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    Lucid Dreams

    1. Qebehsenuef Canopic Jar (see also “bird resurrection”)

      by , Yesterday at 06:20 AM
      Morning of October 18, 2019. Friday.

      Dream #: 19,296-12. Reading time: 34 sec.



      In the dryad stage, there is liminal ambiguity. The sign of movement and discernment of white (as with a nymph’s elaborate dress) seems to be a misperception. There is no one sitting on the low branch of a big tree in an otherwise open area.

      As a result, I walk through the sparse ruins of an unknown town, signifying the dream state is slowly losing cohesion. There is a more clearly defined warehouse (liminal space) I enter.

      I find an Egyptian falcon canopic jar (Qebehsenuef). It contains a mummified parrot that comes to life when I hold it. I vividly feel the movement as I hold onto it, even a subtle, pleasing vibration as if from a mild electrical current.



      See also “bird resurrection” (for the explanation of this process) that will follow this entry and have the date of October 18, 2019.


      Categories
      lucid
    2. People Lake Canoeing, Me Bicycle Riding, MP Typewriter

      by , 09-24-2019 at 02:00 PM
      Morning of September 24, 2019. Tuesday.

      Dream #: 19,272-02. Reading time (optimized): 1 min 30 sec.



      Precursory: I am aware I am in bed at our present address though I do not perceive the room with coherence even though it is a vivid dream. My head is downward (though I am sleeping on my left side) though I have no perception of any other body part yet. My mouth is not against the mattress as my head seems elevated a few inches. I am aware it is morning, and although daylight is present, there is no cohesive imagery yet.

      Induction: I am aware of at least one Naiad, but I do not see her. I can only hear her voice and breath in my ear after several short snippets of gibberish from farther behind me. She says, “Eeny, meeny, miny, moe” while near my left ear. Although I try to bring about communication with expectation with liminal dream state awareness, it does not occur, though I do not possess speech capability in this mode.

      Post-induction: I watch several couples in canoes from a distance. I do not attempt to identify anyone. It seems to be late afternoon now. There are minimal ruins adjacent to the shore.

      Vestibular stage: I ride a bicycle on a hilltop, avoiding sparsely arranged rocks. My concern is minimal as the tires phase through any that are directly in front of my path. (I am aware of attempting to enhance my imaginary physicality with this activity.)

      The drop: I ride my bicycle off the edge of an embankment, and I slowly fly after it vanishes (without exit point modulation). I end up hovering near the doorway of one of the ruins, and I have a desire to look inside. I float into the room in a standing position.

      Cognitive arousal: An MP (preconscious modulator as authoritative) is sitting at a desk with a typewriter. I cannot tell if he is real and had fallen asleep or if he is a mannequin. Upon attempting to read what he had typed, I see only sequences of random letters that change each time I look again. My view seems magnified. I see the red and black ribbon, red above black.



      (As I am already in emerging awareness and cognitive arousal there is no need for the preconscious to be intrusive.)


      Updated 09-24-2019 at 04:09 PM by 1390

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      lucid
    3. The Propeller

      by , 09-13-2019 at 09:05 AM
      Morning of March 5, 2019. Tuesday.

      Dream #: 19,069-04. Reading time (optimized): 1 min.



      I stand in the early afternoon in an unknown location directly facing the propeller of a small white airplane. The propeller moves a short distance counterclockwise, but then it seems like it had not. I try to determine if it had by concentrating on the scene. I do not see a pilot, as the windows reflect blue sky and white clouds with a gray hue.

      I consider the essence of a slipstream, though mainly, since childhood, my modulation of the imaginary physicality of dreaming has been about balance or hovering to sustain and vivify a dream. I know there would have to be no imagined physical contact (despite ordinary wall mediation using phasing). I feel a sense of movement, but wake.



      “Beautiful Sparkling Tornadoes” from this date was about phasing and slipstreams as well. It is the principal factor of dream entry and egress. (That dream had a fictitious author who wrote about unknown creatures coming through the slipstream to “threaten humanity,” though there was no threat to me.) I can assume (at an esoteric level) that a tornado is a primary vehicle of enigmatic space (when it models the virtual Merkaba), yet which I have modulated even in childhood with one of my favorite dreams of spinning a merry-go-round to counteract an oncoming tornado.



      dream type: liminal modulation of imaginary physicality, supraliminal imaginary slipstream (virtual Merkaba)



      Induction, dreaming, and waking processes stem from the same dynamics regardless of any personification or preconscious simulacrum. There is no vestibular system personification here, only me.


      Updated 09-17-2019 at 03:37 AM by 1390

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      lucid
    4. Kurt Russell and a Hang Glider

      by , 06-12-2019 at 12:12 PM
      Morning of June 12, 2019. Wednesday.

      Dream #: 19,168-06. Reading time: 20 sec.



      Precursory (vestibular): Actor Kurt Russell (as in “Escape from New York” and “Escape from L.A.”) straps into an unrealistically oversized hang glider that seems to have many metal sheets in its construction. There are several panels on the underside with computer displays. An unknown male (to the left in my view) helps him.

      The drop: He flies a short distance above a street, between tall business buildings. Soon, he falls from the hang glider (that stays in the air) but seems uninjured, landing in a standing position.


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      lucid
    5. A Simple Takeoff

      by , 02-14-2019 at 08:14 AM
      Early evening of February 14, 2019. Thursday.

      Dream #: 19,050-04. Reading time (optimized): 30 sec.



      My attention is directed down at a display that is first showing a Boeing 747 beginning takeoff. It is dark. It soon becomes more as if I am looking at a representation of the event.

      The bottom of my viewpoint displays a white rectangle in an otherwise dark field. It slowly grows upward as indicating the path the airplane is taking.

      At first, I think the area is large, perhaps an American state, but I soon realize I am looking at the layout of a small island. The runway is the entire length of it.

      The white line becomes longer, extending more quickly as I realize this, understanding that it correlates with (and represents) the waking process, at this point realizing I am dreaming and waking.


      Tags: airplane, runway
      Categories
      lucid
    6. Arrival

      by , 01-24-2019 at 07:19 AM
      Morning of January 22, 2019. Tuesday.

      Dream #: 19,027-05. Reading time (optimized): 1 min.



      This entry describes a vivid dream from an early evening nap, which typically renders rapidly processed vestibular system correlation, most often something or someone falling or coming down from above as in this case, though still inherited in some cases and not always with a so-called sleep start.



      In my dream, I remain aware of being in the dream state, but I do not attempt to mediate any of the processes. It seems to be in the afternoon. I watch a black double-decker bus slowly come down from the sky and land in the middle of the street in an unknown location. (It comes straight down from above. There is no forward movement.) I do not see any wheels, but otherwise, it has no unusual features. However, it is implied to be an alien spacecraft despite the “aliens” appearing as human teenagers that fill the bus. (There are no thoughts about a driver or any defined backstory.)

      An unknown girl comes from the back, from the top section, and emerges through the main entrance on the side facing me. A crowd of people slowly approach her. The bus is facing to my right, implying left-hand drive, so it is erroneous if intending a UK or Australian setting.



      Waking autosymbolism is usually oriented to the right when sleeping on my left side. Bus dreams are usually linear vestibular system correlation and inherited, not transitional and projected as here, though again, this is a nap dream. I am assuming the emergence simulacrum represents Zsuzsanna.


      Updated 01-25-2019 at 06:55 AM by 1390

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      lucid
    7. Lucid Dreaming Silliness

      by , 01-23-2019 at 06:13 AM
      Morning of January 23, 2019. Wednesday.

      Dream #: 19,028-02, 19,028-03. Reading time: 2 min 54 sec.



      I am listening to my music with headphones. I listen to the same (fictitious) track twice in a row. It is about three minutes in length. I notice how soft the snare sounds (with no attack, that is, as soft as an organ). There is a lead synth that almost forms words and phrases, the last phrase sounding like “dance with me,” the overall effect seemingly caused by modulation. (Otherwise, it is like a reed organ with a precisely controlled wah effect.)

      The setting seems to be the Cubitis house (unseen since 1978), though I do recall that I am married and have children. I start to wonder where my second-youngest son is. I know that Zsuzsanna and our two youngest children went to the library. I walk around calling his name, but there is no response. Finally, I hear my oldest son (from behind his door) say that he is in his (my oldest son’s) room. He had been playing a computer game.

      Although my oldest son looks somewhat like himself (though nothing is rendered correctly in dreams to prevent false associations with waking life other than with interconsciousness threads), my second-youngest son has a “face” like coin-operated binoculars. It takes a few seconds to realize this oddity. “Oh, I am dreaming,” I explain to them. I describe how I know I am dreaming because of his face, mostly noting how his eyes could not be as such in real life. From here, I walk back into the lounge room, which is now more like our present home.

      There is a vague sense of wariness even though I am aware I am dreaming due to an unusual sound to the north. I consider it might be an airplane that might crash near or onto our house (which would be autosymbolism of the waking process concerning vestibular dynamics similar to a typical falling start). That is not the case. I watch various lights and shadowy forms move past the windows (which are factors of liminal space division between dream self and conscious self). I soon wake briefly, but again enter sleep.

      I again start to look for my second-youngest son. I try to open a door, but he pushes it back, and I realize I am dreaming. The house is a distortion of the Cubitis house but changes to our present home in a short time.

      I go out to our front yard. (There is no fence as in waking life.) It is nighttime even though I am aware it is daylight in reality. There are still strange sounds coming from the north. Three unfamiliar people walk toward me, continuing south. I consider that I should talk to them because they may hold threads of the interconsciousness and have something informative to say. Their appearances are unrealistic. Their faces do not look like possible human faces but are also not threatening or eerie. I focus on talking to one unfamiliar man. The sounds to the north are coming from a (fictitious) train station. He does not make much sense. He says something about espionage regarding the trains. They continue on their way.

      I walk east down our street, but the houses are not as in waking life. I summon Zsuzsanna for a love-making session. I use the porch factor to enhance my dream. When I turn about to continue east, I come to a fictitious open area where there are elevated train tracks above a mostly featureless field. There is a false memory regarding something about the man I talked to mentioning that the “king of light” was near here. My dream is extraordinarily vivid at this point.

      A young Sam Neill walks by, with his usual questionable smile, and I suspect he is the preconscious simulacrum showing up to wake me. Several additional men walking from the north, though all unfamiliar, also enter the open area. Sam Neill and the other men are all seemingly railroad workers. I ask them some questions about where I am and if there is something I need to know. They do not say anything of interest.

      As suspected, they all walk toward me to shake me into vestibular system correlation (or to coalesce) to reinitiate my consciousness. Instead, I wave my hand, and all the men go flying back through the air before getting close enough. After effortlessly doing this several times, I decide to wake on my own.


    8. Conquering the Dream State

      by , 01-14-2019 at 09:27 AM
      Morning of January 14, 2019. Monday.

      Dream #: 19,019-02. Reading time: 3 min 40 sec.



      Most threads of the awareness of my identity remain in entering sleep, though my perception of what house I am in changes. I look at a knotty pine wall. It would be the north wall of the Cubitis living room (in Florida, not seen in real life since 1978), though I erroneously consider it as the north wall of the northeast bedroom of the Loomis Street house (in Wisconsin, unseen in real life since 1994), which it becomes later. Instead of correctly seeing this segment as a dream, I see it as an opportunity to enter the dream state consciously. I focus on separating the imaginary wall from the “real” version (which is also imaginary). There is double vision for a short time. A pack of cigarettes is somehow stuck sideways on the wall, from its back. I pull one out to the left from it with my hands that I can feel but not see, considering my invisible hands as my link to the dream state. It is working well as I hold my discernment. (I do not smoke in real life.) I can vividly feel the texture of the surfaces with my invisible hands.

      Later, I am in my fictitious body in the northeast bedroom of the Loomis Street house. A sheet is in a lump on the bed, but I summon Zsuzsanna from beneath it. We indulge in lovemaking twice. After the second session, I absentmindedly decide she will become a vampire, but the transformation only lasts for about two seconds before the essence of the scenario returns to normal.

      The preconscious manifests as an unknown male and seems to want me to leave the dream state. He sings a sarcastic song that includes obscenities and talks about what my encounter might symbolize.

      “Dreams don’t have symbols as meaning anything in waking life, you stupid STUPID f—!” I say as loudly as I can. I continue to affirm my knowledge that dreams stem from dreaming processes and my perception of being asleep and are concurrent events that result from being in the dream state. “This is not my real body,” I say, “I am not conscious, I am asleep, and this is not my house. It is a dream, so SHUT UP and stop comparing it with real life, you idiot!”

      The preconscious simulacrum sits on the window sill and looks sad and defeated (atypically passive behavior for reticular activating system personification), and my dream becomes astoundingly vivid as a result. I go to the porch to enhance my awareness even more. Using the porch to solidify the “bridge” of enigmatic space as I have done many times in past dreams, my dream becomes so vivid that I marvel at the detail and three-dimensionality. I decide to make fun of people who talk about “reality checks,” making my right hand claw-like and smashing my fingers against the front wall of the porch to the right of its door. It is as solid as a rock at this level of dream state awareness. “Reality checks are re-tar-da-tion,” I tap with each syllable, feeling very amused and satisfied.

      As I stand on the north side of the porch, I watch my brother-in-law Bob walk out from inside his house, probably going out to his car. Marilyn (deceased in real life) also eventually walks out after him. I recall that she had died in real life. I talk to her briefly.

      I look out at the street and suburban neighborhood. It seems to be late morning. “Oh, it’s all so beautiful,” I scream as loudly as I can. “You’re beautiful,” I scream at the sky. “You’re beautiful,” I scream at the bumpy, shiny surface of the street. “It’s beautiful,” I yell at least ten times. I continue to marvel at the detail. The more I scream, and the more emotion I use, the more vivid my dream becomes and the more it stabilizes. I look around in astonishment. There is an incredible sense of peace, security, and well-being.

      I eventually choose to step outside from the porch door (a technique I have used since childhood), and my dream vivifies again. I cross the street and indulge in lovemaking with Zsuzsanna (from behind) for the third time as she leans forward against a wooden fence (not a real-life feature but a thread that divides enigmatic space). Other people are standing around.

      Natural melatonin mediation becomes an emerging thread. As a result, I notice a shallow pond on my left in someone’s front yard. Vestibular system correlation begins to initialize, creating a line of cars approaching from my right, curiously on the big front lawns of the neighboring houses rather than the street. In an absentminded reinduction thread, the first car, about two-thirds the size of a real one, flies through the air and crashes into the pond. I find it very amusing and anticipate the next one. Bob and Marilyn and a few other people look on. The second car flies through the air and crashes into the pond.

      The second car rises vertically from the pond and walks toward me, its underside facing me. “C'mon, you need to wake up now, your body’s gotta p-ss,” it says in a hoarse electronic voice. It grows stubby metal arms in an attempt to beat me up. I swing my right fist around at it and effortlessly knock it back into the pond.

      Even so, I move my right leg over the bottom horizontal bar of the wooden fence to wake myself instantly.


      Categories
      lucid
    9. Death of a Starfish

      by , 01-11-2019 at 08:15 AM
      Morning of January 11, 2019. Friday.

      Dream #: 19,016-02. Reading time: 40 sec.



      I am at a dinner party with unfamiliar people in a dimly lit room, seemingly at night. I had been aware of being in the dream state, but I choose to become passive to the scenario.

      There is a glass of cola to my right. Before I consider drinking any, my right hand becomes a starfish. It squirms and detaches from my arm, spurting cola from several holes. It tips the glass over and dies.

      Even though I am aware I am dreaming, I briefly consider what I will do without a right hand. There is only a slight surprise (no emotion), but I choose to pull myself out of the scenario to enter another.



      Message: Don’t drink cola. (I gave up cola as a habit about two years ago. It is not worth the health risk and I cannot believe how stupid I have been in that department, and for the record, in addition to having an awful taste making them pointless to drink, diet drinks are much worse.)


      Categories
      lucid
    10. Unknown Reasons (Low Flight)

      by , 12-26-2018 at 06:26 PM
      Night of December 26, 2018. Wednesday.

      Dream #: 19,000-02. Reading time: 33 sec.



      It is late at night. I see no one. I am rapidly flying in a non-corporeal mode very close to the surface of a parking lot, with vivid concurrent awareness of my conscious self identity. It is most likely an association with the area near the La Crosse post office, though a uniquely alternate version. I notice several street lights.

      I quickly and effortlessly glide toward a low-set wall of only about a foot high. Instead of phasing through it or stopping, I instantly rise above it upon reaching it and drop down to my original orientation after flying over it.

      A male voice speaks as I approach a vacant bus shelter. The voice says, “We have reasons for being here. Our reasons for being here are beyond your capability to understand.”

      I am puzzled but unimpressed and soon wake.


      Updated 08-27-2019 at 11:00 AM by 1390

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      lucid
    11. Dreams in the Heat

      by , 11-26-2018 at 11:21 AM
      Morning of November 26, 2018. Monday.

      Dreams #: 18,970-4, 18,970-3, and 18,970-2. Reading time: 1 min 45 sec. Readability score: 74.



      This entry contains content from three dreams.



      It is nighttime. I am living in La Crosse in an unknown part of town. It is freezing outside. I am aware of Marilyn (half-sister on my mother’s side), but I do not recall that she had died in 2014. She appears as she was in the 1960s. There is no factor of my conscious self identity present (other than my subliminal awareness of being asleep as evidenced by putting blankets around me) and no memory of ever having lived in Australia. (The non-lucid dream self, contrary to popular misconception, lacks viable contact with the unconscious mind.)

      I am uncertain of the living arrangement, but I am going for a long walk (without knowing the backstory). I make several attempts to wrap two blankets around my winter clothes but cannot cover all of my neck. One is the plaid one familiar to me in real life and which I presently have in my computer room. (I did have it over my shoulders when it was cold.) I go back into the unknown house (though familiar to my dream self) at least once. I can see my breath when I am walking outside.

      Although I have one blanket around my shoulders like a cape, I try to wrap the other one over the front of my body with less success.

      That dream was caused by being overheated before waking.



      In another dream, I see an outer view of the Starship Enterprise (in outer space), looking at it from the front. Soon, I see three Apollo astronauts coming out of a square trapdoor opening at the top of the saucer section, near the front. Their size is far too big to match the scale of the spaceship. Logically, they could not have come from the space inferred. There is only room for them to stand atop the saucer section. I am semi-lucid at this point.



      In my final dream, I am feeling too hot, and I am wholly aware of being in the dream state. At this point, I decide to wake.

      Trying to wake up is a bit slow. To do this, I absentmindedly become part cat. I have a cat’s tail and paws for hands, but a mostly human body. I try to climb a wall that represents achieving full consciousness, but instead, my legs and arms rapidly move in place with no results. At this point, I am virtually incorporeal but watching my other dream self still trying to climb the wall as part cat, part man in an exaggerated flurry of illusory physical movement, and I wake from here.


    12. Cheerful “Helicopter”

      by , 11-19-2018 at 07:31 AM
      Morning of November 19, 2018. Monday.

      Dream #: 18,963-04 and # 18,963-05. Reading time: 42 sec. Readability score: 52.



      Having fallen asleep briefly while sitting on our couch, there is the usual natural melatonin trope of the illusory sound of splashing water. Someone unknown had thrown a hardcover book, and it breaks the surface of a pond. This autosymbolic event is a lifelong recurring process that encodes my liminal acknowledgment that the wakefulness required for the reading of a book is usually no longer present when sleeping.

      Later, while lying in our bed, an additional melatonin trope is present, this time as an upside-down surface of a water body about three feet above me (atypical). A whirlpool (vestibular nexus) forms. At the same time, I hear the sound of a helicopter rotor, though it is very soft and pleasant. It is as if a whirlpool and a helicopter rotor (without the helicopter present in this case) are the same. A hummingbird flies down from out of the “whirlpool” and cheerfully says “hi” in a young feminine voice (water nymph as shapeshifter) but as if the formant is a band higher. I am very amused by this brief encounter.


    13. To Retrieve a Sacred Wedding Stick

      by , 11-14-2018 at 09:51 AM
      Morning of November 14, 2018. Wednesday.

      Dream #: 18,958-02. Reading time (optimized): 3 min. Readability score: 58.



      In a previous dream including my conscious self’s identity and to some extent in real life, I had been building a more extensive paradigm understructure for my online dream journal as a way to make it more idiot-proof, despite there being virtually no evidence that mainstream humanity has any understanding of the induction, dreaming, and waking processes. I had been focusing on “personifications of” while branching into more specific factors of vestibular system correlation, nexus simulacrums, and melatonin mediation. During this time, my dream self loses most of its present waking life identity while still holding a subliminal awareness of concurrent physicality and a minimal degree of lucid dream state awareness to where only a sliver of my conscious self’s identity remains extant; just enough to deliberately enter the role of another denizen to experiment with the dream space.

      The backstory of an upcoming wedding comes to the forefront. It is a transpersonal thread adjacent to the virtual foreshore. There is the sighting of an unknown groom of about twenty-five in my incorporeal glimpse. I possess the body of a man who is about eighty years old to sustain his role in attaining a sacred stick from a secret area for the unknown young groom (who remains in another part of town), maintaining faith that any other sentient presence in the dream space will not detect me as an imposter. The interconsciousness borrows pieces of a setting that I had not lived in real life for years, making sure it is incorrect in design so that it is not mistaken for having waking life relevance or the fallacy of symbolism that the unintelligent pursue. I am at an erroneous version of the Stadcor Street house in Brisbane. This version of the house has an enclosed wooden back porch, which expands over the area that the utility room was in real life (though the utility room was at ground level). Another male, unknown, about the age of the man whose body I possess, is with me, remaining on my left (dream attention orientation, as I sleep on my left side). I do not see the house as a place of significance, and my dream self only vaguely realizes that it is an illusory model of a place I had once lived. There is little of my conscious self identity that remains extant.

      We are to meet with a man who is over a hundred years old, known only as General. Another man who is about a hundred years old arrives first. The four of us briefly appraise each other. I marvel at how wrinkled their faces are. I nod to General, addressing him solely and lightly with “General.” He does not seem to suspect I am not the old man. I feel comfortable in my fictitious role. He had stepped from a back room of the house, perhaps the kitchen in assuming that this fake house was somewhat like the original. The other man had come in from outside. My dream self’s attention does not focus on the porch setting as the nexus within liminal space; that virtual bridge which I had entered thousands of times in previous dreams since early childhood. Despite “General” being a military association with the preconscious and interconsciousness simulacra, I do not anticipate dominance by their presence. We go out into the backyard. It seems to be late morning. I am holding a large irregular stick in my left hand.

      We all have walking sticks, but the groom’s sacred stick is just beyond the backyard in a cluster of trees. In reality, this would have been our neighbor’s backyard, which was divided from ours by a small fence.

      As I am walking, the other end of my stick, still being used with my left hand, somehow gets stuck between two small cages (the bottom of one and the top of the other). I am not sure if they contain any animals. A big cloth is covering them. It takes me a few minutes to pull it out. The man who had been with me, the first one, seems slightly annoyed and moves to help me, but the stick is already out.

      Liminal awareness had established that I was sleeping on my left arm in an uncomfortable position, which became a factor of my dream’s scenario, altering its potential. My dream self absentmindedly points this out, with the stick, where my essence is, beneath the cloth (bed sheet) and asleep, my waking self “caged” within the virtual lattice of physicality.


      Categories
      lucid
    14. Beautiful Wondrous Rain

      by , 11-10-2018 at 09:08 AM
      Morning of November 10, 2018. Saturday.

      Dream #: 18,954-02. Reading time: 2 min 26 sec. Readability score: 66.



      I am looking at a map of the island of Sulawesi (Celebes) with its very unusual shape. I notice an isolated fictitious town with the name of “Core” that is otherwise where Central, West, and South Sulawesi meet. There are mostly only native inhabitants there. I project my dream self into the map to create the foundation of my dream. I decide I will play the role of introducing new opportunities and resources to the region.

      At one point, I mentally create diced pineapples in a bowl and the tribal leader enjoys them. I reassure him that I will only allow a few tourists to come to the area only during certain time periods and that I will have my team clean the region on a regular basis.

      At another point, several soldiers, all in black, come to occupy the area. I mentally create an army that comes in from a ship and wipes them all out.

      I decide to go on a journey to Los Angeles. An unfamiliar backpacker asks if he can go with us, and I say yes. I enjoy the idea of a random dream denizen (almost as if I see him as “real” or having perception) being on my ship in my dream. Although the trip is supposed to last several days, we arrive there within minutes. I try to make the ocean waves more interesting. In the distance, there seem to be huge “curtains.”

      I alter the nature and progression of my dream with the intent of increasing my dream state awareness. I create rain to sustain and vivify my dream to astounding levels (as water and its specific dynamics has always been a natural melatonin factor of the dream state). The weight and coolness of the water is incredibly realistic. I slowly fly in standing position above an unknown town in semidarkness. I marvel at the pleasurable sensations of the rain that falls upon my skin and the realistic, vivid sound of rain all around me. I fly slowly over a small canal with culverts on each end.

      I eventually land and bring out the sun. I walk down a wooden sidewalk and notice the nexus simulacrum (personified preconscious) going through a doorway built adjacent to the building on my right but of which goes to the intersection, but I mentally force him to turn around. I ask him, “What is your name?” He looks puzzled and in a hurry. “What is your name?” I ask him two more times, in case there is an interconsciousness thread present.

      I maintain the expectation that the nexus simulacrum may have a level of transpersonal intelligence that may not originate from my dream self.

      He answers with “Dennis Sunimun.” I let him leave, as he seems late for a business meeting. Still, “Dennis” is the name of my brother and “Sunimun” is an obvious distortion of “sunny man.” I was hoping for something more, evidence of intelligence beyond my own, which has been present in certain previous dreams.

      I reset my dream, with the possibility I will wake myself, but I end up in an offset dream of lesser vividness. Still, I make my way to a library to write down the event. I walk through midair, about ten feet above the street, with a few random people.

      In the library, I read handwritten details in a notebook. I write “Dennis Sunimun” several times, but when I look each time, I am not sure if it is clear enough to carry over into my conscious memory and I try writing it again. Finally, I go into another area of the library and walk out with my family.


      Categories
      lucid
    15. Hyper-Tactility

      by , 11-08-2018 at 08:43 AM
      Morning of November 8, 2018. Thursday.

      Dream #: 18,952-02. Reading time (optimized): 2 min. Readability score: 63.



      I become aware in non-lucidity of being in an unknown room in semidarkness. Marilyn (half-sister on my mother’s side, deceased) is watching something on a big screen. (I do not recall that she had died in February 2014, and I had not seen her in real life since February 1994. She appears as she was in the 1960s.) It is not discernible at first. A slide projector and another device are near me. The image on the screen is mostly sky, but there is a fuzzy pale rendering of a broadcast tower. I make some remarks about it. (Eventually, there had been some unusual thoughts about which times near the end of the year that Marilyn had been alive and when she had not, which makes no sense. My non-lucid dream self must have forgotten the definitions of “death” and “life.”)

      Over time, I turn a dial on the device and the image of the broadcast tower becomes clearer. Soon, the imagery changes and is taking up the entire screen as a lattice of a broadcast tower. Simultaneously, my dream becomes more vivid. I realize that I can now create and control imagery, but I am not yet lucid.

      I bring about the imagery of a tunnel to my right. It is holographic and about four feet up from the floor. It is a corrugated metal culvert pipe. My cat Smokey from over twenty years ago comes through, and I pet her. I explain to Marilyn what cat it is even though she would have known. There is something within my mind about summoning a denizen from the nexus, the space between dreaming and waking, which the cat represents. I realize that the broadcast tower was a deliberate creation to augment the dynamics of my current conscious self identity in the dream state and so I enter apex lucidity, where the dream state is wholly mine. Looking at the broadcast tower lattice, it now appears to have pieces of pillow stuffing in equidistant patterns in certain corners.

      I summon a young Zsuzsanna as when we first met in 1994. She shines with internal energy. The tangibility reaches hyper-realistic forms, indistinguishable from waking life other than being more defined than would be possible in reality. We indulge in making love for a considerable time. There is a point where she floats above me, glowing internally, and rushes at me, this stemming from deliberate anticipation. There is a notion of a vampire theme (in a role-playing context, though horror movie scenarios have remained difficult to make as I have gotten older), initiated by typical lucid dream state frisson, but I cannot sustain the concept, as my thinking skills are too active.



      Certain levels of apex lucidity are such a different experience and level of perception and control it is like a different level of existence. The broadcast tower of enhancing the dream state seems as viable as the opening of a door (or opening a wall like a door) or the use of a staircase.


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