Blue_Opossum

Morning of November 1, 2014. Saturday.



There were mostly shifting scenes that did not have that much of a relationship to my personal thoughts.

The most unusual one was of being some sort of entity that was “haunting” a museum and getting into a struggle with another being, flying around and such. The battle is not that intense. The museum curator comes out and seems quite annoyed. Apparently there are living quarters in one section of the museum. I feel a bit guilty about any damage that was done in the struggle with the other being. I go to him and somehow materialize several agates from out of the palm of my hand to give to him. I explain how one of them is special, partly made of an unknown compound and supposedly worth millions of dollars. It is white, slightly transparent and with darker blue markings. The other ones are all different from each other as well.

In another scene, I am doing something on an Internet site but it stops working correctly and gives a message about too much traffic. This happens at least twice. Another page comes up and tells me that something is ready to be sent to my system, which is some sort of 3-D printing regarding bookmarks, wall hangings, and pennants with sayings I typed in as well as a few with comedic images. After a time, there are also several windup cars. They look similar to the Japanese plastic models we had years ago but have a more unusual design that makes them look less car-like in body. One seems to have the magnified and exposed “book lungs of a spider” on each side. Apparently you can design anything and have it made via the website although there are templates to choose from and basic guidelines.

For a time, I wind them up and they go through the doorway and through the hall to the other side of the house (which is mostly an unfamiliar location), fairly fast and at a good distance. My two youngest sons seem mildly interested in them. The feelings and focus of winding them up (the windup device being on the bottom and towards the back) seems very realistic and vivid, even the resistance when turning it a few times, as the spiral spring gets tighter.

There is a scene where I am walking through a dark room and something larger seems to fly in my hair a couple times as I swing my arm around, but nothing makes contact with my hand. Later, my wife seems startled by two large geckos on the wall. They are quite large for house geckos though and I am thinking that they are a different sort of lizard. One follows the other with the exact same movements.

In another scene, I go outside to work on my computer near the front of the house yet I do not think it strange for it to be outside set up in an external but inward corner of the house at an L-shaped desk. It is a bit bright outside, and I hear the noise of distant traffic, but this is apparently my actual setup. A jet flies in the sky more to the horizon, making a distorted figure-eight shape with its contrails. There is a vague idea about the potential of it crashing nearby but nothing happens. I have an odd thought about the potential for the world ending and how I would be outside to see it when it happened. It is not a negative thought, just a minor realization. I feel relaxed and well.

Morning of October 30, 2014. Thursday.



A young goddess appears and speaks like a younger version of my wife at one point. I am distracted from my heightened lucidity in an amusing sense although I “absorb” the typically breathtaking beauty of this state. A yellow but “human” monster stands in a doorway with a knife raised and growling. Behind him are nighttime, rain, and sparse flashes of lightning. This is a “parallel” dream, a typical scene when having two or more dreams at the exact same time. “Don’t even go there,” says the goddess/wife/tulpa/entity quite clearly and telepathically.

Still, I do decide to “go there” at least three times as I am still in “her” dream at the same time. It dawns on me that this scene of the human monster in the doorway is quite pathetic and non-threatening. I amusingly perceive it as a “deleted scene” from a DVD (where the monster never even appeared at any point in the movie in faux “reality”) and feel a strange subtle hilarity yet almost feel sorry for this creature who never got a chance to be seen by people. Eventually, I feel the growing energy of the goddess-like presence. I go back to the first dream (of extremely heightened depth perception), which, since earliest memory, I become fascinated with the thin strands of hair and the sense of very slight, almost barely perceptible movement. But it is there. I catch it. I enjoy my ability to see the “life” there even though the movement is caused by a very soft motion of air. The “light” energies of this beauty move through me. I am not disembodied as such but feel I am floating.

In a typically skewed awareness, I believe I am looking at very small cracks in her skin, but then I realize that I am looking at slightly damp single hairs across her back. This is not a new perspective though and continues as the usual “oh that’s right” moment.

The “monster in the doorway” had come from looking past her, from looking between a few strands of her hair hanging down and into the “other dream”. Perhaps in the environment beyond, businessmen are running in alarm, forgetting their briefcases. I try to focus on if such a scenario is there behind her, but there is only the mirage-like “wavering” of slightly magnified and “deep” visuals.

The visuals invert and her hair becomes “hollow” and everything is “engraved” into the background (such as with the mask illusion). I first experienced this altered perception in my twenties, where a door to a house across the street seemed to invert and become very close to me, but as some sort of “tunnel”. Three-dimensional inversion is a strange thing that you cannot undo with the mask illusion (although you can with the staircase effect and the cube drawn with lines and such but not so much direct at will).

Finally, I see a section of her hair invert and form what is supposedly the “human power” symbol from this other “world”, almost like some sort of insignificant debris in the background. However, this “human power” symbol, which is “drawn” with “heavier lines” and looks like a raised fist, only displays two fingers; the left pinky and the left ring finger (the two fingers that were the hardest for me to mentally “rewire” as a toddler). I reason that this makes sense, because people do not really have much power or control in the “higher realms” (unless years of practice are implemented). In a way, I wonder why there would be any symbol for humanity at all in the “higher” layers - something as odd and “unnatural” as seeing a human statue inside an anthill tunnel and greeted with friendly associations, or a group of snakes welcoming people into a forest - “Sorry Mister Snake, for stepping on you” and the snake says “That’s okay, come and meet my brothers so you can step on them as well”. It seems “correct” to a point, though. I do a typical wall-tapping (which is some sort of composite of brick and chalkboard - something I have seen before in-dream) with all fingers in a claw-like form and meet strong solid resistance as I tap about four times…yet I do not have to walk through this wall. Instead, I turn around and walk out of the dream from the “forward opening” of my “mind’s eye”, which is always there.

Morning of October 30, 2014. Thursday.



There is a shorter dream of confusion between “volunteers” and “fallen tears”. At first, it seems to be a group of high school students who go by the name “Fallen Tears” but then I realize they are just saying “volunteers”. Their main role seems to be repairing the houses of people who live in poor neighborhoods as well as possibly finding food for them (even foraging).

Morning of October 30, 2014. Thursday.



In my dream, I am in a large (unknown building and unknown town) public room somewhere, seemingly some sort of library or library-like setting. I have torn two pages out of a large reference book - which does not seem to be an unapproved or destructive act for whatever reason. On one page is a longer list of data (somewhat like more detailed telephone listings and such) relating to several different otherwise unrelated things in about three grouped sections on the page, which I find somewhat curious. There is data about Sarasota (Florida), Brisbane, and some other listings related to my own life all on one page, which seems very conveniently coincidental (though it does not trigger lucidity). An older female (about ten years older than me or more) informs me about a need to pay a small fee for any more time I take in searching for more data but I tell her I have already found what I wanted, yet for some reason, put the two pages back and leave the book on a public counter. There is a vague idea about leaving the book complete for the benefit of others that use it.

A little later, she comes over near the center of the room and asks me about some work I did, apparently in 1979, which related to all the computer programs I supposedly wrote - up to and through that year (the unlikely year for home computers does not trigger lucidity either). She asks me if I think it will work on a modern system (meaning her computer at her private residence, it seems). She says that all my work is in a COM file (rather than an archive such as ZIP or ARC), called 79.COM, which does not sound right, because a COM file is an executable so more than one would need to be in an archive with the others. I reflect on the idea that everything everyone ever did on any computer, telephone, or even wrote on paper, and so on (possibly even including graffiti), is now stored in various files (by this federal government library or whatever it is) relating directly to the person’s identity. I do not see it as an affront; it just seems to be a curious fact and other members of the public may be here to recover data that they thought they had lost. I am thinking about the compatibility of the supposed work and if it will work on Windows 97 (as opposed to the fictional Windows 79 it was apparently written for). I begin to wonder about the correctness of the numbers and try to recall the nature of the executable files. The scenario seems to symbolize the memory of the individual and how such “data” is stored “forever” even when a person often does not remember it.

Morning of October 30, 2014. Thursday.



My first dream of this date was related to several city council workers doing the opposite of what they were doing in reality around this time period. In reality, they were fixing the street outside our house very early in the morning. However, in my dream, they were across the street and removing a larger road that turned off from the main street. What is left is a somewhat marshy river, which I think is an improvement. However, I consider if it would be somewhat unsafe when going into town and going by the area and whether or not the baby might decide to investigate. Still, it is not that strong a concern and I reflect that it is better to have a river there than another road. My dream shifts a few times relative to the environmental change and where I am. At one point, it also seems there may be a fictional shopping mall north of us, on the west side of the street, just a bit farther than where the river enters the forest-like region, but sitting in the parking lot at one point seems to be a couple diggers and bulldozers. I am not sure of what other development may be going on, if any.

Morning of October 28, 2014. Tuesday.

Dream #: 17,480-02. Reading time: 1 min 20 sec.



I am in Cubitis. It seems to be around 1974, and I am about thirteen years old. The chicken shed is still a rabbit shed. We are going to be moving soon. (We did not move to Wisconsin until the last days of June of 1978.) There is a backstory regarding my unwillingness to accept our rabbits being sold (which seems to imply that we cannot move until we sell the business).

I am in our rabbit shed and see a man and woman in their thirties. They are possibly going to buy most or all of our rabbits. They are in the west area of our shed (that is bigger in my dream) as if I am on the set of a television studio news broadcast, even though I am only talking to them on the telephone.

There is an unseen presence of which I am unsure. It seems to be an older version of me or representing a narrator of my dream. I am told to act as if I am incompetent. As I talk to the buyers, I pretend to stutter and stop in the middle of sentences. I invent false scenarios about our rabbits and our shed. Still, they do not seem to be discouraged from buying. I talk about how mice mix with our rabbits. It seems to be one of the most ridiculous and off-putting things I can say. Eventually (through the uncovered lower area of the shed, between the columns), I notice rabbits hopping around outside and decide to go to the backyard after declaring that all of them are escaping, so there will not be any for them to buy.

I see my father, but I do not recall he died years ago. The physical orientation I feel is quite vivid at this point. From here, I enter the typical sensual stage of encountering a younger version of my wife and indulge in an embrace. In a false awakening of lesser vividness, I tell Zsuzsanna about this dream.

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Morning of October 24, 2014. Friday.

Dream #: 17,476-04. Reading time (optimized): 1 min.



I am in a dream-rendered alternate version of Cubitis, likely in 1974. The school bus has stopped at the next-door neighbor’s house. Instead of getting on it, I walk northeast and end up in a jungle. (The area was mostly cow pastures and orange groves in reality.)

I fly to evade black and dark green giant snakes that follow me as I go back around on a meandering semicircular journey, mostly southwest. I get the impression at times as I am nearing a regional barrier between two worlds that the snakes can swim through the air. The scenario resets to repeat at least three times. Each time, I am also eventually able to focus and wave my hand to cause the snakes to fall back and stay in their territory.

There is something about letters being sent to the wrong people, though that is straightened out (not by conventional means but dream state mental processing that resolves it). Zsuzsanna is here in Cubitis, the distant past and present mixed in the typical erroneous composite.

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(There are times when I was able to correlate snakes with stomach discomfort or the state of the digestive system. There are associations with human intestines because of similar shape and their coiling.)

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Eluding the flying snakes while I am in flight could stem from my subliminal anticipation of the back spasm I experience in specific states of sleep. I can control them at times, though not typically. Their cause stems from a distinct awareness of liminal space.

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Morning of October 24, 2014. Friday.



This is the third vivid dream in a row where I had eventual unlimited control of the dream yet was not lucid at all, just in control of the dream’s scenario while expressing endless “ability”.

My family and I are living back in the old large Barolin Street house (which was moved in reality - and my family was actually endangered by people throwing rocks at the assumed empty place a few times and we also had visits from wayward backpackers looking for an empty free place to sleep, all due to a misleading large sign nailed on our fence). Over time, in my dream, two male workers show up in the backyard and are apparently there to refurbish the place. My wife and children are not home when they begin their work. One male talks to me from the roof of the shed for a short time on two occasions.

As time passes, I realize they are destroying parts of the house, including the back closed porch, before they intend to rebuild much of it. I did not realize that this was the plan - it is very imposing and potentially dangerous. I am also aware that we still have all our possessions in the house and I think about how annoying it would be should I have to dig through the remains of the soon-to-be demolished house to find everything. They have a wrecking crane in the backyard and at one point, I run into the house as it smashes much of the back of the house but I am not directly threatened, though parts of the ceiling fall farther back behind me. In fact, the younger male has to run out of the way at times as well.

I go back to where the two men are. They seem somewhat cheerful, but I grow more and more annoyed. I angrily “order” them to replace the roof and fix what they have damaged, as I have decided that this will not be happening. They look at me curiously and I make cursing comments about the mental stability of the property owner. One male is more burly than the other, their ages seeming around thirty-something and twenty-something. He starts making rather absurd anti-family (and anti-relationship) comments - as if two people in a relationship and with a family and children is “wrong”. He then complains about me getting unemployment money, which is incorrect (though it does not dawn on me in-dream for some reason), as I have not gotten unemployment or any similar payments, including once in America when I was injured and the plant manager changed the details to the company’s benefit (a typical farce which I did not contest).

Though he is a bit bigger and more muscular than me, I still manage to punch him twice in quick succession and knock him back over what is left of the back steps. I tell him that I will do it. I wave my hands and focus on what I want and the damage to the house starts to reverse. The previously destroyed extended back roof and its foundation starts to join together and it goes back up, all the pieces floating in midair and eventually aligning in a stronger form than before. Parts of the exterior walls come back together and go back up to restore the structure, yet also improve it. I walk under the restored roof, looking up, seeing that it is more heavy and complex than before, with steel brackets. It is still joining together at this point as I walk under it, but I do not feel at risk as I had in similar in-dream scenarios in the past, even though it would crush me if it fell.

The older male (still lying on his back but now recovering) looks at me in awe and frustration and says something like, “You mean you just sit here in this house with your family when you can just wave your hands and do anything you want?" I am not sure how to respond (this may be a play on how my supposed intelligence stays "invisible” to the majority - though the “invisibility” seems to work “automatically” as well - though I am still not sure of the “Source”), but I do not want them back at any point. Marrying my beautiful dream girl and having a family, after all, was what I wanted in reality since earliest memory. Looking at the two stunned men, I do not know what else I could possibly want…except to be away from infantile mainstream philosophy and the infinitely irritating dominant culture.

Morning of October 23, 2014. Thursday.



My dream becomes more vivid with each stage but never lucid. In the first part, I have a smaller rectangular mirror of which is a little bigger than that of a medicine cabinet’s. My family and I are living at an unknown location. I have a confident awareness that mirrors and photographs (and ultimately any plane’s surface) can be “entered” depending on the extent of focus and will. I hold up my mirror which later seems to be a photograph or print, though the image seems to change from my perspective depending on the angle I hold it. It seems to mostly show features of an empty room, though I sometimes perceive that it is reflecting the ceiling or walls of the room I am in. I attempt to put my right hand into (and beyond) its surface to see if my hand will move through it as an implied glass “portal” but it seems solid as my fingers press against the surface. My two youngest sons watch at times.

At one point, as I am holding up my mirror, a small dog sticks its head a short distance from out of the two-dimensional plane from “inside” it (becoming three-dimensional past the threshold, just past its neck) and barks a bit as if it is confused or perhaps feels threatened. It soon vanishes and I get the impression that it may have somehow gotten out and is inside the sofa or in the room somewhere, though I do not see it again.

Later, I seem to be rescuing people at some sort of unrealistically dangerous workplace in a commercial building. However, one person dies from a fall over a mezzanine as I am saving someone else from a fall down an elevator shaft. It seems that people are continuously accident-prone at the location, but the manager thanks me for the people I do save.

I eventually find myself in another unknown location, though I get the sense I live in the area with my family. I am at the house of an unfamiliar neighbor; an older black woman who is talking about other people in the neighborhood, which seems to be adjacent to a long wide road. I am unsure of the implied city or country, though the house seems to be partly modeled after my older brother Earl’s previous home on Saint Cloud Street in America. A few other unfamiliar people show up. An unfamiliar Caucasian woman thinks I have special abilities, which is related to the first scenario, where plane surfaces can supposedly be “entered” and “explored”. She has a mirror and asks me if I am able to put my hand into it. I attempt it a couple times but it does not work, as my fingers merely press hard against the surface. However, I relax and notice that the mirror is somehow reflecting silverware and dishes as if I am looking down at them. Perhaps the image is somehow reflected from another area of the house. It seems to be like a rectangular silver serving tray at this point.

I am able to feel my way into the “mirror” and pull out a large silver fork and hold it up. I start to reshape it into a three-dimensional Picasso-like figure. I mentally stretch it in a semi-circular motion as it floats in midair. At one point, small silver “threads” seem to be pulled out, to create additional detail when swept back over the piece. I give the silver figure to a random person in the house and the woman with the “mirror” faints from being astounded, falling near my right, near the end of the sofa.

Another person has a van Gogh self-portrait print, which is about the same size as the previous “mirror”. I let my hands move into the surface and I start to pull out a small human figure made of various small pieces of felt, which have intricate detail, including the blue clothes and yellow hat. It is somewhat like a miniature rag doll or unstrung marionette, but more like a work of real art, with the “same” essence as the painting, yet also more “complete”. I know that I will give this to another person in the room. My dream starts to fade, though it is very vivid at this point (though I am still not lucid). The potential for creating three-dimensional art from pulling it out of two-dimensional “realms” seems endless.

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This dream is all about subliminal control of the dream state and because of that obvious factor, is unrelated to my waking life other than aspects being borrowed for the autosymbolic sequences. For example, the fainting woman is a known dynamic of signifying Zsuzsanna waking up and getting out of bed, thus leaving the realm of dreams (and it is similar to the common presence of The Sleeper as a first-level dream state indicator). She sleeps on my left and appears on my left in dreams when she is sleeping, but on my right if she is awake (which validates that a part of myself is always subliminally aware of being in the dream state, lucid or not). This is based on waking symbolism being oriented to the right, as my left side is less exposed to the environment in sleep (though people who do not understand dreams or the dream state will typically try to attribute it to a myth or what left or right “means”).

The association with the mirror as a portal as well as the ambiguous association with it being as a serving tray reveals my intent of using the essence of liminal space (the transpersonal dynamics between dreaming and waking) to serve my intent in having full control of the dream state. As with a wall, a doorway, a fence, curtains, and other features, a mirror is a specific kind of liminal space divider that represents the division between the limited fictitious essence of the dream self and the conscious self identity. (However, a mirror will usually present a false view of the dream self when looked into, because it will typically display the illusory dream self, not the true conscious self identity. The only exceptions for me includes one dream in which I perceived my reflection as Zsuzsanna, though this was just before we met in real life, and another dream where I seemed to be seeing a much older Zsuzsanna as my reflection more recently.)

The rest of this dream is based on other common factors of the dream state itself. The scene with me rescuing people from falling is based on the waking start itself and developing control of the preconscious state, of which validates the other segments of my dream as such, with the same overall intent of mastering liminal space (unrelated to waking life as it is wholly based on the nature of exploring dreams, both lucidly and non-lucidly). This includes the dog coming out from liminal space, as a dog represents obedience to the dream self as sustaining and controlling my dream and is why dog attack dreams were more common during my development of apex lucidity before I began to have control even in non-lucid dreams.

My dream had a very positive presence and even seemed to increase my well-being.

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Morning of October 20, 2014. Monday.



In my first dream, for some inexplicable reason, a new “MacGyver” television series is produced. Somehow, a younger Carol Burnett (around 40 or so in contrast to her present age of 81) plays MacGyver. After the first episode airs, I read a review in which it is said that she is “too polite” as the new MacGyver. The dream seems fairly long but I do not remember the overall plot of the in-dream show.

My next dream is even more ridiculous. Dean Norris is the only recognizable celebrity in the “movie” although this time it is like a “real” setup on scene, which seems to be the porch of either the Barolin Street house or Loomis Street, or a composite of both and it seems later at night or before dawn. Even though there seems to be a (fictional, likely science-fiction) movie in progress, the people in it are somehow actually miniature, only about four inches tall. I am there watching and so is my wife. I guess we have something to do with the filming. The miniature people have to contend with “giant” cane toads, about five of them in different areas of the porch. There is a dramatic scene where Dean Norris gets hold of a (miniature) gun (taking it from someone else, I think) and shoots most of the “giant” cane toads. The camera zooms in on him when he is in a group of people standing around (in what seems somewhat like a bank queue) with some sort of suspenseful music playing.

Near the end, only four miniature people are left. I watch them walk south over the area where railroad tracks used to be in my Cubitis backyard, there being a lot more shrubs and various larger weeds, other than the somewhat sandy “path” left over from where the tracks mainly sat. This is unusual only in that I normally become fully lucid when I see miniature people, but here, I do not. Looking down, I watch them travel from my left to my right as they waddle along. There is a vague sense of the concept of elves, but they are “ordinary” people other than having been shrunken somehow.

In one other dream, I am trying to read the comic strips in a newspaper, but the paper is transparent so that the comic strips on the other side (of at least two pages) are blended (in reverse imagery) to the ones on the side intended for reading (similar to when you hold a page up against a brighter light) so that the page is an ambiguous composite of normal and mirror-imaged comic strips layered together.

The dream turned out to have the usual trivial short-term precognitive layer (this time relative, as usual, to something regarding precise style, movement, etc. in terms of expectation - why it always seems so obvious and stands out as such makes me wonder what is going on with the rest of humanity in not noticing this in their own lives - particularly as such layers stand out as more defined when looking back with almost every single dream). I have always been interested in the hows and whys, ultimately, especially regarding why the events are often so trivial, although usually reflecting (in a precognitive sense) the “most unusual” aspect of waking life within a particular time. “Normal” humanity baffles me, and this (continuous trivial and impersonal precognition, yet its being so precise) is the main reason why.

Morning of October 20, 2014. Monday.



This dream was a “realistic” continuation (at least in viable meaning and metaphorical form) of a real-life event. I had read the rant of a typical unsuccessful-at-life “normal” person, but more aggressive and “anti-dream-work” than many. This was a post on a web site that listed dream journal sites and such. His rant related to how no one ever mentions dreams in “polite society”, to anyone (including friends and relatives) and how they were only a mish-mash of recent events that the brain had not processed yet that day (typical mindless mainstream opinion, in other words). He also mentioned how paying the slightest attention to dreams (or trying to work out meaning) was “masturbatory” and damaging. Such a person being as utterly “alien” (even more than most other mainstream people) as possible to my own life’s path and continuous vindication since early childhood was rather intriguing but it flowed into a dream scenario that reflected sadness.

I saw the person (even though I did not know anything of his/her appearance) walking along in a similar manner as the Penguin (from the new “Gotham” television series). Eventually though, I become aware that he has transformed (or had “always been”) an unhatched egg. The unhatched egg has a slight crack (as if in an attempt to hatch), and moves slightly, but the movement stops after a short time. I place the egg to my ear and hear white noise, similar to the noise of a television channel being off the station on an analogue television. It then grows silent as if the entity inside has died. It has never bothered me that people live in an entirely different “world” than the reality I have lived in my life’s path but what does give me pause is when someone is so much “against” the viable reality of another relative to the real personal history. Their spirit seems to be both imploding and exploding at the same time, for lack of a better metaphor.

I place the egg on a shelf (about chest-level) in a seemingly forgotten room where many other “artifacts” exist. I am aware that there is a brightly glowing ruby nearby (on a perpendicular shelf to this one) which is an aspect of my wife. There are other items that seem to represent different “species” of otherwise assumed human-like beings, such as a small burned clown mask that represents the dream dictionary reader and a miniature electric fan blowing on a candle that somehow seems to represent reckless drivers. The sadness of the “dead egg” is not that extensive, and I sense that there is a place for everything, including frequencies exactly the opposite in both polarity and direction. In a way, I am infinitely grateful I am a “rare” dream-worker, as it has seemingly put me so far ahead of “other species” (especially in meeting and marrying my beautiful dream girl or “twin flame” in the real world). It is a typical thought in this type of dream, but there is an expectation that some artifacts may change in a millennia, though people may no longer be around to see any changes.

Morning of October 19, 2014. Sunday.



Once again, my family and I are living in Cubitis though the house is different on the inside. I see that the front yard is mostly the same, but when I look out, while apparently resting in bed, I see an older green station wagon (late 60s Ford Torino) parked in the yard, looking a bit in need of a wash, directly facing the house and near the third silver oak. I am wary of this, because I do not know who it might belong to.

Within a short time, it turns out to be a very wealthy celebrity couple, although I presently cannot name him or his wife. He may be Jack Gilford as he was when around age forty, though I get more of a sense of a more serious visage, almost James-Bond-like. They sit down on chairs in our living room. Apparently, it is nearing Christmas and they have brought a gift for my wife because she is supposedly a relative. They do not seem to feel out-of-place in my smaller childhood home. In fact, they comment on how quaint it is in a non-sarcastic manner almost as if they are thinking of getting such a place to live. The package they give to my wife is shiny and blue and I get the impression that it may be a ballroom gown, but she does not open it before I wake. It is fairly large but light-weight.

The very wealthy movie stars do not expect a gift, it seems, and they are making their trip a bit earlier than they normally do from what the man says, continuing south, I believe, before driving back to Hollywood after delivering all their gifts. I am not sure how they are related to my wife (she comes mostly from Hungarian Roma people). In fact, they are not certain either. We even talk about different family surnames as they are leaving, all beginning with “N” and stopping with an idea about the name of a sister’s neighbor from years ago (but altered somewhat) who I did not even know in reality, something like Nigh-gly in pronunciation, possibly a vague play on “nightly” (or a corruption of Nyíregyháza or even Nardia, similar to earlier name variations), though dreams often provide nonsense words and nonsense definitions to real words (as with my “Jacuzis are vampiric monsters” fiasco from years ago - though this is more likely to happen if one does not fully know the real definition and the dream invents an unlikely one).

Morning of October 18, 2014. Saturday.



These were typical “filler” dreams, I suppose; the type of dream that comes between more significant dreams.

It was also the typical fishing theme of a dream type that usually has the same overall aspects since early childhood (the “prototype” first occurring at age four; October 2, 1965 in La Crosse). This includes the facets of fishing with my brother-in-law Bob, the water getting lower over time until mostly all gone (with the water often being shallow as it is), about four adjoining fishing spots (at least one spot often being clearly with no fish), and sometimes the scene mysteriously changing from outside to inside.

In this one, I am fishing in an unknown location with my brother-in-law Bob and one other male I am not sure of the identity of at this time. I firstly catch a large northern pike with a treble hook. The two others do not catch anything. It is too difficult to get the hook out of the fish’s tough mouth but I somehow mentally will it out and then will it onto the stringer. The water is cold and will keep the fish fresh.

At one point, I find myself about ten feet above the ground and standing on a narrow ledge against some sort of edifice or possibly part of a commercial dam. It somehow seems that the ledge seemed wider at first. This seems problematic (and one could easily fall off simply by casting with too much forward momentum or enthusiasm), so I go back down to the ground. I go to a different area and notice that one location has no fish (which I conclude due to the clarity of the water down to the small lake bottom). After casting too far and getting a few snags in both rocks and plants on the other side of the small lake (both above and below the water’s surface), I manage to catch two more fish; two bluegills. The others have still not caught anything, but we have enough to eat for one smaller meal, it seems.

After time passes, it seems like the location is now somehow indoors. Most of the water has lowered to where it would be pointless to try to fish anymore. This common in-dream scenario likely simply relates to becoming more conscious (slowly waking) and little else (whereas more water relates to going “deeper” into the dream for me, often triggering lucidity where I then sometimes control the motions of the water), in addition to the logical slowly waking perspective of then being indoors where one actually is at the time. I think that a lot of in-dream transitions have nothing to do with supposed symbolism as much as they represent simply going from the dream into waking life and I have documented such obvious waking transitions thousands of times with hundreds of different representations of transition types - from larger boxes closing over smaller boxes (“closing up a subconscious facet” with more clarity and growing consciousness) to fruit growing rapidly (or “becoming more conscious and aware”) and stopping at the point of waking. In fact, even falling asleep in the past, I often started to hear the pleasant sound of water (as if from a small brook) in beginning hypnagogic audio.

In the next dream, which is fairly short, I am playing darts where Josh Holloway is present. (Josh Holloway, for some reason, is the only recent celebrity that appears with any regularity but he always has a different name though in this dream a name is not noticed.) One player puts his face near the board as a sort of challenge but I meet the challenge by not throwing a dart into his face and hitting the areas mostly near the center. The same person does not trust one of the other players as he had trusted me and moves away when the other person is up.

Looking back, the fishing dream was preceded by another dream related to fishing but involving my old classmates including David S (also a friend) and Wayne H and Bobby S. This one is rather odd in that we mostly only talk about going fishing on a particular day with mention of the weather being too problematic to do much. The dream focuses on a larger room full of beds, some in line with each other, some perpendicular to others. I spend most of the time washing blankets and sheets and being annoyed by how little a washing machine holds. I can only fit about two sheets in at a time when I have at least ten or more to wash for the next visit by the group.

The ledge scene in the first dream above is a vague in-dream replay of a scenario from “Cat’s Eye” (from 1985).

Morning of October 17, 2014. Friday.



In my first dream, I start to go out the back door into the backyard of our present home. Before I get outside, I notice, to my right, a long row of watermelons growing on an oversized watermelon plant. They are each about twice the size of a real one and also longer than normal. At first I am in awe about the overgrowth and wonder why they have not yet been picked or used. I then start to think about how we could live on them for a long time. They look very healthy and nutritious.

My above dream experience was seemingly triggered in a telepathic sense (for lack of a better term), as my wife saw a very large watermelon on a television show she had watched and not mentioned it to me at all. She said she had been wondering how they grew so big. This happens continuously from day to day though; that is - dreaming of something Zsuzsanna had been focused on but not told me about. There is, however, an interpretation at that level regardless of the other influences. It always relates to an interesting and complex very personal synchronicity.

In another dream, there is a foundry that is somewhat rundown but still in operation in an unknown town. Two unknown males are working at the time. They seem to be in a cheerful mood. There are numerous giant antlions (both larva and adult flying form) that come in, seemingly endless in number. They (the larvae) are each about the size of a watermelon. Many of them (mostly the larvae) end up falling into a deep shaft or deep vertical pipeline where they are apparently incinerated. The multitude of these giant insects does not seem that threatening a situation even though they seem to be all over the world. Their being trapped like this seems to be some sort of coordinated effort to decrease their population.

It is curious that both watermelons and antlions represent sensuality, the first in a positive life-enriching sense, the second in a negative sense regarding commitment (in fact, the main genus of antlion is Myrmeleon, an amusing but unintentional distorted play on “my melon”). Watermelons, with their round curves and pink flesh, are nourishing, while ants go so far and then are committed to their choice and cannot get away from their involvement no matter how much they tread ground. This is probably me contemplating how I see myself in contrast to society. I have had fulfilling sensuality most of my life, especially over the last twenty years, yet at some levels, see human society as an “infestation”, yet not without a “foundry” to reshape potential.

Morning of October 16, 2014. Thursday.



I have had kidnapping dreams since early childhood from various perspectives, including the rescue of Brenda W (as the precognitive wife-to-be “stand-in”) in the recurring “Patches” dream as well as escaping from a villainous Ricardo Montalbán by phasing and flying through the roof of a taxi in “My Little Cane”, but this one is atypical and quite vivid. In my dream, there is recent news of a child having vanished from her parents’ apartment on the third floor. Her name is Elly. (The name is seemingly unrelated to any real-life character though may possibly be a play on my wife’s middle name of Gabrielle or of our youngest daughter’s first name Isabelle.)

This is also one of the only dreams in my lifetime (especially in recent years) where I seemed to have a more discernible stronger fear to a point where it “reset” and had a replay. (Not only that, I woke up with my eyelids inside-out, which made my wife ask if I was okay. Of all the bizarre events I have lived through, that has not happened before to my knowledge.) This is not like the purposely instigated dinosaur-chase dreams (which I no longer have) but something quite different. I seem to be some sort of “medium” where I can pick up on someone else’s state of emotion. I “become” the apparently kidnapped girl at least in a sort of remote-viewing awareness. I strongly sense her feeling of being lost and away from her home. I clearly feel her vulnerability (as I believe she is only about three years old). It causes me to scream twice yet this is not “me”, it is the other entity within me and someone I may be able to help. The scream mostly comes from seemingly having my arm twisted too far around (when walking in a particular direction), which seems to be a fairly common fear of someone this age. (Most people seem to completely forget what it was like as a child, which seems odd to me, as I still am able to clearly remember the quite different size orientation and unusual perspective (compared to now) as well as how imposing, cruel, and obnoxious older people seem even when they do not mean to be.) I “recover” from that state and go for a walk. The scenario seems fairly convenient. I already see her older brother and an older sister in the area. (Her parents have a total of three children.) The area seems like a typical composite, seemingly with features of La Crosse and Brisbane mashed together ambiguously.

I go to the apartment to check out the location. I apparently have some sense of “detection” relative to the previous in-dream event, sort of like X-ray vision via my hands as I hold them up and about to use this ability. I can still “hear” her mood at times, but I think she is sleeping presently. I end up going about two blocks past the parents’ apartment into a different apartment building. On the second floor, I sense a presence. The environment itself seems to react to my intent. Oddly, a wheelbarrow is in the hall. The wheelbarrow actually stands upright on its handles, using its handles to walk about somewhat mechanically. It knocks against the door, seemingly “communicating” with me that this is where the girl is.

I go in without fear and notice a clutter near the door but am still able to get through. A Caucasian male is watching television. He is probably about forty, quite chubby and mostly balding, wearing a white tank top. I ask him where Elly is and he does not seem surprised. I also tell him that he would not believe the nature of how I found her, that is, until the wheelbarrow “walks” into the room on its handles. I am not sure of what sort of character this is and am not sure if the wheelbarrow will somehow “eat” him. It seems possible that the girl just wandered off, but I am ready to take her home at any rate. She does not seem hurt; just a bit frail and weak, sleeping. She has dark curly hair (similar to my wife’s).

I pick her up and when I go outside, carrying her, it begins to rain fairly heavily as I am walking, but the heavy, cold drops are rather sparse. The external walls of various buildings are to my left, but there are no awnings or extended roofs to take cover under. A few drops of cool rain fall on her face and start to revive her and she moans and blinks at the raindrops falling on her face. Her eyes are green and catlike (also like my wife’s). This part; imagery, orientation, movement, augmented touch; all extremely vivid as life. It is quite amazing.

I get to the other apartment and although it is difficult to balance and climb the steps while carrying her, I get to the next landing. A (unknown) male asks me if it is Elly and I say yes and he says that it is the first good news he has heard all day, seemingly in contrast to some sort of business franchise not working out as well as general world news in the media. My dream fades as I reach the door of her apartment, after going into low-flying mode to avoid the step-by-step “problematic” staircase.