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    Lucid Dreams

    1. 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

      Categories
      lucid
    2. 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.


    3. 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
    4. 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
    5. 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.


    6. 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.


    7. 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
    8. 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
    9. 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.


      Categories
      lucid
    10. Ralph Waite Leaves on a Giant Sparrow

      by , 11-07-2018 at 12:08 PM
      Afternoon of November 7, 2018. Wednesday.

      Dream #: 18,951-07. Reading time: 40 sec. Readability score: 60.



      Ralph Waite as on the 1980s television series “The Mississippi” is the main speaker at a meeting in a business-like environment in a large office, though he sits at a desk while speaking. He is wearing a dark suit.

      I am semi-lucid, and in the back of my mind, I had been contemplating more precise terms for common induction, dreaming, and waking processes for statistical reasons. One of these was considering the statistical variation between male and female vestibular system simulacrums to see if there was a significant difference when part of the flight symbol subset.

      Ralph’s talk seems to be about the nature of dreams and laws regarding them, but I do not discern the content of what he is telling the other males. He has a hardcover book open and refers to it now and then.

      There is a slight change of mood, and Ralph sits atop a giant sparrow (suddenly outside the building) and flies off on it.



      male vestibular system simulacrum (in flight), (Ralph Waite)

      literal dream space thread


      Categories
      lucid
    11. I cannot create a monster

      by , 11-03-2018 at 05:03 PM
      Morning of November 3, 2018. Saturday.

      Dream #: 18,947-02. Reading time (optimized): 2 min.



      I enter my dream in a very unusual way for a morning dream. The process is so slow that I am hardly aware of the distinction between my waking thoughts and the dreamscape slowly coming into existence. (This usually only occurs in the first stage of a sleep cycle.) My conscious self identity remains fully aware. I walk into an isolated area that looks like a construction site with minimal detail.

      I decide to find Zsuzsanna (even though she is physically close to me in reality). There is a trailer home oriented lengthwise in the middle of a dirt road. I walk around to the other side, deciding that she will be in it. The door is too small for me to go into the structure, so I mentally will the whole wall to vanish.

      After she comes out, I stand with Zsuzsanna, kissing her. My state of apex lucidity is slightly glitchy. Although it is otherwise very realistic, her face glows at times and seems transparent. There is a curious quivering effect.

      Later, I start to throw knives at random unknown people whom I see as intruding into my dream space. They mostly go into chests and sometimes heads. There is no blood or gore.

      I eventually reach a point where the setting solidifies to where I am looking at a window screen (liminal space divider). It now seems to be dark out. I cannot believe how perfect and even the screen is. It defies my imagination with its evenness and perfections and remains stable until I wake. I try to create a monster to come up (to whatever building I am in) from the other side of the screen - to press its face against it.

      I imagine an ugly gargoyle coming up to the screen from the darkness outside. There is no change in the window or the screen’s detail. The screen remains perfect, and no monster ever appears. I get annoyed, trying to force my imagination as much as I can to come up with the ugliest monster possible, and start growling loudly to encourage the process. Nothing happens. I continue to make loud growling sounds while anticipating the appearance of a horrifying creature. Nothing appears. I realize my conscious self identity is too integrated within the dream state to allow something implausible to manifest at this point. If I were less lucid, I would probably have more dream control. A window screen represents the essence of the preconscious function (reticular activating system), so ultimately it is pointless to bring something imaginary from the other side of it. I have absentmindedly attempted this in many past dreams without success.



      The part with the knives seemingly stems from Zsuzsanna looking at a Deadpool knife block recently, but she had not told me about it. (They were in his head.) At least one dream per sleep cycle is telepathic (for lack of a better word), often with more precise detail depending on the nature of the feature or event.



      “Encyclopedia of Dreams, RAS Window Mediation” is a work in progress. More information about the causal factors and meaning of this dream (18,947-02) will be in that reference by January 1, 2020.


      Updated 02-19-2019 at 05:48 PM by 1390

      Categories
      lucid
    12. The “Patches” Odyssey, Part Three

      by , 11-02-2018 at 07:36 PM
      Morning of May 24, 1970. Sunday.

      Dream #: 1,252-01. Reading time (optimized): 2 min. Readability score: 73.



      A sense of timelessness permeates my offset dream of me “sleeping” in the southwest Cubitis house’s bedroom. I see myself lying on my back (as if seeing “me” from the left side of the bed) looking up at the window (though the me in bed would not be able to see the detail of the sash window as my dream view does). Three bats flutter in and out through the missing window panes of the highest row. They move slowly and slightly erratically like butterflies more than bats. They seem to be important in a way that projects into my future well-being, many years from now.

      I become aware of what I first think might be a coffin to the left of the bed. (There is a vague association with the opened coffin in the Barbara Steele movie “Castle of Blood.”) However, I then perceive it as an electric reed organ.

      From the song: “Down by the river that flows by the coal yards”… “He says a girl name of Patches was found, floating face down in that dirty old river.” My childhood self (age nine) did not wholly understand the song. I knew Patches had drowned and that it related to love, but little else. Still, the magical beings had resurrected her in my dream.

      In my dream’s final scene (May 24, 1970 version), I felt myself rising into the air while watching “me” walking with Patches (Brenda) down a footpath (away from my direct view). It seems to be morning. There is a winter wind implied (even though it is summer in reality) and dead leaves blowing around. There is a strange feeling of destiny as the three entities (bats, fairies, butterflies, moths, now birds) are still watching us. I see a closeup on my right of three small birds huddling together in a supposed cold breeze. Beyond, I see “me” and Brenda walking as my dream self rises higher. I wake with a sense of deep peace and even nostalgia.



      After moving to Australia, Google Maps revealed the Cubitis house had become as it was in my dream. I have included the image; top, from years ago; bottom, as it is now.

      The bedroom was also as it was only in my dream years later while I was still living there. The bed would be in the same location, and my father had bought an electric reed organ (the kind of which a fan blows through reeds) and placed it in the same location.

      Zsuzsanna’s father had caught three bats in a jar when she was young and kept them for a short time.

      The Port Kembla Coal Terminal (near where Zsuzsanna was born) became a key coal exporting facility on Australia’s east coast.

      Zsuzsanna was involved (when younger) with a church of which she did not want to be.

      Brenda (Patches) was a stand-in in many dreams, though sometimes my “mystery girl” accurately appeared as Zsuzsanna long before I met her in waking life, even with the unlikely Hungarian-Australian accent.


      Updated 11-03-2018 at 09:42 AM by 1390

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    13. The “Patches” Odyssey, Part Two

      by , 11-02-2018 at 05:02 PM
      Morning of May 24, 1970. Sunday.

      Dream #: 1,252-01. Reading time (optimized): 2 min. Readability score: 73.



      In Part One of “The ‘Patches’ Odyssey,” I described the beginning of my dream, of which was like watching the opening credits of the animated musical “Gay Purr-ee” (1962). “Opening credits” had been a part of many other dream state beginnings in my childhood, but this was clearer and brighter than usual. There were several different versions of the “Patches” dreams (later ones by intent), though with the same main segments.

      After the alligators had flipped our canoe, they drag Brenda to the opposite side of the river from where Toby and I had been in the cypress trees. In addition to the “alligator king” character being influenced by “Turok Son of Stone,” the scenario itself was from an influence of the cover of the January 1968 issue.

      Toby and I are later on the opposite bank of the river. We discover that Brenda is on her back, presumably having drowned, draped over a tree stump, with water dripping from her shoes (which are dark blue with silver buckles). I am kneeling before the dramatic scene on one knee. There is no blood or gore. Eventually, three bats fly around and seem to mourn the scene. I am also aware that they are fairies which may be able to heal her at a later date. (This stems from earlier dream segments about three fairies changing into different forms, including bats, birds, butterflies, and moths.) They sing the Dickey Lee song “Patches” with different lyrics, which oddly distort to “down by the sea” (instead of “down by the river,” even though the setting is near the river and not the ocean). Her resurrection is a result of otherworldly magic.

      In another dream segment, Brenda is missing. She had been kidnapped by a man who sells Holy Bibles from a small market stall. I follow the three entities (that are now butterflies that become moths as evening approaches). I discover that Brenda has been tied up and gagged and kept behind the market stall on the lowest shelf facing the inside. The unfamiliar man (who presents a mean visage) is selling small King James Bibles with both black and white simulated leather covers. I untie and rescue her when he is elsewhere. Red silk bookmarks of the type sewn into the Holy Bibles were sewn together and had been used to tie her up. (There may be an association with snakes, as such bookmarks are narrow and red as well as forked on the outside end.)

      In an offset segment, a literal bed space strand occurs. I see myself as sleeping in the southwest bedroom (my parents’ bedroom that my father later used for music). The head of the bed was against the west wall, where there was a row of three big jalousie windows in reality. In my dream, however, there was only one sash window in the middle of the west wall. It has twelve small panes. The top three are missing.



      End of Part Two. There will be one more main part.


    14. The “Patches” Odyssey, Part One

      by , 11-02-2018 at 12:13 PM
      Morning of May 24, 1970. Sunday.

      Dream #: 1,252-01. Reading time (optimized): 2 min. Readability score: 63.



      At about two o'clock in the morning on May 24, 1970, I enter the dream state in passive semi-lucidity. I watch the bright and colorful opening credits for the animated musical “Gay Purr-ee” (1962). It seems to be playing in a peaceful private place within my mind rather than on television or in a movie theater. So far, I am aware that I am in my bed (Cubitis house).

      Over time, I decide it will become the beginning of a long dream that has the essence of a movie. I soon see starring “Toby T_____,” “Brenda W_____,” and my name, integrated with various panels of different visuals (in the same style as the opening of “Gay Purr-ee” and with similar music). My father’s role displays as the “King of the Alligators.” (In real life, my father often sang Smiley Burnette’s “Don Juan of Sevillio,” which had the line “I’m known as the king of the matadors.” In a later version of this dream over a year later, his dream role was “The Alligator King;” an influence from a “Sesame Street” short.)

      I become aware of a recurring dream state induction process (which began in early childhood) - the presence of a water body. I slowly lose my semi-lucidity, but not my conscious self’s identity. I am in a canoe with Brenda (schoolmate, neighbor, and friend) and Toby (schoolmate and friend). The three of us are on a journey that seems to be occurring at night. We are traveling in a canoe on Peace River (Lettuce Lake area). The scene is peaceful and enjoyable, but I absentmindedly focus on my dream becoming dramatic, even thrilling.

      A man on the riverbank commands three alligators to attack our canoe. (It is my father acting in this imaginary role, though I am not wholly lucid in this version of my dream even though I “wrote the script” for this scene, not because of any associations with my father being perceived as such, even metaphorically, but to fill the imaginary role with a familiar character as with a school play.) He is wearing a cape made of alligator hide. (I am vaguely aware of the cypress knee lamps he used to make in real life when we lived in Fort Ogden. The clothing imagery was an influence from characters in Gold Key’s “Turok Son of Stone” comic book.)

      As we watch, the alligators approach and flip our canoe. That triggers a vestibular correlation event, where I fly through the air and land in a tree about ten feet from the ground on the opposite side of the river as the alligator king. Toby is clutching to the trunk of a nearby tree. At first, I view this event as comedic. However, I notice that Brenda is being pulled (on her back) over the surface of the water by an alligator.



      I end part one here. Part two continues with additional important scenes and segments from other dream versions with the same foundation, which occurred over about two years (1969-1971).


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    15. The Fall

      by , 10-16-2018 at 07:28 PM
      Afternoon of October 12, 2018. Friday.

      Dream #: 18,925-02. Reading time (optimized): 2 min. Readability score: 53.



      I have written in many other entries on the nature of vestibular system correlation, my main dreaming process, which is biological, unrelated to the often fallacious concept of “dream interpretation,” as its cause stems from the waking process, not real life. To this day, people continue to invent nonsensical “meanings” for it without any understanding of what the dream state is.

      One of the many differences between the status of the dream self and the conscious identity as in real life is that it lacks awareness of where its real physical body is or how it is oriented. That is enough to manifest a falling dream, either by subliminal anticipation of the process or the process itself. Think about it carefully, using genuine intelligence. The conscious self rarely enters enigmatic space during viable wakefulness and usually knows where the physical body is and how it is oriented. I am only repeating this information here to list some additional factors of falling dreams, based on my last one (although many mindsets will never understand the dream state and continue to propagate misinformation).



      In this case, I had fallen asleep on the couch while sitting up. Zsuzsanna was out with our children at the time. The television was on, and it was fairly loud. I could hear it through the veil of sleep. It was a man’s voice talking continuously. As soon as he stopped talking and there was silence for about two seconds, I experienced a falling dream.



      Here is how it has always worked for me since childhood. If I am asleep in the dream state where everything in my real environment is mostly quiet, and there is an unexpected noise, I will probably quickly enter enigmatic space, sometimes with a preconscious avatar or a vestibular system avatar dominating the process, depending on the part of the sleep cycle. The opposite also occurs as with my above dream. If a voice or other sound is continuous in the background and stops, I will also experience the falling start.

      Additionally, if Zsuzsanna has her hand on my chest or abdomen as I am sleeping but moves it away, I will sometimes have a falling start. In contrast, if she moves to touch me when I am asleep when her fingers are still inches away, I sometimes experience the back spasm “fall” and nearly jerk sideways off the bed.

      Ultimately, this reveals that it is a concurrent change of any kind that sometimes causes this “falling” event, to repeat, continuous sound followed by silence, silence followed by unexpected sound, having someone else’s hand on me as I sleep and they move it away, someone touching me when they had not been. Thus, both stimulus and its sudden absence result in the same waking process. I do not find that unusual at all, as the mind, even in sleep, is designed to detect changes in environmental status. (Still, as with other waking processes, a fall can be used to vivify and sustain a dream.)


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