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    Lucid Dreams

    1. From Buzzing to Lucidity to Transparency

      by , 11-01-2013 at 05:01 PM
      Morning of November 1, 2013. Friday.



      I am in a non-lucid dream and near the Cubitis kitchenette, where I have not been (in real life) since 1978. I start to wonder about what I had been doing or was going to do, as my memory is not viable. I decide to lie down in bed to relax, becoming somewhat aware of where I really am (at our present address) but I am soon annoyed by a sound I have never heard before; a mix of high-pitched buzzing and squealing with fuzzy dynamics. I hear it three times, about four feet away from our bed but at slightly different heights each time. It is apparently not a noise from our fan, as it is on the other side. I feel I am nearing sleep, so I assume I am hearing hypnagogic sounds.

      Several minutes pass. I am near an oversized snowmobile that is covered in snow and unlikely to go anywhere, as the skis and tracks seem frozen below ground level. I start to move the snow away. It seems to be a reasonable task as if I am somehow engaged in some sort of advanced photo projection and instead of just feeling and examining all of the environment, I am actually more immersed in it and mentally manipulating it. I move a lot of snow away but wonder how I will get the snowmobile out. I see that it is not a snowmobile at all but John’s Martian tank (from the Cowsills Harvey comic book). After a time I start to wonder why I am bothering as it will probably never run again anyway, and had been abandoned by the owner.

      I “wake up” but I am still in the dream state, though it is not like a typical false awakening. I am sitting at a computer in the living room, near the kitchenette, in Cubitis. My computer is displaying an error window that moves across the screen. I try to read it, as I become semi-lucid and I want to see what my dream is “saying”, so I study the imagery as closely as possible. However, the letters keep changing as I watch (as is usually the case in dreams) and the error window still moves about in random ways, although I almost think I see all the letters of the pattern, “You can’t catch me, I’m the gingerbread man!” from a book from my childhood (and get an image from another window that appears to be on an Internet recipe page for cakes and cookies).

      The size of the error window changes a few times. I get an illogical idea that I should fix the problem in my dream and it will change the real-life situation (though my computer was not on in real life and never displayed such an error). I look around the room, amazed at the clearness of my perception and how alive I feel. I start to question if I am still dreaming or somehow woke up and went to my computer without realizing it (yet illogically without the understanding that I could not possibly be back in Cubitis).

      I walk down a hall, realizing I am now at our old address on Barolin Street. Knowing I am dreaming, I decide to have a sensual interlude with Zsuzsanna. It is afternoon and a few random dream characters are present in the house. Zsuzsanna and I are soon together and I turn around, mentally willing the door to close.

      I loudly say “Lock!” and hear a loud metallic sound from exactly where I expect it within the doorknob, and so our door is locked. I could have done it manually, but my dream obeyed me and I get the sense that not only did the door lock, but created an impenetrable seal along the door frame itself.

      Later, my dream begins to lose cohesion as I focus on the illogical thought of where my real body is or what it may be doing. In some lucid dream types I have a concern about where my sleeping body is and what position my head is in, and whether or not a pillow is too close to my mouth or even if I am absentmindedly wandering around in the middle of the street while in my lucid dream.

      I “wake up” into another lucid dream (which is only a continuation of the same dream sequence, though at another level of unconsciousness, closer to waking consciousness), thinking about how real it seems. However, I see that I am back near the Cubitis kitchenette again as in the first part of this sequence. I cannot believe how real it feels, with augmented physicality.

      I decide to go and see my beautiful wife for the second time, ending up at our present address. However, Earl (an older half-brother on my mother’s side who had died in real life in 2007) seems concerned about me when I say how my dream seems so real. I consider that it is “too real” to be a dream, but then I notice that our widescreen television looks different and is sitting on the wrong furniture. Curiously, Earl being alive does not convince me it is a dream. I wonder if he has something interesting or intelligent to say, but he continues to watch television. I see another widescreen television sitting atop a tall narrow bookcase, and curiously, this is what confirms for me that it has to be a dream.

      I decide to be with Zsuzsanna again. This time though, Zsuzsanna and parts of the environment become somewhat transparent, so I decide to let it go and wake.


      Updated 03-07-2018 at 09:03 AM by 1390

      Tags: door
      Categories
      lucid
    2. ~ Jack-o'-lantern Armageddon ~

      by , 10-28-2013 at 01:17 AM
      Morning of October 27, 2013. Sunday



      Scenes from this dream have recurred hundreds of times over the years.

      Beginning - St. Andrew and Caledonia Streets - La Crosse, Wisconsin, USA; walking into the Amtrak station from the sidewalk (for me train stations represent a desire to go into deeper areas of the dream state and/or communicate with either higher entities or orphaned tulpas). I had not been there in real life since February of 1994. There is a life-sized bronze statue of Nike near the area that is not there in reality. It is early evening. The Nike statue has about ten percent of the surface covered with verdigris (for me statues represent powerful spiritual energies which are beginning to surface - as it has the verdigris it likely means I need to focus on more meditation in real life lately to increase mental focus). Nike is the Greek goddess of victory and guardian of my connection to supraconsciousness, as V stands for victory and V is the twenty-second letter of the English alphabet (as well as the bottom half of the heart symbol - also half the Yin/Yang totality).

      I go inside the Amtrak building. It is somewhat different than in reality in that it has a large public bar and an area with a pool table. A couple men of around forty years of age, in bluejeans and work shirts, are playing darts. The dartboard, instead of the bull’s-eye pattern, has the number twenty-two (dark blue on white) covering a fairly high percentage of the dartboard in surface area, yet it has never been hit before as there are no puncture marks from the points of darts on or near the area. There are far more puncture marks on the wall than the dartboard (from real-life - a north wall of my apartment in the King Street mansion was like this from the previous tenant). The men ask me if I want to join in on the next game and I do. They seem somewhat patronizing, apparently viewing me as of less intelligence, and hand me a dart. I casually throw it with my right hand and it hits the center of the dartboard, causing the entire wall to crack open (recurring), simultaneously all the way to the top and bottom, with small blue bolts of static electricity going everywhere outwards from it. Everyone starts running around, as parts of the ceiling are falling in. I am not that concerned, but walk outside as a precaution.

      Hundreds of meteors, some with larger fiery “tails”, are moving across the sky and hitting the ground. The explosions are not that loud or damaging it seems, but are certainly causing chaos for the local residents. The eyes of the Nike statue “do a Jennie Haniver” (usually meaning, personally, a tulpa gaining real life via the thread of a real person it is not yet known to represent - the eyes glowing brightly and flashing briefly) as a man yells “Oh my God” and seems to be killed, falling backwards, by something she is holding, perhaps a dagger or just her touch, as her wings flap over him, creating an unusual metallic “groaning” sound, almost like the distant roar of a lion (from real-life - when I was the only one who recognized a lion’s roar at a fair distance when everyone else was trying to tell me it was the groaning of a bridge in the wind). This scene represents any Western ignorance my mind may be holding as being extinguished.

      I walk to the east (going east, unless it is a specific place you are thinking of going, just as on a number line and the orientation of a compass rose, represents progress or expectation/reception of foresight/precognition as well as “rehearsing” potential future events). The living Nike statue is following me, but I am not alarmed. However, I am not quite sure if I want to face this entity. (Audio replay of “Solid Tin Coyote” from “The Roadrunner Show”, first seen on Saturday, February 17th, 1966 from 12:00 PM).

      I turn my head to look back for the fourth time and see that the Nike statue is now Barbara Steele (just as her “wings” are folding behind her in a flawless static-electricity-like cascade effect) as she appeared many years ago and in the costume that always reminded me of an old-fashioned wedding outfit. (Barbara Steele represents both the totality of sensual energy from my youth as well as, in present symbolism, the real-life unfolding of marrying my tulpa or “dream girl” of unearthly beauty in real life). There are still meteors falling, but not in the immediate area other than when one hits a car, causing it to fill with fire, so that a skeletal hand is then hanging out the driver’s side (representing the elimination of any potential influence of Western or mainstream ignorance - as I am not the driver in control). Eventually, she seems to be holding something out to me, smiling lovingly.

      I tentatively take it from her as she says, “In bocca al lupo…” (“Good luck”, although in this case, “good luck” literally means “in the mouth of the wolf”). I see that it is a large golden key which also looks much like a miniature branding iron (a personal symbol for identifying and then limiting or eliminating any modern Western or mainstream influences or energies).

      I walk back to the Amtrak station and although it is mostly destroyed, there is one section of an outer wall with a large keyhole. Three elderly men are sitting about near the ruins, two carving something, one hammering a small object. They are wearing dingy greenish berets. (Darker green berets represent a tentative but ready mental attitude in moving forward with a goal - due to being on the head, being somewhat round, and from the traffic light symbolism.) “I’m going in,” I tell them. Only one, the nearest, glances at me without emotion and goes back to his work of whittling.

      The keyhole, which is on a short cylindrical base about an inch out from the wall’s surface, matches the construct of the key I have. The recess is shaped like a large letter “S”, with the forward “C” and the reverse “C” in smaller detail within the “S” - representing the English alphabet form of the Yin/Yang gateway or threads between primarily Asian or ancient cultures and English communication at the supraconscious level. I put the key in and it actually glows like a miniature branding iron and sizzles and sparks. I start to turn it ninety degrees to the left (turning to the left represents the act of loosening or revealing something as with real-life screws, lids, and such, as well as reviewing memories or “turning time back”). Within the sizzling sounds, it clicks when it is at the implied nine (leftmost number on a clock). I turn it another ninety degrees (down to an implied six, the bottommost number on a clock) and it clicks again, the six and nine being the numerical construct of the Yin/Yang form. As the cylindrical keyhole pad recedes into the wall, it transforms into the Yin/Yang symbol by way of the hundreds of tiny metal rods adjusting to the geometric form.

      I do not see a door, but the wall itself somehow develops horizontal equidistant recesses and then opens like a jalousie window with all “slats” stopping at ninety degrees. I then see another keyhole I had not noticed before. This one is of two question marks, one facing the other, the question mark being a representation of separation from the supraconsciousness and the separation from the “two”, symbolized by the vertical stem (the mundane mind pulling it down) and the point (isolation from Universal Mind) and aiding in maintaining ignorance at the physical level. I softly rotate (to the left) a torus-shaped dial just below the bow of the key and six small rods emerge from near the middle, somewhat like miniature umbrella ribs in the form of a Star of David with very small bolts of static electricity, and with a barely audible electronic hum, rising to a very subtle higher pitch (around the 9,000 Hz range) the six parts move around the tip of the key, and merge together in one shape, replacing the original implied shoulder stops. The keyhole pattern changes as the key enters, the stem of the question marks each rotate ninety degrees away from the middle with a veneer-like surface receding back and the implied isolated recess actually being a section that slides to the new “stem” each forming the number two (one of them mirrored). The mirrored twos then move more into the wall, receding enough to bring out a hidden plate that is heart-shaped. The heart-shape then glows - and the “slats” of the jalousie-window-like wall start dropping downwards fairly fast until there is an open entrance to walk through.

      There is now something that looks like a small white control panel for a home alarm when I am inside, the brand name embossed as “initium” and another version of the “dartboard” from the earlier scene, but as a functioning keypad. I press my initials on the arc-shaped keys, C…C…L… and the display lights up as 250 (CCL in Roman numerals). The “2” looks like a “Z” in the display, and the “5” looks like an “S”. The 0 spins and forms a Yin/Yang icon and moves to the right (moving to the right, as on a number-line, implies progress or moving into the future). It (the “25” of 250 to “ZS”) forms ZSUZSANNA, my wife’s first name. However, it then displays “KSEAL?” which I take to mean “Sealed with a KISS” or the letter “X” (between Z and C on a normal keyboard) or “St. Andrew’s cross of X” or “Crux decussata” (note the street name above of St. Andrew), but is also the next consonant/next vowel pattern in a localized area supposedly encoded into my name by Nike, (for example the pattern being claude, dmeafi, fniego, gpoihu, hquoja, jrauke, kseali) - a source having said “This unusual abbreviation’s origin (referring to "K”) is unknown; it has also been said to stand for 250". K is the eleventh letter (11 + 11 = 22), as well as being half the symbol (but rotated ninety degrees) of the “heart on a plane” and I ponder whether to press “K” or “X” and decide to just press the center of the keypad, which seems to work as a door opens in front of me and I walk out onto the porch of a house on Avon street I had been to in the distant past. It is “still” nighttime from that point.

      I see a fireball rolling along the ground, but it turns out to be a candle-lit jack-o’-lantern, which somehow sets fire to the grass after falling from the porch wall next-door and apparently causing something else on the porch to fall. “Stupid cats!” someone yells from inside - so I am thinking the meteor shower is over. I see a blur of white and am thinking it is Snowball, a cat from my childhood. It is not a cat, but a white swan that comes to me. I sense another presence. A black (Australian) swan emerges from the darkness and sits on the porch wall at the same time a young version of my wife walks up the porch steps carrying a hollow plastic jack-o’-lantern with a black handle to collect candy in (not wearing a costume but dressed as she was in an older photograph with a red top and yellow shorts). “Oh…hello…” she says timidly (as if seeing me for the first time). I take her lower right arm (whispering “Yin” in gratitude) to guide her away from the front of the porch, as the explosions start up and grow louder again.

      Two obnoxious, meandering drunks walking by, of about twenty years old, yell out “Trick or Treat”, one holding up a can of Budweiser beer and the other saying (to my wife) “Where’s your Costume, Cinderella? Where’s your pumpkin coach, Cinderella?”- but both are hit by fireballs (that ironically turn out to be flaming pumpkins), setting them on fire, causing them to fall and die, screaming and pounding the ground and writhing.

      A car is hit by a fireball and crashes into the corner of the house (from a real-life event when a car crashed into our house, into the porch steps and I thought I had lost my wife but it missed her by possibly a minute as she was walking home from the store - across the street when it happened). We move into the doorway as static electricity starts shooting from our skin. My wife’s hair is standing on end. She starts giggling, trying to pat it down, turning in circles and engaging in some sort of funny little dance. I soon actually see our “pumpkin coach” near the opposite side of the porch from where the car crashed and is still burning, but it is a Romani caravan.

      Barbara Steele is watching the house, halfway between the sidewalk and the porch with her arm extended to indicate we should get into the pumpkin-shaped Romani caravan as soon as possible.

      “Are they all to die?” I say with an unexpected sorrow watching the trails of “jack-o’-lantern meteors” blazing across the sky, crashing everywhere, leaving piles of pumpkin pulp all over the streets and houses (from a real-life event in November of 1993, when I was the maintenance person for a childcare center for WWTC and a very large pumpkin in a Thanksgiving setup had exploded just a few minutes prior to my walking in - the horrid-smelling pulp went all over the main area for a fair distance, even breaking a couple fluorescent lights, and taking a long time to clean up).

      Barbara Steele’s visage is now of a teal-colored skull (but seemingly darker in the shadowy porch environment), lighting up slightly from the inside, and she is pointing to me with her left teal-colored skeletal finger but starting to revert to the Nike statue, now nearing the porch steps and holding a blue flaming sword with her right hand, saying something (with a voice of at least six or seven layers of different pitches, like a chorus) much like…“Essi sono sul filo sfilacciato della vita. Tu sei il punto dell'universo, della sua fonte di vibrazione”. (“They are on the frayed thread of life. You are the point of the universe, its source of vibration”.) (This scene and theme is modeled somewhat after “Tonight the Sky Will Fall” by Daniel F. Galouye from Imagination magazine 1952 where one man/being is all that exists and all else is a dream.)

      We get into the caravan, my wife being very passive and going in first. There are two horses which neigh nervously at the streaks of fire in the sky. There are streaks of light and vibrations and it is airborne into outer space (the outside view going by so fast that it is like cards being flipped - similar to the view from a jet window when taking off in real life), leaving the Earth forever, as we gaze at the Eagle nebula (“Pillars of Creation” area) just outside the small round window…as I wake I try to hold and focus on the pure bliss.

      Updated 06-15-2015 at 02:51 PM by 1390 (Enhancement)

      Categories
      lucid , memorable
    3. Rascals part 2

      by , 10-25-2013 at 04:25 PM
      Morning of October 25, 2013. Friday.



      This lucid “full-body” experience starts by entering a hypnagogic portal (after about three hours of being in “state”). I keep hearing music that I am fairly certain has not been recorded, somewhat like old-school dub reggae, but more modern - the fact that we have the fan on near our bed in real life adds greatly to this state because of the level of white noise and the ambient “masking” effect. It does not seem to be a track I have worked on regarding my real-life work. There are no stronger (involuntary telepathic) vocal pulses by this point except maybe a few meandering “orphan” ones from somewhere in the neighborhood that do not relate to me or my focus (I get far less than I did years ago at any rate - it takes time). It is very hard to sleep without the environmental noises being filtered to at least some extent and it also helps when being in deep state - as if it is “too quiet” - the slightest sound (even a leaf falling outside) causes extreme physical pain (or at least the seeming experience of such), almost like my skin being torn away.

      One of the scenes from the first Rascals dream on here was not included but I will include it here with this entry. When we leave the mansion on King Street and start to walk out to engage in our adventure, I check my head and find I am wearing a baseball cap. This makes me extraordinarily angry and I immediately change it into a darker-colored cowboy hat with a Montana crease before anyone notices my “blunder”.

      This other related dream reminds me very slightly of a few dreams I had many years ago. I was the one in “training” (with my fifth grade class) though (not the fictional Pearl as in this one). I was sort of running and leaping into the air in an attempt to fly but I kept crashing to the ground quite heavily. Over time, I learned that in dreams, at least for me, I can just let myself rise - as if there was no gravity. In many such dreams I had been in a diagonal (or even a standing) position rather than the strictly “Superman-like” way of flying, which I never particularly cared for.

      Meanwhile, prior to the action, there is a part of the Key I want to enhance the workings of. I want to more precisely work out the entropy rate of its potential continuity to get “answers” in a quicker, more viable fashion. In the past, I used dividing sources that were written years ago. I later began to understand it had to be a newer, “present” written source such as a fresh entry on a dream journal (or several different entries for integration) or a recent set of news articles - or the answers would be from “another time” so to speak. I try to do the algorithm in my head which I am sometimes able to do after going over it several times. I know from one source table that the “apex” letter E represents 12.7 percent and bottom value Z represents only point one (0.1) percent. This means that the entropy rate is very high, but not high enough to prevent the answer forming coherently from the so-called Akashic records (although this may not be a good term to use considering all the nonsensical misinformation in the mainstream).

      I am “awakened” (in-dream) by Eddie K, who is apparently teaching Pearl how to use the knowledge of the conscious mind to work at deeper levels of consciousness. I reflect on the irony. Most people in life use their dreams to enhance reality, when people such as myself use reality to enhance dreams! What an intriguing giggle for humanity’s sake! I almost start laughing too hard, which causes me to shift my awareness.

      Pearl is trying to work in a similar manner as I have in the past, using a pure, viable knowledge of phasing and thought interpolation. She has the task of causing two walls to interpolate with polarity reversal so that both walls disappear (as with the construct of identical sound waves with one inverted over the other at the same time and placement) and instead, when the walls come together, they create a new wall in the target location with a perfect checkerboard pattern (instead of completely phasing out) and Eddie keeps laughing.

      Suddenly, unrelated to the scene, there is a breakthrough idea when I catch a bit of thought interpolation between pulses of the dream-related energy. Recently I was going to write about a new trend - regarding why I have been seeing maize flour, yeast, and similar (including the recent dream with the supposed larger cloud of fingerprinting powder and the Etch-a-Sketch-like powder on the floor) in several of my recent dreams. I “catch” a sound pulse forming the term “healing powder” (instead of the phrase “healing power”)! I then suddenly am aware (although I have always known this - but not with this particular transition) of how the mind changes the meaning of affirmations, perhaps through unintended entropy - which dreams do quite often. (For example, when I was much younger - the sound pulse “girls” - without viable photo projection involved - often triggered shorter lucid dreams where squirrels appeared instead - kind of hilarious in a pitiful sort of way.)

      Pearl is “trying to get it”.

      “You need to meditate on ZERO PAIRS and related concepts for a few hours,” says Eddie. I can almost see her mind at work. She is thinking of a positive five and a negative five, and bringing them together (the negative five on her left, the positive five on her right, looking ahead and seeing a big fat “goose-egg” floating in the air).

      “Start with black and white to gray,” says Eddie, “It’s easier. Black to your left, white to your right…now look forward and see gray…” Pearl fades out completely and doesn’t come back. Eddie K rolls his eyes with arms akimbo…“Quiet delight…benchmark…”

      Updated 12-08-2015 at 09:58 AM by 1390

      Categories
      lucid
    4. Lucid Grandview

      by , 10-13-2013 at 03:08 PM
      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…
      Tags: bliss, sand, sphere
      Categories
      lucid
    5. "Driving" a tornado

      by , 10-11-2013 at 07:37 AM
      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).

      Updated 06-30-2015 at 07:39 AM by 1390

      Categories
      lucid
    6. "End of the World" yet again…

      by , 07-07-2013 at 01:07 PM
      Morning of July 7, 2013. Sunday.



      Like many (if not most) people, I have had numerous “end of the world” dreams throughout my life since birth (one of the first ever involving an elephant shooting lava from its trunk). I would not call them all nightmares, though, as they are often filled with good feelings and only minor negative emotions in some parts.

      This dream was much the same in some parts to my wife’s dream - with no “cues” or prior expectations of any kind. This has happened to us many times even before we were married, for about twenty years now, on a regular basis.

      This dream has four main sections (and a few minor ones). In one, the first, there is a big thunderstorm late at night. I seem to be living near the White House (which is to the north about three blocks away), but it seemingly is actually a large observatory (or somehow became one - the basic domed design not changing at all). The lightning is strange and thick in the sky and mostly horizontal between clouds instead of striking the ground and sometimes has an unusual reddish tint. It seems in part to be caused by the Earth going out of orbit. When I go outside, I do notice that what had supposedly been the White House all that time was “now” an astronomical observatory or had for some reason been changed into one for “emergency” purposes. The main large telescope (primarily pointing to my left - to the west - at about a forty-five degree angle at first) seems to be under control by either a supernatural force or by the Earth going out of orbit while being somehow manipulated by very strong magnetic patterns around the region, as it is moving about uncontrollably in a strange way, which eventually causes damage to the building and later on, the entire region - and I become aware that many people near the area are killed by earthquake-like activity. I take note of the many strange clouds moving about, almost like a tornado, but not quite. Soon, though, there are no clouds, which, for some reason, means “the end” (which is rather odd, since I have often seen little or no cloud cover on certain nights - but in this case, they seem to sweep through the sky all at once in an “unnatural” way and vanish). The Earth is out of orbit, and not many days are left for humanity.

      There are also two sections (seemingly between or during the times of the main storms) which also seem to be a different day for the garden one at least. I own or at least “control” a very large amount of land in Australia, acres and acres into the distance. I have this huge area of land divided up into various rectangular plots for thousands of different plants, primarily fruits and vegetables. Some of the ones closest to where I am standing are strawberries, carrots, and celery, but there are also many plots devoted to very rare kinds of mostly edible plants. Each plot somehow has an underground computer keeping each individual garden at its optimum temperature, light, and moisture for the plant to grow as correctly and healthily as possible. (I am not sure how the “light” aspect is monitored, as it mostly seems to be under open blue sky as far as the eye can see.)

      In another part of my dream, my wife and I are going west, to live near the ocean or at least visit the (unknown and unfamiliar) area and enjoy its beauty in a very remote region while there is still time. I look out over the incredibly beautiful ocean’s surface at the many multicolored reflections. After about what seems like ten minutes or so, I mentally try to create a dinosaur-like creature, and a glassy, transparent plesiosaurus head begins to rise and form, but stays crystal-like and slightly translucent and never shows more than its head only - about ten feet away from us. Of all the “chased by dinosaur” dreams I have had in my life, I was somehow aware that I had created them at one level at the beginning foundation of my dream, even though they sometimes got a bit out of control and “too real”. In this dream, though, I seem to be doing it mostly for nostalgic purposes as I know the creature will be friendly, but due to the Earth being out of orbit, the magnetic tulpa energies are chaotic and with no sustainability, even with a six-by-four (or eight-by-six?) matrix with Moore–Penrose pseudoinverse implications. I feel a bit sad though the head does not vanish, but the creature will only exist in a "what if” state until the Earth’s very last hour, having a head only “floating” on the water (or seeming to) and not even a neck or body - or perhaps its body is there and under the ocean’s surface in an invisible form.

      The last section has to do with the final “out of orbit” conditions. I am with an unknown man and feel myself begin to rise in the air, as Earth is losing its gravity, of which I make a verbal note to the man and shout this to some other people as they are also rising up into the air. It is not at all like the common flying or even hovering dreams for me; I am simply floating up with a sense of there really being no gravity in the building and there is also an uncommon sense of weight associated with my movements that I cannot seem to control - I am about halfway up to the high ceiling. The man and I notice a woman of about thirty. She has at least six children of all the same age with her (about six or seven years). At first they all seem to have ice skates on (but remove them) - but then they are all dancing and singing and enjoying the growing loss of gravity (we are all inside some sort of larger building, seemingly a hotel lobby or something but somehow connected to a sports arena and large casino or some such). The man seems very angry and yells at her, regarding the idea of her dancing when “it is the end of the world” as very “wrong”, perhaps even insane. He announces “The 9.8 meter per second squared constant is flying the coop as quickly as we are!” It soon dawns on me that it is the man who is crazy, because why would it matter if you were dancing as it was the end of the world anyway as at least you would “go out” happily in a sense.

      Oddly, though, the women and her children are then back on the ground as if gravity is then normal for them (but they seem mildly dejected), and then they prepare to go shopping and on to living normal lives again, as perhaps the Earth is “back in orbit” after all.
    7. Christmas Tree Attic Fire

      by , 06-06-2013 at 12:06 PM
      Morning of June 6, 2013. Thursday.



      In my dream, we are back living in Brisbane. Our house is different and does not have higher steps, the inside being much like our real place there, but the front porch area being most like the King Street boarding house with the upstairs apartments. Our son Lorenzo is playing with three younger blonde girls, racing around inside and out, who are happily going in and out of our house while being yelled at by a slightly older girl not to be in our house. They are dressed very formally with fancy hairstyles, as if for a formal event for the very wealthy.

      I soon notice that something dramatic is going on next-door; there are a lot of people, for some reason, standing on top of wobbly old wooden step-ladders, watching the action as if at some sort of baseball game at the park. The house next door is on fire, but I do not see any actual flames or smoke. It seems that a Christmas tree had somehow caught fire in their attic. The people with the hose (no firemen around, but a couple policemen in black wandering around not doing anything) are aiming the water up and directly through the small attic window from a fair distance away. I hear a young couple crying loudly and holding their hands together, but there does not seem to be anything to really cry about, as I see no actual damage anywhere at all.

      It seems strange that all these people are just standing up on ladders and balancing on the fence just to look at that house when nothing is really visible, even the supposed fire. I call out sort of absentmindedly to the nearest man standing atop a step-ladder, “Oh, I didn’t even know about this…”, but most of these people seem more amused or entertained than having concern for the owners or tenants, even though it also seems they were there to help at first.

      I become semi-lucid and notice something strange regarding perspective. Their house, on the side nearest to our house, seems to go past my line of sight towards and behind me - to seemingly take up the same space (from my viewpoint near the corner of our house) as our house would otherwise be, an “impossible” perspective, yet somehow at the same time, it also seems to be a completely empty region or undefined area where neither house is.

      This last part with the ladders relates to typical waking metaphors. Someone on a ladder relates to getting closer to waking consciousness, a fire relates to growing conscious awareness, and something going through a window implies leaving the dream state. The water though, indicates a subtle desire to become lucid (though goes through the window instead, similar to the “water getting lower over time” waking metaphor).
    8. A Lucid Dream of a White Car (Driven From Inside Our House)

      by , 05-20-2013 at 11:20 AM
      Early afternoon of May 20, 2013. Monday.



      In my very clear lucid dream, I walk around in our house (which is much larger in my dream) wondering what is going on. I start to get into the habit of touching my face and mouth regularly in my dream to check if I am breathing properly in real life. This is because, at the time, I remember that I am sleeping with a pillow over the side of my head but there is plenty of room to breathe.

      I walk around until I notice that our back hallway is so much larger than in real life, I feel amazed. It is so large that there is now a shiny white car in mint condition, possibly a 1980s Ferrari Testarossa, parked between the bathroom and storage cupboards facing north to where I am standing in the larger than real life kitchen area.

      Being fully lucid, but with too many ideas on how I can utilize my lucidity, I walk to the car and start tapping it on the top and front and it makes a sound just like someone slapping the side of a washing machine, with a slightly hollow effect. This makes me happy, as I start lucidly feeling all the cool areas of the outside of the car. I am able to open the unusual car door (though on the second attempt). Curiously, I am actually able to fit inside the car comfortably after being able to get in. (As I have documented before, cars are often too small to get inside of in my dreams.)

      I move my feet over the floor of the car, not really touching anything with my feet, and I turn a key to hear a soft sort of engine sound. Suddenly, I take off very fast, north, right through our house. It does not matter at all because I am dreaming. There are no obstacles; I just drive through as if nothing was there to slow or block the car.

      I eventually drive near a cliff, but then the car is vertically upright, facing downwards, hovering high in midair, and I am looking down at about dozen people on a rocky beach near the ocean. A few people look up at me. I start thinking about all the things I could do in my dream, but I am also thinking that I had been asleep long enough and decide to wake up.


      Updated 02-09-2017 at 04:54 AM by 1390

      Categories
      lucid
    9. Hydra-Window

      by , 01-13-2008 at 07:13 AM
      Morning of January 13, 2008. Sunday.



      This dream occurred (past midnight from January 12) after having fallen asleep while sitting in a chair on our porch, though it is slightly longer than the typical mircodream.



      My dream involves looking into a dark void or featureless area in a mostly unlit space (not necessarily outer space as it does not otherwise seem that expansive). I focus on a floating window, perceived as being on the opposite side of an unseen or undefined room. Atop the window, on the wooden frame, each snake having grown out of the window frame and still connected to it from about half its body length, are nine snake-like “necks” with heads, otherwise realistically rendered in their detail. They move about randomly (mostly remaining vertically oriented). I do not feel threatened or alarmed; only puzzled and curious (especially as I am viably lucid and watching it as I would a three-dimensional television, thus I could not hold any fear or sense of threat anyway). Besides, my physicality is not defined as being within the same space as this window. Even though there is no apparent light source, the surreal imagery is well-defined. The window has nine panes (three by three).



      This is only odd composite waking symbolism to alert me to the fact that I had fallen asleep in my chair. The implied void simply represents my lack of discernment of my real physical body. A snake is the primary (and oldest) waking trigger of RAS (reticular activating system). A window also often represents the waking point of the dream state (while a breaking window symbolizes the cessation of the illusion of the dream state, and although this window does not break, it does move back into the distance with no perception of me moving). In this case, it is more as if I am looking into the dream state than from within it (an aspect of which people who believe in “dream interpretation”, in the inexperienced pop culture sense, either miss or completely ignore despite the fundamental difference).

      The reason why there are nine snakes matching nine window panes may only be a factor of multiplicity as relating to expansion of neural energies in the waking stage (though number nine does have a personal meaning for me).

      The probable reason why the snakes are perceived as growing out of the top of the window frame (rather than for example, snakes near a window in a more natural scene) can just come down to the coalescence factor of waking symbolism.



      Please note that a snake may sometimes have other meanings than just the RAS trigger as a waking alert. It depends on the dream and how the snake is rendered. Some common additional meanings are intestinal issues, frayed electrical cord hazard, umbilical cord (as in wishing to be free of a parent), an arm in a problematic position while sleeping, and so on.


      Updated 01-24-2018 at 06:12 AM by 1390

      Tags: snakes, window
      Categories
      lucid , nightmare
    10. Flying Against the Wind

      by , 09-25-2007 at 03:25 PM
      Morning September 25, 2007. Tuesday.



      In the first part of my dream, I fly around, but sometimes in a sitting position or even sideways (as if on my side), or “swimming” very slowly in midair. I talk with an unknown woman at a bus stop as I hover in one area, but I am not sure of the overall meaning of anything she is saying, yet I pretend to understand, because she looks as if she would go from cheerful to very sad if I did not understand her. It may be something about a party, a couple names, and things I would probably not know unless I was an actual friend of hers. I get the strong impression that she is dreaming, so I figure she will wake from “her” dream when I come back from wherever it is I am going.

      I meet a (unknown) man who asks me where he is. At this point, it is some sort of business building with mostly featureless long halls. I casually explain to him that he is dreaming and show him around, and also show him some tricks one can do in the dream state. I say how you can even fly in dreams. We get to the front part of the building, but he goes off to find someone to ask for street directions instead of believing my claim that he is dreaming.

      When I fly back the other way, there is a fairly strong wind. I still manage to get through it by taking different positions (and at one point I am literally sitting in midair waiting for the wind to change slightly) and when I change my position so that I am standing but leaning a bit forward (still in midair), I start musically vocalizing Wagner’s “Ride of the Valkyries” (with “da” intonations) in a semi-sarcastic way to the people that are walking and at bus stops.

      The unknown female is still waiting at the bus stop and says hello to me again. Later on, I am at my sister Marilyn’s house in the United States. Someone puts several both small and large envelopes through the mail slot (on the porch). The name on the envelopes (all the same) is not one I am familiar with. It is seemingly a girl’s name I do not recall. Just a little later, there are two shadows at the door. I am thinking that they are either police detectives or underground gangsters, which seems to be the same concept in-dream. I am thinking they are here to claim the envelopes (some of which seemed thicker) even though I was thinking of seeing what was in them.

      They turn out to be a landlord from years back (in Australia), and oddly, Forrest Tucker (who died in 1986), in his persona from the original “Ghost Busters” television show from the 1970s. They are both dressed exactly the same, in 1940s gangster-style suits, but with extra-tall hats. The landlord (who lost his property to the bank to some sort of apparently legal “funny business” against him) asks if I still have the key to one of his properties. I do (false memory) and go and get it for him. Forrest adds to the concern by telling me to hurry, as it seems the landlord must go in and get something that belongs to him before the new owners get back (in real life, he had lost all he owned that was at the property as well).

      After that, there is something about drinking a bottle of whiskey with my wife Zsuzsanna. I find a bottle of whiskey and a couple other types of drinks in the house. (Neither of us ever bought alcohol in our life other than me buying shots of brandy at a tavern once a week when I lived in America when cashing my paychecks at the Red Lantern for less than a year.) I pretend to be drunk, somewhat similar to the style Foster Brooks (note “Foster” and “Forrest” have the same letters), but not as extreme. I actually seemed to have gotten the bottles from Foster Brooks in some sort of birthday celebration, which is not for a couple months yet. I do not contemplate the obvious confusion of Forrest Tucker with Foster Brooks until after I am awake.



      Looking up information on Foster Brooks, I see that he died on the twentieth of December, which is my birthday - something I do not remember focusing on before at any time.


      Updated 03-14-2017 at 04:09 PM by 1390

      Categories
      lucid
    11. The Best Place (In the woods)

      by , 06-16-2007 at 12:16 PM
      Morning of June 16, 2007. Saturday.



      I have had variations of this dream setting most of my life. I first started calling it the “Enchanted Forest” in 1968 (at age seven), after the Harvey comic book location (for example as with “Casper the Friendly Ghost”) which likely influenced it.

      There is a place that you can get to by way of a certain older dirt road (sometimes a rut road), and often part of the road is slightly muddy and overgrown so that many people do not know it is there even though it only takes moving a bush or tall grasses aside.

      This place that is seemingly only in my dreams is fairly large (I am sometimes able to estimate the distance from how far it goes before coming out near a highway on the other side, though coming out of the area before my dream ends does not often occur). There are some turns; I would say about four main changes before you get to the “best” areas in the apparent middle. I often show two or more people (often friends or former classmates) where it is and feel a great joy at going in to show them around and we usually go in at about a twenty-two degree angle (about half of the standard vertical diagonal of forty-five degrees) and I am not certain, but we always seem to be going in from the west with a particular seemingly familiar area of entry.

      There are usually areas that are so “hidden” (from other parts of the nearby path), that such a thing would not be possible in real life, especially near a main road. There is also sometimes an idea of animals around that cannot be found anywhere else; often certain types of bears, wolves, or wild boars, but with no stronger fear factor involved; just the knowledge of what direction to go from that point if becoming aware of one.

      Most of the time, the secret forest seems to reflect the same mood as always or fictional “memories”, and it seems that I had been the only one to know about the area for a long time. It is so clear, it is sometimes possible to make a general map of the area (though it would not be exact, as sometimes, it seems to change slightly, often relative to slight flooding or more plant growth in different versions). The area usually also reflects an amazing feeling of appreciation which is hard to explain.

      There are only a couple of other places (both fictional) that I have dreamt about (about half as often) many times; an area in an unknown city near a certain set of streets where there are also train tracks, and some sort of eerie area in a bigger city which often has a hint of potential danger of some kind of large rat (which also always has the same mood but more eerie than the others).

      This time, near the ending point of my dream, after we are back in town, I am somewhat lucid. At least, lucid enough to think to myself of the phrase “this dream seems so real, I can make out the reflections in water moisture on the bark of the trees” (which I can). I am amazed at the details of the buildings and the plants, and take it all in. Some of the homes on a particular street look amazing, with beautiful ornate details.

      After a little while, my dream becomes less vivid as I am waking. I notice that one of the people who had apparently been with me is a young girl, but is not really a girl at all; more like some sort of walking plant with no actual human characteristics. The “arms” and “legs” seem to be made out of corn-silk and there is no actual head (or even “body” so to speak); just a cluster of wheat or corn husk or some such. I find it quite odd, yet the other people I am with seem normal, but I do not say anything. It actually seems like some sort of “familiar” entity and faithful “friend” but I do not recall seeing “her” at any previous time in any dream, at least not in this particular unusual form.

      Updated 09-29-2015 at 10:25 AM by 1390

      Categories
      lucid , memorable
    12. Effeminate man insults me (based on age?)

      by , 03-05-2007 at 04:16 PM
      Morning of March 5, 2007. Monday.



      This entry has been painstakingly edited back to its original form, date, and full personal detail. The original title was “The Safe House (TV Show?)”.

      The first part of my dream relates to some sort of fictional so-called reality show (apparently similar to “Big Brother” which I have never watched) called “The Safe House” - where random arguments are filmed on the streets. The concept involves giving people an opportunity to be “safe” by coming to the house to get away from any sort of trouble. There is one scene (on a television screen) where random things go flying across the camera’s view, including an empty baby stroller - and there is an extraordinarily loud level of screaming and pots and pans rattling and flying across the camera view along with other objects, almost like a cartoon-like cacophony. It is all the result of a young Jamaican woman (she has about three children) having a fight with her American husband near a busy street. Apparently, he keeps doing the opposite of what she wants (when she has to go shopping and such) going in a different direction and so on. I mostly only hear the fight and not actually see much, other than the objects being thrown into the street followed by lots of clattering noises. I keep thinking that one of them will probably come to the safe house (where I seem to be), but this does not occur.

      There is a later point near dusk when an Archie Bunker lookalike yells out the window and someone yells back at him.

      There is then a gangster looking for someone and he wants to check the safe house, seemingly with the likelihood that the other person or persons will be shot or captured. They do not find anyone, though. (Actually, it seems that they just walk around outside without coming in.)

      Other events unfold; nothing significant. I decide to check up on the people who have come into my “safe house” and find no one (though I believe my family is home).

      Later, it is nighttime and the “reality show” is seemingly over (or in a different “mode”). I go to my front porch and notice two males seemingly about to visit us. They are standing near the steps but had not yet come to the front door. They appear to be hesitant about the nature of our house as if it does not meet with their approval. I am semi-lucid but not sure how to react. I wait for something to happen for the most part. I notice a few shooting stars in the distance. I am aware that parts of the rain gutter are a bit rusty, with a couple pieces even flaking off. It mostly appears to be the house from Stadcor Street, though with features from more recent places we have lived.

      A somewhat wealthy-looking effeminate male (about thirty) and another man (who is a bit taller and on his right) are standing outside near the front windows. The taller man seems hesitant to come in even though he seems to really want to get away from his partner. It seems that he cannot meet or openly talk to anyone else because of this man because of some “automatic criticism” he implements all the time. He wants to get rid of him so that he can go to some sort of party on his own.

      I ask a few questions (cannot remember exactly what they were) and the shorter male seems to get more annoyed with each question, although I try rewording them. I do not like his snobby attitude, but I do not want to annoy him either (something to do with the ratings of the show). They remind me somewhat of the landlords we had in Brisbane who were in a relationship and were also counselors for male couples in the region but one signed away the house behind the other’s back. We were told we would have to move, so we packed up, then unpacked later when the other claimed the house had not been sold, but then had to pack up again when we found out it had been sold, so they were not honest with each other about the property.

      He starts complaining about hurting his feet because the front stairs have some sort of hard metal supporting them below the bottom step. He looks at me as if he is very annoyed with my general appearance (especially my hair) as well as the house (yet also seems to be commenting on the state of the roof of our house) and in an insulting snobbish manner (yet with a dramatic pause), says “You have fondue rust." The other male says nothing. (For some reason, I have an in-dream faux memory of "fondue” being spelled as “fondage”.)

      I can understand “rust” relating to the Echo and the Bunnymen song (which I listened to quite often during this time - it even has a line about the shooting stars), but the phrase itself seems enigmatic. Perhaps he is commenting also on the portable stove on the porch (which is also a bit old and rusty in my dream), which is unsuitable for a get-together or community party. However, it actually seems that this “fondue rust” is a bit of rust on the safe house (on the roof and outside walls) which sticks to people more than regular rust and is hard to get off. He says this to me with strong disbelief - that he cannot understand why anyone would be in a house that has this problem. It still also seems to mean dandruff at one level.

      I start making a joke out of some other things he says with an “I cannot believe you are serious” attitude, saying that this is too ridiculous to be of much use to my life, and that it sounds like some sort of bad comedy script, and I start laughing, and at that moment, I hear the laughter of a large number of people who had apparently been standing around watching the “show” (who just seemed to appear out of nowhere when I made the statement). It seemed rather intense, eerie, and yet nice, to hear myself laugh, then all of a sudden, the laughter of many others immediately manifesting. I grow more and more lucid, but there is an unusual sense of time slowing down.

      As I wake up, I hear part of the theme song of the show, which sounds like a sort of chorus-like yodel (with an almost dwarfish vocal sound), with the melody as follows (assuming C starts as 1 and continues on the white keys):

      2, 2, 2, 7, 6…1, 1, 1, 6, 5

      The 2nd note in each phrase is slightly faster, giving it a bouncy feel, and the last note in each phrase slightly longer. (I may update this with sheet music format later.)

      Song link: http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/echot...ymen/rust.html

      Updated 06-15-2015 at 04:39 PM by 1390 (Enhancement)

      Categories
      lucid
    13. Pegasus Chariot and Candy Cane Canopy

      by , 04-09-2006 at 10:09 AM
      Morning of April 9, 2006. Sunday.



      How wrong can a partly scripted and incubated lucid dream go of indulging in lovemaking while in a flying chariot (pulled by bronze winged horses) above an endlessly continuing large city? Well…guess. Try it, and you will probably see what I mean.

      My wife Zsuzsanna as Vulnavia and I are in a partly undefined area. This area of course starts out as the bed in light sleep paralysis but has motion and movement over time into a cityscape. Regardless of the recent romance in reality (which automatically triggers this form of light sleep paralysis and blissful lucid dreaming in the first place), that only makes my dream’s essence more soothing and “realistic”. Well…make that in some ways.

      I look ahead at the “realistic” rendering. At times, other than the regular team, I see a few stray horses at quite a distance ahead, yet somehow I know they are still pulling our chariot (which I seem to know has the Roman numeral for six on the side; VI). (For some reason, this scene of a horse being way ahead of our vehicle yet still guiding it somehow, has occurred a few times though in different context. Added August 11, 2015; for example “A stolen candy bar wrapper and a girl with golden skin” from May 15, 2014, which also ended with a play on “golden calves” and as with that later dream, I am concerned about “how we will make the corner properly” at one point, though relating to the tops of buildings in this case.)

      There is a strange physical awareness that the chariot cannot maintain horizontal orientation, though that is more of a benefit in this scenario than a distraction. There are transitions in setting between bed and chariot, a bit like typical in-dream environmental bilocation. Mouths press together sensually and at times, there is a sense of slight vertigo at being so high in the sky. I have to check the horses now and then to make sure they know where they are going. A large flock of birds disrupts our otherwise smooth flight and wild lovemaking at one point. Well, I suppose that was almost a certainty.

      After a time, in getting closer to clock towers and whatnot, I accidentally perceive the notion of supposedly linear time and how to “properly” perceive time. Of course, in dreams, that can be an attention-altering mistake.

      We are still having fun. “Oh what fun it is to ride in a one-horse open sleigh.”

      (Who said that?)

      Of course, a chariot and a sleigh are two completely different things (try telling your dream-self that). Unfortunately, the power and speed of self-as-dream-maker thought simply does not care. Thought does not wait to check itself for logic or run self-diagnostics (other than in apex lucidity I suppose, but this is a level down from there).

      Thus we are now making love in a bed on a raised platform under a candy cane canopy in a Christmas display (in April, yet) - Gimbels I think (though not extant in reality). I am concerned about visitors though there is only one male who vaguely reminds me of Phil Silvers, but I know many more people are going to be coming in soon. My wife is up and out and in Vulnavia’s white fur outfit.

      “Have you seen Santa?” he asks. Oh, how stupid. I have to remain under the sheets, completely undressed, as I cover my head as much as possible. I feel him tugging on the sheet near my feet and lower legs. It is very clear. “Santa? Santa? Come out of there Santa.” I need to teleport back to our “real” bed and I do. (Apparently, Zsuzsanna had been lightly caressing my leg with her foot in reality in her half-sleep.)

      Update August 11, 2015. I just realized that “Phil Silvers” is possibly a play on “Feel Shivers”.
    14. Vehicular Diversity

      by , 03-01-2002 at 09:01 AM
      Morning of March 1, 2002. Friday.

      Dream #: 12,856-02. Reading time (optimized): 1 min.



      The usual water induction is eventually stable as an irregular pool in an outdoor area near a forest. One side has a rickety wooden fence, the other a solid wall. A staircase goes up to the wall where there is no door. Naiads, modeled after Zsuzsanna, play in the water.

      The scene changes into an automobile assembly line in an unknown factory. Over time, vestibular system correlation takes many unusual forms as different distortions involving cars, trucks, and vans. There is a truck with its left side ambiguously merged into a wall. Over vehicles are overgrown with vines. There is a futuristic car of an aerodynamic but unrealistic design. (The angles seem too extreme.) A firetruck is on what is similar to the base of a statue.

      The scene changes into an automobile assembly line in an unknown factory. Over time, vestibular system correlation takes many unusual forms as different distortions involving cars, trucks, and vans. There is a truck with its left side ambiguously merged into a wall. Other vehicles are overgrown with vines. There is a futuristic car of an aerodynamic but unrealistic design. (The angles seem too extreme.) A firetruck is on what is similar to the base of a statue.

      Eventually, the preconscious simulacrum shows up in dark glasses with a spy essence. There is a bell he may be ringing soon. I anticipate this but move into the waking transition on my own.



      Vehicles (other than literal tie-ins) often represent the imaginary physical body in dreaming but can correlate with the real body depending on the state. (For example, a broken car door may be prescient of a lame arm, or a melting tire relevant to a burnt or injured foot.)

      The dark glasses are a supraliminal awareness of my closed eyes in sleep. The bell is the waking alert factor (potential cortical arousal). The firetruck also represents co-occurrence with cortical arousal, which is why it is on an elevated base in this case.


      Updated 09-13-2019 at 01:20 PM by 1390

      Categories
      lucid
    15. The Three Christmas Tortoises

      by , 12-25-1999 at 06:25 PM
      Morning of December 25, 1999. Saturday.

      Reading time: 1 min 9 sec. Readability score: 55.



      In a semi-lucid state, I allow myself to move into a desert landscape, with a focus on Christmas. I allow myself to correlate with my dream self’s illusory physicality. Zsuzsanna walks ahead of me, to my left (our sleeping orientation). A star also shines in the evening sky, representing the essence of my conscious self identity that is still extant in sleep.

      I contemplate the story of the three wise men. However, only a couple of camels appear later. The Christmas story is skewed, and we are trekking to the Roman Coliseum instead of the traditional Nativity scene. I do not attempt to fix the reactive representations of my vague thoughts.

      Three tortoises are slowly crawling on their journey. I consider this is an interesting story but then decide it does not make much sense. I contemplate how the tortoises may have appeared to represent my slower biological processes as I sleep.

      They reach the Roman Coliseum. One of the tortoises lifts their head to study the height of the Roman Coliseum, and a question mark appears above its head. (The curious impossibility of a question mark suddenly floating above a character’s head, as if in a comic strip, has occurred in previous dreams. I call this the contemplation of the liminal space enigma, which is autosymbolism for the dream self questioning its separation from the waking life identity. It occurs in many other forms, such as jigsaw puzzle pieces near a doorway or the presence of spies or detectives as preconscious or emerging consciousness avatars.)

      I walk around a wall and vaguely discern the Nativity scene as I wake. (Walking around a wall was a more common factor in the waking process when I was very young.)


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