Blue_Opossum

Morning of July 6, 2015. Monday.

Dream #: 17,731-04. Reading time: 1 min 40 sec.



This dream was mostly abstract but had a vivid corporeal scene in the last offset segment. The narrative begins with anger regarding an unknown person cleaning an area where I had my belongings stored, though it is unclear if I was staying in the room. It is the Loomis Street house (irrelevant since 1994), but the perspective is distorted and seen mostly only from the ceiling. At one point, I am aware that three equidistant posts are jutting from the floor, oriented east to west.

I notice my (fictitious) belongings consist of numerous small items of metal and plastic. After they discarded some of my small possessions, they randomly placed the rest of them around the posts in nearly a perfect circle, each pile a few inches high. I see this from a vague incorporeal viewpoint, with several abstract transitions. I am unaware of any other room in the house at the time.

As my dream becomes less abstract, I am corporeal and getting ready to get out of a car (having been driven by my brother-in-law, though I do not see him) that has arrived on Loomis Street. As I am leaving the car, I notice the radio is on, though not very loud. I remember I have to turn the radio off when being the last one to leave the car (no waking-life correlation). I reach over to the far right near where I had been sitting and flick down a switch that is like a light switch. However, that does not turn the radio off but changes it from FM to a louder AM station but with more static. Without touching that switch again, I find a similar switch closer to the steering wheel (though still to my right). I flick this switch down as well, and the radio goes off, and I slowly wake.

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What I know as of July 2020: A parked vehicle is tied in with the imaginary physicality of the dream state, though defining the cessation of vestibular activity (and its ambiguity as in REM sleep). If the car is moving, imaginary kinaesthesia is a factor (vestibular cortex arousal). Ultimately the physical body is an illusion in the dream state, and this illusion will transition to the concept of traveling in a vehicle (such as a car). This situation initiates both somatosensory cortex and auditory cortex arousal. In this instance, I manage the auditory cortex while in my dream by way of a somatosensory-auditory-cerebral handshake. Such modulation seems intriguing, I think.

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Morning of July 6, 2015. Monday.



There are a lot of events in this dream, but mostly shifting and randomly meandering around different parts of a large fictional house that my family lives in. A couple unknown males are present and almost seem to have a level of authority (even though they seem like typical street-people or even homeless youths), which seems atypical of an imposer dream scene. I make a sarcastic comment to one of them at one point (after he asks a question about something we own, but of which is not that clear) though we do not end up fighting and I do not seem angry at any point. I enjoy being with Zsuzsanna for a time, but I am aware that some things in the house need to be sorted and arranged better, as there is so much.

There is one scene where I am moving some boxes of items that were supposedly left behind by a recent tenant (recurring situation). They may be craft items which can be sold later. I notice that the front of our house is more like a commercial building entrance, with a large window that looks out onto the street, seemingly in a more urban-like larger setting than we live in in reality. The building is like a large L-shape, with the two sections much like large halls. There is not much furniture, but there are a lot of random items sitting about, including some table lamps on the floor.

The most interesting part relates to trying to work out how to use an old Atari joystick (firstly looking the same as in the image included here) in order to play a particular computer game (something I have not really been involved much in in over twenty years). At one point, I seem to be playing the game, but that may not be the case. The small animal-like and cartoon-like characters (in a large image somehow projected onto the wall like a movie) do not seem to be responding correctly (first relative to the keystrokes, then to the joystick I attempt to use after this) - which reminds me of how similar problems (with older games) were relevant. Otherwise, the sense of touch, pressure, and movement is quite realistic. Fiddling a bit with the handle of the joystick, as it seems to be not working quite right or perhaps stuck or sticking at times, the handle comes out much like a telescoping radio antenna, becoming at least twice as long, yet also revealing a thinner section of the handle, and a metallic structure somewhat like the spindle of a faucet but smaller. I also notice what resembles a miniature umbrella-ribs-like mechanism. The more I push and pull on parts of the joystick, the more it expands into more complex mechanisms, though supposedly into its standard expected form. It ends up looking a bit futuristic and almost as if it could walk about on its own. I become so interested in the intriguing mechanical changes of various parts of the joystick, I lose interest in the computer game.

Morning of July 5, 2015. Sunday.

Dream #: 17,730-02. Reading time: 1 min 52 sec.



In real life, I had been working on a document about prescience in dreams regarding details from April 9 (1970-1990) that preceded my marriage on April 9 in 1994, sometimes integrated with a curious unrelated influence from television (which probably relates to prescient awareness of potential broadcasts and pop culture trends).

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In my dream, I am living on Loomis Street, and I am about twelve years of age. My sister is alive and rather young (mostly as she appeared in 1967, though I was six years old then). I do not recognize how wrong the setup and perspective is though I consider that something is different.

Being about twelve, but still active in dream research, I am puzzled by an “empty dream journal” supposedly started when I was about four years old. There was not always enough paper to write on, so I used my sister’s copies of Mad Magazine to write in, in any blank space, as well as older issues of Dig and Help! I get an impression that having records since birth relates to my “destiny,” and I decide to copy some dreams into the issue of Mad Magazine that is otherwise free of handwritten lines. I briefly recall the wedding date. I think about how impersonal the “dream journal” (Mad Magazine) is. I know that the April 1967 Mad Magazine cover (date, not time of printing) has a clue for me regarding Yin and Yang, Corona Borealis and Corona Australis, and similar concepts.

The cover features Alfred E. Neuman with a blue magnet, and under that is the reverse, a red one coming up from below, suggesting a pull (from an unseen “opposite” persona or character) from the “other side,” for me, a play on blue American mailboxes and red Australian mailboxes. I talk to my sister for a short time saying that I did not know this magazine existed as such. (I have no concept or memory of “Yin” other than the date relevance of September 13). I continue to write in it, one to two lines on at least six pages, now seemingly unrelated to dreams, but perhaps questions. I think about the cover and how only I could understand its connections to my life.

I transition to a dream type that mostly only occurred around age five; being in a world of giants. I sometimes dreamt of adults and children older than me as towering over me. In this case, a tall African woman (or spirit) in traditional tribal dress seemingly speaks to me in modern English or at least cheerfully communicates. Although we are indoors, she seems about twenty feet tall or more. I am of the correct size, but tiny in contrast to the setting. Next, after some ambiguous abstract scenes, is a situation where a friendly dog approaches me.

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Morning of July 3, 2015. Friday.



The prior evening into this morning was completely filled with a different style and route of dreaming I usually take - resulting in different dream types and levels than usual. I remained fully lucid in and out of sleep for several hours (more common when I was around sixteen), fully aware that I am the sole dream-maker and thus without challenge or threat unless I manifest it in-dream (as I did with dinosaurs and such when much younger), with no change in overall focus, yet since I mostly decided to be a “watcher” (and with no scripting or visual conditioning) events just unfolded randomly and without much structure or purpose.

One of the scenes just involved looking at some sort of A4 form, possibly an application of some sort such as that for a patent cover. A child had drawn an airplane over it so that it almost looks as if the airplane is in a faux “bird cage” (in viewing it all as one scene, which includes the otherwise blank horizontal lines of the application). I did not even consider this possible metaphorical play (something related to freedom, I think - or something regarding the nature of lucidity itself) until I made a near-facsimile of the scene in real life, which I find often helps me determine additional meanings or layers. However, this is probably just an association with how our youngest daughter (age two) sometimes draws a picture as such on a blank (but lined like notebook paper) page of my wife’s journal - though does not damage it otherwise.

For quite some time, I am lying in bed with a younger version of my wife and think that I should probably get dressed before I get up (should I get an idea to do anything other than love-making) as, even though I do not really care that we are in a building that is open on at least three sides and there is at least one (unknown) other older female in the area, I should still have some covering - especially as the weather has been cooler lately. The sense of legs touching legs as I rest is quite realistic - the sense of touch being typically augmented to where I am not sure if I even want to do anything else in my dream. On my right near the bed (and seemingly the only internally-rendered wall of the structure), I notice about five pairs of underpants on the floor that I had apparently left there before, which seems a little preposterous for some reason, even considering it is a dream. Mostly, I am questioning why I would just leave pairs there from previous “visits” to this version of my wife, and even so, how could they still be there during waking transitions? I would think that there would be some sort of “automatic cleanup” of dream settings before the next “visit” - even so, I do not recall this exact setting or overall layout from any prior dream - and I know they are mine. I am thinking about taking them “back” (to our real-life home) but then realize that idea is preposterous as well. This shakes me out of my dream to where I cannot find my real pants near the bed, either, but decide to leave it.

Later, when I am almost fully awake out of one scenario, I clearly smell chocolate-chip cookies baking. The scent is so strong and pleasing that I am somewhat puzzled that Zsuzsanna is lying in bed again. She will probably take them out of the oven later. I continue to enjoy the smell, and it is only several minutes later that I realize I am in some sort of hypnopompic carryover and that the smell is not even there. In fact, there is no scent of any kind that I notice after full wakefulness. Hypnopompic smells are fairly rare for me, but this was so pleasant, it colored my mood in a more cheerful sense.

Another scene takes me back to Stadcor Street in Brisbane. I decide to try to talk to an unseen character (to see if someone just randomly appears - something I did a lot in dreams in my late teenage years - even in fully dark settings or abstract spaces) and a young female takes notice, but appears almost out of view on my right (I have to lean out the fictionally-structured window just a bit to see her). The scene is a bit ambiguous as I was sure there was a character meant to be on my left, but this one appears so I talk to her and even tell her that I was trying to talk to someone on my left which makes me feel a bit silly. She is talking from behind a shorter wooden fence about chest-high (and is implied to be my fictional neighbor it seems) and I remain looking out from the window in the main bedroom at the back of the house. Not much ensues; she just seems to wonder what I am doing to my dream regarding the setting and any potential theme or plot and seems helpful.

This scene eventually shifts to where I decide to try to read something, so I turn on my “dream television” to see what happens. I soon see a sequence of binary numbers on the bottom of an otherwise blank (dark) screen and I start to think, oh, how clever, someone (a dream character or perhaps “real” entity) is trying to talk to me in binary. I am somewhat wary of who or what would do this, so I study what I see with full lucidity so that I can perhaps translate it later if possible. The numbers are scrolling across the bottom and just turn out to be “10 10 10 10 10…” as I watch. However, they transform briefly into “01 01 01 01 01…” before fading (or rather, as they are rolling off to the left). I then see my first name with the last letter (“e”) missing. Soon, I see one instance of the number two in the sequences of ones and zeroes and then realize it is pointless - as that means it cannot be binary code. I then consider if it is supposed to be the capital letters “I” and “O” rather than one and zero, as I see something like IPIO at one point, which stands for “i’ll pass it on”. I lose interest in trying to make sense of this gibberish so shift my mind to an outdoor environmental setting.

Soon, I am flying (in a standing vertical position) over a highway with hardly any traffic. I see one car, which I change into a bicycle and back several times as I fly along saying, “I’m dreaming, I’m dreaming, I’m dreaming” - which I had already known hours before, but just feel like saying it, thinking that it might also accelerate my awareness (though it does not - and my critical thinking skills are still mostly absent). I quickly get bored watching the bicycle transforming to car and back and as such, causing the person (unknown male) riding and driving to zigzag all over the road in confusion. I am probably being a bit mean, so let it go.

Finally, the last scene takes me into my house (though which actually seems more like Barolin Street) where I notice someone has parked his car inside the house (completely impossible in real life of course, though I only see part of the back of it). In fact, he is trying to back out of the room he has parked in (due to me telling him to leave and get his car out of my house), but cannot get it through the doorway, it seems (and I do not consider in-dream that he could not have possibly gotten in that way in the first place). He gives up and goes out onto the porch and sits down and I follow him out, continuing to yell at him to get out (regardless of how much rent he had been paying). He looks annoyed and frustrated.

Morning of July 1, 2015. Wednesday.



Notes: Ever since I was young, I found out (at least for me) that a fulfilling session of intimacy always brought me into the state of blissful sleep paralysis. In fact, sometimes this changeover was so immediate and primarily passive, I sometimes did not move into my long-acknowledged self-as-dream-maker role. I would almost always start to hear loud hypnagogic audio before the beginning of sleep paralysis (though not directly related to the state in my experience - though everyone seems different).

Imagine my immense surprise as I got older, when people wrote of hypnagogia as being a problematic “condition” (often regarding some sort of “disorder”) and almost always wrote of sleep paralysis as mostly a negative experience of “shadow people” or a dark presence (a load of nonsense in my case - I discovered that the shadow was my conscious mind becoming less-defined as I was then more into the dream state - the opposite of what most people seem to believe). No one could be more baffled than I am over the things I have seen in typical dream literature (especially idiotic “interpreter” sites), none of which has resonated with me throughout my life.

I mention this in somewhat of a prologue here, as I entered the first dreamscape this time at a passive level. (My first dream of the night is almost always vivid and lucid as I remain in a “carryover” self-as-dream-maker state. I do not usually document such dreams online, especially as they are often very similar and mostly without any plot or theme.) After fulfilling intimacy, I almost immediately heard an imaginary sound pulse as I remained on my back for a time (though I do not typically sleep all night on my back). It was three loud knocks (seemingly on a fictional “dream floor” I was lying on - or rather, a typical state of perceptual bilocation in this state), moving from my right to my left; that is, first knock on my right, second knock right “above” me, and third knock on my left. It does not surprise me at all that there is an actual superstition related to this. Of course, I do not buy it any more than the “shadow people” story. Save that for the people who believe in “dream dictionaries” and the syndicated Wishing Well newspaper feature.

In my dream, I and my family are living in a large unfamiliar house (though it also seems like a composite in afterthought - one which includes the Loomis Street house and my old Cubitis home). I am involved in sorting things out; mostly a large number of paperback books. For some reason, I have glued at least three paperback books to the otherwise featureless wall covering their back cover with glue and pressing them up. They remain just above my head, though the third one (farthest right) is slightly lower. They are all the same title but different editions. I clearly see the differences on each cover. Two of the covers show the heads and upper shoulders of two ship captains (one with a thick beard, one without) on each in a diagonal layout, but one cover of those two has an embossed tessellated flame design over mostly blue while the other cover is flat (though with otherwise mostly the same imagery), which distinguishes it from the other edition. The other book (first one from my left) looks of an older style of painted cover art (perhaps late 1960s) in mostly darker greens, blues, and grays, and displays a warship and a submarine underneath. I no longer recall the title, though. I know it had “captain and the” in it, possibly “The Submarine Captain and the Warship Captain”.

For several minutes, I think about what I am doing, wondering if the books will just eventually fall off the wall, the glue not being strong enough to hold over time. This does not happen though and I go into a dream within a dream - though only for a short time before returning to my main dream setting. In this one, I am at a book store seeking a particular edition of this title, asking if they have the “thirteenth edition” (my wife was born on a Friday the thirteenth - though I do not link this association in-dream), but then I realize that the book store owner may not have a clue which edition is which, especially in a secondhand store. I will likely have to do everything on my own, as usual. This is a rather strange reflection, as I have the mind of a passionate book collector in-dream, something I have never been in reality and could not care less about having several copies of the same title in different paperback editions. Even so, I am puzzled over my actions in both layers of my dream, though mainly the “why” of gluing the books on the wall in the first place. I cannot quite work out why I am doing this - especially in my vague concern about the longevity of the setup.

I am thinking that we should turn our house into a bookstore, though mostly using the porch for patrons. I think that I will mention this to Zsuzsanna and we can start running our bookstore as soon as possible.

I notice a young girl lying on the couch (opposite the wall where the books are glued). My youngest son is also there but slightly older than in reality. I sit down near them and “remember” that the girl is my daughter, though for some reason I cannot remember her name at all. I am thinking it may be something like Rebecca. I am vividly aware of small grains of sand on the couch, which has been opened out into a single bed that reminds me clearly of my couch/bed in Cubitis for a time (of the kind of couch where the back just drops down in contrast to the one we now have in reality that opens out into a larger bed from a compartment underneath). Even the texture and color looks like the one I had as a teen (for about two years or so).

Feeling quite strange over not remembering my own daughter’s name I begin to develop an idea on how to get it without being seen as uncaring. I ask her “What is it you like to be called?”. She calmly answers with “Belly”. Oddly enough, this fictional nickname is somewhat an unlikely form of my real daughter’s name (Isabelle) and strikes me as such (“returning” my memory) that my dream is fractured and I very slowly wake. However, I would hope that this is not the name she will use any more than “Izzy” (which I also do not personally care for that much, no offense to the Izzys of the world).

Morning of June 30, 2015. Tuesday.



This is one of those odd but generic dreams with mostly only louder audio over a seemingly long time period, though I do have my eyes open at some points in both my main dream and in my false awakenings. It has several false awakenings as well as real partial awakenings where I hear my wife’s breathing (which seems to somehow be creating the other voice at times), though it is only barely audible. Although I would classify it as a typical environmentally-influenced dream, the change in sound in-dream in contrast to the actual audio (as well as its volume) is rather bizarre. This has also sometimes happened when I fell asleep during a television broadcast (as well as with music) and, although the sound sometimes sounded the same in-dream, it sometimes changed in dramatic ways. (Similar to having one-second dreams every few minutes while in semi-sleep while watching television, sometimes which are mostly like the real image, sometimes which are completely different, often having a grid or thin lines or even briefly glowing “asterisks” in some parts).

In my dream, I continuously hear an old classmate (Bobby S) speaking to me (which is strange, as I have not heard his voice since 1976). I am not sure if it is by telephone or directly near me, but I do not see him, so I assume we are having a long telephone conversation. (Unlike similar dreams of this nature, the sound comes from the environment rather than the ear that is on my pillow.) He does say “good morning” at first. I do not recall most of what else was said or spoken about and he does most of the talking (sometimes even seeming to answer me when I do not perceive myself as speaking). Though we were not that friendly in reality (even having a brief fist fight in high school), he sounds very friendly in my dream. Every now and then, either a false awakening or a temporary partial awakening comes about randomly. I do not seem to be cognizant of sleep paralysis - which I assume (only in conscious afterthought) that I must be in to be so “grounded” in my actual bed next to Zsuzsanna as a continuous (and undistorted) setting. However, there are none of the pleasant feelings and augmented “conscious-self-as-dream-maker” awareness as with sleep paralysis.

Morning of June 30, 2015. Tuesday.



I am lucid but not in full control, apparently. I am appreciative of a swamp setting that is not threatening in any way at first, reminding me of my early childhood. A voice echoes “the bog oak necklace!” in a somewhat exaggeratedly dramatic way as if my arrival signifies the beginning of some sort of incongruous “This is Your Life” and “Candid Camera” composite. Not being impressed by an unfamiliar feminine voice (at least this particular seemingly disembodied one), I move onward; half-walking, half-hovering (feet partly dragging).

“The bog oak necklace!” the voice repeats. (There are strange “loud” silences between when the phrase is spoken.) After a time, I realize that the voice had not actually ever been there (even though it had - typical dream logic).

“The bog oak necklace!” says the voice again. It seems someone or something is following me. I am not frightened, just greatly annoyed at this “intrusion” into my own dream setting. I want to get rid of this female so that I can…interact with a female (uh…okay…that makes no sense, but very typical of faux dream “logic”).

“The bog oak necklace!” says the voice yet again, with some sort of strange essence by which it seems it will repeat forever and ever in a sort of implied cycle, at least in this environmental setting - until the end of time. This thought irritates me even more but there is nowhere to complain; no booth, no box to put a note in (which I “rationally” expect to find in the middle of an isolated cypress swamp).

I discover an old radio’s speaker just out of full reach, nested in the limb of a tree. Aha! Now we are getting somewhere. Once I am able to get this speaker out and disconnected, I can get on with my dream and take control.

The wires pull out, but the same phrase repeats from elsewhere. I notice that I am now carrying a microphone, which seems connected to the same wiring that the radio speaker was (though I vaguely recall that you can use a speaker as a microphone when input as such - which I had done in the past to get different effects in tonality and such in dub), but am not sure how far I can get before needing to let go of it.

“The bog oak necklace!” the voice repeats again.

“Stuff your bog oak necklace!” I shout, completely forgetting about lucidity and dream manipulation.

Morning of June 30, 2015. Tuesday.



I am vaguely aware of the newest “Godzilla” movie playing at an outdoor sports event (and seemingly going on for at least two or three days without showing any part of Godzilla), but this is not my main dream focus, which may be shifted to a different one.

I am hovering or at least viewing a scene possibly over the surface of the ocean. I am not sure of the size orientation, as I seemingly view a glimpse of a partially submerged Godzilla. After a very short time, I realize that it is not Godzilla’s back, but the back of a (normal-sized) hedgehog swimming through the murky water - with the size reference being much smaller. This error seems to have been caused by light from my right side briefly interfering with my vision. In afterthought, it dawns on me that Godzilla’s back does not at all undulate as it should above the water’s surface, which seems to be the case in the real movies as well. This causes me to briefly reflect that it may not be a hedgehog either, but someone dragging seaweed (or possibly a dead turtle covered with seaweed) through the water with a small motorboat for whatever reason.

Morning of June 28, 2015. Sunday.



(Please note that the image shows sled dogs at rest; not injured in any way.)

This was confirmed as an authentic First Nations ancestral dream (one of the oldest kinds possible, in fact), which came as a bit of surprise to me (considering I have lived in Australia since February of 1994), though does explain why it felt so utterly different than the majority of my dreams.

This was one of those more vivid dreams that seemingly “comes out of nowhere”; that is, in a rare case of not being quickly (personally) resolved and “interpreted” at least to some extent (depending on the dream type and level of consciousness of course, as a number of dream types are literal, persona practice runs, real-self-created-and-directed, environmentally scripted or at least influenced, or solely metaphorical to the dreaming and waking process itself). It did not quite feel like the day to day visual precognition or impersonal remote viewing I always experience.

In my dream, it seems to be late at night or possibly very early morning before dawn. I become aware that I am walking to our front door with my wife Zsuzsanna (at our atypically near-perfect rendering of our present address). (I am not sure of any implied back story, immediate or otherwise.) She opens the door to look out onto the front porch and beyond and says “something is dead out there” (very clear and well-rendered audio with no distortion of my wife’s essence). This does something to my perception, causing my dream to become even more vivid and augmented (in terms of all the five sense). This particular in-dream level of such precise perceptual focus was far more common around age nine. As such, I can almost sense my dream “building itself” as if my dream-self is one step ahead of the potential outcome and casually waiting for the next imagery to unveil (though this does not trigger lucidity for some odd reason and my dream-maker-self is not directly perceived as in other dreams, even in afterthought).

Out in the middle of the street, facing west, are now at least three sled dogs lying on their sides, motionless (and presumed dead), the leader mostly aligned with the line of sight of the stop sign prior to the intersection. I can also see the empty dog sled tipped on its side. I am trying to logically process the scene. I can firstly just make out the shapes as they come into focus, appearing slightly larger and brighter at first (as if slightly out of phase with my dream perspective for a very short time). Soon, the scene is clearly and vividly resolved; rendered very realistically. There is no sign of any other animals or people around.

I try to mentally process what the scene indicates or may indicate regarding the nature of the street and general traffic (though there is no traffic perceived anywhere). Obviously, there are no dog sleds going past our house and down the street in reality. This realization, however, does not even dawn on me in-dream. I am convinced that there has been a “real” event for whatever reason and think about what may have happened to the sledmaster. Did he go to get help? Is he lying somewhere else unconscious or deceased? I am very puzzled over why there is no activity such as police cars or other people at the scene, if just to remove the dogs and wrecked sled. I start to wonder, with additional puzzlement, just how long this setup had remained as such. I consider if the dog sled had been driven over by a semitrailer truck (which does not make much sense though does in my dream).

My dream seems to shift into peaceful “oblivion” without waking, something that is fairly rare in my adult years. It seemed to take place in a “deeper” part of my being than any other dream I have head in my lifetime (though I more recently found out why, relating to the ancestral memory).

Important update: Although I am not a fan at all of so-called psychotherapy (and never have been), I also found this link for anyone interested: http://www.briancollinson.ca/index.p...sled-dogs.html

Morning of June 27, 2015. Saturday.



In this atypical dream setup, I play two roles; I am a different character - an unknown unfamiliar male of about forty - as well as my dream-self from a different perspective much more like my real-self - though not disembodied (as is typical when I am more than one character or character’s perspective) and most often watching the action as if my dream’s scenario was part of an older and “recognized” movie. Until the ending scene, it mostly seems completely impersonal.

My “arch-enemy” from school days, David K, is the leader of a group involved in organized crime. The gang is following my other character around a neighborhood in a small town. The “other me” is aware of this at times but there is no confrontation until the last scene. The “other me” has been doing gardening for the most part and does not seem to be involved in anything relating to any group of criminals or mafia associations.

Finally, David is standing forward and center within a group of about nine men. The “other me” (who is shorter and stockier than I) looks at them while he is standing behind a small square “window” (just large enough to display his entire face but not much more than that) in a large tall hedge that borders a longer area of someone’s front yard. It seems that David has given the order to shoot this man (though this does not seem to bother me even though he is supposedly still the “other me” at this point). It seems a bit unusual that the man was just standing there looking at the others through the hedge’s “window” in this manner - though in some ways, seemingly caught by surprise as such (as if perhaps he had been thinking they would not notice him).

Just as David’s men are preparing to shoot, most of them with rifles and soon lifting them, the man behind the hedge shoots all but two (David and one of his men behind him) with two unseen powerful guns he is apparently holding, one in each hand, which are hidden behind the hedge (which of course is highly unlikely, as he did not even have time to take aim). This comes as a sort of odd surprise even to me yet somehow also seems familiar as if from an actual movie. David is very startled and appears very worried (but is unharmed). Suddenly, the other male shoots the male who had still been standing behind David, who had been holding a pistol aimed at David’s head all that time (though I did not notice until this point).

The other male comes out from behind the hedge and hugs David and David starts crying. At this point, David seems at least two feet shorter than the other male. The other male explains that he had been reading the hand signals of David’s man - and apparently David did not understand the system of hand signals his own men used, which were building up in planning to get rid of David. Around this time, my main dream-self becomes the other male and now sees from his perspective as my dream comes to a close. I am then, however, more like my actual real-self and David more reflective of his high school persona to some extent.

Morning of June 26, 2015. Friday.



I seem to be in the fictional tall pipe house yet again (in an unknown region - but some versions are similar to my older sister’s house on Loomis Street in America and with the fictional utility room and storage area at the southwest corner), but this time it involves an unusual bathtub that has a large grilled rectangular prism adjacent to one end that is implied to be directly above the large utility room (with the high ceiling) that is on the first floor though with a dirt floor in most versions of this setting and now apparently has at least one tall pipe leading down from the bathtub drain to the room below (though it is usually the toilet that has the long narrow vertical pipe that becomes misaligned). The focus is very vivid and “realistic” materialistically but somewhat nonsensical in terms of aesthetics and potential design. The large grill is a box-like structure (a grill-like plane on all sides) on the faucet end of the bathtub. The faucet comes out through about the central area of the side of the grill that faces the bathtub, it seems.

I find it remarkable in afterthought how such a three-dimensional fictional structure can be created so convincingly as such in a dream. In my dream, I decide to clean the grill, at least the bathtub-facing side, which is quite rusty as well as dusty (and I briefly contemplate why I had not tried to clean it previously) - in fact, the dirt and rust is nearly solid within all the grill spaces, though the faucet seems to be working fine (though the box-like structure seems like just a fancy cover for the pipes going in and out at the end of the bathtub - the bathtub being more near the central area of the bathroom in an unlikely layout). Over time, I use a whisk broom and, even though all of the spaces are cleared almost effortlessly, some of the vertical bars, being quite thin and mostly now composed of rust, break off easily at a light touch, though not that much damage occurs and all the spaces are otherwise cleared completely of rust and dirt so that it even appears somewhat shiny again. I notice how I can now see inside the structure (as well as through the spaces of the adjoining perpendicular grilled plane) and the running water is much louder as well - including a clearer metallic gurgling sound within the structure. It is loud but pleasant.

Looking down through the top (horizontal) grill of the structure, I see that the water going through the bathtub drain ends up on the dirt floor in the utility and storage area below, though it is presently a small puddle. I am not concerned about this odd plumbing setup and it does not even strike me as unusual or requiring fixing (or adjusting the tall pipe alignment).

This dream seems primarily an intriguing (though greatly exaggerated in size) distortion of my cleaning of the front room computer’s CPU fan the other day by removing the fan’s cover (where the vents were almost solid with dust clumps - causing the computer to not stay on). I did find the “realism” of my dream (in terms of solidness, movement, and effect change as well as the motions of my hands in my work) quite interesting.

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Morning of June 25, 2015. Thursday.



I am once again at the King Street boarding house in La Crosse, Wisconsin where I have not lived since the late 1980s, though this is also an atypical in-dream location in the backyard near the southwest corner. I find a yellow plastic bucket (probably about a three-gallon size) full of paper scraps, about three-quarters full. All of the paper scraps have either one of two shapes. Either they are square and have some writing on them in typed print or they are shaped like corner-to-corner adjacent longer rectangles and without writing (similar to one of the Tetris shapes, and indeed, this dream may actually be based on my interest in the so-called Tetris effect, though not relevant to the Tetris game itself as I do not play it). I find the rectangular pieces (about four inches in length) quite intriguing in shape for some reason and first consider that they might be worth more than the other scraps even though the square pieces have a written claim that they can be reimbursed for a certain amount of cash, possibly around five or more dollars though I am not certain of the amount.

Still, I begin to sort them out, and eventually realize that the curious connected rectangle shapes (many of which are slightly curled) may not be worth anything after all as they do not have writing on them. This makes me a bit annoyed as there seem to be slightly more linked rectangular scraps than the square ones, which I realize are probably some sort of mail-order coupon and perhaps worth three dollars each at this point. Thus I become more interested in holding onto the “coupons” to mail them in for cash. I am not even sure who the bucket belongs to, or of any in-dream back story to the scene.

Eventually, my pinhead friend from years ago (who also lived at King Street), Leonard S, comes out and informs me that none of the paper scraps are worth anything and that the square “coupons” are related to some sort of mail-order scam. Somehow, in the back of my mind, I already knew this and ponder why I even bothered sorting them in the first place.

This dream seems to be an odd composite of two fairly clear associations from over twenty years apart. The paper scraps remind me of a science activity I taught recently (grades six to eight and of a McGraw-Hill manual) whereby you “classify” different shapes of small paper cutouts into different groups to learn about how scientific classification works - even though the activity did not include the rather peculiar joined rectangles shape (which I still find a bit intriguing to appear as such so consistently in a dream, especially a fair number of the exact same size). The other aspect reminds me of years ago when Leonard kept sending money to the same company each time he supposedly won a “prize” which always turned out to be a tiny black stone glued to a piece of cardboard, which he apparently enjoyed getting (although his mood was quite erratic at times - he looked like a more developed version of the more well-known Schlitzie, and was also more intelligent and mentally competent in most ways though his mother did not want him and he grew up in St. Michael’s Orphanage in La Crosse).

Morning of June 24, 2015. Wednesday.



This was a typical imposer dream. My family and I are living in a house that is about four times bigger as our real one though does not seem that recognizable as a composite of past homes.

An annoying female neighbor with a mental disorder (from real life from a few years ago) is walking around in both our back and front yards and seemingly doing so because the owner is also here (even though she has nothing to do with what he is doing, I think). At one point, she is carrying a basket of laundry around. My dream becomes most vivid at this near-beginning point where I see her trying to open our back door (my view seemingly being through a few larger windows rather than seeing through the walls as in some dreams) and then walking away.

I learn that the landlord is on a ladder, first having noticed the unrealistically high wooden ladder propped against our house and then seeing his feet on one of the top rungs. However, the scene is unlikely in that the ladder is almost straight up and the man’s position is very unsafe and not directly near the roof’s surface when I look - technically, a person could not work this way or even stand on a ladder this way in reality. I am almost certain he will probably fall within an hour or so (though this does not happen).

Soon, a light-haired unfamiliar young female with very short hair tries to push her way through the front doorway as I am talking about the landlord’s unexplained imposition but I stop her. I also notice an unknown boy walking around in our front yard and become more annoyed. I go into a mock character mood (pretending to be the landlord) and start saying “Duh!” several times and “look at me, I am working on a house and do not know what legal means…l-e-g-a-l (spelling it out)…duh…what does that mean?” and mention that showing up to work on a tenant’s house without informing them is a violation of the RTA (which it is in reality). I am not really certain what the issue with the roof is, though at one point I have a view (seemingly outside from a distance from the front yard of the house) of the outer surface having been removed even though there is still a layer of undamaged shingles underneath, it seems. I have no idea what the situation is regarding the purpose of the roof work or worse, even the present state of our tenancy.

Eventually, as I am talking, the female transforms into an older lady of about eighty (who looks somewhat like an older version of Frances Fisher from “Resurrection” but with lighter hair) and I then falsely remember her as the landlord’s wife (even though he only seems about forty at the most). Her features are mostly similar to the previous character’s; she is just now with many wrinkles and a slightly more squarish face. My dream-self does not even acknowledge the character transformation (and assumes she is still the same character originally perceived), though I comment that I thought she was only about eighteen years old at first and, though still very annoyed, pretend it is okay for them to be there without prior notification. She explains something about her Glock (relating to the roof somehow) needing to be replaced or something like that (which makes no sense as Glock is the name of a weapons manufacturer and type of pistol). I still am not sure what is going on.

Being a typical imposer dream, it reflects present issues in having to deal with thoughtless workers regarding the NBN fiasco and telephone company over the last few weeks and the noise and overall mindless behavior just outside our window.

Morning of June 22, 2015. Monday.





I am sitting on the floor in our present home on W Street while my wife is sleeping (though I think she is awake in reality). The living room is more open and seemingly larger. I have a compartmentalized plastic box with either ten or twelve wells which are probably of about one and a half to two inches square. For some reason, I have two types of pills (yellow and blue) arranged in no particular order in the box - that are about the size of the larger oblong vitamin tablets I have seen. I get the impression that one pill type is related to lucidity or doing something to the waking self to enter the dream state more effortlessly. I am not yet lucid at this point. The other pill type is possibly for a similar purpose, though I get the strong impression that it may not be a good idea to take either type. (I have never taken any kind of pill or “aid” to supposedly enhance dreams or aid in sleep - including the time I was woken up in the hospital in the 70s and was asked if I wanted sleeping pills…and yes, that really happened). I am not even sure if the pills belong to me - my older brother Dennis may have left them here (even though he lives in America and has never been to Australia). I place one yellow tablet in my mouth for a short time and bite on it a bit and then decide that I do not feel like taking one after all, though my tongue and the roof of my mouth are slightly powdery, the pill only partly crumbled but not fully broken into smaller pieces.

I get up to go to “sleep” (still in my dream) and I realize that I need to drink some water. When I take a sip from the glass, the water somehow causes the residual powder in my mouth to sizzle and send me into an extraordinary state of perception and in-dream clarity. As I decide to get up again, the palm of my hand flashes very brightly as if with an inner glow just under the skin and I reason that the pill was responsible for this chemical change in my body. This concerns me somewhat regarding my physical well-being, making me even more wary about having any pills around.



As I am then near the foot of the bed, I realize I am in a very vivid lucid dream, yet at the same time, am atypically puzzled about my real-self’s perspective. What happens to my real-self when my dream-self becomes fully conscious? I need to find out, so I zap back and wake up, which of course, was a bit pointless.

When I go into another dream later, it is lucid, but meandering - and I do not attempt to alter anything. I am just walking around in a shopping mall where there are lots of other (unknown) people of various clearer features (a typical scenario for this level of lucidity). Two females, one of whom looks like a thirtyish Jamie Lee Curtis, confidently save some people from being shot by another female with a machine gun. However, prior to that, the would-be shooter seems to keep changing her mind on whether or not to shoot a certain person in extremely brief cycles of mood and anticipation. The main rescued female says something about not saying anything about her rescue to the authorities - with the assumption that one of the rescuers is a vigilante also wanted by the authorities, but the one who looks like Jamie cheerfully asks her why not as they are walking off, implying that she should report her experience - even in describing her rescuers to the police.

Another senseless scene follows where I am with a group of about five or six unknown males and am “playfully” pointing an unloaded AK-47 at random people coming into the mall. No one notices or cares. The conversation in the group seems very important though I am not directly involved. I hear one male talking about being put on hold for ten minutes while ordering pizza in Indonesia. One male seems to become bored and starts doing an odd routine to see if anyone notices. He keeps lifting his legs behind him and over time, is actually almost diagonal (facing downwards and holding himself up with his hands) with his feet propped up on what looks somewhat like an old-fashioned post office desk. No one notices his antics. Eventually, he is in a squatting position on the top of the desk and still no one regards his location - which seems to amuse him. To his right (my left) is another male on the desktop that was not part of the group, who is also grinning.

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Morning of June 21, 2015. Sunday.



This dream was fairly abstract and no main events occur. It involved some sort of longer computer-like machine (looking more like an electronics deck of some sort from the 1960s) that displays various images, which seem to be random parts of various magazines and comic books for no particular reason other than perhaps as a so-called screensaver or perhaps even related to advertising (the books apparently being scanned somehow in their entirety on the right of the monitor).

The main focus seems to be on a fictional comic book about an elf superhero called Aye, vaguely similar to Elf Quest (which I have not really read much of) in some ways but more like Thor in terms of theme and art. The name of the comic book also seems to be “Aye” (possibly just an in-dream play on “eye” or “I”). The images on the small screen (in comparison to the machine itself) show fairly quickly (and also include random images from old issues of Life Magazine, Look Magazine, and Superman comics), almost like riffling a deck of playing cards. It is a typical “just looking at something” dream with no dominant emotion and there does not seem to be any plot or theme, just the idea of the mechanism and the imagery.