Blue_Opossum

Morning of August 31, 2014. Sunday.



This is one of those “whining” stressful dreams (usually from being overtired, it seems. The noise I make in the dream is vocalized in reality but not nearly as loudly. They are not really all that common for me. Mostly I am lying on my back in the bed in-dream. Somehow, an animal gets in through the window near the head of our bed and is near my wife and I on the bed. I get the impression that it is somehow part human and part dog at the same time, though eventually seems to be more dog-like and mostly on its side throughout. I keep pushing at it to keep it from causing strange sensations in my back and side (like the strange ticklish spasm I still get now and then). It is not fully nightmarish but rather stressful in a physical sense and in trying to vocalize more loudly (again, causing the “whining” in reality as I am sleeping). My wife brings me out of it for the most part, which is good.

Morning of August 30, 2014. Saturday.



An earlier part of my dream seems to reflect a typical “finding books” dream where various books (including magazines) have been discarded near smaller stores and I look for items of interest. At one point, though, I am in an area late at night near an alley while a few other (unknown) people are around. My wife is with me. There is something about either going home or possibly to another location we may be temporarily living at and leaving with two heavy seemingly cloth or burlap bags of which I am not sure of the contents - possibly generic personal belongs or the results of scavenging - but the bags are quite heavy. I have the idea that I will just fly to where we need to go.

I tell my wife to get onto my back as I hold a bag on each side. Each bag almost reaches the ground when held up by each hand. The other people watch as I then fly into the sky effortlessly and with a sense of freedom. This becomes the typical recurring scene of flying over the streets of the city late at night, though I am not sure of the location. Though I had felt the heavier weight while still on the ground, once I focus on the flight, it is as if everything is primarily weightless. It is a very long, enjoyable flight.

There is another section where I am with a younger version of my wife and another unknown female. We seem to all be on the bottom bunk of a bunk bed though not much happens other than my wife seeming to read from an (unknown) book which I think is about geography and possibly with aspects of politics.

Eventually, there is a strange developing plot regarding the usage of kidnapped people taken to an island to be slaves. I remember the ride in the airplane, and how most of us soon escape. We run down a long straight dirt road (with higher weeds on each side) to a more open area near a lake. It seems like one or two persons drown while trying to stay unseen, but this is not certain. We hide behind the reeds near water’s edge as the kidnappers, being a large military group, search the other side of the lake. I do not seem to be bothered much as I am not afraid, but perhaps not directly focused on the potential danger of being caught again.

Eventually, others and I watch the long line of soldiers going back fairly swiftly to the area we all escaped from because of unknown aircraft being detected and approaching the island. The direction they are going is to my left as we hide in the weeds though I am not sure of compass direction. Airplanes fly over the buildings in the distance but only partly (at first) seem to be related to an attempted rescue. Someone asks me “Did you see that?” when bombs start to fall and destroy all of their buildings and eventually all of those involved with the kidnappings - however, there seems to be a caution or wariness regarding the group that seemingly is there to rescue us (they may perhaps not even know about the implemented slavery) and so we stay in the weeds as the scene loses cohesion.

There is one more switch to a different section where a (unknown) girl is talking about Abraham Lincoln while standing outside in an unknown area (though possibly implied to be near the house I presently live in). She is reading lines from a book and continuously saying (after each and every phrase) “Lincoln lied abut that” (with an unemotional matter-of-fact increasing emphasis on “that” each time). This gets to be a bit monotonous. Finally, she said “Lincoln smiled…”, followed yet again by “Lincoln lied about that” (implying that he was not smiling even though he was, which does not make that much sense at this point).

Morning of August 28, 2014. Thursday.



At the time I was experiencing this very vivid dream, the house next door was being partly demolished by continuous extremely loud hammering and scraping in the kitchen with a tool dropping every couple of minutes (which went on for about six hours - this had also occurred last Friday for about eight hours).

As I am lying in bed in-dream, I notice that to my right, instead of my wardrobe, is seemingly a closer wall of the house with a large recess about three feet up from the floor and some of the area implied to be below the floorboards. A large mouse comes out, with longer fur than normal. Farther in is an additional opening, somewhat circular (but irregular) and difficult to discern and which possibly leads to an underground tunnel - there is not much light inside. Small details of plumbing are vaguely visible or considered. Another large mouse is eventually visible. Soon, however, a baboon-like creature of about the size of a medium-sized dog, though somewhat cream-colored and with vaguely badger-like patterning on head and feet, grabs each mouse, one at a time, and quickly eats it, swallowing it whole. I am somewhat surprised and wary but not really afraid. I turn to the left to mention this event to my wife. For a short time, I hold on to our pet cat which comes into the room, as I get the impression our cat might be eaten by the creature if it goes too close to the recess.

The area has a dirt floor and I seem to be aware that the creature had been continuously feeding on larger mice and perhaps birds for a time. At one point, he is on all fours and is so fat that his stomach and entire torso drags on the ground. He does not seem to be a threat and I do not even sense any danger, as it seems “obvious” that he would not leave the area closer to the secondary entrance. This would not be feasible in reality, as the area would not be big enough and the bathroom is on the other side of the wall that, again, is farther away in real life. However, in afterthought, it is almost as if the side of my wardrobe had a cave-like area to a secret part of the house (partly underground). The layout, as with many dreams, is not feasible, though.

Curiously, I am not aware (at first) of the hammering while in the dream state, although I do often hear real-life sounds “scripting” the dream. The dream eventually loses cohesion and morphs into another less vivid dream of a false-awakening where I am continuously talking to my wife about the person next door and his constant noise and calling him various rude names. I can hear him replying (though not yelling) but cannot make out much of what he is saying (in an only slightly frustrated tone).

It seems fairly obvious that the distorted baboon and the badger-like nuances represented how I “saw” the person next door and how he was intruding on our lives at the time; the “impossible” fatness, however, probably relating to the presence of the louder noise.

Morning of August 26, 2014. Tuesday.



This is one of those typical dreams of discovering a hidden or previously unexplored room in the house, more common since around age thirty or so. Such rooms are usually filled with things previous tenants had left behind, usually intentionally (implying they had been discarded or forgotten about) although sometimes items are still possibly wanted but yet unclaimed. The items are often old books (often paperback novels), post cards, documents, letters (in envelopes), receipts, order forms, old newspapers, family photographs, notebooks and binders, comic books, and so on, but often with other items such as random knick knacks, and even clusters of plastic flowers or old automobile tires and sometimes clothes.

This dream slowly moves into that theme when I go to find a bathroom in the house we are living in now and discover it is very different and seemingly more in the central area of the house. As I go down to use the toilet, I start to contemplate whether or not it is actually a toilet - as it consists of a large rock-pool-like area under the floorboards (which for a short time seems like some sort of potentially partly dysfunctional temporary plumbing). The water is flowing southward, mostly under a smaller horizontal recess or alcove, and I get the impression of exploring the area since there soon seems to be a larger cave-like recess after a time (as if the environment is gradually changing as I watch - it even seems a bit mystical for a time). Soon, there are several other people around, mostly unknown, a few possibly relatives. My wife eventually comes into the large additional room that I go into that now suddenly seems fully accessible even though it had not originally seemed to have a doorway anywhere. As I do not recall having seen this (fictional) room under the house before, I decide to see what it is about.

There is first concern about water damage to anything that was there for so long, as the room is apparently filled with water much of the time, but oddly, this is not the case. There are a large number of paperback books in at least five rows on one large longer shelf to the right of the entrance and a few other areas with storage boxes and single shelves. There is a series of vases with plastic flowers on the opposite end. There are boxes of documents and old receipts and a lot of old magazines, the columns of boxes filling much of the large room mostly about three-high (and there does seem to be a few old clothes here and there, some sticking out of the boxes). Annoyingly, yet creating an atmosphere of humor in-dream, I ask “Where are the comic books?” One unknown female seems amused by what almost seems like fake anger on my part. However, I am actually disappointed that out of hundreds of magazines and old newspapers and documents (as well as all the paperback novels on the larger bookshelf) that there are no comic books, although it is eventually thought there are random ones here and there below other items.

I then look over some of the paperback books in the bookshelf. A lot of the books seem to be in a series, most about a particular animal. A couple of the books remind me of “Halic, the Story of a Gray Seal” by Ewan Clarkson, which I had gotten on my eleventh birthday yet did not read until several years later (just prior to my family moving to Wisconsin again). They seem to be a continuation of the story (the focus possibly also related to having seen last night with my wife Slicker the seal in the 1941 movie “Topper Returns” which also featured hidden rooms).

Oddly, I notice that, in every paperback novel (each of which has a few simple sketches here and there, mostly of a particular animal, some images just a head profile) two or three letters of every line is missing along each margin on every page. Some of these missing letters had been filled in rather sloppily in pencil by the previous owner of the books, but fairly sparsely. This is also the way they were published - by intent. Apparently, you have to pay a fee by some sort of subscription membership where you then receive lists, over a longer time period, of the missing letters so that you can write them in and more easily read the contents of the book. It is also implied though, that some of the letters are based on the answers to related simple “puzzles” you have to buy additionally in other books or single documents. This sounds to me like some sort of idiotic scam for simpletons, vaguely reminding me of the fairly common but fake “code-breaking” tasks where you just copy letters from the given numbers rather than having to solve anything. I am annoyed by the books being like this, but there is not much I can do except wonder if the lists of missing letters are in a box somewhere in the cellar-like room - or - I could possibly work out most of each page without any aid. (For some reason, it also vaguely makes me think of cryptic puzzle contests where the supposed “answers” are written afterwards so that less or no prize money needs to be distributed based on the “answers” that were sent in by the public.)

There are also a couple piles of PAIA (Pan-American-Indian-Association) newspapers, some of which I had never seen before.

This is based mostly on real-life associations. I often see newspapers in archives where a word or two is missing from every line along a margin in the graphic images (rendering it mostly unreadable and pointless), caused by a curve in the paper when on the scanner and the person not bothering to make sure it is flat.

Morning of August 23, 2014. Saturday.



I am back at the King Street boarding house (where I have not lived for over twenty years) as part of the recurring concept of being there “secretly” for the most part; that is, without the owners (who live downstairs), particularly the landlady, knowing I am there. This is usually due to not having lived there for awhile or not having paid rent for a month or more.

In this case though, it is a fictional room on the second floor. It is on the west side of the building, but immediately at the northwest corner, where the kitchen is in reality. It is also about twice the size of any of the real rooms. It seems very “real” in-dream though and does not seem like a mirror-image reversal (regarding the whole house being mirror-imaged in directional layout as dreams sometimes do) of the northeast room, as the northwest corner area seems like part of a normal room rather than part of a cupola (the corner being shaped as a partial polygon in reality) - and also as three windows go across the north wall in-dream. I do not notice any windows on the west wall. My brother Jim is alive again and visiting me. Dennis (still alive in reality) is also there. We are apparently watching television (which faces east and is somewhat near the center of the room) which seems to be an older episode of the original “Star Trek” series, but the picture is not that clear. After a time, I notice an antenna lead (the old flatter twin-lead type), somewhat coppery brown, going up and around the room and to the opposite corner and I am thinking it would be good if I was able to connect it to the television somehow. At this time, I notice that the room is very slightly L-shaped.

I also notice that, at the south wall, the antenna lead seems detached on one side but is also wrapped in packaging tape in the spliced area (thus, though the tape is holding the two leads together, one side is still detached under the tape). I am aware that this setup was done by the elderly landlord. (I do not remember in-dream that he had actually died over twenty years ago, as I had also gone to his funeral.) I cannot reach any of the lead, though, as most of it is attached along the highest parts of three walls near the ceiling.

I mention this idea about me connecting the lead somehow by placing a chair on the large table with metal legs (which is along the north wall) and Jim happily offers to do it instead. He places the chair on the table after climbing up on it and successfully pulls part of the lead down while standing on the chair (I am somewhat amazed by how strong the table is to support his weight without incident). I am able to get it to work, but “Star Trek” is ending and a different show comes on. It is an odd kid’s show called “Tellagogo” of which I vaguely seem to be aware of the spelling (though it might be better formed as “Telegogo” as a play on “television” - in fact, I have discovered this word actually exists but do not know anything about it). The dream soon loses cohesion after this.



It occurs to me that much of this dream may be symbolic to simply trying to “connect my senses” to wake up - as the television was on at the time in reality with my youngest son watching it. The lead being mostly disconnected on one side probably relates to my conscious mind still not “getting the signal” from the real world - the evidence is that the television show went from “Star Trek” (suggesting a fantasy world) to a kid’s show (which was actually on in the real world at the time - thus I was then waking from the dream successfully after more fully linking my conscious awareness).

This reminds me just a little of a dream of about twenty years ago where I had an audio loop going (on a digital sampler with a held down key by way of the cord over it and under the two opposite keys) that was designed to bring about lucidity in-dream. I became fully lucid in the resulting dream, but then spent the rest of the time trying to find the source of the sound to turn it off. I eventually found that it was behind a locked door in-dream (as part of a long hallway), and became so annoyed, I eventually woke up out of one of the more lucid dream states I have ever been in. Pure irony and hilarity.

Morning of August 22, 2014. Friday.



In my dream, my family and I are living in La Crosse in the Loomis Street house. Over time, there is annoying noise from our neighbor’s house to the north.

Living in that house is an unfamiliar black male of about fifty and his two young sons. While the man is in his house, Zsuzsanna tells the boys to stop bouncing a larger ball on our house, which is mostly upon the outer north wall near where the bathroom would be in reality. I later go out and tell them it is okay to play, because I notice they are in their backyard and I do not want them to perceive me as mean. (The distance between the houses is wider in my dream, as in real life, there was barely enough space to walk between the houses.) This dream features a recurring false setup of the Loomis Street fence being chain-link instead of wood.

I later falsely remember that Zsuzsanna’s “other husband” (though without a marriage relationship) is living with us. He is an average-looking Caucasian Australian man of about forty, slightly balding. I aggressively command him to leave, yet at the same time feel I am being somewhat mean, though I also wonder why I had allowed this situation to exist in the first place.

Later, Zsuzsanna seems to be a young version of Barbara Bain. She appears to be an android at first but is not, as she is apparently wearing a robotic suit. The “other husband” and I try to remove some of the exoskeleton while in the living room, apparently to replace a medication that otherwise circulates within the shell of the suit, as she supposedly wears the exoskeleton to keep her healthy and strong and to filter the air. I become unsure of the situation. The suit seems to go haywire and we have to dismantle it on the couch, becoming annoyed, as Barbara teleports to the roof of the neighbor’s house to the south, and stands there gazing back at this house. I remain unsure of the situation, as she seems to still be wearing a robotic suit, though the one I and the other male are left with seemingly needs to be completely dismantled into small pieces, several pieces looking like larger hypodermic needles as my dream loses cohesion. There seems to be “part of her” left in the suit that we dismantle, though this part may be Juliet Landau, though as my dream ends, there is not much remaining.

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Much of this dream’s content was caused by a subliminal attempt to resolve the source of the real-life noise next door, where they had been rebuilding parts of the house. The absence of a viable connection to the unconscious mind and conscious self identity while sleeping (and in a non-lucid dream) resulted in minimal threads of my current conscious self identity (such as the recall of being married, though not with recall of living in Australia) being ambiguously mixed with a place I have not lived in years, as is typically the case.

Barbara Bain was confused with Zsuzsanna by my dream self because of both having the same birthdays of September 13, though there is much more. Barbara’s daughter Juliet Landau has a surname very similar to mine. Additionally, September 13 was the date in the opening of “Space 1999”, which I often watched in my youth. Juliet also starred in “Buffy the Vampire Slayer”, which Zsuzsanna and I watched often. Barbara’s character in “Space 1999” is Helena, which is Zsuzsanna’s mother’s name.

The robotic suit and teleportation, in addition to being associated with the typical vestibular system correlation as the main factor of being in the dream state, also has the factor of trying to “escape” from the environmental noise while sleeping. I am more so perceiving my desire for Zsuzsanna to be away from the noise, and to be protected from it, though ultimately, it is not possible.

It is typical for fences to be different in dreams than real life, sometimes missing, sometimes being where they are not in reality, and in this case, a chain-link fence (that provides much more visibility in my dream’s setting) instead of a more solid wooden one (which allows hardly any visibilty from a distance in reality). The chain-link fence was there to fit into the fictitious nature of my dream for dream scenario convenience.

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I explain this dream type further in “Dreams of Type PRECONAV-VSCPCEL, 01-15”.

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Morning of August 22, 2014. Friday.



I am looking over my two youngest sons’ toys (the boys are also in the room) which have been gathered together on the floor near the center of the room. I am not fully sure of the location. It may be the living room from Cubitis but may also be Barolin Street. There are no obvious features to go by and my in-dream perspective is not focused on the environment itself anyway. There are several plastic toy soldiers (multicolored rather than monotone) that are on a much larger vehicle (mostly which I keep facing me, where I am sitting on my knees, it seems). The vehicle also has a couple smaller vehicles in the back that are around the same scale as the toy soldiers. This seems “normal” at first regarding real-life proportions, until I later realize that the two quite different scales of vehicles would not exist at full scale in real vehicle scenarios (though I doubt in conscious afterthought that children care that much if all of their toys are all at the same scale as my dream seems to imply) I test a toy army truck at the toy soldier scale that whirs a bit, being one that goes by itself for a short distance when activated by manual movement somehow. The gear design under it seems fairly complex.

A bit later, I look at a truck that is only slightly bigger than the scale of the toy soldiers which is sitting in one section of the back of the much larger toy truck (which is on my left with the larger vehicle facing me). In a short time, the smaller vehicle is much larger, about one-quarter the size or larger of a GI Joe jeep I once had. There are then much bigger figures, about the scale of the larger plastic toy solider figures I used to have. In a way, I am also thinking of smaller versions (about two-thirds the size at this point in-dream) of the GI Joe and Johnny West dolls I had as a boy. One of the figures is a pregnant female. Her stomach opens up (being similar to a model we had at the middle school) and the womb and baby can come out in a few separate parts. The colors of the pieces, four of them, are mostly pink and blue. This last part seems to vaguely relate to a previous real-life task of trying to come up with a way to fix the small broken keyboard “leg” - which was replaced by a new one and that one in turn broke shortly after. They do not make things very well any more.

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Morning of August 17, 2014. Sunday.



I am in a seemingly unknown in-dream city that does not look like any region I have ever actually been in in my life, though it may have subtle aspects of Brisbane (Australia) and La Crosse (America). The mood is rather clear and the dream is quite long and seemingly purposeful in that tasks must be accomplished over time under my guidance and participation in a larger group. I am actually partly responsible for the survival of many people in the area. This is apparently because of the supposed apocalyptic events, including no more electricity and the infrastructure somehow vanishing or rendered no longer feasible (this being rather illogical from my perspective, as my family lived without electricity for some time when I was a young child, in the middle of a dense swamp).

There does not seem to be any evidence of natural disaster - or disease or even conflict; just some sort of total lack of business activity and government presence, including police, and all known personages of any level of any previous authority - though their absence is not addressed or questioned. I and about five or six others are the ones to seek and bring back supplies to where the people that are still around have gathered. Curiously, Josh Holloway (the actor from “Lost” and “Intelligence”) is one of the in-dream team. (This is probably because “Intelligence” is one of the only newer television shows I have watched in recent years.) We are getting together food supplies (from various abandoned grocery stores and such) to bring back in a large semitrailer, even though there is not much fuel left (probably just enough for one longer trip back to where we had journeyed from).

There is a longer period of time spent talking with Josh, who works under my command. He has an extraordinarily pessimistic attitude towards life in general and cannot seem to understand my positive focus on my survival skills and general ways of thinking. He does not even understand my happy outlook or the joy I have often experienced in life. Oddly, he even questions me on ideas about how to talk to people as if he had never communicated with anyone in his life before. This attitude may be partly based on our present and ongoing situation, but it seems as if that has always been his nature. We are packing cardboard boxes with mostly canned goods and boxed food items.

For some reason, at one point, we are moving a refrigerator full of food down from what seems like an upper walkway from a dam control room (again, unsure of the region or location). There does not seem to be much logic to this act, as the pulley gets jammed for a short time and I think it would make more sense to put the food in different containers than to move the entire clumsy heavy refrigerator, but it is one of our last tasks before we return to feed the people and sustain them for a time.

We are then ready to return to the group of people to have the food stored in their chosen locations. I am driving the semi for a time, but things start to change before I begin. I notice loud music being played from a house (in the direction behind us) that was presumed to be empty, just as we are leaving. This seems unusual in that there is not supposed to be any electricity (though it does not come to mind that it could be a battery-operated portable stereo - though it does seem a bit too loud for that possibility anyway). Mostly, other members of the team look back only briefly and we just ignore it and focus on the job of getting back to the others. We do not actually see anyone else around at first.

Eventually though, and surprisingly, there are suddenly police all around (even though police supposedly no longer existed), and a lot of other people just appearing in the streets “out of nowhere”, some of them politicians. It turns out that this was some kind of “experiment” or government project (similar to fake prostitute setups and other fake setups created by the authorities as if there was not enough real crime to act against) to see what people would do in a survival situation (or after the disappearance of government) - and apparently it was “wrong” for us to get food and other supplies from abandoned stores to help other people survive - a few people are being marched to a prison, apparently, just for taking discarded food items from the back of a store, from a dumpster. Instead of driving a semi at this point, I then seem to be on a large adult tricycle made of cheap plastic, but still determined to get the trailer of supplies back to the people, as many of them have not eaten for a time. A siren is going the whole time from here (this was actually caused by my youngest son playing a computer game in the kitchen - though the siren sound is somewhat different in-dream).

A police officer in some sort of odd-looking helmet and pastel fake-looking “riot gear” keeps telling me to pull over but I ignore him and much of what he is saying sounds like gibberish, so I very loudly keep saying that I do not understand him and just keep driving, or rather peddling. The other people are still with me (in the semitrailer) and it is my intent to get back to my group - because really, it still seems like a survival situation - in some ways, even more now. Even though he stands in front of the vehicle a few times, I just keep going and he eventually moves to safety each time, but continuing to shout gibberish, some of the phrases fairly long.

There is a very clear and focused awareness that this is really the end of society (or at least the present system of authority) because of what the government has done, so thus the public will eventually act upon this fiasco. I inform a few people during our trip back that, because of this trick that the government has played, there really will be an apocalypse now within a few days, where it will be much the same as when they were pretending with their “experiment”. Realistically though, I doubt this would ever happen no matter what is done to the public by any source.

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Morning of August 14, 2014. Thursday.



The first part of my dream has something to do with separating junk mail from real mail. Part of it also involves a small stack of A4-sized order forms and I believe at least one catalog. I am not sure of the location though it has some aspects of my sister’s kitchen, but is a larger room.

For some reason, I decide to make pink-frosted donuts, which has something to do with a baking kit (actually a set of several, each in a different package) with the ingredients and such having arrived in the mail that day, though my wife and I had apparently gotten these shipments for free, possibly by an oversight of the company (though perhaps a promotion that was incorrectly duplicated a few times to the same address). There is also an ambiguous idea that they may turn out to be soft sandwich cookies instead, and with vanilla frosting in the middle. I am trying to work out, when putting them in the rectangular baking tin, if there is going to be enough for a six by two arrangement or an eight by two arrangement. There seems to be only enough dough for seven and the different parts of dough are uneven. My sister (Marilyn, now deceased) makes a comment about how I am not doing it correctly, which is somewhat annoying. I put the dough all back together to start over and there also seems to be icing mixed in by that point, even though I had not yet actually had it out.

Trying to place the individual donuts into the tin again results in a problem. There then seems to be thin, larger, randomly shaped rusty pieces of the baking tin flaking off from the bottom (reminding me a little of what happened to my thermos in primary school years ago) and getting mixed into the dough - but at that point it does not seem to matter as much as another illogical problem. There are now seemingly a fair number of pre-made small and thin disc-like sections (reminding me a little of miniature communion wafers, I suppose - though I never saw any in real life) of tougher dough all mashed together in one corner of the tin, seemingly enough for at least a dozen or more smaller sandwich cookies. They were apparently supposed to be placed singularly (followed by a layer of icing and an additional “disc” for each) but now would be hard to separate. Most of the icing has now ended up in one blob mixed with other pieces of dough. I am more annoyed.

After a short time, the dough actually seems baked even though I had not yet put it in the oven. I inform my sister that the would-be donuts are too much like light cake in texture at this point. Somehow though, the contents of the tin go back to how they were before the other events happened. I get so annoyed that I catapult the contents of the tin into a mostly empty dumpster outside.

I start two other sessions of attempts to make these things, figuring that if one goes wrong the other may still turn out. (I still do not know if I am making pink-frosted donuts or white cream sandwich cookies.) I mentally cause butter to form at the bottom of each tin (oddly, without realizing you cannot just imagine things to materialize into a baking tin in real life), a lot of it in fact (but uneven in placement), so that when the dough is placed (also materialized mentally by this point as if I am teleporting the contents of the unopened remaining kits and using telekinesis to shape the dough after separating it into smaller parts), I soon, after not being satisfied with how much is in each uneven piece, once again start over with the mashed dough and it eventually changes into a darker and darker color, with apparently too much oil mixed in, by which I am sure may affect the taste and probably result in a health issue. I continue, though, but once again start to get annoyed before my dream loses cohesion.

Thus this turns out to be a typical non-lucid “nothing works for a step by step task” dream because of dreams often refusing to form into a proper continuity or chronological cohesion or stability in general (due to critical-thinking and common sense usually being defunct in most types of dreams), which I find somewhat amusing in afterthought as a major lucid trigger failure.

Morning of August 13, 2014. Wednesday.



In the first part of the dream there is something wrong with the moon. It has something to do with the orbit becoming more eccentric in a potentially disastrous sense. Parts of it come off and will possibly later be a threat to Earth. I am outside in an unknown area and some younger people throw rocks at it relative to some suggestions made previously. The rocks actually go into the sky and into space, fixing (by getting stuck in random areas) some of the holes on the moon - but making a few others worse. However, I still see a cluster of three holes in the moon that stars can clearly be seen through. (My guess is that part of this relates to seeing images in old comic books and some pop culture designs which imply that a crescent moon has stars in front of the unseen part of the otherwise round moon. This has always struck me as quite naïve - even as a child.) In the dream, the three holes in the moon (that go all the way through to the other side, although the perspective would not imply seeing the stars through the holes in reality) do not seem to be that much of a problem or a potential for cataclysm.

Later, I am back on Gellibrand Street in Brisbane where my family and I used to live and what was our first apartment. The bed is on the enclosed front porch, oriented longways to the room’s layout, though it seems there is another room in front of that one, the fictional door being to my left when I am lying in the bed rather than at the other end and going into the open hall of the building as it does in reality.

Over time, I realize that there is a married couple also in the bed to my right but they are asleep for a time. Crawling on the ceiling above are three giant beetles clustered together (seemingly two of them mating) and moving down from the ceiling a short distance but then crawling on it again. They look the most like patent-leather beetles (or “Jerusalem beetles”). They may be eating the wood in the ceiling, though I believe that they are venomous and harmful to people (though I also sense that a part of me is “making that up”). The man of about forty, who is black, looks up at the ceiling but does not seem that concerned (though a bit surprised at first) as I tell him they are dangerous (and I have the vague idea that they may eat people, though again there is the idea that the concern is not quite legitimate). In fact, when all three of them fly down in a threatening manner, he casually knocks them to the floor with his right arm, all at the same time somehow. They each are about the size of a cat (though they seemed bigger at first). They are then somewhere on the right side of the bed (on the floor), but nothing happens after this and I no longer see them. The female on the other side does not wake up the whole time.

Morning of August 9, 2014. Saturday.



I am incorporeal as I often am in impersonal or spectator-type dreams (and there is no discernible emotion, either), especially when watching from a distance. I have no in-dream association with the location. I am just looking at the outside of a high building (more than ten feet out, apparently hovering in the air) that could be anywhere in any city. I am not sure if it is a business building or apartment building but it does look more modern and with some commercial implications such as ferns in large white cylindrical vases near one open area at the end of a large hall. There are two sets of elevator systems on the outside of the building, it seems, but there is no logic to their apparent function due to the fact that the entire elevator system is vertically layered. Thus if you are on an outermost (secondary) elevator, an inner elevator (closest to the outer opening of the building) must be on your floor as well before you can enter the building onto that floor by additionally going through the inner elevator after leaving the more outer one, and of course, the doors have to be open in both.

The elevators seem to have mostly glass or at least transparent walls, though I also see a horizontal silvery metal beam (of about ten inches or so) around the perimeter of each elevator at about a third of the way up from the floor and I think the walls below that are translucent (or only semitransparent). The elevator is crowded with at least a dozen people dressed both formally and informally. It stops at a floor higher up but no one gets out due to the fact that the inner elevator on that floor is full of various larger animals, one each, including a bear and a wolf, possibly a tiger, and also an owl flying about inside. There then seems to be a second inner elevator near the ground floor, also full of animals, including even a rhinoceros and a lion and possibly an egret or stork. The elevator with the people also stops on that floor but no one gets out or makes an attempt to change positions. This happens a couple times; they go up and then down. The animals do not leave the other elevators, either.

I suspect that at least some of this was partially triggered by a very annoying recent television commercial which I have seen several times - where it shows three people in an elevator near the end, each with animal heads; a dog, a frog, and a horse - and it relates to some sort of throat or cold medicine, I think (I really do not pay much attention to commercials relative to what is being advertised). The commercial ends with the woman with the horse head then having her human head back after the medicine supposedly takes effect. However, walking from the elevator and down the hall, she makes a loud, fluttery “horse sound”, much like a “raspberry” (which actually implies, at least to me, that the medicine was not effective; most television commercials these days actually turn me off from buying or even relating to the product in any way).

Morning of August 8, 2014. Friday.



The main plot of the dream oddly related to my grandfather George. For some reason, time (as well as location) is quite ambiguous (in fact, he was born in 1871 and died in 1945 - long before I was born), and he is alive and fairly healthy even though I am also aware my father had died, so there truly is some strange new ambiguity I have not had before in that I also do not recall having had George in any of my past dreams either. Even more unusual, he is a celebrity relative to music (particularly in the 1920s) prior to my father and had taught him guitar and such - which is all distortion - my father was the one who was more well-known. The location seems to be the southwest room of my sister’s old house on Loomis Street. Along the north wall (near where my mother’s refrigerator was at one point in the past) is some sort of odd composite of jukebox, radio, and cassette tape player, about chest-high. Sometimes the tape gets chewed by flowing out when the capstan gets jammed (recurring). I am aware that he is in the living room at one point.

At one point, my daughter is in the room (and my two youngest sons for a time) - not sure which daughter (it seems to be my oldest but several years younger in-dream, though my youngest is not yet two). Somehow, a bit later, her head or only the right side is there but she is not. When looking at “her”, I am able to “remember” that the right side of her head is unusual in that her ear is not fully defined in that there is no lobe or any “other side” of any of it and her ear is actually only the three-dimensional outer shape itself over her skin, which seems regrettably unfortunate and which apparently was some sort of fictional birth defect. This clear but false memory is not a trigger for lucidity, either.

There were several other random miscellaneous events I do not quite fully recall, a few relating to fictional (or “too advanced”) 1920s audio technology, I think. Odd hodgepodges of fictional “memories” being “relived” is not all that uncommon in dreams.

Morning of August 6, 2014. Wednesday.



I am in an undefined space (although seemingly aware I am “sleeping” in bed at one point in real time) contemplating a false memory of something I had supposedly just been watching on television earlier, perhaps the news, but I am not focused. There are a few names that come to mind with seemingly “real” associations, which also seems to be ongoing at one point even though I had not been up yet (or even fully awake) this morning.

There seems to be a girl who is gambling relative to an important story, though I am not sure if it is a movie or relative to a documentary about a real person (possibly an actress, though) and for some reason I believe it is February through my distorted ongoing “memory” at a point where I am nearly awake. Over time, I am aware that the girl is quite well known as a supposed gambling celebrity (as if gambling were actually a type of entertainment for the public when either actors, actresses, or lesser known people do it). Her “real” name - that is, the name her parents gave her - is “Rollemtine”, which is a play on gambling (her parents apparently being known gamblers with possible celebrity status) and being born on Valentine’s Day, which does not make as much sense in reality as in the dream world. However, it may be related to fictional “reality television” - a show that just shows people gambling - which basically would not surprise me at all and of course even typical game shows of various themes as far back as the 1950s seem to “fit” at one point.

After “knowing” of Rollemtine, and even being falsely aware that my two youngest sons had just been watching a cartoon featuring her character for whatever reason, I focus on some other distortions, one of them being “Valenstein” - Valenstein, of course, being the name of a monster created on Valentine’s Day or more likely a reference to a fictional neurosurgeon of that time, though that is likely another story and not complete in the false memory.

Using Google, I was surprised to find there actually is an Elliot Valenstein who is “a professor emeritus of psychology and neuroscience”.

Dreams are funny, though I found no reference to “Rollemtine”.

I could have tagged this as postcognitive I guess, but I have decided not to since it is possible I saw the name at one point in the past.

Morning of August 4, 2014. Monday.



I am on Loomis Street in La Crosse and it seems to be very late at night at first. Eventually there is the knowledge of an explosion to the east. Once again there is, for some reason, a focus on going east on Gillette Street (recently recurring only - though it did recur somewhat in dreams of around ages five to six as well).

There is apparently a nuclear bomb dropped to the east, but it is only a “practice” one that is meant to implement data on some sort of social study. There is no actual danger. However, a very thick but white “cloud” or fog exists in the area east of where I am, stopping precisely at Loomis and Gillette, and it is supposedly very difficult to walk through, which seems relevant to the beginning “test” or “experiment”. Drivers of cars cannot see where they are going, either, other than fairly close to the car, and require bright headlights to see anywhere at all. There is the idea after I try to walk near the area, that it is probably unsafe to even attempt to go very far in the fog. I have an idea that cars may not successfully travel the street and beyond, either. So, the first time I plan on walking through, I change my mind, but I am ready to go through a short time later.

Still, regardless of the problematic nature of maneuverability and lack of visual orientation, a number of people must get to work by walking. Many of them are Japanese and work in the same area at a fictional local business. Most do not seem that concerned about being able to get to where they are going. I eventually walk through the fog again, noticing a few other pedestrians in random locations, a couple of them even walking down the middle of the street. I experience an interesting perception as I enter and am able to find my way through without going off the side of the road. I am aware of an area that goes over a smaller bridge. I end up at an area that seems like some sort of resort and things can be seen a bit more clearly.

In a way, I am surprised that I do not become lucid, especially as I had recently mentioned to my wife that, even though it is somewhat of a movie and television show cliché, certain types of dreams (especially in childhood) have had a mist rise from the ground or floor (but usually only several inches high). I am not sure if this is a “borrowed” cliché that is sometimes utilized by a particular dream state, or if it is just a natural feature of dream states in a metaphorical sense of some kind. As such, it has still never worked as a trigger for lucidity and always seemed a “normal” part of my dream environment in both inside and outside settings.

Morning of August 3, 2014. Sunday.



This dream occurred in four main sections but with several other minor scenes. Its first is related to a mysterious small rock with Mayan glyphs (also called Mayan hieroglyphs) supposedly related to alien technology being around during the time that the writing was new. Two students at my old middle school (probably grade eight) talk about the rock and what it could mean. Later, it is studied by my teachers and is going to be used for experiments and to advance one particular student as some sort of “prince” or “king” in mostly a metaphorical sense, it seems. I think this may be the same old “replay” of a real-life event where a fellow student found a “rock” back in fourth grade (which was actually made mostly of concrete) with the “writing from an old Russian newspaper about the Sputnik” being said to be on it. It was actually from an American newspaper with mirrored writing (due to it somehow being transferred into the concrete when it set - I assume, a bit like Silly Putty) but nothing would convince this other student. The only “English” letters “reversed” in Cyrillic (but having a different pronunciation) were the “R” and “N” - yet my classmate really thought it was Russian.

My dream meanders into unrelated events and ideas for the most part, though the rock mostly remains a main element that relates to some sort of supposed “magic” or possibly advanced technology that seems like magic. Another two students are talking about it in front of the middle school and who the person is that the rock supposedly “picked” to be an advanced student of telekinesis and such. I am much younger in my dream (as is often the case) and am somewhat annoyed that people are claiming the rock is special or attributed to things which I know it is not. During this time, I actually seem to be present inside a “movie” or “fictional world” - yet it is a movie of which the “actors” do not know they are actors - almost like a forced “organic replay” where there is minimal free will to manifest a story continuity for an unseen audience by which a few may actually participate (vaguely similar to a “Star Trek” holodeck but much larger; the size of a planet). I watch and listen in on one scene regarding a minor conflict and one male notices me (although in one mode, the viewer is not seen at all even when present and close to a character) but I tell him that I am only there as a spectator - speaking in a manner that I “know” I am dreaming (yet in contrast to this, I am not actually lucid). I casually wave to him and he waves back briefly and absentmindedly with two fingers extended horizontally, leaving the area near the portico’s rectangular column which the group had been near.

From there, I walk into a large room. A boy is trying to make the rock float in the air through some sort of implied telekinetic ability but is not doing that well. This is supposedly the special “chosen” boy to be the student of the implied extinct(?) alien culture. The male teacher of about thirty or younger is patiently guiding him, giving him encouragement and instructions as other students and I think a few members of the public look on. Knowing that mainstream society mostly only has pretense in such things and actually ignores or fears people with any truly unusual abilities, I start to think on a mischievous level. I casually focus on the rock and cause it to float quite high into the air, almost to the ceiling. After this I make a few motions with my right hand and cause the rock to spin and move in a circle quite rapidly (fast enough to cause a breeze inside the building with an implied faux nonthreatening “tornado”), also forming an implied large circle in midair just below the ceiling for several minutes. Even though I am able to do this effortlessly, apparently I am not the “chosen” of the rock - someone without a clue is. In some ways, this annoys me, but in other ways, I am thankful for my anonymity.

The teacher, of course, is frustrated by my antics and does not see it in a way that would logically dictate that I am the one with the abilities and higher potential and not the other boy, but this is not the issue anymore, and is typical of mainstream culture and “herd mentality”, I reason. As such (regarding “herd mentality”) as I leave the room, I “magically” transform (with a fairly effortless mental focus) an industrial floor polisher (the larger ride-on type) into an elephant, deliberately taking my time as it slowly transforms and begins to trumpet as soon as the transition is complete. I can sense the teacher’s aggravation and find it amusing, knowing that many people will find it hard to leave the room upon being blocked by the elephant. (Doing such, I am still not lucid. This seems to have another childhood association where I mentally manipulated a small elephant marionette, from a distance and while invisible, in a school show - the elephant being a representation of the Carol Burnett cleaning lady character.)

Later, I seem to be walking through my sister Marilyn’s old house (she died this year), but it is larger and different. My brother Jim (deceased) is on my left. I apologize for “bringing” him to the location (I am still not lucid, though) but he does not seem to mind and mentions something about having been sleeping for a time, also implying that he had been watching television at one point. Another sister (also deceased) is in the house but goes to the backyard. Somehow we end up coming from the backyard and walking towards the house even though we had just been walking through the house towards the back door (though there is a vague idea that we had actually walked back and around from the south side of the house where there is a sidewalk in reality). Jim then goes up to the landing of a fictional wooden staircase (about seven steps) near a fictional embankment near the back door and somehow slowly slides, seemingly by intent, between the edge of part of the landing (on the left side) and down under the staircase and into the ground, which seems quite unusual in afterthought. My dream loses cohesion after this.