Blue_Opossum

Morning of April 15, 2015. Wednesday.



This was a long but uneventful dream where I am living on Loomis Street in my older sister (deceased) Marilyn’s house. My sister is as she appeared over twenty years ago for the most part. I seem to be only around eighteen years old. The main theme of my dream is some sort of realization that I actually have no home (even though my belongings are in my sister’s house) but instead, somehow live in the night and take to the sky at the end of each day to “go home” (recurring). I seem to have no memory of events that occurred since around the end of 1990 (which is proof that the so-called “storehouse of memory” - contrary to what people claim - is not active during sleep in many cases - with over twenty years of fulfilling history not accessed or “remembered” at all). When I wake, I am always grateful for my wife and family and that I live in a house, and even that I am “still me” even though I am much older.

Still, in such dreams, there is a deeply personal sense of the ability to survive just by flying into the night sky and spending each night soaring about, never tiring. Part of this characterization of myself may relate to how all of my beliefs and experiences are so vastly different than that of anyone in mainstream society. It is not so much like “living in darkness” (or “living within night”) as it is living and moving far beyond what the majority of people have ever known or experienced - that is, living almost entirely beyond the “comfort zones” and self-imposed limitations of others. That seems to be the valid metaphor in this type of dream - to soar and live in mystery with a great feeling of comfort and a sense of trust and natural continuity - to not care at all about what other people think or believe - because of what has already been experienced and validated in so many positive ways.

There is also an unusual conversation in the last part of my dream which seems to last a fair amount of time. My sister and I are playing some sort of card game, I think, but sometimes when I say something, she has a look of surprise on her face and starts talking about how what I said had been in her dream of the night before. It seems curious (in conscious afterthought) to be in a dream, not lucid in any way, and hear someone else in my dream referring to my dream in a way that is assumed to be “real” and being an event that was precognitive to their apparent earlier dream (again, all the while not realizing I am dreaming myself). I do not think I have had a dream of this particular nature before where someone else assumed my dream to be real, yet also a confirmation of a supposedly foreshadowed scene from their dream. It is rather amusing in a way.

Morning of April 14, 2015. Tuesday.





I never thought that I would be running around in a dream as Captain America and yelling “Avengers Assemble” numerous times (which I hear myself yelling quite clearly), though I am in this one, though as myself and proper ethnicity, apparently (and with my real-life name), not Steve Rogers. One would think that a dream this far removed from reality would have at least a trace of lucidity (or even a subtle degree of dream-making awareness), especially as it includes flying near the beginning, but such is not the case. Other than Captain America (I am the leader), there are about six others. My wife starts out as the Black Canary - which is actually DC, not Marvel (let alone an Avenger). Later, she is known to be the Black Cat (which is Marvel). There is one point where I am commenting on how beautiful her catlike eyes are - they do stand out with detail and beauty over every other feature of my dream at one point. The other Avengers in my dream are not actual Avengers for the most part other than I think Hawkeye and Iron Man (though they remain in the background and go off on their own at times).

About halfway through our adventures, on at least the second floor of a building, we find someone who wants to join us. It seems to be a male at first but he is only pretending to be a superhero in the sense of role-playing and his costume (mostly red and white) has a rather shoddy homemade look as well as his shield (which is irregularly shaped cardboard). Still, we welcome him into our group. He calls himself the Shield (an Archie Comics - Pep Comics character, not Marvel, though who came shortly before Captain America), and for some reason that sounds like a member of the Avengers, and he has a vertically rectangular shield in contrast to my round one. However, he has a bad limp in his right leg (apparently from birth) and can barely walk at times. Eventually, I see that “he” is actually a short-haired girl (or somehow changed into one over time - though the general appearance is the same). There is one point where I ask her if she wants the shield to be real and she says yes (which of course would be a good idea) and I simply nod my head and that act makes it real - and so now it is indestructible. We do have to support her (while she is walking) a couple of times, one on each side of her. (Oddly, I do not think to heal her leg.) It is likely that “she” and “shield” (”she hold”) are typical subtle in-dream transitional plays that I have experienced all my life.

I note my reflection in a window at one point, and it seems quite realistically detailed. At one point, two young males in beige trench coats in an alley fire machine guns at me but I hold up my shield and the bullets bounce off and kill both of them from the ricochets. The physical orientation and sense of touch seems quite enhanced as I hold the shield and I vividly feel the vibrations and sense of slight movement as I hold it.

Although I can fly, I do not later on while in costume, because I seem to remember that Captain America does not fly (truly weird dream “logic”). I do however fly near the beginning of my dream when I am not wearing a costume, though other people find this amusing and not unusual.

At one point in the last section, my wife goes to an area on her own for some sort of surveillance (in an alley in an isolated part of the city - the city of which is unknown, though some parts seem to take place in La Crosse) regarding a possible villain to see if it is safe or viable to go to a meeting they are having (though not directly related to our group). After this, we are all in a building on the third floor, I think. There are a couple businessmen on the first floor though I do not see them; I only hear the conversation and do not think it has much to do with us. For some reason, one of the members of my team (or possibly the implied villain - this is not definite) is experimenting with some sort of drug in the form of Kool-Aid or some such. I become extremely annoyed. In fact, I get so annoyed, I pick up their large refrigerator and fling it down the stairs. The overall detail and sound is amazingly realistic at this point. I consider this act as I watch the refrigerator go nosily down the stairs (the door opening and the contents spilling out) and even turn at the stairwell from the force of the throw, and am even aware that the businessmen have to move out of the way (though I do not see this happen). From here, I throw two other things down the stairs, including a cabinet and a storage box of some kind. It almost seems humorous. No one else reacts. I feel like throwing something else, but slowly wake.

Morning of April 13, 2015. Monday.



My family and I seem to be living back on Duffy Street, though the apartment unit on the other side does not seem present. However, one feature also reminds me of the very large antique wooden expanding table in the living room in Cubitis. I notice a large envelope (somewhat like an A4 manilla envelope though white) from the Department of Education on the table and I see that it had not been opened. I decide to open it as it may be important information. I notice an email address on a piece of paper inside but do not note what it is.

Somehow, even though the envelope was fairly thin, a thick though digest-size catalog comes out. It is a softcover book listing educational resources (including math and science lab items including model dinosaurs) as well as playground equipment. Looking through it, I see that the print is so small that it is inherently unreadable. I go outside into the backyard (which then seems somewhat like being on either Barolin Street or our present house rotated ninety degrees to the west) and show it to my wife and youngest son. My son says that even he cannot see what anything says after my wife says she cannot read the tiny print. As in another recent dream, some of the writing seems related to statistics tables or other data and is printed sideways on the page.

Yet again, this was related to something my wife was seeing and thinking about which I could not have known about, yet which entered my dream - something that has been happening almost continuously, and it has clarified for me why I dreamt so often of my “mystery girl” (validated to have been my wife in every detail) long before we made contact (and oddly enough, seemingly before she was born). I now wonder, along with the conscious Blue Pearl event (which seems to be some form of telepathy) how many other people are bonded this way and perhaps either know or have no idea (or even have an iota of belief in such things). I have read of others experiencing the Blue Pearl, but not so obviously linked to another person and validated as such (it is often attributed to “higher entities”, even “angels” of some sort - also related to healing and a feeling of ecstasy).

In this case, it was related to my wife looking at a book (which my youngest son had wanted): "What the Dinosaurs did Last Night" (Refe & Susan Tuma) and contemplating the nearly unreadable tiny print (especially for a children’s book). I found it hard to believe that a children’s book would have phrases in print that seems only about half the size of the print in adult paperback novels and bordering on being too small to even see. Obviously, very poor judgement was used in the making of the book (relative to type), though the images and plot are fairly well done. Looking it up on the Internet, even the first Amazon review I see reports “The font size is way too small”.

In another dream or offset section of this dream, I walk into the garage, which now seems related to the apartment on Duffy Street (again, the other apartment unit and the adjoining garage not present). I need to get a printer to print some pages of affirmations and dream-making declarations. I see my (fictional) long cream-colored printer. I go to get it out and notice that there must have been a bit of flooding in the garage. There is something that resembles a cup-holder on the right side of the printer and where at least two sets of cords are connected from the bottom of that section. When I pick it up, water comes out and I am aware that I will likely not be able to use it until it is all dried out.

This is actually the second time I dreamt of a computer printer being filled with water, the last time being relevant to one in a kitchen sink (from January 22 of this year). The cord concern seems based on a real-life event where a plumber temporarily triggered the safety switch and power outage due to an extension cord socket being partly filled with water while lying on the wet grass.

Other dreams involving water in a problematic or unlikely area have related to a desk drawer, a window sill, a mopboard (skirting), and a transistor radio (from years ago), though in all these cases, being an actual spray or implied conduit.

Morning of April 12, 2015. Sunday.



This is a very atypical dream, and unlike most of my dreams, it is difficult to trace any reasonable associations or present-life relative context of any kind. Although it is impersonal and I do not seem a direct part of it, it is still somewhat stressful. For some reason, a younger unknown couple (male and female, not known if they are married) is in a basement or at least an area under the floor of some sort of small store. The room they are in is not big enough to stand in, probably only about three feet from floor to ceiling, thus the task must be completed while lying down.

An older unknown male brings a deer carcass into the store, although it is mostly the outer part. He puts it down into the “basement” and the woman is told that the skin must be ready by a certain time, probably about three hours, or they will both be killed (apparently shot with his rifle). Over time, with difficulty, the female finishes without any help from the male. There is a bit of conversation and drama though I do not recall all of it. I am present, but not physically uncomfortable in the small room, probably disembodied in my perspective, in some sort of abstract or ethereal form.

From here, the man releases them, seeming in a cheerful mood, and is then seen in a drastic scene-change in the Loomis Street backyard with the deerskin lying flat on the ground (though he is walking away from it, though may come back and get it later) and the couple remain uninjured. I get the sense that this was some sort of mean trick, as he had never planned to kill them.

The only thing I can even vaguely link to this is recently seeing a random tattoo show (I do not watch much television) where a female tattoo artist had to complete her jaguar tattoo, I think, but did not finish it (though was still not the one chosen to leave by the judges). It may be related to being forced to make warmer clothes for the coming winter to avoid becoming too cold (since it is seemingly taking place in Wisconsin), though that is only a guess. Other than that, it remains an impersonal atypical sequence.

Morning of April 12, 2015. Sunday.



This dream seemingly repeated at least once. I seem to be on Barolin Street. My wife is on a thinner mattress on the floor though it seems like we are just meeting for perhaps the first or second time and I perhaps live somewhere else. We end up kissing and sometimes rolling around and for some reason we are eventually laughing. There are several other people in the large room, perhaps her relatives. Her father (whom I never met in reality) seems to be at a stove on the opposite side of the room, though we are in the living room and there is another stove in the actual kitchen farther west of us. I completely ignore the others and nothing is said by any of them. I feel very happy and relaxed and even seem to feel healthier over time.

Eventually, there is music playing (though I do not recall a particular song). I notice that the (fictional) window in the kitchen on the southern side is open and I am aware that I should close it because the neighbors (in the halfway house) could hear the music - and I have a false memory that the annoying neighbors come to visit whenever they know anyone is home. When I close the window, it is much like the metal sliding setup in our present home in the front room, though much smaller and sideways (rotated ninety degrees) yet still seems somewhat like a sash window. The closing of the window feels very realistic.

In some sort of hypnopompic sequence, I see the silhouette of a tree (just after sunset or just before sunrise) with not many leaves, though it is heart-shaped.

Morning of April 12, 2015. Sunday.



The setting seems to be Barolin Street, though the layout is slightly different. I notice people I do not know in one room, though they seem to be implied as my family members at some sort of reunion. An older lady and a girl are walking around and doing something that seems related to setting a table, though this one is in the living room. Only my father’s relatives seem to be in the house.

I walk into the kitchen and see a large table (there being more space in the north area of the room beyond the doorway than in reality). On one end, closer to the wall and the doorway, I see two of my older brothers sitting there; Rollie (still alive) and Les (deceased). In my dream, it does not come to mind at all that Les had actually died several years ago. I say something to Rollie (who is the closest to the corner of the room and farthest from where I am standing) about not having seen him for a long time, though in fact, he does not really look exactly like he should. His face seems a bit unlikely free of more defined features - the skin too smooth for his age, though he still looks very old (something to do with his eyes and lips), though not quite like a real human - even though I somehow easily recognize him as my brother. We have a fairly short conversation, with him doing most of the speaking, but I do not recall all of it - he does say the word “because” at least once and something about a vacation, I believe.

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If I were going to assign any potential meaning to this, I might associate it with my living brother Rollie (and his present state of health, which I have no clue of), though I would not declare anything certain, as dreams related to him have not been that defined in plot or continuity in contrast to the precisely defined precognitive dreams related to my older sister Marilyn.

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Afternoon of March 12, 2015. Thursday.



This dream was based on an ongoing real-life event when I was resting in the late afternoon/early evening, except that my dream is an extreme exaggeration of thoughts I had previously, before I learned more about what was going on. The event involved a telephone company digging a hole right near our house and even blocking off our fence and gate and ability to leave our own backyard. There was no notification that they would be doing this and it is yet another good example of the thoughtlessness and imposition of modern society and the incompetence of the infrastructure in general.

In my dream, we seem to be living in a different region where urban renewal is going on. It seems as if we live in the downstairs apartment of a commercial building (which may also be connected to someone else’s business) of some sort. The ceilings are quite high. The walls are concrete but the building seems to have a large crack near the front of it - related to the adjoining sidewalk and street. There is an area where you have to step across a crevice to go from the building’s front entrance to the sidewalk. It seems some of the cracking was made worse by recent digging related to the so-called urban renewal and no one was informed about the dangers they would be exposed to if continuing to live in their own homes.

Kitty corner from our fictional in-dream apartment building is a house similar to the one we presently live in in reality. However, there seems to be adjoining apartments on one side as well as a large parking area in the back of the other apartments. An unfamiliar female and her older son live in the house, renting it. At one point, even though I am not lucid, I become more and more annoyed by all the digging and building activity going on to where I develop a sense of having special abilities. I decide to attempt to bring things back to how they were. At this other house, I lift entire sections of the sidewalk up using nothing but my hands and notice that the concrete is still somewhat soft and moist but still hard enough to pick up in larger pieces. I remove the entire sidewalk from each area of the corner in both directions and am able to toss it into the street where mostly only smaller debris is left. I remove all the construction fencing and smaller barriers blocking the area as well. For some reason, I also tell the unknown female that I will help her find a much better house in the area (even suggesting that I will create it out of nothing with mental powers). I tell her that I am taking control of the entire town.

At this point, a group of people (of about eight or so) who apparently serve me and my unwavering goal are lined up near the curb. They are all wearing some sort of black-and-white uniform. I notice my wife as well as male friends from junior high school and a couple unfamiliar people. I ask them how many people they have eliminated from the area and the report is twenty, although I eliminate several people as well. I do not do this violently, however (which I suppose is unusual considering how angry I am). I mostly only focus and wave my hand to cause their elimination - possibly teleportation to another region rather than instant death. There is one scene near the parking lot where I am talking to the unknown female and someone I do not see closes their back door as if they thought I was looking into their apartment (which was not the case - all I was aware of was a shadowy area near a screen door prior to this).

Near the last part of my dream, I somehow (using some sort of in-dream “magic” or mental will - though I am still not lucid) wave my hands to seal up all cracks in the buildings, including our apartment house (recurring). Parts of the entire building and areas of the street move to more properly adjoin and stabilize. From there I go on to refurbish any areas that were ruined by the so-called urban renewal project.

A few government buildings, including a police station, are completely and swiftly covered with large vines until only a park-like area is left. It is interesting how I repair some buildings while others are swiftly split up and crumbled into dust by plants. Everything seems to be going well at this point.

Most of this dream is based on real impressions and experiences (and a level of wish fulfillment) other than the ongoing imposition just outside our window. There was even a time in real life fairly recently where someone started to set up equipment and a lot of demolition fencing right near our house and fence. This was by mistake on this occasion, but by the time we got his attention (yelling directly at him had no effect whatsoever - apparently he was hard of hearing but we did not know this), he had already emptied the truck. He seemed to partially blame us for his ridiculous mistake - partly by living in a house that was vaguely similar to where he was actually supposed to go - apparently no address was given to him; talk about an insane level of incompetence. (Apparently we were also somehow supposed to know he was hard of hearing as well as knowing the exact moment he started unloading the heavy materials when we were in the house for a time and were not aware he was there at first).

Morning of April 11, 2015. Saturday.



Not much happens here. There is a pile of miscellaneous items on the bed, including handheld computer games, books (including board books for toddlers), a few small items of clothing, a few DVDs, and random toys - near the center, though not causing a problem for me as I am resting on the bed. I seem to have my eyes closed at times and yet can still search through the small pile, sometimes with my mind alone (without moving anything). Over time, the pile seems to change slightly as certain items appear or vanish. I am not even exactly sure what I am looking for, perhaps a particular book as I seem to remember a focus on a particular title which I do not remember. There is an abstract sequence where it almost seems relevant to what I am thinking; that is, I think of something not quite defined (such as an idea or phrase rather than an actual object), and it materializes but does not stay on the pile that long. Some of the items are actually completely abstract and hard to describe, sometimes with the property of being intangible and slowly sinking through other objects.

My dream becomes clearer before it ends, but only includes a scene where an unknown female brings her daughter into the room, declaring her to be “iconoclastic”, which I am not sure of the meaning of in-dream. I think about the possible meaning, though am associating incorrectly, as I think of the concept of being goddess-like, though it actually means “criticizing or attacking cherished beliefs or institutions”, though my dream did not seem to have any negative implications or feelings. I have had numerous dreams where words are used or established with wrong or “unintended” meanings, primarily due to the lack of conscious thinking and reasoning skills when unconscious, though, on the other hand, interesting and unique puns are sometimes established.

Morning of April 10, 2015. Friday.



This was a very long meandering dream without much plot continuity, though somewhat fun all in all. Though it is not lucid, I am still aware of making most of it via some sort of background focus, which is probably why it goes a bit “haywire” as dreams tend to do when my own thoughts shift, sometimes with transient expectancy of the dream itself. Since childhood, a certain kind of dream I have several times a year relates to an older time period being altered by anachronistic features (typically caused by my thoughts shifting or becoming more aware while making a dream), though this one changes in somewhat of a humorous unexpected way regarding my in-dream role and character.

It starts out with some sort of experiment in an unknown indoor location. A portal is opened after several other insignificant events and conversations occur. I have a desire to go through this portal, which is like a glimmering two-dimensional doorway or wavering plane that is just a bit taller than I am. Someone in unusual plaid pants goes through before me, but after a short time, he is seen to be going into a television that is barely big enough for his waist to clear (probably influenced by a similar movie scene relating to being “stuck”, in “Skinny and Fatty” from 1958 and “Housebound” from 2014), though he manages to go through into the implied alternate world or time. After this, my dream shifts to a western setting, similar to the set of “Gunsmoke”, and it is seemingly the 1800s, possibly the 1880s, because I believe it is mentioned at least once.

There does not seem to be any drama other than a horse having a problem with his front right foot. He goes and rests in the corner of a barn and there is something about being fed a special food to accelerate healing though this scenario becomes odd as he eventually seems to have human-like toes, which will make it difficult to put on a horseshoe.

I fly around in several different positions (including sideways) about ten feet from the ground for some time, including in and out of a hayloft from the outside. At one point, I seem to be in an old saloon (with batwing doors) and I notice my wife, though we apparently have not met yet. I embrace her and think about getting married at some future point (even though I already am in reality). She seems to have, as becoming Miss Universe, been getting ready to be in a remake of “Valley of the Dolls, though as some attempt at a "video noir” television broadcast (which also seems related to the minimal western sets) though I know little about video production as such. I am mostly in a very cheerful mood, though.

As I walk into a different area, I notice my father sitting on a couch with several other people around in a semi-dark room. He is playing an accordion and I feel a strong sense of nostalgia. He seems to recognize me though is younger and has not had me as a son yet. We talk for a fair amount of time, but his voice sounds completely different as well as altered by some sort of electronic device. His entire eyes also glow a bright reflective silver at one point, shining in the otherwise semi-dark room. (For some reason, I do not find this unusual or off-putting even though it is a bit eerie.) I tell him that I am his son, or rather “will be” his son in the future. There are at least seven or eight longer exchanges, but I do not recall all of it.

I notice a man who may be a doctor who is sitting at an antique desk. I ask him what year it is to confirm the old west scenes from earlier in my dream. He says, very slowly (almost as if a part of me is deciding what to make him say) 19… (and at this point I am surprised, as it is not 18…) …78. It is 1978, supposedly. He continues by saying that it is July 24, 1978. (I am not sure of the significance of this in context to my dream, though this was shortly after I moved back to Wisconsin.) I think about the people I had met earlier and wonder why this “old western town” exists during this time period (and for some reason I do not reflect upon it as possibly being a movie set), so I go outside to explore again. It seems to be around afternoon and everything is bright, clear, and realistically detailed.

In probably the most vivid scene, I end up going down a long dusty road (through an otherwise featureless field of grass about a foot high) that is covered with old broken pieces of concrete as the surface (something I have never seen in real life). Some of the pieces are as big as my fist. I notice a few modern buildings in the far distance. I eventually decide to walk back after walking perhaps the distance of four city blocks. I see a car moving in the distance on a different (proper) road. I clearly think to myself how this road would not be suitable for cars (due to how very bumpy it would be as well as having sharp bits of concrete causing problems for the tires) even though it is likely used (or maybe will be used) as such at times. From here, I return to the isolated town with the intent to explore some more.

Memory is a mysterious thing. Relative to the date mentioned in my dream (July 24th, 1978) the 1978 Miss Universe pageant was broadcast live on the in-dream referenced date. “Valley of the Dolls” was also aired. There was also an article in the newspaper we got for that date titled “Those ‘Perry Mason’ Reruns Keep Video Noir Genre Alive”. Additionally, I have a dream journal entry titled “Valley of the Dull” (from April 9, 1978 - my wedding anniversary, though long before I was married on April 9, 1994) where I had written about falling asleep while watching it, the audio and half-awake partly discerned visuals at times integrating with my dream. Memory is a very unusual, though vast precise “storehouse” at times.

Morning of April 9, 2015. Thursday.



Not much occurs in this dream. My family and I are living back on Gellibrand Street in Clayfield (Brisbane area) where we have not been in years.

In my dream, the main rooms of the apartment (first bedroom, second bedroom, and kitchen) are duplicated (all but the porch, which remains in the middle) and mirrored so that there are seven rooms. This makes the additional kitchen the main entrance, I think. I do not really consider this oddity of layout. I am in the process of going through things to see if the house can be arranged better. The large sliding door cupboard we have (originally designed for an office and very heavy) is near the doorway of the original kitchen. I notice that over half of the books are large telephone books from different years. About half of those are for Sarasota, Florida and the other half for Brisbane (Australia) suburbs. I am a bit annoyed about the space they are taking up and plan on getting rid of them, but I do not focus on doing so at the time.

There is also something about finding crossword puzzles for my second-youngest son, but that idea does not really seem that feasible as I look at a few different ones, as I seem to realize that solving crosswords is not really educational (relative to critical thinking skills) and in fact, rather pointless, though not as pointless as the “find a word” puzzles (and all their variations of titular names), which I also notice now and then in some magazines, which are not even puzzles and where you just look at words within random letter patterns and circle them. I mostly just look around at random books and magazines. Some of the writing is rather sparse on some pages and not quite discernible.

One book I pick up has a comic-strip-like sequence of small photographs near the top of the page, mostly only of the back halves of various breeds of dogs (but from the side, all facing to the left). I continue to think about what books we can sell or give away (or just throw out). Perhaps it is a play on “Dog Tales (tails)”. I had just seen a rather odd section of a television show in real life (Dr. Harry), where it showed a large dog jumping up and humping someone’s leg and the commentary was something about the dog not being playful, but intending to show dominance (probably one of the strangest and more “Captain Obvious” things I have seen on that show).

Another book actually seems to be a virtual baby in two-dimensional form (though about several months old), though probably at 2:1 scale relative to the imagery on the pages. How the baby is - relating to its status, mood, or health, depends on what pages you turn in what order, I think - am not sure if there is an index or table of contents relative to this. There are several pages that just show the stomach which may represent various stages of breathing or to signify weight. The book does not make noise and seems to be on glossy paper (probably only about forty pages in all). Perhaps it is a play on “The Baby Book” (in this case, the baby being the book).

There are other unusual books with unusual features but I do not recall everything. Some of this may relate to reading about Charlton comic books recently, which were once so cheaply made, that the pages were all different sizes and with different page edges (such as straight or sawtooth-shaped edges, often mixed from page to page) as well as being of different thicknesses, sometimes almost like cloth.

Morning of April 8, 2015. Wednesday.



I am only about twenty years old and at my older sister Marilyn’s house (she had died in reality but is alive and much younger in my dream). There are several other people there, mostly relatives, including an older brother on my father’s side (Rollie, also known as Dave), another deceased sister’s (Carol’s) husband, and others. It seems to be morning at this point (though as is typical in some dreams, the time immediately changes later on to late night).

I am not at all lucid yet still attempt telekinesis with a certain level of confidence (which yet again tells me that there is always a part of me in the background that knows I am dreaming). My dream is of a typical level of awareness but gets clearer over time. My attempt at telekinesis does not work that well at first, though eventually, people begin to notice when I point out how a book has moved. It is on the top of a stack near a doorway and turns just a bit towards me.

Eventually, I am able to cause the book to hover in the air as well as move about the room for a time. It feels comfortable and effortless as usual. Oddly though, it is eventually discovered that there is a string attached to a corner of the book which leads to my right hand. (This of course is not feasible - as even if there was a string causing otherwise pseudo-magical movement, the book would not be able to hover at a distance from me, slightly above me in fact, with just a string linking it to my hand - though this is just the typical dream distortion from having no critical thinking skills in this state). It all seems amusing at this point and a few people get out video cameras though I do not feel that embarrassed. After a short time though, it is realized and revealed that not only was I really performing “real” telekinesis, I had also somehow “magically” materialized the string from out of nowhere when the book moved to land on the floor.

I cause a few other things to float around the room including a brother-in-law’s (Corey’s) cap retrieved from his head, which irritates him a bit (and he makes a comment) though he does not seem really angry. He goes in another room to get some fishing gear.

My brother Dave had apparently planned a fishing trip (and I have the awareness that I would be going) but he comes back in from the porch, leaving the front door open, and complaining in a louder angry tone about there being snow (although in reality I have fished in all kinds of weather, including ice fishing). I can see it falling when I look through the doorway (though would not be able to in reality from the angle I am sitting, as there is an enclosed porch there).

Suddenly, it is later at night and I look outside from the porch door and notice that the front yard is much larger than in reality (with that familiar vague background awareness I am making my dream yet not at all aware it is only a dream), taking up what would otherwise be the sidewalk and entire street. There is about three inches of snow on the ground but dead grass is still showing through in many areas. I notice what looks like a small igloo near the central area of the large front yard, probably a snow fort built by neighborhood kids (though this turns out not to be the case). I soon notice that it has bits of dead grass throughout the structure. Eventually I realize it is (or it changes into) a beaver hut (at least for a time).

At this point, several other relatives (including my deceased sister Carol) are standing around outside. There is a row of trees near the front of the house which was once there in reality though on the street-side of the sidewalk. A young version of my wife and several “copies” of her are in the area - some sort of lesser tulpa forms perhaps. I am able to tell which is the one I want (the most defined and attractive one) and she is automatically “bonded” to me in every way. We kiss intimately and embrace for several minutes though she sometimes walks away to work on the igloo/beaver hut/snow fort with the other copies of herself. No one else notices me at this point though I am vaguely aware they are standing around talking, possibly complaining about the weather (and possibly beavers interfering with ice fishing). Oddly, my wife is wearing a one-piece bathing suit and is barefooted even though it is very cold out. (Everyone else, including myself, seems dressed for winter, though I am wearing a lighter jacket than the others.)

In the last scene, I feel very cheerful and optimistic. I move the entire surface of the ground and snow like waves, symmetrically from each side (with sort of slow-motion clapping motions though not touching palms), the waves moving to the middle to add more snow to the “igloo” to make it larger. I mention (to any relative that may hear me) how all the snow in the area will be in one spot near the “igloo” (which implies I am saving them from doing any snow shoveling later), which is eventually the case as the entire snow cover moves over the ground making the structure larger. The sense of correct perspective and size-orientation seems incredibly real and even the sense of moving the snow as such (by thought alone) seems “real”. For every few inches, the snow cover (and a small amount of dirt) forms a narrow wave (again, each side of me) perpendicular to where I am standing facing due east, resembling elevations in a vegetable garden, but continuously moving until most of the snow is gathered up (it is also as if the ground itself is forming parallel ripples at times). There is even a familiar awareness of the consistency of the snow in being either “packy” or “fluffy” though I have not seen any real snow for over twenty years.

Morning of April 8, 2015. Wednesday.

Dream #: 17,642-06. Reading time (optimized): 2 min.



My dream starts with a vague backstory about advanced technology and the theft of a new type of computer from a business. It seems to be America. The setting is so ambiguous and distorted at first it is as if I am in the King Street boarding house on the second floor in the northeast corner room but seeing another part of La Crosse through the wall at street level. (It is as if the wall is invisible or transparent, though I am still aware of the doorway.) It seems to be night and day simultaneously.

Although Dennis (half-brother on my mother’s side) and his friends are the ones planning to steal several computers and advanced technology from at least two stores (possibly including experimental prototypes not meant for public use), I am a suspect by the end of my dream while the authorities do not catch them.

In the last scene, my brother says police are in the area, behind a row of tall commercial buildings. It is later at night at this point, and there is very light rain. I am in an open area. The layout is unrealistic. Although there is a row of commercial buildings behind me, there is no other side of the implied street. The police are in an alley behind the buildings. The area I am in is like a big park with a couple of random commercial buildings off to my right with no parking lot or sidewalk. The area in front of me is mostly featureless though implies extensive residential lawn.

Suddenly, a policeman walks up to me from my right (and I am aware it is solely because of where I happen to be at the time, not about anything I did). He is only about twenty, probably a rookie, wearing a black rain poncho and is reminiscent of the Grim Reaper. The association is off-putting, though the menacing cloaked figure is ambiguous regarding my original expectation as I realize he is not Death personified. As he holds my arm, I do not attempt to pull away. I calmly say, “I didn’t do anything.“ My body feels like liquid fire, an unusual awareness, intensely realistic, with no distortion in perceiving body shape and presence. It only lasts for a couple of minutes but leaves me feeling weak (yet beginning with inexplicable energy, as if every cell in my body is conscious but fading). I walk along as he holds my right arm without force. Upon waking, I have the beginning of a sore throat and an ear infection. When I wake, the fan is not on for the first time in months, but I do not feel overheated or dehydrated, only nauseous.

---

My dream is similar to one from the same date in 1978. It involved being swallowed by a giant rat leaping down upon me and had the same rare physical sensation. It was also at the beginning of getting the flu. The cause is likely a body temperature above normal.

---

Morning of April 7, 2015. Tuesday.



In my dream, I am yet again in our apparently fictional house that has recurred for a few years now. (However, Zsuzsanna has said that features of it remind her of a place she used to live that I have never seen.) It is the house with the long strange narrow pipe that goes from a bathroom (seemingly on the second floor in some dreams) down to what seems like some sort of unrealistically large utility room.

In this particular dream, there is a recess in the floor between the ends of about two sets of three or four floorboards on the second storey. This recess is unrealistically filled with dirt at least several inches deep. My wife’s oldest sister is in our house and watching me dig through the dirt with my hands. I attempt to mentally create some sort of atmosphere of treasure-seeking as she seems somewhat doubtful. Eventually, I find what turns out to seemingly be an Australian penny (no longer in use even though prices commonly indicate otherwise - something I have always found bizarre - the idea of “theoretical money”, especially when not accurate, being one of the strangest concepts I have ever encountered in reality). I eventually see that I am holding a large Australian twenty-cent coin. It is enlarged to a few times its normal size (by assumed perspective only, as sometimes things seem magnified in dreams). I talk about this with her for a short time. The coin’s head side is different than anything I have ever seen; seemingly some sort of male athlete. I sense that it may be valuable. (In reality, I have not really seen that many special twenty-cent coins.) There is something else about coins and lids from bottles, but my dream changes from here as two sections of the floor fall out from under us. There is a “whoa” sound of surprise and a sense of sudden movement (as if we are actually falling).

This scene seems to be a false alarm though (or a partial typical dream “reset”), as I am then suddenly still on the second floor on what is left of the third section of floor on one side of the room. (The other two sections of the floor that fell reminded me almost of falling serving trays.) I am looking down into the large utility room, noting that the pipe has become detached from the toilet (recurring). However, when I look more closely and with more attention, the waste and debris I first thought I saw turns out to be skeins of yarn on the floor (which is quite dry considering there should be water from flooding from the displaced pipe). I also notice many other craft items on shelves in the room below. I feel a sense of relief at “realizing” this, as there is no major mess to have to clean up as I first started to worry about. (For some reason, I am no longer focused on our floor problems at that point.)

After having dreams of finding coins on the ground (or in some cases buried in the dirt) since early childhood, this may be a play on “trying to find value in dirt or in one’s location”, or “trying to find sense (cents) in Earth or one’s location”. I suppose there are a lot of ways to look at it. As a multidimensional spiritual being in a “lower” limited-to-three-dimensions physical realm, this could relate to trying to find value in materialistic life on Earth or value (or sustenance) in the ground alone (with such as a garden). A “yarn” can be “a long or rambling story, especially one that is implausible” and can also be referred to as BS (implied waste). Still, people tend to forget that visual associations may be more meaningful than puns or metaphors in some cases. In this case, it may relate to the potential of creating or “weaving” something (not necessarily a “yarn”) out of something that would otherwise be wasted.

Morning of April 6, 2015. Monday.



This is only the second longer dream related to the “Supernatural” television series as far as I know. However, there is a huge number of older dream records I have not looked at recently that were never online or newly researched, so it is possible there are older ones. In this case, it is concerning the actual characters rather than the actors as in my last related dream.

Firstly, Sam and Dean join with Crowley to kill hellhounds and other beasts (including the “monster” from “F/X” from 1986). Sam, Dean, and Crowley seem like best friends with a long history of helping each other. The setting seems to be some sort of isolated hall inside a building or offset from this world. Crowley is injured by the F/X beast and Sam and Dean pull him to safety after defeating every beast. I am seemingly not directly part of the action here because I am never threatened in any way even though I am on the scene fully in-body and thus actually present.

Eventually, I am in a large mansion that apparently belongs to another member of the Winchester family. It is a younger male. Sam and Dean stay in this place while Crowley gets better. Oddly, he rests in a large drawer in a large four-tier chest of drawers, I think the third drawer up. He has cuts and bites all over his wrists and around his neck.

An amusing scenario is when I hint at what Sam and Dean have been doing for a long time, as the other male who owns the mansion does not know anything about it. Every now and then, I mention words like “supernatural”, “hellhounds”, “ghosts”, and so on. Every time I use a word as such, Dean gives me a concerned “don’t you dare” look as if the other male is not supposed to know anything about Sam and Dean even though he is family. Finally, I say “hunters” (my last “hint word”) which makes both Sam and Dean look at me in an extraordinarily annoyed manner. The other male never really understands what I am talking about, though, as I am only giving clues rather than directly explaining or revealing anything.

At one point, I show the unknown male the scar on my left wrist. It is larger than in real life (typical in-dream “magnification”) and with several more defined hollow areas. Dean has a scar similar to mine also on his left wrist, though with stitch marks in a straight line near where the hand meets the wrist, about five or six small holes. I explain how my scar was caused by a fight with an octopus-like sea monster. (I even have a vague false in-dream memory of this fictional event).

Eventually, Crowley wakes up and slowly crawls out of the drawer and his wounds are all somehow healed. He is apparently completely human now. He attempts to move things with magic, such as a book and a stack of papers, but nothing happens. He also now seems only about twenty years old and seems very dejected. A voice comes down from a corner of the room. It is his mother (who has apparently taken over Heaven and has a lot of minions). He does not say anything about having no powers though I am aware he is scared because she demands to see him and he cannot teleport. I am uncertain as to what his fate will be.

I try to move some papers (by magic) from a high stack of old papers on the chest of drawers but nothing happens. I am annoyed but do not draw attention to myself. I end up leaving and walking out the front entrance into the night, finding myself on Loomis Street walking southerly. Behind me is a cheerful group of about six college or high school students, one being a young version of my wife (which I do not realize until later). As I walk, I sometimes cause, by apparent “magic”, a single maple leaf (there is only one here and there along the way although there is other organic debris on the sidewalk) to move from the middle of the sidewalk into the street. At one point, however, the trick seems to be done by blowing downwards with my hands cupped and works as such. The others do not notice or at least are not astounded or impressed. However, it dawns on me that this is “not possible” (I am never lucid) and I cannot do either the magic or the blowing again to make a leaf move anymore, though I attempt it again several times as we walk. There is ambiguity here; sometimes the “maple leaf” is more like a piece of Spanish moss or steel wool (which seems the “same”) with a very vague association with a miniature cage or cage-like “nest”.

Soon, it is late morning even though it was around midnight just seconds before. I am attracted to my wife (the group now walking ahead of me) and cause some sort of cable near the sidewalk (probably the large telephone cable being installed here recently) to rise slightly and move around near her legs to stop her from getting too far ahead of me. Another (unknown) female sits behind an unlikely “outdoor counter” on a street corner. Eventually, my wife and a couple others of the group sit down against an outer wall that is somewhat like part of a school. I notice that my headphones are entangled within the cable I had been magically moving about by telekinesis. I mentally cause the headphone cord to become disentangled and rise straight in the air and “plug itself into” the underside of the roofed sidewalk. I also notice that sections of the eaves are like the ground, that is - upside-down ground by which the dirt and a few pieces of debris (as well as a gum wrapper or some such) somehow does not fall. (Do I detect a play here on “plugging into Eve?”)

I then start to admire my wife’s legs (which are still partly within a section of the cable but not that entangled) and contemplate how to be with her from then on. It seems the only concern worthy of focus.

Later, there is some sort of secondary dream or slowed-down hypnopompic “epilogue” where Sam is sitting in a dungeon-like room with straw on the floor near an old wooden door with bars. A holographic human torso (no arms or head - just the torso, but wearing some sort of Middle Ages doublet) keeps moving through the closed door at about a forty-five degree angle, ghost-like, but not threatening, causing Sam to jump in exaggerated surprise and puzzlement each time. This scene eventually changes to a dalmatian in the same place barking at, and dodging, red targeting lasers from an unknown source (illogically, seemingly from the inside wall of the room opposite the door, though this actually does not seem to be the case as the dog does not seem to notice anyone with a rifle in the room). For a short time, I “remember” that Sam Winchester is a dalmatian, but then I realize I am thinking in abstract terms and wake.

Yet again, my dream seems to be partially triggered by something my wife had seen and thought about (which has happened hundreds of times over the past several years). She had checked the details of the “Supernatural” show a day before she usually does (without saying anything). The cables (and “plugging in my headphones”) could actually be some sort of metaphorical form concerning telepathy between two people. That is my guess at this point, anyway.

Morning of April 5, 2015. Sunday.



I already knew this many years ago, but once again a “popular” dream myth is exposed as just that - a myth - this being the one where you supposedly only dream about vivid sexual encounters if they are not presently occurring in reality. (Besides, common sense would dictate that the Tetris effect would render that idea as ludicrous.) Not only that, the level of conscious dream creation and control is almost a hundred percent save for one unusual distortion.

In my (first) dream, I am, for some reason, focused on a room on Loomis Street, the one with the second refrigerator and which was used both mainly for storage boxes and my last sleeping place before moving to Australia (as well as where I read all the letters from my wife before we met). Though I was last there in early 1994, I recall how my older sister still had at least a couple quarter-filled bottles of shampoo from as far back as the 1950s as well as a stack of old “Dig” magazines from the 1950s. My sister called it the “junk room”. In my dream, this room is far more cluttered than it ever was in reality - so much so, it is impossible to walk through it on the floor. It begins to dawn on me that I am dreaming. Oddly, instead of stabilizing and enhancing my dream and taking control as I often have in the past (even as a toddler), I decide to wake up and look around (without moving in reality), which I do.

During this short wakeful period, I start to make my next dream, which will start in the same location but then change to our present address on W street. After a short time, I am back in the “same” dream, more lucid and with more vividness than ever. This time it is raining indoors. The rain is extraordinarily refreshing and I revel in the sensations for a time as I climb up onto a stack of cardboard boxes on my way through the room. Eventually, I leave this room through a fictional door, either teleporting or simply going into the front room of this house by way of a typical dream composite.

From here, I “summon” my wife, who appears automatically at about the age she was when we first started writing or a few years younger. We indulge in passionate kissing and embracing, the sense of touch “accelerated” (in the manner that all senses are in dreams at times, including internally glowing enriched imagery, augmented “impossibly loud” audio, blissful “smells as simultaneous breathing”, and other perceptions not possible in waking life). The only distortion is, when I am holding her from behind, a “hollow pocket” appears within my dream’s rendering; sometimes in her upper back, sometimes in the air - though this does not distract me from reaching my peak. This seems to represent the tiny degree of control that is lacking in my dream creation and continuity. However, I keep “sealing” it (in an automatic mental sense), whereby it fills itself in somewhat like fluid, like a three-dimensional holographic dynamic recess (spherically inverted) sealing itself up from some sort of minor “glitch” of consciousness - like a “blind spot”, perhaps, but more in line with my view and not always on the periphery. I see this as an environmental “flaw”, not related to the form of my wife - more like a superimposed partial “mini-portal” that I do not place my hand near at any point. Still, it may also be a vague association with “hollow of the back” or even the phrase “holler back” (as a typical in-dream orphaned pun).

Even though we had indulged in making love in reality just a few hours prior, my dream seems to increase my desire and awareness and even seems to “reignite” and increase my physical stamina (almost to a point of disbelief considering I was already just fulfilled), something I cannot help but puzzle over other than my dream self consciousness (in some incarnations) being more viable than the conscious in some ways (certainly not in logic, critical thinking, or even common sense, but more relative to bodily control, physical capability, and cellular function).

Affirmation forms, including “Thank you for telling me when I am dreaming”, “Thank you for making me aware of when I am in a dream”, and hundreds of similar phrases, seem to have almost fully integrated into my normal thinking processes, although I still like to experience non-altered or “unscripted” dreams.