Blue_Opossum

Night of October 18, 2013. Friday.



In my dream, an unknown dark-haired female of about thirty or younger is working as a secretary for a business man, apparently working on at least three pages from his (handwritten in blue ink) dream journal at an outdoor cafe in Brisbane (the separate pages of which are on a chair to her left) in copying them onto the computer after writing them out herself prior to that (not sure why she has to write them out by hand again - maybe his writing is a bit hard read, thus difficult to directly work from). The dreams appear to be shorter or concisely summarized, some made up of about three smaller paragraphs of only about four or five sentences.

After a time (I think while working on the third dream journal page), she suddenly seems gripped by some sort of incredible power that completely takes over her body and she sinks back in the chair and writes perfectly and evenly on a mostly blank page while her eyes seem rolled up into her forehead (not due to an entity - but the universe itself). She writes a formula over the page, which takes up about four and a half lines of larger writing. I do not remember it, but it seemed fairly viable at first, though eventually ridiculously layered or complex. Part of it is relating to something like C5 times C6 plus C5 times C6, seen as ((C5 * C6) + (C5 * C6)), so there are also embedded sections using sets of double parentheses. Near the middle of the page, it appears some of the formula is logarithmic, somehow caused by writing over vague impressions of numbers which were already on the paper - possibly related to the business address in a series of pale sample letterheads or watermarks. It looks as if it is something like C base 5 multiplied by C base 6 multiplied by C base 7 and so on (a very odd concept I have never seen in this way), also with some sort of nth (!) factorial to show permutations (quite possibly relating to all the other dimensions or “hidden facets” of the universe or of time/eternity). However, it also seems like another section uses a similar or the same (business watermark?) pattern but in exponential progression (relative to the same watermark being used as a superscript rather than a subscript), for example C to the fifth times C to the sixth times C to the seventh, etc.

However, I am not sure, for a time, if such as C5 (or C6 using the same line of reasoning) would mean variable C times 5 or instead, some sort of computer code formula with C5 representing a BASIC (string) variable of one value (which would not have to be a multiple of five). However, overall, over time, it looks like a plain algebraic construct - so it must mean a standard operation of C times 5, C times 6, etc.

In my dream, the whole thing came out very clearly and slowly so that I was aware - exactly - of what it all was as she was writing it, but now I have mostly forgotten it, which is kind of annoying really, because I think some of the watermark-based nuances might have been a false “replay” of her actual prior writing. In my dream, she comes to with an unusual look of uncertainty on her face.

Morning of October 17, 2013. Thursday.



This was a new, rather sparse and non-eventful dream with little emotion. It seems to be on a distant planet which had recently changed governments, somewhat like part of a “hand-me-down” tradition. There is one scene in a large room where I watch others carving small statues that are all the same basic design. The design is much like the one in the image - of a male in a kowtow position on a small, thin base.

Each member of the group (mostly males of a few different age ranges) is working only on their own small statue (most of them are finished), each person in a sitting position on the floor, being part of a precise grouping of about five rows and columns in the larger room, which has no furniture. There does seem to be something resembling a business office setup on the opposite side of the room.

One person, instead of making the kowtow statue, has instead made what appears to be the Chacmool. Another person is scolding him saying that he has made it wrongly and needs to fix it (without starting over). The person is saying that the statue’s head must be down (and implying the eyes are mostly looking down) so that he “doesn’t see the bus coming” (?) - but the whole statue is “wrong-side up”, so it will probably be very difficult to “fix”.

Later on, it still is not right, and the man is lectured again. It looks as if he may never get it right and the final group project will have one major flaw - unique to the particular government? It is wrong to show one’s eyes directly in public, it is explained. The man does not seem all that upset or annoyed by having done the job incorrectly.

Later on, there is other art and sculpture being done. The floor has a thin surface in one part, or some sort of very thin slate “veneer”, almost paper-thin. One unknown female watches me closely, but I believe my mother is also there on the opposite side of the area. I only have a pencil but somehow manage to do a light rubbing of the entire area of the “floor” in a short time (which “reacts” somewhat like tracing paper to the movements of the pencil - which I hold at about thirty degrees as I do the rubbing), and as I am doing this, I say “I can automatically bring out an image in this way” (or saying something very similar).

When I am finished, it is an actual simple drawing or sketch of a woman facing the viewer, the face being the most defined. The person that had been watching is unsure what to believe even though she had been there the whole time (even asking me if I had done it with the pencil, etc.), as if she is, in a subtle way, questioning what had just happened regarding my “magical” ability. She seems a bit puzzled, unresolved, not in complete denial (but “ungrounded”), just unsure of the experience in seeing something unexplained unfold, somewhat of the same reaction I have seen hundreds of times in real life with other things, such as real-time and more detailed precognition validation. It is, in fact, seemingly one of the more outstanding traits of “normal” humans, bordering on the threshold of the more extreme short-term amnesia I have also seen quite often.

Links:

Chacmool

Kowtow

Morning of October 14, 2013. Monday.



I am in a “Star Trek” (next generation era) scenario, on a colonized planet in a distant star system that produces products and materials for day to day living, it seems. There is a shorter highly overweight woman who is in charge of everything, but not in an aggressive way at all; in fact, quite matter-of-fact, friendly to some extent at times, and assertive (but who also cares nothing about Starfleet regulations or continuous infringements of human life). The setting seems to be some sort of odd composite of a sister’s house in Wisconsin and the middle school I went to (DMS) in Florida as well as at least two other generic areas from outside a real-life courthouse and factory I worked at in real life. People are in rows of more open (more shallow than many I have seen in real life) cubicles and alcoves. They are working on futuristic computers as well as what seems to be smaller products and such.

I am there to make a few arrests regarding some sort of withholding of resources and credits (on a regular basis) from particular people in their work with the “salami technique”. Credit amounts and certain resources have been stolen from certain random people over a longer time period so that, if that had not happened, the victims would quite possibly be in very large, exquisite homes or in a much higher position in Starfleet. It does not seem like that much of an issue with the people on the planet, though, which gets me more and more annoyed.

“It’s a human rights violation,” I explain (as well as it being an obvious illegal act in general), but these people in the “Star Trek universe” do not seem at all concerned with human rights as if the term means nothing. They (even the ones being victimized) smile about it all in a near-“so what”, near-paradisaical mentality. I know there must be some sort of law in the “Star Trek Universe” (in my dream) but it seems futile to try to pursue investigation, as people continue what they are doing even though some things must stop here and there to see certain connections and digital documents. They create the impression of slaves marching happily over a cliff and even smiling as they fall. This may, in a subtle way, be something to do with the ridiculous level of overly passive diplomacy with potentially deadly aliens as seen on some “Star Trek” episodes, something I had never given much conscious thought to, as it is only a fantasy, but I have still been a fan most of my life.

If I do not pursue my work, the conspiracy will continue indefinitely, although the victims (as well as all the planet’s people in authority) do not even seem to care.

I place one person under arrest and he stands to the side cheerfully and arrange to arrest a few others. The female manager/supervisor of this factory (the overweight woman) tells people to just continue what they are doing. Finally, I am so annoyed that I tell the woman that she is under arrest as well as the conspirators, but she does not seem concerned. I tell her that she will be incarcerated at the nearest Starbase brig for at least two weeks. I go outside and wait for my team, including members from other space shuttles and ships, all of them seemingly in their twenties. Six of them materialize in front of my eyes (as on the actual “Star Trek” show), followed by a few more with weapons drawn.

Three of them go into the main area of the factory where the boss is still standing. One of them speaks in a loud, authoritative voice but it drops off in hesitation, “We are taking you into custody under Starfleet authority and taking you to…ummm…” (forgetting the name of the location - then seeming to wait for someone to remind him) and then everyone starts laughing as if it is all a joke (or like an actor forgetting his lines). In the back of my mind, being semi-lucid, I have this feeling that it is all pretend, anyway, but am still annoyed. It is like everyone has no focus or comprehension of matters at hand.

With my weapon, I vaporize many people in the area (the non-complying supervisor first, followed by all of my own absent-minded and useless “fresh out of Starfleet Academy” team members). This is another entry into the more recent recurring “shoot everything that annoys me” dream theme.

I beam to my Danube-class runabout and it has a weapon of virtually unlimited power, which I do not really question the nature of. I use it to disintegrate the entire factory, followed by the entire region, with only minor thoughts of the victims of the original conspiracy all dying this way (a bit ironic, I suppose). I fly out a bit farther and then wipe out the entire planet into a large dust cloud, with only a few grains of dirt left floating about in space. I am not totally sure what I will be doing next, but will probably be reporting back to Starfleet for a failed mission…

Night of October 13, 2013. Sunday.



Within the large transparent and safe sphere (about the size of a city block), I attempt to create and “program” a suitable tulpa for a change - and perhaps other features later. First, I allow the grains of feldspar and dark basalt to flow in through the “equator of small holes” that go all around the sphere until it is halfway up near said “equator”. The sound of grains moving and gathering is peaceful, nearly as much as rain, as I rise to the center of this environment as the “solid” ground, as it manifests, lifts me up. Oxygen flows in as if the sphere were made of a smooth, strong, translucent skin. First, I begin to manifest from the tulpa template, focusing on the knuckle of the middle finger, and its glowing blue skin, of the left hand. Shift. I am able to hold it for almost nine seconds. The fingertips of light shrink back very slightly on the second run, but that is only based on my eye movements, which I should control better. My right hand to “her” left hand, a slight pulling sensation on the back of my head. Ten seconds.

My focus is “interrupted” by vague impressions of lines of text over everything, a modern inconvenience, with a subtle impression of a brick wall that fades but remains as “background noise”. The soft, larger wrinkles and folds on the knuckles remind me of lips, and after this, the eyes of lizards, perhaps miniature iguanas.

Now how about toes? A leg and feet and toes - becoming a sapling with five expanding roots. Try again. I get a vague impression of two hands forming “okay” with the fingers, yet also appearing to be doing something else, perhaps holding a grain or something very small between the tips of the thumbs and forefingers.

Pure white, wool-like hair, “burning”/flowing as if it is cool fire, yet radiating soft blue light, like filaments of the thinnest, most malleable “crystal”. Time to shift and make the face for a time, but the eyes keep closing, which is very common for new ones. Come on, look at me.

Dimensionality of the tulpa hologram reverses, as if my depth-perception is of the inside of a mask rather than the outside of a face, somewhat of an unusual effect (and fairly common depending on focus and shifts) - as if I am “inside” the tulpa template itself. Try again. No, this one refuses to keep her eyes open. And even so, they become entirely black if left open for too long. This is not something “demonic” (as falsely claimed by many others) to be wary of (in fact, almost the opposite - innocent over-the-top expectation - much like an individual discovering a new talent and wanting to “use it all up” upon each moment) - it is simply the pupil of a “new one” going “overboard” and wanting to see everything too soon, tulpa-eye-dilation, until the entire eye is as such (and all shiny and black). Vibrations of near consciousness. Atoms have no higher consciousness in such a state, anyway. Why worry unless you are afraid of yourself?

I get a vague yet vivid sound pulse of a man of about thirty or younger saying “diablo” (“devil” in Spanish). As it is impossible to fully block the existence of wayward dreaming minds from the lower supraconsciousness, I ignore it - and do not acknowledge it at all - I was way past that sort of thing over twenty years ago. I had spoken Spanish for about two hours today (but not saying or thinking of that word at all), and this probably linked me slightly to the outer field of the Spanish supraconsciousness. The same effect happens when a guitar string vibrates at a certain frequency - one within a certain range of it will resonant slightly with it (and the lower the frequency, the more the expanding and “interfering” vibrations) - thus the same with human minds and perception at certain levels, which is a loose form of subtle, non-focused telepathy that happens all the time but goes unnoticed by most.

I fold my hands around the back of the tulpa’s head. The sphere is filling up (not fully, just as an environmental feature) with small, dried leaves. I do not mind, the permission was there somewhere in the back of my mind. I am reaching the point where the eyes become like mirrors to reflect my own visage for a time, in brief periods.

I pick up some new features in the environment, which are thinner, lighter sticks, and they remind me somewhat of pieces of an exoskeleton of a giant insect’s leg, not in any alarming sense, but in a wondrous way. I then get an impression of ash and snow - mixed together, almost to a point where the mix becomes indistinguishable - as either being snow or ash, this being almost as a property of the curling, dried leaves it settles upon. I enjoy the snow-ash-dried-leaf crumbs flowing around me like a rejuvenating force…

Morning of October 11, 2013. Friday.



This was a rather short lucid dream and had only one main concept - controlling the direction of a tornado.

The environment seems to be where we live now in terms of the house, but it is mostly only the window area at the head of the bed. I look outside and notice a large tornado that is perhaps only one city block away and moving towards us.

The street is much wider, more like a country road, and the area is far more sparse in terms of buildings and industry. I tell my wife that there is a tornado coming. Then I look about outside through the window again and am certain that the whole area is quite wrong and say “…but that’s alright - this is a dream”.

It seems extraordinarily real, but due to the scenery not being correct at all, I just sit there and watch the tornado moving about. After a short time, I try to will it to move in different directions and there is a slight change it its course over time.

As it gets closer and closer, I notice that only a few buildings have actually been damaged. I will it to come directly at our house to see what energies I will receive from the act. It is fairly large by that point and comes right up to the window, but nothing dramatic happens; no movement or change of consciousness, and I cannot see anything (including the road). I then move it back so that I can actually see it better. It slowly moves across the road and wipes out a large barn, with a hay wagon being lifted high in the air and destroyed, hay and wood splinters flying everywhere - well, good - at least it is “working” and being a tornado. I again really try to make it sweep “into” the house just to feel or experience what could happen. It comes up to the window and nothing happens.

Soon, the entire perception of the location/environment changes and the tornado seems much smaller - as if I am looking at it from the perspective of a giant, but a large black ant that reminds me somewhat of the ridiculous-looking “Zanti Misfits” aliens comes out of the miniature tornado and I feel rather annoyed and a little disgusted.

A little later, in real life, my wife tells me that a large trail of larger black ants has gotten into the bathroom near the bathtub (for the first time in a long time) through a small hole. How funny… Just out of curiosity, I googled “ant tornado” and actually got matches, including a video (and I am 100% certain that I had never heard or seen anything like it before).

Morning of October 9, 2013. Wednesday.



My last dream was rather annoying concerning overall content. It involves a fictional development of the “Planet of the Apes” franchise. There are differences in my dream relative to how the plot and theme of the real series developed.

In my dream, all of the apes are very friendly toward humans and have supposed inferiority, as well as being far more realistically ape-like than in the movies, including how they sit and behave in general, but some of them seem to be able to walk a bit more upright. It is quite different in that the apes are mostly the only creatures that ever go into what were once human cities. There are no cats or dogs (as in the real-life series). Most people live in houses a fair distance from the older cities (but which still have supplies for the human population) and have the apes deliver everything to them.

A main difference is that many products are now robotic, even bottles of shampoo, with the ability to communicate with some sort of software and electronics - to inform people of a particular time or status. For example, a bottle of shampoo may walk into the living room and inform the person (relating to a preset schedule) of the nearing time when their hair is due to be washed. An oven may report on a loose wire or other problem and then walk to the city for repairs by other robots. A toy may be badly broken (exposing a sharp edge, for example) and walk itself to an isolated area to be eventually recycled, leaving a small printout from (name of toy) saying “goodbye” when the child is sleeping.

One location in my dream seems to be very loosely based on the rabbit shed in Florida (which later became the setup for a chicken farm). The larger area is otherwise much different, with the area beyond to the west being the outskirts of the city filled with apes, primarily chimpanzees and gorillas. The region is seriously filthy, with ape excrement all over the streets and sidewalks, and there is an animal-like smell everywhere, but it is not overwhelming, just unpleasant.

Near the exit of the “rabbit shed” on a larger board across a foundation column (looking much like our shed in real life at one point), just before a larger view of the city is accessible, sit a couple of larger chimpanzees. One is a young female. I do not think the apes have the power of speech (as in the movies) but “speak” using the same technology as the robotic commercial products. The chimpanzee girl moves a bit closer to me, “saying” how she had learned to kiss like Miley Cyrus from another human (as well as associations with a video) saying the name of the human whose name I can not recall, the thought of which doubly disgusts me in my dream (not finding Miley Cyrus attractive - and only “suddenly” learning who she was in the past week or two with a few horrid photos - as well as wondering why a sane human being would be intimate with a chimpanzee in any way in the first place). I push away the female chimpanzee (and at one point, notice overdone ugly lipstick and partial tongue “bubbling” out getting an impression of an overflowing bowl of rice bubbles - but more maggot-like), but still pet it in a manner to keep it at a distance. The other chimpanzee, her much older father, seems blissfully ignorant of the weird behavior of his daughter and just sits and grins absentmindedly, scratching his armpit and brushing his forehead with the back of his other hand. Eventually the two hug each other as family members and I pat the “old man” chimpanzee, feeling quite sorry for it, moving my hand over his rather large, round, and mostly bald head. I decide not to go into the city because of the smell of apes and ape excrement everywhere and get a vague impression of popular mainstream human culture at the same time, a sort of unusual realization, which is even more off-putting than the ape presence.

Later, some people (a couple looking like nurses) are pulling about a dozen or more very young chimpanzees in a large gated wooden wagon through a large building. There is a violent fight between two young males which seems “like the movie” in an “oh that’s right” association, but in reality, it is not like the movie at all. Young Caesar and Cornelius are fighting, but in the actual movies, they are played by the same actor (Roddy McDowell). This is supposedly the first time apes have been anything other than very docile.

There is also a conspiracy going on. In a ridiculous outcome near the end of my dream, a nurse is electronically “talking” to various products, mainly three; a bottle of shampoo, a lipstick cylinder, and a can of shaving cream for women. Supposedly, there is some sort of “Cyrus virus” in the robotic software that causes the products to malfunction and walk about to endanger the householder and even cause damage to various parts of the house and infect other products, even causing certain foods to become poisonous or filled with rapidly-reproducing bacteria. The nurse puts the scanner over all three products to check - the scenario being quite absurd. She scans the shaving cream and the can says, “I am doing fine and how are you?” She scans this lipstick, which gives the same answer. She then scans the shampoo, which has a more “unusual” voice (relative to what is expected) as if it is trying to mimic that correct response, but sounding more human somehow.

“This is the one”, says the robotics technician serving additionally as a nurse, “we need to recall all modules and reboot the system”. The shampoo bottle sprouts spines and leaks bubbling “venom” and starts wiggling after going “limp”. There is an electronic crackling sound from the plastic bottle, with someone saying “Hello? Hello? Testing one two three,” as if testing a microphone connection.

Morning of October 6, 2013. Sunday.

Dream #: 17,093-01. Reading time (optimized): 3 min. Readability score: 67.



American actor Russell Johnson appears about halfway into my dream as in his role as Professor Roy Hinkley on the American sitcom “Gilligan’s Island.” However, his essence seems closer to home as a local teacher or professor. I am not surprised by his presence.

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My dream takes place mostly in the living room of the Cubitis house (where I have not lived since 1978). My wife Zsuzsanna is in the first part of my dream in my old bedroom in the semidarkness (though she has never been to America). In the living room is a gathering of about ten cane toads. One of them, facing towards the south and underneath a larger metallic table (one my family owned in real life), seems to be aggressive to one of the others. The “mean” toad’s coloring is different, with a darker head than body. Another cane toad is facing him. The one with the darker head is slightly bigger. A fluid is spraying upward in a light but steady narrow stream and arcing down upon the other cane toad. It is a vivid image which I watch for at least a minute or two. The other toad does not seem to retaliate in any way.

Later, the professor is in the house, casually entering on his own via the front door, wanting to study the cane toads. I tell him about the seeming victimization of the toad. I go over to see that all that remains of it is a rectangular purse-like shell of tough skin with no head or legs, with top and bottom sections of the outer layer only. There is a vague association of a toad-skin coin purse, though also vaguely reminiscent of warped plastic-coated playing cards. There is also fluid coming out of the two pieces. Professor Hinkley studies them but I warn him about the toxic fluid, and he develops a minor burn on his hand from some fluid that leaks out. He seems very cheerful and shows interest in the events regarding the cane toads. He shows no sign of concern.

Later, Professor Hinkley and I notice that the other toad is near the front door and is starting to spray upward at us. I have to float, hover, and rise in the air until I am near the ceiling and out of its range. Professor Hinkley walks to different areas of the room and does not attempt to float. The cane toad, with its “fountain of venom” mouth, cannot reach me, but I am still annoyed at having to hover in the air and maneuver near the ceiling, though without much of a focus on physicality regarding weight or gravity, though the feeling is otherwise very vivid and realistic. My dream eventually fades at this point.

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I revised this entry on Tuesday, 16 October 2018, using my new readability software. I have added “telepathic dream” due to it being the probable cause behind the event relating to Russell Johnson’s death from kidney failure on January 14, 2014. There were too many clues in my dream for it to be coincidental despite (or perhaps because of) the mundane correlations. I had not heard anything about him or his health, though he would likely have been at least subliminally aware of it. The other threads that seemed precognitive may be a result of extrasensory awareness.

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There may be a subliminal association of “Professor Hinkley” with “Hinkler Central,” the nearby shopping mall. Recently, Zsuzsanna waited two hours to get the last wildlife card to complete the collection for our children, though another member of the public that had just entered the building went up and got the card immediately as it was suddenly available. (They requested an additional one, but there were none.) We also saw a cane toad in our yard.

My dream had precognitive threads. There is now a leak from the bathroom faucet. It is hard to fix because the cabinet is at a slight slope. When it is off, it is not flat, allowing water to flow past the new part (which I bought at Hinkler Central) and where it should be closed off. It might have worked if it had been flexible enough to cover the angle of the hole.

Also in my dream, Zsuzsanna had a concern about a big bug high on the wall. Afterward, something similar happened, and it turned out to be a big cricket that had gotten into our house.

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

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Morning of October 1, 2013. Tuesday.



Lately (mostly over only the past few months), I have had a recurring “dream habit” of immediately shooting anyone that even slightly annoys me in a dream scenario (almost always near the last three-quarters to the ending of my dream) - although it probably has not vividly occurred in dreams more than about ten times thus far. I am not quite sure how this developed - especially as my patience with people in real life is much higher than many I know of - or perhaps this is actually the reason - to safely “unwind” in my dream, so to speak. I seem to immediately be able to use my hand as a gun (as I am not fully clear on if my hand is actually holding anything when I shoot) although there is always a gun-like sound. The other character (usually male) drops on the first shot and is out of my dream entirely - and for the most part, no other additional character even seems to notice. Strangely enough, it does not even feel like a violent act in my dream, more of a way to simply eliminate certain annoying characters of my dream to move on to a potentially better scenario - my mind is quite focused and certain and aware on this act as if it is the right thing to do at any time within any dream - and how it works - as I said, a new actual dream “habit”.

This dream, at one point, is focused on a lifelong dream theme of three-storey houses not being quite “safe”. In one part of my dream, I seem to be looking over our “new home”. My oldest daughter is much younger - however, it could also be that our baby daughter is much older, yet she does mostly seem like our oldest daughter Amelia at about six years or more younger. Our “home” first seems to be a very large garage-like structure with a low roof, with no additional rooms. It has a sort of old dampness like a cave and is on the corner of a city block. Coincidentally, this seems connected directly to (but completely different locations) 415 N Wilson Street/Avenue (but the “actual” in-dream location corresponding with 2 West Oak Street, near the “Tree of Knowledge” that has been there since I was very young), which, in turn, was a scene from another dream I wrote about on here recently. Not only that, in Google maps, I spotted the triangular area and even a yellow smaller bulldozer-like vehicle on the 415 address, which eerily seems to come straight from “The Dead One” entry on here even though it was a childhood dream of many years back.

Later, though, we are in the same location, but there is something about needing to move. It is a three-storey house. The third floor is sort of disintegrating over time, the floorboards unsafe to walk on, so we do not really use the third floor anymore. Curiously, even though I have had similar dreams about such odd floors all my life, it was only in very recent times that I actually lived in (or even been in at all in real life, for that matter) a house with weird, thin floorboards with larger gaps between them (which also happens to be where the astronomically highest rent ever paid is, as well - even though this house would probably not even be allowed to stand in the USA). This of course, had to be some form of precognition, as no matter how strange or unlikely dream imagery is, it often turns out to reflect amazing foresight of various kinds even for the very distant future.

There seems to be concern about daughter Amelia’s safety and we are planning to move from the house in my dream (in real life, our present house is only one storey). There are scenes about information on why people should not live in a three-storey house, the third floor which is often more quickly in a state of disintegration, perhaps with a connection to the idea of relics in an attic. It may also relate to a sense of mainstream group mind being “above” me in numbers, yet in a state of decay relative to knowledge (whereas the basement would be the supraconscious, both positive and negative totality). Realistically, it does not make that much sense at all for a higher floor in a house to be “older” or more worn out than the rest of the house. If anything, an upper floor, when an addition to a two-storey house, would have to be new or less used, not more. Yet in some dreams, buildings seem to age in “reverse” (at least relative to the first floor) as if the building in my dream had somehow been built from the top floor down(?).

Later, as we are mostly no longer in the house, I look out to the opposite side of the street and notice a very large and metallic green lamppost on the corner (at least five times bigger than what it should be - an exact, but “giant” model of the lamppost near the “Tree of Knowledge” in my hometown), across from where our front door would be (which in real life is now part of a bank’s parking lot, called “Suntrust” - and across the street is an inn, not a warehouse). I expect that it will fall over but miss our house, and it does, with a very loud crash near an industrial building or warehouse (rather than the inn). There is also an odd parallel sense of the “Witness Tree” or Witness Tree junction, also in Florida, and reminding me of both the Rod Stewart song “Broken Arrow” (a special song my wife and I heard prior to meeting) where he says “I will meet you at the Witness Tree, leave the whole world behind”, and the Wendy Matthews “Witness Tree” CD that came out around the same time I came to Australia (1994).

I go out to look around and when I am in the area, I am mistaken for the main member of a repair team to fix the lamppost and told to write down the serial number for the main damaged section of the light from the lamp section. Another man shows up shortly. I have a piece of paper (about half of A4 size) and a pencil. I start to write the code with the paper being on an outer window ledge of the warehouse, part of it being 415WS - 415 Wilson Street (which I think I change by drawing over it to something like X465 or similar). I ask him in a sarcastic manner if I have to write up a report (as I was the only witness to what had happened - but the report is to mostly document the exact levels of damage and repair costs) and, being slightly surprised by his answer, he says yes. I ask him about what form I should use and he makes a remark about needing to travel to get it from the company (even though there seems to be a folder of work and report forms on the outer window ledge of the warehouse with yellow and blue sheets as well as white sheets for original copies). Everything must be done by me - as he is only a foreman who only gives the orders on what people do regarding street maintenance (I have not worked for a street department in about twenty years - the last one being in Onalaska). I start to regret getting involved and being mistaken for a street department worker, but I do start to write out the longer number. I have a little trouble with the pencil as the lead is somewhat dull, so have to trace over the lines, pressing harder, in an attempt to darken them. The number codes seem very important in relating to something else - they have several sixes and at least one nine, so I focus on them for quite some time - perhaps some important, almost barely familiar patterns. This turns out to be various distortions of planck’s constant.

The other (first) man yells at me for taking so long in copying and writing out the serial code (of which I think there are at least four or five sections of mostly numbers and a few other letters in addition to the “X” and “WS”). I feel a vague sense of frustration - as I know I should be getting more out of what I am seeing on the paper (focusing on the thicker spiral of the number six which has erasure marks around the “stem” of the six), but calmly materialize a gun in my hand and shoot him. A short time passes and I shoot the other man as well. I then contemplate shooting all of the others (although I see no one else) that are supposedly not a part of “my” dream realm and slowly wake with no additional drama.

My wife’s dream of the same time period had similar elements, even the concept of being in the third floor of a house.

Other associations in addition to those already mentioned above:

“Lily of the Lamplight” I sang to my wife on a cassette tape before we met (a part of her name in English meaning “Lily”).

A recurring childhood dream of Susan R, the “other”, sitting on a bench near the “Tree of Knowledge” and crying (which would have also been near the same lamppost).

The seriously weird-sounding David Essex song (from 1973) “Lamplight”.

A number of incredibly strange coincidences and “parallels” to the new Wendy Matthews CD (all of her past CDs also having bizarre coincidences and “parallels”), even the “same” address in a song title (but in real life, a different town of course).

Important Links:

“Tree of Knowledge” with green lamppost near:

http://www.panoramio.com/photo/33809019

I have included this next first link for my own reference (though incomplete in light of her newest album related to the link after that), because, when it comes to Wendy Matthews songs, it gets pretty crazy with at least a hundred strange coincidences relating to her music and my wife and I, one recent album (one song “explained” in the second link here) has both the name of my oldest daughter and even has this song with (including the same three-digit number and name) an actual street address (but most assuredly a different town) from my childhood.

http://www.wendymatthews.com.au/discography.htm

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aGBDy3CnsIA (Note the master key “twenty-two” gate, as a heart - on the tattoo on the back at the end of the video which is apparently the album cover - and her rather odd comment - “tattooed on my memory banks” relative to things manifesting later in life - her exact words). I’m putting this up, as I consider it very precise validation at several levels (for me, personally). There was a lot more, but I decided not to post it here, as it is far too detailed, complex, and personal and is, quite frankly, too “miraculous” so to speak - some things should probably stay sacred.

Morning of September 27, 2013. Friday.



This dream was very strange and featured a type of perception I do not recall engaging in before. Most of the first section is uneventful. There is a woman I have not seen for years who worked in the office of a factory I worked at (Eco 3) way back in 1979 to 1980 or so, where they made mostly winter mats out of old tires and other items such as mats for a restaurant cooking area. I vaguely remember talking with her, but I am not sure about what. She was somewhat slovenly and we did not really talk much in real life. This takes place at my older sister’s last house she lived before I came to Australia.

I am explaining to a few people I know (mostly my wife, who, by dream continuity, would already know) how I can somehow transport to America and then back into the house where we live now (commonly recurring) by the power of thought alone (just by thinking and concentrating on it in the “right” way). In some dreams, I am aware that I can even take other people with me. It seems a rather “ordinary” ability and I am aware of how and why I do it - to get to places quicker as well as to save money on air fare. In this case, I bring my family to the USA to visit my relatives (even though they do not live at the house in my dream anymore).

There is additional detail to the front porch of the house - three concrete steps that are not very high but spread out over the whole area. This is actually a “borrowed” feature of a business building we pass when walking home from the mall (which I had not realized at first until finding myself in the area again in real life). My wife and I are later on the floor of the porch, but it is not as comfortable as it could be.

Soon, I am able to pull pillows out from “another dimension” (out of the air - or perhaps somehow “making” them as I move my arms back down). It feels very realistic to have them magically materialize in my hands out of “nowhere” and also seems like an “ordinary” ability. I “pull out” about five pillows from above my head, most of them having some sort of jaguar or leopard print.

Time passes and I start to think about how a mattress would be even better to have and to lie on. I am actually able to slowly pull a mattress out from above my head and we are soon resting on it.

Later, my wife and I are kissing and such, but a very strange awareness takes over. It is almost like my head (and hers) are “empty” hoods that somehow go over and inside each other at the same time. It feels extremely strange (but not unpleasant). It is almost as if the “hoods” are “eating” each other but still continuing to exist. Oddly enough, I am also aware of more normal sensations in the rest of my body. It is just my head that has transformed. At one point, my “mouth and throat” feel very large and with additional (unknown) structures. It is almost as if some of the structures we are “moving around in” with our “heads” are non-organic, yet still part of us. For example, at one point it seems like my wife’s tongue is actually a large wooden structure and is part of a nearby building, perhaps a balustrade. I wake up wondering what in the world is going on but not even feeling that disoriented.

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Morning of September 25, 2013. Wednesday.

Dream #: 17,082-04. Reading time: 1 min 38 sec.



My dream brought back to mind a movie I had forgotten about years ago. I watched it tonight with Zsuzsanna (the last time I saw it being about a year before we met). My dream is a fictitious sequel of “The Meteor Man” (1993) that starred Robert Townsend. It has two Caucasian men of about twenty whom I think are involved in a motorcycle repair business.

The two men are seen as villains by certain people at times, even though they save others. There is a scene where they stop a car from crashing and right after that they cool off an angry crowd (who do not like them) who seem to have heat exhaustion - the Meteor Men blowing at them from a distance using “ice breath.” Most of them seem thankful except for a few who immediately leave. They can fly at times, but not very well. An old woman eventually seems annoyed by them following her to make sure she crosses the busy streets safely.

The most bizarre scene is where they visit the original Meteor Man for advice and such. He (Robert Townsend) seems much older, around seventy. He has wondrous powers but seemingly not much control over them as he has supposedly gotten old and his body “too weak” to exhibit more mental focus over. It is from the shifting energies. As he is talking, while giving good advice, he says “I don’t want you to see me like this” (implying they should leave) when he begins changing uncontrollably into an anthropomorphic reptilian pangolin porcupine hybrid. He later changes in other strange ways and his body and height nearly double in size.

At one point, when he is bigger, a turntable seems to be growing vertically and facing forward from below his left shoulder as he faces towards my incorporeal view. Two big flies buzz around and land on the record that is somehow playing vertically as if they are attracted to the partly organic turntable. The two men leave to go off on other misadventures. The movie is unfinished, but this is the point my dream shifts into even more unusual imagery with robotic flies and organic human-like rocks and hair and eyes, and pangolins and porcupine quills, and unusual futuristic buildings. I slowly wake, with a dream within a dream of how I am talking about differences in the different Meteorite Men costumes to Zsuzsanna, as well as other clear images from the real movie.

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Morning of September 25, 2013. Wednesday.



I think I was in France - as a young Roma girl asks me if I saw the “Awful Tower”, a supposed play on “Eiffel Tower”, yet there were groups of (traditional) Shawnee from America. One of them says to a politician near a carnival stand relating to shooting ducks: “The white man should go home to work on the French interior” (somewhat precognitive, but a jumbled phrasing of the actual French Roma article I saw - a bit later by chance) and I get the feeling he actually meant “frontier” - though it does say “interior” in the actual article - a good example of how even the dreaming mind questions fairly precise nuances of real precognitive events. Mostly though, the dream started with carnivals being promoted near Paris, I think, yet there was a “knowledge” that carnivals were not nearly as common as they used to be and the Roma and their culture would decrease. I am with the Roma people and feel much less out of place than I ever had in western society, with scenes much like the movie on the mundiromani.com main page. I am looking around, expecting to see only the Roma doing activities relating to an upcoming carnival.

An older man is painting floral designs on a solid wooden wagon wheel (no spokes - just a flat surface area) of part of a caravan (recurring from when I was very young long before I knew about my wife-to-be), but I also notice a young chubby, light-haired Caucasian girl in a pale pink and ill-fitting ballet outfit. She is somewhat uncoordinated yet is still going to be part of the show and festivities, which I perceive as out of place. She tries a cartwheel but it fails, and she falls to the side but is uninjured. A few of the other people seem Caucasian, but there are quite a few Roma people at a nearby group of carnival stalls and kiosks and apparently a smaller camp. I feel sort of sorry for the girl in a way that she will “never integrate into Roma culture” or see things from a particular “harder” or more world-weary perspective. (Again, this appears to be somewhat “reverse precognitive” relating to a very recent article I had not seen yet: “Roma should ‘go home’, says France’s interior minister” - and there are similar scenarios as to the article in the dream but in “reverse”.) I see the real image of a wagon wheel in a field (recurring since childhood) which represents the modern Roma flag.

Later, though, I am at a round table outside somewhere. I notice an extraordinarily beautiful darker Roma girl that looks a lot like my wife (with dark hair and almost luminescent green eyes), but is around eighteen or so, and I mostly only see her profile and do not talk directly to her - she seems almost like a “calm and patient” young goddess. She has the exact same name as my wife and even mentions (what sounds like) my oldest son’s first name (which is not Roma but Shawnee). I mention all this to some people at another table (that is farther out from the camp) and later, another “version”(?) of my wife. An unattractively taller Caucasian woman, fairly thin but with overly wide hips and blonde hair actually said the other girl was saying something like “macaw” or “Magoo” (which is odd that she did not know the exact word or name as she had been sitting with her and a couple others and talking with them).

I thank her for explaining the sound of the actual name or word, in a sincere manner, but she takes it as a sort of sarcasm for some unknown reason and walks off in a huff.

(Precognition validation) Article Link: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worl...-minister.html

UPDATE: An additional somewhat precognitive element just appeared, but is not directly related to the date of the article (which was September 27, 2013) that appeared online after the dream and in my news feed on Facebook (referring to the date of April 24-26, 2014 - my father coincidentally had been born on April 26, 1901). Link: http://indiancountrytodaymedianetwor...america-151477

Morning of September 24, 2013. Tuesday.



We are living in a different house, seemingly some sort of apartment that is somewhat like the King Street boarding house except that the area that would otherwise be the downstairs foyer is extended out into a much larger living area, oriented east and west.

At one point, a light-haired young man comes in from his own entrance downstairs at the east side of the building, yet it seems the staircase is part of a larger room of our own living area as I am able to look up and see him walking up the steps. He yells really loudly to someone as he is walking up the steps and I hear his friend upstairs yell back. They are still talking at a ridiculous volume even when right next to each other. I am very annoyed. It reminds me of people in real life who talk as loudly as possible even though the other person may be close or even right next to them - have never made much sense of why people are like that (even when I was a child), and it is not when the person is angry, either. It is just another way to impose, while having no self-control or respect for others, I guess.

However, I take an odd approach to how I confront them. One of them comes downstairs again. I say (not aggressively), “Could you please stop shouting? There are other people who do not want to hear it.” I seem to be implying to him that I personally do not mind all the yelling. Strangely enough, he does not get angry. We have a somewhat lengthy and friendly conversation before he continues out of the building. I seem to be in my own place, near the middle of the living room, and he is in his own place by his front door at the bottom of the stairs, even though we seem to be in the same general living area (even the same room), yet living in our own separate homes at the same time - a scene/environment that would not make any sense in real life other than perhaps as with an apartment building with a shared court or similar area for such as hanging clothes or parking or such.

Time passes and things are picked up by an “invisible force” and thrown against the wall, including some of our children’s toys, such as Lego blocks. The furniture is not disturbed that much and I also feel a slight breeze as the curtains are swept back and torn somewhat, like as with larger claws - but I still do not feel very alarmed.

I speak out so that my wife and kids (who are in other rooms) are aware of the events. “It’s a poltergeist,” I say, rather unemotionally, informatively, and with authority, but as if it is not that big of a deal at all. I notice that the other man has returned and is in my family’s living area now. There is also a (fictional) hallway that runs north and south along the east wall of the foyer. I now realize that the other two younger males are ghosts, but usually not all that mischievous. He (the one that had used the stairs) makes a comment about how he has “been like this for awhile” as if he is uncertain of his place in life.

I look at the east wall of the hallway near where there is also a door. The other (dark-haired) ghost seems to be having problems getting through the wall downstairs just to the left of another actual door. His hands come out, glowing green, creating a somewhat interesting unknown emotion (not fear). I make a note of it to my family as if we are watching a performance at a circus or music venue. I go over and help him by pulling on his hands to help him complete his act of going through the wall. The two ghosts are thankful for my help. I even throw a few things around (not in any violent way, just sort of tossing a few unbreakable objects about) supposedly to help them gain confidence in knowing what to do in their apparent new roles as “bolder guys” (poltergeists) so that they can do more of what they are supposed to be doing as ghosts. I then hear some sort of instrumental music, sort of like a harpsichord, but it seems to be coming from an iPhone that one of the ghosts has(?) Eventually, I am aware there are words to the song but I only hear the first few lines, something about waiting at a bus stop and the weather being nice and sunny (from a ghost’s perspective or as light coming in through the window of an old dusty room) as I wake.

Even though I was annoyed by their shouting at first, ironically, I come to “understand” that the poltergeists are normally less loud and annoying than living people in the neighborhood.

Oddly enough, before I actually took any notice, the last three dreams on here (before mine - this being in reference to the dream journal site only) include some of the same scenes or details (not all of which I even included in this shorter entry anyway - but this has happened quite often before and I do not always comment on it):

Exorcism

2 Dragonflies

Grandmother’s Haunted House

The following is a formal rewrite of a 2013 online dream journal entry with added supplementation on Tuesday, 14 August 2018.



Wooden Bridge Mishap of a Friend

Morning of September 18, 2013. Wednesday.

Reading time: 4 min 58 sec. Readability score: 63.

My dream contains features, in a typical composite, from two recurring settings that always vary, as do all settings. One has the appearance of an area in Wisconsin near Chipmunk Coulee (where I lived as a child), and the other is a partial model of the fishing pier in El Jobean, Florida (pictured above). It is inherently a model of subliminal dream state awareness. It is caused by deliberately entering into the dream state with lucidity and expectancy, the setting being a manifestation of this process, but losing the essence of the consciously aware self on the other side of liminal space, though while still maintaining the thread of dream state awareness and wonder if only subliminally. Its foundation is from the Enchanted Forest from Harvey Comics.

The wooden bridge in this dream is a deliberate form of both dream state induction and potential exit upon which the basis is the vestibular system correlation of the otherwise illusory dream body. It stems from the concept of crossing over into a different level of consciousness while maintaining the balance of illusion and elevation from the real physical body. As with a porch, it is one of the most common buffers as such. This reactive representation developed from before I could read and write.

Part of an offset dream before returning to the induction point involves me hand-washing about five darker pairs of my socks in the Loomis Street house in Wisconsin. (This is a subliminal thread of awareness that I am not wearing socks in my sleep.) I think that I will travel north. I have a familiar idea that I have had in many previous dreams - that I will fly about and live and sleep in the trees and fly around mostly only at night in a cloak or bed sheet. The false memory of paying $15.00 a month to live with undesirable males does not appeal to me.

Eventually, I become aware that I will be exploring the Enchanted Forest with Rick, a friend from Chicago during my young-adult years in La Crosse. As we approach the wooden bridge, I see that it does not seem suitable for cars, as the wood is thin plywood. It also does not seem wide enough for cars and people to cross at the same time. I am aware, though, that they are probably still working on building or repairing the bridge at this time and the plywood is only temporary.

Rick and I jog over the first sections and curves, heading east to the wondrous place, but there is concern from Rick that cars may be approaching from behind us from the west, though I do not see or hear any. I move along confidently, running over an area where a small section of wood is missing near the railing to my right. It is about as wide as a person’s waist, big enough to fall through if not paying attention. I soon realize, though, that Rick may not see it if he is not watching where he is going. Sure enough, when he reaches the small open area, he falls through to the ground below only a moment before I start to warn him, about twenty feet, immediately beginning to scream and moan in pain. For a short time, I think about going on by myself, especially as I am aware of a farm below where people may help him.

I look through the gap to see that Rick had picked up the section of plywood that had fallen from the bridge a few days ago. He uses it to saw off the tail from a dog that is watching a flock of sheep. I feel embarrassed by his act as I see an unknown woman approaching him (from the east) to see what is going on. I consider that he will get into trouble. However, she does not seem concerned about the dog. I ask Rick several times if he had broken his leg, but I do not get a clear answer. Eventually, I reach down, and with the help of the woman, we manage to get him back up through the hole. At this point, the distance to the ground seems only about six feet, despite the view from moments before, when it was a very long distance down.

He sits down to rest to look at his leg. I become annoyed that my dream may end before we get to the more secluded area that has beautiful scenery as well as healing energy. (This is interesting, as my dream self is not lucid.) There may also be treasures there. The left side of his left knee, by the kneecap, comes off in four or five smaller ceramic-like pieces that he turns around in his hand with a slight concern. I am not sure if we will be going to the hospital from that point when my dream fades.

---

Most of what is in this dream is from autoscripting, developed over a lifetime, though which remains primarily subliminal after moving beyond liminal space. Unfortunately, people who believe in “dream interpretation” seem incapable of understanding that, so I will explain some threads here.

Rick’s entry into my dream is a factor of the continuous persistence of dream state indicators (the subliminal, liminal, or lucid awareness of being asleep and in the dream state). For several months, one of the only status updates on his Facebook timeline was “Rick is going to the mattresses,” including a few times on the date of this dream. That was from updates from a Facebook game he played a lot. It is, of course, a play on going to sleep and dreaming of which I could not block once going beyond liminal space to a point beyond where viable lucidity could exist. Therefore, “Rick is going to the mattresses” was unintentionally part of the autoscripting, and his appearance resulted, not as the usual preconscious avatar but as a projection of my dream self. (The woman who helped him up through the hole was the preconscious avatar in this case.) I am often aware of what is scripting my dreams in real time, though without viable lucidity.

The cutting off of the dog’s tail is from an induction affirmation, “I am made of the healthiest energies in the universe.” It unintentionally stemmed from “puppy dogs’ tails…that’s what little boys are made of.” His left knee being ceramic is a reminder that the physicality of the dream state is illusory. (Left is associated with the direction of sleep induction and dreaming, as I most often sleep on my left side.) It also ties in with one of my first recalled dreams about a ceramic chicken. In real life, the healing of Zsuzsanna’s right knee (beyond medical possibility) had been the result of healing affirmations and, by her belief, my presence (and us finally meeting). It all fits even as a typical distortion, as my original companion on the induction bridge was Brenda, who was proven to have been a stand-in for Zsuzsanna. In childhood dreams, I deliberately (for drama and adventure) fell from the bridge, landing in a prehistoric world, though there were many resets and alternate versions of that series that I used for years.

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Morning of September 17, 2013. Tuesday.



In real life this morning, there was a strong wind that blew a very large piece of roofing tin from a neighbor’s house onto our roof (and onto the ground a few hours later). The piece was as long as a person. The noise likely influenced my dream.

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In my dream, I go outside and notice a large box kite on the edge of our roof on the east side of our house (left side when facing the front). This kite is entangled near the middle section. A neighbor from a few houses south of us comes over and expresses his frustration over the incident, as it is his kite. He asks for my help in getting it down, which I eventually manage to do somehow as others, including Zsuzsanna, watch.

The man makes a remark about how he probably should not have been flying his kite because of the heavier wind and its changes of direction though he also comments on how it is usually a good area to fly a kite.

There turns out to be more than the pieces of the broken box kite on the roof. There are also a few small cardboard boxes. In addition, some of the boxes contain small tools and keys. All of the extra items I find had supposedly been inside the kite and also belonged to the man. The main additional items I notice are small silver keys of about the size for a small suitcase. I also notice a few allen wrenches. Most of these smaller items slide around loosely in the boxes that are much larger for the items than necessary. All these small additional items and the cardboard boxes were being flown within the kite as he usually had done (though I am not sure if it was because of absentmindedness on his part or a routine related to some sort of ongoing maintenance of his kite).

The man is thankful for my ability to somehow climb up and get everything down (somehow without a ladder) and most everything is retrieved. There are also other small bits, such as a few older broken screws, possibly from the edge of the roof or rain gutter rather than the kite. The detail is quite realistic at this point even when I focus on it directly.

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Morning of September 13, 2013. Friday. (Wife’s birthday.)



I am much younger, perhaps twenty, living in an unfamiliar building. It may be that I share the building and have my own smaller apartment but it does seem like my own home. My main bedroom seems to be to the west of the main area (or largest rooms) of the building. To the north is a larger window, and near it, a desk upon which sits an electronic keyboard. My bed is to the left of the window. To the right of the window, against the east wall, is a large and supposedly ancient “two-storey” cage (the second tier was seemingly added much later as an extra precaution). This cage (big enough for perhaps two or three people to fit in) has two layers of “protection” around it; the thick window-screen-like wire (though a bit more sparse, about one inch by one inch) and outside of that, strong glass. Both “layers” have a sliding door on the left side of it. (I am not sure if the top tier of the hutch opens or has a door of any kind.) The layout and “memory” seems vaguely like our apartment from Gellibrand Street in Clayfield - Brisbane.

The top level of the cage is mostly empty, but does have some fresh grass. I do not notice any animals. I look closely at the bottom level, through the glass, and note movement at times. I slide the glass partly open after I think I see some sort of ancient being’s face; somewhat human, but not quite. I am not fully lucid, but it is like I am trying to bring forth an “ancient magic”. With the glass sliding door open, I can now hear wind and a slight buzzing and humming. Time passes, and I notice miniature quetzals, perhaps as many as twenty, fluttering around in spirals, no bigger than a hummingbird. I also notice phosphorescent moths. Looking more closely, I begin to sense an intense “ancient” power, windy and electrical, emanating from the cage. There are various invisible insects of some kind, likely some sort of prehistoric tiny gnat, that form different magnetic “signatures” to set certain things in motion, as a sort of creative power. The hutch seems to hold all the mystery of time and space in one small area. The grass inside that section is like very old straw and there are also stones here and there.

I listen to the wind and buzzing and feel the powerful currents of air through the wire section. Rather foolishly I open the wire and wooden sliding door, perhaps for the first time in hundreds of years. It was the only thing keeping in whatever was there for so long. I feel an intense energy and pleasure. I feel like I want to learn more (with some sort of ritual), but I do not have any sort of book and no poetry or incantation comes to mind that I think might be needed under the circumstances.

Later, there are two (unknown) girls in a room east of where I had been. I follow what appears to be some of the “creatures” from the cage, especially the beautiful miniature quetzals. The girls look at me and smile. Another girl appears for a short time. I then discover I had a third daughter I had somehow never known about who is between the ages of my second-youngest son and oldest daughter. She is now about or almost fourteen. I am glad to finally meet her. I suppose she had been ill for a long time, or made sick by ordinary humans, so is only now “coming to life” to get out and do more. I do not remember my wife having an additional baby during the supposed “missing time” in my dream, but I feel very thankful. She and my wife are going out to the park, I think, with the rest of the family, and later - shopping. She is very happy to finally meet me. I notice that there are small stones under the skin of her face, on each side of her mouth and going down her chin to her neck, forming a DNA pattern, and do not think it to be unusual. It may be some sort of acne, I reason, or she may have the stones there as a personal tribal belief. Her name, strangely enough, is Mastermind (a game my wife played often at that age), a name that I do not see as too unusual, just a bit different than “average”. She also has two middle names like all our offspring, but I do not fully recall those.

“They all got out,” I tell the two other girls, speaking of the birds and the moths. They look at me and then each other as if they are acknowledging a private joke with their facial expressions. I start to take them on a tour of the place. I point to what I first think are the magical birds flying about. I then see the butterflies/moths. However, it turns out to be the intricate attractive design of wallpaper instead. The girls giggle (either at my mistake or at the fact it magically did change before my eyes). I then look around and notice about seven miniature quetzals flying in a linear pattern. I reach out to touch them. I see that they are actually refrigerator magnets. The girls giggle again. I feel rather stupid as if I had seen a “UFO” and it turned out to be a flashlight.

This is where they become “ancient trees” and wrap around me in “creaking” spirals, buzzing, and wind, “ancient” powerful humming from the “source”. My dream “resets”.

A little later, I am back near the cage. I had been aware of an ancient (thousands of years old) “living face” attempting to make contact with me. After a time, I notice a young male of about twenty, who seems to have emerged from the cage as some sort of “wizard” within the prior twenty minutes of my dream or so. He stands across the room from me, closer to the entryway of the room to the south, looking about as if “new” to the modern world. Two other people show up (unknown or perhaps older classmates from years back).

He starts to complain about “all those years” (while in the cage) that he had to listen to me playing the accordion (including when I was a child growing up) and organ (but mostly the accordion seems to give him grief). I then see that he has some sort of “magic wand” which is like an old branch (which I remember seeing in the hutch). The accordion has always been the most beautiful-sounding musical instrument to me, and so I then assume this person must be mentally ill and thus has no powers whatsoever, especially as he seems to be enjoying some badly out-of-tune (“detuned”) modern gated synth music. He raises his magic wand to “zap” me (and even “erase” me from existence - the thanks I get for letting him out I guess) - the loud/soft gating of the detuned synth (from a radio in another room or from one being carried by one of the two new people?) seems to literally be shutting his consciousness off and on for a time so that his mind is “gone” or in no stable, focused, or fixed state - and so I really do not expect anything at all to happen. In fact, I feel sorry for him, and I just stand there gawking in disbelief as this “magician” (now wearing a hospital gown) waves his wand around. It turns out that he was a mental patient from a psychiatric ward who had escaped from a local hospital and somehow crawled into our house from an open window and was still “playing magician” as he had been doing with other patients at the ward. The two newer people lead him away as he mumbles, swaying a bit, heading back to the hospital.

I later am near the desk, thinking about putting the electronic keyboard away for a time and playing an accordion again for the first time in years, not even to record, just to enjoy in solitude (I sometimes played the accordion or an organ for hours in complete darkness many years ago - I learned later that, when I played during the day, older people sometimes came out to sit outside and listen during those times - even bringing a living room chair out to sit on). The two girls are “normal” again. I turn around and say, “I thought he came from the cage…at first”.

My hands are “warping” into joined “flexible stones” (that seem to be “speaking” softly or humming with various changing tones and dynamics in a musical sense), feathers, multicolored exposed “bones” and “spines”/“quills” (seven or eight fingers on each hand, moving out almost like accordion bellows with a suggestion of being webbed) and DNA-like swirls whereby small comet-shaped glowing “orbs” rapidly “swim” around the DNA “map”/“grid” like a complex “network” of “trains” of light (an effect I have clearly seen on my arms and hands all my life - to the point where I would gaze at my arms and hands in the dark for fifteen or more minutes at a time - often, one would suddenly become brighter and then vanish completely, exactly like a dying ember - since I have never read about anyone else experiencing this - it is just one more puzzle for me). I breathe softly.

The girl whispers, “you were in the cage (saying my name lovingly)…you are the source…” I then see that my own face is made of a mix of stone and “buzzing” wind and that there was an ancient mirror (of polished stone?) sitting in one corner of the cage - I had been (seemingly) looking at myself from outside the cage.

Ehecatl-Quetzalcoatl seems the main force or character in this dream. Ehecatl is a pre-Columbian deity associated with the wind, who features in Aztec mythology and the mythologies of other cultures from the central Mexico region of Mesoamerica. He is most usually interpreted as the aspect of the Feathered Serpent deity (Quetzalcoatl in Aztec and other Nahua cultures) as a god of wind, and is therefore also known as Ehecatl-Quetzalcoatl. Ehecatl also figures prominently as one of the creator gods and culture heroes in the mythical creation accounts documented for pre-Columbian central Mexican cultures. Mexico inches closer to loan of Moctezuma’s headdress

“Ehecatl” is very slightly like “Ethel”, my mother’s name. The two levels of the cage likely represented my conscious self (smaller, top level) over my dream self’s “mind”, while holding the power of the supraconscious (“source”).

Wind, however, has been established in my dreams (including precognitive ones) as a reference to the passage of time.

The combined failed magician/fool character in this particular dream (a character I have noted in past dreams) is commonly how I really “see” consensus at times and do not consider it a direct aspect or symbol of real mental health. Also, as I was growing up, watching magicians usually annoyed me (especially as I knew most aspects of all the tricks from various older books published in the 1800s as well as the obvious) - so I presently associate magicians with: lying, boredom, pointless actions, con men, and gossip.

Another dream relating to the quetzal being associated with the “source”: Soul’s Union of the Quetzal and the Silver Sebright Bantam. This dream was one of the most vivid dreams of my lifetime, as well as being astoundingly multilayered and literally precise in a precognitive sense.

This dream is also similar in the sense of mirror/self realization as a much older dream - Beyond the Martian Time Barrier.

Other references to aspects of stones, “buzzing”, wind, and birds have been noted in previous entries and I will update them as I get to them. These stones are like “power objects” in the supposed Nahua sense and relative to the belief of objects in the environment influencing human behavior. When these things (usually stones, in one, an owl statue) appear in dreams, they are extremely heavy, create a sort of “buzz” or “hum” and sometimes seem to manifest wind as a magnetic force of some sort, a possible additional play on magnet and magic.