Blue_Opossum

Morning of January 20, 2015. Tuesday.



Most of my dreams had a positive focus regardless of the “leaky roof” theme in a couple of them. It had been thundering and raining off and on all morning and that put me into a very deeply relaxed “timeless” state. In one dream, I am simply watching the rain come down between the planks of the wooden ceiling, which is leaking profusely. My wife is with me. The only negative aspect was of telling some unknown people (and I am not sure why they are even in our house - oddly I have no typical perspective that they are not supposed to be there) that they do not know how to build houses in this region, especially roofs.

At one point, I am living in an unfamiliar region that is more of a rural area which has hardly any houses. I seem to be spending a lot of time sleeping on the roof of a shed which is probably not mine. It had been raining for a long time yet this actually seems to be a comfortable and nice setup for me. I also, though, get the impression of it being an odd habit (that no one else has) that I have had for at least a year or two. Someone, a male who is possibly the owner of the property, points out to me that the front part of the roof of the shed is lower than the rest of the roof and even has a partial recess in the shape made by me lying on my back on it over time (which of course is preposterous in a cartoon-like sense). I feel only the vaguest sense of being responsible for the roof needing repair at a later date. Oddly, sleeping on the roof in the rain seems to be the “proper” way to live. However, it is something I have not done in real life since age seventeen.

During the morning, I entered an altered state that seemed somewhat new. I have always had a tendency to enter unusual “cocoon-like” states (sometimes pleasant, sometimes frustrating) that seem to last for days (but of course are actually probably only about an hour or so) and they are always different in one way or another. These unique states often seem to have their own “rules” or “systems” that keep repeating over time and with precise contemplation (though which is distorted and only simulating false critical thinking).

In this case, I am feeling the mild thunder in my body as if I was being “made” by the thunder simultaneously, relative to both my physical position and my enhanced sense of peace that is near ecstatic. The “system” seems to have precise rules of timing and subtle change relative to the sparse rain and next thunder event. It seems this state, as well as the mildly rumbling thunder, will continue forever and I will remain forever (a perception which does not bother me at all) in a “field” of awareness created by the infinitely recurring thunder and light off and on rain, and with only occasional very slight movement on my part. This is a bit different than similar states where I “have” to move into a precise physical position every couple of minutes while sleeping (always switching to either left or right sides each time) so as to form a particular shape to hold for a certain amount of time (as if it is some sort of language or form of communication with an unknown entity), also as if it was sometimes some sort of system required by a physical “law”. There is often also a persistent false memory related to the dynamics of an individual “system” of physical positions or supposedly related environment ambiance while sleeping, again, usually different than any prior experience, sometimes involving mentally calculating waveforms or abstract forms.

Morning of January 20, 2015. Tuesday.



As my dream begins, I seem to be sitting on a bed (aligned along the west wall) in my father’s music room in Cubitis as it was around 1975. I have four cassette tapes. Two of them are in cases with seemingly commercial labeling and two seem created by an amateur outfit with store-bought blanks. Apparently, I am involved in my own dub recordings using these four cassette tapes as some sort of background audio.

Two of the cassette tapes have something to do with Captain Kirk (of “Star Trek”) though I am not certain if it is music, talking (such as interviews with the cast), the reading of a “Star Trek” novel, or sound effects from the show, or perhaps a random bit of everything. These two tapes have a cover with the same picture of a very young William Shatner as Kirk (sitting at a table with his hands clasped), with different label coloring on each as if part of a set or series. The other two tapes, or at least one of them, is an amateur fan fiction tape which also contains other things such as unusual sections of music and possibly a couple interviews or even unrelated random talking from a radio (or even just the static at times). I am not sure if the tapes are ninety minutes or an hour each, or perhaps much shorter, though I do eventually maintain the overall impression that they each are at least an hour long or half-hour per side.

Unlike many dreams of this nature, the tapes are not eaten by the cassette player and no other mechanical problems ensue. What I hear is actually not very unusual. It seems I do listen to the entire side of one cassette, at least, by which the last section is a shorter pad-like sound with dull and lower frequency dynamics. I hear it very clearly in-dream. Prior to this was two males talking in some sort of (possibly political) interview and there was also a speech by a male “Star Trek” fan and his work in an amateur “Star Trek” movie where he plays Captain Kirk. However, much of it seems like non-rhythmic electronic music and other sounds, including sound effects from the original “Star Trek” series. I am thinking on how I have yet to “filter” and compress the entire length of audio of that side of the tape and then add my own music over the top of it - by which it will then all sound completely different. I get the impression the first step will give the tapes a much better “silky” dynamic (with no tape noise or hiss whatsoever), but I am not thinking about low quality MP3s - which often have an overly silky sound as well as an irritating chorus-like funnel effect on high-hats and higher frequencies in general. It seems my “album” will only be on cassette tapes and oddly, I have no clearer memory of my work in digital audio at all.

Part of this is likely based on real-life memories of my father having bought “blank” cassette tapes at flea markets which had a variety of people already having recorded various random things on them, including cussing soliloquies and various incomplete radio “experiments”, with someone continuously changing the stations as they were recording.

Morning of January 19, 2015. Monday.



This is another typical King Street boarding house dream, with nothing relevant to my character or present life. It is a dream I could have had thirty years ago and not known the difference in waking up then or now. Still, I document everything for long-term study (as always, since early childhood) regardless of the type that seems like residual “what if” dregs from the 1980s.

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I make my way to King Street. A male I knew at that time, Don K, is walking with me at one point, carrying a couple full bottles of wine. We end up going into the house through the main front entrance and the landlord and landlady (though started by the landlord), both deceased in reality, go into a bizarre rhythmic “mantra” (with the accented phrasing in the opposite areas as would otherwise seem normal). It seems like some sort of insult to anyone that goes into their house, including a relevance to their desire to be alone. The “song” is one of the oddest things I have heard in a long time.

Don and I end up in the pinhead’s (Leonard S) old room at the southern end of the house. The room is mostly empty. We then drink from different wine bottles. I notice that my bottle, in addition to containing red wine, is also thick with dry powder that does not fully blend with the wine and is apparently crushed sleeping pills. Still, I drink parts of it in small amounts, not really wanting the full effect of either. In reality, I had never taken any form of medication of this kind and rarely ever drank. I attempt to stir it but there is so much powder, the fluid nature of the wine is minimal and nearly too viscous to flow naturally from the bottle. I take about five drinks over time. We are seemingly going to go to Third Street and perhaps meet with others but my dream fades.

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What is interesting is that in the past, I was often within dreams of the future, including those involving the “mystery girl”. Now that I actually “live the dream” so to speak, I often mentally travel to mundane facets of the past (with alternate histories and even no-longer necessary “rehearsals”), almost as if it is some sort of “balancing” function to remind me of the human aspects and encounters of my otherwise legend-like path.

Don was actually the one to inform me of the King Street house availability (while we both worked at the same factory), which was my first unshared apartment in real life at seventeen. It is interesting in that Don was also the worst possible reference I could have had, yet once the owners learned that I was not at all like Don, they let me rent the apartment. Ironically, he was evicted from his apartment shortly after I moved into mine, for drunkenness and leaving broken glass on the lawn.

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Morning of January 18, 2015. Sunday.



Of the thousands of variations that have been rendered in my dreams of my Cubitis home since 1968, along comes a completely different one after over thirty years of last having been there. This one is a little more diverse than usual. I do not believe this is due to long-term memory distortion either, because there were alterations of the house in my dreams when I was living there (and indeed, as there have been with all places I have lived). This is also another “extra window” dream as with a recent dream about my present home. My dream is very vivid (fully in-body), though I am not lucid at any point.

My dream seemingly takes place late at night. My wife Zsuzsanna is with me (though she has never been to America). My computer setup in real life is somewhat similar to how it is set up in my bedroom in my dream, with the monitor facing the windows directly behind me (in my dream, north). At one point, I turn around to look out the jalousie windows. There seems to be at least one additional (fictional) large window, immediately to the left of the door to the carport.

This variation is unusual in that it seems to be the first time the house has been directly rendered in the middle of a seemingly large city (though there were many early precognitive dreams concerning the new highway and such at the back of our property). There is even a well-maintained city street (and sidewalks) close to the house where the northern side yard (and the orange grove beyond) would otherwise be, running east and west. Also, the playground from my elementary school has replaced our large front yard though as if being another city block west of us. There is a shorter chain-link fence along that part of the sidewalk, the sidewalk of which replaces our long real-life driveway (the playground area being open in reality and which otherwise faced the rest of the school grounds). I do not know what would be in our backyard and easterly as we remain in our bedroom throughout my dream.

Two (unknown) teenage girls are walking from the west along the chain-link fence on our side of the street. Eventually, it is a group of four girls. There is also an older male and his wife or girlfriend walking from the same direction at one point, about ten feet ahead of the girls.

I decide to close all the windows for privacy in case my wife and I become more intimate. I close two windows (including the fictional one) without incident. However, when I go to close the outside door’s jalousie window, the handle wobbles (as a different one did in real life until I finally fixed it) and a glass pane falls out from near a lower row and smashes in our carport. This is an odd incident though, as there is an additional somewhat confusing and uncertain aspect to it by which I also somehow “feel” the weight and momentum of the event as it happens (an odd but vivid perception not possible in reality but which has occurred in dreams). At the same time I was closing our window, the older male, as he was walking easterly by with his partner (to the left of her), apparently threw a large (unknown) object into our carport (possibly something of ours that was in the carport - I get the vague impression of a golf club but we never had any in reality) so that it hit the window as I was closing it, which possibly is what caused the pane to come out. There is the idea that the male was also startled by the window breaking even though he was seemingly (possibly absentmindedly) vandalizing the place (even though he is about sixty and seems dressed neatly). I call out “hey” and the couple continues to walk out of view, but walking a little faster now.

I mention to my wife about how “they” broke our window, but by this point, the group of four girls (mostly all in blue jeans and singlets) is there just north of the carport (on the fictional sidewalk) who think I am accusing them. They all stop and look into the carport and through the jalousie window of the door. I notice that the area seems fairly built-up and see what may be stores and taller commercial buildings across the (fictional) street in the semidarkness. One of the girls talks about how it was not her or any of her friends who broke the window and she talks about the male who is no longer in the immediate area. I am aware of who did it, of course, but I do not coherently confirm this to them. They do not seem angry or even annoyed at any point, though. They continue to hang around and I guess they are worried about getting into trouble for something they did not do. However, I am still contemplating on whether the window coincidentally broke when something was thrown near the door and perhaps was not directly broken by the older male. As I wake, I am trying to gather my thoughts in a manner that I can tell them to go on their way and not worry about our broken window, without insulting them or giving them cause for them to believe I think they were vandalizing the house but for some reason, I cannot logically come up with how to communicate this at all as my dream fades.

Morning of January 17, 2015. Saturday.



I am not very focused in my dream but seem to have been watching a movie or series of shorter movies. One of them has a scene with my wife when she was much younger but the role is actually played by someone else - an unknown actress. In the scene, she meets with her best friend who is also played by someone else. There are other people around in the outdoor public area in the movie scene. I get the impression it is near a train station and in the afternoon though I am not sure of all the details. I am not sure of the name of the movie or of the overall plot though it is probably about Nimbin Australia in the late 1960s. I believe my family and I are watching the movie in our present home.

However (when my dream shifts at one point), once again, I find myself living back in the King Street boarding house where I had not lived since the 1980s. However, there is no in-dream prior association with any of my past apartments as my dream scene seemingly starts when I am at the top of the front stairs and looking downwards. Two men had been knocking on the downstairs front entrance, though oddly, I get the impression it is at the porch entrance (which has no doors) and so they remain on or near the outer steps or lawn (the porch layout is rendered incorrectly, the entrance being more centered instead of more to the left from the inside view - and in reality, it would be unlikely to hear someone knocking in that area). It is something to do with my wife’s friend having been run over by a truck - I am somehow already aware of this before I talk to them. I am not really sure what they want with me. It seems to be late morning at this point. There is some sort of strange three-tiered emotional perspective - the event having already just happened, being yet to happen, and happening at the time I am talking to the men (just behind them on the street - though I am not focused on anything that looks like an accident). I do not immediately recall having this particular level of perception in a dream before. It may be an influence from movies that have non-chronological sequences.

When I begin to talk with them, the one to the left shows me notes on smaller paper. I look at it and get the impression of a couple hand-printed paragraphs but he does not give me any time to actually read it even though his attitude is as such that I had somehow read it that quickly. The other male asks me questions on it as well but I mostly do not know how to respond. At any rate, I was not a witness to the event; at least I do not think I was (regarding my dream’s potential “back story”).

The person actually was struck by a vehicle (though lived) but that was a few years ago.

Night of January 17, 2015. Saturday.

Dream #: 17,561-03. Reading time: 55 sec. Readability score: 55.



I am in a calm, relaxed mood in our present home on W Street, but I realize something eerily dynamic is in the area near where I am resting. I see a horseless rocking horse “rocking” on the ceiling (in the same manner as if it were on the floor but upside-down) a short distance from one side of the room. (I also get the vague and barely discernible impression of a robotic spider.) It continues to rock in one spot only for a short time.

I get a vague impression that I should be “terrified of this nightmare” and yet I am only puzzled and then very mildly amused at the idea and weird imagery.

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This short dream is seemingly a continuation of residual energies from “Rocking Horse Epilogue” on the 16th. (I am feeling more myself again on the 26th after my dehydration experience.) It may be a representation of mortality as dismantling a baby cot (or cradle) represented death before my sister died. In addition to having precognitive dreams of her condition, I dreamt that she and her husband were dismantling a baby cot even though they never had children of their own. (The upside-down horseless rocking horse also resembles part of an arched gateway, including a section that looks like a ladder; other associations with mortality and organic or spiritual change as well as inherent dream state autosymbolism.)

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Morning of January 16, 2015. Friday.



In the first scene in my dream, I end up fishing near an isolated boathouse (east of where I am) for a short time, and I get the impression it is near the Black River in La Crosse (though I have not fished there in over twenty years). It is not really my intention to fish at first, and I am aware that I do not have a fishing license, but I discover that I have a fishing rod so I decide to try it to see if anything happens. There is already a larger treble hook on my line with no bait. Even though there is no bait, I lower the line close to the wharf into the murky water. I am hoping no one else shows up, especially if I catch a fish. After vividly (and accurately) feeling movement related to my line, I realize that the hook may become snagged on man-made debris or aquatic plants. Such is the case the first couple of times I feel tugs when reeling back in, but then there is an obvious weight pulling and moving the line for a time. At first I think it may be a large, perhaps even dangerous fish, but It turns out to only be a bluegill and I lift it up out of the water fairly quickly.

I am soon more clearly aware of being bilocated in the kitchen on Loomis Street and the specific area I had been fishing in is bilocated with the Loomis Street bathroom, near the bathtub, but in a very subtle “invisible” sense for the most part, other than the kitchen features being more in view at one point. I am mostly also still outside on a wharf fishing in the river. My wife walks into the kitchen aka wharf (more specifically - an ambiguous composite perspective of being indoors and outdoors at the same time but quite common in my dreams since earliest memory) and I say to her, “look at this” with the idea that I could catch more fish and - as I am already in the kitchen - could just clean them as I catch them for a meal later on. However, due to the ambiguity of the bilocated features, I decide to throw the fish back (even though I sense it will not live) in case a game warden shows up on the wharf.

After I pull the hook out of the fish’s gills (where it was mostly snagged) with very well-rendered aspects at this point (including sense of touch), and throw it back, my dream shifts into a completely different scenario…

It is related to a dark-haired male that had recently graduated from high school, though there are several other unknown people around. This is a fictional tulpa-like character and persona that I created (from scratch) in the 1980s, named Alan T. Another character, also tulpa-based, yet somewhat reminiscent of Christian Slater, is another relevant character. From here, my dream begins to make fun of the incomprehensibly stupid idea “your mind cannot create new people”. I find this interesting since it follows the other dream scene relative to a real-life event where a fabricated charge of fishing without a license was given when I was younger (the officer actually took my valid license to hide it in an attempt to make it look like I did not have one, but then decided to give it back when I mentioned my brother-in-law was the other male in the area - though his report had already been fabricated as such and appeared as such - “fishing without a license” - in court). I think this combined set of dream scenes (at least to this point) has to do with the fact that much of mainstream society has no credibility or validity in what they say or believe, especially certain forms of “let’s just randomly fill-in-the-blanks” authority. My real-life false arrest was mostly to meet a quota (I even heard them talking about this from another room at the time) - and is in complete contrast to naïve people who believe you have to do something wrong to be arrested or go to jail. I pleaded “no contest”, meaning “guilty” (relevant to time already served in this case - only because my brother-in-law was ready to go to the newspaper and expose them if I was not released) for a false charge based on a nonexistent event and fabricated report - and it is my strong belief (again, based on experience) that this probably happens all the time but no one really says or does anything.

In my dream, Alan seems concerned over why he cannot remember Eddie (the other tulpa). This is something to do with a wampum belt being similar to rosary beads in trying to recover lost memories. The scene “resets” and repeats at least once. I talk to the tulpa Alan, asking if his name is Alan, and he says yes. He seems suspicious of his own past and the idea of “fictional people” (even though I am not lucid or focused on the idea of dreaming of fictional characters). Eddie seems to find this all amusing and actually seems aware of my dream’s “reset” and repeat of meeting Alan, though Alan does not remember what had just happened minutes ago. Eventually, the scenario loses cohesion and the scene shifts completely again.

Kenny and Karen’s house in Florida is now in Wisconsin and about four houses south of my sister’s old home on Loomis Street. I look inside through the front door and note that Kenny and Karen are not living there. Instead, there are two unknown people; male and female. The unknown male is sitting on an armchair facing the open front door. An unknown girl rides by on a bicycle, heading south. I call out to her (“hey”) and mentally “demand” she joins me (though I do not know her name). She gets off her bicycle and approaches me but then soon goes into the house with the other unknown people. More new fictional people show up. An older very unusual-looking lady (too unusual to be a real human face but still perceived as such) hugs me. Her hips are too far apart to be those of a real human being and she is otherwise apparently skinny. Even though I am not lucid, a residual conscious thought is present for a short time and that is…the idea “your mind cannot create new people” is far more absurd every time you hear it, almost “snowballing” (exponentially) in its stupidity. This is especially true in that people’s features in dreams are sometimes completely unlike actual human beings (not quite “alien” in many cases, but too unusual to be linked to real human faces - like many other surreal aspects of dreams). My wife Zsuzsanna is eventually with me. I am soon with the rest of my family and the unknown people, of whom there are about a dozen or so standing near the road in some sort of outdoor neighborhood party, perhaps.

At this point, a large rocking horse appears in the street. This seems to be some sort of untimely catalyst of some kind. My dream shifts into its most unusual stage. I get on the rocking horse (being fully aware of my present age; an atypical perspective oddly enough) and sit comfortably as it speeds down the street (without wheels of any kind) while rocking very slowly at the same time. I enjoy the feeling of incredible horizontal speed as well as the simultaneous quite slow rocking back and forth. It is almost like a trip to my “final destination” (likely due to an extreme dehydration and hyperventilation event, due to me being stupid just a couple of days ago - when I thought that was “the end” for me and I almost collapsed in the street - coincidentally, my wife’s closest friend’s husband did collapse in the street elsewhere, though actually died). During this time, the sky above plays a loud and dramatic fictional instrumental version (like the Henry Mancini version but about twice as fast and with deeper, louder strings in the lead) of “Windmills of Your Mind”. (This song - the original version - always sounded “wrong” to me due to the slower speed relative to the contrast of its otherwise torrent-like melody, but I still came to like it. When I performed it on organ or accordion, I did play it much faster.)

I ride the rocking horse up and down the same street (turning back upon arriving at the Loomis and Gillette intersection each time) about six times.

I eventually stop and get off where I started from, and meet with my wife again, who is now a teenager. I notice that my clothes are uncomfortably filled with dusty heavy gravel from the street (even though it is an urban paved street in reality). Gravel in my clothes is possibly a play on “grave”.

Morning of January 15, 2015. Thursday.



This is part of a sparsely recurring dream series over a lifetime where I have electronic devices (often radios; sometimes music keyboards or synthesizers) but of which often do not look or work as expected. In this case, there are three items I seem to have recently bought for whatever reason. The location I am in seems to be public and unknown. However, I also seem to be living there at one point. An unknown male is behind some sort of counter, but again, it seems like a residence for the most part.

The three devices I apparently bought are on the floor near an entrance. They are not new but supposedly in good condition at first. This changes, though. Each item, I put on the counter to show the other male. The first device is possibly some sort of scanner and printer. I notice what seems to be a small loose thin circuit board on the top near an open area that resembles part of a typewriter, more to the right. I touch it, thinking it may be an extraneous or loose piece from a different device, and it comes off, seeming to break as if it had been attached by very thin wires and circuits. I see that the electronics look a bit too small to be “real” but do not say anything. I push it back on, now seeing what resembles Velcro, and it stays on, but I assume it will no longer work due to the detached circuits (possibly related to a printer head), thus I am annoyed.

Another device I put on the counter is somewhat like a large radio, possibly a shortwave radio. There are two rows of larger square buttons on the right of about four buttons each. Each button has some sort of embossed symbol on it. At one point, some look like English letters such as “P” and “K”. One looks like a vertical line with a short horizontal line coming from the right of the middle (a symbol I have seen in dreams before). The symbols seem to change later on. At one point, one button (the third over, on the top row) seems to have all the symbols and letters in an abstract three-tiered cluster. Apparently, I have to enter some sort of password to get the radio to work or to initialize it. I try to enter the right code, but I am not sure how to go about it. I am somewhat confused about whether I should press just the one abstract combined symbol button or press the separate buttons embossed with each singular part of that symbol (or more like some sort of combination of both, trying to determine where the combined one fits in the sequence).

I pick up the third and last device from the floor. It is somewhat like a toy tyrannosaurus made of Plaster of Paris, on an electronic platform of some kind, though also has something to do with a computer game, I think. After a short time, I notice several loose sections (one of which looks like a tulip with one petal broken off as well as the separate petal itself) which I gather together in a small pile. I remain unsure as to whether all the pieces are present. Whatever it is supposed to do, I am not sure if it will work again. My dream begins to lose cohesion at this point.

Morning of January 14, 2015. Wednesday.



My dream involves a “Star Trek” novel, printed by hand in ink on Post-it notes. The notes are in a large pile, mostly in order at first. About three-quarters of the way through, the pages seem out of order and the last section seems flipped around.

The story comes to life, both on a television in an unknown room I am in and sometimes with me at the scene of the story as an interactive “movie” for shorter periods. I see a small poster or page from an unknown magazine of a young William Shatner which reads “Trek Star”. At first, the letters in the title seem ambiguous or intentionally displaying different words (probably “Tek War” a series of science-fiction novels created by William Shatner, ghost-written by Ron Goulart). Also, it seems like the story is supposed to be “disguised” so that people will not realize at first that it is a “Star Trek” story, though the “Trek Star” title is a rather obvious clue that it is. I see Christopher Lloyd as a Klingon at one point. I hear the name “Kirk” (though not “captain”) fairly often as if that is supposed to be another clue before it is more clearly a “Star Trek” story.

One scene where I seem to actually be present relates to an event where Kirk is on a planet and has dealings with a few Freakies (from Freakies Cereal) who are trying to help him in what seems like a possible court martial, though it looks like a normal courtroom at one point. Kirk mentions how the Freakies were not members of his crew though they seem to think they are honorary members, which is why they want to help him. The story is not that clear. It may be that the Klingons have invaded the Freakies home world.

It eventually becomes tedious to read each paragraph on each separate Post-it note (though reading in dreams is often difficult, as the writing typically changes when looking back at it). I am not sure where the stack of Post-it notes came from. When I get three-quarters in as mentioned earlier, some of the pages are also either blank or very slightly reflective bronze-colored on one side. I start to look through the rest of them but my dream loses cohesion at this point. I do carefully flip each page over onto the ones in the pile already read, which remains on the floor for the most part, though I sometimes pick it up. The remaining pages are in my left hand.

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Morning of January 13, 2015. Tuesday.



I am about twenty again and mostly working for the street department. In reality, I had been washing fire engines, pumping gas, filling in graves after funerals, carrying very heavy rocks from the side of the road to place in front of the main bulldozer route, replacing bulbs in exit signs, cleaning up a roomful of overripe exploded pumpkin in day care centers, removing hundreds of crayon marks from day to day, reading about how the last person in my position was in the hospital for asbestos poisoning, being accosted by an older lady (a complete stranger) while using a weed-eater on the curb (whom I refused due to the potential of being fired or even penalized by local government), and other diverse and interesting tasks.

Anyhow, back in my dream there seems to be an unknown older Russian male. My job has something to do with a “dead end” and is at least partly related to a red-and-white-striped saw horse - this in turn being related to a new musical composition somehow or at least aspects of sound engineering. It really does not make that much sense due to the fact that the “dead end” is right near an intersection and on the corner (typical absurd dream “logic” I would imagine). I spend considerable time trying to make the music in my mind fit into my task of making sure the corner is properly designated as a possible hazard. Meanwhile, the Russian male seems aggravated about the incompleteness of the area in general. I decide to leave and come back in a short time from another way. Perhaps this will help me understand the precise angle in which the saw horse should proclaim the “dead end” at the open intersection. Absurd…

Morning of January 12, 2015. Monday.



This dream was of not much interest to me. I am still “going back to King Street” after over twenty years. It is always different, however. This time, my apartment (or the pinhead’s apartment I may be visiting at the time) is near the space which the large bathroom was in reality but farther southward. The pinhead (Leonard S) is present and mostly stands to my left without doing or saying much and there is seemingly not much furniture in the large room.

The activity is somewhat unclear - though it is related to an apparently important task involving sorting. There are several low stacks of folded newspapers (from different time periods, possibly relative to a ten year time period) over the floor in at least six or more piles to my right and at least four or more to my left. It is possible that they are only about two or three newspapers high or there may in fact be only one newspaper in each position. I am aware that there are many more newspapers to go through in whatever activity I am involved in. My landlady (who lived to be over a hundred in real life) comes in, seemingly slightly annoyed, but I do not think I am doing anything wrong.

It is possible that I am involved in scanning all of the pages or certain features of them - such as the comics only (or at least sorting them more precisely somehow, though by what relevance I am not certain), but if so, it seems I am doing it mentally - yet still possibly sending it to a computer file somewhere (apparently to save space). I notice that some top pages are showing typical clusters of paragraphs related to actual news (with some black and white photographs here and there) and other top pages are mostly showing columns of daily comic strips (I notice a “Wizard of Id” strip featuring Spook, the hairy dungeon prisoner). This is in about a fifty-fifty proportion overall. Not much else happens. The floor remains covered with newspapers as my dream loses cohesion.

Morning of January 10, 2015. Saturday.



This is another dream where I seem “absentmindedly” lucid (though not as aware as being the dream-maker as in other dream types), but not fully lucid to where I actively alter the rendering in any way. I have been focusing on the various levels of perception types in dreams a bit more than usual, but I think that minor variations are too numerous to pinpoint.

This dream mainly includes my brother-in-law Bob (still alive), a sister (his wife), another sister (Carol), my mother, and several other people that are not as much to the forefront of the theme. Mostly I talk to them about their status of being alive or deceased at certain times (mostly in reference to the future), which seems a bit odd as they are all seemingly younger and healthy at this point. Apparently it is June 1995 in one part of my dream (likely because I just included a June 1995 dream on a recent entry on two sites, that being “Rainforest Portal”). At one point, I vaguely perceive that it may be 2001. (To regard that there are actually twenty years from 1995 to 2015 seems almost preposterous to me even though it is true. This probably says a lot about my perspective and general perception of time. My wife seems as beautiful and young-looking as ever.)

My relatives do not seem that annoyed by my reporting of when they will die. I do tell one sister to take care of her stomach and with another, I mention her gall bladder. I even tell my brother-in-law that he is still alive. There is a brief idea about the old photograph that shows two of my brothers and two of my sisters on my mother’s side. Whether or not they will “remain” in the photograph is mostly only in the back of my mind; likely a “Back to the Future” influence. If so, only the youngest boy will be left standing (the only one still living).

In the back of my mind, I am trying to remember what year it really is, but cannot; typical in-dream amnesia, I suppose, though I am only mildly frustrated by this inability to determine the nature of the supposed time period (a contemplation of which is fairly rare in my dreams). I experience mild sadness about knowing their fate but it is not that dramatic. However, I sometimes find myself going over in my mind regarding who is alive and who had passed away when I am in certain semi-sleep states, which likely carries over into certain dream states but in a more unusual way where they are all “alive” for a time.

There is another section to my dream involving my mother. I first see what looks like a smaller bearlike creature squatting near the periphery of a garden just off the walkway from the side of a house. After a short time, I realize it is my mother (who looks more like a “real” version of Loweezy from the “Snuffy Smith” comic strip), this being one of those times when any symbolic association actually reveals itself within my dream. (Bears have sometimes come to be representative of my mother in childhood - big and threatening at times but still very protective of their cubs.)

Finally, I am to get dressed for some sort of event, though I am not certain if it is for a wedding (of possibly an undetermined relative) or for going to school (as a young student - apparently my perceived timeline has shifted again). I have newer clothes loosely scattered under a bed (apparently recently bought by my mother) which are supposedly suitable for me. It is only a minor annoyance to have to reach under the bed (which I think is in the carport of my Cubitis home, north to south) and slide out what I want. After I undress and begin to dress again (including putting on a nice blue shirt), I eventually grab a pair of blue jeans and put them on. In a short time however, I see that they are actually yellow dress pants, which makes me cry out “Blech!” in my dream (though there is no one around at that point). I take them off with great annoyance (and near disgust) and find a new (and unfaded) pair of jeans. My dream loses coherence before I am fully ready to go wherever it is I have to go.

Morning of January 10, 2015. Saturday.



I do not normally include this common dream type online (at least yet) as, really, it is impossible to give justice to in writing; plus, being mostly imagery-based (for the most part) with no actual plot (and with far too many unique scenes to faithfully document online), it is not as “useful” or relative to more complex word associations or nebulous intrigue - it is more like passively indulging in pure overwhelming fantasy. Still, it is a very good example of what I do not usually post (again, yet); that being a standard vivid fully lucid dream (sometimes of which I have about a dozen or so per night since early childhood, though often “collections” of many more shorter mostly unrelated ones). It is somewhat puzzling, though. As with another recent ecstatic dream (“Return to the Green”) it somehow seems linked to the Tetris effect, yet also, seems to have been “triggered” by one completely unrelated image. That is only my guess, though.

At one point later on (after my dream starts to “swirl” and transform to more mundane visual nuances and non-glowing colors as it ends), I hear a seemingly “meaningful” phrase which is actually typical in-dream absurd gibberish where words are changed around with an emphasis on similar phonemes. It turns out to be “Ban the head and hedge the wedge!”

My dream begins to form with extraordinarily beautiful black and orange fiery clouds in what may be the early evening sky, implying perhaps a volcanic eruption in the distance, though this is uncertain as it may just be a wondrous sunset (or sunrise?). In the back of my mind I am thinking it may be about Krakatoa. For a short time, I focus on moving the sun around in the sky to change what time it is, but that is not fully instigated or dominant. I see the beautiful semi-lit ocean before me. I seem to be on the shore of an isolated island with a white sand beach, but for the most part, remain disembodied.

I mostly remain in a typical vivid lucid dream state where I just watch my dream and contemplate materializing my physical form into it depending on what I see. The three-dimensional depth perception is greatly enhanced as is the “glowing from the inside” effect of most of the characters and environmental features.

An old skiff (with about half the paint flaked off) approaches the island (with incredibly accurate and clear detail, even in the wonderful motions and variations in the water), with one younger girl in loose white rags jumping out from near the front of it and trying to pull it closer to the beach (rope over shoulder) through the beautiful shallow (about knee-high) turquoise water. There are about six other females aboard, some more pirate-like than others. I absentmindedly attempt to step into my dream causing an odd vertical water-like ripple effect in front of me whereby the girl looks confused, then backs up, jumps back in the skiff, and then the skiff floats back out about five feet from shore. She looks in my direction curiously as if I am only half visible. I decide to become fully invisible by phasing back out of the scene. The scene repeats. She jumps out and splashes back into the beautiful turquoise water, pulls the skiff with an old rope over her left shoulder again (holding it with both hands) and remains on the periphery of the shore looking around. Meanwhile, I am still contemplating moving the sun across the sky, still somewhat admiring the intense fiery black and orange expanse of clouds that sit on the horizon. I also notice about six pirate ships in various locations. It is possible, at one point, that the black and orange clouds are caused by a burning ship, but this is not certain. The ships I do see are not involved in any conflict.

Eventually I realize that there are hundreds of solely younger females everywhere on the ships in various modes of dress, but mostly no later than the 1880s. Rather than exploring the island a bit more inland, I soon mostly float disembodied over the ships. I decide to just watch everything rather than entering in my physical form. I do not want to disrupt such incredible imagery. The girls mostly just stand around in various areas of the ships (including one on each step of a staircase) and there is no sign of actual piracy of any kind. In the back of my mind, I contemplate approach or direct contact of certain ones, such as one in a white dress (which slowly billows out and sways a bit) near the outer deck, but do not. There is a slight breeze. These ships seem to be “in waiting” for something but I am not focused on that concept very much. I mostly remain on the outside of the ships, floating at about three to four feet up in most instances. It goes on for at least fifteen minutes during which time I become aware that my breathing is quite deep and long.

There is a rather unusual distorted (but still very vivid) feature. One ship (more specifically just above the deck of it) has a tendency to “warp” into what seems like an elongated covered timber-truss bridge, warping slightly to the left in the distance in a somewhat tunnel-like effect over the ocean yet into infinity. I do not enter at any time; I just watch it curiously. It is not quite ominous, just a bit out-of-place with the rest of the imagery. This may be an ambiguous variation of the “eternity bridge”, a fairly common feature in my dreams since childhood.

Morning of January 8, 2015. Thursday.



My family and I seem to be living back in Brisbane on Stadcor Street. The annoying neighbors are seemingly ones we have had more recently, though. I am looking at a magazine but sometimes seem to be more present at the actual location where the (mostly newer and in color) photographs were taken, but not with any interaction or acknowledgement of my presence by anyone in the photographs. At first, there are a few images of a younger nun looking at a mummified nun that had been placed near a doorway (to the right of it). It is in some sort of catacombs directly linked with or inside a larger church. Later on, there are platforms that display mummified bishops, cardinals, and popes. Many are well-preserved, but there is one where the back is arched and the head turned back at an odd angle with the mouth wide open. It is mentioned how some remains had not been maintained during certain time periods or within certain groups. Some bodies and heads are much more skeletal than others. This possibly represents my complete disinterest (since early childhood) in anything relative to churches or organized religion. Mummies and statues seem to have similar in-dream meanings, though oddly enough, statues have proven to be more likely to come to life than mummies. I think statues reflect stronger or more recent associations with potential of what they represent while mummies represent non-potential. In fact, one of my first better-documented lucid dreams as such (from age four) related to the statue of “The Thinker” coming to life (yet at the same time not wanting to be seen as such by the general public).

Later on, there is some sort of frustration regarding the neighbors, but it is not clear. I end up with some sort of gorilla costume, which I wear at first to protect myself from their antics. This in fact does not seem that logical in afterthought - as one wearing a gorilla costume would be far more conspicuous. However, the costume also has some sort of advanced internal technology which also makes the suit bulletproof. This bulletproof nature seems based on some sort of redirection using advanced technology. Apparently there is an active invisible layer around the suit that instantly detects proximity of any kind, which also instantly reverses any projectile - perhaps based on some sort of magnetic inversion in some sort of field around every point on the suit, though works on any kind of threat including nonmetallic. I do not have to do anything as it is automatic.

Eventually, there are military officials involved. Some who shoot at me are victims of their own weapons when the bullets redirect back to them. I am more annoyed at being followed around, including down an alley in town, than being shot at. Even a rocket launcher is ready to be used on me, but there is no effect. In fact, the bigger the weapon, the sooner it redirects. Thus, the rocket explodes as soon as it leaves the launcher when it is fairly far away from me in the alley (and on the opposite side). This seems to vaguely remind me of some sort of physics law relative to gravity. The men following me mostly only appear in groups of two or three at a time.

I am vaguely remembering that if I find the portal to the Pascal-triangle-like phasing of reality (related to the “event horizon” of reality) I can then be invisible to all but the most intelligent members of human society, though invisible to all depending on how far I go.

Morning of January 6, 2015. Tuesday.



In the first event, I am flying, about ten feet above the street, behind a car driven by my wife Zsuzsanna’s younger sister (who we rarely see in real life). I do not know who her passenger is. Suddenly, her car stops in the middle of the street as if it hit something that was literally invisible. I see that she is lying on her back across the front seat (instead of being in a position that would indicate that she had just crashed as the driver), her head to my left. There is a purple area of skin around her nose and cheeks, continuing down to just above her chest, somewhat hour-glass-shaped. I am trying to decide if this was a result of her face hitting the steering wheel (as she has a minor nosebleed) or if it represents either a breathing problem or blood chemistry imbalance related to breathing. It seems to be the latter. Someone calls an ambulance. (In reality, she has no breathing problems as far as I know but does maintain a hostile attitude.)

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This may relate to being “purple with rage”. Overall, my dream has no significance with recent events, though is possibly a reminder of her self-destructive attitude; that I would not let her mentality “drive” me.

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The next event relates to being an aid to a higher-ranking military figure. An old prisoner with a beard is not a terrorist as believed by most officials. The only one who knows this is the military figure I serve. He is planning to help the prisoner escape without detection. Firstly, the prisoner is told to shave as well as wear a military uniform he is discretely given.

We release the prisoner from his cell and the three of us walk towards an elevator. No one seems suspicious. While we are on the elevator, an older (but shorter than we are) higher-ranking official steps in. We start talking about big game hunting. I try to sound intelligent in this scene but end up being incoherent. I talk about hunting buffalo (bison) but I am uncertain if they have tusks or long tusk-like horns. (They have horns, but in my dream, I do not perceive them as such and I feel that my uncertainty was a foolish mistake that would expose me as not understanding hunting.) I go on to talk about hunting elephants (as if they are like bison) and giraffes and then add, somewhat unnecessarily, that this sort of hunting is not in America. Still, the official does not mock me or seem suspicious.

I and the military man I am helping are eventually out on the street with the former prisoner, getting into a convertible (which is across the street from the government building). An unfamiliar female approaches the car from the right side, saying that she knew the man was an escaping prisoner, yet did not raise the alarm (and it seems she helped us in distracting a couple other officers as we were leaving the building). I am not sure what her motive is. She reminds me of actress Margaret Hamilton (Miss Gulch and The Wicked Witch of the West from 1939’s “The Wizard of Oz”). (I sometimes confused her with Jane Withers as Josephine the Plumber when I was young. “The Farmer Takes a Wife” from 1935 stars both.) The parked car transmutes to my “return” to bed.

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The preconscious (here the Margaret Hamilton character) is passive and helpful in this case, as the prisoner (my emergent consciousness) escaping is waking symbolism. This is foreshadowed and validated by the elevator ride (which symbolizes a real-time transition in consciousness, often either the induction or waking prompt precursor in liminal space) while my dream self is openly displaying and proving my lack of critical thinking skills and viable memory of hunting (biological sustenance symbolism as the dream self cannot physically eat or survive on its own and my unconscious mind is pulling away the fictional nature of my dream self). The higher-ranking military figure I am helping could be identified as the transpersonal interconsciousness, while the other male on the elevator could be a stand-in model for everyman.

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