Blue_Opossum

Morning of May 9, 2015. Saturday.



This dream was brought on by anger and frustration as well as a stress headache. For the second day in a row, on the weekend, totally thoughtless workers involved in the National Broadband Network annoyed and stressed out my family by parking next to our house at about six in the morning and playing their radio (of continuous amplified arrhythmic babbling of the announcers with unnatural undertones) and gossiping loudly near our windows for about nine hours. They seemed to only be involved in actual work about ten percent of the time. I have always considered that the surreal level of disrespect, mindlessness, and oppression by the government, authority (including any agency or business authority), and infrastructure, is too bizarre and purposeless to be real, and is actually something I have aligned with other elements of the unexplained and which I consider part of the mysteries I have contemplated since early childhood. Having this view has never gotten me into any trouble because I have never acted upon it, as there is no reason to. It is the problem of humanity itself. I consider myself far luckier than many people, though being with augmented senses and awareness makes it difficult to be near many types of people for the most part, primarily because there is little I can relate to concerning much of the general populace.

My dream gives me the “gift” of destroying much of humanity, though only those who feel they can do anything they want to someone without repercussions or answering for their impositions. It starts out when I begin to grow fangs in the manner of a typical vampire, though there is no in-dream association with vampires. I am aware of the need to protect my family as well. I transform into a large dragon at times and let all of my anger out onto the world. I breathe fire in my human form at times, with enough power to wipe out an entire city block, mostly only in business and industrial areas. I am aware of an intensely loud and low-pitched growling (with various overtones, some even musical) coming from my presence at certain points. It is very clear audio. Normally, any speaking or sounds I make are fairly loud and clear in dreams, but this is extraordinarily forceful, almost like a sound as present and far-reaching as the totality of the world’s sounds itself, and with seemingly at least three different layers of audio events continuing as my dream fades.

It is curious that I dreamt of being a dragon, as I usually associate dragons with chaos, darkness, and disease (lung cancer associated with breathing fire as well as an event of my rare sleep apnea causing my first dream of a dragon) as well as extinction (connection with dinosaurs and the dinosaur age) and purposelessness (in being a mythological form). Of course, the dragon is also associated with evil in the Christian sense, but I have never held much interest in that idea - though in my dream it seems the opposite; it seemed to be a positive life-affirming “judgement” (from God or perhaps humanity itself) rather than the supposed “Devil”. Without the oppressors and the people who feel their thoughtless (and usually pointless, such as loud radios) impositions mean nothing, life is more enjoyable and harmonious. However, people who feel their oppressive acts should be self-controlled (or regulated if they are too stupid to understand) oddly feel as if their “rights” are being violated somehow. Astounding, really, but human nature, apparently.

One of the reasons why I cannot understand how a person, especially someone who is supposed to be working in an infrastructure-related job, could have the courage to play a loud car radio near someone’s house early in the morning, or anytime for that matter let alone for hours after, is that I cannot remotely imagine doing something this insane and risky from my own perspective. Why? Because I know how I feel when this happens, including the real risk it generates (as people have been attacked or killed over similar acts - though this can be acted out in a dream with no repercussions of course). I could not even began to imagine doing the imposing and thoughtless things to people that I have experienced continuously throughout my life by certain other types of people.

Morning of May 8, 2015. Friday.



My dream’s setting, which is meant to represent our home, is rendered with quite a bit of detail, though it does not seem that familiar (even in comparison to various past false renderings of our home as dreams typically do). There is concern about some sort of cable box for television (and possibly with computer connections as well) that is illogically hanging near the window at a slight angle, a bit more than halfway up the wall, in what seems to be the living room. Over time, I put my hand on it and clearly feel intense heat. I can even vividly feel the heat on the palm of my hand from about a foot away. This becomes a concern of course, as it may eventually cause a fire. A small fire soon starts near the box, but we put it out right away with a spray bottle (probably filled with water).

Time passes, the television remains on, and I eventually see reddish orange flashes outside the windows though it is not that late and I think the sun is still out. I go outside and see that the entire front of the house is on fire, but in several different smaller sections near the roof, each area on fire being just above each window, of which there are at least five areas. I get the garden hose and manage to put them all out, but I also note numerous small clean splinters of wood falling to the ground, which I even remark upon in my dream, though this oddly does not seem that problematic, especially as they are so small, almost like the house is “shedding” slightly curved toothpicks.

I realize that the house we live in (in-dream) is not suitable to have cable television - since we seem to be able to have the television on only for a few minutes before the box overheats enough to cause a fire. Strange dream “logic”.

Morning of May 8, 2015. Friday.



This dream is a very good example of how even the best, most focused scripting can go awry once entering a dream state (though it depends on the form of meditation, “automatic” affirmation acceptance, and concurrent imagery). Although over the years, I have often noticed more and more “automatic” personal control over many dreams (even non-lucid ones) and the growing knowledge (with increasing levels of precision) of how my mind and attitude creates dreams, there is often another facet of my real-time (present) experience that becomes triggered somehow, though which is still solely of my waking character. In this case, it was probably being annoyed in real life by thoughtless impositions on our family by NBN workers. Aligning the transitions between different levels of consciousness to more fluidly move through them (from the onset of fully conscious hypnagogia I have had since early childhood) while remaining my true self is not that difficult at times (even at some levels of otherwise disruptive environmental noise), but the most curious thing still is how memory completely fails on such a grand scale even after only a few seconds in some cases. Sleep paralysis is still usually a very pleasant experience (unlike what I have read from other sources) and is automatically triggered by exertion or so-called overexercise, and oddly, overexercise, even at my present age, brings feelings of being healthier and more relaxed even if I had earlier felt ill.

In my dream, I am walking in an unknown area, which seems like some sort of composite between a part of this town (in the commercial district), the south side of La Crosse, and where I went to school in Florida. I am walking down the street, seemingly with the intent to study a large notebook I am carrying (probably a type of dream journal) while relaxing in a nearby park.

I seem to be walking on Bourbong Street on the left side, heading east, growing closer to the edge of the urban area. As I walk, I notice a young Asian male on my left, who is seated on the sidewalk and leaning against the outer wall (near a corner) of a business building, fairly close to an intersection. He seems quite happy. On his right is an unknown female (though her appearance is not that clear).

I soon find myself in a park that reminds me of the playground where I went to school in Florida. The park is very crowded though there are areas to sit down. I sit down and lean against a tree and open my notebook. Curiously, on the left side when I open it, there is a clear display page containing a large photograph (about two-thirds the size of the A4 page) that shows the imagery I had just seen of the male leaning against the building. I do not consider this as impossible or untimely at all. I look through my book and notice various pages that are “pieces” of my personal history and ideas.

After a time, I notice the presence of an unknown female on my right, possibly a college student who came to the park to study, and who seems to be fairly “dominant” and self-aware. I eventually notice that I am somehow sitting farther from the tree (with no memory of having moved) and feeling a bit imposed upon. I turn back to the girl and bring attention to the fact that she had supposedly been pushing me away from where I was seated near the tree (and I supposedly only moved little by little out of politeness and to avoid any potential confrontation). I seem a bit angry, but not aggressive in any way. She does not react other than giving me a curious look as if perhaps I have lost my mind and simply moved away from her on my own for no particular reason (in fact, she is facing perpendicular to where I am and had probably not really pushed me physically at any point). She remains where she is, appearing stoic and not offended in any way. I notice she has a notebook much like mine and seems to be studying the pages carefully.

In fact, I had deliberately scripted such a scene (up until the time when I become annoyed) where I would be given healing energies as well as answered questions and possible information about the future by a representation of the universe when “she” appeared. This is certainly not the first time that I threw a monkey wrench into my own unfolding script (though this does not happen in fully lucid dreams) and it likely will not be the last.

Morning of May 7, 2015. Thursday.



My dream has a section near the beginning involving some sort of philosophical discussion by a relative, one who always had a very pessimistic view of (his) life, yet often acted like a clown. However, the things he is saying in-dream are not really relevant or “real”, almost as if we are in an alternate timeline at a much younger age - as it seems it could be as long ago as 1978. During this time, I am using telekinesis to move a few smaller things around on a table. We are in the Loomis Street house yet again, but one area later on seems to be in Brisbane rather than La Crosse, yet still connects directly to the area. My (deceased) sister is also nearby at times, in the house.

Later, I am walking (seemingly northward) in an unknown area of what is likely Brisbane (though again, still somehow connected to La Crosse in America). On my left is an unknown younger male. As we are walking, I contemplate using telekinesis to actually lift buildings, although I reason that it would probably not be a good idea as it would require breaking the foundation. I do move a few smaller things. There is a large truck parked near an intersection and I am able to make it rise in the air by about ten feet. It stays in midair for a few minutes. I note that in dreams, there is a particular feeling when telekinesis is active and working, which is a bit hard to describe. It is somewhat like a subtle wave of relaxation and focus. Curiously, telekinesis seems far more common in non-lucid dreams, though I have had it in fully lucid ones (usually only involving the manipulation of doors and cups which jump into my hand). After a short time, the truck falls back to its original position, but the right front tire and axle area is damaged. The owner, who has just arrived by this point, looks at it curiously. I feel a bit regretful about damaging his truck, but he has no idea how it happened.

Later, I am back at the Loomis Street house and only my sister is around at first, appearing again as she did around 1978. There is some sort of movie-like infusion into my dream at this point, but it is somewhat distorted. I hear some sort of “soundtrack” for a short time. I move a few smaller things again but sometimes my ability seems varible at times, possibly caused by a disruption of in-dream focus by real environmental sounds (which sometimes “script” entire scenes in dreams in some cases).

My brother-in-law comes in and I keep easily moving a ketchup bottle and a salt shaker around on the large table with telekinesis, always out of his reach. He seems a bit frustrated but also does not seem to fully catch on that I am responsible for the unexplainable movement.

Lastly, my in-dream presence and character seems to change to that of a girl whose (unfamiliar) mother is mad at her for practicing witchcraft. Oddly however, the mother seems to be using some sort of dark magic (or perhaps ritualistic negative “prayer”) to project at me to officially disown me as well as harm me somehow. This seems quite hypocritical. We project some sort of shapeless energy at each other, but there is a force field or invisible protective barrier between us. Our “battle” seems somewhat futile. The environment is quite distorted and undefined by that point though I sense we are each near a corner in a mostly empty room, about fifteen feet between us.

Morning of May 6, 2015. Wednesday.

Dream #: 17,670-01. 56 second read.

Zsuzsanna and I are walking in a metropolitan area in daylight, probably a mix of La Crosse (America) and Brisbane (Australia). We are looking for a bookstore or a video rental store.

A tiger walks on the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street in the same direction as us. However, the animal is never closer than about half a block away from us. I do not feel threatened by the tiger’s presence, only vaguely wary.I eventually talk to an unfamiliar young woman standing behind a small unsheltered table adjacent to the curb. It seems to be both an information stand and a sales counter. She is selling small jewelry items and possibly train tickets but is mostly giving directions to pedestrians.
She sees the tiger across the street, about one block down at this time. She seems wary but remains at her table. I soon see a second large tiger approaching her from behind, without her knowledge, from about ten feet away. I wonder whether I should tell her and how she might react, but my dream fades from here.

---

Animals primarily correspond with my anticipation of achieving physicality upon waking, with wild animals more of a waking alert regarding my need to move.

---

Interestingly, both Zsuzsanna and someone who lives in Brisbane whom I have never met in waking life also dreamt of tigers on this date. (Tigers are common in my dreams.)

---

1 minute 36 second read.
Tuesday morning, 5 May 2015.
An Ocean Walk near my Middle School (leg mobility)
Dream # 17,669-01.




It is early afternoon. I am with Zsuzsanna near the ocean. However, with common surreal irregularity, the “ocean” replaces the southeast grounds of my middle school in Arcadia, Florida. I appreciate the beauty of the water’s scintillating surface.

Zsuzsanna walks over an area of the ocean’s surface, and I notice a small school of fish underneath. I get the impression that the water is deep. I walk on the ocean’s surface with her, but we do not go more than ten feet from the “shore.” (The “shore” integrates with the sidewalk that encompasses the large building.)

I see a small shark underneath the water, so I am concerned about Zsuzsanna’s safety. The shark passes underneath her a few times, so I tell her to come over to where I am. She walks atop the water’s surface and is eventually on my left (modeling our sleeping orientation).

She moves away when the shark jumps from the water, illogically floating vertically upright near me, but I do not feel threatened as it taps me on my left shoulder and ear a few times and on the left side of my left leg as it “dances” before returning to the water. (It does not go near Zsuzsanna.) During this time, it had transformed into a grouper about three feet long.

Later, I am on the ground. It has sparse grass and sandy soil. I use telekinesis to attempt to change it. The ground’s surface and the grass move with a rippling effect. I do this for a few minutes until most of the blades of grass move to one area.

Although my lucidness is high, I do not consider how my mental influence has this power solely in the dream state.

I make the ocean’s surface move under my will, but there is ambiguity where water and soil seem to have the same properties. However, it is like a mirage (like looking at something through heated air). I have a false recall of how this type of control of the environment works sometimes, but not always.

---

Being tapped by the floating, dancing fish is an incentive to become more aware of my body through increased somatosensory phasing (and leaving REM atonia). That scenario is followed by mentally arranging and separating illusory patterns.

---

Morning of May 5, 2015. Tuesday.



There is some sort of small rectangular container (not that deep and perhaps large enough to store four to six stacks of playing cards) on a desk in our (last) house on Barolin Street which seems to be for commercial endeavors yet not directly connected with us in any way - which of course seems a bit odd in afterthought - as if a part of our house just incidentally happens to be open to the general public for no particular reason (sparsely recurring concept but more common over ten years ago). Supposedly, it is some sort of lottery where a person buys a card - which I think could cost as much as twenty dollars (or perhaps less) and apparently circles one word in each of three columns, such as “bill” or “beak” in one column, which I see fairly clearly - though it also seemingly has features like a scratch-off ticket. It seems the words you circle have something to do with exponentially increasing your winnings if only the right one is circled in each column. We do not make any kind of a profit for hosting this lottery as far as I know (and I am not sure who the setup actually belongs to), and no other person comes into our house to buy one of the cards at any point, so all in all, the scenario makes little sense. We actually “buy” a couple cards (I am not sure how the money transfers) and I look at them more closely but we do not win anything (yet) as far as I know. The front of the cards have different closeup bird scenes and the back has the scratch-off and circling area. The upper half of the back is yellow. The word-circling area is near the middle.

Later on, I start to think that we could just take some of the cards and see if they are winners (as there is no one else around to see what we are doing in our own home). At one point, I find a smaller series of cards under one stack that is slightly different and I start to think about why that is. These other cards are mostly the same in design but are a little thicker, have a glossier surface, and are orange on the upper half of the back instead of yellow. For a short time, I wonder if they are counterfeits (possibly made in China). However, it may also be that they are just a different run or later printing. Still, I only keep several of the other type to check for winning ones. (Here, I will mention that there is no in-dream back story or memory of how the lottery came to be set up in our home in this way, and the puzzle about the other type and where they came from is not solved.)

It eventually seems that about five or six of the cards we take (out of about a dozen or more) are winners, though a few are of only a smaller value. However, I then start to worry that they will know whether or not a person actually bought them by way of an automatic checking of some sort of identification code that is only recorded and stored when a card is legitimately purchased from the right source. I am not certain of this, but I start to think that I may not do this, thinking of putting them back. (This idea of just taking something that is already in our house though linked to a commercial business that is not related to us is something I vaguely recall dreaming of in the past, but not with the specifics at this time.)

Morning of May 4, 2015. Monday.



I am standing on a street corner in an unknown area, possibly in early afternoon, the intersection on my left. I am with my wife but there are at least four other mostly unfamiliar people in the immediate area including a male about twenty years older than me to my left. There is at least one other male who I think may be a coworker named Randy from over twenty years ago. There are also at least two older women in front of us. I think we may be waiting for a bus or possibly a series of taxis.

Eventually, I find myself holding a larger metal toy black car (possibly some sort of 1960s limousine), seemingly only a bit bigger than a Hot Wheels car. Over time, I see that the hood and trunk (bonnet and boot) both open. Under the hood, I am able to make out the details of the small faux engine, but there is not that much to it. Still, it is interesting to see all the moving parts. The doors also open. I eventually see that the front part opens downward somewhat like a lid to expose the front seat area. The dashboard and steering wheel section moves apart and down from the rest of the area, somewhat hinge-like (similar to when I took a few Matchbox Cars apart in real life). I accidentally move something near the seats a certain way and the steering wheel falls to the sidewalk. The older male picks it up for me and by this time I notice that there are two driver’s seats, including an additional steering wheel, the other in back. I do not really focus on how unusual this is.

I start thinking about real cars and tell the others that I own the car from the movie “Christine” (a red 1958 Plymouth Fury, which I have driven in a number of dreams over the years). I get the impression that I could bring this car to me with a remote control (though I am not sure that I have it in my pocket) but then “remember” that there are many other cars I could bring to the area - including the “real” version of the toy car I have (though apparently with only one steering wheel). Not much happens after this, but I do contemplate helping a couple others get to their destination (though I do not use any sort of remote and no real cars are ever visible). No bus or taxi ever shows up.

Night of May 3, 2015. Sunday.



I move directly into a very vivid lucid dream while still half-awake as I often do after watching or mentally exploring the hypnagogic visionary realms - and eventually am within my dream body with little effort. The first thing I focus on (for a longer period of time) is the silhouette of an old wagon wheel (probably stuck only about one-third or less into the ground), which had been near the “portal” as some sort of “signpost” of sorts (probably a good lucid dream trigger depending on where you live). Other than that, there is mostly only rain visible. I do eventually see human forms (mostly female, some carrying parcels) moving about now and then, but they are not running or ducking from the rain, yet which is so heavy, it is hard to make out any significant details. I feel very good and very peaceful and relaxed even as I contemplate finding my beautiful wife’s feminine form to indulge in sensuality and love-making with in the middle of the “street”, which is actually much like the main set of “Gunsmoke” (the old long-running television series) from what I can tell. Because my physical form is somewhat ambiguous, I can move in different ways from place to place, sometimes in-body, sometimes disembodied (with far more control than I used to have). The imagery seems to go from grayish to subtle lines of gold at times.

There is eventually what I first very briefly perceive as a very light hypnic jerk in my left leg (though it is more like a wave of extreme pleasure evenly moving through it), that takes me out of my dream body (though the imagery is still there as I am conscious again). This feeling is so ecstatic that I actually sigh “wow” fairly loudly and my wife (in real life) asks me what happened. From there, I mostly fall back into wandering the “Gunsmoke” set in very dense rain, which becomes more and more of a darker yet golden infusion.

Morning of May 3, 2015. Sunday.



I had gone to a website in real life (one I use on a day to day basis in K12 education but associated mainly with Australian curricula) to get the template (a “gladiator helmet”) of a craft I had planned for my youngest son. When the page loaded however, it was solely a hacking message supposedly by a religious fundamentalist group who had “replaced” the entire website, talking about Jihad. Obviously, I quickly decided that this “hacked page” was actually not done by a religious group at all (or even adults), but very likely immature ten to twelve-year-olds with no actual religious goal - just an attempt to pointlessly annoy people. (After all, what sort of adult would brag about hijacking a commercial website for children’s educational resources including Kindergarten crafts - pathetic.) Only a few hours later, the entire real website (and all of its thousands of pages) was back up with no indication of the so-called prior hack. No publicity resulted at all to my knowledge, though I did not bother to research the event.

At any rate, in my dream, instead of the fake “Jihad group”, it was gladiators that took over the website. In the lower left-hand corner I see a photograph of a supposed gladiator looking menacingly out at the viewer. I reason that the gladiator helmet template is probably still available as such in this case, and in fact, it is the primary link on the top of the page. I wake up with a sort of feel-good subtle sensation of having laughed for a long time.

Morning of May 2, 2015. Saturday.



In the first part of my dream, I find myself going into a bank while I believe my intentions were to enter a grocery store - though it takes a short time to consider my intent. I seem to be two or three blocks west of my (deceased) sister’s Loomis Street house though all of the buildings are seemingly unknown (fictional). After a short time, I realize that I can become invisible and perhaps take what I want. I actually become invisible while standing there (and there are no other customers) but the tellers (behind a large and fully open counter area) do not really react (at least not in any vicarious fashion). I go to the east side of the room (even though, again, the building is unfamiliar yet in a familiar area on Gillette Street in La Crosse and with a recognizable directional orientation) and find a more secure room that is off limits to the public. A male is seated behind a desk but because I am invisible, I walk over to the mostly empty rows of shelves (or so it seems at first) and explore. The male leaves the room and I pick up some large silver coins, which include at least one Australian fifty-cent coin and one Australian twenty-cent coin (even though, again, I am in America and do not really think about this). I incorrectly reason that I have a dollar with these two coins together but it is actually seventy cents. However, I take many more silver coins and leave the bank, still unseen.

I walk easterly and just before I get to the Loomis Street alley (which runs north and south) a post office jeep turns from the alley (very unlikely) and drives toward me. It then tips over on its side farther onto the sidewalk than I am walking because of a rather odd attempt to avoid both me and a car coming from the other way (though this could certainly not happen in the real world). The scene seems to play out in a sort of unusual slow motion. No one seems to be hurt and I keep walking, turning south into the alley.

It turns out that my wife Zsuzsanna and family and I now live in the Loomis Street house, though it is much different inside. What used to be the “junk room” (as my sister called it) but is actually a bit like an enclosed verandah is here similar in structure to a room in our present house on W street, including the wobbly floorboards. Not only that, there is a large room directly beneath in a supposed basement, but of a living room quality and illogically (and likely wrongfully) perceived at this point as being of the first floor at ground level, and the kitchen I am in being possibly on the second floor. There is a small square opening in the floor of the room I am looking into but it is only big enough for a small dog or cat to get through. In fact, I worry that our two cats (fictional, as they are not the same breed as ours in reality, one being a ginger tabby, another a calico, I think) will soon fall through that hole - as they are also in the room with my wife and I also see a guinea pig running around on the floor near the hole. Our two cats soon fall through. Looking down, which seems at least ten feet, I first think I see blood on the tip of the tabby’s tail, but this turns out to be a misconception. The two cats look up at me and I report to my wife that they are both seemingly okay. My wife seems “trapped” on the other side of the room (even though there is an outside door on her side - though that would only be the case if rendered correctly in-dream) but carefully walks over in my direction near the doorway, as the floorboards become more and more wobbly and problematic to walk on and I worry the floor may collapse completely (though this does not seem to happen after she exits the room). I make a mental note that the room needs to be closed off.

Later, I seem to return to the bank to invisibly take something else; some sort of large silver horse head (from the same room as the coins), probably about five inches long but apparently worth near a thousand dollars or more. I notice the house is looking much more like the Barolin Street house when I return to put what I have taken in a secure spot somewhere.

Morning of May 1, 2015. Friday.



Much of this dream was a bit too abstract to describe the first part of correctly. All the members of my family and I are making things to sell. We seem to be at a picnic table outside in our backyard. The most vivid part does not make any sense. I have made a salad with a lot of leafy green vegetables in it as well as other ingredients such as slices of tomatoes. I pick up a short section of a large even branch from the ground which has seemingly been sawed on both ends. It is a little less than the diameter of my arm. (We do have a short log in our yard in reality but it is bigger than the piece in my dream.) I put the salad on the branch (though I think of it as a small log in my dream) and hold it onto the branch piece with the curved piece of wood (which fits halfway around the circumference of the branch) over all of it. I notice that the wood piece has three screws on it which are aligned to three holes in the branch (one near each side and one in the middle). By tightening the screws, the salad will be kept in place on the surface of the branch by the curved piece of wood until it is ready to be eaten. I notice a small jumping spider crawling up the side of the branch and shake it off - as people will probably not buy it if it has a spider on the salad. (I have found that the term “salad log” exists, so maybe there is a vague association, though I do not recall thinking of this term at any previous time.)

In another section of possibly a different dream sequence, I am doing something involving the usage of postage stamps while sitting on a bed, which seem to have to be American postage stamps to do what I need to do, but there is one point where I cannot find them again (which does not make much sense as I had just seen them previously, having had at least a couple near me). I seem to be in my sister’s house on Loomis Street and am possibly a teenager again. I am not exactly sure of what I am doing. It may relate to drawing or tracing. At one point, I am standing in a featureless semi-dark room and hug my sister and tell her that I love her even though I am also aware to some extent that she has died in reality. She seems very old and frail. There is some sort of concern about where certain stamps are. I pick various foreign ones off the floor at one point. They seem to be kept in a few different smaller cylindrical containers. My sister talks about them but is not sure of their location.

In another part of my dream sequence, I am in a large room with several other people. Many of the people are unknown and of different races. We are all watching “Lost” on a television. However, it is a later version of “Lost”, yet which is a drama concerning earlier situations on the island. Over time, I notice that John Locke is not being played by Terry O'Quinn but a much younger actor. I notice that he has face paint of black and red (and yellow at one point), the black paint being mostly on his forehead and coming down to just below his eyes. He is amusingly dressed and speaking like a stereotypical pirate for some reason and says “Rrrrrr…” at the end of at least one comment he makes. I am a bit annoyed by this version of “Lost” having the same characters but played by different actors, my annoyance growing over time, which I express to the others. I even look it up on the Internet in-dream to see who the actor is that now plays John Locke. However, I cannot remember the original actor’s name and become a bit frustrated over knowing when the different actor took over the role. I see that there is a (fictional) eighth season of “Lost” and possibly more beyond that. In fact, the eighth season seems to have been the last one to star Terry O'Quinn, the plot of the last episode of season eight seeming to relate to Kate and John becoming lost.

Finally, I am at my older brother (deceased) Earl’s house. I do not see him, but his wife Cindy is there. There are a lot of other people in the room including their children and unknown younger people. I am annoyed because Cindy is blocking my way to the front door (even though we are more near the center of the living room near a large table) but I do not show my frustration. I had taken a couple vitamins that are more like headache tablets and there is white powder on the table which I am trying to put back into a capsule or at least elsewhere. (I have never been able to willingly swallow pills of any kind in my life, even very small ones, so I crush headache tablets up into white powder and put them in a drink when I need to take them although I more often use a form of special meditation to erase one when I can.)

In one final dream event, an unknown male knocks on the door and seems to have something important to tell me. However, it soon turns out to be nonsense (which I cannot remember) and he becomes distracted, going elsewhere. This was slightly precognitive in that we actually did have a rare visitor shortly after but he left fairly quickly after knocking. He went to the next house over and was probably selling pay television subscriptions or possibly Internet-related services.

Morning of April 30, 2015. Thursday.



This was an extraordinarily beautiful dream in every way even though it was about numerous tornadoes. The mood and essence of the imagery was near-ecstatic and the vividness was of the type where it seemed like a real environment in almost every way. It even colored my mood to where I feel a residual joyous nature and optimism.

In the first part of my dream, my family and I are living back on Barolin Street. We have different neighbors (the houses also being closer together than in reality) and across and parallel to the street is only a set of elevated railroad tracks about as high as a one-storey house and about fifteen feet from the street (the rest of the area being just grass). At first, there is a point where I marvel at the wind and its sound. It is a very strange and eerie sound but I am not concerned and in fact feel quite joyous when walking into the living room where my family is. I notice the neighbor’s curtains are blowing nearly horizontally out at least one open window. (I am mostly only aware of the neighbors to the north.)

Looking outside from the front porch later to check on the weather, I look to the south and see a few very light gray tornadoes forming. They are rather small and thin and soon seem detached from the clouds above them and seem both transparent and shiny. They follow a path on the other side of our street, moving in our direction. I start telling my family about the tornadoes but they do not seem as if they will cause much damage or go directly near our house (even though one clips the porch later in my dream). Even the wind they produce is not really that strong even though the sound is clear and loud. An unknown person (not a neighbor) sees me on the porch and as we talk, he says they are crayolas and not tornadoes and therefore supposedly not nearly as dangerous. However, large tornadoes do seem to be forming and going by us on the opposite side of the street. The imagery is mysterious and beautiful and it seems to be nighttime at this point.

A neighbor comes over and begins talking with me about the unusual weather (he seems concerned about what to do) and I mention that there are more tornadoes coming. He seems a bit confused and slightly annoyed and says that he is from New York and had not lived in Australia very long. It seems odd to me that he does not know at all what tornadoes are or what they look like. Although he is friendly, he seems a bit frustrated with our communications over time, not seeming to know anything at all about the region or the culture.

At one point, I notice what looks somewhat like a white squarish airplane on the ground across the street (more to the north) and point it out to him. I notice and describe the yellow and black diagonal lines on each side of the back area. About six or seven men are around it, seemingly picking supplies up from the ground and checking the vehicle. I soon realize that it may not be an airplane but some sort of rescue truck that went off the road. The imagery seems rather ambiguous. More tornadoes pass. One of them goes right across the front of the porch but does no damage.

For several minutes, the weather seems to calm a bit, but then I see another tornado moving alongside the elevated railroad tracks (but still touching ground) and making a loud clacking by pulling at the railroad ties and overall structure, much like the sound of a train moving over the tracks. This seems amusing to me and I even mention this to the neighbor. (I have heard in real life that a tornado sounds like an approaching train.) When I look out again later, I notice that a train has been derailed and is very close to our porch, the yellow caboose (hanging at about a twenty-degree angle) seeming suspended on a portion of ruined railing and debris to the left of the porch door. This part of my dream changes though, as it is not there later on. (I get the impression that I will mentally throw it to the other side of the street though I am not yet lucid.) An ambulance goes north at one point, very clearly and loudly.

At one point, I notice a female and about four or five of her younger children, who are apparently trying to escape by going north of the main tornadoes. At one point, they are lying over the street (heads mostly to the north) on their stomachs but not badly injured. I converse with the mother about what is going on and if they will be needing any help. It seems they will be okay. More tornadoes are coming, all of them beautiful and with almost “musical” howling.

I watch for what seems like a very long time. Even though I thought it had been nighttime at most points, the sky is eventually blue with white clouds to both the north and the south and it then seems to be “suddenly” late morning. However, weird dark clouds, almost like hands and fingers (each finger being a thin tornado, growing longer and sometimes at an odd angle), quickly form out of nowhere and the sky goes very dark again. This seems very strange and beautiful to me, but I start talking about how this cannot be normal weather.

At this point, the neighbors to the north (the unknown male I had talked to earlier, now with his wife and at least three children) come out and we all eventually go into my backyard for some reason, probably over concerns of our houses being destroyed. The male asks me why my wife and I had impersonated him when they had first moved in, seeming a bit amused but also frustrated (and slightly condescending in a religious or moral sense) about our behavior towards him. I have some sort of false memory to my dream’s back story (which had not actually occurred to my knowledge) that we had mimicked things he said in the manner he said them. The idea of saying “imitation is the sincerest form of flattery” to soothe his possible dislike of my family comes to mind, but I do not say it aloud.

In the last scene, I finally start to become lucid. I start to say aloud in my dream that it is a dream because the sky, as well as the weather in general, could not be like this in reality. I look to the south and see the dark clouds forming a penguin shape as if someone was making a crayon drawing in the sky. Other unusual cloud patterns occur, mostly to the southeast. “This is a dream,” I say to the other male’s wife. For a short time, her body becomes invisible as she is walking while her head floats along in midair. My family remains of normal appearance as we are walking around while I point out the impossibilities of the patterns in the sky.

Even though I am lucid at this point and my dream remains as vivid as it had been since the start, it is not a full lucidity, but skewed with faulty reasoning. I know for certain that I am in a dream yet also have this clear idea that everyone else (equally “real” as I am in my dream) is in the “same” dream. Right at the mental threshold of the contemplation of turning this into an erotic adventure, I wake instantly, probably because my dream had already been extremely long at this point. Still, upon waking, I feel joyous, healthy, and energized.

---

Again, this dream has the sky becoming as if someone is coloring in a penguin. One of the photographs my sister sent recently (with no way of me knowing ahead of time that she would send me anything) is an old photograph which has me coloring in a penguin in a coloring book as a boy (which had been taken by my mother and sent to her at that time).

Morning of April 29, 2015. Wednesday.



This was a mildly stressful dream with religious overtones (even though I am not religious by nature - though this is more due to the unexplainable events continuously experienced throughout my life).

In my dream, I am living with my wife (and probably our children) in Cubitis yet again. (I have not been there since 1978 and my wife has never been to America.) The area has a different feeling, though. It may be present time; this is uncertain.

A dark-haired supposed female classmate as she might appear now (relative to being near the correct age), though seemingly fictional, visits for some reason (or is possibly coincidentally in the area and I happen to notice her car parked just off the highway). I have an unusual idea to travel with her to town (even though I do not know her name as it is not mentioned to my knowledge), southerly, but which is also seemingly fictional as it is called Mayfair, not Arcadia. This is a bit odd as I have never heard of Mayfair in Florida or at least do not remember such a place name. I feel a bit strange at leaving my wife at the house, though Mayfair seems fairly close, less than ten miles away, perhaps. Best friend Toby T is in the back of my mind as well, and I recall that I have not seen him for years. I talk with the female about how I seemed as a child and throughout school, and no negativity is expressed.

At one point, after my dream apparently shifts, the female’s car is in a parking lot and we are ready to go on to Mayfair. As is typical in my dreams, the car is rendered rather oddly; way too small, and somewhat unrealistic in overall appearance. I have to get in by putting my left foot on the floorboard, which is all there is room for (seeming about the size of a smaller ride-on lawnmower at this point), and hanging on while remaining half in and half out of the vehicle. My female driver has to do the same thing, and after a short time, leans back to recline almost horizontally as she then begins driving the car backwards for a time. I had gotten the impression immediately after getting in that the car would not get very far from being extremely weighted down, but there is no trouble.

Later, things seem a bit more “realistic” as I then seem to be inside a seemingly normal car looking out the window. I see a lot of very strange, nearly surreal, light-colored buildings, some of which look made out of unrealistically close tiers of seashells. One larger building stands out a bit more clearly, but a lot of similar buildings appear over time. The area also seems elevated and higher on a hill (where there are none in any region near where I lived in reality).

We end up near an area that reminds me of my middle school and after a time, people become annoyed by things I am saying about the past and certain ideas and choices people made (in reality, many people I knew no longer live in Arcadia). I end up floating several feet above the ground and shouting things like “You are the ones who are evil, you are the ones who are bullies”, and so on (probably a highly distorted “replay” of the afternoon of March 15, 1974). This seems to have been instigated by blue light coming out of my left hand and getting brighter at times and thus people became suspicious even though it was related to healing intent. I then begin talking about the “bride of the lamb” (not in direct reference to Christ or the church in this case but a marriage of soul mates). I also mention my full birth date, which is apparently supposed to mean something to these people (though here it only related to pointless “news” such as: "A rare planetary alignment will occur during the winter solstice; it occurs every 24,000 years; at the end of the day December 20 2012, at midnight.“ - which is likely just misinformation by "doomsayers”).

I end up flying off with two people (one on each side) who I am not even sure want to leave Mayfair, but we do anyway. It is possible that the dark-haired female (on my left) is another version of my wife even though my wife also stayed behind in the first part of my dream.

Curiously, I found out that Mayfair is actually a hotel in Miami (nowhere near Arcadia, though) in a place called Coconut Grove, it seems. It looks like the same building (from my dream) though I am fairly certain I had not seen it before or at least remembered it.

Morning of April 28, 2015. Tuesday.



This is a series of three dream events that are not directly related. The first is a love-making scenario with wife Zsuzsanna in a completely unfamiliar location indoors. The bed, which is in a corner of the room, is at least twice as wide as it should be and a bit longer.

Later, I am in the front room of our present home on W Street and my old foreman from La Crosse (Pat, deceased) is there, standing closer to the front door. There are at least five or six computer towers with the cases off that he (and perhaps myself) is supposedly responsible for fixing up or upgrading and they are all sitting upright at random angles on the floor. All of the computers seem to belong to an unknown female, possibly a businesswoman involved in production of the (unknown) company. The scene is somehow related to a new computer game or new technology related to computer games which is not yet released to the general public. However, there is confusion over the work to be done as I look on. I know there is something about an internal data bus related to the work, though there is writing on the back of each computer tower near the top and by the power supply (which seem to not be operational). Soon, there is confusion over what is being referenced, as I realize that “bus” is an anagram for USB. Therefore I start to reason that the work involves a universal serial bus. I look on the back of a couple of the computer towers and see various forms of fictional “words” made with the letters from USB; seemingly random patterns like UBSUBUU and similar, usually with an unknown female’s signature, which I do not quite understand. Part of this is vaguely precognitive, as my oldest daughter’s computer’s adapter stopped working earlier this morning and she needs a new one.

In another scene, I seem to be at our present home, though there is no furniture in the area I am in. An unknown male (possibly Pat again; unsure) has a watering can indoors to my right. There is a large potted plant near the west wall also to my right. I am working while sitting on the floor with some sort of device that edits digital movies. For some reason, there are two parts of the movie that, when the frames begin in a particular section, actual water has to be poured onto the device to go into the movie (which does not make any sense, really) in that set of frames only - to only cover a certain number of minutes. I think one part is a scene where my two youngest sons are outside playing with a sprinkler or garden hose or at least playing or walking around outside. The other male splashes some water on the floor with the watering can but also waters the potted plant fairly well. (Often, the sound or awareness of water makes me lucid, but not in this case.) I wait so that I can use the watering can to properly “edit” the movie but wake prior to this task, having to go to the bathroom.