Blue_Opossum

Morning of March 18, 2015. Wednesday.



My wife’s mother comes to our house and it seems her youngest half-sister is also here with her (likely being the one who drove her here in her car). Of course, we do not open the door or respond at first. There are a few different points where the door is not rendered correctly and has a wider gap at the bottom. This gap is big enough to see a person’s face when they have the side of their head pressed against the floor on the other side of the door, which is what happens at least twice in my dream. My wife’s youngest half-sister seems so much older and mean-looking that I first mistake her for her mother. Her features and expression are disturbing, though my mood and energy level does not make this a nightmare.

At one point, her mother puts something under the door. At first, it seems to be a greeting card or letters, but the view changes to seeing at least three paintbrushes. There is an awareness that the paintbrushes should not be placed in the mouth or tasted or even touched at all because of who they had belonged to. (This may come from a very old memory of possibly an episode of “Dragnet” or another crime show where a painter implied to be on drugs puts the paintbrush in his mouth as if to suck the paint off - for some reason, this scene stuck in my memory as a child).

Eventually, I end up yelling at them through the closed door but it is not as intense as it could be. Meanwhile, my wife is talking casually to the police on the telephone, though we do not have a restraining order against her mother or youngest half-sister though I mention getting one. (It would not matter anyway, as restraining orders in this town mean nothing, as my wife’s sister had one against the mother in reality - and it proved to be useless.)

Morning of March 17, 2015. Tuesday.



There is a big ritualistic Christmas celebration that is mostly being held in a very large old building (somewhat like a composite of church and theater), and it is apparently near Christmas in my dream. I am there with my family, but things change over time. In order to be a part of it, one must wear a Santa outfit, though that seems more like willful participation rather than a rule. I am aware that my youngest son’s Santa outfit has possibly been mistakenly taken by someone. I cannot find mine, either. However, I do believe his is found and worn but I do not find mine. It seems mine may have been deliberately taken by a younger female who is part of a smaller group of about six disruptive people. There are some arguments and an attempt to find my suit and to catch one of them with it but I become so annoyed that I decide to leave the celebration. However, when I first try to leave the building I end up going to corners and walls that have no doors. One area is mostly of over-sized and seemingly very old concrete blocks, both floor and walls, and I do not see an exit anywhere. I walk past a parade to another area of the building, but I try to stay out of the group due to not having a Santa suit.

Eventually, there is a front door (which seems more like that of a house to the left of a large window that looks like part of a small store) that a young Japanese male apparently helps me find. He says something to me about the celebration but an older male near the door starts mocking the way he is speaking and pretends to speak Japanese (this was done to me throughout my childhood even though I have no Asian ancestry - taught me a lot about the “intelligence” of mainstream society). "This is the way they always are,“ I say, "they will never change.” We then start walking west down the sidewalk towards my older sister Marilyn’s house as once again, I am not aware of where I presently live in real life. However, I begin to realize that both Marilyn and Carol had died but I then contemplate the King Street boarding house. I believe my mother is still alive even though she had died in reality long before two of my older sisters (recurring in-dream false memory).

I decide that the boarding house is probably not a good place to go (even though I seem to “remember” that I live there or have some belongings there) and instead, find myself entering a very large hotel from a side entrance. I walk up the steps to the second floor and am on my own at that point. I go into a large room just off a large hall, which seems like the place I will be living at least for a time. There are several other people around, some formally dressed in business suits, but I am guessing they will eventually leave when I decide to sleep. A man, possibly the hotel manager, comes over to collect the fee, which is two hundred dollars for four days. I see four Australian fifty dollar bills in my wallet (even though I am apparently in America) and give it all to the man, figuring I have enough time to work out where I will go from here. (For some reason though, the last fifty is only good for half a day.)

I decide to sit down on a comfortable-looking armchair (another unknown male is sitting in a very similar armchair off to my left) but I fall through the cushion and notice that the armchair is broken in a few places (though there are some random hardcover books and notebooks stacked within the chair’s frame and on the floor that were partly holding up the cushion at chair seat level - I am not sure if they are mine). Having fallen to the floor, remaining seated, I then notice that the carpet is incredibly dirty and torn in some areas and notice other details that seem to indicate that the room has never been cleaned or anything repaired. I watch a cat walking away from where I am, seeing on its back a couple extremely large fleas, at least one large louse, and a couple ticks, all nearly an inch long and bulging from their feeding; somewhat teardrop-shaped. I do not consider the unrealistic nature of the scene. From here, my dream eventually fades, but I soon realize that paying only fifty dollars a day for lodging, I cannot expect anything decent.

Morning of March 17, 2015. Tuesday.



I am a teenager again and it is probably the year 1976. It seems to be very early in the morning prior to sunrise. I am aware that a gypsy man is walking south down Highway Seventeen on the opposite side from my house in Cubitis (rendered fairly accurately in-dream, which is atypical). He is apparently hitchhiking when possible. He has his young daughter with him who happens to be my wife-to-be in the distant future though I am not directly focused on that reality. When he stops in front of the S family house, he decides to leave her at my house so that my parents can look after her until he has enough money to establish a better situation though he seems sad at having to do this. (There is no association with her mother at all.) I am not sure when he plans to return.

A semi-trailer truck stops to pick him up. The girl stands near me on the carport as the truck continues southward. My parents do not actually make an appearance at any point. Curiously, I am not that surprised by this “alternate timeline” in afterthought. A huge amount of evidence, especially including an identical drawing after that of a female classmate’s (too much detail to be by chance) as well as other drawings, poetry, and stories, and uncanny parallels to my own life, has convinced me that my wife had been remote viewing my life since her birth long before we made actual direct contact (and after we made contact, continuous unexplainable events unfolded day to day to the point where some people became angry - though my mother’s belief system on the nature of reality changed completely though in her case she was happy about it). Of course, that is only a small part of it as the girl in this dream is indeed the same one who appeared in my dreams in the actual 1970s and early photographs of my wife had confirmed this.

Morning of March 16, 2015. Monday.



I am viewing everything from a disembodied perspective and appear to be in Earth’s orbit. I notice at least one satellite fairly close to my implied position. After a short time, a simply framed photograph of my wife and me with happy expressions and from just below the shoulders up, the picture possibly a few feet tall, floats out from near the satellite (and closer to my view) and appears to have something to do with the satellite’s function or intent (though I am not certain if it broke off from the satellite or was found by the satellite). I get a vague impression that the picture may have moved just out of range of the satellite and needs to be in a particular area, but there is no negative association or concern of any kind. Thin lightning or electricity comes upward from near the satellite or possibly from the satellite.

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This dream may be based on associations with The Phantom Zone (as seen in “Superman” from 1978) in terms of imagery, though again, there are no negative implications or associations and the concept is quite different from my dream. My dream implies only a slowly rotating photograph (that moves outward from Earth’s atmosphere) with positive associations and pleasant imagery, whereas The Phantom Zone implies actual trapped people.

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I have supplemented this dream’s details as concluding with return flight waking symbolism, as my viewpoint is towards Earth despite the photograph apparently moving out into outer space towards me. Additionally, the lightning or electricity symbolizes increasing neural activity that signifies the waking transition.

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Morning of March 15, 2015. Sunday.



Although I feel somewhat as I do in reality with regard to some aspects of my dream journalism, I seem to be living back in the small squarish room on Loomis Street. There is a desk and large typewriter set up in the southeast corner. I am not quite sure of the dynamics of my living arrangement although I am at least somewhat aware of my present real-life status, including my wife and family, but am not lucid in any way. There is also no association with my relatives or older sister whose house it actually is in reality. The manual typewriter is about three times as high as the portable manual one I used to use in reality (mostly in Florida) and is a much older model; probably an Underwood from the 1920s.

I am aware of writing out at least three dreams in the typed summary format I used to do on plain white paper back when around ages eleven to seventeen (in addition to the far more detailed handwritten entries where I actually fit four lines of printed writing between two lines of notebook paper as well as usage of the additional miniature black binder for the index). (However, also in reality, there was a point where my mother had bought me a very large gold-colored box of expensive white paper which also featured a large watermark on each sheet, which seemed a bit odd to me, as it was just slightly too noticeable - almost like undesirable oil marks, thus I preferred the cheaper paper, though still used the other.)

As I am working and organizing a few things, an unknown younger female (about twenty) is in the room. I have no idea who she is or where she came from. She is dressed in old-fashioned clothes. She goes to my typewriter and takes all the blank paper I have left from the box. I complain about this but she eventually leaves the room, and heads out the back door. The stack of paper she takes is about an inch or more high.

When I go outside (in what would otherwise be the residential backyard on Loomis Street) it seems to suddenly be in the 1800s and it seems to be a farming community for the most part, though some generic wooden buildings flow off to my right to the horizon (like something out of “Gunsmoke”). I find myself calling the female insane (mostly only after the people do not respond to my reporting her as stealing from me) and that something has to be done. No one else believes she is a thief or has any issues even though it is clear that she does. I tell an older (unknown) male that the responsibility falls on him whenever she gets up to more mischief (there is a vague association with Salem possibly regarding the late 1600s though that is not very defined). They seem to not know what I am talking about at all yet I still rant on and on until I wake up. I do not know where the “paper thief” went; I only see different people at this point, mostly on the right of my perspective with the male I am yelling at to my left. Curiously, the idea that I have apparently traveled back in time does not even dawn on me in-dream at the time.

Morning of March 15, 2015. Sunday.

Dream #: 17,618-02. Reading time: 1 min 12 sec.



My family and I (as we appear now) are living in the Clayfield apartment, though there are no other buildings around (as in reality), only a big featureless field. It seems to be late afternoon. I watch a small airplane flying overhead, viewing it from the window of our main bedroom. Zsuzsanna and our children are not around at this time.

As an unknown female of about twenty years of age is walking westerly across the field in the opposite direction of our apartment, a Cessna nosedives, crashing behind her, though there is not much noise. Although it had not hit her, she is seen lying on the ground needing to be pulled away from the area by an older unknown male. I do not perceive that she is physically injured, she only has mild shock. The crashed Cessna remains in a diagonal position, with several small pieces on each side of it.

I suddenly find myself in the area of the event when I had only been watching it from a distance from our bedroom window. An unfamiliar man asks me about it. There are a few unknown people present. There is no mention of the pilot, but I am not aware of one being present, alive or dead. I absentmindedly claim that the airplane stalled because he was flying it straight up. (I say this about four times to different people.) I describe how the same accident had recently occurred three times, involving Cessnas with identical appearances. However, I do not recall seeing any previous event like this.

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This dream is a typical projected vestibular system correlation event, one of the most common waking processes, usually unrelated to waking life. It is an association with resolving the imaginary physicality of the dream state. The process often renders falling, flying, and rising events.

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Morning of March 15, 2015. Sunday.



In my dream, my family and I seem to be living where we are now on W Street though the house seems connected to the neighbor’s house as if part of some sort of large apartment complex and at least some of the layout (such as the kitchen) is rotated perpendicularly in the direction of the other house (though our bathroom is rotated one-hundred-eighty degrees around so that it is on the east end of our residence). There is a large but shared lobby towards the north rather than a porch of any kind. Our entrance faces north; the neighbor’s entrance faces west. (This layout somewhat mimics the porch in reality, as our main door faces north and the computer room has an external door that faces west onto our porch. The in-dream lobby however is at least five times the size of the real porch.)

My dream’s setting is later at night. I hear some noise outside and when I look out the window, I see two large flatbed trucks and a car, all of which are faced north and parked on our side of the street, the car being the first vehicle in the row. The two flatbeds are stacked with at least four levels of wooden chairs (and nothing else), though quite randomly at various scattered angles. The car also has chairs randomly strewn inside the back.

Later, I hear hammering coming from the other apartment. At one point I look out into the fictional lobby and see an older male and female, who have a large dog, carrying a couple chairs into their place. Apparently, every single chair has to be hammered upon here and there to fix it up for their new home. I mention that they are okay in doing this as my wife and I had been listening to hammering on and off for over fifty-two weeks. There is a bit of sarcasm in my voice which I do not think they catch. Being that we only share the empty lobby with the new neighbors, this dream is atypical of similar shared dwelling dreams where there is more integration and consequently more annoyances.

Later, my wife is in the bathtub and I think she is annoyed by the new neighbor situation. (In reality, the number of wooden chairs that were in the vehicles would not even have fit in the small house next door.) During the last part of my dream, I hug each member of my family for quite some time and feel a strong sense of love and hope. The positive energy dominates the rest of my dream.

Hugging, and its extraordinarily realistic feel of weight and pressure and enhanced sense of touch in general (including a sincere sense of compassion and respect), has occurred in my dreams since earliest memory.

Morning of March 14, 2015. Saturday.



My dream starts out seemingly in the house in Wavell Heights. However, my oldest son is there as he appears now. At one point, there is something about loosely squinting a certain way at a television or computer monitor and somehow altering the appearance of the imagery on the screen including for anyone else who is also looking at it. It is a nonsensical concept but seemingly works in my dream. At one point, I look at a few rows of writing on the screen and it all comes together in a brighter white block. Other members of my family notice other changes on the screen as I use this supposed natural ability.

I look through a large colorful magazine which seems dynamic, with small animations on some of the pages. It includes information about various computer games as well as possibly ordinary board games. There is something about a maze-like game or long-term quest with spirals; the spirals seem infinite yet still part of some sort of goal regarding the completion of at least some of them. As I look at the image on the upper-left of the page, an animated demonstration shows new spiral-like paths appearing between others. I do not question how images could be moving on the page of an otherwise normal magazine.

Later, I look out the window. I am aware that there is some sort of attack that is beginning that involves modern jets bombing areas nearby (though I vaguely think of Pearl Harbor). However, this does not bother me at all (especially as the jets fly by far below and do not seem capable of flying anywhere near the height of where my apartment is) as I get the impression they will only bomb industrial areas and not near any residential areas. Apparently, I am in a very high building and I am looking down across a vast cityscape far below and beyond. It looks very unrealistic, almost like looking at a fairly flat model of a large urban area from an unlikely perspective. Because this seems “off” somehow, I decide to lean out the window as far as I can to see where I am. I look down and it seems I am at the top of an impossibly tall skyscraper as I manage to see parts of the outer walls that seemingly go several miles down to the ground. This skyscraper is so high, it is almost as if my view is from an airplane that is flying extremely high in the atmosphere. No other buildings are even close to the height of the building I am in, again, to where the rendering seems quite artificial. However, it still feels as if I am high above the landscape and the area below seems only vaguely like a miniature.

In the distance and far below I see shipyards (and the ocean beyond) and various industrial areas. In some parts, the area looks quite flat though there are fence-like structures in some sections, and there are roads that unrealistically zigzag a bit. Parts of the layout are almost abstract yet mostly uniform overall. I feel very vivid yet do not attain lucidity regardless of the unrealistic nature of the regions below and beyond. There are even some areas that seem somewhat misty or incomplete.

Morning of March 14, 2015. Saturday.



My dream is quite vivid but not lucid in any way. It is mostly like a typical intruder dream but not as annoying as usual and with at least one unusual feature. There is some sort of celebration taking place later at night near our home (where we presently live) out on the street. However, I do not see that many people. I see an unknown male and female (in blue jeans) sitting on the curb in front of our house and am aware of a few others who have strayed into a neighbor’s front yard.

When I am in the front room (where my computer desk is), it is semi-dark, though I notice a male standing near the window looking out. He says he does not know how he got there and may be dazed from alcohol or drugs. His appearance in our house seems unexplainable, as if he somehow just walked through the outer wall (though he is not ghostlike). It seems he is undressed though he also appears like a younger, chubbier version of The Vulture (from Marvel Comics) and seems about thirty and with all his hair. However, the wreath-like area over his shoulders seems more like fur than feathers at one point. He is vaguely reminiscent of a Doctor-Seuss-like character though realistically human-like. He is not threatening in any way and again, seems somewhat confused and very passive. I help him find his way out of our house, though the porch seems to be more like the one on Loomis Street than our present one. There is a lot of clarity watching the few people outside later, from the correct layout of the front room, but there is no drama.

This is the second dream recently, where another dream character appeared in a room as if having walked through an outer wall. There are often shared events or features between two or more dreams that are otherwise unrelated.

It is possible that the “vulture man” may be meant to be a much more human-like version of The Cowardly Lion, though this is only an afterthought.

This dream was visually precognitive in that a character from “The Lorax” (2012 version) I saw tonight was very reminiscent of the character in my dream on some levels (especially in distorted appearance). I had no idea that I would be watching that movie tonight and had not known much about it anyway (and the first image above was not changed after realizing the precognitive connection). This sort of dream-related experience is extremely common for me and there is always a sense of “knowing” (or contact with the Source) I cannot quite describe even though such events are very impersonal and trivial and seemingly pointless in many cases.

Morning of March 13, 2015. Friday.



The first part of my dream seems very impersonal and unrelated to what seems the second part of my dream (though there could have been a very short break between them).

It seems that I am seeing it all on a television. There is some sort of Cajun rally involving politics and a national news team, it seems. One male is apparently running for mayor (in Louisiana, possibly New Orleans) or possibly a higher office (it is an unknown male, nothing like Mitch Landrieu). He and the reporter to his left (my right as I am viewing the broadcast) seem quite different in presence and focus. In fact, the politician generates a very strong and unusual persona that reflects pure superstition rather than any sense of political premise. He makes a claim that if he does not win the election, all of the spirits of the dead will rise and destroy everything. The male reporter seems only mildly puzzled by these statements by his facial expressions, as if he only mildly doubts the politician’s sanity, but does not say anything about not believing it. In fact, it does seem unlikely that the politician will lose the election, but that is not related to what he is threatening. The idea that he may actually believe what he is saying does not seem that unusual to me though I am aware that it is nonsense and the politician is possibly insane or at least empty-headed.

From here, there is a break into a completely different scene. I am hearing my own voice speaking the same phrase over and over - a phrase that is not relevant to any prior affirmation or scripting of any kind. I am standing fully in-body and am aware that I am deliberately saying it with a sense of meaning and certainty, even feeling the motions of my mouth.

“You project it and you receive it.”

I keep saying this until I decide to ask my wife (who is lying in bed at first but somehow the couch in the front room immediately after) if she needs a doctor, because she seems to be having pain or discomfort in her lower abdomen almost as if she is ready to give birth (she is okay in reality). It is intense prior to waking, so much so, I am almost aware of at least the apparent pressure within her lower body having an effect on my perception and physical status as if it is acting as a wave that moves through the environment. The persistence and clarity at which I am saying this is somewhat atypical of this dream type. (I stop saying the phrase when she appears more in distress after seemingly teleporting to the sofa - I am standing near the telephone at the time).

Morning of March 10, 2015. Tuesday.



There was not much to this dream. I am apparently aboard a small submarine in a fleet of about six. There is another fleet of an equal number of enemy submarines, which are several times bigger than ours. I am also watching the scene from above at times and as if on a large monitor. At the same time there is also a vague awareness of bilocation in the Cubitis living room (but as an additional implied underwater location yet somewhat ambiguous, likely with the submarines scaled down to model size) with the enemy subs heading south and ours heading north. It is interesting how bilocation factors still commonly use my childhood home where I have not been in real life since 1978.

Two submarines at a time, small and large, face each other (they are about two larger submarines apart in distance) and fire torpedoes. On the monitor, the torpedoes appear as white stars. Each moves toward the other at the same speed and each submarine is destroyed at the same time. Even though this does not seem to make much sense in afterthought, it seems like the perfect strategy. The scene repeats with all of the submarines except for the one I am supposedly on. (Only briefly do I question why none of the submarines attempted to move from the paths of the torpedoes, although there is the idea that the smaller ones only fired a torpedo because the larger ones did, to make sure the enemy was destroyed, but it also seems like each had time to move out of the way.)

Morning of March 9, 2015. Monday.



Near the beginning of my dream, an unknown male is showing my two youngest sons a computer keyboard. It changes from looking like it has about half the letters of the alphabet distributed over keys that are about twice as big as normal to seemingly only having about six large flat keys over the entire keyboard (which is also flatter and somewhat larger than normal). At this point, it seems like a keyboard for a very old computer of at least twenty years ago (though that is an unreasonable assumption as the early Commodore 64s had much fatter keyboards, not thinner). After a short time, I ask him if it is a tic tac toe game. This is seemingly meant to be somewhat sarcastic on my part or at least humorous as there are only enough keys for an “X” and an “O” and usage of the four cursor directions. It seems unusual to have a large piece of technology which requires a monitor and likely the computer desktop itself just to play tic tac toe. I do not get a reply to my question.

Later, I am aware that there may be a bad storm approaching and am concerned about my wife not being back from the store. I decide to check the weather reports on my computer and the keyboard starts to buzz oddly and a small flame shoots out from the upper left corner. Eventually the escape key becomes loose and I see that it has wires attached to it which are shorting out. Somehow, the area under the escape key is wired in a manner that is directly connected to the power supply for the computer. Because at least one wire is broken the computer will not stay on and the buzzing and sparking on that corner of the keyboard continues until nothing works at all. I get very annoyed though my dream decays after this part. Rather than the computer monitor having a realistic display, it looks more like horizontal bars and snow from an analogue television experiencing a weak distorted signal or interference from a storm.

Because it is the escape key, there is probably a play on escape. Instead of there being a storm in reality it is once again unbearably warm - thus there is likely a play on “escaping” from this town or climate. It seems to suggest that the escape must be implemented to keep healthy as in my dream, the computer seems to have to be turned on or rebooted by pressing the [ Esc ] key.

Morning of March 8, 2015. Sunday.

Dream #: 17,611-02. Reading time (optimized): 3 min.



My dream’s setting is at least a three-way composite of known locations. It seems to be morning. Zsuzsanna and I reside in an anchor-shaped building. Drama starts as I notice, to my left, water spraying from a hidden area of the wall into the kitchen sink, some going over the counter and floor. The kitchen seems to represent an anchor fluke while we in the living room are in the crown area, and a hallway representing the shank branches off in front of us. On my right is a bay-window-like area that represents one of the anchor’s arms. I go over to see what is going on. A young white male is somehow spraying water from his window (outer wall of the “shank”) and through our kitchen window (“fluke” area). The intrusion angers me.

From here, I see that he lives with or is visiting three unfamiliar girls. The room is the first to the left off the hallway. I pull him out and into the living room. I look through a large dresser to find my two guns and notice various unusual devices and parts of many different things filling all the drawers. I eventually find both (though unrealistic and skeletal). I hold them near his head, but I do not hurt him. I fire one in another direction, but a little yellow disc comes out to cause a minor explosion on the floor. I want to scare him so that he never returns. Later, he says that he was harassing us because he does not like how we smell and claims the building and grounds has our unpleasant scent. He also blames a plumbing problem on our cat even though it is a sewer problem from the street.

As I sit by the bay window area, I look out into the yard to see an old lady feeding kittens near some hedges. It is hot, so my shirt is open. I hear her say something to someone else whom I do not see that my presence by the window is not intrusive. She is soon somehow in the living room (though there are no doors) talking about the building and the owner (whose apartment is left off another part of the hall). The owner is also an old lady who soon comes out. She explains new rules, including how no one will be allowed to leave the house after six pm, even to shop. Even buying food after that time might result in eviction. I am annoyed and slowly realize we had unknowingly rented an apartment in a boarding house or halfway house. I argue with the two ladies, but I do not threaten them.

My dream changes to nighttime. I am so annoyed by having to live in the building I decide to jump into the cold turbulent waters off a rocky shore. It extends from a hotel where the bay-window-like area had been. It seems I walk about half a block to get here through a long hall. The incline of the rocky shore is about thirty degrees. I feel good at this point, and my dream is still vivid. Zsuzsanna had been following me out of concern. I throw myself in but now more as a gesture of enjoyment of the icy water. Zsuzsanna attempts to save me from drowning (though I am not in peril), but I soon need to go out farther to save her. From here, there is bliss and closeness as when we first got together in experiencing the unexplained “same skin” perspective in real life. (That is, when I touched a part of her, I could feel it on me as if I was “in” both bodies at once). There is a vague awareness of “My Love, We Are One” from “Orca” (1977).

Other people are now sitting or lying on the rocky shore as if on a beach. I have taken out an Australian twenty-dollar bill. I wave it, and it changes into five or six twenty-dollar bills and at least two hundred-dollar bills. A young man looks on with amazement. I continue to move the notes around as more appear out of nowhere until I have thousands of dollars. (Some of the money is now in piles on the big damp rocks.) My dream begins to fade. I notice that the money only has detail on one side; almost always the case. It probably represents the absence of conscious identity (or viable awareness of the real environment) while in the dream state.

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Morning of March 5, 2015. Thursday.



Johnny Cash sings in the background, sounding somewhat distant yet somehow close at the same time, like an old anachronistic Buick with a loudspeaker atop following me from perhaps a block away. “I ride an old paint, I lead an old Dan, I’m off to Montan’ for to throw the hooley-ann.” The voice is somewhat familiar in a different way, somewhat melancholy, the nature of the “reality” of this deserted 1800s half-defined world. Not much to look at but a pale brick wall in the late evening, a wall that flows past me as I ride a weird clay-like bay roan horse into an eerily empty town. Or so it seems. There are only a few men in the streets of the town, as it is so late at night. Is this Laredo? “I spied a young cowboy all wrapped in white linen, wrapped in white linen as cold as the clay…” (As cold as a clay horse?)

However, without explanation, without a backstory, without even a false memory to build a nonsensical foundation to explain my location and direction, I find myself riding Pokey into an old western town. My clay horse will not behave. His mouth grows and “roars” like the “roaring worm” from “Eraserhead”. Johnny Cash’s singing remains a statement of fact in the background. These cowboys cannot live here. My horse will swallow them.

Eraserhorse will eat everyone eventually, and I cannot do much to stop him.

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This dream utilizes coalescence waking symbolism, a type of waking symbolism where the dream self or other dream features are rendered as being metaphorically “swallowed” into waking consciousness.

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I confess that I was never a fan of “Gumby” and went out of my way to avoid it whenever I could, even as a child. I found it over-the-top irritating. It was like a trend in society to force children to watch certain things as a form of punishment - and many forms of “entertainment” still seem as such.

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Morning of March 4, 2015. Wednesday.



I am seemingly in two different places over time, neither very familiar. One area seems to represent a small island. The other area represents a mostly unpopulated rural area. There are two occasions where there is a circle of fire which grows a bit bigger, but also seems to travel at times (while remaining a smaller circle). Somehow the fire is made up of six smaller fires, or rather “fire animals”. There are two wolves, two eagles, and two opossums. I am vaguely aware that the presence may be some sort of spiritual gift, but realistically, it is possibly from just being too warm during sleep. There is, however, a sense of balance and vindication.