lucid

Night of November 12, 1977. Saturday.



This dream was extraordinarily vivid. I do not consider it a nightmare, regardless of the implications (as I was not frightened or in distress at any point and I did not have to run away). Carol (older half-sister on my mother’s side) and her husband are driving around, seemingly in Florida near where I live in Cubitis. It is very late at night, probably midnight, and a bit cool. It seems, though, that we are in an old-fashioned convertible from the 1940s. My brother-in-law Mel is driving.

There is a very eerie sound of continuous screaming in various pitches, and that of all ages. Soon, a large group of people are running from our left to our right on the perpendicular road of the intersection we are about one car away from and are stopped because of Mel wondering what is going on. We are not attacked, but there is a very unusual mood and I am near lucidity. None of us say anything for a time, and nothing else seems to happen after they pass. It is only a bit later that I realize that none of them had a head. There is no gore or blood. They seem to all run at about the same speed and are mostly equidistant by about four feet. It is almost like some sort of macabre “migration” which I believe is the conclusion that Carol comes to and she comments very casually and calmly on the scene. I eventually wonder how they could be screaming if they have no heads. It seems like a major event, but the backstory remains unknown (until hypnopompic disclosure surfaces).

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An intersection is rendered in my dreams as representing the choice of returning to deeper sleep or waking, that is, autosymbolism for RAS mediation. There is usually an additional known factor that validates this. In this case, the headless people, running perpendicular to my dream self’s location and my liminal intent to return to sleep, dramatically represent the lack of thinking skills in the dream state as well as being linked to my liminal association with headless clothing store mannequins, which adds more validation to why my dream was rendered in this way, as a mannequin is autosymbolism for the physical body being inactive while asleep (and I sometimes see clothing store mannequins without heads as a very peculiar feature in society). As these people are running to my right rather than being still, it represents a peculiar way of looking at the waking stage, usually unique, always curious.

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Morning of November 3, 1977. Thursday.



This was one of the only times a dream seemed to be interrupted by a different dream in an atypical, somewhat startling fashion. I was in one dream and then another dream “broke into it” like a radio broadcast very suddenly “drowning out” another with a completely different degree of awareness.

My second dream was much more vivid than the first (and with growing lucidity). In the first dream, I seem to be at a television studio yet not fully present (not disembodied, just not directly in the environment), the ceiling being about twelve feet high. The New Mouseketeers, all dressed in plain white clothes, seem to be involved in some sort of unlikely science-fiction movie or televised special (perhaps live) but they are also dancing on roller skates and moving past the camera several times without the camera panning in any way. When I look around, I mostly see very large white cubes, almost like steps (but too tall to use as steps and about three cubes high closest to the walls), but possibly containers. It seems fairly dark and isolated in some areas of the huge building (but not completely dark in any areas) and the otherwise featureless warehouse-like setting. Their dancing, motions, and singing (which I think the main line or title is “The World’s a Balloon”) becomes slightly annoying (almost perceived as bizarre) though they seem to be getting a bit more enthusiastic and practiced in their performance, almost frenzied in fact, but in a comedic sense.

Suddenly, there is a clearer awareness of mood and location that jumps like a needle on a record and I am in a different dream flying over Key West almost as if I had been plucked from one dream (of a completely different level of clarity and awareness) and put into another. Even the depth perception seems quite different and somewhat enhanced. A very long bridge stretches out over the ocean as I watch the cars move over it as I fly along. It is extremely vivid though the ocean is a deep purple. Everything else looks normal including the sky. Dreams do have a tendency to jump from scene to scene in some cases, but this was actually like a different type of experience, like actually “changing channels” and a quite different mental awareness at the same time.

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Morning of October 1, 1967. Sunday.



I am on my own, possibly in late morning, in a drifting canoe, going southward over a river (the Hillsborough River) in a swamp in Florida that looks like a part of Lettuce Lake Park.

On the banks of the river are very tall cypress trees. There seem to be continuous tall vertically stretched faces of which are superimposed against the trees, but are likely not meant to be the trees themselves, more like a ghostly presence or a strange optical illusion, similar to a funhouse mirror effect.

A few of the faces seem wary of my presence, even though I am a young child, with mouths open, though there is no certainty at some points that they are aware of me. There is a bluish green hue on everything at times. The closely clustered faces, as well as being stretched from ground to treetop and very narrow in appearance, also seem to waver very slowly at times, or have a bend near the middle of the face. They are both male and female, mostly all adults. They are only to my right, near the bank of the river. The faces otherwise do not move much. Despite the eerie imagery, I feel no fear, especially as a few of the faces seem afraid of my presence at times.

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Variations of this dream, both lucid and non-lucid, occurred a number of times from earliest memory. The causes behind this dream are fully known. It developed over the autosymbolic rendering of “drifting into sleep” (spoken mainly by my mother in real life when she was describing my status when I was resting in bed) and mixing the association with drifting in a canoe into a recognized form of dream state induction, which of course has no waking life relevance due to it being a factor of the dream state itself. It is still a major factor of my dreams, water being autosymbolic of the essence of sleep. This dream’s setting was an area my family and I visited in real life when I was very young.

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Morning of September 17, 1977. Saturday.



This was of a new period of lucid dreaming for me as well as higher vividness. 1977 was an unusual year for this. In my dream, I had fallen asleep on the living room couch (I had absentmindedly written “leaving room” instead of “living room” in the original entry). Through the glass panes of my atypical bedroom door (which did not close normally but rather squeezed into the doorway with some noisy difficulty), I see an unusual variation of the mystery girl. The level of vividness is extreme and fully in-body and I try to control my in-dream breathing a bit more than usual. I watch her through the glass as the glass panes seem much bigger than in reality (seeming to “grow”, actually). She is making references to riding the carousel with her…an actual carousel somehow in my room (or on the other side of the “mirror” aka window panes), although there is minor influence from having seen the first episode of “Logan’s Run” (the television series). In that show, the carousel meant death (at the age of thirty) but in the dream, it is only slightly ominous. There is a lot of in-dream “energy” or “vibration” that mostly only occurred in particular dream-types related to the mystery girl.

Over time, the carousel takes on a strange appearance, somewhat like a round, rotating wooden dock, almost like a circular version of part of the “Gunsmoke” set, as if the carousel was somewhat like a soap bubble where parts of it faded over time before it vanished completely. The imagery of this part of the dream came to match exactly - a large drawing my wife’s mother had done in Nimbin (with several copies in her family) long before I saw it in reality (and regardless of the high unlikelihood of someone making a drawing of that nature, which incidentally also included the theme of a divine or “twin soul” marriage - I mean, who else would associate a rotating carousel with nuances of a rotating circular “Gunsmoke” set or “ghost town”?). In real-life, the carousel my wife had actually been on during that same time was eventually dismantled (in Australia) and ended up where I lived in America, any of these things being the tip of the iceberg in thousands of unlikely parallels and precognitive nuances.

In my dream, I end up going through the glass somehow. I end up in some sort of business office where a group called “IRO” (possibly based on a fictional in-dream name of a male named Iro?) is holding a meeting about an upcoming novel called “Reflections”, which was apparently going to be written by the mystery girl (yet remain unpublished in “my” dimension - it was as if I was in an “alternate version of the future”). There is a discussion relating to refugees from Hungary, though at the time I had no conscious associations with “International Refugee Organization” and did not even think about the additional significance until many years later. (My wife’s father was technically a refugee during the Roma “ethnic cleansing” and escaped to Australia). (In real life, my wife had also written an unpublished novel called “Reflections” before I ever made real-life contact with her, continuing my usual tip-of-the-iceberg run.)

It seems unusual for me to be where I am and I wonder if I should stay, though I get the impression I would miss out on ten or more years of my life. I engage in a conversation with one male who asks me why I am able to focus on my dreams (and “other dimensions”) so well and document them and research as much as possible, to “solve” things. I tell him that if I had not done so, I would only seem to be “half here”. I must be an exception to the rule. Billions of other people do not seem to have that interest in being “complete” or actively in search of purpose. I am not sure if the male leader is called Iro or again if it is just a group name. I also get the impression of a younger sister of the mystery girl being called Rugboe. However, this comes to be a distortion of “Rugby”, which I did not learn of until years later (after moving to Australia).

A male asks me if I think that other people actually exist on “my” side other then myself, my “predestined” mate, and a handful of other people and I am not sure what he means. It almost seems like this other in-dream “pocket world” is only a business building where about six or seven men exist, forever in a “business meeting” of sorts.

Eventually, I understand that I cannot stay in this “other realm” much longer. There is a vague awareness that it is “parallel” to my Cubitis bedroom and I even seem to be in my room as such at times (many in-dream locations, as well as more often being composites, sometimes seem to “hold” two or more places at the same time while also existing in their own space). I do have more parts of the “puzzle”, though. I decide to think about this mystery girl again, and her unpublished “Reflections” novel. Maybe I will actually meet her one day…the carousel event and “Little Red Feather” being two other clues. The man asks me if “Little Red Feather” is my “real name” and I answer with no, not at all, it is the name of a toy plastic figure given to me by a cousin (Evelyn W) when I was six. I suppose the mystery girl is puzzled at this.

…particularity as my yet-to-be wife had an “imaginary” playmate of that name in Australia at the time…long before we made “real” contact…

There are certain things you never come back from, and which you cannot “unlearn” no matter how many millions of people “exist differently”.

Night of September 13, 1977. Tuesday.



In real life, my father had come home from his work rather early and came into my room to give me a book. “She told me to give this to you,” he said. Who did he mean? Jenny? Likely not. My father would not have directed any attention to the concept of ghosts at that point, especially “fresh” ghosts, ghosts only about a month old. “I found it in the window seat,” he said. He said it was the only thing on the property. Anywhere. It was a children’s book about a white kangaroo. I did not ask him who “she” was or who he thought the book had belonged to. He went back to work, riding there on his bicycle, a considerable distance (I had no idea why he felt the need to do this), working for a dollar an hour when everyone else was earning five or more. For his age, his stamina was incredible, including when he rode a bicycle across the United States, twice, in his seventies.

Even though I was sixteen and the book was obviously for a much younger age group, I kept it for awhile, though it did not make the journey to Wisconsin with me. Looking over my dream journals at the time, I discovered two older dreams about a “cataroo”, both on September 13th, one in 1973, the other in 1974. As the “cataroo” (upper half of cat, back half of kangaroo) rescued me in one dream, this “white kangaroo” business seemed benevolent and somehow reassuring. Still, it was an intriguing “coincidence”. This was before I came to learn how to trace precise synchronicity-based layers over the years that seemed “drawn” to a particular date for whatever reason. I came to think that it could possibly “explain” some aspects of precognition, but still did not explain “non-local mind” or remote viewing. After all, many people know that Christmas will arrive on the 25th of December. How difficult is that? Apparently too difficult a concept for the majority.

In my dream, I think of my father exploring the mostly empty recesses of either ruined lives or those who could not settle down and for whatever reason had to move on. (“You stay out of my piccalilli farrago!” What? No exploration allowed? Did curiosity ever actually kill a cat?) Each and every person left behind one thing. Only one item. Perhaps one “clue” to use as a “key” for whatever purpose. Not all dreams are like this of course, but those that remain with certain persistent residual feelings and seeming links that others would never see even if they studied something for centuries.

At this point in my life (age sixteen, in September of 1977), I saw the world, for the most part, as jealous, murderous, and completely insane - and with very good reason. Those who were not insane were innocent and refused to do a single thing against the dominant problematic aggressors. Whoever you interacted with could easily be “removed”. Even after countless warnings and direct signs, no one listened.

My dream girl aka “imaginary girlfriend” as best friend Toby called her (though he did have honest interest in my dream work, unlike some) noted the white kangaroo book. She told me she would “hold one for me” when I was to make contact with her in the “real” world (whatever that is) years from then. She said her human form would not necessarily realize this. Her angelic goddess essence would always be present…somewhere. It seems funny to hear a dream character talking about their “human form”. It was not that I would ever need “confirmation”. The “clues” I knew of were already virtually endless. If I had started to write every miraculous “coincidence” that came directly to me, I would never stop writing.

The voices of truth cannot be silenced. People can lie. People can pretend. People deny that love exists. People deny that anything beyond mundane human life exists (and thus even their “dreams” are mundane and linear). Some people seem to enjoy denying the universe itself. Perhaps they even deny the existence of life itself.

Morning of August 15, 1967. Tuesday. (Daughter Amelia’s birthday in 1998.) Rough overhead “map” now included. Confusion stems from the fact that Amelia is supposedly in the airplane as well as on the ground with me (though on one level it may be her spirit on the ground with me rather than her implied physical form otherwise “duplicated” in the airplane) and we are facing away from the event even though it is also “clear” that we are watching it somehow.



I dreamt of being in my yard with Amelia Earhart. This is in the southern part of my yard at North Monroe Street in Florida. We are facing directly to the south even though the plane seems to need to be viewed north of us, but it seems as if I am (while disembodied) viewing the scene at one point from south of where I (physical form) am standing, my “real” incorporeal self looking northward and seeing myself (that is, my “real” incorporeal me - and my actual view - is facing the other dream-rendering of me in my physical form) and the plane is gong down to the left from my “real” view - yet she acknowledges this as if facing the event (rather than it being behind her as it is in my dream view). Amelia stands on my “other self’s” right. An old-fashioned Lockheed plane is going down diagonally in the sky as if in distress, with sparse smoke trailing behind it somewhat. I am somehow aware that she is my mother, even though I am informed by her that she is my daughter, which creates an intense puzzlement in the dream state, as it was also as if she was watching her own plane (with her own self in it) burning out and falling from the sky (with the likelihood of crashing somewhere in the distance). She is telling me how she crashed (or possibly only landed roughly without that much damage) on an island and something about the Japanese possibly shooting her down. There is an unusual mood that she may have been my “real mother” (possibly implied by the idea that on this date Will Rogers, a relative on my mother’s side, died in an airplane crash with Wiley Post, the first pilot to fly solo around the world and Amelia wanted to be the first woman to do this). Near the end, the imagery of Amelia and myself takes on a sort of grainy monotone appearance.

In real life, before we met, Zsuzsanna and I had decided our first daughter (if we had one) would be called “Amelia”, but not because of my dream (and it was in fact the name Zsuzsanna already chose and gave me over the telephone before she knew of “my” Amelia and dream history). At any rate, the August 15th marker regarding the foreshadowing of my daughter’s birth exists every year from earliest childhood up to the time she was born, as do most precognitive markers and is something I have never seen other people honestly address (other than with shortsighted denial and no viable understanding of dreams).

For a closer look at this dream and its real (native) meaning (as well as lifelong markers that many dreams have as well as unexplainable synchronicity related in the next paragraph), it is a very basic and very common (for me) “failed flight” waking transition; that is, something falling from the sky as representing the dreamer waking up (a subtle variation of the primary biological waking mechanism sometimes inclusive of a falling sensation and a hypnic jerk). The airplane (which most often represents a deeper potential of the dream state) is on fire because fire also represents light of day and dawning consciousness in this case. “Failed flight” does not typically mean anything negative as it simply means naturally waking from the “flight” (and “displacement”) of a dream (and this same waking transition can be seen in tens of thousands of other dreams, including those with meteors which is directly analogous to this dream’s content as well).

Additional layers and long-term markers: Wiley Post and Will Rogers (my mother’s cousin) died on this date in a plane crash (and information on my family connections, father as well as mother, can be found in books such as “The Papers of Will Rogers: From vaudeville to Broadway” and “Cowgirls of the Rodeo”). That does not invalidate the synchronicity with our daughter’s birth date; in fact, it confirms it since there are over fifty other date-relevant markers for her birth, most prior to my meeting Zsuzsanna.

Morning of August 14, 1977. Sunday.



I had this dream after falling asleep in the bed in the added “carport room” my father eventually used as an additional area to practice music while my mother then used the older music room (southwest corner of Cubitis home). It was normal for me to have completely different “energy” (and even perspective) in dreams when sleeping in a different location (and I did such on purpose to “stimulate” new potential but no longer “required” this later in life) - often having false awakenings and false memories of sleeping in an additional different location.

My dream was extraordinarily vivid and quite different to most others of the same time period. I was “revolving” (yet somehow seemingly fixed in space at the same time) around a farm scene (farmhouse and barn mostly) that was mostly in reds and oranges, with the farmhouse seemingly being the “hub” (of rotation). I could see every detail quite clearly and sharply, including a wheelbarrow, a livestock trough, haystacks, sections of fencing leaning against the barn, and so on. Although it is late morning (but on Sunday), I am somewhat in awe of the seemingly meaningful dream that continues for quite some time (with no feeling of being disoriented or dizzy - it is almost as if it is the scene that is somehow moving smoothly on a “virtual roulette wheel” and not me), almost as if it has significance of some kind or is some sort of “important art” that must somehow be captured on camera (which strikes me as unfortunate because aspects and features of it seem to change over time). At the same time however, it seems to be an enhanced three-dimensional hologram of some kind with slightly harsher lines (at a later point) than what would imply physical reality. It is hard to explain, because some aspects almost look like an oil painting at times and it eventually takes on more of an artificial look, yet still extraordinarily beautiful. I get the impression that “I could watch it all morning”.

My dream shifts into being fully “in body” at an unknown location. It seems to be the southeast section of the armory and game rooms we took a break at from taking our SAT tests at our nearby school, but on a fictional third floor, it seems. I am aware of the pool table (as its general location in reality), but the size and layout of the rooms are slightly different.

A male student, who was somewhat of a bully in real life and quite chubby (to where he “automatically” urinated and wet his pants when he ran in real life, especially on a harder surface such as the street), is seemingly known as a sort of “super villain” at that point, as if my dream suddenly created a back story without my awareness or cooperation (regardless of my dawning lucidity). He is dressed somewhat typically though.

Suddenly, I become quite lucid, but am not sure what to do. The male bully, who is about twice my girth (but almost the same height) approaches me, saying “Want the Hog?” (his “super villain name”, apparently) and moves his arms out a bit (as if for a bear hug) as if in readiness to fight. I go to the large window on the east end of the room (choosing to ignore this dream scenario) and notice it is open enough to just crawl through. As I look out, I see several young children playing and laughing near a park bench and water sprinkler near where pigeons are feeding. The sunlight is bright, and the detail is quite clear. I start to crawl out the window in an attempt to also fly (or leap and then fly), but do not quite make it as I then start to wake, left feeling somewhat frustrated. (In real life there was a mostly unused playground bordering that end of the building, which was always empty when we were there, and some friends and I were yelled at for going on the swings and acting “childish” - and my friend - Jeff S - went on and on about how ridiculous it was to say that older teens never sat in swings, which was what the teachers implied in their condescending “warnings” about never doing it again.)

Morning of August 3, 1967. Thursday.



This is probably my first vivid plesiosaurus dream. It mostly involves the “coming to life” of a two-page painting spread which I think was inspired by a book in real life previously (though I have not tracked down the source). It involved a very vivid and long event of a plesiosaurus fighting with an ichthyosaurus. There was a lot of color and well-rendered detail. I was seemingly not in any danger at any point; it was more as if I was floating about or hovering, watching the event as if it was some sort of amazing holographic movie. At times, I was aware of being in a large sailboat on my own on a calm sunny afternoon, though, and watching and feeling the movement of the big waves (caused by the fight) hitting my sailboat. There were times when I felt joy in looking up at these creatures from my sailboat. It seemed that no other person was around for many miles. This was like a special private enjoyment. There were minor degrees of semi-lucidity at times. The closest shore was seemingly west, though I had thoughts that I was traveling southeast.

Optimized 1 minute 30 second read.

Thursday morning, 7 April 1977.

Cosmic Dawn (Wild Haflinger Horse in Front Yard)

Dream # 3,762-02.

I am standing in my front yard near the south side of our driveway in Cubitis early in the morning. The sun is incorrectly rising in the west.

A beautiful Haflinger horse is standing nearby. It faces me from the south near the first small silver oak tree. I think its name might be Cosmic Dawn, but I also vaguely consider “Cosmic Dawn” may be the name of a movie I am making. I try to recall if the horse is mine.

I calmly approach the horse to pat its nose, anticipating a spiritual connection. It suddenly seems afraid of me. It backs away and neighs loudly and unrealistically. It gallops to the highway, making stiff, unrealistic dancing and kicking movements with bizarre wriggling reminiscent of a mosquito larva.

Despite the increasingly surreal imagery as the horse continuously bucks as it progresses south, it briefly seems like a mechanism controlling the cosmos, including the movements of planets and stars. The night sky is visible through parts of the morning sky near the western horizon only.

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Lucidness and conscious bias seemed to result in the bizarre outcome. I often have more control of dream content in the second half of my sleep cycle with less lucidness (because of conscious bias), including when my dream self has no recall of what “dreaming” is but intuitively recognizes the essence and inconsequentiality of non-reality.

Ultimately, a horse corresponds with my ongoing perception of my imaginary physicality while in the dream state. My dream body and other imagined physical aspects of non-reality are not always stable, and awareness of that factor was present here. My dream made me realize that temporality outside of consciousness is ambiguous, as the night sky is visible through the sunrise in the wrong direction.

This dreaming experience integrates a real-world influence regarding a younger former schoolmate tying his horse to the first silver oak tree from our driveway. He had come to talk to my father about something his parents wanted. I was no longer going to school since age fifteen. I was not with him at any point, but I watched his horse through my window.

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Morning of February 9, 1977. Wednesday.



Dream Series: The Experience of Prescience, the Inexplicable Dream State Phenomenon. Part 4

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This dream’s main setting is an unusual variation of my Cubitis home. The shed is not present in the northern part of the backyard and one area near where the front of it would otherwise be is the side of a trailer that is oriented north to south, where two of my older brothers, Dennis and Jim, supposedly live (though they are living in Wisconsin at the time in reality, not Florida). The location of the main focus or dream’s climax is the exact same spot in the north side yard where my “mystery girl” revealed herself for the final time in this particular setting in a later dream (and also above where the body of Christ was literally buried in a childhood dream - eventually indicating I was the “son of the universe” in this cycle of existence), with the exact appearance (and unlikely accent) in every way, as my wife-to-be, Zsuzsanna, before we ever met in reality or even viably knew that we were real to each other.

An unknown beautiful dark-haired green-eyed girl (with the usual mixed Hungarian and Australian accent) features in my dream, thoug again, she has the same appearance as my lifelong “mystery girl” (dream girl of otherworldly beauty). She carries a sword which sometimes has a blue sheen and she wears some sort of unusual bikini-like outfit composed of teal-colored reptilian scales. Where I have a large scar on my left wrist, she has only a small scar on her left wrist. (In reality, Zsuzsanna has a smaller scar like a section of mine on her left wrist in the exact same spot where it matches mine. We got them in the same way; by falling onto a broken glass mug shard.)

At one point, I enter the trailer (its door otherwise in the same area the shed door would have been, though it is elevated). Jim and Dennis are not there, yet I have no doubt about the “reality” of this dream. I become impatient and angry at not finding my “mystery girl” after she is not present for a time, so angry that I tip over the shelves containing my brothers’ cassettes and records and such. I then make all the chairs fly about with telekinesis for a time as well as my literal “turning the tables” act, where I will a table to spin about and change its original orientation.

However, my “mystery girl” appears again in the next-to-last segment of this dream. She tells me that it is not my time to be with her yet and says she must “return to the Source”. I am not sure what it is all about. She is to be my bride, so I become impatient and reach out to her. She tells me that I will meet her in seventeen years in Australia. She seems to shrink, become younger and younger, and over time, becomes a gecko and scurries off southward. (In real life, I met Zsuzsanna in Australia exactly seventeen years after this dream, on February 9, 1994.)

I walk quickly south (covering more ground than would be possible in reality), thinking I might see her again, and, as is often the case, there is shallow water in many areas, but curiously, some swimming pools are mostly somehow empty while parts of the ground are lightly flooded (a variation of the very common water lowering waking symbolism, signifying the cessation of the dream state).

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From the night of December 23, 1966. Friday.

Dream #: 4-01. Reading time (optimized): 1 min 30 sec.



This dream (repeating at different levels of vividness several times on the same night, though chiefly from willing it) occurred three days after my sixth birthday. It started before midnight of December 23 while I slept in the second-floor apartment of 901 Rose Street in La Crosse, Wisconsin.

Its primary causation is simply a different version of the first microdream that I have had virtually every sleep cycle to date (as of October 19, 2020) when I am walking with a vivid awareness of imaginary kinaesthesia and suddenly fall into wakefulness with myoclonus. The main difference, other than its unique content, originates from the predominant degree of sleep atonia resulting in a dream of a longer length than the common microdream I have described here.

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In my dream, it is late at night, and no other person seems to be awake. It is dark. I walk on the back roof of the Rose Street building (accessible from the second floor by way of a door at the end of a hallway), with liminal dream state awareness. I think of using the fire escape at the back of the building to descend to the parking area. When I start to step onto it, it is no longer present. A more realistic version of the Shadow Cat from “Gay Purr-ee” (1962) is suddenly holding onto my hand as I remain in the dream, though in undefined liminal space for a time.

I entered different versions of my dream several times in the same sleep cycle. In one instance, I descended the stairs. In another, I chose not to walk to the edge, though in another, I floated.

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Other than the usual causation, more specific influences in this case mainly come from the musical scenes in the animated movie. It includes the lines “If anyone can save you, the money cat can!” and “In the palm of our paw” from “The Money Cat.” Of lesser influence was “Show me the way to all my dreams” and “and be seen hand-in-hand with Paree” from “Take My Hand, Paree.”

Because of this dreaming experience, I began to develop an advanced understanding of dream control, liminality, and dream content causation in a world where virtually everything I read about dreams is the result of misconception.

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Night of December 16, 1966. Friday.



This was recurring from when I was very young. I believe there were a few versions that occurred in the middle of the night. In one version, in one journal, I had decided that the opossums may actually be small foxes (even though that really was not very reasonable), so I wrote a poem called “Foxes in the Trees” in real life, yet later decided that I should not change things, so I came to have an internal self-fulfilling symbolism of the opossums being the “princes of the trees”. Being watched by mysterious animal eyes is probably a universal theme in children’s dreams regardless of race or culture, but I am only guessing that based on my own early experiences in dream work.

It is late at night and I am in the woods, I assume in an area of Chipmunk Coulee farther from where I had actually lived in that region.

I am near a tree in which there are a few opossums on the branches but all I can see are their eerie glowing eyes (and in later versions, the lighter heart-shaped areas of their faces). It seems these opossums are some sort of guardians that are supposed to follow me and protect me in some unknown way. I pretend not to notice them because I do not want to cause trouble or perhaps draw attention to myself in this unfamiliar landscape.

In the distance is a long, winding path of an unusual (almost a sequence of Z-shaped turns) path where some areas seem to be dead forests. The moon (or sun in a rather “bad” dream rendering?) seems to be a black shadow hanging in the sky rather than the “real” moon or sun. This unusual area seems to be very similar to my “Empty Boots” dream found here: http://blue-opossum.tumblr.com/post/...75/empty-boots

Night of November 12, 1966. Saturday.



I am in my older sister Marilyn’s apartment on Rose Street which was similar to my parent’s rented apartment on the second floor and across the hall in the same building. In her broom closet (which is larger in my dream), there appears to be some sort of “portal” into another world. A tall girl made of diamonds is ready to emerge. She is actually like a large living diamond which is shaped mostly like a person but with many seemingly both transparent and reflective facets. It is not a threatening event but is rather eerie. My sister Marilyn does not seem all that surprised or interested. (It almost seems incidental to the location, like someone coming to wait for a bus, perhaps). No clothes are implied. (She does seem to take on a fashion show stance at one point, hands on hips with upper body slightly slanted to her left side.) She may be some sort of being from a different planet as this is the feeling I eventually get. There does not seem to be a floor in the broom closet so I am not sure how she is standing in place. In fact, the broom closet almost seems to lead into outer space. (However, there is also the idea that she may have come up by way of an elevator from the tavern below the apartment.)

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Notes on Tuesday, 8 March 2016: This dreams ends with semi-lucid doorway waking symbolism. This type of dream outcome is sometimes triggered by the reticular activating system when environmental noise is present and based on the implied need to wake up and answer the door (which does not mean that the environmental noise is an actual door knock as the mind is unconscious and does not correctly perceive the real environment). Here, my emergent consciousness is rendered as a goddess-like being, the diamonds possibly analogous to the many facets of whole consciousness upon fully waking. Outer space relates to subliminal consciousness, the stars being neurons (in direct contrast to when awake when stars would represent the opposite, “seeing stars” as becoming unconscious or nearing unconsciousness). But why the female form? This causes me to question the doorway transition in this case as to whether it represented my ideal wife-to-be (even before she was born), Zsuzsanna. “The Biomagnetic Monster” (1965) dream could be seen as implying other people are connected while in the dream state though become “smaller” (less “present”) during the waking transition.

In “The Big Diamond” (1974) dream, it is implied that my emergent consciousness is a huge diamond (also representing whole consciousness - though the diamond is only half above ground - the other half below ground being my dream self). The only other character in “The Big Diamond” dream was the actress Michael Learned. She was apparently born on April 9th, which indicates prescience as that was when Zsuzsanna and I married.

In “Tulpa Triumphant” (2014) with my personal alternate title being “Zsuzsanna Triumphant”, my wife is seen as the “only true female that exists in this world” (or my dream state), which resolves to the reason for my dreams rendering her as the very accurate “mystery girl” long before we met. My dream may imply that all other females I have met or seen are only a facet of the “big diamond” while my wife Zsuzsanna is the diamond itself (symbolic of Corona Australis or Yin Incarnate, Virgo, Hathor, and so on, though not in the superstitious sense).

Diamonds represent the power of whole consciousness and thoughts that mirror (and reflect) various patterns into other areas of existence, as it is the conscious mind and expectation that builds the realm of the unconscious.

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But what if the origin of this dream in this case is the influence of the justifiably infamous “Mystery Date” (board game for girls) television commercial (from 1965)? How is that for irony?

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Morning of November 7, 1976. Sunday.



Water induction autosymbolism commences. Water is dream state autosymbolism for the essence of sleep. The presence of the water in mid-afternoon is more beautiful than ever. It sparkles and radiates in the promise of healing and maximum well-being. Water is life.

I had apparently come out from the water and that which had made me. There are several times when I open my eyes and squint due to the brightness of the sun directly overhead. The backyard of my Cubitis home has changed but I do not take that much notice to this. It seems I had fallen asleep in the backyard. The orange grove is not present. There is a large lake with islands rising in the distance as I gaze northward. Everything is so bright, well-defined, and vivid.

It seems as if I am slipping back and forth between my real bed and this “bed” in semi-lucidity. In my illogical thinking, I am wondering which location is where I really am. Perhaps both are real. Perhaps both are an illusion. The backyard is no longer covered with green grass, but smooth white ovular stones of about the size of my hands. This is not uncomfortable.

Eventually, when I hold my eyes open for a longer time, the head and neck of a very small plesiosaur, about the size of a cat, emerges from the lake about three feet from its shore. It has the grace of a swan. It sways somewhat as it seems to be watching me. Soon, there are a total of six. They all swim closer toward the shore, seeming curious of my presence. I am unsure if they are baby plesiosaurs or a miniature species.

I eventually enter the cool wonderful water. I swim with these creatures in a smooth and enjoyable event. It is a wonderful and peaceful experience. It is as if I am seen as a part of their world and they are welcoming me, though I am still fully aware of my human form. Euphoria. Can you imagine anything better than swimming in cool pure water in the dream state? The brain and heart are both about 73 percent water. It is the unsullied expansion of the self to be within this depth in the dream state. We swim to the depths of the lake, but eventually this segment of my dream fades.

In an offset dream, seemingly without waking fully, I now seem incorporeal. I am aware of a very large flatbed truck carrying our house to Wisconsin over a curved fictional highway beyond where the railroad tracks are in real life, to the east. I hover and watch the event. There is a vague focus on the house falling off this large truck as it makes a turn but I subliminally choose not to will this to happen, even after my dream resets and the scene repeats. It goes around a curve near a high embankment. I feel a sense of amusement as if I can shape the outcome in any way I choose.

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Years later, there was a highway in real life in that same area (though no lake or backyard of smooth white stones was ever a feature to this day). Although there had been talk of widening the highway (which has never happened to this day), that was regarding the original Highway Seventeen beyond our front yard to the west. I found it quite odd that the highway instead was built as in my dream. I never considered that this would actually happen.

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Last reviewed on Friday, 4 May 2018.

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Morning of October 3, 1976. Sunday.



I travel in a car with good friend Johnny C as the driver (same car he had in real life and this scenario being similar to real life to a point), best friend Toby T, and three girls including Tina L (so I guess the car was apparently crowded but did not seem as such). There is a recurring idea that was very common in dreams of this time period. The idea of moving through time or into “alternate worlds” based on a series of directions alone. I am semi-lucid but not “take full control” lucid, as I did not seem to want to be at this stage, just so I could passively enjoy things.

I am in the back seat on the right side. We are going north at one point. There is the idea that we should stop near my Cubitis home to see how it has changed. We decide to make my house the main destination through different “alternate worlds” or “alternate times”.

Upon our first stop, we find the house has changed into a laboratory but it has seemingly been abandoned. I see a beautiful painting on the east wall in my room that shows strange birds. They look like ordinary birds except that they have “sideways beaks” that I realize are exactly like the mandibles of a stag beetle. I feel a very strange awareness upon seeing this, an unusual feeling I cannot quite relate. I also notice a few pinned-up diagrams and scattered papers with various complex equations sitting on a desk. For some reason, I think of them as “byrds” with understanding of the different spelling.

We leave and come back into a different “time”. This time the place does not seem abandoned and one man is there to say that we are allowed to look around but not to touch anything. Going onto the carport, we see cages on the left. There are about three larger cages with strange creatures in them. One is like a peacock with snakelike features and it hisses and “strikes” at us but only succeeds in hitting the bars. I notice that our chicken shed is still there but built up a bit.

Once again, we leave and “come back”. This time, the house is abandoned again. We look around and mostly only find dusty ground and rusty pieces of metal. As there is not much to see, Toby T suggests going “as far as possible”. Johnny C seems hesitant, but we are on our way.

There is a strange sensation of moving very swiftly. We seem to be thousands of years in the future. We look out and see a strange sight. The house is very different (or likely a different building) and there are some strange creatures. It seems a “mother creature” is communicating with her “son”, who is standing near an upper-section-opened Dutch door to what looks somewhat like a barn (upper half open). They are somewhat human in form, but also a bit more like mostly white, living ceramic chickens with a Chinese appearance and with very small but defined simple geometric patterns (in mostly red and black) all over the large heads and smaller thinner bodies. They are making a sort of higher-pitched crunching noise to communicate by moving their “beaks” which is not really a beak but like some sort of small sliding door that varies in sound to how far it is open at any given time. The “mother” is somewhat wary of us, which is why she wants to get her “son” (about half as tall as “her”) and go inside.

We decide to go back. However, we end up taking a wrong turn, it seems (seemingly based on something Toby said), as the car goes flying westerly over an embankment and into Lettuce Lake. We all escape, but Johnny is annoyed at having lost his car. (There is also an idea that the land features may have changed when traveling through different time periods rather than solely misdirection.)

Notes on the bird relevance in this dream: Firstly, the living ceramic chicken (somewhat anthropomorphic) in this dream is perceived as being an incarnation of me (as the dreamer) at the “end of time”. It is curious how it is near the Dutch door. As a door represents the waking point (or shift in awareness), but here has only the top half open, it is a very curious reference to a false awakening (as well as a seeming invitation to be above as opposed to below - possibly suggesting rising from the end of the dream rather than the usual “falling”), which does occur, but still with continuation of seemingly the “same” dream. (Johnny’s car ends up in the water, which, even though water is often induction, is more relative to the “falling” waking transition here.)

Addressing the two other odd bird forms here, the serpentine peacock that hisses from the cage is a form of “captured flight” (restricted emotional, sexual, or spiritual freedom in the dream state). Even though the dream is very vivid, I do not become viably lucid. It may also be an association from when I heard that people thought that a peacock feather was an “evil eye” which may be linked to the fact that the peacock also had snakelike aspects. This of course is an absurd idea that I never considered as having any merit, but dreams utilize anything and everything (including the nonsensical beliefs of humanity) to teach viable focus and discernment. The other odd distortion, a painting of flying birds (which may otherwise be implied to be sparrows) with the sideways “beaks” (mandibles) of stag beetles, is relevant to the greater understanding of dream composites in general. The fact that these flying birds and beetle composites are only in a painting is a giveaway relating to the two other nonflying bird symbols and the failure to become lucid or resolve the concept of freedom. My dream self is not able to resolve why these birds are “wrong” either, only that they are somehow unusual. I even think of them as “byrds” rather than “birds” while in the dream state.