Blue_Opossum

Morning of November 26, 2014. Wednesday.



This is a dream more-so of a theme from several years back regarding the end of the human race and my family and I “moving on” to a better existence. It is typical to where I eventually have full control over my dream (as a “writer” and “director”) for the most part yet am not remotely lucid or even in a more vivid or defined state.

In my vaguer dream state, I am unsettled at the severe lack of intelligence on one dream “interpretation” site. I had actually joined the site recently, but do not plan on being much of an active part of it. One main “interpreter” (with about 20,000 posts) and another with 3,000 posts seem to have never correctly remembered any dreams in their lifetime or even know what dreams are. This is actually far worse than what I read when growing up and not wanting to have anything to do with dream dictionaries and such. Even though I am not aware I am dreaming, I ponder the two bizarre characters on that site and my proportional focus of being entirely “alien” by comparison. (This focus is what eventually builds the main dream itself, I think.)

One of the posters believes that all dreams are functions to wake up a person - sometimes because they are tired (which makes no sense at all - if you are tired you need more sleep or rest not less) - or in many cases, caused by a pain in the neck or arm in a certain position. He continuously claims all dreams are solely for waking you up and never have any meaning at all and that lucid dreaming is not possible. There are around 3,000 posts of this nature - all evidence the “interpreter” has never remembered a dream themselves or know what they are. The posts are so bizarre, I cannot help but have residual “alien” associations. While it is true certain types of dreams are influenced by the environment or physical body or sometimes produce scenarios to deliberately wake someone up, that is certainly not the main cause or purpose of all dreams. The other “interpreter” with the near-20,000 posts interprets almost everything as either “a thief” (and making references to serfs and pages/page boys and many other long-outdated social scenarios as if he is from another century) or “getting a money” - and yet people reference this poster when asking for “interpretations” on that site as if I am still living in the ancient Middle East. It is a strange world still.

Obviously, there are far worse things than the general lack of intelligence and valid information regarding dream work. The overwhelming corruption of authority comes into focus again.

At one point, there is a war between two groups of people. Apparently I actually am an “alien” as it is the “only” explanation for my perspective of society as it is. Oddly, though, other (unfamiliar) people that are seemingly average are also “alien”. There does not seem to be different DNA (other than human) to “explain” this. I am the leader of a group that is moving to a planet that is very close to Earth (which of course would not be possible in reality - planets cannot exist within a short distance of each other). However, before we can be fully free, we need to destroy the infrastructure of Earth so the governments will not corrupt the new planet. Mostly, miniature airplanes (about the size of a person with their arms spread out) that look like Fokkers (from World War I) fly around and destroy everything but without killing people. At times, I seem to be flying over various landscapes seeing what needs to be done. I see people running around in chaos and fear, but again, I do not see anyone being killed (unlike similar dreams of the past).

Over time, I am aware of the American president (Obama) agreeing to meet with two or three people from my group as well as me (it is extremely rare for me to dream of presidents in any context). After this meeting and shaking of hands at a public venue (after most infrastructure has been destroyed), my group and I walk down a sidewalk and begin to prepare to eventually travel to the other planet - and all our clothes change color - for us to elude other people (for example, snipers) who know what we had been wearing at that meeting. Still, I sense betrayal for the most part, and at any rate, we need to “begin again” on the other planet.

I mentally set off a huge atomic bomb of potentially worldwide destruction, or so it seems at first. It is not even that far away from where we are and I can see it towering into the sky in the distance, reminding me of a sunset in some ways. However, the explosion and mushroom cloud is slightly “frozen” yet moving in extremely slow motion. (This being similar to dreams where I control tsunamis to “freeze” their location or reduce their force or “play with their energies” sometimes experiencing ecstasy.) I casually walk along, and eventually decide to also remove the nuclear fallout potential from the event before I bring the event back to normal speed after we get to the other planet - there will still be all the otherwise healthy humans of Earth but without a means to reach us at this point, until they rebuild, I suppose…

Morning of November 25, 2014. Tuesday.



I seem to have the job or at least the temporary responsibility of taking a few bales of hay to at least two locations via tractor, though either it turns out to be several locations or my dream “resets” several times. (I say this because the two men I talk to at each location, other than the last one, seem to be the same people each time even though the setting is seemingly different.)

At the last location, the men seem annoyed and state that they do not need anymore hay because they sold their place and had gotten rid of any animals and were in the act of moving. Apparently I was supposed to have known this. They start to get in their van to drive off. I start to act more annoyed than they are acting and their van ends up with three bales of hay in it (and nothing else) because I say how I am just supposed to be doing what I am doing (because of what someone else told me to do) and so I put it in the van. I then go on my way.

I end up going to a recreational area near a large lake. There seems to be some sort of family reunion or possibly a wedding. As I am driving my tractor over a small bridge mostly intended for walking (I never leave the seat of the tractor at any point in my dream until the very last scenario when it seems to shift into a different theme), I notice a young female (a younger version of my wife whom I do not immediately recognize) being given what I first “understand” to be a couple birthday cards or congratulatory wedding cards. Looking more closely, I see they are miniature tombstones made of plaster of Paris. This does not seem all that strange though I am not sure what it is for.

The large variant group does seem to be there for a wedding. I note the beauty of the lake for a time. At least six picnic tables in fairly close proximity near the shore are all full of people. For a time, I seem to be driving the tractor right over the surface of the water as if I was in a boat though I eventually pilot it back to shore and onto the land again as if there was nothing unusual about the scene. I feel happy and relaxed in doing this.

I notice about eight undressed females near the picnic tables in two areas. They are walking around and standing near the tables. At times, they seem to be wearing partial diaphanous pieces from a wedding dress, mostly only above the waist. It does not dawn on me that they are all identical copies of my wife. The scene itself is somewhat like the park we were married at. It is ambiguous, however, as it also seems like Wisconsin in some ways. I do not even catch that I am dreaming although I do sense a sort of puzzlement over the scene as if some of them are reflections or projections from somewhere else.

I think about approaching one of them, but remember that I have more work to do and do not want to lose my job. I drive up a fairly steep overpass but then quickly glide down the other side as if on a roller coaster. There is no other traffic.

I somehow end up in a different job which is related to some sort of dodgy apprenticeship for some sort of self-help or quasi-religious organization; and wander around at a typically pointless seminar where people sit around listening to someone else talking about the transient opportunities that may work for each member of the audience if they only tried. It is like an auditorium (without much lighting) and I feel a bit energetic and very cheerful. I run up and down the aisles like a child, annoying a few members of the audience. One older male is lying on the floor for some reason, apparently because he believes I may be throwing things at people (though I am not doing anything but running around, enjoying myself, and feeling very light on my feet).

A young female is speaking about how the organization has helped her. She does a “before” and “after” routine where she takes an open company brochure and hides the lower part of her face that has acne saying that this is what she looks like now; no longer having acne. This of course seems rather pointless - so ridiculous as to not even come across with the potential of being deliberately deceptive. Several other people are seated in front of the audience, each telling their faux “success” story in a somewhat tentative fashion. Another person rolls the company brochure into a cylinder over his lap, to show how it has supposedly enhanced his virility. More foolishness. The audience is unmoved.

I mostly do not care about this pointless seminar and end up going back outside to start delivering bales of hay again, mostly in pairs, feeling more cheerful than before at not being a part of the ridiculous group behind the seminar or a part of any organized faux system.

I have not driven a tractor in reality in many years, since I was about twelve years old.

Morning of November 24, 2014. Monday.

Dream #: 17,507-02. Reading time (optimized): 1 min.



My dream starts with a vague backstory of anger in a grocery store or other business. I am unsure of what had occurred. An unknown man with whom I seem to have been annoyed comes out to shake his fist at me. I fly away to relax. I rise slowly, gaining more speed as I fly above the streets.

I land in Northside La Crosse, within a few blocks south of the Loomis Street house. A tornado approaches from the northwest. I walk into a narrow alley with tall buildings adjacent to each side (a fictitious setting). The twister seems sentient as it turns to approach my location, but I feel unthreatened. It cannot come into the narrow alley. The wind is strong but does not harm me. I stand near the end of the alleyway, enjoying the realistic sensations. It eventually “decides” to leave the area to move west up the street. (I am instinctually aware I am controlling it.)

I decide to check up on my relatives who live in the area without recall that most of them had died. The street is instead a bridge of about ten feet high. I walk across it to instinctually vivify my imaginary physicality. What looks like huge cooked spaghetti strands, about the size of sections of garden hose, cover the lawns. They are supposedly the physical remnants of the tornado.

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Before full wakefulness, I recall a comic book story (possibly from “Spooky The Tuff Little Ghost”) featuring a tornado made of spaghetti.

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Morning of November 24, 2014. Monday.



I am back at my older sister Marilyn’s house in La Crosse and trying to get her to appear by calling out to her to show herself (having the understanding that she had died yet also still potentially present in certain supraconscious dream realms, perhaps). I am semi-lucid in an atypical way; not in a more coherent sense. In one sense, it is vaguely like some sort of soliloquy-like seance. Over time, my sister does not walk from the other room as I expect her to even though I vaguely sense her presence on the other side of the darkened doorway. I am trying not to project my frustration as there is a growing realization she does not exist anymore, yet at the same time I sense her unwillingness to come out. However, there is no stronger focus on mortality by that point. (I have had very similar dream scenes in the past but usually tulpa-based, not related to real people either living or deceased.)

Eventually, three cats enter the house somehow (possibly through the open front door). One of the cats seems to be one which my family presently has (though had supposedly died in my dream’s back story weeks before). It is Franco, a black and white male cat. The other two cats are more like miniature leopards in one way but still with domestic cat attributes including the body proportions. From here, my dream goes into some distorted scenes where my perception is badly skewed.

I falsely “remember” that these were my sister’s two cats. Somehow (also an in-dream false memory) they died around the same time she did, which is supposedly related to something unexplainable (relative to “mutual deaths” which stems from real-life ideas of the past where a sister’s neighbor died and then their otherwise healthy spouse died shortly thereafter, supposedly out of grief). However, at the same time, there is a highly ambiguous idea that they are still alive (but Franco had been partly made sick by them as well) and had caused sickness in other people (in turn causing their death) by biting or scratching them (again, a false memory as the other people reflected upon other than my sister are still alive). Again, this is directly related to the two “leopard cats” (possible association with leprosy as well as the pet hybrid bobcat attack I experienced in my youth). They are not very aggressive (they seem to be mostly just playful though do attempt to “hunt” based on my body’s movement), but I want to completely avoid contact with them as they are seemingly venomous. I am aware of mild pressure on my body at times but I do not seem to actually be bitten at any point. (This seems partially related to a “struggle” with the bed sheet and an attempt to get my real physical body into a more comfortable position.)

I go to the couch, slowly going back into a semi-lucid state, and am on my knees on the floor at that point, my head near the seat of the couch. However, there is not that much coherence even though my general awareness is slowly sharpening. I then go into an odd state that is quite rare, where I attempt to “spit out” my dream while still in it before I fully wake. It takes about three attempts in making sure my dream’s environment does not “enter” my waking essence (the opposite of healing dreams where I intentionally carry facets of my dream’s energy into waking life). I do not seem to recall reading about this sort of dream experience, other than some supposed healers in real life spitting out the essence of what they supposedly take out of their patients. On another note, this dream setting near the couch is the exact spot of one of the only times in my life I have been ill in this manner in real life (from one of the only times in my life that I drank alcohol).

Morning of November 23, 2014. Sunday.



I am walking with my wife (we seem much younger, which is typical) in an unfamiliar area in Australia, but likely not that far from where we presently live. I am aware of the “Enchanted Forest” being nearby. This is a fictional in-dream location that has been a part of my dreams since earliest memory, though the more defined version seems based somewhat on the Enchanted Forest concept from the older Harvey comic books (from the mid to late 60s). This was also where I first learned “my animal” was the opossum at age four (which I originally incorrectly associated with “small foxes in trees”).

Usually, the forest is seemingly in the United States. I usually go in at about a twenty-two degree angle (half of the perfectly diagonal forty-five degree angle) from the west (and off from an otherwise “familiar” public road). There is another section on the south end which does not occur in dreams quite as often.

It is always a very beautiful and “deep” reflective state, somewhat like a “hiding place” but when no hiding place is needed. There are almost always other characters I enjoy taking in with me. In this case, it seems to be reflective of the “Magical Mystery Tour”. There is an idea of what others have believed (in perceived “wrongful ways”) about dreams, though this does not have any residual negative impact on my dream state. I have read that one person on one site believes that dreams are created by someone (or something) other than the dreamer. This writer does not believe in anything “paranormal” (for lack of a better term) such as precognition (or even intuition apparently) or shared dreaming, and yet believes dreams are created by some other entity or being - quite possibly the most ridiculous form of hypocrisy and doubletalk I have ever seen. I am fully aware that I am the dreamer and “creator” here (as with all dreams of this “Enchanted Forest” type), and yet this is not a lucid dream (in that the intense vivid energy of being truly lucid and “fully conscious” in the dream state is not present). In fact, this is a typical non-lucid portal dream, where I am “delivered” into one of several of my most desired dream settings upon the dream first taking cohesive form.

In fact, I have almost always been aware at one level or another that I was creating my own dream (even in non-lucid states) - at least the foundation or primary focus thereof. I have even been fully aware of being the one behind certain chase dreams where I have a memory of instigating the chase scenes for excitement and by which the dream then became “too real”. I have, however, been aware of individual personas or the presence of “something else” which usually only ever occurred with negative dreams or impressions, even when awake but in a state of meditation or stillness. That which is positive, beneficial, or life-oriented has only ever seemed to come from my innermost self in all honesty (only one of many reasons I have never believed in “guides”).

My wife and I walk through winding paths with high grasses on each side, enjoying the scenery and isolation from the public. We seem to be going southwest for the most part, though more westerly. I seem to feel that I know where we are going on one level, though the forest seemingly always has different potential. After a time, I start to see evidence of civilization. However, there has always been an impression that sections of the forest (usually the most central) were not in “this” world.

We emerge into an area that is mostly an open field, with shorter grass and signs of human habitation. There are a few buildings here and there, but quite far apart. I note three places where there is mostly only one larger building. One of the buildings has some sort of sign regarding Victoria. It may be a travel agency. It seems odd that we could have gone that far in such a short time and ended up here, apparently in Victoria. There is a cheerful mood for the most part, but we decide that we should go back rather than leaving the periphery of the trees to look around this isolated habitation or very small town, though the dream is already losing cohesion at that point.

Night of November 22, 2014. Saturday.

Dream #: 17,505-02. Reading time: 44 sec.



In my dream, I am in bed in the position I am in as I sleep (though my head is in the opposite direction). I am on my stomach. I slept this way sometimes when I was young but not much as an adult.

After a short time, I realize I have four legs. My second set of legs are slightly elevated, one on each side of me. My back opens up, and my two extra legs move perfectly and simultaneously as if with a robotic function (though there is a vague association with insects). They move up and down into a recess in my back as if for storage. It is a vivid and smooth event with similar nuances as another dream of over twenty years ago when telescopes suddenly extended from my eyes.

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My dream’s causal factor stems from a lack of distinct physicality during REM sleep as well as the subliminal but distorted perception of muscular tension and relaxation. It is by way of the same process that causes the hypnopompic kick (most often when on my back) but with different dynamics.

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Morning of November 21, 2014. Friday.



The following dream type is, thankfully, not very common to me. It seems to occur in a different area of the mind (or perspective at least) than many other dream types.

Because conscious focus regarding more precise short-term memory is completely lacking in some dream types (along with critical thinking skills), it is inherently frustrating to get “trapped” in a scenario that requires short-term memory cohesion. In this case, it is a too-long dream that becomes more irritating over time and goes on in such a manner until I wake.

My youngest son has a game that is based on some sort of advanced technology - some sort of holographic; yet with actual objects as well; and computer-software-based toy. However, he cannot seem to make it work correctly to get to another level or part of the game. It seems to be like a section that physically opens (like a book) to display a fairly large playing field (like a typical board game that unfolds, but with depth as with a Backgammon kit) or actual smaller objects (such as vehicles and figures).

I have a false in-dream memory that tells me I set a password based on a certain sequence that uses the time, whereby you have to key in a particular password at the exact second (by watching the clock built in to the game). However, there seems to be more to it than that. I believe it is based on at least two other factors. I am trying to recall the nature of how the setup works, but I keep getting muddied short-term memory over the sequence.

I try no less than about twenty times over a fairly long time period, it seems, becoming more and more annoyed that I cannot concentrate well enough. Finally, I see that there is another similar game that has already been opened, but some of the pieces are out of the box. I get everything in order, which entails putting everything in exactly the right locations (before the kit can close properly), including putting some things inside larger things (again, mostly miniature toy vehicles and figures).

Unfortunately, when I shut the playing-field-box, it becomes locked (and my son had wanted to play this due to not being able to open the other one), and a password is required to open it as with the other game. Again and again, I try to time what I am typing with the seconds value in the display, but miss it by a microsecond each time. Because my short-term memory is not working at all, it is futile. Even more futile, the keyed-in password is oddly complex. It consists of typing three letters (after pressing some other keys or buttons elsewhere) and additionally typing in another three letters (which I think is “atc”) while holding another key that represents a wider caret symbol (used like some sort of Alt or Ctrl entry) - the “atc” letters which need to be under the wider caret “roof” in the sequence. It has to be timed so that the seconds value has not changed upon entry.

I am not even sure why the setup is like this. I know the passwords were set by me at an earlier date, but nothing seems to work due to my short-term memory loss and in-dream fatigue.

This type of dream does not seem to have any actual meaning or significance of any kind (other than a possible remote viewing or image-based precognitive potential I would guess), similar to dreams heavily influenced by environmental sounds or physical sensations during sleep; that is, solely a mental process during sleep which you happen to remember.

My dream carries a very similar mood and awareness as certain childhood dreams where I had to keep putting my shoes on over and over again (and sometimes my clothes) even though I had already done it several times, and sometimes going out walking and seeing that my shoes were still not on my feet. This basically seems some sort of “malfunction” in a liminal “cross-linked” sense and may be related to the process responsible for many people not remembering their dreams at all even though it also seems partially relevant to the “practice/reset” type regarding real tasks.

Morning of November 19, 2014. Wednesday.



My family and I are “still” living on Barolin Street in my dream although the front porch seems to be missing relative to the entrance to the house. (I only say that as it seems I can view the front sidewalk entrance directly from the main bedroom’s front window - though dreams often have “exploded views” and altered perspectives, x-ray vision being common as well since earliest memory).

I notice a very attractive dark-haired female of about twenty. She is walking up to our front door. It is seemingly a younger version of my wife, which I do not directly realize in-dream at the time. However, another version of my wife answers the door even though we are wary of such visits. (As funny as this sounds, it is not that uncommon an event in either of our dreams). She is dressed plainly in blue jeans.

The girl is a representative of some sort of political group, as well as the group possibly having the attributes of a charity. It also seems to relate to political campaign funding, however. The group is called BUMP, as she explains it. Even though it is an acronym, I do not quite understand what it represents. It is a group that is against domestic violence, apparently. The word “government” is supposed to be in there somewhere even though there is no “g” in “bump”, but I do not consider this distortion in my dream. I do not make out any other possible words in the group’s name. Not much happens after her spiel. We do not give her any money and my dream fades.

This is the third recent dream (possibly the fourth, which I had not posted at this time) that seems to relate directly to forum posting and activity in a somewhat negative light. Normally, I do not post on forums at all but have recently, but usually remain completely passive even to trolls, with only one exception being the bizarre relentless troll on another dream journal site who continuously constructs agenda-based faux “dreams” to directly troll others (sometimes using their user names, racial backgrounds, dream work beliefs, or their family setup). This connection includes the recent dream where I could control fire (reference to “flaming”), the comic strip one I just posted (seemingly related to “removing” what people say on a forum - or “emptying my head” of their atrocious ideas), and now this one with a reference to “bump” - which relates to bringing a post back up to the top of a forum (and I last saw the term last night).

In my dream, I do not reflect on the irony of B.U.M.P. being against being literally “bumped” in one association.

Looking at this in an entirely different way (or through another layer - as dreams usually have several composite layers), I can also confirm it relates to a type of meditation, whereby my “younger” wife “bumps” (that is, “comes back up to the top”) of her present self with rejuvenating energies in the “maximum well-being” set.

Morning of November 19, 2014. Wednesday.



There is not much clarity in this dream. It involves constructing some sort of xylophone-like musical instrument out of mostly cardboard of at least two different thicknesses. First, it seems vaguely like putting pages of a book together, perhaps a larger board book (of the kind for very young children). The concept involves strips that are attached over a larger rectangular piece. The end of each strip has a square hole and each strip is a slightly different length to supposedly produce a different pitch when tapped, similar to the science experiment (such as in primary school) with the ruler - where you “pluck” the ruler that is held over the edge of a desk.

It does not seem that successful of an endeavor and there are at least two “resets”. One project ends up with the strips being of random lengths along the side, by which the musical scale would then not be in any coherent order. I do not really see this as a symbolic outcome in any significant way, as the reasoning skills of the mind (in typical dream types) do not work during the dream state for the most part. I have rarely seen musical instruments work correctly or realistically in dreams (or anything else for that matter - it is just the way dreams are). This includes the dreams where I was playing a seemingly broken guitar and the sound of an entire band came out of it in a very enjoyable and “perfect” way.

Even though it is not relevant to a xylophone, this may be little more than a play on “reed instrument” vs. “read instrument (book)”. This is because the cardboard pieces remind me vaguely of accordion reeds that I used to work with many years ago. It may relate to finding “music” in the way words are arranged in sentences or perhaps poetry.

Morning of November 18, 2014. Tuesday.



Once again I am back in school, possibly Mr. F’s fifth grade classroom, but the setup is a little different and the teacher is unfamiliar. The directional orientation is a little more like a fourth grade class I had, in some ways. I am aware of best friend Toby T but I am the only student that remains in the classroom at one point. Still, there are open books on most of the desks. Apparently, the teacher (female and about twenty-five) has given me extra time to finish a writing task, which is to be a short story about five pages long, handwritten on sheets of plain notebook paper. There is absolutely no awareness of modern technology at any point in my dream.

A new dream type has become more viable recently (though likely temporary). It involves clearer writing within the dream state and interestingly, is not as frustrating as when reading a book in a dream (especially a longer book that eventually makes me overly tired after waking - more tired than if I had not slept at all), even though I have to read what I write both as I am writing and after.

The story slowly comes into development. I write about events as if they were occurring in a comic strip world and over time, there is at least one person that is stealing words from comic strip balloons, sometimes until the speech balloons are actually empty. The detail is fairly logical (in the order of sentences and descriptions in my story) with my writing not distorted (at least in grammar or spelling) but I do not recall my story that well. One scenario has someone using a bullhorn to somehow “protect” his speech balloon or make it “stronger” but that does not work.

After awhile, the person actually starts taking the entire speech balloons with some sort of walking-cane-like hook, similar to the Vaudeville gag where a giant hook removes people from the stage. He stores them in a locked otherwise empty room somewhere, stacking them against the wall like small sheets of plywood. It seems I have some illustrations (done by another student possibly or perhaps from a school textbook as an ELA writing prompt) that helps me enhance my story. The illustrations are taped to the top of a few of the five different pages, and every other page.

I am concerned about finishing the story, but I focus more in-dream and seemingly finish it. I do not awake feeling tired, either, regardless of my in-dream focus required to actually write without it changing when looking back. The teacher stays in the classroom for the most part but we do not talk to each other much.

The image that came up via Google was quite suitable but I probably would not tag it as precognitive (or in this case the term would be postcognitive since the drawing already existed).

This dream seems to primarily be about my perspective of certain aspects of mainstream society (especially the televised media and pop culture); comic-strip-like, with much of what people say worthy only of being “pulled off the stage” as in Vaudeville.

Morning of November 17, 2014. Monday.



My family and I have apparently partly moved into what seems to be the second floor of a large apartment building. However, this does not seem to be final, as it seems we still need to be “approved” again as a final step (which does not really make sense as we are already living there and had been for perhaps a week). There seem to be two unknown women who own the building.

I am in the main living room but there are also strange visitors from other apartments with us for some reason. One of them is the infamous YouTube conspiracy theorist VH from Kentucky. Another seems to be the heavyset male who makes a brief appearance in “The Butterfly Room” when he shouts up at whom he thinks is the tenant. Another may be the delusional alcoholic I knew in La Crosse who was always talking about prairie dogs coming out of mirrors. A couple others are also very unusual characters, but unfamiliar.

Interestingly, I seem to be okay with these people for a time. However, VH eventually starts playing around with a cigarette lighter to “illustrate” some sort of point he is trying to make about something. I grab him and the lighter. I press his face down near the corner of a bed and have control of where the fire from the lighter goes. I am, using telekinesis, spreading the fire over VH’s face and upper body while yelling at him - but it does not kill him and I am able to not only stop other things from burning up completely (such as the bed sheet) but also restore it as the fire moves across it each time. No larger fire occurs and the flames do not get out of my control. The precision with which I control it is quite interesting though I am not lucid. Finally, I just tell everyone to leave and never come back.

Around this time, the owners come in. They do not seem to appreciate the ruckus I caused. I ask her if she knows who VH is and soon tell her about him. It still seems we will be living there. We look at an empty room that has new, attractive veneer everywhere, including areas of the wall and on tall cabinets. It almost seems as if I had done this recently (though I do not remember doing so), as the woman does not seem to know about it, though it remains a mystery.

She asks me if I will be okay with the noise in living here, indicating that people come and go and walk through the main halls at all hours of the day and night. I tell her how I am used to living in such buildings (which is not true at all - I only lived in a smaller apartment building over a tavern around the age of five, not counting the usually quiet residential boarding house as a young adult). I think about people making noise in the hall and slamming doors in the middle of the night, but this is the only place available at the time, apparently, so I accept the situation.

In reality, I had never “flamed“ VH on YouTube as many others have, though I have not seen any of his videos in a long time. I am mostly learning to ignore people on the Internet with Narcissistic Personality Disorder, regardless of how abusive these people are and their continuous need to manufacture drama while playing the victim.

Morning of November 15, 2014. Saturday.



An unknown male is present and doing something in our yard farther from our house. However, my wife and I seem to be living in a new variation of my sister’s Loomis Street house. The shed is oriented like the shed of our present home (perpendicular to our back door instead of in line with it as with the Loomis Street house) but our actual house is one house over from the shed (relative to the lot and due north) than it would be in reality. The land area (front, side, and backyards) is unrealistically large for a residential urban area, though my dream also features the alley through Loomis Street, but missing many other features, the houses being much farther away from each other in the neighborhood than in reality (likely reflecting my dislike of living in populated areas).

I investigate and become annoyed that the man seems to be cutting down a very large and old tree which had grown very close to the shed (but without the tree having damaged the shed in any way). However, when I look more closely, I see that the tree is already completely gone and he is trying to fix the eaves by separating a small piece of wood attached near the roof. At first, I think of punching or hurting him somehow, as I feel he is doing damage to our home and invading our privacy (common dream theme). This is all going on to my left. My wife appears and does not like this stranger being near our home. Somehow, I find myself holding five swords of various styles and hand one to the man with a very vague awareness that he may hurt me, though he does not. Instead, he uses the sword to chop away the extraneous piece of wood from the eaves of the shed.

Somehow, the concept of using swords to chop down trees or “chisel” extraneous parts of buildings seems a bit “off” but I do not realize I am dreaming. Swords have seemingly held slightly different meanings, but other than assumed spiritual protection, I think in each case that it is related to severing any residual ties or more prevalent memories with someone relative to family, in this case, a brother-in-law, as the Loomis Street shed is a representation of him for the most part.

This may relate to my frustration of my brother-in-law being illiterate and needing someone to help him (with documents and such) after my sister died (in the USA), which resulted in a lot of my family photos and most of his wife’s (my sister’s) belongings and such being discarded with no consideration for anyone else in the family.

Morning of November 14, 2014. Friday.



I have not had a more direct volcano dream like this in quite some time. It is partly due to having reviewed a childhood volcano dream with new research and notes. It was very long; so long, in fact, it seemed of the type with several partial awakenings (no false awakenings) in between similar or repeating scenes. The location is an ambiguous composite; the front of our house and surrounding area seemed to be mostly the front yard and outside perspective of King Street in La Crosse (with the perpendicular Tenth Street also implied), the inside of the house mostly like Stadcor Street in Brisbane (except closer to ground level and with the porch of our present home), and the back area of the house being of my family home in Cubitis.

Assuming the outside orientation as King Street (as the house composite is too diverse to correctly assign directions), the volcanic threat is several blocks to the east. It is not one volcano, though, but some sort of wide fissure that is volcano-like and nearly world-wide. Over time, more and more lava is nearing our home. I am frustrated over this potential, because many of our possessions will be lost as we need to leave within about an hour or so without having any method of transportation. I “remember” that there are at least four stacks of larger dream journals under one bed near an eastern wall and do not like the prospect of losing them. I rarely dream about dream journals (other than in typical false awakenings where I attempt to write out the previous dream), and this is mostly a later sparse trend.

At one point, my dream goes off on a somewhat comedic tangent. For some reason, because of the “end of the world” scenario, all television shows have to become part of a rushed composite (something to do with only one television studio being left, it seems). Columbo appears at one point as he looked in the early 1980s. Magnum PI had been there as well (and is working with Columbo) but was off to see a different group of people and McCloud had also made an appearance. I make some sort of remark about Hawaii being the only place that will still exist after the volcanic activity eventually ceases, which seems to be where we need to go.

When the lava nears, there is some sort of shallow crevice just east of our house, whereby most of the lava is then flowing into it just in line with that outer wall of the house. This is good, but I still wonder if the back area of the house (which is of Cubitis) has the crevice extended that far (in this case the directional orientation also matches the King Street setting of the composite in the back area being to the south). I get an idea that the lava may actually come through the small high window of the Cubitis bathroom. I am even aware of lava coming through the other areas just prior to stopping, which do result in damaging my journals and other possessions on that side of the house.

Lava is still flowing westward, but more over the streets. Still, it looks as if my family and I need to get on a multicolored Persian rug (about the size of a “magic carpet”) to either use the rug as a raft (not realistically feasible at all of course) or somehow be airlifted. Some sort of small remote-controlled helicopter-like device lands on the rug (I believe, thanks to Columbo). By that point, I am trying to reason out how it is unlikely to use a rug as a raft. Also, the idea of being lifted by a miniature helicopter whereby the rug stays solid or flat somehow does not seem possible. Still, the rug seems raft-like for the most part as we float on the “lava” which is now mostly like harmless red water for the most part. There is a point, however, where my youngest son is on the raft on his own and it “capsizes” but he is okay, as it flips over the second time.

Eventually, everything is suddenly frozen over and I feel the typical physical and emotional bliss when ice and wintry features occur in a dream. Instead of the watery waist-high “lava”, there is now an icy stream with small ice floes moving westward over King Street. My family and I walk westerly on the seemingly undamaged sidewalk. A very “familiar” (but unknown in reality) male is walking towards us and was apparently on his way to check on us (which he openly comments on). He seems to be some sort of legal adviser or business persona but similar to a landlord we had in Brisbane (Stadcor Street). He is very happy to see we are okay. Through some sort of smaller bay window, an unknown woman looks out with somewhat of a strange near-horrified expression as we pass and the friendly male tells her that she is safe. (This female’s expression near my dream’s end, along with the “red water” and the potential of a rug to roll up around a person, was likely borrowed from “The Butterfly Room”, seen the night before.)

I had just written more about the childhood (Paricutin) volcano dream and one possible connection being growth and change and that is the same theme “The Butterfly Room” explores, also linking with the obvious metaphor relative to a female maturing. The childhood volcano dreams are not likely of the same association as the later ones, as I was ignorant of how females matured in that regard. However, this entire scenario could be seen as either incidental or the usual synchronicity regarding my dream work and unexpected upcoming movies I see. It also caused me to reflect on how the movie had no presence of authority of any kind, with my dream being of the opposite comedic nature.

As mentioned in other entries, there are four meanings for volcanoes in my dreams, depending on the nature of the dream; the human heart (the lava being the blood); female maturity (the lava also relating to blood); sexual tension or intensification; and development of something new and unexpected (not necessarily negative).

Morning of November 5, 2014. Wednesday.



This is one of those impersonal dreams where I am seemingly not a part of the dream itself. I am not disembodied - or invisible while in physical form either, just not seen by the other characters (or impressed by them in any way either).

There is a setup for a new (fictional) reality show. Somehow, the people that the focus is on in each episode will supposedly never learn of what had happened regarding the show’s involvement or even that the show exists, which does not seem possible unless the show is only broadcast in certain regions outside of where each featured character lives, but even then, it seems unlikely (of course, this being a dream, such logic is moot).

In the episode in-dream, an older man had been looking for gold in a certain region in a desert for a long time. The idea of the television show is for the producers to give a person what they had been looking for in an indirect way. In this case, the show’s producer pretends that they have found the gold the man was looking for but that it is rightfully his, yet it is all a precise setup.

A ghost town that exists on the side of a mountain near a cliff is rigged so that it will explode and scatter the gold that the producers had placed there. The man is notified after this event. Prior to the next televised scene, I notice that there are also a large amount of collectible comic books as well as valuable stamps in display pages covered by transparent sheets. I am not sure why these are a part of the scene as the older man was apparently only interested in finding his gold, the idea of which he had heard many stories about throughout his life. Although the man had apparently searched the ghost town before, the producers explain that explosions of unknown cause (perhaps old unstable dynamite going off) had somehow caused the gold to be uncovered. The man seems to believe this.

He picks up a piece of gold from many other pieces that are spread all about the landscape in a blast aftermath pattern but he seems disappointed and perhaps thinks it is fool’s gold. It seems to be like pieces of gold foil around white chalk, which comes off easily, like a loose “skin”. However, it is later revealed that the man had asked another source about the value and the gold there is apparently far more valuable than he had thought, even more valuable than “normal” gold. However, it is possible that this was an additional setup by the television producers and the “gold” may not be worth anything. It is even possible that the money the man gets for the (possibly worthless) “gold” is through an arrangement of the television producers rather than a real buyer, all without the man’s knowledge of such.

Somehow, this seems to be some sort of play about how television is not what it seems and provides only false “values” and trickery. From false histories and fake and often impossible scenarios regarding almost every product advertised (and wrongly worded affirmations in PSAs that sometimes project the opposite “message”), it sometimes seems such a waste, it really is like “fool’s gold”.

Morning of November 4, 2014. Tuesday.



I seem to be much younger and living with my mother (who died years ago). The house seems somewhat of a variation of the house in Brisbane on Stadcor Street, though I am not sure of the country or state, perhaps Florida again. It seems she is also watching someone else’s kids, at least two (unfamiliar) girls. Over time, there is a total lack of cohesion in any potential plot or focus. Several dream scenes repeat several times with only a small awareness of repetition while in the dream.

One event relates to having a large bowl of cereal. (The kitchen seems to be where the main bedroom was if assuming the Stadcor Street house and what would be the kitchen is the main bedroom, though not precisely mirrored as is common in some dreams.) I get what I assume is cereal (Wheat Chex or something similar), pour it in a bowl, and then pour milk on it. At first, it seems to be normal cereal. After a time, though, I notice that there are very small pieces of meat (steak), onion, and carrots in the mix. I particularly notice the onion spirals and the distinct flavor within the milk. It seems a bit “wrong” at first, but then I consider that it is just a different type of meal and eat it anyway (especially as I do not want to waste it). (On a side note, eating and actually tasting food such as within this dream is not that common for me. In fact, for me, food dreams are the least common of all.)

At one point, I am making a beverage, which I believe is an atypical mocaccino. For some reason, the drink changes colors from a darker to lighter brown. There is also some sort of flavor packet that puts red particles in the drink (similar to very small flakes of chocolate), which do not dissolve. I get the strong impression that drinking it will give me freckles (which I have never had in real life), which is not necessarily a bad thing. For a very short time, I contemplate looking in the mirror to see if the mocaccino gave me freckles. However, that thought quickly fades and this entire dream scenario repeats at least three more times in the same order.