lucid

Morning of November 20, 2013. Wednesday.



Once again, I am back in my childhood home in Cubitis in the large front yard. It seems to be just before dawn. This is a little like my recurring dreams where I watch inexplicable events in the sky at dawn with a feeling of nostalgia and bliss. I am semi-lucid, but my dream only becomes more vivid in the last segment.

Some of the presumed alien spaceships I see overhead are v-shaped. A few others are different. I even see an X-wing fighter as in “Star Wars”. Some classmates are walking about in the area. We are all much younger.

After a short time, I notice a weird blue somewhat spherical creature running around in circles in the yard. I am not sure if it came from one of the spaceships. It is only about waist-high. It is apparently a dangerous alien (by the seeming mood implied by the others), but then I see it is actually one of the Freakies from the old Freakies Cereal (which I had not seen in about thirty years or more though I had collected all seven plastic figures with several duplicates). It is the blue one, Snorkledorf, which looks like male genitalia with legs. Before I realize it is a Freaky though, I do go after it to protect the others from a possible alien attack. I sort of grab it and press down on its head and discover that it is much like a balloon (reminding me of those old child-sized upright dinosaur balloons my parents and relatives got from gas stations, I think either as a giveaway or from trading stamps, which could be used as punching bags).

As in many other dreams where I have chased monsters around, there is no fear or concern, just a sense of curiosity or mild frustration if it is not caught. I hold my body weight down over his head and try not to hurt him, eventually worrying that the pressure might kill him and I do not want to become infamous for killing the Freaky Snorkledorf.

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In afterthought, this may be an association with my childhood “pachydermophobia” rendered now as a playful game as an adult as elephants are obviously no longer a “threat” (though it may also be a play on exaggerated sexuality). It is interesting how dreams can feature mostly forgotten television commercials (and the small related toys) from over thirty years ago.

The “dream journal synchronicity” tag has been added due to another poster having a very similar dream (regarding the dream journal site only).

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Morning of November 18, 2013. Monday.



I am within a lucid dream but I do not get the impression that it is anywhere familiar. I am outside in a larger city and perhaps floating “two-people high” from the sidewalk, my attention somewhat upwards at a slight angle. There is a boy filming some sort of amateur documentary from his single bedroom window, from I believe the fourth floor of a large, tall, old-brick apartment building. He seems mournful after a time, his rather large video camera mounted on a tripod about a foot from the window (which is only open by about one-fifth). He has the camera aimed at the street, near an intersection. There are stores in the area, including a larger shopping mall (with a large parking lot) kitty-corner from the building. Suddenly, I hear him cry out, “Are we all just ignorant?” in a somewhat frustrating way but with a tone of sadness. I see no people walking on the streets, but there are a few cars that go by.

Simultaneously as I hear him yell the phrase, he is instantly sitting on the ledge (with the window now open) in pajamas with a blanket around him with no sign of the video camera in the room behind him - although I get an impression he is now holding a small Kodak Instamatic camera. For less than a second, I think he might be ready to fall forward and off the ledge to his death (although there is no feeling that he may be suicidal) with a vague and quickly passing moment of panic (although I have no idea who he is). There is a strange “glittering” in my dream (recurring) that I cannot quite describe, a vivid feeling of all molecules shifting (or somehow turning inside-out or flipping topsy-turvey) everywhere in the universe or within the construct of my perception.

After time passes, I experience the “twinkling” again (like thousands of miniature “black holes” flipping over to “expose” a higher dimension - somewhat like countless diamonds spinning on the horizontal access) - it is everywhere within the city and alters my physical awareness, mood, and perception. It has something to do with a higher dimension being visible or “pictured” in example form within this dimension, the reversal of representing a three-dimensional (Necker) cube on a sheet of paper with lines and implied planes or drawing a two-dimensional line within one plane.

Some sort of inter-dimensional “radio-tower” is responsible. The “twinkling” is not actually twinkling but some sort of event that can be described with a more complex understanding of “Hilbert Space” and spherical harmonics. Of this higher dimension, the construct is of some sort of quantum cylinders (representing the “atoms” of that domain) with a third quantum polarity (in addition to positive and negative) which means that magnetism or even gravity must work in a completely different fashion (however, neutrons ARE of neutral charge after all - an addition to the binary concept of positive and negative, but not viable in the “perfect” digital world where every bit has to be either on or off or one or zero). The “cylinders” (which are not actually cylinders - they only look as such in this dimension as it would be impossible to visualize them clearly in a human perspective) work as the “atoms” of that dimension whereby there are TWO “complimentary” nuclei that converge and separate along an internal section (relative to the implied radius of the “cylinder”) of what would look like a linear course but actually integrates with two additional orbiting “electron constructs” (but are not electrons) in a seeming (but illusory from this dimension’s viewpoint) X-shaped rotating and revolving “orbit” (meaning that the orbit itself goes “around” in an additional orbit of its own - “rotating” of course meaning on its own axis and “revolving” meaning going around another source - many uneducated people get these terms confused). This is as hard to visualize as trying to draw a square using only separate dots and focusing only on the dots themselves rather than the implied square - whereby you would then be showing a two-dimensional construct using variations of only one dimension or one repeated - displaying in the form of the two-dimensional image, which would imply a “theoretical multiverse” or meta-universe (theoretical ONLY within that one-dimensional existence but actual fact in the higher third-dimension).

There is a (fictional) book on quantum geometry dynamics (with inter-dimensional phasing that reminds me of polarity differentiation in digitized sound waves, whereby the sound goes from “ghosting” frequencies to absolute silence with exact positive and negative polarity layering of the same sound source over itself, rather than gaining or doubling volume as the “average” person would likely believe and likely refuse to believe the truth about unless directly shown in a DAW session) with information on specialized integrated “radio towers” (or what look like radio towers).

I almost understand it. It seems to explain many facets of seemingly paranormal events in the physical world. The “higher selves” of human beings are, in analogy, to this limited physical world “represented” in the same way as we in the physical world here are associated to a flat drawing of a (Necker) cube on a piece of paper, yet we can still see the “cube” as a cube even though it is only represented by lines and planes - however, the presentation being potentially ILLUSORY or misleading (which is very important) - due to the fact that the cube may seem to invert or flip, appearing completely differently to different people at the same time - or perceptually becoming a “hollow” rather than a projection, similar to the inverted mask effect with tulpa sessions (especially when rotating on the vertical axis), whereby the image seems to become seen from inside the mask (hollow-like) rather than from the outside look of it (often to the point where a person cannot tell the difference or can even will it to appear as they want by mental focus alone) - also similar to how “emboss” and “engrave” represent implied dimensional reversals in graphics programs such as PolyView. The fictional book which is a play on “Radio Towers” (but I am not certain of the name) is by a (assumed fictional) name that is so clear that I am able to immediately jerk myself out of my dream state and write it “automatically” (as I was lying in a way where I could reach pen and paper easily). The name turns out to be: “Won Kim Po Hep”.

Looking at it consciously, it almost looks like the second two words could be a play on “Poor help”, but in my dream it is supposedly a complete name. It could possibly be my dream being sarcastic in “saying” that “Won Kim is not much help” regarding incomplete or possibly even fringe science.

The strange energies I felt in my dream carried over into waking life and I still feel them slightly (it is a very pleasant body-wide sensation), with a very subtle sound-shifting (from a nearly inaudible buzzing to more of a white-noise effect) - which I think is mostly only due to how certain muscles are either tensed or relaxed as this has always been the case with me physically. Turning my head to either fully left or fully right and flexing my neck muscles a little bit immediately causes me to hear loud high-frequency ringing in either ear (the ear of the direction I turn to). I assume that is normal for most people as I did not question it even when little (but my hearing was tested as being unusually better than average when I was young - even had to do the test a couple more times as they did not seem to believe the results - my wife had the exact same experience, so I guess it happens a lot - it is simply when you wear headphones and raise your hand when you hear a particular tone). This was likely also related to how I was sleeping, as the tension and relaxation levels of all muscles in the body always seems to change the background “white noise” frequencies in my hearing (even moving and tensing my feet and toes).

Important Wikipedia LINKS for the curious:

Necker Cube

Hilbert Space

Spherical harmonics

Quantum geometry (general)

Night of November 11, 2013. Monday.



I am wandering around on a fully-stabilized plane, having moved into the first manifestation that formed, becoming integrated into the new environment to more closely examine the domain. I soon notice it is mostly old boards, somewhat scattered at different angles, lying about on the mostly bare ground everywhere as far as the eye can see, although my vision is mostly oriented towards the ground, not to the horizon. Many of the old boards appear to be partially covering holes of various depths, but I never look down directly into them, and there is no concern at all about falling into one. Most boards are brown, with a gray one here and there. Many of the boards are of similar lengths, about arm-length or longer. I mentally will them to move about along the ground to see a slight glow coming from some of the holes. With subtle thoughts now and then, I mentally will the loose dirt to fly away from particular areas. The soil and particulates are not so loose as to bother my breathing, though, and it seems that the area is not as old as it would logically seem. At the time, I do not perceive that they are related to any type of closed mine, and there are no buildings or land features anywhere. I reach the highest state possible into pure vividness, looking around. No one else is around anywhere. At times, a gentle breeze also blows a bit of the loose soil about. There is a slight essence of yellow above other earthly colors. At one point, I do get a very vague impression that I am in the future and looking at the remains of the house we are presently living in. However, there would be additional features if this were actually the case unless the other materials were removed, leaving only the wooden pieces.

I do not presently or immediately recall having been on this plane before. I mostly only focus on the local regions of where I am and do not move that far beyond. The only association I seem to make in afterthought is that perhaps (and it is only perhaps) someone had fallen down a well or a mineshaft somewhere and needs my help. However, that is only one lesser association. There did not appear to be any negative energy on the particular plane, and I found it very attractive and interesting.

Morning of November 11, 2013. Monday.



This fairly long dream is of a nature I experience very frequently. I enter a fully lucid state and decide I will visit a relative in the USA, in this case the only living sister on my mother’s side (Marilyn). I will do this with a continuous combination of teleporting and flying (from my present home in Queensland, Australia). I fly over the ocean enjoying the feelings of the wind on my face and the sound of the waves. It is very clear and beautiful. Later on, after what seems about fifteen minutes or more, I notice an area with Spanish moss and cypress trees, making it seem as if I am now over a river, possibly in Florida.

Eventually, continuing to fly over water, and in several cases teleporting a fair distance ahead, I see a building which I recognize to be in La Crosse, Wisconsin after having an awareness of having moved over the Black River for a considerable distance. I land near the building and then continue, walking, in a northeasterly direction. Much of the area is very different but I am still somewhat familiar with where I should go. (The Rose Street area where I used to live and walk a few blocks to school, although the school is still there, has been built up and industrialized considerably, almost beyond recognition.)

In one area, there is a group of young violent males with knives, near what is like a larger culvert and an area that reflects a lower level of urban decay. I tell them that I am not actually there (physically) but in my dream form, so they can just go on with whatever they are doing. Only one of them seems somewhat threatening. I reach into my right pants pocket to find a large, already-open switchblade and throw it with the blade end as it goes perfectly into the other person’s sternum and he is fallen/easily defeated. I walk on, continuing northeast and notice that a new switchblade has materialized in the same pocket in the same way as if there is an endless supply.

I eventually end up at my sister’s house. She is much older and there is a mention by her of how she smelled Guinea pigs and cigarette smoke upon my arrival. This makes no sense, as she was a heavy smoker in the family (not quite as much as her husband, though) but has apparently quit as of several years ago. She seems slightly tired and ill (as she often was in real life over the years - she is still alive as of this writing). (In real life, we do have two Guinea pigs though they are mostly only handled by the children.)

I mention how my next-youngest son Lorenzo is a regular character on a (fictional) television western series on Monday nights, wanting to know if she had seen it. In fact, for some unknown reason, some scenes are then suddenly being shot at the location I am in presently, though I wonder how they will integrate the scenes filmed inside the house into the actual show to reflect the show’s intended background environment - perhaps the commonly used green-screen compositing or chroma key compositing. I am happy that Lorenzo is there for my sister to finally see him in “real life” (although it is a dream).

A little later, we (my wife and a couple others) seem to have a setup there. There is one point where my brother J’s cheerful spirit walks in through the front porch out of a radiant white light and to an additional room to the south where we engage in conversation for quite some time (although I do not remember much of it). For a short time after he leaves, I think about going onto the porch to look more closely (through the implied portal) at what is beyond but decide not to. The house is not anything like the one I last saw my sister living at (I am not at all familiar with the one she lives in now in real life). In the background is still a feeling of awe and contemplation based on the discovery of how a childhood dream seemed to involve actual time travel over many years - the “Patches” one, where I actually saw (without the slightest clue it could ever be as such, especially as two areas of the wall had to be sealed up and the middle window replaced by the smaller twelve-paned one) that area of the house as it would be in the distant future in a real-life event. It feels very familiar and deeply personal to me now (I actually thought I would not experience anymore newer childhood-based paranormal connections or new unfolding of such) as if it has something to do with having access to eternity when in certain dream states, made more such by the three bats being a symbol of messages from the future (or “eternity”) as well. This has taught me that many childhood dreams I have not fully resolved (precognitive-wise, as all dreams seem to have very literal and precise precognitive features at one point or another) could still have repercussions on the now and the (even distant from here) future. I think this is related to what brother Jim was saying to me. He seems to be in the same form of when I knew him as a boy, but less overweight.

In the last section of my dream, we seem to have a setup for a cheap, quick, and “lowest common denominator” form of public entertainment (with only one slightly askew TV camera on the porch thus far) involving one of those so-called talent or idol shows which I have never watched any of fully. In this case, it is also a type of a hidden camera show involving a practical joke (although by the implied studio rather than a friend), where a person with no acting, writing, or other ability is filmed in a way similar to “The Truman Show”. The young man is possibly from the group of the people with knives and is told he will be famous and in several movie rolls (as a gag, to be part of some silly shots only rather than a real movie). It seems slightly cruel.

I later notice that there is a collection (belonging to me and my wife) of nine black horses (in somewhat of a three by three arrangement), each either from an old carousel or a rare antique rocking horse, most oriented towards the south, but at different angles and within a group of other smaller items and smaller furniture. This may relate to traveling back into some of the mysteries of childhood that I have not focused on in quite some time.

Morning of November 2, 2013. Saturday.



This is my long flying dream, which becomes vivider in La Crosse at sister Marilyn’s house, having flown around after leaving the King Street boarding house. I had been homeless, living on Goose Island, having lived in treetops and now and then a rooftop. I had not done much walking but my shoes are worn out though I end up refreshing myself at one point as well as getting new shoes from my wife (wife-to-be in my dream).

This younger version of my wife had been going to the first year of a university course (University of Wisconsin in La Crosse). We embrace and kiss a few times, but she is apparently not ready to enter into marriage. We fly together under my power. I tell her that I can teach her to fly on her own with her own cloak and explain how my cloak works. My cloak is used for steering while flying. I explain how a certain part should gather and be tied about a foot or more up from the feet to prevent it from billowing out more. It seems to look and work similar to the wings of a flying fox. At one point, I demonstrate how to sleep while hanging upside-down like a bat. In the majority of my recent flying dreams, I have flown in a black cloak or in some cases a blue bed sheet that moves around me in various ribbon-like ways (similar to the Cloak comic book character from Marvel), more to protect my skin from twigs and such rather than a modesty issue.

Several events transpire. At one point, another person does not understand how I am able to fly and I explain that everyone has this ability. I try to teach them in steps, starting by saying that you just need to let yourself rise and hover while ignoring the force of gravity (as if one could), thus allowing yourself to float upwards. They try but fail. In the first part of my dream, I mostly fly about in either a standing or forty-five degree position. Horizontal flying (as with Superman) does not seem to feel right.

At one point, someone has a set of weapons and another joins him near the corner of a house (Gillette street; perhaps a play on getting cut or a “close shave”). (The weapon looks like the throwing star from “Krull” from 1983, a movie I saw in-dream prior to seeing it in reality without having known a thing about it and unexpectedly having someone else take me to see it on the same evening). Each star has either six or eight arms instead of the five, though. The two other people first seem to be playing around, yet do not like my flying. I get very angry, as the weapons are deadly, yet they play around with them like toys. Still, I dodge each one thrown at me but get more and more annoyed. As a result, I develop the concept that in order for a person to be allowed to use a weapon, he should be injured with it at least a few times before being allowed to use it. Taking this faux rule or law into consideration (without realizing my act is hypocritical as I had not been injured by them), I catch, over a short time as I am flying at about thirty degrees, three of the throwing stars (about three-fourths the size of a lawn-mower blade) and swing them back to the closest male while I am in mid-flight while doing a fancy maneuver. Two slice through each side of his body to the opposite side, one about a foot lower than the other, another going right through his abdomen (above the other two) expanding the cut to each side. I “explain” the upholding of the “rule”, which does not matter anyway, as the person falls apart into four pieces. I casually explain (to someone who appears and mourns the sudden loss of their husband) why that was the right thing to do. The other male stands there in a daze.

I eventually find myself flying around Southern Rhodesia in an isolated (or earlier in time?) area of Salisbury. (Possibly, it is an association with Salisbury steak which I ate in my youth in TV dinners; quite possibly the least palatable meal I have ever eaten.) I go to an even more isolated area after a few people seem either annoyed or frightened by my flying above them. I go into a herb shop (that is more like a rickety “house”) and an African male wants to learn how to fly with me. However, he then decides he will give me a lot of money if I bring back a small amount of Entada rheedii (African Dream Herb, of which I have never seen in real life to my knowledge) to sell for retail at his small shop. I go off on an adventure flying fairly low, deep in jungles, gliding over tall grasses and between trees. I am soon annoyed by large mosquitoes now and then and first worry about getting chikungunya. I clearly hear the loud, annoying buzzing in only my right ear at times. (This was specifically precognitive as I had not seen or heard anything on this for a long time. I thought it was a reference to a much older time period within my dream). I finish my task and move on, as I silently worked out in my mind that there was some sort of invisible barrier so the mosquitoes could not actually bite me. At this point, there are Blue Pearl events where the sphere seems to be almost external and moving at about my speed at a close distance. It seems to communicate with me and move ahead out of my range of vision.

I am, for some reason later on, near the main inlet of Rio de Janeiro. I also fly close to some hotels near Ipanema though a few people become angry at my act and wave their fists. There is talk of a new law to restrict my flying space. I adjust my dark cloak to steer through more populated areas and those areas with more potentially hazardous architecture. Although many people seem annoyed, some seem friendly and cheerfully wave. A short and fat mostly bald businessman in a dark suit waves at me and motions for me to land. A very gentle bossa nova (with a lot of higher string riffs) plays on the breeze (from several cheap outdoor radios at once, including from hotel balconies) with a gentle female chorus with amazing harmonies, which is like “The Girl From Ipanema”, but is like a parody of the song I saw many years ago. The gentle “Garota de Ipanema” song carries on the breeze (with different lyrics):

“Short and fat and bald and ug-a-ly,
the guy from Ipanema needs to fly with me,
to get back to his hotel across the bay…”

I am able to lift the heavy man and he smells of cheap cigar. He “flies” closely to my left, hanging on tightly, which annoys me, but I do not say anything. Still, it is very refreshing to look down over the water and boats from high above. Now and then, over the seemingly long journey (I guess I am flying more slowly at this point - it almost seems we are not moving at times - but this is likely how it would appear in real life from a small plane going at a reasonable speed) I have vague thoughts a couple times of dropping him into the water far below (by which he probably would not survive). There is also a slight concern that I will not get him across and I will instead end up dropping him midway anyway. Still, I feel I need to do this task so as to have “larger, friendlier energies more on my side”(?) After the long flight, I finally see the opportunity to land softly and he is grateful that he had not been late for the convention. I have apparently made a “new friend”.

LINK:

http://www.abc.net.au/news/2013-10-2...-virus/5051210

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.

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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.

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…”

Night of October 13, 2013. Sunday.



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Morning of October 11, 2013. Friday.



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Morning of 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.

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).

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.

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1 minute 10 seconds to read.

Sunday morning, 13 January 2008. (Reviewed Sunday afternoon, 28 August 2022.)

Hydra Window

Dream # 15,000-13.



This dreaming experience occurred shortly after midnight in the first hour of 13 January 2008 while my family and I lived on Barolin Street in Bundaberg. I had fallen asleep at my computer while sitting in a chair on our large porch. My head was upright.

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I am aware I am gazing into an undefined dark space with three-dimensional depth. Despite the absence of a discernible light source, the surreal imagery has well-defined detail.

I focus on a floating closed sash window. It has nine small panes in a three-by-three arrangement.

Nine snakes seem to have grown from the wooden window frame atop the window, across its width. They sway about oddly (somewhat reminiscent of stop-motion animation) but mainly remain vertically oriented. The snakes seem about half their natural length but remain a part of the window.

Soon, the window moves away at a moderate speed, not as if my viewpoint is zooming out, but as if the isolated floating window is moving evenly away from me as I remain in a peaceful incorporeal space. I do not feel any sense of movement or momentum (as with my vestibular-motor phasing response in REM atonia) or physicality, only vivid sight.

Because I am in the highest self-aware state of dreaming, there is no fear, only curiosity, and puzzlement. There was no myoclonus (“sleep start”) despite the lack of a defined environment.

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The primary influence seems to be from the hydra scene from “Jason and the Argonauts” (1963), especially regarding the unrealistic stop-motion animation essence my dreams sometimes have. (It was one of my favorite movies growing up, and I have seen it numerous times.)

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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.

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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.

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