Blue_Opossum

Morning of April 5, 2015. Sunday.



Most of my dreams of today had various levels of lucidity, but some are too abstract to relate correctly. Being “inside” abstract forms is sometimes very comfortable, other times bland and uncomfortable (almost strenuous, in fact).

I am in a typical unconscious state of being aware of needing to have my body on one side or the other, a certain number of minutes on each side, and a certain position, as some sort of important faux system of continuity, mostly abstract (almost like “drawing invisibly” or “painting” internally - even maze-like at times), seeing myself doing this even though I have not moved my physical body as such in reality - checking my sleeping form while disembodied and hovering above myself to see if I am in the “right” position at the “right” time, almost like an attempt to interpret myself as a letter of the alphabet that must change in precise rhythms over time, although with the sense of repeating the “same steps” after a time, which my body seems to do. This seems to last for a very long time (several hours), though likely an illusion and perhaps only lasting a half hour or so. This type of “pre-dreaming” or whatever it is seems more common for me over the last few years.

In my main dream, I am walking about in an unknown city with “friends” I do not know in reality. It seems to be late at night. There is some sort of idea related to gang activity, but nothing dramatic happens. I do have a revolver but do not shoot anyone. The setting is ambiguous. I am walking through alleys but at one point, one becomes an internal hallway and then an alley again.

Next, the most vivid (even beautiful) part of my dream occurs. I walk out through the end of a hallway into a sort of distorted alleyway and become aware of a thin young male sitting at what resembles a comic-strip lemonade stand. It is set back a bit from a large storefront and parking lot. He is apparently a drug dealer and in fact is sniffing a lot from his own creations, though seems very cheerful and passive.

These in-dream “drugs” are small containers of various mixed colors of paint (which a person apparently drinks to get the effects, each color being slightly different), or at least that is what it looks like and what I instinctively believe. There is a very strong smell of paint in the night air as well as an odd organic scent, or rather, likely a chemical fabrication of fruit scents and such; blueberry, orange, lemon, grape, strawberry, and so on. I feel slightly out of place in accidentally arriving at this location (almost like accidentally going into a bar) and somewhat wary, but the unknown male seems very sincere in his service and asks me what he can get for me (inferring a particular mix of particular colors in precise proportions). I cheerfully say “no” (with respect) and continue walking. I really do not feel like drinking paint even while within a dream. At this point, when I look down, I see rivulets of paint flowing out into the parking lot from his area, which I end up walking on (the entire area is covered), all different colors and glistening brightly in the moonlight, swirling and forming multicolored abstract pattens. These completely random and incidental swirls of color flowing out over the parking lot and into the street seem hundreds of times more pleasant to look at than typical graffiti. There are gallons and gallons of paint seemingly being wasted in his business, but it also seems like the remains or “waste water” of whatever process he is working with. There is an intriguing calmness during this scene. (It also seems somewhat odd that so much paint has recently been flowing out from one small area - though not necessarily in a negative context.)

Although I become more lucid, I mostly end up walking around without doing much other than enjoying the night air and sense of peace. (I am still not quite sure what city I am in.)

Morning of April 4, 2015. Saturday.



I am lucid in this dream, though it is not of the level of lucidity that enhances the dream state to full vividness and highly focused dream-self awareness. It starts out at our present address on W street, rendered fairly accurately in layout and overall appearance. My wife is with me for most of the events. Two unknown people (late forties perhaps - male and female though not necessarily a couple), dressed somewhat formally as for a business, are on our porch while there is a storm beginning. A thicker bolt of lightning comes down and strikes them, actually curving around underneath the eaves, seemingly knocking them unconscious. I decide to summon the lightning to strike me to see what will happen (regarding my in-dream state of awareness) as well as thinking it may improve my physical well-being. I am not able to do this though and become somewhat annoyed though not outright angry.

Later, my wife and I are on a crowded bus in a larger city though the storm seems to threaten to tip the bus over. We get off the bus and the other people do as well, though we hold a cheerful disposition. There is a strange sudden heavy rain that blows horizontally (mostly only in one small area of the street, near the corner) and for a moment, almost seems like a large unseen hose spraying from the front of the bus (from near the rear-view mirror). It is not even near us so we do not get wet.

I am later walking down the sidewalk and there is a large gnarled tree that actually moves one lower branch to avoid physical contact with me, which annoys me in the manner of an insult. I then demand (though without projected anger in my voice) that the tree make contact with me and heal me. The branch perfectly forms the shape of a human hand and holds it over the back of my wrist. (This reflects somewhat on a long vivid dream of over twenty years ago where trees on a boulevard reached down to caress my face and express love though the mood is entirely different here.) The mood is not fully positive though, and my lucidity is not that pronounced - though I am still aware that I am making most of my dream’s contents.

Later, it seems to be after sunset and there is still some sort of unusual storm activity (but not directly threatening in any way). My dream takes on a similar mood and setting as previous dreams where I am looking straight up at the sky; the zenith (and almost always with abstract features). It actually seems to take place in the same setting as other similar dreams somewhere in the southwest area of La Crosse. (It is not anything like the “remember the twilight” dreams where I watch lights or other things and events in the sky over the horizon with a nostalgic sense.) The sky is very unusual regarding the cloud formations and I also see various “objects” moving around, such as an orange trapezoid and other geometric shapes now and then, though which seem two-dimensional and not related to a spacecraft of any kind. From here, my dream becomes too distorted to hold cohesion of any kind. The sky; the zenith; becomes a random hodgepodge of abstract morphing shapes.

Morning of April 4, 2015. Saturday.



In this dream, there is an airplane with two younger pilots that is landing on the streets of, I think, La Crosse (though as is often the case, something is rotated perpendicularly to its real placement, in this case, the parking garage area). The pilots are given instructions on what street to land on, though it seems to be a smaller passenger plane, though not with passengers, and the situation is not very realistic in terms of size orientation. (It is doubtful such a plane would be able to land on the street of a residential area, with or without cars parked on either side.)

I reflect with certainty on how the airplane, after landing, is then going to continue to coast, turn a bit to the left, and crash into the multi-storey car park (or “parkade”), which it soon actually does, about four blocks north (from where I am viewing the event), on the southeast corner of that block. At this point, my dream is similar to another recent crash dream (concerning the train derailment) where everything seems to move with impossibly slow speed. There is an unknown male (possibly an unidentified classmate from my middle school years) with me. We avoid the flying debris (which is unrealistic considering how far away the building is) by walking about half a block to the west, but as with my other dream, I choose to go back to where I was to continue watching. However, I am not threatened in any way, or hit by any flying bits of concrete as the building is still slowly breaking up (and “exploding outward in slow motion”) at the bottom only. I watch the building slowly collapse and at one point another identical building, more to the west, also seems to collapse (without any reason) and rebuild itself a few times over (which seems to have something to do with my in-dream thought continuity). At this point, I lose interest and slowly wake.

In a way, this seems associated with past dreams; one where I “froze” a tidal wave (though with the water’s energy still vividly cycling through the form) as well as one where easily I “froze” a nuclear explosion but of which was still very slowly unfolding, though with more than enough time to leave the area on a spacecraft.

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Morning of April 3, 2015. Friday.



I am in an unfamiliar outdoor area without many features. I am unsure of the implied time period. Apparently, it may be the 1960s, as I see young versions of the Beatles walking around though I do not interact with them. I get a sense of their innovation. I also reflect on how my best friend Toby and I could have seen them in concert in our teenage years if we had made more of an effort, which does not make sense as they had broken up as a band by then. I still feel cheerfully nostalgic. Even though I seem to be physically present, some of the events look quirky as if with film effects, including when the Beatles are walking and the frame rate seems altered. It might be implied to be footage from or for “A Hard Day’s Night” from 1964. Later however, the implications distort into also being linked to “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band”, which is from a later time period (1967).

At a later point, I am listening to “Being for the Benefit of Mr. Kite” on a pair of headphones while sitting outside near a table. It is a very long fictional version, probably about eight minutes or more, and has random parts here and there vaguely similar to parts of “Revolution Number Nine”. The music has less instrumentation in some parts (as if one more instrument is dropping out of the recording every few measures) but at one point sounds a lot like the real version of the song.

What intrigues me is vivid but incorrect audio of certain parts of the music. For example, near the last section, instead of the melodic flourish over the circus-like organ cacophony just prior to the return to the verse, it is the Dixieland air horn sound (as from the car on “The Dukes of Hazzard”). I hear this in the left channel. It makes me feel very cheerful.

Also, during this time, I watch Mr. Kite, which is a black-and-white caterpillar made up of a long series of miniature “war bonnets” of mostly black feathers, each tiny “war bonnet” directly behind the other. It moves about on the table, seeming to be moving in time to the music; undulating rhythmically and turning about left and right, defining a narrow oval path; a surreal event.

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Update (same day): Yet again, a dream occurs that had imagery seemingly influenced by something Zsuzsanna had seen and thought about, something that I could not possibly have known about. In this case, it was specifically a caterpillar that she thought looked as if it had feathers coming out of its body, which she had seen on a children’s DVD (checked out by her for our two-year-old daughter) the night before. (I did not see it prior to my dream.)

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Morning of April 2, 2015. Thursday.



I am sitting in the back seat (on the right side) of an unknown car which is facing north, in the central area of a parking lot of a medium-sized shopping center (probably near Shopko regarding the streets and general layout that appears later on). My wife is in the front seat but on the passenger side on the right (we seem to be in America in La Crosse, though she has never been there in reality). Over time, two unfamiliar younger light-haired males (that remind me vaguely of rock stars from the 1980s but are dressed informally) get in the car and then argue and physically fight (not that violent, just pushing each other around) over who is going to drive. Finally, they both get out without even seeming to notice either of us.

Soon, another young male gets into the car, which is somewhat of a surprise as I had decided I might drive us myself. The young male, wearing an unbuttoned denim jacket, reminds me vaguely of a young Lionel Richie though he seems completely unknown in-dream at the time. I ask him if he needs any money and he passively acknowledges that he does with a slight nodding. I give him two ten dollar American bills, although that amount seems embarrassingly small to give if he needs food for the day. Oddly, even though I am not at all lucid, I will them to change into two fifty dollar bills, which they do without much mental effort. I hand him the money and so he will then drive us to our next destination. He seems slightly tired and world-weary but is cheerful. (There is possibly a play on “Rich” here, as well as a focus on the “hello” vocalization of his song “Hello”.)

From here, my dream goes into a fairly rare state of me completely ignoring the implications of the environment as if I was not fully “in” my dream (even though I technically am, and fully in-body). There is some sort of nearly inaudible “music” that seems to be caused by “tidal waves” of lava coming from the west of Third Street (and me additionally expressing my illogical and unlikely boredom of the event with some sort of dull mental “humming” of a mostly static melody). The streets at this point seem elevated by about four feet by volcanic rock and streaming lava. We travel in the car through the lava and cooled volcanic rocks for several blocks without much difficulty (I seem to be “mentally driving” the car at this point for the most part even though the other male is still technically driving) even though “everything” else (including most of the commercial buildings) is being destroyed. Curiously, I am somewhat annoyed by the imagery but otherwise think nothing of it. My dream takes on a very dull and bland awareness and emotion at this point, but grows again in vividness and comfort in the next scene.

Eventually, we are at our house, possibly somehow now in Australia on Stadcor Street, though rotated ninety degrees westerly to the earlier established directions (overall layout) of Wisconsin. I notice that we do not have that much bread, though I am preparing to use some raisin bread (from about one-quarter a loaf left) to make a ham and cheese sandwich (as there is no other fresh bread). It seems the previous volcanic “tidal wave” and streets covered with both cooled and ongoing lava streams was so inconsequential I have already seemingly “forgotten” about it at that point in-dream. My family seems cheerful, though there is a slight awareness of how ridiculously expensive bread is as well as how it often does not even last a day or two without going moldy (and is sometimes already moldy in the store). There is also a slight awareness of how store shelves are growing more and more empty with less and less workers acknowledging customers and even a hint of reasonable service (at least in this region).

Morning of April 1, 2015. Wednesday.



My dream starts with continuing concerns and focused computer-related ideas from my waking life, though I am not lucid at all. It concerns one of the real and weirder flaws in the Internet, primarily Google in this case, which astoundingly, no one at all seems to have noticed over the years. It concerns some sort of inversion glitch, whereby what you search for displays the opposite data depending on how it is done, with incomplete listings. For example, Google will claim that, for a particular newspaper, certain editions are not available and with access to the ones that are. I took screenshots of this since I doubt most people would even be capable of believing this. If you go into the same archive with a different method (or link), the opposite of what was previously claimed (in every case) will result. This remains in my mind just prior to sleep for a few reasons; one reason being that I had forgotten the exact method to reverse the inversion error to the opposite listing and one method was no longer viable; the other reason being that it is hard for me to believe so many thousands of people are so lacking in awareness over such a long time. However, the newspaper archive itself is much a mess, with random pages of newspapers within other editions and wrong dates often being listed. Still, with close attention, it is useful for my research and dream work documentation to a point (relative to my earlier childhood work).

Later on in my dream, an unknown female from the department of education visits us. The house seems completely unfamiliar though is possibly some sort of composite with rotated room layouts. I go into the room where my computer is and notice that it had seemingly been left on apparently overnight. Its appearance is quite different and it is a desktop rather than a tower. The front of it is some sort of transparent corrugated-like reflective surface which seems to light up (from the inside) with orange bars if it is on. A bright green light also supposedly indicates it is on (as in reality, though it is smaller and square and higher up - on my real tower it is near the bottom). However, after looking more closely, the power light is never actually on. The appearance of the light being on has to do with where I am looking at it from a particular area of the room. Regardless of the brighter light, walking about into different areas seems to make it go on and off, but what I learn is happening is solely related to reflections from another light source, possibly outside sunlight (though I am not sure). This scene is very vivid and rather strange because it really does seem like the power light is on at times. After playing with this apparent illusion for a fair amount of time, I leave the room.

The female from the department of education has my form templates and some apparent worksheets but when I go to look at them, it turns out to be a clothing catalog (with a few smaller pages within the normal-sized pages, one featuring a girl playing on a swing in blue jeans). Not all of the pages make sense as it is. Because I “must” use this as part of the education progress report, I contemplate how I am going to arrange certain sentences and such between different scenes that feature different clothing, some outside.

Soon after this, a rear column for the (fictional) canopy that for some reason is over the sofa she is sitting on starts to buckle. I go to check what is wrong, but she gets up out of concern for heavy weight falling on her due to some books and board games on the top of the canopy as well as some on a higher shelf on the wall (though I believe someone else warns her about it, possibly my youngest or second-youngest son). I notice fancy curtains hanging from the canopy (like on a canopy bed) and hanging down (but tied back to each column, looking rather regal) at the sides and front of the couch. Looking closely, I see that the column, which is mainly a hollow plastic beige cylinder, is both warped (as they are in reality in almost every cheaper bookshelf) mostly at the top and becoming smaller, tapering off to about half the diameter and oddly bent near the end for a short distance. The column is so warped, a part near the top is almost L-shaped, yet I still somehow manage to fit it back into the underside circular recess of the canopy (which would be impossible unless I somehow bent it back - yet it somehow seems to work as is regardless). By that point however, my two youngest sons are climbing over the couch and are taking down heavier books and board games to lessen the overall weight even though it is probably safer for now.

Morning of March 31, 2015. Tuesday.



This was the last dream of about nine of this date but the longest and most meandering one. I am back in time, probably 1984, and in my twenties. However, the setting is somewhat like a composite with at least some features being my room in Cubitis (where I lived from 1968 to 1978). Other features (mostly the front) resemble the house on Loomis Street (Wisconsin) as well as Barolin Street (in Australia). At one point, I look out from the porch and see that it is nighttime. However, I hear some sort of lawn mower or hedge trimmer to my left at a neighbor’s house though I cannot see them anywhere (they are probably at the side of their house). I make some sort of odd comment (to a young male I am not sure of the identity of) about the area looking so clean that it looks like it was vacuumed. My comment is not really valid, though, as there seems to be large loose stalks of dark yellowish dried-up grass everywhere, in front of my residence as well as the houses to the left and to the right. Still, I have a false memory that it had recently been much messier, including with trash strewn about by the locals.

I am in my room and am aware that one page of my dream journal had been tampered with. This is a memory concerning the time when I had large notebooks (over-sized binders), which were stacked on a table, to have most of my dreams documented on notebook paper in handwritten print (though later pages were typed). The page is separate (possibly freshly written) and concerns the summary of one dream, taking up about half the page. Susan R is the one that had tampered with it due to her apparent “playful” jealousy on the nature of my in-dream dream record (though also somewhat sarcastic and mean-spirited). I do not remember this dream from my dream record within my dream at all even though I read the whole entry very clearly (but do not remember having originally written it - and my summary seems more choppy than with some other typical entries of the time). It concerns some sort of meeting with Edna Pearson (a character from “Prisoner: Cell Block H”; a show that I have not thought about at all since 1986 - thus this fascinates me as to how such a memory could surface for no apparent reason without an iota of thought for about thirty years) and there is detail concerning a trip on a train and a chimpanzee. Susan had written “Hello Edna Pearson!” in cursive handwriting larger than my print and something obnoxious about me finding the chimpanzee attractive simply because I dreamt about one. There are a few other short phrases she had written about various parts of the paragraph that are making fun of my dream work as well as some of the metaphorical associations. I am very angry and crumple up the page and complain to her about her jealous prank and tell her to leave and that I do not want to see her again.

After this, an unknown male and I have a conversation. This is something to do with having no more contact with Susan and going on to find the “mystery girl” (wife-to-be). He does not believe me (or in remote viewing or precognition) and so I tell him that I will bet him $1,000.00 that what I say is true. He agrees to a bet, but oddly takes out a one-dollar Australian coin (even though the time period and location is only related to America) to make the bet - and I agree (also taking out an Australian one-dollar coin to place it on the small table between us), though the small amount seems a bit pointless to bother with and I get a vague impression he is being skeptically condescending through this act (though I do not pursue any conflict with him).

I see a girl outside through a front window when I am in a store (part of a larger storefront area) later. There is a chin-up bar station as part of an outdoor fitness route (relevant to La Crosse) that she is working with in front of the store with one other girl and on the adjoining sidewalk. I start to get an impression that this is either the “mystery girl” (with no memory that I married her in reality) or at least my “next” partner in life. She falls at one point and so I go to ask if I can help her. She seems very friendly and cheerful and I then note that either I am lying down or I am extremely short, as she towers way above me, goddess-like, by at least five feet (similar to the “Rollover” dream in 1990 before I made first real contact with my lifelong “mystery girl”/wife). I get the sense of an alien-like presence, but it seems like a composite of my real wife (in the “mystery girl” phase) and some sort of tall multidimensional being, though not bigger, just unrealistically (disproportionately) taller.

I then go to a large shopping mall (of at least two floors) where there is a monorail track on the opposite side, the wide hall of the mall (mostly open along one side in one section) being directly adjoined to the train platform. At this point there is an awareness that I am making my dream (or “my world”) even though there is no lucidity at all. I walk through the very large hall of the shopping mall and note that the monorail train is approaching at the same level and is going to crash near the large rear entrance where the double doors allow access to a flight of stairs and the bottom floor, and it does crash shortly thereafter. It somehow derails (with no seeming cause other than my unjustified belief it will) and plows into the building, likely killing several people. The crash is long and dramatic (almost like slow-motion), with bits of glass continuously flying everywhere for several minutes though I somehow avoid the large pieces. However, my entire left hand is filled with small glass shards and bleeding a bit, which does not concern me that much. During this time, I had attempted to duck behind a corner and walk to the front entrance but for some reason go back again, fully exposed to the flying glass pieces. This is the most focused and vivid part of my dream and the broken glass tinkling sound is almost soothing regardless of the threatening implications.

From here, I go walking through another part of town. Susan R is seated on what reminds me of the front of the Arcadia Post Office and the male I had talked with earlier is with her and seated (about a person distance away) to her right, annoyed upon seeing me again, especially as a blasé accident victim. She seems very annoyed (almost disgusted) and emotionally hurt and is seemingly not going to listen to anything I say. I stroke her hair with a somewhat authoritative dominance and she is very angry at my audacity. At this point, I feel no guilt or passiveness and understand that whatever path I choose (whether or not it is with her) is my right. I lift my left hand and it glows with bright blue light, slowly getting brighter, the glass flying out and any cuts automatically healing (with only a vague concern that the flying glass may endanger others - though it does not). I am watching my hand glowing a brighter blue as I wake, with Blue Pearl events continuing shortly after fully waking.

Morning of March 29, 2015. Sunday.



I am walking up a very long and steep flight of stairs (both by my choice and my seeming simultaneous creation of it by way of non-lucid dream control). Others, including a wealthy old lady, are ahead of me. This flight of steps is so steep and high, I get a strong impression that I will not be able to go down them comfortably. (This is mainly due to the fact that I am facing the solid structure of the stairs as I am ascending them but when walking down the steps, I will be facing open space, which might cause me to feel ungrounded.)

I decide that instead of using the stairs on my way out after I do whatever it is that I have to do, I will teleport from the second floor of the building down to ground level (though this never occurs by the end of my dream).

I notice that, as I am climbing the stairs, the building I am in is like a huge cathedral. Eventually, I find myself in a large L-shaped area that has numerous bookshelves along all walls. Apparently, it is a book sale, displaying both new and old and worn secondhand books. My wife Zsuzsanna eventually appears and looks over different sections.

A young Japanese male seems to be responsible for most of the book sale, regardless of how large an area it seems to be in (at least one city block). At first, I talk to him about the books in broken Japanese but eventually I decide to implement a translator where I can speak English and it will automatically be translated into Japanese. This translator even forms a holographic matrix around my head to display the correct lip positions for each word and syllable, so that it also looks correct. It is as if I am actually speaking Japanese to anyone watching me. My translator works both ways. I hear the Japanese male speaking English even though I know he is speaking Japanese. His voice is loud and clear.

I look over a set of small but thick softcover books on a low shelf that seem to be in a series and are mainly about mythical monsters, though one has a triceratops on the cover. At first, I notice only book number four, but eventually find all of them and decide to buy them. I carry them around with me to another section closer to where Zsuzsanna is.

I pick up a large hardcover book from a top shelf and notice that the writing is very small and sideways on some pages, which seems to relate to statistics, old census reports, or other government records. I see that the front covers (though not the back covers) are missing from most of the books in this particular section including the one I am holding, which is also damaged in that the spine is at a slanted angle. Even though most of these books are in English, it seems that they may have been printed in Japan. I do get a lot of various information from the young male but cannot remember all the details, as there are a lot of different books I look at and talk about.

I find a large book in the area where Zsuzsanna is looking around. It seems to be someone’s dream journal in the form of a novel. It is about a man and his wife and young daughter traveling over an isolated desert region in a station wagon. I read one entry about a drive over a particular stretch of hard, cracked ground and what was seen, the dream journal being from the perspective of the male, who is the driver. I decide to get that one as well.

Eventually, Zsuzsanna and I are ready to leave. She has a large canvas carry bag full of books. Mine is smaller than a backpack. In order for us to pay, the young Japanese male has to put on a blindfold and determine the price by weight alone as he stands near the section we stopped at. I do not question this. The total cost is fifty dollars. As I go to pay, I see that there is about two hundred dollars in fifties and a few twenties in my wallet. For the third time in this dream, I implement an idea that seems to prove that a part of me knows I am making my dream. Even though I have enough money to pay for the books, I mentally create an additional fifty dollar note on the other side of the twenties.

From here, my dream fades. However, as it does, I begin to notice additional bills of odd amounts, such as a thirty-four dollar bill, a seventy-dollar bill, and several other fictional values.

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Morning of March 28, 2015. Saturday.



I am unsure where my family and I are living. It is reminiscent of the Barolin Street house but has more rooms, which are larger, in an unlikely layout. There is a knock on the front door by an unfamiliar man with his young son. Eventually, there are several unknown people in a get-together in our home. I do not express anger or annoyance.

One room, possibly a kitchen, features ovular panels that have scroll-like and two-step-like areas on each edge with a large fancy hook in the center of each in a row of about six. The main colors are white and silver but there are small flower decals. I see a lot of dust and dirt on them and on random areas of the wall. I feel that I should clean the house. The presence of the unknown people makes the prospect unlikely at this time.

Later, I am cleaning a room, seemingly the first room from the front door, but it also has kitchen features, including a sink and long counter. I throw out a possibly leftover lasagna dinner that has hardly been touched because it may have gotten dish soap on it (as well as dust and dirt) because of being on the counter near the sink. It was underneath plates and silverware. This scene repeats in an area perpendicular to the first, but I decide it may not be a good idea to throw out the second lasagna yet, as I do not want to waste money. I remain uncertain of whether it is inedible.

There are conversations I do not recall that possibly relate to the layout of the house or relatives in America. I go outside and it seems to be early afternoon. There is long grass that is dry, brown, and powdery. I mention mowing but a visiting neighbor does not seem concerned about the lawn and mentions that it would be hard to clean up at this time and so I should probably wait. I tell him I will use shears to trim it. It seems I will be doing this soon. My dream is clearer at this time but changes again.

Now it seems to be early morning, about an hour before sunrise. I feel a nice cool breeze when going onto the porch. I comment on it, saying how good it is. My dream becomes the recurring “nostalgic skywatching" type. I see a parade in the sky - continuous large shapes above the horizon, moving from right to left. They are possibly holograms, not natural clouds. Each is different. I see what looks like ocean liners, trucks, buses, and buildings moving across the sky. (The designs are abstract until I began watching more closely). I continuously say “wow” and “look at this”. The effect is unnatural (at least in conscious afterthought) though I do not contemplate what the source might be, thinking it is rare, wondrous, and possibly not caused by human activity. After several very large “clouds” (some rectangular) pass, an unfamiliar male neighbor comes out and watches upon hearing my loud expressions of amazement.

An unknown female, probably the man’s wife, comes out. A child comes out. A shape, like a white cloud, appears in the sky. It resembles a person in silhouette in a martial arts stance. It remains in the same area above the eastern horizon (assuming the Barolin Street model). The female talks about how she remembers this stance from her martial arts classes. Somehow, she is soon "standing” in the sky in the distance, just above the horizon, not implied to be a giant, though the perspective and distance orientation is wrong. (The effect is an ambiguous combination of her seeming to be on an invisible stage only about fifteen feet away, yet also being in the sky far away above the horizon.) She somehow manipulates this “cloud” (to the left in my view) with her martial arts moves, “wearing” the “cloud” at times, though other times “standing” beside it. I do not become lucid at this surreal impossibility or even suspect that anything is unusual. This continues until my dream fades.

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Notes: My oldest son was involved in martial arts several years ago, attaining a black belt, also teaching martial arts for a time. This dream’s last scene is autosymbolic of vestibular system correlation, though projected. (That is, I do not feel any falling sensation. It is only subliminally anticipated by way of synaptic OR gating, my dream self with no memory of this very common dreaming and waking process.) I think this last scene has influence from a Harvey Comics Casper story, where I think a big cloud was bragging about being able to become different shapes but breaks apart when becoming shaped like a human body. There was also a “Timmy the Timid Ghost” comic book story about anthropomorphic cloud giants. “Cloud people” have appeared in other dreams.

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Morning of March 27, 2015. Friday.



The first part of my dream is mostly incoherent and is an abstract hodgepodge involving the slide in my old elementary school’s playground (though facing the opposite direction as it did in reality - east instead of west - something dreams do often), something related to someone doing laundry, and some sort of table of a fair number of “names” that are not actually names but some sort of five-character combination of numbers and letters for the most part that seems to be related to “signing in”, perhaps to use the slide. I focus on how, when the new slide was first installed in the playground (in reality), a line of students as long as the street resulted in the morning (seemingly every student in the school in fact), thus not everyone got to go on the slide if they were farther back in line. After several days though, the novelty wore off, and there was no longer a line.

My dream shifts into a more defined state. I am in the living room in our present home on W Street. I notice that the couch has about six levers sticking out from the bottom that are much the same as wooden organ pedals. However, they also work like organ stops in that they pull out or push in a short distance. In turn, this seems to function in a manner of a combination lock.

By way of a false memory, I manipulate a particular sequence of these wooden stops in a certain order - knowing that money will somehow materialize inside the bottom of the couch in the boxlike storage area if the right pattern is implemented (like a combination lock/password composite). After I do this, I lift the seat up and see that there is a stack of fifty-dollar bills (Australian) near the middle area, nearly six inches high a stack. I look through them to make sure it is “real”. Although the money is “made” somehow, it is still the same as “real” money - or possibly teleported from somewhere else (though I do not get the impression it is stolen). Even though I am not lucid, a subtle part of me knows that I am making my dream (as is often the case, even as a child) and so I am focused on the “reality” of the imagery of the money, which at times, seems rendered incorrectly (the bills seem to have features of both American and Australian fifty dollar notes at certain points). However, this neither bothers me nor triggers a “closer” lucidity (as it probably should) and my dream fades from here, whereas I get the feeling that the money will automatically be “correct” (correctly rendered) in the long run - though by the time I ponder upon that, I am already mostly awake.

Morning of March 25, 2015. Wednesday.



My family and I are living at our present address on W street though it is somewhat different. The area east of us is more like a rural area with less buildings and includes at least one large empty lot. There is a wall clock featured that either is - or is designed to look like - an antique wall clock. The top section is octagonal (same shape as a stop sign - may be an association here with “stopping time” in a “wishful thinking” sort of way) and the bottom section primarily vertically rectangular.

The clock is the main focus of my dream though we also have a garden where the shed is in reality, covering about half of the backyard on the far side. I notice that there are very tall healthy plants, not sure of the variety, that are taller than a person. I briefly contemplate whether or not other people will be annoyed by this in their not being able to casually “spy” on us.

There is also a scene where a very old lady (unknown and unfamiliar) with a seeming cheerful disposition is smoking a cigarette in the (fictional) empty lot east of our house. I notice another cigarette (long, but with no filter) in a shallow narrow ditch (running east and west) in the ground and actually smoke it (even though there is no act of lighting it other than with my in-dream thoughts though I am not lucid). Although I am not a smoker in real life and rarely smoke in my dreams, the usual occurs. Small pieces of tobacco annoyingly fill my mouth from the tip each time I inhale from it. At one point, I exhale, and an amount of smoke far more than would be possible flows from my mouth as I sit on the ground. The old lady seems to be looking for the rest of her cigarettes which she had apparently dropped but continues walking east. There is also at least one unknown older male (about forty) standing around at the time on the north side of the ditch. (There is a very subtle geometrical redundancy as dreams tend to have at times. The cigarette lying longways in the small ditch is similar to the elongated drill-bit-like cog fitting in the semi-circular recess of the clock’s door in the next scene.)

The scene with the clock is fairly long and complex. The only character other than my wife and children at this point is a black-haired young female “servant” (though implied to be divine or angelic, though without the typical mirror-like eyes in this case). She is the one that starts the idea of the work on the clock involving the refurbishing of three different gears. Other than that, the clock seems mostly hollow of working parts but is still implied to work well again when repaired. Her intent to “restore” me (via the clock) seems devotional and selfless (though my wife unknowingly triggered a Blue Pearl event - brighter than usual - when I was in a health-affirming state the other night, just with her mental state at the time from a different room - thus the girl may also represent a young version of my wife - also yet again supplying evidence that the Blue Pearl is related to either direct communication between real soul mates or an entity or mechanism that acts on their behalf).

Paying close attention, I note that one gear, a slightly elongated cog that almost reminds me of a piece of a drill bit, is quite small and goes into the top edge of the clock’s “door” into a long semi-circular recess closest to the hinged side, though still has something to do with the timing mechanism rather than just the door uniformity and latching. Another cog is fairly large, about one-sixth the size of the clock and goes in the lower left side of the back of the clock’s hollow area. It has the typical inward-pointing rounded triangular hollows of radial symmetry, I believe five of them (likely representing the five fingers). The last cog is about half the size of the previous and goes between the door and the rest of the clock somehow, near the center of the back of the clock’s face. Apparently this work is metaphorical of restoring a certain level of well-being, which did have an effect on my real body after waking in a positive sense.

This dream was partially a result of generic health-affirming work. Although it is possible to script, write, and incubate a dream exactly as wanted (at any level of in-dream awareness) in every detail with my own lifelong methods, I often use very general terms (such as “thank you for restoring me to maximum well-being” or “thank you for returning me to my healthiest state” and thousands of others) and no plot-based constructs in this case. It is also important to understand the continuity of these phrases (most people get them wrong or use incorrectly worded ones - as most commercial products have incorrect methods implemented which is something I have noted for nearly thirty years - though in some cases a placebo-based event may result with certain people). Supplements of the phrases here should be “thank you for my restoration to maximum well-being” and “thank you for my return to my healthiest state”. This is because other levels of consciousness process word forms in a different manner than the wakeful conscious mind, especially gerunds; for example, as mentioned in another entry, “healing” can have many meanings, including an “infinite now” of NOT ever healing (since ”-ing" implies ongoing and never actually completing).

The smoking scene in my dream is likely related to a product I was aware of years ago and often joked about. It was a cassette which I read about, supposedly designed to help people quit smoking. The approach used in affirmation was completely wrong and ludicrous. It was typical of invalid dream-work-based or self-hypnosis-based commercial products of the time where negative terms were used and the focus on what was NOT wanted was implemented (for example, saying “I will quit smoking” is pointless at several levels).

Morning of March 24, 2015. Tuesday.



As I have mentioned in the past, I do not always include the details of how the majority of my dreams since earliest childhood have (sometimes impersonal or trivial) visually precognitive layers that are too precise to be by chance. This time though, I am including the relevant notes, because even I thought that it would be ridiculous that a “miniature apartment building” (of the same size orientation as my dream) would be erected near our home - in reality, after a huge amount of digging right near the outer wall of our home ensued. In fact, there was no clue that this would be happening; no letters, visits, or calls; no warnings about this project whatsoever - and is now considered by us as the most thoughtless act we have ever endured from people, though at least we did not have to leave our home from old asbestos being broken up in our own yard with no warning (with the associated health risk) as with certain other families.

This dream has a very similar fictional setup and focus as other recent dreams though this one is proven to be related to overlooking an actual miniature city (or model) - unlike my other dreams where it seemed a “real” city was oddly or partially rendered in-dream (so as to only appear somewhat model-like from the extremely high building I was in). However, the overall feeling of being very high in Earth’s atmosphere is very vivid and seemingly real at first. Eventually, though, again, it turns out that I am in a high building but the cityscape below is some sort of expansive model as far as I can see in two directions from my (fictional) corner apartment. I become aware of this because I see several boys running around some time after looking at the view and thus it is proven to be a model. It seems to be fairly late at night.

The boys do not seem mischievous. I note with interest that the buildings and streets are very realistic for a model in some ways (primarily the layout and overall design) though they lack more intricate detail and color variations. One boy is about the same height as a model four-storey apartment building. Most of the model’s layout includes parking lots and smaller industrial buildings. I am still in the highest building in the region, it seems, though possibly only on the third floor at this later point. I do not question why a model city would encompass so much of an otherwise normal neighborhood or at least the one normal building I am living in. I am aware that other people live here as well. (Of course this “miniature city” correctly foreshadowed the NBN network. Small craters also appeared everywhere in the neigborhood which had to be filled later on and NBN workers shouted near our house for weeks, as early as five in the morning. People could not communicate by telephone for over a day.)

Later on, it seems to be during the day. There are two bright points of light in the sky, one nearly directly above the other but by a fair distance (around forty-five degrees and seventy degrees inclination). Assuming the directional orientation is the same as our present real house on the corner, the lights are in the northwest area of the sky. One is seemingly a planet (Mars or Venus assumed) but the other (the higher one) is some sort of meteor. Even though it is a meteor, it is understood to be a regularly occurring event similar to the appearance of a comet. For quite some time, I think about its potential of approaching and hitting Earth. I even hear a boy ask his mother, “Will the meteor hurt the earth’s body?” At one point, I have a disconcerting idea that the meteor will eventually hit my building, even my apartment, though this is based on the ridiculous (though seemingly clear) in-dream assumption that I can tell what direction it is moving even though it is still only a small point of light in the sky. (Of course, in reality, meteors do not remain in one part of the sky as such as in my dream.)

Eventually, the meteor does hit, though it is in the distance, directly north. There is a huge explosive impact; soil and debris being cast out in a wide arc. I hear a rumbling and an extraordinarily loud whistling wind (of a lower pitch), the nature of the impact (including the sounds) seeming quite vivid and realistic at this point. I am aware that this will eliminate all life on Earth though I do not feel that fearful for some reason. However, at this point, my dream quickly grows duller in awareness. For some reason my “last act” is to say goodbye to my wife’s younger half-sister in a sarcastic manner (with a slight awareness that her mother is there as well). At this point, the rendering is crude and highly distorted and ambiguous. Somehow she lives in the room in my sister’s house (on the first floor) that I used to reside in before coming to Australia over twenty years ago (she has never been to America). At the same time, I am still inside the fictional tall apartment building I had been in at the beginning of my dream (and on the third floor), but yet with an implication that I am also outside at ground level at the same time - a distorted trilocation event (which is not all that uncommon in my dreams).

Morning of March 23, 2015. Monday.



My wife Zsuzsanna and I are in a car in an unknown metropolitan region, though it could be Brisbane. I believe she is driving though the scene is not rendered that fully or clearly - it is more like we are moving along within a light mist that is only implying travel by car. She is relating to me how a (unknown) younger female was caught sending stolen precious gems in the mail (diamonds, emeralds, amethysts, and rubies - which I become aware makes the acronym “dear”). Apparently, my wife is required to sit with other people and take some sort of government-related tests. The location and the building is all unfamiliar.

There are perhaps a dozen people in the large room sparsely seated at several tables. Although the scene does not really have that much of a scholastic setting or mood, I become aware that the people are working on one-page third grade math tests for the most part. This has to do with some sort of government-related assessment to see the potential of certain individuals in society. It seems that each test for each person is slightly different (possibly so that people cannot copy another person’s answer). Mostly, there are one to two-digit addition problems and a few multiplication problems. Most of the people are over thirty and seem to be quite challenged by (seemingly at first) third grade math. Every now and then I notice something different, such as something that resembles a “Wishing Well” newspaper feature. I am not involved in any testing - I am only there for my wife due to complete distrust of mainstream authority.

At one point, I notice that Zsuzsanna is sleeping on a table on her side due to the stressful environment. I walk to the other side of the room and talk with an older wealthy-looking lady working on a test. She seems over fifty. I tell her that I know that it is (generic) third grade math because of my long-term experience with teaching K12 mathematics (though mostly based on combined international standards). At this point, however, I do see a long division problem on her page where the divisor is three numbers. However, I notice that the dividend area is not a complete number and to the right of the digits that are visible is a long black bar filling out the rest of the area under the long division symbol. I tell the older lady that this is not “real” mathematics and that some additional seemingly simple equations cannot resolve to decimal values (even though they are implied to), suspecting that something is “wrong”, yet I do not become lucid at these impossible math tasks though which still can apparently be answered “correctly” (that is, without the “no solution” option). I get the impression that some test questions may be in octal, by which such as four plus four would then correctly equal ten. I contemplate that the government could easily trick people by not stating what base system is being used - thus playing on the general public’s ignorance of higher mathematics and thus no one would pass, which irritates me somewhat (even though the tests really did seem to be at primary level earlier on). (Looking back at this entry and including additional pertinent notes, I consider that it may vaguely have been inspired by a similar scene from “The Flintstones” from 1994, concerning the whole math test scenario.)

From here, I walk across the room and see Zsuzsanna sitting in an armchair and another (unknown) female is on her right and other females are standing. It seems to be a smaller open room off the main room. At first I think she may be ill and I see “blood” she may have coughed up, but it turns out that she has a bowl of tomato soup on her lap and the other female has a different type of soup, possibly celery.

On the other side of the main room, I start talking to someone (also in an armchair) who turns out to be a very young version of Don Knotts (deceased February 24, 2006). Another male on his left is also seated and seems to be a young Jack Gilford (deceased June 4, 1990). I am only slightly aware that they may be ghosts. Our conversation is very cheerful and friendly and with respect. I notice that other people are looking at me oddly as they apparently cannot see the two males I am conversing with, which I confirm by directly asking them if they see either of the two other males and their general response implies that they do not. In fact, Jack plays a prank on one unknown girl by somehow pulling her belt off so that her pants fall down. However, this seems ambiguous because she is immediately wearing different clothes. (The scene was likely due to a brief association with Simon Hunt, also known as Pauline Pantsdown, an Australian satirist). Later, I notice that a large television is on (to the right and against the wall from where we are). Jack makes some sort of comment regarding how he cannot understand what people are saying in movies anymore. There is something about Harvey Keitel being in the (unknown) movie. Earlier, there had been the sighting of a Barbara Mandrell album (odd, because I know very little about her and have not seen anything about her in over twenty years that I recall). There is some sort of confusion about the name in it being more like “(Barbara) Mandel” which shifts to “Harvey Mandel” (an American guitarist) in confusion with Harvey Keitel. “Mandel” may actually be a subtle play on “Mandelbrot” here.

Morning of March 22, 2015. Sunday.



This dream has seeming semiconscious self-directed events (the usual unexplained “magical” abilities) even though I have no level of lucidity, though that is somewhat typical of certain dream types.

I find myself in Tunisia for some reason (likely because it was in the news recently). I am sitting on a bench in a public area (which faces the street) that reminds me vaguely of a street in Arcadia where I used to sit on a bench with my mother. In particular, it was where I first looked through the first volume of the adult-oriented “Man, Myth & Magic” encyclopedia which my mother had ordered for me when I was only ten. I remember a page with a macabre photograph of an unwrapped mummy, which may have significance in why this location is featured at the beginning of my dream (due to the main part involving a cemetery as well as corpses). To my left are two other benches, each about a bench length apart. One man on the farthest bench is arguing with another man. Both seem Middle Eastern and seemingly military or paramilitary. The man who is complaining about the other has a weapon. The man being yelled at is standing closer to the business building. On the next bench over from me is another unknown male who may be in a different military organization. He is pointing a machine gun at the man who is yelling (who is not aware of him). Soon, he actually shoots him, though this act does not really seem previously planned or warranted by his supposed small troop.

Even though I do not feel threatened, I decide to leave the area immediately. Another unknown younger male, possibly military, joins me. We end up going to a Middle Eastern family’s home to get ready to go to America to escape any repercussions caused by the man being shot. It seems I may be in danger by association, that is, because I was in the same area as the shooting at the time as well as having lived in America. (This idea probably comes from a vague association with “Tower Block” from 2012, seen just hours before, though did not involve foreign concerns.) This is explained to me by a Middle Eastern female who lives at the house. There is also a younger boy. Oddly, I decide I will leave (with the other unknown man) through an area in the backyard that is all fenced in and filled with chicken hutches and other small buildings and various equipment - in order to leave the area as quickly as possible. This does not seem possible at first and the other man wants to leave via a less safer side entrance to the house. However, even though I am not lucid, I have an inherent ability to go through solid objects and quickly teach the other male how to do this. We go into and through the house’s outer wall and then the fenced-in area (and all the hutches and such within as well as straight through the wire fence itself) and somehow also immediately end up in America, oddly enough. No teleportation is directly implied even though we are now on the other side of the world. I feel safer even though I have apparently been identified as a witness to the shooting by a hostile group.

I am soon in a building that adjoins a large cemetery. This building seems to have both the groundskeeper for the cemetery and a police station, as well as an office related to foreign affairs or international crises and a politics-themed library. At this point, I also seem to work for the police or military or as a private detective. I look out a large window and notice a pile of rubbish next to the outermost tombstone, about the size of one grave site. A female police officer tells me that the pile of rubbish is actually a small dump on land that was purchased by several members of the public - thus they decided to use it as a dump instead of a grave site.

Eventually I notice unusual but vivid imagery. Just before, all the headstones were perpendicular to the window I am looking through. Now they are all suddenly facing the window. Not only that, I am somehow viewing each headstone as being “above” the previous (all about the same size) even though that is not possible relative to my location and perspective. There are at least three implied headstones in a “column” even though this “column” is artificially representing a flat landscape in totally false perspective where the headstones would otherwise be behind and beyond each prior one. The common visual wrongness and ridiculous screwed-up perspectives (as well as typically bizarre composites of locations, people, objects, and even emotions) in dreams still fascinates me after almost fifty years of dream work nearly as much as dreams where most everything is rendered with incredible realism, including literally visually precognitive and validated remote viewing layers.

I eventually notice that each headstone has a large holographic display on its face (as an implied “window” into the otherwise flat headstone) where it seems that you are looking into the coffin from just above the soles of the feet of the deceased. However, each view has two people. The deceased person is to the left of the view and one of their at-the-time living friends or relatives is rendered as lying next to them to the right in this view. The first headstone displays two unknown males, the “middle” headstone shows a boy and apparently an older brother, and the “bottom” one shows an older man with a beard and a male friend or relative. I can tell which ones are the deceased because their eyes seem painted on. The holographic image was rendered from a template where the deceased’s friend or relative was originally photographed lying next to them. This almost seems like some sort of futuristic trend regarding cemeteries. However, I also get the impression that the left half of the view is in real time with a camera within the coffin. This would mean that part of the view would eventually show decay and skeletal remains if such is the case.

From here, the female police officer (who is seated behind some sort of L-shaped counter in the corner of the room) is talking with another officer. The other officer seems to have more authority and is an older male, possibly working additionally with a diplomatic group. There is concern that there is a small bomb (about the size and shape of a Velveeta cheese box) in one of the drawers of a crypt in another location, about the fourth up. This bomb may destroy the whole region. However, I do not feel that much concern for my safety. The rectangular bomb is featured in red on some sort of radar-like display on a large monitor in the room and is also somewhat x-ray-like into the crypt.

1 minute 40 second read.

Friday morning, 20 March 2015.

My Bee Lariat in La Crosse (arm and hand mobility)

Dream # 17,623-03.



Introductory knowledge:

Statue precursor: Augustus Ceaser. Statue precursors have occurred in all sleep cycles for over 50 years and correspond with my status of REM atonia (paralysis while sleeping throughout every dream each sleep cycle in healthy people). They do not typically remain in my dream’s narrative after they present but sometimes define the type of mobility that occurs. For example, the Augustus Ceaser statue’s position implies defining an invisible lariat as in my dream’s outcome. A person might also misperceive it as a man with a bedsheet wrapped around his waist, confirming an additional lucidness factor of being undressed while sleeping.

The lucidness factors include vestibular-motor phasing with practicing hand and arm mobility and recognition of imagination while undressed in sleep. Spinning or attempting to spin something is a natural dynamic of vestibular-motor phasing. These attributes are neither “non-lucid” dreaming nor “lucid dreaming,” both misnomers.

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Dream narrative:

I am in the Loomis Street house’s backyard, where Marilyn is also present at one point. The setting’s essence implies an hour before sunrise.

The backyard is full of plants of minimal height. They are yellow carnations or marigolds. I am eventually aware of a swarm of bees attracted to them. At first, I consider they might sting Marilyn and me, but my concern becomes minimal.

I believe I can control air currents. I raise my right arm and hold up my index finger (pointing upward), rotating it in a counterclockwise circular pattern as if defining an invisible lariat. The bees gather into a rotating torus above me, turning counterclockwise. Any bee still on a flower is forced into this pattern.

I contemplate how bees that produce honey benefit people, so I allow some bees to navigate individual air currents to gather nectar. (This standpoint may not have been the case if the flowers had not been yellow.)

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Virtual amnesia results in my dream self not recalling that I have not lived in America since February 1994 or that Marilyn died in 2014.

Failure to think and contrived convenience for vestibular-motor phasing: My dream self does not rationalize that we could go into the house to avoid the bees.

Compartmentalized lucidness factors, virtual amnesia, and the failure to feasibly think are all caused by responding to dream state dynamics as a result of REM sleep, revealing there is no such thing as “dream interpretation” when correctly recognizing and understanding causality.

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