is.

      My dream seems to start near an unknown intersection, though vaguely reminds me of Stadcor Street (in Australia) as well as King Street (in America). The setting is ambiguous though and seems to be indoors and out on the street at the same time. In fact, I even willfully shift our location a bit so that the “floor” of the setting seems to move out of the range of any potential traffic (though I do not see any vehicles approaching at any point.) I notice that my wife Zsuzsanna, who is seated on her knees, and who seems only slightly puzzled at my manipulation of “sliding” our dream placement, has some sort of computerized display on the “floor”, probably an iPad, though a little bigger. The fairly large writing is in landscape format.

      I try to read it and become completely clear and lucid for a short time, though this does not do much good as the writing makes no sense at any point. I notice the phrase “dog mxtre”, which I take to mean “mixture”, though it is mostly random letters and gibberish. There is something like “coup de gras” but mostly the screen is an incoherent mess of nonsensical words. The phrases do change a few times with one or two actual words here and there, but just when I think I am getting something interesting or potentially meaningful, I realize it is solely gibberish.

      During this time I find a newspaper article on events in a park that also somehow relate to sexual acts that are not permitted. There seem to be at least a hundred by-laws that specifically limit the nature of sensuality. It seems very clinical and yet senseless, as if society is ruled by a “mechanical” mentality that does not even recognize the nature or pleasures of organic life. One of the phrases relates how the heel of the foot is not to be used for gratification in making contact with the partner’s bottom (regarding the cleft). I do not go on to read much of the rest of the long list.

      From here, I seem to be in a room with my wife, though my mother (deceased October 2, 2002) is also present, along with a few other people in the background. The news is on, on television, and I go closer to watch it carefully, though only semi-lucid at this point. The news announcer is making references to how fantastic and amazing the sound of a snow leopard is. He goes on and on as the screen mostly shows the head of the snow leopard in profile, facing to the right. After several minutes, the snow leopard still has not made a sound, though I continue to watch. As the news announcer goes on and on in praise, there is not much movement of the animal. In fact, it looks a bit annoyed by the presence of the television cameras.

      Finally though, it makes a roaring sound, still with its head facing to the right of the television screen. However, it does not seem quite real. The news announcer continues to jabber mindlessly. Eventually, the snow leopard seems to speak in a very raspy and breathy voice, “Hank…has not been…ly…ing” (“Hank has not been lying” - in reference to the implied but false “honesty” of the news announcer), which is very low-pitched yet still with a discernible melody. I am aware however, that the video has been edited quite amateurishly to make the mouth seem to move with the words.

      My mother rolls her eyes and subtly shakes her head and looks frustrated and somewhat angry over the news announcer’s attempts to trick people with ridiculous manipulated video and audio.

      Yet again, my dream renders unlikely things my wife had seen with no possible way of me knowing. In this case, it was two elements; my wife being endangered by a thoughtless driver while walking near an intersection and also, as odd as it sounds, my wife had recently seen something on her own on television about an owner of a gray and white cat (similar colors as a snow leopard) trying to make it look and sound as if it was talking while it was meowing. However, my wife said the commentator in that case made a note that it was obviously fake due to the owner manipulating its sound as the camera held the same orientation as the image in my dream according to my wife. I have never been thoughtless enough to think something like that could be coincidence, especially as it happens continuously and often on higher levels of precision in imagery and events. I continue to remain baffled, not by continuous precognition and remote viewing since earliest memory but how other people do not experience this (or at least claim not to for whatever reason - it just does not add up).

      Updated 09-11-2015 at 10:30 AM by 1390

      Categories
      lucid
    9. Reminiscing with the King Street Pinhead (with map)

      by , 09-10-2015 at 03:10 PM
      Morning of September 10, 2015. Thursday.



      Last updated Sunday, 27 September 2015: I added a rough map with textual corrections, as past online versions of this entry did not describe the correct directional orientation. I offer my apologies and I thank you for your interest in my extensive and meticulous dream work.

      The outdoor setting in my dream is of a fictional layout (though with known familiar features in the wrong place), and yet, it is somehow the “same” area I supposedly lived on King Street in the 1980s. The King Street boarding house, rather than being on the corner, is moved in my dream about one large lot westerly from the corner. This alteration, to my knowledge, has never occurred as such in any dream. That is, to my knowledge (and extensive dream records), I have never dreamt about (or ever imagined while awake as far as I recall) the King Street boarding house being anywhere but on a corner of an intersection (and usually in the correct location except for a few dreams where it seemed more westward relative to the rest of La Crosse).

      I am with Leonard S, the Polish pinhead (and unlike Schlitzie, who was also male, Leonard always dressed in men’s clothing). Usually when he appears in a dream (at least over the past twenty years), it is an ordinary conversation or experience somewhat enhanced with a cheerful mood. This time, I am reminiscing over when I first met him, though there does not seem to be a back story regarding my implied age as he himself looks as he did around 1980, perhaps even a few years younger (possibly looking as he did before I met him in real life). However, the “memory” is entirely fictional. I talk to him about when I supposedly found a toy soldier buried in the ground in the empty lot to the left of the boarding house when looking southward (and as already stated, this layout did not exist in reality), near the southwest corner of the lot, just before I met him. I apparently soon gave it “back” to him (assuming he had lost it, though perhaps he deliberately buried it - this is not certain). He does not seem confused or annoyed over this faux memory and my telling of it. Most of what I relate seems fairly “realistic” until I wake.

      I visualize the empty lot, which seems to be at night. Much of the front of the boarding house itself looks similar otherwise. In the majority of dreams concerning Leonard, he often seemed of near-average intelligence. In real life, though, he would do a lot of unusual things, such as, upon seeing a girl, shout “Puddytat! Foooooos!” and would paw the air. Still, he was friendlier, more outgoing, and more generous than a lot of normal people.

      Updated 09-27-2015 at 11:30 AM by 1390

      Categories
      non-lucid
    10. System Breach of Computerized Building

      by , 09-09-2015 at 03:09 PM
      Morning of September 9, 2015. Wednesday.



      I am apparently at a department of education building, possibly in Brisbane, but it is more like my old school in Arcadia. However, the building may actually be at least four storeys high or more, though I think we are on the top floor. There also seem to be classes held at times or at least meetings, mostly with eighteen-year-olds and up. I am with my wife Zsuzsanna in one of the rooms and I start to work on a subtraction program for our two youngest sons to enhance their speed in general mathematics. Over time, I am actually able to read and resolve the code, but I still do not feel it is perfect, as I want to make sure there are no errors in how the digits are presented and such in columns (though I still want the randomization to be reasonable).

      My wife and I seem to be the only people in the building at first at one point (though I sensed our two youngest sons were there earlier), as I sense it is late at night and the building has mostly been locked for the night. However, at least one other person, an obnoxious young Ivy Leaguer from Yale of about twenty years old (who seems a fictional associate or old classmate at one point, though I never went to Yale) is in the building, but is causing problems with the building’s security as well as possibly damaging or altering cache copies of extensive records and educational reports and administration feedback and with the seeming goal of replacing important information with mindless gossip about each and every teacher and student. He is even putting glitches in the calculus programs and altering images and data in civics and sociology programs. I decide to alter the building’s computer system and block access to the internal workings of the building and all the records. This is unusual in that the building itself is like a computer relative to software-driven doors, lights, elevator functions, and many other features. It is as if everything in the building is somehow linked to computer software (though seemingly not voice-driven).

      The pad for the main building’s system looks like Windows calculator. I falsely “remember” a special function that does not cause the building to “self-destruct” but to cause total confusion for clueless intruders and would-be vandals. I enter the Qword DEAD C0DE 0BAD FEED as a hexadecimal input (with of course the “0” being a zero as the letters only go from A to F, thus why it is called hexadecimal - for the six letters). This causes random byte values to be placed in random buffers all over the building in every software-driven section, similar to the “poke” command on old Commodore 64 computers (though in this case does not breach the internal records, which are all backed up in non-adjacent systems). Various lights go off and on randomly and even random doors open and close. This seems to all be taking place on at least the third floor at this point.

      After awhile, the unknown male comes out of a room and seems annoyed. He tells me that all this chaos will alert the authorities (or possibly even randomly trigger an alarm). He seems to think I am “with” him, but my wife and I just want him out and then we will leave the building. He apparently thinks it is amusing to disrupt the educational and social progress of people of all ages (including children). When we are walking in a hall, I push him into a malfunctioning elevator that is halfway between floors but the fall does not injure him that badly. This scene is the most vivid and realistic part of my dream, though I am not lucid at any point. (This also now triggers a memory of when my sister Marilyn used to say “his elevator doesn’t go to the top floor” when talking about an annoying or less-intelligent person.)

      From here, I notice some sort of meeting being held in one classroom, which I can see through the glass walls and horizontal darker zebrawood beams on the other side of the hall from the elevator. The speaker is an older lady with gray hair and somewhat stocky (she does not look at all familiar in any way). She seems very friendly and responsive. I ask her if there are any authorities in the building but at this point, things seem to be getting back to normal as it seems the intruder has left the building (or possibly already caught by security guards or police), which has rebooted itself with one of the random values triggering the reboot function. My wife and I go to the first floor.

      Just prior to us walking from the building into the late night (or very early morning), I notice we are completely undressed. I am not even sure how and when that happened. Perhaps one of the random values triggered the erasing of our clothes, but that is only a very vague and very brief contemplation. I pull a thin bed sheet seemingly out of nowhere (out of the air itself, it seems) to cover myself as we walk home, feeling quite happy at this point.



      Updated 06-18-2018 at 05:58 PM by 1390

      Categories
      non-lucid
    11. No Hit After All

      by , 09-09-2015 at 12:41 PM
      Morning of September 9, 2015. Wednesday.



      In the first part of my dream, which does not flow directly into the next scenes, I am on stage playing a flute for a seemingly long time; a very long version of “For My Lady” (from Seventh Sojourn from 1972, which I had on cassette for a number of years) and I seem to actually be performing with The Moody Blues. From here, I eventually fly from the stage into an (at first) unknown region.

      I decide to walk for awhile. Eventually, I seem to be in an undesirable part of town. For some reason, an unknown male approaches me. I first think that his intent is to rob me, so I say how I know (I think) someone named Tony, who apparently leads a group of gangsters. I had never met this person, but the other male walks back to his apartment building, taking me along in a friendly manner.

      When we reach the building and the small room which is somewhat kitchen-like, there is a young gangster in a T-shirt who is smoking and who is apparently the leader. He is seated on a small wooden chair. A burly male stands by another door. Oddly, the leader seems to acknowledge me as “David”, which the other male calls me as if that is my actual name (though I can tell he does not remember me - though also can sense he accepts me as someone he knew years ago). I get a vague impression that David was the human name of the Incredible Hulk, but it is not pertinent to any aspect of my dream. I really do not want to hang around these people so I make the excuse that I will leave and do a “hit” for them, as the leader seems to be broke and the idea of a “hit” is supposedly to get money (rather than just kill someone) and not necessarily kill the person you are robbing.

      I leave and eventually reach the front of the building. Unexpectedly, the “staircase” is made of old pieces of railroad ties that were split in half and are arranged downward like a diagonal crooked ladder rather than steps. I have to climb down, which is somewhat annoying, trying on both my stomach and in crab position. Two very happy young Jamaican boys (probably only about three years old) are also playing on the diagonal ladder on my left and climbing down. I have a bit of concern for them, as the structure eventually goes down into seemingly deep water. An immensely overweight Jamaican woman is on my right and has to climb over me to get to her children but it is not that problematic and there is no drama. Humorously, now is the time I pick to fly up and away, rather than having done it from the top of the problematic faux staircase.

      From here, I fly north down Tenth Street, past the King Street boarding house on the corner and to my left, flying about five feet from the ground. Someone shouts as if annoyed, so I fly much higher, but then fly back down to about ten feet from the street. Eventually, I think about visiting relatives, but soon realize that most of my relatives in this region have died. I fly past an unfamiliar bakery (which is on my right) where there is a red-haired girl visible through the large front windows and seemingly taking something out of a large oven, possibly muffins or cookies. I wave absentmindedly and she waves back but does not seem that friendly. I somehow think it is Anita (who never had red hair) but then I realize it is my wife’s younger half-sister Leila, who we have not seen in years (and she has never been to America as far as I know). I continue to fly on and upward and then decide that I should fly back home so I can “finally” wake up (even though I had not been actively lucid at any point). I am glad to wake up and be “back” with my wife and family.
      Categories
      non-lucid
    12. Sudden Garden

      by , 09-07-2015 at 08:54 AM
      Morning of September 7, 2015. Monday.



      This dream may have partly been influenced by briefly thinking about the number nine due to reading and checking an older entry and how, on one (symbolic) imagery level, it is like a seed growing a root.

      My wife Zsuzsanna and our children and I are in Cubitis, at the north side of my childhood home and near the edge of the carport, more towards the driveway on the west end. I plant some seeds along the perimeter (where my mother sometimes had a garden in real life but mostly red canna lilies and coleus blumei). Surprisingly, they start to grow almost immediately. My wife’s mother is there in the background but her behavior is not problematic, oddly enough.

      There are three types of plants that rapidly grow (so fast, we have to move out of the way), one being watermelon, though the watermelons grow nearly as big as a person and taste like strawberries (though otherwise they look like watermelon). Another type is like cabbage but unrealistic in that the leaves are more like spinach and in thick layers (as if stacked and compressed into the spherical form). Still, I eat my way through half a head and the flavor is actually enjoyable. The other type is dragon fruit, but it grows quite tall and the fruit hangs down more from the top of the plant, being reminiscent of a bent-over street light. The dragon fruit imagery gives me a very vague impression (though not really enough to focus much on it in that light in-dream) of the “neck” and “head” of the 1953 “War of the Worlds” spaceship design.
    13. Imposing Possible Appraisers

      by , 09-06-2015 at 07:44 PM
      Morning of September 6, 2015. Sunday.



      This is mostly an ordinary dream of a typical passive perspective. At one point, I become aware that three younger men, all around thirty perhaps, are sitting in our living room. I am not sure of what circumstances or implied back story brought this about though I do not seem annoyed as I often am in such dreams. Our house seems different, with more open space in the rooms and larger overall as well.

      I do not seem to know who the males are. I first consider that they are new tenants for a nearby house. I make an absentminded comment about some people not living in any place for more than a few months. I also make a sarcastic comment about the conditions of the houses in the region. They do not seem amused and I start to think that they may be some sort of real estate appraisers. They make unrealistic comments about how nice the houses are but I do not respond.

      Soon, I notice that when I look out the window, there is only a field of tall dry grass across the street from our house. I get the impression that there are not many other houses or buildings around after all, and that what I thought of as a street is actually a (fictional) back road in a somewhat isolated area. This seeing of the high golden grass through the window (instead of a large parking lot as in reality - though it was actually a large field before this) and realizing there are not many neighbors makes me feel good and makes me consider that my “complaints” were unwarranted. My flawed thinking does not trigger lucidity in any way. The men continue to talk about the nature of the houses and their value though I also get the impression that some maintenance or repair work may be done soon (not necessarily on our own house).

      At one point, I look out the kitchen window and notice the neighbor’s dog running around and barking in our backyard. I mention this to my wife but I do not go out. The dog, however, is a small beagle, and I become mildly amused rather than angry at the neighbor, at its random wandering about. I go back into the living room.

      After the men talk a bit more, they leave through the kitchen area, it seems, though I suddenly get suspicious and go into the kitchen myself. However, I do not see anyone but my wife Zsuzsanna and our youngest daughter. Zsuzsanna talks about getting some extra things in some sort of subscription to a craft series. (I am not sure if she just bought it at the newsagency - what they call magazine vendors here - or got it in the mail.)

      My wife goes into the living room to sit on the couch and I notice the transparent rectangular plastic box she has is filled with numerous random items. At least a few of the items are old ruined CDs that are meant to be used in a craft project. There is also a general appearance of similar items; for example, a small plastic lid of some sort that is of a lesser diameter than a CD though with a large circular hole in the center as well as a couple embroidery hoops and a couple round beverage coasters. Several of the items look as if they may be pieces of old toys meant to be used in a new craft project. My wife seems happy about the special cheaper price for the first part of the subscription series. I am not sure if a particular subscription project utilizes the random items, or if they are meant to be used for the individual ideas of the subscribers.
      Categories
      non-lucid
    14. Abstract Music

      by , 09-04-2015 at 07:10 AM
      Morning of September 4, 2015. Friday.



      My senses are not very clear in this sequence. Firstly, I am playing some sort of game with an unseen character (seemingly by proxy via some sort of radio broadcast but he may also be “present” though disembodied) though the plays and outcome are quite abstract and hard to describe and follow. The playing field is illogically on an otherwise featureless area of an electronic keyboard (where the voice settings and other features would otherwise be). There is something to do with placing very short lengths of “hair” (of only about one centimeter) into a pattern that seems to have no particular form. It seems difficult and annoying. We had apparently been playing awhile because the shape that is supposedly mine is like a large circular form, but it seems the other character is winning (though I am not sure why or even what the purpose or rules are). Eventually, as I do not seem to be the winner, I pick up my game result and it is somewhat like a furball though seemingly made of drawn lines that somehow are separated from the surface that they were originally drawn on.

      Later, I am on my side in a bed that is outside near an isolated intersection in a wooded area during the afternoon. I get a vague impression that there may be large dinosaurs (such as a tyrannosaurus) in the area. There is no fear or perceived threat of any kind, though. It is almost as if I am aware I can create any creature I want and have it run around by the intersection and along the perimeter of the forest. I absentmindedly choose not to focus more clearly to do this, though. Instead I am playing around with an electronic drum kit that also is like a digital sampler to capture at least an octave range of a particular sample.

      I press something (some sort of small rectangular button) and sample the ambiance of the area, which is barely audible. I try to play a melody on the pads, but the sample is not loud enough to hear. I try again and get some ambiance that is slightly louder, but mostly only wind through the trees, my breathing, and a distant (unknown) animal sound. From here, I am able to play a random melody with a rather odd sound (almost like a person saying “huh?”), though which eventually sounds more and more like an electric guitar. I remember that sound can be recorded from anywhere and turned into anything else.
    15. Unexpected Outcome

      by , 09-02-2015 at 03:02 PM
      Morning of September 2, 2015. Wednesday.



      I am a semi-active part of an unlikely scenario. It seems to be a group of soldiers that are attempting to rescue at least one hostage from a foreign military group in a forest. It does not seem to be related to a war, just an isolated incident, perhaps.

      The events are not that defined, but the enemy is on the other side of a linear cluster of trees. At one point, an M60 seems to be held by an enemy just past a couple of trees. This potential threat seems unrealistically delayed, as there is no drama or action as far as I recall.

      Somehow, it seems to be agreed that the leader of the hostile group will meet the others in a clearing near a jeep. Several minutes pass and I see the supposed leader coming out of the trees. He is apparently not carrying any weapon. His slightly oversized clothes (perhaps as if from starvation, as he looks fairly thin though not muscular as would be expected for a soldier) are torn and his body is somewhat muddy.

      A young girl appears out of nowhere and seems to be some sort of unlikely leader of some kind - it does not make that much sense considering the region supposedly being fraught with danger. The man holds out his hands and holds the girl’s hands in a gesture of recognition and respect as well as hope. It looks as if he can barely stand up straight. This is an unusual and unexpected outcome because the leader of the hostile group turns out to have been the one supposedly being held hostage and he is seemingly very thankful to be out of his position of leadership of the militant group. No drama ensues after this even though there may be enemy soldiers in the woods beyond wondering what is going on.
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