Blue_Opossum

Morning of January 1, 2014. Wednesday. This is the second longer dream of the new year…I am almost certain I have had this scenario in part, at least a few times, as a young teenager, but have not checked.



It is the time and location of “The Chrysalids”. Prudence Wender (Prudence Farrow) is in isolation and finally moves to the Fringes, but goes back to see family on a regular basis (up until a point where it is not feasible due to a “revolution” of sorts). The Fringes is ruled by the Beatles, but mostly John “Spider-Man” Lennon. Someone of the normal human colony tells me “meditation lets in demons” (a comment I have seen in real life a few times - assuming they were actually serious, which frankly, is hard to believe, but then…“look around” as they sing in “Dear Prudence”) and I say “if meditation lets in demons, then when you actually sleep, you must become Satan” (Well, it follows the logic assuming one believes in such things which I do not).

The “normal” region is ruled by farmers and judgmental politicians (to keep any diversity of any kind from unfolding - even the usual natural diversity - cannot have actual truths scaring people) much as in the story. Obviously, neither “normal” society (although I enjoy farms in real life and would not mind living on one again) or the Fringes is suitable for me and my group. “Dear Prudence” is one of my favorite Beatles songs (second-favorite bass-line of any song). New Zealand (“Sealand”), for some inexplicable reason is mostly Native American and Romani, led by Buffy Sainte-Marie, yet they have large helicopters to “rescue” certain people from the other two locations and are the most developed.

Michael the telepath fails to reach the helicopters. Instead, he climbs a rope (thinking it to be a line from one of the “Sealand machines”). It turns out to be a rope from a basket being played by a Hindi man and only goes up so far (based on the East Indian rope trick). Too bad. Paul McCartney stands around playing acoustic guitar and singing (“Can you take me back where I come from?”).

I mistakenly end up on a jungle vine and swing around like a pitiful Tarzan (apparently someone is filming all this - the Fringes people, it seems, or a group of reporters that follow them). However, unlike the others, I am the only one that gets to Sealand where my wife had already been living (actually only having lived in Australia, not New Zealand). Pegasus comes and I ride comfortably to a helipad (this likely being a variation on the hundreds of prior times involving “Faithful and True”, but usually without wings). Interestingly, the giant Sealand metropolis also has deep forests integrated with certain areas, and we head there. I cannot wait to feel a sense of normalcy and peace.

This is the first dream (first hour, in fact) of January 1, 2014. Wednesday.



My dream mostly involves watching a live stage and audience-participation performance of “Ragtime Cowboy Joe” that keeps going on and on…and on. It actually gets fairly tedious and there is a mechanical bull contest as well. Even a barbershop quartet sings it as they move to various locations around the Concordia in Wisconsin (setting), where my father performed it in real life years ago (as well as on the radio shows many years back), the hall of which seems filled with people from various time periods, even the “roaring twenties”. There is also a loose association with “Table Top Joe” (“Alice” album by Tom Waits).

Real-life memories come back indirectly and then more fully. I had planned a “jumping-jack” puppet show using thinner but commercial cardboard cutouts (from the Popsicle product) and Popsicle sticks, but decided it was not professional-looking enough. It was “Ragtime Cowboy Joe” we (the other students and I) had planned. Instead, I basically ruined the show with a dog hand-puppet and my voice could not be heard so I just introduced the next classmate (who could not hear me until I slowly yelled his name a couple of times - ironically he is now a well-known singer based in Germany), accidentally (absentmindedly) calling his seashell collection “rocks”. He was not quite prepared yet and did not look too happy and blundered his way through the names and locations in a seemingly sad voice.

That memory triggers a similar later real-life scene (from fifth grade, likely because of the line “How they run, when they hear this fellow’s gun” of the former song) where I used finger-puppets. (Can you imagine someone in fifth grade using finger puppets at a performance in this day and age?) It was a family of rabbits. I can still remember “Bang bang went the gun, see the little rabbits run” which I intoned so mechanically, the whole class sat dazed. My face felt hot for an hour. However, I was involved with other shows that were not that bad.

The third memory before shifting back to the maddening crowd is when my father made a life-sized jumping-jack puppet from thin wood and old antenna cord, representing a “Martian”.

Morning of January 1, 2014. Wednesday.



This was the 3rd dream of this new year.

Setting: Unknown 2-storey mansion with an unusual mezzanine that comes down near floor-level with an unlikely (and space-consuming) long stairwell that is only about two feet above floor level. Time (day or night) unknown.

Characters:

My half-brother on mother’s side Earl, who died (in real life) and appears as a ghost in the dream (recurring). This is the most vivid character and scenario.

My half-sister on mother’s side Marilyn and her husband (although her husband is a less-vivid presence, though not a ghost).

Two elderly ladies I can only associate at first within the dream with the Baldwin sisters from “The Waltons” - a show I have not seen in about twenty years. This seems a temporary alteration (or “revolving” character set) of the next characters…

Elderly version of Alice Liddell (deceased) and deceased relative Francis L as the Queen of Hearts at one point.

Four-way composite character (possibly a “revolving” character): Teenage version of Barbara Steele, teenage version of Valerie Bertinelli - possible “One Day at a Time” (television series) association with respect to more detailed journal keeping “a day at a time” - slight 1988 association with “Pancho Barnes” (Amelia Earhart-like), teenage version of Isabella Rossellini (otherwise later of “Death Becomes Her”) - slight 1988 association (“Zelly and Me” and/or “Portrait of a Woman” exhibit), and a teenage version of my wife.

Events:

The first event is most vivid but not lucid. My brother appears as a strong presence (but as he was when I was about six), but I only see him at my side when I look in a mirror. I am passive with this presence and try to determine what he wants. He seems to wonder why only I can see him and wants to talk with other relatives downstairs but does not seem to understand that he has died.

The two elderly women seem to own the mansion but are not aware that they have died; they follow my sister and her husband down a flight of steps - my relatives seem to be aware of a presence but they mostly doubt it, although they do seem to notice objects moving by themselves. One of the ghosts needs to “breastfeed” and is given a pacifier by the other after being frustrated that no one is hearing her. She eventually lies down in a half-height wooden “coffin” that is jury-rigged to the balustrade on the mezzanine’s corner somehow. Possible association with the Baldwin sisters and being “pacified” by alcohol. Impression of relative Francis wearing a pacifier instead of a cross (have had this before but cannot recall when). There actually are pacifiers with a cross. Weird association with Francis treating ailments (supposedly) as in real life but with the Baldwin persona’s “Papa’s recipe” (alcohol).

The “revolving” girl (in blue jeans) is not aware I see her/them. She remains mostly near the low balustrade under the unlikely mezzanine. There is a tape deck in that area on a table at the corner of where the lower steps turn at ninety degrees. She seems to be involved with listening to headphones (as if she thinks the sounds are from the real environment; for example, as suddenly transported from elsewhere where she had never worn them), which are playing religious podcasts (Theosophy) and Split Enz music. Soon, though, the headphones break and the wiring is exposed. She is unaware of the real material world completely. There is a play on the pulled, slightly bent wiring seeming like “split ends” (hair). I think about fixing the wiring (splicing) or perhaps trying to communicate, am not sure how to approach. Fade out. Feminine energy overload.

Morning of December 30, 2013. Monday.



My dream takes place in a mostly true-to-life version of our house in Brisbane on Stadcor Street in Wavell Heights. We have not lived there for years. My immediate family is as it is now in my dream, though. It is probably mid-morning. There are a few people visiting, but they had all been in the backyard; including my sister-in-law at a much younger age (when my brother first met her), my wife’s sister-in-law, and possibly others. My wife and the two of them are walking around in the backyard without a top on, but this is extraordinarily uneventful, as it solely seems to relate to breastfeeding their babies. They seem to be going around the side via the driveway, though, which would be more in public view from the street.

I become aware of the noise from a semi engine in front of our house. As I am not fully dressed, I want someone else to check it out while I mostly remain in the small hallway near the kitchen. My oldest daughter Amelia eventually goes to the living room and out to check what the person may want.

I hear a man talking for what seems like a long time as the semi is still idling. It seems fairly vague in what is implied at that point. I am not lucid, but there does seem to be several “practiced” changes and repeated shorter scenes relating to changing ideas during that time (as with many of my dreams). The possible elements relate to…

1. A normal parcel post delivery for my oldest daughter.
2. Some sort of police investigation relating to safety checks of “suspicious packages” during the holidays (of which I have seen a few shows on television where they find and investigate suspicious packages).
3. A very large delivery for my family and I (filling the whole semi trailer), including a larger Christmas tree, decorations, and possibly furniture, which seems a bit strange and I am somewhat annoyed at possibly having to help move it all, as there is likely only the one driver.& This being the case, it may also relate to some sort of party for lonely single people relative to a charity(?) being at our house for some reason. I guess such is my “duty”.
4. Someone who is lost and looking for directions.
5. Someone to collect a package that was recently delivered to our house by mistake and is actually for the next-door neighbors.
6. An investigation over a package that we somehow (possibly) attained wrongfully, like with a fake or stolen bank account or some such or from a business that is under investigation (for “knockoffs”, that is, cheap fake copycat products of known brands).

Eventually, my dream becomes more stable and a scenario regarding number one and number four above is what finally “fades in” as the actual continuing dream elements. I look out and see my oldest daughter standing near the semi cab. The man (of about forty years of age) is driving a mostly allover darker purple semi. (Purple symbolically represents the deepest level of conscious awareness, seemingly the portal to the supraconscious, being 400 nanometers at the physical level - so part of this may be about “delivering” forms or ideas from the “darker” less-explored domains into wakeful awareness). The man, as well as giving my daughter her parcel, explains that he is looking for his new residence, as he has recently moved to the area. It is actually Pilliga Street (in exact orientation from our house) that he is moving to, but it changes to Thistledown Street in my dream, which is in Tinton Falls, New Jersey, USA (possible tentative plays for no particular reason on “down” of Thistledown and “falls” as well as “new” of New Jersey). Apparently there is also a Thistledown pub he will be living near and it seems to be a small apartment for a single male, although in real life, the New Jersey address in the USA is actually occupied by a new condo (built this year) for about $2,000 a month (twice our rent for this dump, ha, but about four times bigger).

This had a partial layer of precognition (as usual) in that my oldest daughter did get a delivery via truck a bit after my waking (no way of me knowing) and spent some time “talking” and laughing later (on a forum) about a purple aspect of something she got. Also, tonight, my wife ended up talking to a woman she somewhat knows (she calls “the cat lady”) who had gone to a charity Christmas party for “lonely single people”, so that is three minor facets of composite precognition, which is pretty standard from day to day.

Purple is not usually that dominant a color in my dreams relating to the environment (such as lager objects, houses, vehicles, and so on). However, more developed tulpas and “higher entities” often wear purple and white in near-equal combinations of gossamer (which is my most visually striking color combination). I did buy my wife a purple and white set years ago and she looked fantastic and dreamy.

Afternoon of December 30, 2013. Monday.



This seemed to be about twenty minutes. I found myself face to face with a mostly static construct of a Peruvian girl, but with slight first-stage tulpa-like motions, such as very slightly side-to-side moving eyes - a very slightly moving lower lip - and so on - and slight second-stage pupil dilation - the “usual”. I am listening to a digitally constructed audio (pulsing/phrasing of my own design) and fall into the dream state after about ten minutes. I notice over time (and is something I seem to have noticed often before with such implied “higher beings” though human for the most part), that it seems their skin is lightly marked with various subtle lines or even (reptilian) “scales” or perhaps bird-feather designs very slightly embossed on the epidermis (yeah - saw “The Visitor” aka “Stridulum” from ‘79 one too many times, apparently - nobody’s perfect); but here, almost like implied tectonic plates of the Earth. This realization has struck me several times before (mostly only over the last year or two).

However, it is different this time, eventually. It turns out she has the Nazca lines (the ones representing the hummingbird) lightly scarred with very slightly lighter flesh tones on her left cheek (my right), and for a moment seems like an upside-down sketch of the NBC peacock logo (which I have not seen in years).

From there, I hear a very discernible sound like “HAUL!” (not the word, just a sound like this). It seems to be a person at first, an odd male voice, perhaps outside near my window in real life (but very unlikely as it seems to be in the center of my mind), but then it seems to be a large black bird. I try to decide if it is an audio distortion in my dream state filtering through the actual vocal sound script, or if it is something actually heard in real life. I hear it again and become almost startled and a bit wary.

Eventually, there seems to be a flash of red inside me (first time ever at this particular level of lucidity - usually it is another version of the “Blue Pearl”) and a sort of design (of a slightly different shade, a little more towards orange) like something representing the sun (as a “primitive” symbol) with a sort of slightly arced sawtooth waveform around the circumference, slanted clockwise and, other than mostly of a solid color, with slight detail of short white lines here and there, some z-shaped, as well as the general outline of the symbol itself (not really like the picture at all, but I have used it anyway here for “mood”), almost as if a child tried to unite a symbol of the sun with one of the ocean (or even a circular swimming pool), but staying orange-red. There is only a sense of a circular roaring fire for a short time, but no actual burning sensations. It seems to be sourced from within my chest.

From there, the usual pain at the base of my back (which I have been having for about a week or more - as the other weird premonitory spasms have finally stopped after over a year) now seems just below my right shoulder (having moved like an energy form of sorts) and I notice the black bird flying from my right (seeming to have “jumped” from my spine), then seeming to shrink (or grow smaller in implied distance, but not correct to scale, as it is still inside the room yet more like the size of a canary) into a yellow cloud or a yellow sky that is only partially open like a miniature portal of sorts. This seems connected very slightly to the dream where my sister had bird-beak-shaped (or “butterfly”/“hourglass”) welts on her body, but only vaguely. I am not sure if this was a negative energy-form leaving me (and the “form” causing all those premonitory spasms for so long), or a part of me going off on a quest, who can say. It is as ambiguous as ever.

This actually distracted me from a completely different intent this session (but I certainly would not call it a non-event or “fail”), but it looks like it is going to be an interesting year.

Morning of December 29, 2013. Sunday.



Unfortunately, relating to my sister, this dream turned out to be precisely precognitive - in several different ways regarding other aspects as well.

For some reason that has no real-life logic or associations whatsoever, my family and I seem to be driving through the middle of Texas, USA (possibly Austin at one point but towards Abilene) with an unknown male (relative?) Although it seems to be near the center of the state eventually, there is a fictional place where Texas and three other states join perfectly in the middle - which makes such little sense, I wonder why I did not see the erroneous “logic” right away - how can a state have a place in the middle of its large area (miles and miles from any border) where it is the intersection of four states? Ridiculous. At one point, there is a huge dome-like structure of ice that covers seemingly the entire region (but perhaps represents where the fictional state borders connect), but is not that high in the air. Near the center is a five-pointed-star-shaped opening to the sky, it seems. There is another area where a similar structure, or set of structures made of ice are seen. Ice and snow everywhere in Texas (as in the far north), four joining borders in the center of a larger needfully borderless region. Weird and entirely without sense. Oh well.

The other dream is quite moody and serious. It seems my sister is in the state of dying, but also seems like an entirely different person for much of the time in terms of appearance. She is still alive as of this writing, but has had a lot of health-related problems over the years, many related to smoking and being overweight. At one point, she looks like a taller Caucasian woman (possibly English) of about seventy or more, with light hair and a longer and more angular face than my sister ever had. My wife and I are at her home. It seems like the house will be ours at one point (inherited, apparently), which makes no sense, as my sister rented that place and no longer lives there (Loomis Street). I start thinking about planning to move all of our possessions to the USA somehow. At one point, I am wondering what had happened to my brother-in-law. However, there is an even stranger distortion. My sister, in my dream, is seemingly married to my wife’s step father even though he would be much younger (although in real life, this parallels my wife’s “disturbed” mother - who went after him when he was a younger teenager and when she was fairly old and not only did not get arrested, but two of her children are his - the things she has gotten away with in her lifetime are beyond what most people could imagine - although it is possible this dream relates to her present circumstances in some way, but I have not seen her in years, thankfully).

At one point I see him leaning over her as she is on her back on a mattress on the floor near the doorway to the kitchen (almost fully to the northwest corner, but with a bit of space at the implied foot of the mattress). It first seems that she has died and I feel a strange sadness. However, she is only in the stage of wanting/waiting to die. At one point, when I am near them, I tell both of them that they are not who they are supposed to be and that I do not know them - and almost become a bit more semi-lucid than I had been to that point, but not fully aware. I notice that she has strange marks all over her stomach and arms - seemingly stretch marks from rapid weight lost (at first). However, they actually look more like some sort of smaller and large number of reddish bird-beak-shaped scars (sideways bird-beak-like, yet sort of like compressed, symmetrically paired “W” shapes) that are slightly more fleshy or raised in the center, much like a livestock brand in which the skin has since become more loose. The wrinkled wounds seem to mean something else relating to her illness or advanced age but still seem to have something to do with weight-loss or the body “shrinking” somehow.

Curiously enough, they remind me of a dream of way back when I was a younger teenager - “The Butterfly People” - about a group of people - a family - who had butterfly-shaped welts all over their bodies. They lived in caves and seemed somewhat dangerous to other (“normal”) people and possibly somewhat cannibal-like. My dream had nothing to do with butterflies, really.

At a later point, she is sitting up on the end of the mattress closest to the kitchen doorway. I do not see the other male. At this point, she looks a little more like my sister again, but fairly thin. I am concerned but she seems resigned to her circumstances and seems to want no sympathy at all regarding the “wearing out” of her body and health (and actually seems angry at the potential of recovery or living longer). “I am waiting to go to Hell,” she states seriously, and confidently, with an angry tone relating to her body “expiring” and implying that she, as a conscious being, will still continue to exist (possibly forever) in such a place - but obviously does not seem keen on the idea - although it is not quite at all sure what “Hell” would be like (or maybe she is talking symbolically, unsure, but she does seem to think her existence will continue somehow - apparently ALL people go to Hell when they die as a “natural order” of things - still being trapped within the dynamics of their last physical illness - or maybe it is a connection to those commonly deemed “insane” Jack Chick Christian comics I had the misfortune to read years ago, which were weirder and more unrealistic than the horror comics of the day) - assuming she is even referring to one of the various Christian theories (none of which I remotely believe in). This is rather odd, as it is very unlike me to have Christian mythology in dreams in a more “serious” way (usually “devils” and such are associated with the comic book character “Hot Stuff” and little more, although medieval dragons have always been an “enemy”, but now only appear as cartoon-like rough sketches, usually with broken or incomplete lines). This is not a nightmarish scenario, just a bit unsettling and very vivid in terms of environmental focus and detail. However, not much drama happens after this and it actually does seem to carry and odd awareness of an old Jack Chick tract I read on the school bus as a boy - and wondered how human beings could actually believe in such things.

From here, though, I end up in a tulpa-based dream of primarily a happy mood, moving towards bliss and sensual ecstasy, in an unfamiliar area with several other younger people, mostly Japanese. It is a smaller building with an arced roof of an unknown purpose - almost like a very small aircraft hanger. I am aware that a dinosaur, a tyrannosaurus, is just outside and could easily put his head down and through the open end of the hall-like structure (and even quickly eat me), but does not. I am not concerned at all. In fact, I actually contemplate creating a drama by willing the dinosaur to cause trouble or to damage the building (even to chase me around a bit), but that thought does not fully materialize, so to speak. The big dinosaur just walks around outside and causes no trouble. I am not lucid, yet I still seem to have an amazing focus over elaborate thought-control and related detail at this point. I hold a version of my wife close and intimately and we speak of getting married soon as if we only met that week. It seems very harmonious and personal even though there are others standing around in the building. No one else seems concerned about the large dinosaur just outside the large entrance. It almost seems like a “left-over” from someone else’s dream that had not fully unfolded.

Morning of December 27, 2013. Friday.



This is one of those “body” dreams; that is, the primary focus of my dream being on the condition or state of the body. Such dreams usually have magnification of imagery and “closer than possible” perspectives and are often semi-lucid. In this one, I am mostly focused on my feet.

My feet have a sort of discomfort on each outer side, sort of like when wearing shoes that are a bit too tight, but I am barefoot in my dream. When I do any type of affirmation pulsing with the word “healing” or “healing powers” (as opposed to “healthy” or “healthy energies”) I have dreams of this nature (every single time thus far). This is likely because “healing” has a completely different association with other areas of the mind and memory than “healthy” (especially as “healing” implies an ongoing event whereas “healthy” implies a state of being). I have honestly recognized this for over twenty years, but I still use the word “healing” to discern variations and am still experimenting with direct to dream pulsing.

“Healing” seems to send the message that you are in a continuous state of change and always brings about unusual dreams relating to the body and again, usually with both magnification and “closer than possible” perspective of the particular area of the body. Normally, though, it brings about dreams of open sores that often close themselves (thus, always a dream-instigated opportunity to keep healing), hollow areas within the body and extremely detailed imagery of internal anatomy (even microscopic views - such as blood flowing, etc.) I have also noted (and no longer use much) the association with “flowing”. For some reason, the dream self’s mind can only link the word “flowing” with water or liquid (in one dream, it seemed like paint). Thus, when I used phrasing in pulsing sessions such as “healthy energies flowing”, I would always dream of water flooding a room, or similar (usually not in a negative or stressful sense, though, but rather purposeless, perhaps).

In this dream, I eventually check my feet more closely. I see that a couple layers of skin are peeling off around the outer sides of both feet. Inside each “cocoon” of thin skin is a small toe (at this point, I am still “logically” assuming they are the fifth toe on each foot - yet much closer to the instep middle-point than would be normal), my toenails breaking through first (without any actual pain, though). I am trying to work out the situation. Perhaps my shoes had been too tight for too long and somehow caused skin to grow over each small toe after a time (as well as each small toe being pushed down and against the outer instep over time). As the skin comes off, it feels a bit more comfortable. A little later I flex my feet and toes (the toe-line changing and now being mostly even across, unlike just before) and then notice that I have six toes on each foot (all appearing normal otherwise). It does not concern me all that much. I look at them curiously and a couple relatives look at my feet without comment. I guess growing extra toes like this is not all that unusual, especially in the dream state.

This was possibly partly influenced by “The Chrysalids” (known as “Re-birth” in the USA), my favorite novel of any genre. In the story, though, it is Sophie that has the six toes, not the main character. I had found the story remarkable in how closely I related to David Strorm, almost as if I was reading about myself and my life (at one level) directly (the only book that I ever perceived this level of such clear and “familiar” associations and “closeness” in identification with a fictional character).

Morning of December 26, 2013. Thursday.



In my dream, I am in an unfamiliar garage in Wisconsin, it seems, although my wife Zsuzsanna is with me. There is a tall, thin stack of smaller boxes of books that falls over without causing any damage. We seem to be moving a few things around. I notice a heavyset man staring at me from the opening to the garage (the opening apparently to the east). He walks into the garage and stares at me intently, looking into my eyes.

“Why are you an alien?” he says in a way almost implying cross-examination. He seems to have a special gift to see the “different wiring” within my physical nature and brain design - something people usually seem to sense but do not comment on, or maybe they recognize that I am only pretending to understand what people are saying to avoid confrontation.

“Because I am not you and am not like you,” I say calmly, but in a slightly patronizing way. I do not like him at all and do not look away from his intense and unduly patronizing gaze. He seems to be of the conspiracy-theorist “everything is doom or devils or aliens” mentality; the type who spends time considering all manner of fictional systems and completely unfeasible potential of the countless fraudulent “lunatic fringe” websites. (I recall a small plastic “device” from a New Age magazine years ago which I got just to see what it really was. It was supposedly designed to improve health by having some sort of “protective field” move out from the wearer’s body. When I took it apart, I saw that all it was was a small circuit-board in which the sole function was to make the small light flash on and off. Hilariously stupid.)

The chubby unknown male soon attacks me physically but I grab him and stretch him out somehow until all that is left of him is his belt. I go to the garage entrance and throw this belt out into the alley as two girls are walking by, heading north (I believe we are at the north-side of La Crosse). He somehow screams for help (as a belt, but changing form a bit, including a brief period as a rattlesnake) but they do not notice. Eventually, he is able to “regenerate” himself, but is more overweight than before and dressed in mismatched clothes, some of them women’s clothes - in about three layers. He is also wearing a periwig and starts yelling about aliens again, while shaking a golf club at me. I also notice, at this point, he is about a foot shorter than before.

I tell him sternly and very seriously, “the fact that people like you are allowed to run around promoting false systems and false ideologies and leading other people astray is proof enough that humans are not fit to occupy this planet”. (By that, I seem to be perhaps illogically inferring that both the con artists and the victims are “unfit”.) From here I wake.

Morning of December 25, 2013. Wednesday.



My dream (or dreams, as it seems to repeat at least once, possibly twice) has at least two sections that are nearly identical or possibly “resets”. I go into a large room from the north entrance, apparently in the early afternoon, that is somewhat like the buildings at the showgrounds near here. A large rhinoceros is lying on his right side and seems slightly injured. He is on a seemingly concrete circular platform about four inches up from the floor and about six or seven feet in diameter. I pet him and move my hand over his wounds and he seems to get healthier and healthier until he is able to stand up and move about on his legs a bit. I almost sense a sort of human-like gratitude from the animal. My dream repeats at least once from here, but with a longer gap of no dreams between, it seems. There are a few other people in the background (mostly female, likely veterinarians and park attendants) that seem to be happy about my presence and my apparent special abilities to help the rhinoceros. I have a good feeling and my dream is unusually clear in imagery and orientation considering I have not seen many rhinoceroses in real life, especially up close.

(There is ambiguity in one version of my dream; it is possible it is a pregnant female, though this is not at all certain.)

Morning of December 25, 2013. Wednesday.



In my dream, my family and I seem to be living in a composite house that is half of our last address in this town (Barolin Street) and half the address in Brisbane in Wavell Heights (Stadcor Street). The first part focuses on the last address’s house’s section, which is mostly the porch that faced east. There is a woman there (as well as my wife) but I do not know who she is; perhaps she is a relative of my wife’s (though that seems unlikely). When on the porch, she is talking about her concern for all the cats that will cease to exist that night. Apparently any cat that is outside at a certain time is captured by the local government and euthanized. She seems to be planning on how she can rescue and keep one cat of her own. It seems to be fairly late at night by that point. There is a lot of clarity and vividness at the point where I stand on the porch looking out into the semidarkness.

A little later, I am in a part of the house that is more like the one in Wavell Heights. We call our two cats in, and they run into the house, but seven more cats soon come into the house - cats that we have never seen before (recurring). They are all different breeds, including a calico. One of them is a very strange fictional breed that is somewhat like a miniature lion (but with tiger stripes) and also reminds me very slightly of a silkie chicken regarding extra hair that hangs back from its head and mid-body area. It is an odd sight. It is possible that this is the cat the unknown woman will pick (because of its unusual appearance and likelihood of being gotten rid of quicker because the government does not like diverse traits in anything of any kind), but it is not certain. I start to contemplate how it will not really be possible to keep all these cats (eight, if the woman leaves with one) and am not sure what will happen.

Morning of December 23, 2013. Monday.



I have decided to place this dream into the “I have no brain” category, along with a much older one I have already written on where I used a digital sampling keyboard to play a special affirmation - and when it worked and I went into an extremely vivid, lucid dream, I spent the entire dream trying to find the source of the real-life sound to turn it off so that I could continue with my dream… It takes a very “special” level of futility regarding such experiences. However, I do now use certain types of audio with self-spoken special affirmations (when I choose to - I still prefer trying to hold mental states without any aid or “tools” of any kind to get ever stronger in that department - tens of thousands of times more powerful than what appears to be mostly a nonsensical placebo effect with so-called i-dosing and binaural beats, which is basically fraud for the amazingly gullible) that produce extremely precise visual and physical patterns within hypnagogic states (what people fail to understand is that it is about specific word phrasing - not a particular sound, frequency, or “beat”, which is rather absurd as the brain does not work that way - if it did, most of humanity would be controlled by random birdsong and other sounds) - something which mostly no other person (relative to commercial products), that I know of, knows anything about (other than my wife and a few select friends from my past) - which can only be a good thing.

One of my last dreams (“Agates and holograms”) had an additional layer of composite precognition (in addition to my wife actually having looked at new holograms at the mall without my knowledge), as most do at one level or another - and is so common, it often goes unnoticed or “unremarkable” and thus not written about even in summary (although I am trying to break that lifelong habit) - as precognition and highly detailed prophetic consciousness has been a continuous day to day driving force in my life since just prior to birth. In this case, the additional precognitive element of that dream involved my brother actually posting a series of photographs on Facebook, on my own timeline (as in my dream), for the first time ever, even though we have both been on Facebook for years. One of the images was me at around age five playing with a husky (supposed wolf-hybrid, apparently) - and another, a bit older, sitting at a table with a large open stamp album. When the real-life event unfolded much as in my dream, the link did not even come to mind until later - which should be a hint as to how common and “normal” precognition is for me. It is much like breathing or food digestion in my opinion.

Anyway, on to this dream. I appear to be at a computer in some sort of chat room (which I have hardly ever been on in real life in my lifetime), but the overall look is similar to a group-type page as on Facebook and the messages from the sender (account-holder) appear as stylized windows with various fancy writing in as opposed to just straight lines of text - although the one responding (in this case, me) sees their own messages appear as mostly just lines of text. I appear to be engaged in conversation with a younger female tulpa (I do not actually see her at any point even on the screen) regarding potential healing sessions, musical ideas, gags about “normal” humans, mental development, and so on.

In a short time, I notice that a large thinner section of skin has separated from the back of my hand; fully, evenly, and perfectly. The back of my hand has a large and perfectly circular wound that looks much like watermelon (without the seeds). However, it does not hurt much. The tulpa tells me that if I hold the skin that came off over the wound that my hand will go back to normal in a short time. This does not seem to work, though. I have a thin white square piece of cloth by which the circular section of skin sticks to the cloth and will not stay attached to where it was separated from. I am not quite sure how she knows about my problem and do not remember actually typing such a message, and what comes next is rather futile. (In real life, only after waking, not prior to sleep, I did notice how a very small circular wound on the left side on my right pinkie was causing that small area to be a bit sore).

A seemingly second message (after the coherent one regarding what to do about the wound - which may have come about as a result of weeding) appears onscreen that is mostly made up of “baby words” - that is - the kinds of nonsensical phrases that an adult says to a baby to “entertain” them or get their attention. I make out some of the pattern, which appears in a highly stylized window with a floral theme, as something like “coo coo fizzle fitz coo coo gooey fitz oh my goo goo foo foo fitz fizzle” or very similar. I am not quite sure what to make of this. I try to type a response, but all that comes out is random letters, apparently because my hand is wounded.

I send about half the messages I type, but give up on half because there are too many random letters interspersed with the intended words. Most sentences, I attempt to type correctly several times over. After about ten minutes of not being able to focus enough to get any words correct, I receive the message, “Are you still there? I am waiting. "I simply cannot type because of my "injured” hand, it seems.

So, using the ever futile “dream logic”, I try to type “I cannot type because the sore on my hand prevents me from typing”. That makes no sense, does it? I end up giving up because I cannot even get the first few words to come out correctly.

I then spend the next ten minutes or so trying to type “I cannot type”…(oh brother)…assuming the “conversation” will still continue in a coherent or productive, possibly enriching manner. There are a few other messages onscreen that relate to wondering if I am still there or needing anything. The tulpa seems extraordinarily patient (long after most people would have went on to do something else), but then, they have to be, to serve the dreamer unconditionally.

Finally, I decide that attempting to type and send “my hand” (hoping that somehow that message will be fully understood) might be doable. I type something close to “mjyjo hkajndjp” and send it, growing weary of the events after a seeming half-hour, at least.

As a result, the tulpa finally starts solely typing equally indiscernible gibberish and sends a small banner-like horizontally-scrolling, somewhat sketchy cartoon of the old-style Kewpie dolls having some sort of co-operative can-can dance across the screen amidst randomly falling flower and snowflake patterns.

The failure, overall, seems more related to my distorted in-dream hand-eye coordination rather than having a hurt hand. However, it is also as if certain keys change their letter values at times as soon as I type them.

Morning of December 22, 2013. Sunday.



This dream was not that short, but much of it was based on attention regarding perception and focus of just a few ideas and images. In my dream, my brother sends me a particular JPEG photo on Facebook (which he had not done in real life before - he never posted images on my Facebook page). I am at the computer and when I look at the image, it is very clear. The image is mostly of a Teddy bear sitting on a smaller stack of books in the center of a bed. Also in the room are lots of other details. For a time, I seem to be doing photo projection (within my dream itself) for some reason.

After a short time, I notice the image seems to change as if it is doing a slow 180 degree pan (central to the Teddy bear position) on one side (as I move my head side to side very slightly) and then the other so that I can see what had been behind the Teddy bear and see other things at different angles. This happens in a very subtle way in some photo projection experiences (depending on the image) in real life, but in this case, in my dream, it is quite intriguing and amazingly vivid (though I am not lucid). It is as if all the image-based data of a full 360 degree rotation is somehow encoded within the one otherwise flat image (seemingly oriented within the center which - again - is represented by the Teddy bear in this case - for example, as if the Teddy bear is the hub and everything around it is the 360 degree “wheel” which pans around 180 degrees to each side depending on how I move my head - however, I still do not see up and down in a similar way in this case relative to detail change).

I decide that my brother sent me a special kind of hologram, perhaps without knowing that himself - or maybe it is a new technology relating to holographic photography (that he is absentmindedly “showing off”, or not knowing that I do not have all the equipment associated with its full usage) of a type that goes beyond the much older View Master types (and the very old technology relating to 3-D back in the 1940s and such being far superior to what they make these days, some of which is actually fake or rendered artificially). In my dream, I am contemplating how it works, thinking somewhat about the small plastic cards with images that appear to move through a stage of several frames when you change the angle by moving it slightly, but I think that would require a special monitor with several thin and angled layers.

I am thinking about talking to my brother in an enthusiastic state of cheerful surprise. There are other photos; one, I think, of his cat on the floor of his kitchen and at least one outside scene.

A little later, I seem to be in the parking lot with some of my belongings near a mall in Wisconsin that had been north of all the places I lived in the region (near Shopko, I think - based in Ashwaubenon, Wisconsin, near Green Bay). A younger male approaches me from the southeast. I seem to be near a table (or something set up with a piece of plywood on top); perhaps it is part of a larger flea market oriented east to west though I do not see many people around. I am sitting down at that point on a small chair. The man seems friendly, but I still feel a slight suspicion as if I feel he may attempt to rob me at one point, but that thought is not quite the dominating one. The man seems to be low on money and wants to know if I could buy some agates from him. I am not quite sure how much money I have, but I tell him that I already have a “guitar full of agates” (which is based on a much older real-life memory where I kept a large number of agates in an old guitar of my father’s, but this was over twenty years ago). I even describe to him what each one looked like as I put it inside the body of the guitar. I tell him about the ones that look a bit like candy corn, the red and white striped ones, and ones that look a bit like they have Paisley designs on them. He does not seem to be threatening at all (even though I hold the mild expectation of such) and he asks another man approaching from the north who is apparently there to look at something else at the implied flea market.

Eventually, I start talking to the man selling agates about the new holographic technology and how you can actually “step into” the images as if they were much like holodecks on the newer (“Next-Generation”-based) “Star Trek” shows (although earlier I had only seen “inside” the photos at a different size perspective). He listens, being only mildly interested, but does not comment. He just wants to sell all his agates to get enough for a small meal, I think. He is thin and passive. I do not think he will rob anyone “yet”.

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This turned out to also be precognitive relative to what my wife had been looking at, at the mall (including newer holographic images she was thinking of buying - one of a tiger), without any knowledge of such on my part or me sharing my dream beforehand. Funny, but happens every day to some extent. The other way it was precognitive involved pretty close detail to my brother Dennis (same brother as in my dream) posting images on Facebook in my timeline which he had never done before and no prior clue he would do so. I thought I had updated this particular entry in this section, but had not - partly because it happens so often. It had the usual “something bigger than life at work” feeling.

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Morning of December 22, 2013. Sunday.



This entry will include two dreams that I first held back from posting on one of the journal sites, as each time, someone else had posted something with the same words in the title just seconds before. One was the seven-pointed star (LINK) and the other was the white robot (LINK). It also almost happened with two others, one relating to red lasers and the other, blue fireworks. (The “red lasers” one, I actually did not even fully reveal in the entry itself, just a “red trident” on stage for the most part - but rotating red spotlights and red lasers had also been more involved.)

The first dream was slightly stressful, but not exactly fearful, just a bit of an uneasy feeling about human ignorance and possible “unnatural alterations” in life.

This is actually based on a real-life event, which also made me quite puzzled and slightly uneasy, which is duplicated in my dream to a similar scene. In my dream as well, I am looking at photographs of mostly forests and natural environments. My mental focus may actually be wrong in this case regarding past memories, as it may be a fluke. Over time, I notice seven-pointed stars as lens flares rather than the expected six-pointed ones. This seems to indicate something “wrong” - something very “unnatural” (although there are flowers that can have seven petals including anemone nemorosa). (It is probably similar to how you would react if you thought you saw a heptagon-based honeycomb). I look again more closely, and do indeed see seven-pointed stars as lights/flares. I sit there in somewhat of a daze, but not much happens. I am contemplating if it is the result of some new form of digital photography that alters the electromagnetic spectrum.

Also, I notice that some of the light patches are also heptagons, which makes me a bit more uneasy. I am certain that only hexagonal light patches exist in the natural world and that these heptagon “light cells” had been artificially made with dire consequences to come, perhaps even human extinction. I get a slight awareness that bees may try to make heptagonal hives and fail since they cannot tessellate and honey will have to be produced in solely a synthetic way from then on. (My own eyesight only makes six-pointed light cells directly.)

Apparently, camera lens flares can have any number of points (I mostly only remember seeing six or eight, though.) There are supposedly five-pointed ones as well as a much larger number (assuming the photographic images I have seen are unaltered). Most of the more “dominant” ones, I have only seen with six, though, as well as only see hexagonal light cells (which are often too rounded to imply a polygon, though) before in photos and only recently (in real life) seeing the heptagonal ones. Apparently there are even services that make lens flares for you made to order. This was possibly influenced by the J. J. “lens flare“ Abrams comments and memes lately. I stopped watching the newer “Revolution” series (new in my region, anyway) as it was unwatchable for me (and I am a science-fiction fan) and has two of the more annoying characters from “Lost” as well. It will probably turn out to be “magic” over science again that they claimed “Lost” would never be, but was (although I really liked “Lost” and still do, for being so random and meandering - especially with all the fun with running gags and puzzlement, both real and feigned, on the IMDb forums).

In the white robot dream (another link to J. J. Abrams? - in regards to “bad robot”?), a woman is watching a white robot “standing” in a canoe that is going down the river. She is throwing things at it, including various coins. The white robot has no legs but is more like a “giant bank” (like a piggy bank) at one point - its head and body both somewhat upright trapezoidal, about four-feet tall at the most. However, the woman fails to hit it or get any money in. At the same time, she seems to be getting angrier and also throws rocks and sticks (but misses). The robot seems to beep and mock her with slight turns of its head.

After a time, it seems the robot (or “runaway bank”) is “watching” her in an implied “sarcastic” way and mocking her more. However, the canoe it is in goes over a waterfall and the event completely wrecks the robot, which seems a bit amusing - all that effort to evade and mock the woman (the owner?) yet it is destroyed anyway.

Morning of December 22, 2013. Sunday.



This dream was fairly short. The sun is producing small but powerful CMEs (coronal mass ejection) that come out more like very fast-traveling small hot stones with special properties (somewhat as if from a volcano). There is an unknown dream character that reminds me vaguely of Donald Sutherland.

Some of the “stones” are yellow, some orange or red. They are mostly about the size of a computer mouse. The “Donald” character appears to be nervous about the sun’s unpredictable “behavior”. I cannot recall too many dreams all in all (especially over the last twenty years) where I had real fear (sometimes it is feigned or understood to be previously instigated by my own will) and even in this dream, I see myself at one point as cartoon-like when running from supposed danger.

The stones sometimes crash through the ceiling, melting building structures in their path, apparently; even metal at times.

They seem to be able to project a sort of lightning-like “web” that moves through the air rapidly, putting a person in a “hot cocoon” or cocoon-like construct. I do not think the victims survive. Perhaps the “stones” are a shape-shifting “solar spider” slightly similar to that so-called (fictional of course) “found footage” movie “Apollo 18”.

The floating plasma “web” moves through the air, but I do not think it has special sensing abilities, as they can be dodged fairly easily and cool down fairly quickly unless they are somehow “activated” into the “active” cocoon stage. I do not see the “stones” move much, either. Interesting science-fiction concept, though, I suppose.

There was also a short dream that almost led into sleep paralysis. I very much enjoy sleep paralysis even though many people claim it is usually unpleasant for them. My sleep paralysis stages themselves are almost always ecstatic with a strong sense of healing energy moving through my body, almost like a buzzing, pleasant “electricity”, and an intense, focused awareness which I really like, although I am often aware of another “presence” but not a threatening one, often somewhat “angelic”.

This short scene though, seemed to involve three men running around randomly, each with a gun; a cowboy (perhaps a marshal or sheriff) from the 1800s, a member of (I think) the Italian mafia, and a random businessman trying to protect himself from the other two. They are running in “circles” around a square area that is actually the outer hallway of a building that goes all the way around the central area that may only be one room (or possibly a larger work area). Not much happens. It reminds me vaguely of a scene from “Tickle Me” (the Elvis movie) where the man in the horror-movie mask runs down the hall and turns sharply, throwing his hand up in an artificial-looking contrived manner just before going around the corner.

Morning of December 20, 2013. Friday.



Regarding my old home in Cubitis, there is an additional western wall identical to the first, with the three tall jalousie windows, which is duplicated a few feet to the the west, with no floor (just the open grassy/ground area), and like a sort of additional outdoor hallway - just wide enough for one person of average size - between the two walls with no door to the south at least, leaving an open area where you can just walk into the space. It seems possible that, to the north, it bends around like an L-shape with another front entrance, but that is not fully clear.

There is one point where it also seems like a children’s railroad (as in a park) goes from north to south, as the tracks are there, and one train shows up without drama. It seems to have some mixed aspects of our last home in Australia as well, as there is a western fence, west from the duplicated wall. The “engineer” (older white-haired man) goes through the outer fictional “hallway” about halfway, as if he is lost, then walks back to continue working with the “park train”.

My wife Zsuzsanna and I are sleeping near the western windows, our heads to the north. Soon, there is a sense of weight coming down from above me. I am aware that a younger male has somehow come through the window and almost onto us as we wake from the intrusion. Of course this makes no sense, as you cannot go through jalousie windows like that, but whatever - anything can occur in a dream. It is possible they are suddenly large single pane windows in this particular instance, perhaps sliding windows. I get the impression he is in a marathon and has somehow either taken a wrong turn or is deliberately taking a short cut through our house to get to the finish line more quickly.

Fictionally, to the east, not that far from our dream home, is a college (males only), I think, or maybe a high school for only the two highest grades (eleventh and twelfth) or maybe a combination. Apparently there is a large focus on sports and especially Olympic racing and marathon training and practice. Somehow, I grab the person out of being annoyed at the intrusion (he may be inclined to steal something as well, I think), mostly seeming to retrieve a five-pointed star which I crush in my hand - not likely a badge (although it looks like one) but some sort of award regarding his running ability or placement status. Oddly, this seems to make the runner vanish completely and I then am somewhat concerned about having “killed” someone, even though I get a vague impression that a “broken” version of him runs to the south near the school before finally collapsing and dying and vanishing with no other witnesses present.

Later, there is a line of young males, mostly all in white shorts and tank tops with a few stripes and number details, from west to east, as if part of some sort of award ceremony. The male I had “killed” had been replaced by another person, whereas, a changeling had replaced the other person that had taken the other missing person’s place. It is rather confusing. One of the male runner-ups looks at the lead runner (who is not who he should be) with a bit of awe and confusion. The person’s name is called and even his race (relating to black or white) is wrong, yet no one is apparently supposed to notice the switches regarding the two people. Of course, even if the public, with their amazingly short memory, is unaware of who is who, I am fairly certain close friends and especially parents would know. It does not make much sense. It is as if someone is killed or missing (even temporarily I guess), and it does not mean anything; they are simply replaced by a shuffling around of other people (and the additional changeling). Logically, just the changeling of a similar appearance replacing the missing person should have been enough instead of this shuffle where there are then two potential problems to have to later explain.

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