lucid

Morning of May 26, 2020. Tuesday.

Dream #: 19,517-01. Reading time (optimized): 3 min.



My dream self grows instinctually aware and active during the usual process that determines a handler for cortical arousal (initially my vestibular cortex). In this dream, it is Jackie Gleason, the primary influence being the moonrise (dream state initiation) in the television series “The Honeymooners.” (I will emphasize a fundamental causal factor here. Because being in the dream state has a similar level of cortical dormancy and sensory deprivation as when watching television or a movie, a celebrity is often the virtual handler of my waking transition.)

An unknown male is with me to my right (waking status personification, mainly inactive). In a big undefined room, two unfamiliar men are standing and talking, facing each other, with the implication we are watching a movie, though we are present and sitting cross-legged at the scene (a common dream state ambiguity). One man is playing the role of a young and thin Jackie Gleason. For a few minutes, we are trying to work out which man is playing him. Eventually, it becomes obvious. It is the man on the left, who has dark curly hair.

The identity determinant results in initiating the next stage of my dream and vivifies it. My dream self handler (again, vestibular cortex) is Jackie Gleason. Even so, I am still only a witness to the scenario. The Sistine Chapel is in ruins, though only as in another world. An unknown male with a staff controls the lightning (neural energy while in the dream state) to send individuals into the other world. He first does this to an unknown woman (a quantum model of Zsuzsanna, as my waking-life identity is absent). I watch her wander around alone. The storm is not threatening.

Eventually, the anticipated myoclonus factor becomes pre-liminal. Jackie Gleason stands in the center of the ruins and wants to find the unknown woman to confirm her status and bring her back if possible. The expectation of the transition is by way of flight (as has usually been the case since childhood). There is no roof on the ruins of the building, to allow for the vestibular management of this process. (I am sleeping on my back in this instance, which usually results in vertical dream state processing rather than horizontal as with, for example, using a door to exit my dream).

A pterodactyl flies down as the vestibular processing simulacrum. Jackie Gleason stands there, but nothing happens. They stare at each other, but the pterodactyl eventually unexpectedly flies off instead of carrying him into the next world.

As a result of no myoclonus or viable consciousness emergence, cortical arousal instead establishes a vivid offset dream that serves as a false awakening, and I am now lying on my back on the front lawn of our current home in the late morning. Zsuzsanna is standing to my left. (She is awake in reality, standing to my left in our lounge room.) I can see the front of our house and the sky. Dark clouds, lightning, and rain are fast approaching from the south. I am concerned about my dream journal getting wet (as it is on the lawn near me), but I have difficulty moving quickly enough. Eventually, I can get up and wake while doing this.

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Here are some similar examples of this dreaming process that has occurred every sleep cycle for over 50 years:

Ralph Waite (as in “The Mississippi” television series from the 1980s), referring to a book, talks about the vestibular cortex processing in initiating consciousness (though I do not discern the specific details), summons a giant sparrow, and flies off on its back. (November 7, 2018.)

An unknown woman and her daughter (quantum model of Zsuzsanna and our youngest daughter) receive a book from Rodan. (Rodan has a similar appearance as a pterodactyl.) The book is enormous (as tall as the woman) and is about dream state processes. (May 21, 2020.)

A giant white dove (with a red heart symbol on its chest) emerges from the entrance of the Arcadia post office and approaches me as I stand outside facing the building. I hold onto a sword engulfed in blue fire, but there is no threat. (February 9, 1991, part of a longer dream with enigmatic communication with Zsuzsanna before we met in waking life, foreshadowing the letter she wrote to me. I arrived in Australia on February 9, 1994. An American postage stamp, #2814C, featuring a white dove and a red heart made of roses came out on February 14, 1994.)

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Morning of March 8, 2020. Sunday.

Dream #: 19,438-01. Reading time: 54 sec.



In my transition from complete lucidity to liminality near the beginning of my dreaming experience, I think about the nature of imaginary physicality, though it does not correlate with the usual falling sensation anticipation.

As the rapid morphing of various random settings slows and stabilizes, I see a variation of the “Gunsmoke” Dodge City set, though its implication is ambiguous, as both people on horses and modern cars are present and in motion. I know that horses are more of an instinctual rendering when imaginary proprioception is an anticipated factor, whereas cars, although still signifying the physical body as sublimated while dreaming, indicate a partial level of cognizance. As a result, my liminal state integrates the ambiguity of both in an atypical form of sleep-wake mediation.

What results, as I am moving into my sleep cycle instead of out of it, is that all the cars unrealistically rotate, reminiscent of a tornado, ballerina’s pirouette, or helicopter rotor system (all of which are variations of mediating this process) as I allow my lucidity to lessen. There is no emotion as only one horse bucks at the impossible scene (only because I briefly anticipate it). The cars do not lift off the ground but rapidly rotate in place until their spinning makes them a seemingly transparent circular anomaly. After a few minutes, I allow the scene to fade.

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Morning of January 31, 2020. Friday.

Dream #: 19,401-02. Reading time: 1 min 35 sec.



My dream self’s focus is on electrical wiring, which is typically co-occurrent with an increase in mental activity (neuronal energy) while sleeping (and sometimes, as here, eventually renders fire). (It is a common sleep-wake mediation process for me, but the rendering and narrative are always different, though in one dream it was more obvious than usual when I “removed my head,” which was a football helmet, and examined and moved the wiring inside it.)

The setting is unknown (though my dream implies it is our present home). Zsuzsanna is nearby (to my left, modeling our sleeping position). At about neck level, a cluster of gold wiring is hanging from an open part of the wall (so it is a type of wall mediation, that is, navigating emerging liminality, as well as associations with increasing mental activity). Although the wires are loose, I consider that the current is stable as long as they do not get moved either accidentally or with intent.

Zsuzsanna’s brother Simon approaches and comments on the wiring. I move the cluster slightly and consider the loose wiring (and certain wires touching each other) might cause a short.

As a result of moving the wires, my dream’s dynamics and narrative changes, with my liminal intent to continue sleeping. The incidental preconscious personification as Simon, who remains passive, also correlates with my sleep-wake mediation. (The preconscious simulacrum only dominates when waking is more of a priority, kind of a no-brainer.)

My dream changes into typical indoor-outdoor liminal ambiguity. The outcome of this wall mediation results in its virtual division expanding and becoming a beach that defines open liminal space yet is still impossibly implied to be inside our house. (However, potential water reinduction is not clearly defined, as the ocean seems distant.) I now see a very long electrical cord that seems to go all the way to the shore (while the beach sand it is in is still a part of the floor of our house), and minimal fire consumes part of its length as I walk along, mentally extinguishing it to sustain my dream. (Fire also sometimes correlates with the increase in body temperature when closer to waking.) There is no more fire, and I sleep for about another hour.

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Several of my recent dreams have had atypical variations of intentional water reinduction, all with unique results, for example, “Digging Up a Pool” from January 28.

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Morning of January 28, 2020. Tuesday.

Dream #: 19,398-03. Reading time: 1 min 6 sec.



In emerging from slow-wave sleep near the middle of my sleep cycle, a dream sometimes starts with the association of something having been underground, a natural precursor to consciousness emergence. It is more likely to occur when the beginning of my sleep cycle has countless vivid images of sand or dirt flowing over and into various rocky formations of inexplicable beauty and realistic detail, nearly as appealing as water-related renderings (which have been at the beginning of every sleep cycle since earliest memory). Both types of induction sequences become more populated with sightings of cave entrances, which signify my anticipation of entering deeper sleep.

My dream has a simplistic reinduction narrative. It seems to be nighttime, and about seven soldiers in military camouflage, who are passive to my presence, are here to do some digging. There is no waking process personification or a sense of intrusion here, as it is not near the end of my sleep cycle. Instead, the process focuses on reinduction by summoning water.

Even so, a thread of emerging consciousness results in a defined association with the color yellow (rare in dreaming in this mode, occurring mainly in later dreams of my sleep cycle with a more defined waking directive). I look down into a hole in the ground and see a yellow pool pump with a black cord attached. I anticipate the soldiers and I will uncover a large swimming pool, though I neither contemplate how the swimming pool will eventually be at ground level nor the impossibility of such an outcome. I wander around the area with emerging thoughts of dream state reinduction, but my dream fades instead, without the presence of water.

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Morning of January 3, 2020. Friday.

Dream #: 19,373-01. Reading time (optimized): 1 min 30 sec.



Water and its essence remain one of the most beautiful and appealing factors of dreaming. That is because bodies of water signify the state of sleep and its dynamics and sleep is bliss (as the virtually countless commercial recordings utilizing the sound of water to induce sleep verifies). It also expresses the fluidity of the dream state’s imaginary physicality with its abandonment of defined muscularity.

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I instinctually enter a more vivid status of imaginary proprioception without drop anticipation (as a result of my vestibular cortex nuances in sleep-wake mediation). I fly slowly near Niagara Falls. The water is luminescent, and its flow is enrapturing. When I fly directly in front of the waterfall, there is a shadow that has more definition than it would in reality. It is not my body’s shape, but the longways silhouette of a helicopter. It tips to the left at about 45 degrees as I occupy myself with thoughts of diving into the refreshing water. I am not a helicopter in this scene (only my body’s shadow is), but a vehicle signifies the extension of imaginary physicality while in the dream state. A helicopter’s status in contrast to an airplane in a situation like this implies more cognizance in emergence.

The waterfall briefly becomes a curtain of turquoise and cyan silk ribbons, some swaying out as if with a breeze from within, as wall mediation initiates.

Looking to my right again, I see the helicopter silhouette has transformed into a hake (fish) silhouette of the same size and orientation, though briefly, ambiguity dictates that the shadow is both hake and helicopter. To oblige the illusion, I perform butterfly stroke swimming motions as I fly downward. Instead of entering the water, I become incorporeal and remain in abstract space for a time.

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A dream with similar sleep-wake mediation is “Helicopter Digger” from August 23, 1987. In that dream, a helicopter dives to the ground while a friend and I are fishing. Instead of crashing, it becomes a digging machine, the rotary blades churning the soil as if with a purpose as it enters the ground while tipped to the front at about 45 degrees. Typically, going underground indicates anticipation of returning to slow-wave sleep, whereas diving into water implies acknowledgment of REM sleep.

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Early Evening of November 18, 2019. Monday.

Dream #: 19,327-09. Reading time (optimized): 30 sec.



In my lucid dream, my dream self is in a shopping mall in the main area, probably Hinkler Central. Green Lantern approaches and hands me a rough sketch of an Angry Bird. When I look at it, I wake with an intense but brief hypnopompic abdominal spasm.

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Despite my imaginary experience starting with lucidity, my instinctual modulation of vestibular system correlation (as a result of the lack of discernment of my physical body while in the dream state) resulted in transferring falling start anticipation and its dynamics, typically lighter and whole body, into jolting where instinctual modulation originates from, around my belly button. My dream’s content is otherwise incidental to the processes other than most often having flight associations despite this trigger being a static image.

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Morning of October 18, 2019. Friday.

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



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

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

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

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

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Morning of September 24, 2019. Tuesday.

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Morning of March 5, 2019. Tuesday.

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



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

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

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

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

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

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Morning of June 12, 2019. Wednesday.

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



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

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

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Early evening of February 14, 2019. Thursday.

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



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

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

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

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

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Morning of January 22, 2019. Tuesday.

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



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

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

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

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

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Morning of January 23, 2019. Wednesday.

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Morning of January 14, 2019. Monday.

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Optimized 2 minute read.
Friday night, 11 January 2019.
Death of a Starfish (hand mobility)
Dream # 19,016-02.



I am attending an evening dinner party in a dimly lit room, sitting at a large rectangular table with unfamiliar people in an unknown location. To my right, there is a glass of cola on the table.

My right hand transforms into a starfish. It wiggles and detaches from my arm, spurting cola from several pores. It tips the glass over and dies.

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I experienced this dream with my usual post-hypnagogic lucidness without attempting to influence the narrative. Lucidness delivers the awareness of what is creating my dreaming experience.

Dreams in this part of my sleep cycle (secondary post-hypnagogic) present the theme of loss of hand or arm mobility (whereas the first correlates with loss of leg mobility) because of REM atonia (the natural paralysis while sleeping that occurs throughout all dreams in healthy people). The pre-hypnopompic inversion (in the second half of my sleep cycle) presents the theme of gaining hand or arm mobility in preparation for wakefulness.

Hand metamorphosis presents far less often than the event of someone else dropping something in this sleep cycle time slot and mode of dreaming.

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