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    Memorable Dreams

    1. Tahiti Visit, Girl Made of Sunlight

      by , 05-31-2015 at 11:31 AM
      Morning of May 31, 2015. Sunday.



      In my first dream sequence there is something about my wife having gone somewhere and I am concerned about her return. At least our two youngest sons are wherever she is, it seems. My dream’s setting is quite mixed up. Even though I am apparently in Brisbane, it is rotated ninety degrees counterclockwise and placed in the Northern Territory (and as far north as possible in the particular region - apparently past Darwin). Not only that, one can walk to Tahiti, which is only a short distance, I think over a short bridge. There are a lot of people around, including a lot of Tahitians and activity at street markets, and it seems to be late afternoon. At any rate, my wife returns, seeming very cheerful, and she says we can probably live there because it only costs three hundred dollars a month (I am not sure if it is meant to mean that much for rent or for rent with every other expense).

      Later, there is even more confusion of locations. I get the impression that we had been living in the King Street boarding house in America in Leonard S’s old room (where I have not been for over twenty years) which would be impossible regarding the number of people in our family, but now we are otherwise homeless and apparently had not payed rent for a long time (which has never been a real-life issue). However, at the same time, there is an additional (fictional) room adjacent to that room to the west which was “always” Leonard’s room. The house is seemingly completely vacant, without even the owners being there, thus it almost seems abandoned and a place we can continue to live for awhile - though I get the odd impression that I had somehow been building up thousands of dollars in back rent. Still, I walk into the hall and am able to wave at Leonard by somehow seeing through the wall into his room, though it is similar to the gap between the lower wall and the floor from years ago on Rose Street where I have not lived since I was six. He seems only about thirty and is seated on his bed. I do not go into his room or open his door but I can tell he seems somewhat happy to see me (even though according to my dream’s back story we had already been there for a time).

      Eventually, my dream’s back story meanders around to where even the Tahiti concept seems wrong (almost causing my dream at this point to feel like a “reset”), as it now seems we could not move there anyway due to the fact that we need some sort of identification (to live there) that we do not presently have. This fact dawns on me when I walk back and forth from Australia to Tahiti a few times. Although I feel a strong sense of love for my family, my dream’s overall plot makes no sense at all from any perspective.

      There is a short period of time where I seem to be in a (unknown) school but it is not very clear (though it could be the building my oldest son had martial arts classes). My dream takes on a sort of pattern and energy I have never seen before to my memory. An unknown girl (or possibly a young version of my wife) jumps forward a few times on a wooden floor and I clearly hear the clattering sound (almost as if her shoes are wooden as well but I do not think that is the case). When I look at her, it is almost like directly looking at the sun. There are layers of light around her and there is an intense sense of energy as she jumps in a direction directly from where I am - though I seem either disembodied or implied to be lying on the floor a short distance behind her. It is almost like seeing with x-ray vision, though again, just layers of light of different magnitudes, though there is a very subtle glowing bone-like structure “inside” her. I believe the dress is white. There seem to be layers of “filaments” rather than skin and muscle yet I still get the impression that she is just an ordinary human which I am seeing under particular conditions.

      Updated 02-21-2016 at 07:34 AM by 1390

      Categories
      memorable , dream fragment
    2. Not Quite a Meeting

      by , 05-27-2015 at 12:36 PM
      Morning of May 27, 2015. Wednesday.



      My dream becomes a very formal scenario in mood and awareness. I am not sure of the time. It may be late night or very early morning or probably a liminal “twilight” setting relating to my partial lucidity (where darkness but with a clearer awareness and augmented sense of touch often occur). I am walking on the right side of the road in an unknown location, which seems more like a back road at times. There is a tall chain-link fence almost immediately to my right, allowing only about two feet or less space to walk on the grass on the side of the road. I do not really notice any buildings. Up ahead, I see a semitrailer truck approaching. The driver is mostly in shadow (or “is” a shadow - though I discern what may be a red and black plaid shirt). As I am semi-lucid, I would normally “know” that the shadow was my conscious mind. However, here, I get the strange impression that he is another dreamer that I could actually meet - and in fact, even presume his identity to an extent of relating him to an actual dream journalist.

      The semitrailer truck is moving fairly slowly, it seems, as if the driver is perhaps unfamiliar with the area (though this is not certain - it may be his regular route and he is just being cautious). I start contemplating what I am going to do. I decide that I will pick up my pace a bit and meet with the driver. The driver is to the right (from my perspective) and I am not sure he notices me though his headlights seem to be working normally. There remains a problematic element, though not fully prospective, in that the side of the road does not have much room for me to traverse, so the truck and I will not have much room to spare as we pass each other when it approaches (assuming the driver does not stop to acknowledge me or even converse).

      The truck does go just past the edge of the road at times (I am mostly walking on the edge of the road rather than the grass), though this is not due to lazy driving but seems to be a dream-rendered situation directly related to my thinking about the potential meeting or choosing to dodge the truck instead (as if I am directly aware of the dream-making mechanism of my mind). After all, I do not want to be run down (though this is not that strong a concern, though I do not focus on going to the left to possibly avoid going closer to it). I continue to watch the truck carefully to see if it goes too far to my right, which would then block me off with nowhere to go (because of the high chain-link fence to my right, which continues as far as I can see other than the break at the intersection I am approaching, which I do not consider turning off at). I sense the meeting will be very formal and brief but with positive results. I start walking faster, almost running, but the approaching truck seems about the same distance away that it was minutes before. I still am not quite sure if there is enough room for me to clear the front of the cab or be hit though the sense of danger is decreased due to my growing lucidity.

      As the truck approaches, my lucidity continues to increase and I become slightly more aware that the “shadow driver” is my conscious mind and that this may be a typical example of “shadow play” - a temporary scenario that occurs at apex lucidity. However, I am still intent on continuing my direction and meeting with the driver, as there is still a degree of uncertainty over who the driver actually is. Instead, when I reach the truck, I reach the beginning of the waking process and slowly wake at about the point I am adjacent to the driver’s door on the road’s edge, thus “meeting” my conscious self in the waking process.

      The shadow/driver was a metaphorical form of my conscious mind “driving” the dream, with the “cargo” (in the semitrailer) being the implied intent or foundation (“building blocks”) of a potential apex level of lucidity (which comes through various means - such as crawling through a window or “shadow play”). This was a missed opportunity, I suppose, though I have noticed that apex lucidity often comes when a person has already gotten more than enough sleep. The engine of the truck is also a representation of the conscious mind as within the life force of the real body.

      This dream vaguely reminds me of a dream from 1991 titled “Motorcycle Jump”, where the shadowy motorcyclist also was my conscious mind though this time trying to wake up after sleeping for too long by managing to make the motorcycle rise up and jump through a very small window in the bathroom (a play on “I have to go” as in “I have to wake up now”).
      Tags: road, truck
      Categories
      memorable
    3. Three Roles

      by , 04-25-2015 at 10:25 AM
      Morning of April 25, 2015. Saturday.



      I am working for some sort of movie production company and we are actively filming scenes for at least two different American caper movies on the same day, holding a camera while in a pickup truck and in other outdoor settings. The movies seem to have attributes of “The Sting” (from 1973 though set in September 1936) and “Paper Moon” (also technically a caper film from 1973 and also apparently and coincidentally set in 1936). At one point, the passenger-side door in front keeps opening and partly closing, causing the driver (a member of the film crew) to zigzag all over the street. There are a few other filming mishaps but nothing that dangerous. (I believe there is an incidental play on the name Addie Loggins from “Paper Moon”, relative to both adding production costs and logging in to a website.)

      There is also a subplot not related to the main theme. There are a few teenagers hanging out in what appears to be the last week of school (over time). A thin blonde male seems partly attracted to a light-haired female but does not always acknowledge her. This seems more as if it is being filmed in the 1950s rather than 1936. None of the characters in my dream are in any way familiar. I do not know any names in this scenario, either. A shorter dark-haired male is also interested in the same girl and at one point seems angry and sad about the other male ending up with her.

      This is where events become atypical, although I have had similar dreams many years back, mostly only in 1990. Over time, I somehow occupy the bodies of the two main characters, both the male and the female, for fairly short periods for each and with an extremely augmented sense of touch and heightened general physical awareness. During each change, I actually intimately feel their emotions and loving thoughts about each other even though they are complete strangers to me personally. It does not seem all that odd to me in-dream and it is almost like I am an entity that needs to “remind” them of their destiny at certain points by becoming one of them for a short time and experiencing life through their individual perspectives. At some points though, I seem to be disembodied just on the periphery of their physical body.
    4. Snow Business

      by , 04-08-2015 at 09:06 PM
      Morning of April 8, 2015. Wednesday.



      I am only about twenty years old and at my older sister Marilyn’s house (she had died in reality but is alive and much younger in my dream). There are several other people there, mostly relatives, including an older brother on my father’s side (Rollie, also known as Dave), another deceased sister’s (Carol’s) husband, and others. It seems to be morning at this point (though as is typical in some dreams, the time immediately changes later on to late night).

      I am not at all lucid yet still attempt telekinesis with a certain level of confidence (which yet again tells me that there is always a part of me in the background that knows I am dreaming). My dream is of a typical level of awareness but gets clearer over time. My attempt at telekinesis does not work that well at first, though eventually, people begin to notice when I point out how a book has moved. It is on the top of a stack near a doorway and turns just a bit towards me.

      Eventually, I am able to cause the book to hover in the air as well as move about the room for a time. It feels comfortable and effortless as usual. Oddly though, it is eventually discovered that there is a string attached to a corner of the book which leads to my right hand. (This of course is not feasible - as even if there was a string causing otherwise pseudo-magical movement, the book would not be able to hover at a distance from me, slightly above me in fact, with just a string linking it to my hand - though this is just the typical dream distortion from having no critical thinking skills in this state). It all seems amusing at this point and a few people get out video cameras though I do not feel that embarrassed. After a short time though, it is realized and revealed that not only was I really performing “real” telekinesis, I had also somehow “magically” materialized the string from out of nowhere when the book moved to land on the floor.

      I cause a few other things to float around the room including a brother-in-law’s (Corey’s) cap retrieved from his head, which irritates him a bit (and he makes a comment) though he does not seem really angry. He goes in another room to get some fishing gear.

      My brother Dave had apparently planned a fishing trip (and I have the awareness that I would be going) but he comes back in from the porch, leaving the front door open, and complaining in a louder angry tone about there being snow (although in reality I have fished in all kinds of weather, including ice fishing). I can see it falling when I look through the doorway (though would not be able to in reality from the angle I am sitting, as there is an enclosed porch there).

      Suddenly, it is later at night and I look outside from the porch door and notice that the front yard is much larger than in reality (with that familiar vague background awareness I am making my dream yet not at all aware it is only a dream), taking up what would otherwise be the sidewalk and entire street. There is about three inches of snow on the ground but dead grass is still showing through in many areas. I notice what looks like a small igloo near the central area of the large front yard, probably a snow fort built by neighborhood kids (though this turns out not to be the case). I soon notice that it has bits of dead grass throughout the structure. Eventually I realize it is (or it changes into) a beaver hut (at least for a time).

      At this point, several other relatives (including my deceased sister Carol) are standing around outside. There is a row of trees near the front of the house which was once there in reality though on the street-side of the sidewalk. A young version of my wife and several “copies” of her are in the area - some sort of lesser tulpa forms perhaps. I am able to tell which is the one I want (the most defined and attractive one) and she is automatically “bonded” to me in every way. We kiss intimately and embrace for several minutes though she sometimes walks away to work on the igloo/beaver hut/snow fort with the other copies of herself. No one else notices me at this point though I am vaguely aware they are standing around talking, possibly complaining about the weather (and possibly beavers interfering with ice fishing). Oddly, my wife is wearing a one-piece bathing suit and is barefooted even though it is very cold out. (Everyone else, including myself, seems dressed for winter, though I am wearing a lighter jacket than the others.)

      In the last scene, I feel very cheerful and optimistic. I move the entire surface of the ground and snow like waves, symmetrically from each side (with sort of slow-motion clapping motions though not touching palms), the waves moving to the middle to add more snow to the “igloo” to make it larger. I mention (to any relative that may hear me) how all the snow in the area will be in one spot near the “igloo” (which implies I am saving them from doing any snow shoveling later), which is eventually the case as the entire snow cover moves over the ground making the structure larger. The sense of correct perspective and size-orientation seems incredibly real and even the sense of moving the snow as such (by thought alone) seems “real”. For every few inches, the snow cover (and a small amount of dirt) forms a narrow wave (again, each side of me) perpendicular to where I am standing facing due east, resembling elevations in a vegetable garden, but continuously moving until most of the snow is gathered up (it is also as if the ground itself is forming parallel ripples at times). There is even a familiar awareness of the consistency of the snow in being either “packy” or “fluffy” though I have not seen any real snow for over twenty years.

      Categories
      memorable
    5. Alley of Dreams

      by , 04-05-2015 at 08:30 AM
      Morning of April 5, 2015. Sunday.



      Most of my dreams of today had various levels of lucidity, but some are too abstract to relate correctly. Being “inside” abstract forms is sometimes very comfortable, other times bland and uncomfortable (almost strenuous, in fact).

      I am in a typical unconscious state of being aware of needing to have my body on one side or the other, a certain number of minutes on each side, and a certain position, as some sort of important faux system of continuity, mostly abstract (almost like “drawing invisibly” or “painting” internally - even maze-like at times), seeing myself doing this even though I have not moved my physical body as such in reality - checking my sleeping form while disembodied and hovering above myself to see if I am in the “right” position at the “right” time, almost like an attempt to interpret myself as a letter of the alphabet that must change in precise rhythms over time, although with the sense of repeating the “same steps” after a time, which my body seems to do. This seems to last for a very long time (several hours), though likely an illusion and perhaps only lasting a half hour or so. This type of “pre-dreaming” or whatever it is seems more common for me over the last few years.

      In my main dream, I am walking about in an unknown city with “friends” I do not know in reality. It seems to be late at night. There is some sort of idea related to gang activity, but nothing dramatic happens. I do have a revolver but do not shoot anyone. The setting is ambiguous. I am walking through alleys but at one point, one becomes an internal hallway and then an alley again.

      Next, the most vivid (even beautiful) part of my dream occurs. I walk out through the end of a hallway into a sort of distorted alleyway and become aware of a thin young male sitting at what resembles a comic-strip lemonade stand. It is set back a bit from a large storefront and parking lot. He is apparently a drug dealer and in fact is sniffing a lot from his own creations, though seems very cheerful and passive.

      These in-dream “drugs” are small containers of various mixed colors of paint (which a person apparently drinks to get the effects, each color being slightly different), or at least that is what it looks like and what I instinctively believe. There is a very strong smell of paint in the night air as well as an odd organic scent, or rather, likely a chemical fabrication of fruit scents and such; blueberry, orange, lemon, grape, strawberry, and so on. I feel slightly out of place in accidentally arriving at this location (almost like accidentally going into a bar) and somewhat wary, but the unknown male seems very sincere in his service and asks me what he can get for me (inferring a particular mix of particular colors in precise proportions). I cheerfully say “no” (with respect) and continue walking. I really do not feel like drinking paint even while within a dream. At this point, when I look down, I see rivulets of paint flowing out into the parking lot from his area, which I end up walking on (the entire area is covered), all different colors and glistening brightly in the moonlight, swirling and forming multicolored abstract pattens. These completely random and incidental swirls of color flowing out over the parking lot and into the street seem hundreds of times more pleasant to look at than typical graffiti. There are gallons and gallons of paint seemingly being wasted in his business, but it also seems like the remains or “waste water” of whatever process he is working with. There is an intriguing calmness during this scene. (It also seems somewhat odd that so much paint has recently been flowing out from one small area - though not necessarily in a negative context.)

      Although I become more lucid, I mostly end up walking around without doing much other than enjoying the night air and sense of peace. (I am still not quite sure what city I am in.)

      Updated 06-19-2015 at 08:37 AM by 1390

      Tags: paint
      Categories
      lucid , memorable
    6. Mr. Kite is a Feathered Caterpillar

      by , 04-03-2015 at 10:03 AM
      Morning of April 3, 2015. Friday.



      I am in an unfamiliar outdoor area without many features. I am unsure of the implied time period. Apparently, it may be the 1960s, as I see young versions of the Beatles walking around though I do not interact with them. I get a sense of their innovation. I also reflect on how my best friend Toby and I could have seen them in concert in our teenage years if we had made more of an effort, which does not make sense as they had broken up as a band by then. I still feel cheerfully nostalgic. Even though I seem to be physically present, some of the events look quirky as if with film effects, including when the Beatles are walking and the frame rate seems altered. It might be implied to be footage from or for “A Hard Day’s Night” from 1964. Later however, the implications distort into also being linked to “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band”, which is from a later time period (1967).

      At a later point, I am listening to “Being for the Benefit of Mr. Kite” on a pair of headphones while sitting outside near a table. It is a very long fictional version, probably about eight minutes or more, and has random parts here and there vaguely similar to parts of “Revolution Number Nine”. The music has less instrumentation in some parts (as if one more instrument is dropping out of the recording every few measures) but at one point sounds a lot like the real version of the song.

      What intrigues me is vivid but incorrect audio of certain parts of the music. For example, near the last section, instead of the melodic flourish over the circus-like organ cacophony just prior to the return to the verse, it is the Dixieland air horn sound (as from the car on “The Dukes of Hazzard”). I hear this in the left channel. It makes me feel very cheerful.

      Also, during this time, I watch Mr. Kite, which is a black-and-white caterpillar made up of a long series of miniature “war bonnets” of mostly black feathers, each tiny “war bonnet” directly behind the other. It moves about on the table, seeming to be moving in time to the music; undulating rhythmically and turning about left and right, defining a narrow oval path; a surreal event.



      Update (same day): Yet again, a dream occurs that had imagery seemingly influenced by something Zsuzsanna had seen and thought about, something that I could not possibly have known about. In this case, it was specifically a caterpillar that she thought looked as if it had feathers coming out of its body, which she had seen on a children’s DVD (checked out by her for our two-year-old daughter) the night before. (I did not see it prior to my dream.)


      Updated 08-26-2017 at 08:19 AM by 1390

      Categories
      non-lucid , memorable
    7. An Alternate Timeline’s Derailment

      by , 03-31-2015 at 09:31 AM
      Morning of March 31, 2015. Tuesday.



      This was the last dream of about nine of this date but the longest and most meandering one. I am back in time, probably 1984, and in my twenties. However, the setting is somewhat like a composite with at least some features being my room in Cubitis (where I lived from 1968 to 1978). Other features (mostly the front) resemble the house on Loomis Street (Wisconsin) as well as Barolin Street (in Australia). At one point, I look out from the porch and see that it is nighttime. However, I hear some sort of lawn mower or hedge trimmer to my left at a neighbor’s house though I cannot see them anywhere (they are probably at the side of their house). I make some sort of odd comment (to a young male I am not sure of the identity of) about the area looking so clean that it looks like it was vacuumed. My comment is not really valid, though, as there seems to be large loose stalks of dark yellowish dried-up grass everywhere, in front of my residence as well as the houses to the left and to the right. Still, I have a false memory that it had recently been much messier, including with trash strewn about by the locals.

      I am in my room and am aware that one page of my dream journal had been tampered with. This is a memory concerning the time when I had large notebooks (over-sized binders), which were stacked on a table, to have most of my dreams documented on notebook paper in handwritten print (though later pages were typed). The page is separate (possibly freshly written) and concerns the summary of one dream, taking up about half the page. Susan R is the one that had tampered with it due to her apparent “playful” jealousy on the nature of my in-dream dream record (though also somewhat sarcastic and mean-spirited). I do not remember this dream from my dream record within my dream at all even though I read the whole entry very clearly (but do not remember having originally written it - and my summary seems more choppy than with some other typical entries of the time). It concerns some sort of meeting with Edna Pearson (a character from “Prisoner: Cell Block H”; a show that I have not thought about at all since 1986 - thus this fascinates me as to how such a memory could surface for no apparent reason without an iota of thought for about thirty years) and there is detail concerning a trip on a train and a chimpanzee. Susan had written “Hello Edna Pearson!” in cursive handwriting larger than my print and something obnoxious about me finding the chimpanzee attractive simply because I dreamt about one. There are a few other short phrases she had written about various parts of the paragraph that are making fun of my dream work as well as some of the metaphorical associations. I am very angry and crumple up the page and complain to her about her jealous prank and tell her to leave and that I do not want to see her again.

      After this, an unknown male and I have a conversation. This is something to do with having no more contact with Susan and going on to find the “mystery girl” (wife-to-be). He does not believe me (or in remote viewing or precognition) and so I tell him that I will bet him $1,000.00 that what I say is true. He agrees to a bet, but oddly takes out a one-dollar Australian coin (even though the time period and location is only related to America) to make the bet - and I agree (also taking out an Australian one-dollar coin to place it on the small table between us), though the small amount seems a bit pointless to bother with and I get a vague impression he is being skeptically condescending through this act (though I do not pursue any conflict with him).

      I see a girl outside through a front window when I am in a store (part of a larger storefront area) later. There is a chin-up bar station as part of an outdoor fitness route (relevant to La Crosse) that she is working with in front of the store with one other girl and on the adjoining sidewalk. I start to get an impression that this is either the “mystery girl” (with no memory that I married her in reality) or at least my “next” partner in life. She falls at one point and so I go to ask if I can help her. She seems very friendly and cheerful and I then note that either I am lying down or I am extremely short, as she towers way above me, goddess-like, by at least five feet (similar to the “Rollover” dream in 1990 before I made first real contact with my lifelong “mystery girl”/wife). I get the sense of an alien-like presence, but it seems like a composite of my real wife (in the “mystery girl” phase) and some sort of tall multidimensional being, though not bigger, just unrealistically (disproportionately) taller.

      I then go to a large shopping mall (of at least two floors) where there is a monorail track on the opposite side, the wide hall of the mall (mostly open along one side in one section) being directly adjoined to the train platform. At this point there is an awareness that I am making my dream (or “my world”) even though there is no lucidity at all. I walk through the very large hall of the shopping mall and note that the monorail train is approaching at the same level and is going to crash near the large rear entrance where the double doors allow access to a flight of stairs and the bottom floor, and it does crash shortly thereafter. It somehow derails (with no seeming cause other than my unjustified belief it will) and plows into the building, likely killing several people. The crash is long and dramatic (almost like slow-motion), with bits of glass continuously flying everywhere for several minutes though I somehow avoid the large pieces. However, my entire left hand is filled with small glass shards and bleeding a bit, which does not concern me that much. During this time, I had attempted to duck behind a corner and walk to the front entrance but for some reason go back again, fully exposed to the flying glass pieces. This is the most focused and vivid part of my dream and the broken glass tinkling sound is almost soothing regardless of the threatening implications.

      From here, I go walking through another part of town. Susan R is seated on what reminds me of the front of the Arcadia Post Office and the male I had talked with earlier is with her and seated (about a person distance away) to her right, annoyed upon seeing me again, especially as a blasé accident victim. She seems very annoyed (almost disgusted) and emotionally hurt and is seemingly not going to listen to anything I say. I stroke her hair with a somewhat authoritative dominance and she is very angry at my audacity. At this point, I feel no guilt or passiveness and understand that whatever path I choose (whether or not it is with her) is my right. I lift my left hand and it glows with bright blue light, slowly getting brighter, the glass flying out and any cuts automatically healing (with only a vague concern that the flying glass may endanger others - though it does not). I am watching my hand glowing a brighter blue as I wake, with Blue Pearl events continuing shortly after fully waking.

      Updated 09-30-2015 at 10:27 AM by 1390

      Categories
      memorable
    8. Intrusive Neighbors and Playing in the Sky

      by , 03-28-2015 at 09:28 AM
      Morning of March 28, 2015. Saturday.



      I am unsure where my family and I are living. It is reminiscent of the Barolin Street house but has more rooms, which are larger, in an unlikely layout. There is a knock on the front door by an unfamiliar man with his young son. Eventually, there are several unknown people in a get-together in our home. I do not express anger or annoyance.

      One room, possibly a kitchen, features ovular panels that have scroll-like and two-step-like areas on each edge with a large fancy hook in the center of each in a row of about six. The main colors are white and silver but there are small flower decals. I see a lot of dust and dirt on them and on random areas of the wall. I feel that I should clean the house. The presence of the unknown people makes the prospect unlikely at this time.

      Later, I am cleaning a room, seemingly the first room from the front door, but it also has kitchen features, including a sink and long counter. I throw out a possibly leftover lasagna dinner that has hardly been touched because it may have gotten dish soap on it (as well as dust and dirt) because of being on the counter near the sink. It was underneath plates and silverware. This scene repeats in an area perpendicular to the first, but I decide it may not be a good idea to throw out the second lasagna yet, as I do not want to waste money. I remain uncertain of whether it is inedible.

      There are conversations I do not recall that possibly relate to the layout of the house or relatives in America. I go outside and it seems to be early afternoon. There is long grass that is dry, brown, and powdery. I mention mowing but a visiting neighbor does not seem concerned about the lawn and mentions that it would be hard to clean up at this time and so I should probably wait. I tell him I will use shears to trim it. It seems I will be doing this soon. My dream is clearer at this time but changes again.

      Now it seems to be early morning, about an hour before sunrise. I feel a nice cool breeze when going onto the porch. I comment on it, saying how good it is. My dream becomes the recurring “nostalgic skywatching" type. I see a parade in the sky - continuous large shapes above the horizon, moving from right to left. They are possibly holograms, not natural clouds. Each is different. I see what looks like ocean liners, trucks, buses, and buildings moving across the sky. (The designs are abstract until I began watching more closely). I continuously say “wow” and “look at this”. The effect is unnatural (at least in conscious afterthought) though I do not contemplate what the source might be, thinking it is rare, wondrous, and possibly not caused by human activity. After several very large “clouds” (some rectangular) pass, an unfamiliar male neighbor comes out and watches upon hearing my loud expressions of amazement.

      An unknown female, probably the man’s wife, comes out. A child comes out. A shape, like a white cloud, appears in the sky. It resembles a person in silhouette in a martial arts stance. It remains in the same area above the eastern horizon (assuming the Barolin Street model). The female talks about how she remembers this stance from her martial arts classes. Somehow, she is soon "standing” in the sky in the distance, just above the horizon, not implied to be a giant, though the perspective and distance orientation is wrong. (The effect is an ambiguous combination of her seeming to be on an invisible stage only about fifteen feet away, yet also being in the sky far away above the horizon.) She somehow manipulates this “cloud” (to the left in my view) with her martial arts moves, “wearing” the “cloud” at times, though other times “standing” beside it. I do not become lucid at this surreal impossibility or even suspect that anything is unusual. This continues until my dream fades.



      Notes: My oldest son was involved in martial arts several years ago, attaining a black belt, also teaching martial arts for a time. This dream’s last scene is autosymbolic of vestibular system correlation, though projected. (That is, I do not feel any falling sensation. It is only subliminally anticipated by way of synaptic OR gating, my dream self with no memory of this very common dreaming and waking process.) I think this last scene has influence from a Harvey Comics Casper story, where I think a big cloud was bragging about being able to become different shapes but breaks apart when becoming shaped like a human body. There was also a “Timmy the Timid Ghost” comic book story about anthropomorphic cloud giants. “Cloud people” have appeared in other dreams.


      Updated 06-17-2018 at 07:56 AM by 1390

      Tags: clouds, sky
      Categories
      memorable
    9. Clock Gears

      by , 03-25-2015 at 09:25 AM
      Morning of March 25, 2015. Wednesday.



      My family and I are living at our present address on W street though it is somewhat different. The area east of us is more like a rural area with less buildings and includes at least one large empty lot. There is a wall clock featured that either is - or is designed to look like - an antique wall clock. The top section is octagonal (same shape as a stop sign - may be an association here with “stopping time” in a “wishful thinking” sort of way) and the bottom section primarily vertically rectangular.

      The clock is the main focus of my dream though we also have a garden where the shed is in reality, covering about half of the backyard on the far side. I notice that there are very tall healthy plants, not sure of the variety, that are taller than a person. I briefly contemplate whether or not other people will be annoyed by this in their not being able to casually “spy” on us.

      There is also a scene where a very old lady (unknown and unfamiliar) with a seeming cheerful disposition is smoking a cigarette in the (fictional) empty lot east of our house. I notice another cigarette (long, but with no filter) in a shallow narrow ditch (running east and west) in the ground and actually smoke it (even though there is no act of lighting it other than with my in-dream thoughts though I am not lucid). Although I am not a smoker in real life and rarely smoke in my dreams, the usual occurs. Small pieces of tobacco annoyingly fill my mouth from the tip each time I inhale from it. At one point, I exhale, and an amount of smoke far more than would be possible flows from my mouth as I sit on the ground. The old lady seems to be looking for the rest of her cigarettes which she had apparently dropped but continues walking east. There is also at least one unknown older male (about forty) standing around at the time on the north side of the ditch. (There is a very subtle geometrical redundancy as dreams tend to have at times. The cigarette lying longways in the small ditch is similar to the elongated drill-bit-like cog fitting in the semi-circular recess of the clock’s door in the next scene.)

      The scene with the clock is fairly long and complex. The only character other than my wife and children at this point is a black-haired young female “servant” (though implied to be divine or angelic, though without the typical mirror-like eyes in this case). She is the one that starts the idea of the work on the clock involving the refurbishing of three different gears. Other than that, the clock seems mostly hollow of working parts but is still implied to work well again when repaired. Her intent to “restore” me (via the clock) seems devotional and selfless (though my wife unknowingly triggered a Blue Pearl event - brighter than usual - when I was in a health-affirming state the other night, just with her mental state at the time from a different room - thus the girl may also represent a young version of my wife - also yet again supplying evidence that the Blue Pearl is related to either direct communication between real soul mates or an entity or mechanism that acts on their behalf).

      Paying close attention, I note that one gear, a slightly elongated cog that almost reminds me of a piece of a drill bit, is quite small and goes into the top edge of the clock’s “door” into a long semi-circular recess closest to the hinged side, though still has something to do with the timing mechanism rather than just the door uniformity and latching. Another cog is fairly large, about one-sixth the size of the clock and goes in the lower left side of the back of the clock’s hollow area. It has the typical inward-pointing rounded triangular hollows of radial symmetry, I believe five of them (likely representing the five fingers). The last cog is about half the size of the previous and goes between the door and the rest of the clock somehow, near the center of the back of the clock’s face. Apparently this work is metaphorical of restoring a certain level of well-being, which did have an effect on my real body after waking in a positive sense.

      This dream was partially a result of generic health-affirming work. Although it is possible to script, write, and incubate a dream exactly as wanted (at any level of in-dream awareness) in every detail with my own lifelong methods, I often use very general terms (such as “thank you for restoring me to maximum well-being” or “thank you for returning me to my healthiest state” and thousands of others) and no plot-based constructs in this case. It is also important to understand the continuity of these phrases (most people get them wrong or use incorrectly worded ones - as most commercial products have incorrect methods implemented which is something I have noted for nearly thirty years - though in some cases a placebo-based event may result with certain people). Supplements of the phrases here should be “thank you for my restoration to maximum well-being” and “thank you for my return to my healthiest state”. This is because other levels of consciousness process word forms in a different manner than the wakeful conscious mind, especially gerunds; for example, as mentioned in another entry, “healing” can have many meanings, including an “infinite now” of NOT ever healing (since ”-ing" implies ongoing and never actually completing).

      The smoking scene in my dream is likely related to a product I was aware of years ago and often joked about. It was a cassette which I read about, supposedly designed to help people quit smoking. The approach used in affirmation was completely wrong and ludicrous. It was typical of invalid dream-work-based or self-hypnosis-based commercial products of the time where negative terms were used and the focus on what was NOT wanted was implemented (for example, saying “I will quit smoking” is pointless at several levels).

      Updated 12-10-2015 at 08:52 AM by 1390

      Tags: clock, gears
      Categories
      non-lucid , memorable
    10. Impact (Visually Precognitive)

      by , 03-24-2015 at 02:30 PM
      Morning of March 24, 2015. Tuesday.



      As I have mentioned in the past, I do not always include the details of how the majority of my dreams since earliest childhood have (sometimes impersonal or trivial) visually precognitive layers that are too precise to be by chance. This time though, I am including the relevant notes, because even I thought that it would be ridiculous that a “miniature apartment building” (of the same size orientation as my dream) would be erected near our home - in reality, after a huge amount of digging right near the outer wall of our home ensued. In fact, there was no clue that this would be happening; no letters, visits, or calls; no warnings about this project whatsoever - and is now considered by us as the most thoughtless act we have ever endured from people, though at least we did not have to leave our home from old asbestos being broken up in our own yard with no warning (with the associated health risk) as with certain other families.

      This dream has a very similar fictional setup and focus as other recent dreams though this one is proven to be related to overlooking an actual miniature city (or model) - unlike my other dreams where it seemed a “real” city was oddly or partially rendered in-dream (so as to only appear somewhat model-like from the extremely high building I was in). However, the overall feeling of being very high in Earth’s atmosphere is very vivid and seemingly real at first. Eventually, though, again, it turns out that I am in a high building but the cityscape below is some sort of expansive model as far as I can see in two directions from my (fictional) corner apartment. I become aware of this because I see several boys running around some time after looking at the view and thus it is proven to be a model. It seems to be fairly late at night.

      The boys do not seem mischievous. I note with interest that the buildings and streets are very realistic for a model in some ways (primarily the layout and overall design) though they lack more intricate detail and color variations. One boy is about the same height as a model four-storey apartment building. Most of the model’s layout includes parking lots and smaller industrial buildings. I am still in the highest building in the region, it seems, though possibly only on the third floor at this later point. I do not question why a model city would encompass so much of an otherwise normal neighborhood or at least the one normal building I am living in. I am aware that other people live here as well. (Of course this “miniature city” correctly foreshadowed the NBN network. Small craters also appeared everywhere in the neigborhood which had to be filled later on and NBN workers shouted near our house for weeks, as early as five in the morning. People could not communicate by telephone for over a day.)

      Later on, it seems to be during the day. There are two bright points of light in the sky, one nearly directly above the other but by a fair distance (around forty-five degrees and seventy degrees inclination). Assuming the directional orientation is the same as our present real house on the corner, the lights are in the northwest area of the sky. One is seemingly a planet (Mars or Venus assumed) but the other (the higher one) is some sort of meteor. Even though it is a meteor, it is understood to be a regularly occurring event similar to the appearance of a comet. For quite some time, I think about its potential of approaching and hitting Earth. I even hear a boy ask his mother, “Will the meteor hurt the earth’s body?” At one point, I have a disconcerting idea that the meteor will eventually hit my building, even my apartment, though this is based on the ridiculous (though seemingly clear) in-dream assumption that I can tell what direction it is moving even though it is still only a small point of light in the sky. (Of course, in reality, meteors do not remain in one part of the sky as such as in my dream.)

      Eventually, the meteor does hit, though it is in the distance, directly north. There is a huge explosive impact; soil and debris being cast out in a wide arc. I hear a rumbling and an extraordinarily loud whistling wind (of a lower pitch), the nature of the impact (including the sounds) seeming quite vivid and realistic at this point. I am aware that this will eliminate all life on Earth though I do not feel that fearful for some reason. However, at this point, my dream quickly grows duller in awareness. For some reason my “last act” is to say goodbye to my wife’s younger half-sister in a sarcastic manner (with a slight awareness that her mother is there as well). At this point, the rendering is crude and highly distorted and ambiguous. Somehow she lives in the room in my sister’s house (on the first floor) that I used to reside in before coming to Australia over twenty years ago (she has never been to America). At the same time, I am still inside the fictional tall apartment building I had been in at the beginning of my dream (and on the third floor), but yet with an implication that I am also outside at ground level at the same time - a distorted trilocation event (which is not all that uncommon in my dreams).

      Updated 08-12-2015 at 05:47 PM by 1390

      Categories
      memorable
    11. Paper Thief

      by , 03-15-2015 at 10:25 AM
      Morning of March 15, 2015. Sunday.



      Although I feel somewhat as I do in reality with regard to some aspects of my dream journalism, I seem to be living back in the small squarish room on Loomis Street. There is a desk and large typewriter set up in the southeast corner. I am not quite sure of the dynamics of my living arrangement although I am at least somewhat aware of my present real-life status, including my wife and family, but am not lucid in any way. There is also no association with my relatives or older sister whose house it actually is in reality. The manual typewriter is about three times as high as the portable manual one I used to use in reality (mostly in Florida) and is a much older model; probably an Underwood from the 1920s.

      I am aware of writing out at least three dreams in the typed summary format I used to do on plain white paper back when around ages eleven to seventeen (in addition to the far more detailed handwritten entries where I actually fit four lines of printed writing between two lines of notebook paper as well as usage of the additional miniature black binder for the index). (However, also in reality, there was a point where my mother had bought me a very large gold-colored box of expensive white paper which also featured a large watermark on each sheet, which seemed a bit odd to me, as it was just slightly too noticeable - almost like undesirable oil marks, thus I preferred the cheaper paper, though still used the other.)

      As I am working and organizing a few things, an unknown younger female (about twenty) is in the room. I have no idea who she is or where she came from. She is dressed in old-fashioned clothes. She goes to my typewriter and takes all the blank paper I have left from the box. I complain about this but she eventually leaves the room, and heads out the back door. The stack of paper she takes is about an inch or more high.

      When I go outside (in what would otherwise be the residential backyard on Loomis Street) it seems to suddenly be in the 1800s and it seems to be a farming community for the most part, though some generic wooden buildings flow off to my right to the horizon (like something out of “Gunsmoke”). I find myself calling the female insane (mostly only after the people do not respond to my reporting her as stealing from me) and that something has to be done. No one else believes she is a thief or has any issues even though it is clear that she does. I tell an older (unknown) male that the responsibility falls on him whenever she gets up to more mischief (there is a vague association with Salem possibly regarding the late 1600s though that is not very defined). They seem to not know what I am talking about at all yet I still rant on and on until I wake up. I do not know where the “paper thief” went; I only see different people at this point, mostly on the right of my perspective with the male I am yelling at to my left. Curiously, the idea that I have apparently traveled back in time does not even dawn on me in-dream at the time.
      Categories
      memorable
    12. Nemesis

      by , 02-25-2015 at 02:19 PM
      Morning of February 25, 2015. Wednesday.



      In my dream, I am at an unknown location (though likely in Australia as some of my wife’s relatives are there). It is an enormous room (with many smaller rooms connected to it, some office-like) that is like some sort of setup for a business seminar - seemingly, at least in part, related to advertising slogans, television commercials, and catchphrases. My wife’s oldest half-sister is there, seemingly annoyed by my presence. Several times, I transform the implications of what is being said in the particular presented slogan (usually using the same number of syllables and phonemes) into my opinion of people in the region. I do not recall all the changes I make, but one contains the word “backwards” which indicates the people are backwards in my view. Later, my wife’s oldest half-sister gets up and makes an announcement about me, most of what she says being nonsense. For some reason, she says (with contempt) that I am a Mormon - and makes other ludicrous comments.

      Meanwhile, my wife is in another room, doing some sort of questionable and tiresome work she does not like at all but is totally passive to it for possibly a corrupt business or local government, relative to filling out forms or making detailed lists of other people (recurring dream plot). The oppressive authority of the business people over other people’s lives seems exaggerated in-dream, though in reality, it really is not much different in my experience. I decide that my wife and I will leave even though she is still to do more for at least two businessmen. I decide that I will protect her from this endeavor and the thoughtless intrusive older businessmen who act as if they own her or as if she “owes” them anything.

      Over time, though I am not lucid, I take on an essence that supposedly represents Gitchi Manitou and I am in tribal dress at times, with numerous abilities (teleportation, flight, pyrokinesis, infinite physical strength, etc). I even say “I am Manitou” while hovering near crowds in an urban area. During the time when the seminar part of my dream shifts, I focus and cause many of the windows to explode outward and I then fly through one of the large broken windows with my wife.

      Eventually, it turns out that I have an enemy. It is a powerful being in the form of an albino male with jagged teeth and solely hostile intentions, though he is somewhat jester-like in appearance and dress at times. The subplot of the two businessmen also becomes dominant at times. I end up threatening them, teleporting them, and holding them over an area near a cliff until they stop trying to get my wife to finish certain forms and lists.

      My albino enemy is intent on destroying me, but we are about equally matched in power for the most part. Clusters of knives fly at me but I reverse their path and they cut through him though do not hurt him (solely because they are his - an in-dream folly, of course). We fight in several different scenes near areas in a city and around crowds of people. Over time, I do seem to maintain an advantage. I also sing and chant loudly and rhythmically at some points, as I fly and float around (mostly in standing or partly diagonally forward positions), feeling very strong and aware. Over time, I apparently weaken my enemy more and more.

      Later on, my dream seems to shift into indicating a long passage of time had gone by. I am hovering inside a shopping mall, still having flown around a bit with my family. I see my enemy walking in the hall. When I speak to him, he calmly says “I’m a mortal now”. He no longer has any power or threatening presence and works in a carnival. He also has no interest in fighting me even at a human level anymore. Strangely enough (though I am uncertain of my motive), I offer to give him some of his power back. He seems a bit irritated that I would do this (rather than thankful - but then he had always wanted to eliminate me), but soon accepts. We even have a long friendly conversation, sharing information about our ancestry.

      Later, there is a carnival set up in an empty parking lot near a large shopping mall where he is going to perform magic tricks. Three random girls are chosen from the large audience. He has them stand in a triangular formation. Shortly, one is struck by several bolts of scattered lightning (the farthest one back at the point or “triangle top”), the one on the left in front is pounded relentlessly by “compressed” rain that only falls in the area she is standing, and the one on the right is fatally sunburned with visible sunbeams in her area only. All of them die almost immediately while screaming in pain. This does not impress me, especially as most of the audience just sits around as if nothing has happened rather than trying to escape this lunatic “magician”. I calmly take my wife to another outside area of the mall closer to the entrance and we sit and share romantic conversation and closeness as I continue to hear people shriek in the background, just around the corner of where we are sitting. It does not seem to bother me at all.
      Tags: albino, magic, warrior
      Categories
      memorable
    13. Trigger to Full Lucidity - The Guinea Pig Tells Me So

      by , 02-09-2015 at 01:26 PM
      Morning of February 9, 2015. Monday.



      For quite some time I am looking at old family photographs on my computer. There is one part where there are also videos below the photographs, several full-screen ones, but columned down the screen, all playing at the same time, which is a bit annoying. Still, I manage to learn of an unknown (fictional) teenage girl having been a friend of the family for a long time. Meanwhile, I realize it is a bit cold and the front door to the apartment is open (though we live in a one-family house in reality). The heating is working but I think of telling my wife about the open front door instead of just closing it. (It is the opposite in reality - too hot and with a fan on next to the bed.)

      The unknown girl’s name is Stella Womack. This is likely a typical dream distortion, in this case, of “still a woman” (the name being completely unfamiliar to me otherwise though there are people with the name in reality).

      Some sort of intense in-dream mystery seems to build. This girl had photographs taken numerous times with members of my family and at a few different addresses we had lived. Somehow, something is not explainable, yet I do not become lucid over this nonexistent person having been photographed and filmed for so long. Perhaps my memory has failed and I had somehow forgotten about her. I decide to talk to my wife and find out more about all the photographs. Perhaps I had somehow just not seen any of these photographs and thus was unaware of her all this time. In the last image I see, she is standing in the kitchen holding a guinea pig and there is also a small dog on the table. Oddly, she has her mouth over the head of the guinea pig, but not so it would be unable to breathe.

      My wife is lying in bed and I walk in and talk to her about this Womack girl. I remember another photograph of her standing in a kitchen. I clearly see all the hanging utensils and other details. My wife seems uncertain about why I seem confused over the photographs. She suddenly shouts “you’re dreaming!” From here she either becomes, or is replaced by, a human-sized guinea pig with its jaw hanging open and with wide overly large glassy eyes (with the impression that it was the guinea pig that had yelled and “died” or became completely still). This image remains completely “frozen”. Even though it feels as if I am wide awake now, as “real” as reality, I also have a strange awareness which is almost like coming out of a fog. (This is at least a partial result of the “thank you for telling me when I am dreaming” meditation - but to where it is now a part of my normal thinking - yes, all it takes is simple thinking, as with anything else, which transforms into actual belief and automatic responses over time - though certain mental patterns and “abilities” seem to take over twenty years to hone perfectly with light three-minute affirmation sessions throughout every day, many thousands of which I developed over time since childhood.)

      Becoming fully lucid, I wander off into a typical random “let’s have sex” neighborhood - fully aware that I am always the maker of all my dreams (both lucid and non-lucid - something I have accepted since I was very young) - and easily rip the front doors off the first house I come to and throw them into the front yard behind me. Three perfect copies of my beautiful wife are lounging around in the living room. There are at least two other people around, somewhere in the house, but I ignore their presence at first. Obviously, full passive cooperation follows as I sit down on the couch and have one at a time over what seems about an hour. Only one copy is wearing reading glasses, the pair she has used only rarely in reality. Another copy is several years younger.

      At one point, another male walks out from the hallway and is standing behind the couch, almost like some sort of brainless Sims character meandering about - as I sense no intelligence or consciousness as I do with my wives. I do not really feel threatened or judged but I am somewhat annoyed by some sort of incoherent muffled vocalization on his part (he seemingly represents the typical imposing nature of everyman) - so I somehow fling my arms backwards, grab him by the shoulders, fold him into a paper airplane, and fling him back into the hallway.

      For seemingly about twenty minutes, I relax in my dream between sexual acts, cheerfully admiring my dream’s environment, sitting there and contemplating how amazing it is that I feel exactly the same as I do when awake (though this dream is far more vivid and with more conscious “depth” than typical lucid dream types - as I am in complete “automatic” control and focus throughout). I look around the room. There is a small bedroom on my left side. The hallway on the other side of the room is in front of me. The couch (near the center of the room) faces away from the front door. At no time does the room change size or change in any other way (as is typical in non-lucid dreams and even some lucid ones).

      I look up and behind me and see at least four large silver wind chimes hanging from the ceiling; the same direction as the couch is oriented but arranged over the length of the room, north to south. They are crescent moons and five-pointed stars. The ceiling reflects the very slight motions of the wind chimes perfectly, both in the cast shadows and the silvery reflections of each star and crescent moon, which captures my attention for a few minutes, it is so amazingly beautiful and bringing a deep sense of peace. I briefly focus on how it is possible for the movements to be so accurate. In fact, I deliberately study the reflections on the ceiling caused by a particular wind chime and watch the very slight movement which is rendered exactly on the ceiling in shadow and light simultaneously - just as it would be in reality. This pleases me and I amazed by the correct details. I could sit here admiring the designs for hours.

      I indulge in lovemaking three times before the telephone wakes me up in the middle of my third climax. It is a sudden shift from what seemed like an alternate reality - but the speed at which my in-dream awareness drops and “breaks” and then rises again as I wake gives me a slight headache. The first lovemaking is “normal” but the second (in reading glasses at first) involves a delay as she is wearing at least two layers of very sheer white cloth over nearly her entire body. It takes a bit of time to “scrape” the pieces off into various small shreds and the visual detail, both bodily and concerning the cloth, is extraordinary - I do get most of the first layer off - still, I lose patience and climax on the outside, still seeing her darker pinkness through the transparent but grid-patterned cloth. The third act involves the youngest version coming back from the bedroom (though she had been in the living room earlier) and this one gives oral - the beginning being almost like a “vacuuming” effect on me and with the enhanced “tickle” and eventual beginning climax - but then the telephone rings in reality.

      In my wife’s dream, she was looking at lady’s pajama pants with stars and moons, wondering if she wanted to wear them - not shared dreaming but still a linking element.
      Tags: sex
      Categories
      lucid , memorable
    14. Underwater Treasure Hunt

      by , 02-06-2015 at 01:24 PM
      Morning of February 6, 2015. Friday.



      I am swimming underwater in the ocean, in an area between Antarctica and Australia. However, the map I view at a few different later occasions in-dream is incorrect. Relative to Antarctica, it has Australia in the same general location as where the bottom of South America would be in reality (rather than the other side). This incorrect concept and related vivid imagery does not trigger any thoughts of error at all. The map’s location is not defined; it is more like a dream within a dream that I mentally visit for some reason, though looking somewhat like a computer monitor. I am looking for millions of dollars in old coins at the bottom of the ocean. It actually seems like I am only about twelve or so feet underwater at the most. Most of the ocean bottom is white sand and light-colored rock.

      There are pirates rather loosely involved in the plot, but there is no conflict and the group only appears a bit later. However, there is one male who is tied to a weight or underwater object in a way where his head is just able to remain above the water. This seems like some sort of punishment (I am not sure if they are intending to come back for him). I try to help him while I maneuver in a small boat but am unable to.

      It is quite enjoyable exploring the underwater realm. I am still able to breathe somehow, without any gear. I find everything from fairly modern pennies to Spanish Doubloons, which I hold in my hands at times, some of the coin types being in clusters on their own in certain areas. I am “collecting” the coins and occasionally other items, which also apparently end up in an undefined additional realm, like some sort of abstract “pocket” location somewhere. (I do not see them again after I “collect” them - I am apparently teleporting them to a safe location where I live.)

      At one point, another male swims with me. I think he is the captain of a ship but I am not sure of his identity or whether or not he is actually a pirate. He may actually be connected to the British Navy. At any rate, he seems to have only mild interest in the treasures on the ocean bottom though I do have a vague sense that others may be exploring the area and taking coins and such in a day or so. I want to find as many as possible before others arrive.

      There is one smaller cluster of about five silver coins that are actually fake Spanish Doubloons. Several real Lincoln pennies are also closely scattered in the same area with various levels of brighter shininess down to dull coppery matte. The other male does not seem impressed by the cheap replica coins and I feel slightly embarrassed when I pick them up to show him. He seems to want to focus on these rather than nearby very valuable coins.

      Other than various types of coins, there are also old pocket watches here and there (association with time being valuable, making sense of time, or time in investigating dreams being valuable - being underwater represents exploring the deeper levels of the self).

      I am not sure if the submerged man is going to be freed (he possibly represents everyman or how I see everyman), but I greatly enjoy exploring the ocean floor. Oddly however, I do not notice any fish or aquatic plants at any point.
      Tags: coins, ocean, treasure
      Categories
      memorable
    15. Enhanced Kissing and more

      by , 01-22-2015 at 07:22 AM
      Morning of January 22, 2015. Thursday.



      Of all the “experiments” I have done in my life to influence, enhance, or alter dream states, I have ultimately decided that simple thinking is the key. I have tried a particular focused form of thought enough to know it is the most powerful technique, especially when preceded by “thank you for…” (without even needing belief in a deity). Just listening to something does not seem to do much unless it is with my own special technique and even that has certain limitations in certain states. Needing to hear something seems to limit certain states (plus, I have experienced a vivid lucid state where external sound and its influence is non-existent), likely because a part of the mind is still “grounded” in a particular way. (Once again, I should mention the lucid dreaming fiasco of years ago where I entered the most vivid dream state possible with a shorter audio loop, though once in my dream, solely tried to find the source of the sound to turn it off - the very meaning of “irony”). So what do I do that works? Three-minute very subtle mental affirmation meditations (not spoken aloud, just actively thought) throughout the day and night (sometimes in closer clusters), watching the clock and using an addend of four but only ever counting them as three minutes in my personal journal. In this case, it added up to sixty minutes overall.

      In my dream (and the ones which followed) I find myself in a full-body awareness that is no different from being awake other than the senses being enhanced and the depth perception intensified. This used to puzzle me - but I attribute it to being “closer” to one’s internal awareness in sleep. I have never had the slightest concern (as some people claim as possibility) about differentiating from the real world and a dream when awake - and in a vivid lucid dream, that concern is pointless anyway, so yet again, typical mainstream dream literature fails to impress me or even make any sense.

      I find myself in a dream environment in a larger room that I cannot identify, though it is similar in familiarity to (but much larger than) the larger southernmost room in the Loomis Street house. I am sitting comfortably on an armchair facing east. As with another recent dream, the increased sensuality, almost to a point where I would otherwise think it impossible, seems the most “automatic” and natural of all dream states, almost as if all nuances of my dream are “instantly surrendering” to a core subliminal whim. In fact, all I do is lift my arms up a bit and my beautiful wife materializes in front of me (only her head at first) and she bends down to indulge in passionate kissing with me for quite some time. The sense of touch is probably double that of reality and I am also amazed by the solid nature of her form.

      This is followed by making love on the floor, from the side and from behind, but holding ourselves up with our left arms, in some sort of otherwise physically impossible situation (well, at least for me). During the climax, I notice (as I have in several other dreams) that my wife has sparse reptilian scales around her hips and bordering the small of her back, which does not bother me. However, I soon take this into a forced scenario out of habit, relating to what I feel happens often in non-lucid dreams; that is, the dreamer forcing certain possible conflicts possibly regarding a need for increased “pulsing” energy as such for whatever reason (again, for example, maintaining the knowledge but vague memory that I was solely the one that instigated my own chase dreams even with dinosaurs following me, just to experience the event, although most people do not seem to remember the event horizon of when they planned this themselves, so thus you have people that believe in demons or similar entities - the case seemingly being that a particular section of memory was lost).

      My dream is not “fooled” though and I am too vividly integrated with my dream’s environment to be absentmindedly a “victim”. When I try to force a negative association for a dramatic movie-like scene, I illogically in the past tense speak to my wife, saying, “You had scales!” but she just cheerfully lightly laughs and shakes her head and levitates a bit from the floor, “rolling about” in midair and lowering herself again. I ask her “Why did you have scales?” and then I feel idiotic since it was me that gave her the scales in the first place. I try to get her to appear more aggressive, but that fails and she becomes about ten years younger and we make love again, “rolling around” in midair, at times like mists with various tendrils but I also become aware of where I am in reality.

      An odd false awakening occurs. I am in the computer room in Wavell Heights though the setup and room layout is different. My dream is almost as vivid as my previous but I am no longer lucid. There is a closed window near where the printer is. The printer seems more like an oversized typewriter. There are also what seem to be kitchen features in the room, including a faucet over the top of the printer (seemingly on the window sill as was strangely the case in our Clayfield apartment’s kitchen). I absentmindedly turn the faucet on (it is more to the right), realize that the printer is then filling up with water (almost in the manner of a sink) and then turn it off. The physical sensations of doing this are greatly enhanced and I briefly contemplate that real life is not this “close” in the sense of touch but do not become lucid again. Once again I catch myself having turned the faucet on in the semi-dark room. I again turn it off just as the water starts spilling over the top of the printer a bit. It then sits there still full, like a full sink, and I am contemplating when it could be used again. I then finally notice that the printer is plugged in, so I remove the cord from the printer itself, which is higher up on the front instead of the back area (this is likely because the back of my desk in reality is open to the path into the room as if it was the “front”). I then go to tell my wife about the event, planning on asking her to help with getting the water out of the printer by using cups, though this does not seem feasible. I do not think turning it upside-down would be a good idea, though.

      There is another false awakening, this one more intense, but ending up as some sort of parody of people who preach about the end of the world. Having heard about the supposed approaching “end of the world” in virtually endless scenarios since I was very young, any emotional impact or credibility has dissolved. I am watching a set of four smaller televisions in a column in an extended part of a doorway. Each television has the same show but with slightly different timing (this is based on a real-life event of years ago, where I was changing channels and noticed the same religious show on two different channels but one about a minute ahead of the other and I played around, sometimes getting unintentionally funny phrases with each switch over).

      There is a chubby preacher ranting before a live audience, loudly asking “What if the world ends tomorrow?” and he keeps repeating this for a short time with a terrified look on his face. I notice red flashing lights and other people crying out including a few from the choir on the stage. It almost seems possible that the world could end tomorrow but I do not feel afraid. However, he then shouts “What if the world ends the day after tomorrow?” with an even more terrified visage. This does not seem to make much sense as that would be one day later and less to worry about for a short time. However, he keeps going on like this, with his emotional anticipation illogically inverted, going into more and more preposterous and loud unrestrained queries such as “What if the world ends the day after the day after the day after three weeks from tomorrow?” seeming more and more alarmed each time, the longer the potential “doomsday” is from then - completely senseless. The audience keeps gasping and crying out to everything he says. I stand there in disbelief until my dream fades with a strong and clear attitude that it does not even matter if and when the world ends - why keep theorizing as such? This last false awakening seems vaguely influenced by the last scenes from “The Blob” (1988 version) - seen the evening before - where the traumatized preacher is shown as having the power to “end the world” from a piece of the life-form he has in a container.
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