Blue_Opossum

Morning of March 20, 2014. Thursday.



I am seemingly at my sister Marilyn’s house, but it is not represented as such at all in my dream. Instead, I believe it is some sort of building where there is a documentary being pieced together - the otherwise large kitchen seems to be the main newsroom where the guests are discussing their fringe lifestyle. It concerns a group of about ten people who are involved in an isolated religious sect or cult to where they can only marry “alien cats” or whatever. These “alien cat people” are supposedly from a distant planet that has some sort of secret ties with the Earth and are somehow genetically compatible with humans.

However, the truth is being delved into in that the “cat people” are not really aliens but genetically and surgically altered domestic cats. There is a point at which I see one of the altered cats walking about somewhat clumsily on its two hind legs while only being slightly bigger than a typical house cat.

At a later point, a larger cat seems to try to eat my hand in the “living room” (this obviously comes from an image I saw on another user’s entry on one site as well as their dream itself). The room is different in that it has some sort of thinner fiberboard utility wall for tools or cords on the southern side and through the middle, halving the size of the area where I am. I do not think I can “reason” with the cat. It is quite annoying, but I am not hurt. It dawns on me eventually that it would be quite problematic to be “married” to an alien cat person even if such had any other potential relative to the media attention or weird isolationist religion.

Night of March 20, 2014. Thursday.



It is either late at night or a couple hours before dawn. A gentle soothing rain is falling (which seems to be a form of healing or the presence of rejuvenating energies). My family and I as we are now are in the backyard at our present home on W Street. My wife Zsuzsanna has a beautiful radiant presence in the semidarkness. Our children mostly remain on the back stairs.

The water is very high yet not considered as a flood. Zsuzsanna is near the back porch and washing a thin layer of mud from a cow. She is chest high in the water and seems very happy. The cow’s head and part of the back is all that is above the water. My dream is vivid and accurate with regard to the setting, orientation, and physical awareness, other than the fact that the ground level would have to be lower to imply the depth of the water as relative to the porch and steps. My dream has a very cheerful and peaceful mood, with a sense of bliss.

I am becoming partly lucid. My dream remains vivid and positive and seems to last about fifteen minutes. I do not question why we have a cow in our small backyard in an urban area.

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This dream is primarily a form of sustained induction or re-induction and I perceive Zsuzsanna as the inducer here. Water symbolizes sleep (in real time). There is no apparent waking symbolism initiated here (although a cow could be considered as an early morning waking prompt factor as a cow is milked early in the morning).

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This dream seems loosely based (at least partly) on a negative real-life event of Zsuzsanna’s. Zsuzsanna, as a child, had a cow with the same name as a grandmother of mine (mother’s side), but it had drowned. This may also relate to an alteration of Zsuzsanna’s maiden name into “Hathor”. I think this dream may be injecting new associations and positive energies into an older sorrowful memory of Zsuzsanna’s yet somehow for my benefit or just reminding me of the lifelong Hathor connection with my “mystery girl” (and may also relate to Jennie Haniver in a subtle way relating to being in the water).

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Night of March 20, 2014. Thursday.



As I have said in previous entries, I never include scripted dreams unless my script is only a generic affirmation (such as “I am the continuity of maximum well-being” or “I am of the light of Universal Love”, and so on), as it would not be fair to people who do not have that option or access to how it is done or are even aware that it can be done (and people who would never believe such a thing, especially including those who deny lucid dreams exist). However, I have decided to post some aspects of some scripted dreams from time to time, only regarding the fully “open” branches (meaning the details that are not precisely scripted).

I create about six or more different scenarios and foundational elements (as a child I sometimes went on and on making a session that was way too long for normal sleep), sometimes using more precise wording, but there is a point at which more precise wording does not work exactly as it should (though it depends which “direction” the consciousness is flowing). I suspect this is due to certain parts of the higher mind during half-sleep to deep sleep to be separated from certain language centers and the fact that many words in the English language have several (even opposite) meanings. Because of how the mind pulses especially during sleep paralysis when it becomes more noticeable, some words are even naturally omitted in sequence; that, and the fact that if the residual pattern is no longer fully going on its own momentum so to speak, there will be hilarious changes (as with the recent white gorilla dream).

In this case, I have a setup with the potential for purposeful shared dreaming on a regular basis. However, as I have said before, even scripted shared dreaming has “filters” by which each person is set into their own perspective of the scenario - for example, the deliberately shared dream from years ago where a (unscripted aspect) hollow silver ball radiating healing energies doing figure eights above me was actually a toy airplane flying in a figure eight in my wife’s dream - this one being remarkable as there was no mention of sound and no real sound as such at the time - yet we both heard the exact same loud humming frequency in our deeper dream state at the same time. It sometimes happens unintentionally (and as I have learned, another person does not even need to know what the script even is if they sleep next to that person who does). Also consider that two people watching the same movie in real life will “experience” and interpret it in different ways. That does not mean they are not watching the same movie - because they obviously are.

I used one of my favorite foundations regarding the Enchanted Forest (the more “swampy” section) and the tree-house scenario (which is always different since I leave a lot “open”). In this particular case, the beauty was astounding. Two of the more effective words to use are “beautiful” and “happiness”. These words are remarkable in the power to alter the flow of semiconscious thought, though there are many more that are basic but also powerful. Because I had the special audio pulsing to my right and also had the humidifier going (in rotating mode), it created a “perfect” rhythmic flow of sound and moving air (white noise and patterned sensations on the body). As I have said often before, “healthy” is usually the word to use, not “healing”. With “healing”, the mind forms the unresolved idea of perpetual healing, and in the lucid dream state, makes holes and cysts in your body to be filled or healed in the dream or come up with fictional (in-dream only) scenarios by which you are later partially “healed”. Words take on a life of their own, so the correct ones are important. When using “I am healing” - the phrase triggers the circumstance that the healing is never complete and you might even absentmindedly get into situations where you need additional healing.

During the first part of the night, before I burned the CD and set up our system, I was talking to Zsuzsanna about the idea of “forcing” myself to believe I had taken a dream enhancement drug of whatever kind. “Convincing” my mind that I had taken a particular drug and actually taking a particular drug makes no difference (which is why I have never taken any in the first place in my lifetime). She said I might also have some of the inherent side effects claimed by some people (even if I did not know what they were or were supposed to be, due to the nature of how the supraconscious works) and, even though the body can supposedly produce any kind of chemical on its own, there may be unknown potential negatives in this idea. Not only that, it is pointless anyway, as I can dream without drugs. In the long run, I do not think it is a good idea to tamper with perceptions of molecules and compounds at the liminal level.

The marshy forest is beautiful and vivid. The detail of the “tree-house” is amazing. Curiously, though, it looks just like a large old Swiss farmhouse built high in the large branches and with a flower-box midway up on at least one side. I am in this part of my dream for what seems like a very long time, sort of hovering and moving about fairly close to the environment and feeling very blissful, almost ecstatic. I am later on a larger branch or a platform on one of the large branches. During this same time my wife said she had been dreaming of a light coming from under a door.

A younger Caucasian girl comes out, with longer brown hair, and wearing a shimmering orange dress (pure orange, yet also somewhat lamé-like in properties of the material) and a fresh wreath of flowers on her head - she is radiating an almost overwhelming sense of happiness and openness (this always occurs in this type of scene, though) and with a sort of glow about her (the “sped-up” cilia-like energy form I described once in my older online journal from 2008, I think). There is that very precise and vivid feeling of when a person walks up to you and you are aware of the slight change in the scent of the air and a subtle feeling of movement. Anyhow, none of the additional details regarding the setup were scripted. The age, race, style of dress, culture, century of living, etc. - none of those were in the scripting - which was short and very open - just a goddess-like form that could have been any passing-by random entity so long as there were positive intentions and openness only. As I bask in my dream’s full point of lucidity and light, I am aware of a vague second-layer of commentary coming in, almost like a fuzzy radio broadcast. Her name is “Princess Dunn”. Around this time, I hear that it is fully “Princess Dunn Duty”. (It actually seems more like a layered dream at this point - that is, two dreams simultaneously - the overwhelmingly lucid one and a normal one at the same time.) However, I “gasp” myself out of the scene due to not being able to handle the particular state of bliss and move more back into images of trees and forests and my body slowly “recovers” from the “rapidly and continuously melting” effect. Still, it was a good “coloring” of my mind which will last for some time (at least a day or so). I still feel a sense of bliss several hours later.

Of course, a variation could be “Dudie”, “Doodie”, “Dutie”, and so on, as well as “Dunn” being like “Done”…“Done Duty”.

But anyway…wait…

“Princess Dunn Duty?”

I think it is time to start scripting names…

Morning of March 19, 2014. Wednesday.



This morning I dreamt of a familiar well-known actor who had long brown hair and who appeared to be about twenty-five years old. However, I could not remember his name. I also could not remember what movies I had seen him in. I thought and thought about it and his name did not come to me, even after several hours. Later, in real life, I had to go shopping for groceries. While walking past the meat section, and seeing a pack of processed bacon, it suddenly dawned on me and I remembered his name. Kevin Bacon. How amusing.

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In my dream, I am not sure of where I am living. I believe it is my older sister Marilyn’s house. (Marilyn died this year on February 13th.) The rest of the neighborhood is very different than real life. There is a large field directly to the north. There are a few cars here and there. These cars all seem to either belong to Kevin Bacon, or he is fixing them up for friends and relatives. He seems very cheerful and friendly, and quite young compared to his present real age. He is mostly using an orbital sander on the bodies of the cars at first, mostly the fronts. However, he eventually goes inside a van and does some sort of welding and a very strange mood enters my dream - as if it is very likely that there will be an explosion caused by whatever he is doing in the van. Still, that never happens regardless of how anticipated it is.

I converse with him about the type of paint he is using relating to the automobiles and how the finish is completed. A strange idea is discussed about how a car only needs a finer finish in the front and how the back can just be left with a rough finish (supposedly because people only care about or look at the front of a car). He has much work to do but seems like a close friend and is happily tolerant of my impositions and presence as I ask him various questions. (I am not one hundred percent certain, but I do not presently recall dreaming of Kevin Bacon prior to this.)

My sister Marilyn eventually makes an appearance but she is somewhat transparent and not clearly defined, almost as if her presence is only an image from elsewhere. Her head, a bit larger than it should be, appears in our backyard at our present address (as my dream seems to shift to a different setting) at about the correct height, and she expresses an interest in the environment as she “walks” farther from the back of our house (more on the side closest the west fence that faces the street), but I never see the rest of her.

Morning of March 19, 2014. Wednesday.



There are kittens everywhere - and I do mean everywhere. They are en masse. The “ground” just outside our bathroom window at our present address is all kittens, seemingly in at least three layers. They are mostly all calico kittens of similar colors. During this time, I am also aware of small tunnels into the Earth that have larger stones around the openings and which go down into the Earth at about a twelve to fifteen degree angle.

Are all these kittens coming out of the Earth and covering the planet? It seems like it, but the tunnels and kittens are separate. The area of ground on the west end of our yard, to the back of the house, is entirely covered, but they are only on ground and grass for the most part. They cannot seem to move very much or very far from where they are wiggling and rolling. An unusual sight, sort of pretty or at least intriguing in a way, but still strange. They do not seem to be harmed in any way or showing signs of stress or injury.

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I have had similar dreams in the past, including one where I was hovering over the inside of a large chicken farm and seeing infinite white chickens and another dream with endless turkeys. This seems to be some sort of coalescence metaphor or possibly the reverse, that is, conscious energies being divided while in the dream state.

Night of March 17, 2014. Monday.



Having made six more deliberate (precision-wise) “portal” potentials with a third-person phrasing (other than the usual first or sometimes second-person aspects) with my special audio, I reached a state (which is still residual) that is comparable to an intensely blissful “flesh continuously melting off my body” effect - again, a sort of “misty” feeling, that is; my body being made of a light mist and with an enhanced conscious focus. I have always wondered why this was the case - that is, why my special audio is seemingly more powerful (and in-state controllable) than any type of drug - at least with regard to imagery and physical comfort as well as less randomness during the same time period. Certainly the mind can be set in this way with healthy methods such as this (without external chemicals of any kind) - which changes the perception of the body and instigates automatic deeper breathing and an overwhelming urge to continuously stretch every muscle which I eventually learned years ago was very important to maintain health and balance energy. Sleep paralysis is quite blissful as well (though many people write about it in a way that is completely different than how I have normally experienced it and even associate it with nightmares).

I first shift through various environments, mostly forest-like. However, there is one area that is somewhat like a large fountain of some sort, of moss-covered rock, with steps of the same general appearance going up to one edge. I am not fully sure of the purpose. It is almost more like a very small swimming area that goes around to make the doubled outline of a large square. I thought it might be something more relevant to the outside of a building for decorative purposes (similar to a flower-box), but I see no buildings or shelters of any kind or perhaps the building had fallen with the external bordering pool or fountain still left standing. The water itself is very clear and pure and I believe someone may be swimming there but not sure who. The area is going through some sort of growing speed of transition as I feel a sense of bliss in the changes and momentum, even in the very air around me.

Later, a girl (unknown) is seated in a meditation position on the ground in a clearing, cross-legged and radiating some sort of magnetic-like pattern, which seems to have an effect on the direction the wind is blowing and how the plants are growing. She lifts her hands up on my approach and a bright cloud-like form moves about her hands, superimposed on the palms somewhat and “wiggling” a bit in the air, rapidly. This is some sort of healing energy, which intensifies my lucidity for a time. I do not speak to any of the characters or to the environment itself as I sometimes do.

Another female (unknown) is on her stomach on a large branch of an ancient tree (possibly cypress, but not certain - it is not really that swampy or marshy) more than six feet up, it seems. Either her “hair” is long, large black and white feathers that are swept back, or it is some sort of headdress. Silvery eyes watch me. There is a slight but genuine smile, but more like a subtle patronizing regarding the tolerance of my presence. I sense smaller animals scurrying about in the underbrush, perhaps woodland voles. There is a strong scent of damp Earth. I almost get the impression of being seen as a “pet” by the universe or entities around, but that is probably oversimplification.

Morning of March 17, 2014. Monday.



I am riding in an unfamiliar nice car with a few other people. They remain unknown until the last scene. I am in the back seat. As we are going along through a mostly rural area during late afternoon, I get the vague idea to journey into “my” Enchanted Forest setting (even though I am not lucid at any point in my dream). I almost always enter it at about a twenty-two degree angle from the northern treeline while going east (depending on the overall directional orientation, which is sometimes ambiguous) but in this case, we seem to be traveling on the south edge of the area. I have gone in from other directions in dreams of years ago, but the fictional area “looks different” in that it is less Florida-like than usual.

I give instructions on where to turn and the car goes in (to my right) at about a thirty degree angle and I notice another car parked along the road as we go down the road through the dense forest. As we go along, four more cars are parked on the left side of the road in fairly close proximity, and there are also several buildings (left side only other than the small restaurant near where the road merges with the highway - which is to the right), mostly rural residential and not uniform as would be the case in an urban setting. It seems quite annoying and “wrong” that there are other people here - especially human-built structures. Not only that, we quickly come to the other side that opens out onto a highway of the same basic appearance as the one we had been on just before turning. My Enchanted Forest and secret “place of power” thus only seems about two city blocks wide, if that. I state my annoyance but not that aggressively. I am disappointed (but there is no embarrassment as would be the case in a more vivid dream when an “audience” is present as here).

We get out and look around. There are no other people around as if the area had been temporarily abandoned. I do not think there are health concerns (as perhaps a result of a chemical spill or whatever) - it just seems that the people left inexplicably, leaving their cars along the road as well. This may not be my Enchanted Forest. The inactive and seemingly abandoned outdoor restaurant has unlocked accessible shelves, where I grab a box of Kellogg’s Corn Flakes cereal and a carton of milk, as I am feeling hungry. “Doc” from “Gunsmoke” (Milburn Stone) does the same thing and is soon seated near me (to my right) at an outdoor counter, which is higher up than a picnic table, although I believe he took a box of Post’s Sugar Krinkles.

Soon, James Arness (probably the car’s driver - I had not been paying much attention), as his Matt Dillon character, starts complaining about how we all stole the cereal. (The other cast members are also apparently hungry, including Amanda Blake and Ken Curtis.) He says something in a somewhat dramatic and patronizing manner - along the lines of “it was honest men that made this country what it is and built it up to the great country it is today” (referring more to the 1870s America, I think).

I turn around and boldly, without hesitation, look at him face to face, “…and men need food and nourishment to live or there would be no men in the first place to make this country,” I reply sarcastically. I then start to loudly call him a number of rude slang names in a few different languages, including curse words and obnoxious phrases. I and the others continue to eat our cereal with no additional drama or conflict.

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The personified preconscious in this case is James Arness as Matt Dillon. His accusations of me (and “Gunsmoke” cast members other than him) stealing the cereal are of course ridiculous. One cannot steal anything in their own dream. This is perhaps because I am not yet awake and eating a real breakfast, so I am possibly wasting time by “stealing” the idea of eating it (without getting real nutrition). (The preconscious as this character is perhaps exaggerating how big and strong I can be by waking up and eating a real breakfast.)

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Morning of March 16, 2014. Sunday.

Dream #: 17,254-04. Reading time: 1 min 15 sec.



I am unsure where I am living. I seem to be my present age, though I am also in a house with a character that looks like my father at certain times. Zsuzsanna is living here and maybe my mother. The house is somewhat like the one from Barolin Street.

I move a few of my belongings to maintain order. At one point, I see the furniture is in a different arrangement, and I am angry (although the rooms are tidy). I yell about how things have been changed and plan on moving everything back the way it was. It was my “father” that did this. (I have never yelled at my father in real life. We had a positive spiritual relationship.)

My “father” is varied each time, with his head an odd shape and with a different face. There is a scene where he resembles him more. His legs seem to grow thinner, and he may be having a fit. I ask him several times if he needs an ambulance.

Two couches, chairs, some of my belongings, and bookcases are in the center of a room in a pile. Zsuzsanna seems annoyed. He seems to have done it as an act against the criticism received from moving the furniture in the previous scene.

I am concerned about where everything is. There is a point where my “father” hits me but lightly, by punching my cheek, barely making an impact. (It seems to be the Barolin Street kitchen). (My father never hit me in real life.) I create a drama about a court case as the result of this action, asking Zsuzsanna to “call my lawyer.” (I never had a lawyer in real life.) I call my “father” a skinny “punk.” At this point, he seems much younger than me; a blonde Caucasian, barely older than a ninth-grader. His clothes change throughout as well.

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Morning March 15, 2014. Saturday.



Sometimes when more precise dream scripting meanders and fails while in the dream state, yet still holds the residual patterns in part, the result can be ridiculous and ironic.

As I have stated before, I do not normally include scripted dreams, as that would be unfair, only ones built with generic affirmations such as “I am the continuity of maximum well-being”, though real-time thought and direct belief and expectation (without a specific phrase) is the most powerful and viable way of shaping a dream.

In this case, twelve multicolored butterflies eventually encircled the area (horizontally) so swiftly that they created a clear impression of a helicopter rotor - in fact, a subtle sound of a rotor was vaguely discernible later on during a transitional period. In such a case it is the dreamer making the dream rather than the dream making the dream self.

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At the beginning of my dream, I am working at the Ford Taurus-based factory as I had in reality years ago. The area seems to be the upstairs lunchroom though seems on the first floor in my dream. Awards are being given out based on service to the company. I am mostly on my own at one picnic table, but there are several other people in the room. Apparently I am in waste management and garbage disposal of some sort and there is a speech of appreciation for my service and how I have been rewarded with a new trash compactor for upcoming usage in my service to the company. (In reality, this is the compactor that exists on the southern end of the building - much scrap went out every day - probably as much as three cars or more in volume - though I never worked in any position relative to that.)

I am given an award in the same manner as a few other people. The trophy award looks like a horse’s saddle stirrup but larger and bent at somewhat of an L-shape, and is somehow pulled from the corner of the wall. It is an allover shiny silver. I hold it but do not comment or speak much.

Later on, people are standing and I think a few more people come in, but then it is more like a class reunion of some kind. I leave the area with a male coworker, as it is seemingly a ten-minute break period. I ask him about who the people are but I do not recall any responses. I ride a black motorcycle through an area that I take to be the entrance to the special location, the Enchanted Forest, which I have often dreamt of in the past, and I ride in at the familiar angle from the original road (about twenty degrees). There seems to be a dirt road at first, which I follow for a time, but then I just steer through various dense areas of the forest. It is very vivid and enjoyable.

The coworker is still with me (probably having been on the back of the motorcycle, as I remember someone else yelling in enjoyment, with a few more stressful yells regarding near misses with trees). I am near some outcrops of rocks and unusually narrow mound-like areas about six feet up, which are climbable. I soon have to use the bathroom. (It is rare for me to need to use the bathroom in a dream if I do not have to go in reality at the time). I get the idea to actually do this from the edge of a ledge whereby there is a small ravine across from a much higher hill (about double the height to where I am) with a ledge of about the same distance up and an even denser forest on the opposite side on the hilltop. I look down and it is like looking into a narrow area between two walls about four feet apart, with some shrubbery, but which arcs out in both directions towards the mound I am standing on.

Just as I start to get ready, I look around and down and notice a large white gorilla has entered the area. I am rather concerned, because, although I really do not want to hurt the ape, I really need to go to the bathroom and do not want an audience. I take out a rifle and notice the coworker is out of reach of the gorilla on a lower narrow outcrop of the mound, but the gorilla does not really seem threatening. The coworker tells me to shoot it in the head. I shoot it in the chest a few times, as well as the forehead and it goes down. However, a short time later, before I am able to relieve myself, it slowly gets up again, opening its eyes and calmly standing up and walking to the other side of the mound.

I am very annoyed. Can a man go to the bathroom in peace? My rifle changes into a sort of simplified machine gun (this morphing as a result of very vague lucidity at this point) and I start shooting at it again, over and over. The noise is not very loud, though, at least at first, but gets a bit louder prior to waking (and it also sounds more like a helicopter rotor). The white gorilla just stands there looking puzzled, not even annoyed or injured in any way. The bullets are so numerous, the area in the air eventually forms a solid but transparent and cylindrical ice-like horizontal waterfall-like effect from me to the gorilla. It creates the impression that I am sending small probes at the creature that apparently either have some sort of healing effect and are otherwise inconsequential. Not once does the gorilla seem angry or threatening in any way. So here I am, shooting and shooting and being inherently ridiculous. So much for a goddess-like indestructible “girl-illa” in a “white gown” in the Enchanted Forest. The white gorilla was a form of the goddess that I did not, for whatever reason, coherently manifest within the dream state. The gun in this case was still (partly as it was scripted, though not as a gun) a transference of energy rather than one of killing, confirmed by the small rapidly moving (and spinning while moving) transparent cylinders.

Morning of March 14, 2014. Friday.



Yes, I know…but my brain is too tired (too warm here) to come up with something creative or at least endurable for the title.

This dream has two mostly unrelated sections offset from each other and was kind of hard to follow, but I can summarize a few ideas including the movie-like “twist ending”.

I think it is in the 1980s in my dream. At one point, there seems to be a fictional house closer to the highway and just north of my Cubitis home where the first north/south row of the orange grove would be in reality. I have never dreamt of this fictional house or orientation before. I am in what is possibly the living room and an unknown person throws an orange at me through the doorway from somewhere near the neighbor’s house just south of us - or rather, it hits the ground outside and rolls through the doorway. I do not see the person; the orange just comes flying out of nowhere, but near ground level. Lisa is not living there, though. I pick up a steel bar to go knock the person unconscious for doing that.

I assume the house is abandoned for some reason (recurring), but there is a car parked in the driveway. I open the front door and there is a large bed in the middle of the living room and a television in the northwest corner of the main living room area. The size, ceiling height, and everything else seems fairly close to reality other than the bed. (However, there are some unusual additional shrubs covering much of one area of the yard just to the north, which I think should be removed for some reason.) There are three males on the large bed in various areas, just lounging around, one sitting on each end and another man in the middle. One of them is seemingly Randyl S (no idea about the others), a friend from La Crosse who had never lived in Florida to my knowledge. I say his name and he says “yes” (meaning that he acknowledges that is his name - though oddly, I am not certain if it is the same Randyl I knew). I do not use the bar on anyone and feel less angry at that point, yet I am not quite sure what to talk to him about - and I still do not know who threw the orange - it may not actually be one of the ones there in the room - I sense he may still be outside somewhere (near the outer southern wall of the house, maybe), or maybe it was meant to be a playful attention-getting act (it was not really threatening - just annoying).

The orange-throwing event is actually something that happened to my wife when she was younger. Her step father threw an orange so hard that it put a hole in the wall and it was near a doorway. (It is possible I had heard of this event so I am not tagging it as postcognition.)

Later, my dream shifts into a movie-like event, some of which had seemingly been established earlier somehow (prior to the previous scene described above). There is some sort of life-form that takes over a person and from there, makes identical clones of the person (even all the exact same clothing). I am not sure if it was originally an “engineered” creature made on Earth, or some sort of alien.

Anyhow, there are three unknown people, two males and a female. They are clever at getting away from the cloning creatures - or at least it seems that way. They are seemingly the last hope of the human race to stay human and individual. I watch in “hovering perspective”, still in the three-dimensional environment as the events unfold. There is a point at which there are a few clones wandering about, but they are not much of a threat, and there are not really that many.

I see the three main characters go through a supposedly secret area beyond a large section of hedges and into a hidden clearing - supposedly one of the last safe places to be away from the activity of the human-like cloning “creatures”. It turns out, however, that there are at least twenty or more clones of each of these three people, though they do not seem to acknowledge this at all. They are still planning something relating to dominance or at least long-term survival. This seems, in my dream, to be a rather entertaining surprise ending.

Morning of March 14, 2013. Thursday.



In my very vivid dream I am walking west with my family (wife Zsuzsanna and children), but seemingly in Brisbane instead of our present home. To the south (coming from Brisbane) is a tidal wave far in the distance rising up over the buildings. I tell everyone else on the streets to run and I keep saying that a tidal wave is coming. I then say, however, that we need to get to the hospital which is only about a block away in our present real-life location but does not fit the in-dream location. I say that because it is the tallest building in the immediate area in real life otherwise and I am thinking of getting every member of my family to the roof.

However, the event is getting closer and closer (probably with more speed and height than realistically that far inland). Firstly, I worry a bit about my youngest son, but he is close and is still with us. I see other people running but they do not seem very frightened.

I soon feel an amazing sense of cool water rushing down heavily onto me and see bits of foam everywhere. As we are trying to get up the wooden steps to the second-floor level of a building (the first floor is likely fully open with just storage space as are a lot of homes here) and with a taller building just behind me, it is an amazing feeling, incredibly vivid in terms of weight and pressure and overall sensations. However, I am fairly certain that had it been real it would have knocked me down and swept me away, but it is refreshing, even exhilarating, in-dream. It only causes me to bend down a bit as it hits me.

We manage to get up to the living room (there seems to be a “mirrored” flight of steps on the opposite side from where we entered). It appears to be a couple of Aborigines dressed in business suits (man and woman, about forty, facing each other at about twenty degrees) and standing near the front of the room. The television is on. I get the sense that one or more people had entered before us (through the opposite “mirrored” side) and may have already left or are in a different room. Another tidal wave comes, but it does not seem that dramatic. The water seems to be about waist-high outside.

Morning of March 12, 2014. Wednesday.



Normally I am not at all concerned or focused on my age in dreams (even though I am a lot younger in the majority of my dreams), lucid or otherwise, but this one was a bit different.

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I am in the pinhead’s apartment at the King Street boarding house. I am in a bed that would not have ever been in that location in real life, as it is aligned south and north (head to the north) along where the closet entrance would otherwise be, as well as blocking the door into the apartment. However, the dream places the doorway a bit more to the east. I am not sure if Leonard is still renting the place at that point, but he is there (though the room is mostly empty) and I am wondering if the owners are around. This is one of those dreams where I supposedly owe a lot of back rent, which is rather odd, especially considering the male owner died over twenty years ago in reality. (Probably Leonard has also passed on - when last I saw him years ago, he looked really tired and with snow white hair.) There seems to be some sort of long board from the ceiling or upper part of the wall that had fallen down and is also at an angle across most of the bed. I get the idea that the house has been in disrepair for a number of years even though people may be living there.

I get up and feel physically exhausted but am determined to enjoy myself. Even though I am not lucid, I still “know” that I can just jump out the window (from the second floor) and go flying off to the other side of town. I make the jump and it is an unusual sensation which also seems to make me feel a bit less groggy. I almost hit the ground, stopping at about a foot or so from the middle of the street and then quickly move back up near the tree tops, almost like some sort of bounce from something invisible and intangible.

As I fly northward, I seem to be aware of a large number of females on various areas of the sidewalk, each about a year apart in age, and each a version of my wife, somehow. One calls to me in a friendly manner. It is almost like some sort of timeline series or “age index” in real time, although that is not really a correct term in reality - but is what is manifest in the phrasing in the dream. I fly on to some sort of lighthouse in the middle of town (the nearest body of water being the Black River area of the Mississippi).

In the top of the lighthouse, I decide to see how long I will live. I will do this by turning a different “age index” until it reaches where my “oldest” age is recorded. I am not sure yet how I will recognize such data. The “age index” is like a long ski lift at first, with various number values as well as the notes of the musical scale continuing one octave after the next, each written in sequence on a different section of each ski lift chair. Every now and then, I notice an unfamiliar name on the side of a particular ski lift chair. It takes a lot of strength to pull the weight of the entire ski lift route by somehow forcing the ropes around from where the bull-wheel is, turning it manually, but I am able to with only mild discomfort. There are other people there who seem somewhat annoyed that I am disrupting their daily routine.

Over time, I come to my name written out just beyond a large Eb (E flat) note, printed at somewhat of an angle, and the number 59 in a nearby location. Another man seems happy that I will “live that long”. However, that is a young age to pass away, in my opinion, and is not that far off, really. However, Eb is actually the value of around 78 (near the age when my father died) whereas 59 is closer to the lower Bb in that range. (77.782 and 58.27 to be precise). At this point the ski lift seems slightly more like a Ferris wheel that I am somehow turning about.

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Night of March 11th, 2014. Tuesday.



This dream is of a fairly common type I used to have when younger (although mostly involving electric guitars), probably centering more on the mid 1980s. It all takes place in sister Marilyn’s house, mostly the living room, and my brother-in-law and mother are the only familiar characters.

There are two unknown males from a local music store, in rather drab-looking plaid long coats, who give me an acoustic guitar to try out, I believe as a trial run or possibly a week-long appraisal. (They remind me vaguely of two of brother Dennis’s unsavory friends from years ago.) The acoustic guitar looks really nice at first - and is supposedly the top of the line as well as very expensive - but unusual things happen to it automatically, over time.

Upon close examination, it seems the guitar actually has nine strings rather than six, but I do not think it relevant to how a twelve-string is setup and used. The e string, (the highest-pitched string) over time, seems way too loose, yet still provides the correct pitch when pulled on and let go (as it is so loose that it cannot be plucked normally). The string actually comes way out almost like a light rubber band, and I also notice it seems to be connected to the wrong tuning peg - which is a wooden cylinder like the other seven (four on each side and possibly one upright in the middle). However, I am not sure of the nature of the guitar to be certain about anything. The “middle string” (of nine) seems to not reach fully down and is actually tied to another string before it reaches the body or sound hole. As it does not even go to the bridge, I am not sure what the purpose of the weird setup is. It is possible, though, that there are two middle strings (for the implied fifth string position), one reaching the bridge as the others, and the smaller and shorter one tied over the top of it about the seventh fret down.

I try to play something but it does not sound right at all (not sure how I am making a chord with five fingers over nine strings anyway). I notice odd holes in each side near where the neck and body meet as if eaten away by worms. I am not sure what to do, as, if the guitar is on consignment, I do not want to damage it in any way if I decide to give it back needfully “like new”. Eventually, I notice more cracks and holes which are near where the sound hole is and lower down on the neck. The guitar soon starts to come apart in four separate pieces; the cracked body, two sections of the cracked neck, and an additional smaller triangular piece from off the bottom of the cracked neck. It is almost like some sort of fragile wood/Styrofoam mix. I am not sure what to do but I just put the whole mess down near the living room table.

My brother-in-law Bob cheerfully starts talking about different things, including fictional misadventures regarding me. He talks about how a lot of modern music is the same sound as passing wind at a busy train station, implying an undesirable assault on the senses. I walk to the back of the house to look out the window and at that point seem much younger. My mother is there and seemingly healthy.

When I go back to the living room, I notice my father’s old guitar in the soft chair near the telephone table - it is still in good condition. I think about taking the strings from the “junk” guitar and putting the good ones on my father’s guitar but do not get to before my dream fades.

In the long run, I guess my dream was only expressing my frustrating experiences and understanding of modern products, which often are not designed correctly (or have wrong parts integrated - such as our last washing machine) and which often decay or break a very short time after purchase, including important plumbing and sink parts (we even lived at a place where the large thin plastic bathtub had cracked down the middle of the bottom and had been glued back together). As I wake, I see a fair number of broken plastic hubcaps in various areas of the street, that had fallen off various random cars, as in real life. In real life, we have been through countless “fake” products, including an electric snow-cone maker (that was a gift) that only lasted one use. Product quality, along with mainstream media and authority’s credibility, could not get much worse, and I wonder how people will react in the future, if at all.

Morning of March 7, 2014. Friday.



I am in my bedroom in Cubitis, but it is different. There is not much furniture and the windows are of the type that open outward like French windows rather than jalousie windows (I wonder if this will turn out to be precognitive years from now as the sash-based replacements were). I seem to be only about fourteen years of age.

There is no window screen of any kind. I notice that a large bird comes into the room through the southern-most window on the west side and sits on a chair (I was aware of other large birds flying near the windows but only vaguely and I believe this was the only one that had been in my room at any time), which is the only furniture I take note of. It faces east into the room and from near the middle of the west wall. I am somewhat wary of it. There is a strange awareness or mood of “old royalty”. Larger birds in dreams when I was much younger often had a very eerie quality, especially herons and storks. This one seems to be some sort of large pelican though I am not sure of the species. I guess it could also be a phoenix, of which I have dreamt of rarely. There are both pelican and phoenix portraits of Queen Elizabeth I. An odd old myth states that a pelican would draw blood from its own breast to feed its young. In this case, then, the pelican could represent the sacrifices my mother had made for me.

I sense a sort of mystical power in the presence of the bird. I am not quite sure what to do. I notice that the curtain has fallen down over the window and I decide that I should probably move the curtain back so that the bird can fly out if it wants to, with enough room for it to not be concerned about feeling enclosed. At the same time, I do not mind if it stays in the room even though there is a vague thought of the mess it could make. I contemplate being very stealthy, because I do not want to alarm it (because it might injure itself) as I consider moving the curtain back. No drama ensues. I mostly stand in one spot, not moving, watching it.

I think this relates (to real life) somewhat to when we had a large raven in our house in Brisbane for a couple weeks, years ago, while its wing was healing (after being attacked by a neighbor’s dog). It used to sit on the back of the chair near my desk in the same manner.

In another dream, that resets several times in different ways, I am more in an abstract awareness of my breathing and location in time and space. There is the clear idea of the “layers” of breathing which is not a feasible concept as it is experienced in my dream state. It is as if I am breathing in the layered manner of a musical recording with at least three different elements (or “bands” of breath continuity) and three different ways of breathing occurring over the same time period. There is one long, even breathing at the “lowest” level and other additional breaths patterned now and then (a bit more sparsely but supposedly of a higher “pitch”) over the first layer. I can even sense the waveform of this type of breathing “pictured” about a foot above my head, but to the side or behind me in a three-dimensional spectroscopic field of about two feet in length. Of course, this makes no real sense because you can only breathe in and out in one breath at a time. Still, I clearly seem to have at least three different forms of breathing going on in rhythmic patterns over time - which realistically would require three different people to achieve in such a manner.

LINK TO PELICAN AND PHOENIX ELIZABETH PORTRAITS SYMBOLISM

Morning of March 6, 2014. Thursday.



My family and I are living in Brisbane in my dream. However, there is one part where I am in my old apartment on King Street - the middle one of the eastern side. I am looking at Google Maps and trying to determine where our house is from the above view, though the range is much closer than in reality. There is a fictional business full of stacks of old tires (on the corner of a block) where I can see them very closely from above (probably a link to Eco 3, where I worked as a teen), across from a similar business, where I first determine our house is supposed to be, which does not make much sense unless it is a much older image of the area before our house was built. There is a clear association of that area with the fictional restaurant that we owned and supposedly where we lived for a time - from a different dream - and I have intriguing false memories in-dream - of events and times there. I always find it interesting when dreams have clear associations and “memories” of fictional locations in prior dreams. Still, I eventually decide it is not the right location. Looking at the screen, I seem to see two Fifth Streets in a row (shown as 5th Street), running parallel, which seems very unlikely. I work out that one number is actually a six. (In real life, we have the same address as another in the same region, which seems sort of odd). (“Fifth Avenue”, though not directly associated with “Fifth Street”, is associated with unpleasant memories as a young adult, regarding both job injuries and highly corrupt authority, as well as it being the name of a candy bar I sometimes ate during the same time period - irony, I guess.)

I later discover that, for some reason, I have an unknown girl’s schoolbooks at a desk - which may have been either thrown out (perhaps even accidentally) or lost - and I or a family member had recently picked them up. There are three books in the set; the first is more like a textbook and it mostly shows images of military vehicles but there are not many question and answer sections, although there are various loose notebook pages with handwriting in pencil between some pages. I go through the pages for a reasonable amount of time. There are detailed drawings of larger trucks, jeeps, and tanks and the pages include details on various features of the vehicles and their purpose. I anticipate the next book and look through it, which is more workbook-like. I notice all or most of the work has been done, but I am still interested in a challenge of doing the work myself even though I see all the supposed answers. Most of the book is one long series of word associations in lists from phrases or partial phrases and it seems too cryptic in my opinion to make much sense as a task or assessment and I do not see the logic in any implied purpose. Each next phrase, starting from the top of the list, uses a word from the phrase before (with each continuing phrase having two spaces to fill). For example, one may be “He says that he ____ try”, followed by integrating one of the words into the blank of the next partial phrase, “____ you visit the admiral’s office to ____”, the first and second blank being “will”. Oddly, though, there are lines that are in Russian (only now and then), by which the words must be translated before going to next lines. I get the impression that the school was somehow training for the CIA or perhaps the army. I do not get to the third book before my dream shifts.

In the next section of my dream, I am walking through the neighborhood and notice an entire street of extremely decrepit and partially collapsed buildings. Most are residential, but there are also a couple larger business buildings on the corners of the block. I feel a bit strange (I guess a sort of mild embarrassment) living in a town with such features, as if the entire town may someday be like this and no one would maintain anything. There is concern that the front of some of the buildings might fall onto anyone walking through the area. (A neighbor has a garage like this in real life. The entire front is at an angle and there is a wider vertical crack almost all the way from top to bottom. Also, I missed, by mere seconds, an entire garage falling on me, while inside, when we lived in Brisbane years ago.) I talk to the mayor when he mentions that work may be done in the future. I tell him that the area should be transformed into a haunted-house-themed park. He seems to think I am being sarcastic and obnoxious, but I am actually sincere in my idea. I tell him it would draw more people to the town and boost the economy somewhat. (In real life, the town we live in is having more and more businesses closed, some because of the recurring floods, bankruptcy, and so on.)

I am eventually in a house of someone I do not know and the woman’s son and daughter are getting ready for school as she sits at a table in the living room or dining room. I have some sort of magical ability and create a large apple on the table with unusual properties. It is “doubled”; that is, more like two apples fused together into one so that it has two stalks and two calyx areas. The apple is somewhat angular, narrower at the bottom than some other varieties. The woman is seemingly not that impressed or even “bothered” by my magic and I move my hand about and it changes into a different variety of apple, growing slightly darker.

While at the school (location unknown), I decide to ask the girl to stay free for the day and she seems happy about not going into the school. Her brother is apparently still going and seems slightly annoyed. There is a picnic table where I move my hand over the surface and, directly under my right hand, two times in a row, a glass of water grows up from the table as I lift my hand from the surface each time. It seems an interesting magic trick in appearance and sensation. Picnic tables have always been a common feature in my dreams, even in unlikely locations (such as inside houses or in otherwise fancy restaurants).

A movie, documentary-like, is later made of my life, yet also seems to be “real” with the additional characters in their own lives supposedly as themselves. It stars Bill Cosby (yes, I know - highly unlikely to play me) as his “magical” character in “The Meteor Man” and Nicola Cowper as the girl who never went back to school from that day. It may relate to reviewing a couple older dreams such as “My Final Body” and "‘Meteor Men’ and the last of the gypsy carnivals”, because sometimes that happens, especially during the start of hypnopompia and surfacing recent associations.

There was also an offset section of my dream where my sister Marilyn, who had passed away recently, had a (fictional) younger relative who looked exactly like her and was in her house. It seemed vaguely comforting. This part also had a scene where I was looking at workbooks of some kind, on a coffee table, I think calculus or physics.

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