lucid

Night of December 26, 2018. Wednesday.

Dream #: 19,000-02. Reading time: 33 sec.



It is late at night. I see no one. I am rapidly flying in a non-corporeal mode very close to the surface of a parking lot, with vivid concurrent awareness of my conscious self identity. It is most likely an association with the area near the La Crosse post office, though a uniquely alternate version. I notice several street lights.

I quickly and effortlessly glide toward a low-set wall of only about a foot high. Instead of phasing through it or stopping, I instantly rise above it upon reaching it and drop down to my original orientation after flying over it.

A male voice speaks as I approach a vacant bus shelter. The voice says, “We have reasons for being here. Our reasons for being here are beyond your capability to understand.”

I am puzzled but unimpressed and soon wake.

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Morning of November 26, 2018. Monday.

Dreams #: 18,970-4, 18,970-3, and 18,970-2. Reading time: 1 min 45 sec. Readability score: 74.



This entry contains content from three dreams.

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It is nighttime. I am living in La Crosse in an unknown part of town. It is freezing outside. I am aware of Marilyn (half-sister on my mother’s side), but I do not recall that she had died in 2014. She appears as she was in the 1960s. There is no factor of my conscious self identity present (other than my subliminal awareness of being asleep as evidenced by putting blankets around me) and no memory of ever having lived in Australia. (The non-lucid dream self, contrary to popular misconception, lacks viable contact with the unconscious mind.)

I am uncertain of the living arrangement, but I am going for a long walk (without knowing the backstory). I make several attempts to wrap two blankets around my winter clothes but cannot cover all of my neck. One is the plaid one familiar to me in real life and which I presently have in my computer room. (I did have it over my shoulders when it was cold.) I go back into the unknown house (though familiar to my dream self) at least once. I can see my breath when I am walking outside.

Although I have one blanket around my shoulders like a cape, I try to wrap the other one over the front of my body with less success.

That dream was caused by being overheated before waking.

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In another dream, I see an outer view of the Starship Enterprise (in outer space), looking at it from the front. Soon, I see three Apollo astronauts coming out of a square trapdoor opening at the top of the saucer section, near the front. Their size is far too big to match the scale of the spaceship. Logically, they could not have come from the space inferred. There is only room for them to stand atop the saucer section. I am semi-lucid at this point.

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In my final dream, I am feeling too hot, and I am wholly aware of being in the dream state. At this point, I decide to wake.

Trying to wake up is a bit slow. To do this, I absentmindedly become part cat. I have a cat’s tail and paws for hands, but a mostly human body. I try to climb a wall that represents achieving full consciousness, but instead, my legs and arms rapidly move in place with no results. At this point, I am virtually incorporeal but watching my other dream self still trying to climb the wall as part cat, part man in an exaggerated flurry of illusory physical movement, and I wake from here.

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Morning of November 19, 2018. Monday.

Dream #: 18,963-04 and # 18,963-05. Reading time: 42 sec. Readability score: 52.



Having fallen asleep briefly while sitting on our couch, there is the usual natural melatonin trope of the illusory sound of splashing water. Someone unknown had thrown a hardcover book, and it breaks the surface of a pond. This autosymbolic event is a lifelong recurring process that encodes my liminal acknowledgment that the wakefulness required for the reading of a book is usually no longer present when sleeping.

Later, while lying in our bed, an additional melatonin trope is present, this time as an upside-down surface of a water body about three feet above me (atypical). A whirlpool (vestibular nexus) forms. At the same time, I hear the sound of a helicopter rotor, though it is very soft and pleasant. It is as if a whirlpool and a helicopter rotor (without the helicopter present in this case) are the same. A hummingbird flies down from out of the “whirlpool” and cheerfully says “hi” in a young feminine voice (water nymph as shapeshifter) but as if the formant is a band higher. I am very amused by this brief encounter.

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Morning of November 14, 2018. Wednesday.

Dream #: 18,958-02. Reading time (optimized): 3 min. Readability score: 58.



In a previous dream including my conscious self’s identity and to some extent in real life, I had been building a more extensive paradigm understructure for my online dream journal as a way to make it more idiot-proof, despite there being virtually no evidence that mainstream humanity has any understanding of the induction, dreaming, and waking processes. I had been focusing on “personifications of” while branching into more specific factors of vestibular system correlation, nexus simulacrums, and melatonin mediation. During this time, my dream self loses most of its present waking life identity while still holding a subliminal awareness of concurrent physicality and a minimal degree of lucid dream state awareness to where only a sliver of my conscious self’s identity remains extant; just enough to deliberately enter the role of another denizen to experiment with the dream space.

The backstory of an upcoming wedding comes to the forefront. It is a transpersonal thread adjacent to the virtual foreshore. There is the sighting of an unknown groom of about twenty-five in my incorporeal glimpse. I possess the body of a man who is about eighty years old to sustain his role in attaining a sacred stick from a secret area for the unknown young groom (who remains in another part of town), maintaining faith that any other sentient presence in the dream space will not detect me as an imposter. The interconsciousness borrows pieces of a setting that I had not lived in real life for years, making sure it is incorrect in design so that it is not mistaken for having waking life relevance or the fallacy of symbolism that the unintelligent pursue. I am at an erroneous version of the Stadcor Street house in Brisbane. This version of the house has an enclosed wooden back porch, which expands over the area that the utility room was in real life (though the utility room was at ground level). Another male, unknown, about the age of the man whose body I possess, is with me, remaining on my left (dream attention orientation, as I sleep on my left side). I do not see the house as a place of significance, and my dream self only vaguely realizes that it is an illusory model of a place I had once lived. There is little of my conscious self identity that remains extant.

We are to meet with a man who is over a hundred years old, known only as General. Another man who is about a hundred years old arrives first. The four of us briefly appraise each other. I marvel at how wrinkled their faces are. I nod to General, addressing him solely and lightly with “General.” He does not seem to suspect I am not the old man. I feel comfortable in my fictitious role. He had stepped from a back room of the house, perhaps the kitchen in assuming that this fake house was somewhat like the original. The other man had come in from outside. My dream self’s attention does not focus on the porch setting as the nexus within liminal space; that virtual bridge which I had entered thousands of times in previous dreams since early childhood. Despite “General” being a military association with the preconscious and interconsciousness simulacra, I do not anticipate dominance by their presence. We go out into the backyard. It seems to be late morning. I am holding a large irregular stick in my left hand.

We all have walking sticks, but the groom’s sacred stick is just beyond the backyard in a cluster of trees. In reality, this would have been our neighbor’s backyard, which was divided from ours by a small fence.

As I am walking, the other end of my stick, still being used with my left hand, somehow gets stuck between two small cages (the bottom of one and the top of the other). I am not sure if they contain any animals. A big cloth is covering them. It takes me a few minutes to pull it out. The man who had been with me, the first one, seems slightly annoyed and moves to help me, but the stick is already out.

Liminal awareness had established that I was sleeping on my left arm in an uncomfortable position, which became a factor of my dream’s scenario, altering its potential. My dream self absentmindedly points this out, with the stick, where my essence is, beneath the cloth (bed sheet) and asleep, my waking self “caged” within the virtual lattice of physicality.

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Morning of November 10, 2018. Saturday.

Dream #: 18,954-02. Reading time: 2 min 26 sec. Readability score: 66.



I am looking at a map of the island of Sulawesi (Celebes) with its very unusual shape. I notice an isolated fictitious town with the name of “Core” that is otherwise where Central, West, and South Sulawesi meet. There are mostly only native inhabitants there. I project my dream self into the map to create the foundation of my dream. I decide I will play the role of introducing new opportunities and resources to the region.

At one point, I mentally create diced pineapples in a bowl and the tribal leader enjoys them. I reassure him that I will only allow a few tourists to come to the area only during certain time periods and that I will have my team clean the region on a regular basis.

At another point, several soldiers, all in black, come to occupy the area. I mentally create an army that comes in from a ship and wipes them all out.

I decide to go on a journey to Los Angeles. An unfamiliar backpacker asks if he can go with us, and I say yes. I enjoy the idea of a random dream denizen (almost as if I see him as “real” or having perception) being on my ship in my dream. Although the trip is supposed to last several days, we arrive there within minutes. I try to make the ocean waves more interesting. In the distance, there seem to be huge “curtains.”

I alter the nature and progression of my dream with the intent of increasing my dream state awareness. I create rain to sustain and vivify my dream to astounding levels (as water and its specific dynamics has always been a natural melatonin factor of the dream state). The weight and coolness of the water is incredibly realistic. I slowly fly in standing position above an unknown town in semidarkness. I marvel at the pleasurable sensations of the rain that falls upon my skin and the realistic, vivid sound of rain all around me. I fly slowly over a small canal with culverts on each end.

I eventually land and bring out the sun. I walk down a wooden sidewalk and notice the nexus simulacrum (personified preconscious) going through a doorway built adjacent to the building on my right but of which goes to the intersection, but I mentally force him to turn around. I ask him, “What is your name?” He looks puzzled and in a hurry. “What is your name?” I ask him two more times, in case there is an interconsciousness thread present.

I maintain the expectation that the nexus simulacrum may have a level of transpersonal intelligence that may not originate from my dream self.

He answers with “Dennis Sunimun.” I let him leave, as he seems late for a business meeting. Still, “Dennis” is the name of my brother and “Sunimun” is an obvious distortion of “sunny man.” I was hoping for something more, evidence of intelligence beyond my own, which has been present in certain previous dreams.

I reset my dream, with the possibility I will wake myself, but I end up in an offset dream of lesser vividness. Still, I make my way to a library to write down the event. I walk through midair, about ten feet above the street, with a few random people.

In the library, I read handwritten details in a notebook. I write “Dennis Sunimun” several times, but when I look each time, I am not sure if it is clear enough to carry over into my conscious memory and I try writing it again. Finally, I go into another area of the library and walk out with my family.

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Morning of November 8, 2018. Thursday.

Dream #: 18,952-02. Reading time (optimized): 2 min. Readability score: 63.



I become aware in non-lucidity of being in an unknown room in semidarkness. Marilyn (half-sister on my mother’s side, deceased) is watching something on a big screen. (I do not recall that she had died in February 2014, and I had not seen her in real life since February 1994. She appears as she was in the 1960s.) It is not discernible at first. A slide projector and another device are near me. The image on the screen is mostly sky, but there is a fuzzy pale rendering of a broadcast tower. I make some remarks about it. (Eventually, there had been some unusual thoughts about which times near the end of the year that Marilyn had been alive and when she had not, which makes no sense. My non-lucid dream self must have forgotten the definitions of “death” and “life.”)

Over time, I turn a dial on the device and the image of the broadcast tower becomes clearer. Soon, the imagery changes and is taking up the entire screen as a lattice of a broadcast tower. Simultaneously, my dream becomes more vivid. I realize that I can now create and control imagery, but I am not yet lucid.

I bring about the imagery of a tunnel to my right. It is holographic and about four feet up from the floor. It is a corrugated metal culvert pipe. My cat Smokey from over twenty years ago comes through, and I pet her. I explain to Marilyn what cat it is even though she would have known. There is something within my mind about summoning a denizen from the nexus, the space between dreaming and waking, which the cat represents. I realize that the broadcast tower was a deliberate creation to augment the dynamics of my current conscious self identity in the dream state and so I enter apex lucidity, where the dream state is wholly mine. Looking at the broadcast tower lattice, it now appears to have pieces of pillow stuffing in equidistant patterns in certain corners.

I summon a young Zsuzsanna as when we first met in 1994. She shines with internal energy. The tangibility reaches hyper-realistic forms, indistinguishable from waking life other than being more defined than would be possible in reality. We indulge in making love for a considerable time. There is a point where she floats above me, glowing internally, and rushes at me, this stemming from deliberate anticipation. There is a notion of a vampire theme (in a role-playing context, though horror movie scenarios have remained difficult to make as I have gotten older), initiated by typical lucid dream state frisson, but I cannot sustain the concept, as my thinking skills are too active.

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Certain levels of apex lucidity are such a different experience and level of perception and control it is like a different level of existence. The broadcast tower of enhancing the dream state seems as viable as the opening of a door (or opening a wall like a door) or the use of a staircase.

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Afternoon of November 7, 2018. Wednesday.

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



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

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

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

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

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

literal dream space thread

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Morning of November 3, 2018. Saturday.

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Morning of May 24, 1970. Sunday.

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Morning of May 24, 1970. Sunday.

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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Morning of May 24, 1970. Sunday.

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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Afternoon of October 12, 2018. Friday.

Dream #: 18,925-02. Reading time: 15 sec.



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

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Morning of October 2, 2018. Tuesday.

Dream #: 18,915-01. Reading time: 52 sec. Readability score: 42.



Dream state induction slowly begins as a stormy sea, though my dream self feels calm, peaceful, and cheerfully observant. Vestibular system correlation and water induction become integrated, though my dream self remains seemingly incorporeal.

Thunderbird 2 flies over the scene. Eventually, I see it on a rocky shore, oriented upwards at about a 20-degree angle. I perceive it as being only about three feet in length. Many tiny people walk around on the rocks, possibly checking its status, some of them probably from the model aircraft, though certainly not marionettes as they only seem about an inch high. There is no implied danger from the splashing waves.

There is an ambiguous transformation where I watch an ocean liner in the same orientation as Thunderbird 2 in the previous scene. It seems like a real ocean liner but is miniature, only about three feet in length.

I consider that the amusing ambiguous scenes are ultimately uninviting, so I semi-lucidly pull my orientation into a different state.

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The liminal association from a television series with marionettes (despite their replacement by tiny people) is an amusing transformation of the otherwise usual summoning of dream state denizens in the water induction stage, as a marionette implies subliminal, liminal, or lucid creation and control of dream state denizens by threads of the conscious self’s will.

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Morning of September 22, 2018. Saturday.

Reading time: 1 min 22 sec. Readability score: 62.



I am sitting in a wooden chair that is first in a mostly undefined featureless room, though with a vague essence of our present home. It is possibly late morning at first. The passage of time seems unusual at the beginning. Several years may have passed very quickly with a brief awareness of different seasons. Soon, it is in an overgrown field. A Twin Wasp engine is on the ground, a few weeds growing around it. It seems to be golden at one point.

The rest of the airplane is elsewhere in the field. There is a 1940s feeling, though based on movies of the time. It seems my task is to fly two ballet dancers (male and female, about thirty years of age), in white, from the area, where they have been for a very long time, living in the minimal ruins of an unknown region. They have still been able to thrive somehow.

Although they sit in the back of a small airplane, they seem to be mentally flying it as I sit in the pilot’s seat. There is a sustained awareness of motion. We move through liminal space of only vague definition as the sky. When I look back at the waking point, they are no longer present.

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Vestibular system avatars sometimes have attributes associated with dancing as a result of the subliminal, liminal, or lucid control of, or focus upon, the illusory physicality of the dream state, the fluidity of adapting to changes in consciousness as well and anticipation of the waking start, even through hypnopompic transitions when they occur. I began to realize this when I was four years old. Airplanes and virtually all flight-related factors (including flying under my own will) are a common dynamic of the process, being present throughout every sleep cycle for over fifty years. Not counting flying under my own will, mechanical forms of flight, such as airplanes, helicopters, and spaceships, when compared with birds, seem to occur with about equal frequency.

Gold always correlates with dream state vivification and the emerging consciousness factor.

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Morning of September 23, 2018. Sunday.

Dream #: 18,906-05. Optimized 1 min 30 sec read.



With metacognitive dreaming, I navigate my vestibular phasing response with imaginary kinesthesia. It has been my predominant form of metacognitive dream state navigation since early childhood. I direct my somatosensory phasing upward, from feet to head to uplifted hands, and request (and anticipate) storm conditions for wind.

I am a boy in my dream. The setting is the front of the Cubitis house, close to the carport. Jim (older half-brother on my mother's side, deceased) appears as he was in the early 1970s. He has a large book of information about a secret society to which he belongs. I read a paragraph about the requirements for mountain climbers and explorers. (This part is influenced by watching "Exploring With Josh" videos on YouTube before sleep.)

It seems to be morning, but the many gray clouds I called for are overhead. I tie two bedsheets together, tearing parts into strips, and throw the "rope" into the air. Jim tries it, but the other end curves downward, and the makeshift rope falls back down. I hold onto one end of the "rope," and I rise into the sky, about ten feet from the ground, the bedsheet "rope" mostly remaining vertical. (This was influenced by watching "Tau" from 2018 two days ago when Julia made a cloth rope to manipulate devices outside of where she and the other two were, though the orientation was horizontal, not vertical. It also implies I am seeking the thinking skills that only my conscious mind has, which is validated by the dream segment after this one.)

Eventually, I find a newspaper and roll a two-page spread into a cone. It becomes unrealistically long and pulls me into the sky, higher than the bedsheet did. The scene repeats, but I add more two-page newspaper spreads. Jim seems puzzled as to how I am doing this. My parents (both deceased) come out during the last minutes. (I lack recall of any of their deaths.)

I hang onto the newspaper "rope" and enjoy the intense vivid feeling of movement and flight as I remain in a vertical position. The wind blows me about north and south above the front yard. The other end remains airborne and stable in its height even though it does not connect to anything.

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