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    Memorable Dreams

    1. Ripples in Time

      by , 09-30-2014 at 06:02 PM
      Morning of September 30, 2014. Tuesday.



      This was a very long and epic dream, but with only a few clearer coherent parts left over.

      I am traveling through time somehow for whatever reason. I am with my wife Zsuzsanna and several unknown friendly people, seemingly from different time periods, both from the past and the supposed future. It almost seems like some sort of “wagon train through time”, but also like a tourist excursion in some ways. In a way, this is literal for the time being as we actually are part of a large wagon train moving through the west, possibly in the 1860s.

      There are about four or five wagons and several people walking or riding horses. At one point, a group of soldiers approaches us. They want some of our food to feed their own people. (This scene seems partly borrowed from “The Desperate Mission”, a 1969 television movie with Ricardo Montalbán - but it has not been that recently that I had seen it.)

      We are somewhat hesitant to share our food but decide to do so to avoid trouble with the soldiers. The mood remains cheerful for the most part. At one point, I become aware of a large storage area which first looks like an outdoor “cellar” of some sort. I go down into it on my own and look around. There is one opening near one wall of this featureless underground room. I think that this might be a good place to stay for awhile as well as store our food and belongings for a time.

      From this point, my dream takes on a very strange and intense vividness and perspective. Under the underground room I am in (which is mostly concrete or stone) is a huge structure supposedly built in the more distant past, possibly the late 1700s, and is apparently some sort of gigantic underground utility building (though I am uncertain if it was ever above ground) - perhaps once used for storing wheat or general supplies for a (unknown) community. It is like a huge three-dimensional mandala (facing upwards) of a fairly simple design. It is made out of thousands of thin boards and dowels as well as other lumber and seems mostly intact and creates the impression of a greatly enlarged wicker-like structure (almost like a greatly enlarged surreal Easter basket). I am able to look between parts of it, through a few different sections, and get the impression of an almost bottomless depth under it, into the darkness. The sight continues to fill me with awe and I wonder how people could have built this structure, especially underground and with apparently no stronger support (or places to stand on or be secured to while building) - even more-so, the fact there does not seem to be a foundation or “bottom” to it to hold up the rest over what otherwise seems a “bottomless pit” to possibly the core of the planet.

      Eventually, it seems to be related to a portal into another time period and we are eventually in the 1950s. My two youngest sons are there and playing a cheap handheld game, apparently from the 2030s that I think is able to project a holographic gaming environment around the player, rendered at various levels of opacity and translucence. People from the 1950s, mostly younger people, do not seem to take notice to the anachronistic presence of other things from elsewhere including the wagon train outside the school-like building we are in. I am aware of a red Cadillac outside, which may be our new form of time travel somehow, with all the members of our “team” having one. (This is possibly an association with “Cadillacs and Dinosaurs”.)

      My dream eventually decays into completely bizarre imagery. It relates to having watched the second movie in a series of three with the third supposedly being the strangest and the least-liked by the public. I seem to be watching part of it on the wall of the Cubitis living room to the right of the entry point into the hallway.

      It is the image of an (unknown) male’s face (which actually appears in a row with at least five or six others above another row which shows the upper halves of bodies) except that his mouth is from an emoticon or more like a composite of a real mouth and that of an emoticon. It rotates clockwise (as if through a software process) from being a smile but stops before making a complete frown so that the mouth is then sideways. It is almost like a malfunctioning “slot machine” but of radial symmetry relative to the “mouth section”. During this time I contemplate why I am watching such an absurd movie with my youngest sons and probably will not watch the third in the series. This may loosely relate to having seen people use the wrong emoticon for the message they want to relate. For example, I have seen people use random emoticons without knowing the meaning, particularly the eye-rolling one. I have also seen strange characters that do not show correctly in my browser, which appear like pieces of slot-machine displays.

      Updated 08-13-2015 at 06:26 PM by 1390

      Categories
      memorable
    2. One Quail into Three (see also “bird resurrection”)

      by , 09-26-2014 at 03:26 PM
      Morning of September 26, 2014. Friday.



      I am in an unknown room in an undefined (only partly rendered) home. It does not seem familiar in any way (other than having a similar directional orientation relative to the front door as the Cubitis living room). I am aware that my wife Zsuzsanna is in another room to my right. There is a tall thin paper sack, with a rectangular bottom, near the corner of a wooden table in front of me. I do not question how it has been many years since I was near such a sack and how you do not really see them around anymore (at least not where I live).

      When I touch it near the top to take it into the other room (where I believe Zsuzsanna is going to give it to someone unknown - I assume an older lady) it begins to quiver and the vividness and detail is extraordinary. I know immediately that there is a bird in the bag. The curious vibrations and papery sounds, almost like paper vibrating against a comb but quite augmented, flow into and through my right hand; a curious intense awareness, and almost, but not quite, trigger lucid contemplation or the potential of lucidity as such.

      This concerns me though, as I question whether or not the bird can still breathe, so I look near the top where the sack has been scrunched together to keep it closed for the most part and see that there is a space for a small amount of air to get through. This seems satisfactory to keep the bird alive though I am still inclined to look inside this tall paper sack. Looking into the sack, I see a large but sickly quail lying on its side. I am somewhat concerned about how long it has to live. I think about the reaction of the unknown person in receiving this quail and whether or not it will thrive from here.

      After a short time, this quail has somehow transformed into three, two of them quite healthy, but the original still a bit sickly. I do not contemplate how that happened, either. I sense that the original may still recover. The other two are standing upright on each side of the sickly one.



      Of the virtually endless connections and parallels with Zsuzsanna on two different continents until 1994, we also both raised quail for about six months when about the same age.


      Updated 10-18-2019 at 08:29 AM by 1390

      Categories
      non-lucid , memorable
    3. Return to the Pink Planet

      by , 09-26-2014 at 03:26 PM
      Morning of September 26, 2014. Friday.



      I am planning (in my dream state) on doing a “comic book page” of the most vivid version of my “The Pink Planet” dream due to its seemingly paranormal nature (relative to a number of things that are simply too complex to get into in writing). The concept of the “twin Earth” is not unique to this particular “dream universe” event, as it had come both long before and long after November 6, 1971. In one case, it was a “shadow planet” remaining on the opposite side of the sun. Taking a photograph of someone with green eyes (my wife has green eyes) and implementing the photographic negative, will cause the “pink planet” effect as well.

      I have completed the page in real life, after this dream, and decided to put it in my tumblr journal assuming it will be large enough to display the writing. In my dream, are new facets of energy relating to a “remake”. The remake is based on some sort of overwhelming emotional nostalgia combining the present and the past. In “The Bermuda Depths” (which ties in with personal events and other connections), the ending shows the turtle that was small during the time that the male and female characters are together as children, except now it is a giant yet still has the initials on its back. In this dream, I see that my wife, as a child, is blowing soap bubbles into the sky, one lasting longer than would be typical - the surface of the bubble reflecting Australia as it travels skyward. It grows larger and larger and “returns” as the “pink planet”, still with the residual reflection of Australia to “inform” me that she is on “the other side”.

      This layer was not extensively referenced in 1971 or earlier. I have done a lot of research on causal patterns relating to my main “pink planet” dream. Doing this sort of thing is almost like a sort of meticulous “surgery” to try to piece together how my mind is able to combine so many layers into one to manifest this type of dream. Much of this I have documented before many times. One reason is that certain dreams have earlier “prototypes”, become the main experiential dream in terms of residual focus to recur or “reset” (often in “mid-dream”), and are often followed by a lesser “sequel” or with partial parallels (especially when growing up), sometimes broken up into less noticed nuances a year or more later. It would not surprise me at all to learn if some people had the same “key” dreams, thousands of times, throughout all their lives, without remembering a single instance of the more important layers. In fact, I have actually seen plenty of evidence of this online, but will not go into it here.

      Firstly, this was during the time when “Pepto-Bismol pink” showed up in my dreams at least once a month or so - and in such cases, I even curiously reflected on this as the color in-dream, yet it still did not result in any trigger of lucidity. As before, I can argue whether or not my dream would have been the same had I not taken Pepto-Bismol. I also believe there was an influence from volume 16 of the Young People’s Science Encyclopedia which I had at the time. The cover shows pink clouds with a man hovering over a sphere and another one shown in the distance as shown in the image of the cover.



      Comic strips the eve before personally showed the usual odd synchronicity. Nancy “blows her breath” into a balloon to (sarcastically) “save her breath”, which is shown as a sphere, an act similar to blowing soap bubbles as in my dream. The other is Snuffy Smith where the two primary female characters look at a crystal ball covered with snow - this of course influencing the idea of the top being the “North Pole” were it to be a subtle symbol for Earth.

      Finally, as the most obvious cause in 1971 (at least on this date) was that I had seen “When Worlds Collide” (from 1951) 11:30 at night (on “Shock Theatre” on channel 13). I then watched about seven minutes of “I Walked with a Zombie” (from 1943), the second feature, but was too tired to stay awake and had already seen it a couple times by then. My 1971 dream likely started from around four in the morning at the latest, three-thirty at the earliest.

      Were it not for pop culture continuously shuffling me along and giving me “clues”, I may likely have still found my soulmate. The amusing “go to Japan” in-dream aspect as mentioned before, again was accurate, as that is where the airplane landed prior to reaching Australia, something I do not think I could have even subliminally known as a child.

      Updated 12-17-2015 at 11:28 AM by 1390

      Categories
      lucid , memorable , side notes
    4. A Long Journey with my Wife

      by , 06-09-2014 at 08:23 PM
      Morning of June 9, 2014. Monday.



      Now this is what I call a long and convoluted dream, but I will only highlight the main details, though even that will take a bit of space. There seems to be a lot going on here.

      The first section alone is long and convoluted and involves aliens arriving on the planet, though they are very friendly, it seems, at least to me. One alien male (known as a “malien” - pronounced “male-lee-in” and possibly also a play on a sister’s name - Marilyn - I had not had this particular intriguing word play before) actually touches my hand in a friendly way a few different times (not sexual; some sort of inter-species communication it seems and also an attempt to learn my human nature and “read my thoughts” - it also seems related to healing and at one point, seems like the Source itself and thus I am intrigued for a time - the alien seeming more friendly than most humans, though still very human-like in general appearance). This part of my dream has the sparsely recurring lifelong theme of jets pursuing alien spacecrafts (or UFOs possibly not of alien origin in some cases) at various vectors through the sky. I am readying myself and informing others of the possible explosions to come near or upon the building we are in, so it is time to leave the area.

      Later, my wife and I are together and I am showing her my dream universe, though I am only partially lucid. We visit my old home in Cubitis. We go near the neighbor’s house and she sarcastically refers to Lisa M as a “changeling” (in reference to a precognitive dream I had before making contact with my wife to be; my dream about the grasshopper creature). No one else is around though, and looking in, it appears to have been long-abandoned (oddly, by Lisa’s family, not the two later very short-term tenants) with everything left behind. There is a bed against the northeast corner of the front bedroom in the southwest corner of the house, an old dusty desk, oddly shaped piles of old stamp albums against the front west wall - with black covers (with some sort of multiple-half-bubble surface texture) filled with dirt and soot. However, when I look again, I see that it is actually a rollaway bed near a couch and there are other sudden transformations. There is a lot of clear, vivid detail even though the scene changes once, but still represents a long-abandoned home with all or most belongings left behind.

      This obviously comes from having shown her very close details of the house (from the outside only) from the Mapcarta maps of the area - and the place really did look long-abandoned (with lots of mold and vines over the house, even large long vines blocking the back door), which actually makes certain older dreams precognitive in nature, including the grasshopper one. In real life, I had firmly held the idea “no one will ever live there again” (my own anger and “abandonment” issues). After that, my parents and I did have two more sets of neighbors, both ending up going crazy (one younger male, Larry D going nuts and killing his chickens after having long conversations on a day to day basis calling them “ladies” - and then letting the rest go into our yard, and after a short time after he left, a female who also went crazy and had to be taken away), and then the house was empty for a couple years before my family moved back to Wisconsin.

      The next part of my dream continues from a more recently recognized “clue” I believe was given to me by the Source. In the grasshopper dream, there was a completely unknown white Maltese dog that barked at the creature before I woke (and the “same” dog has appeared in a few other dreams). I had no idea where it came from and never saw one in real life at that time. It turns out that my wife-to-be had been taking care of the exact “same” dog when we first made contact (though it technically belonged to a younger sister). This was only one of hundreds of more detailed “clues” that confirmed my lifelong connection to my twin flame. In this part, we are now walking along near a river on a higher embankment. My wife is carrying the Maltese dog for some reason. This is seemingly like some sort of long-term “final rescue” of the “mystery dog” from the very old grasshopper dream, like some sort of catalyst, I suppose. We are now even “moving to La Crosse” from that point, though it is more like instantly “jumping” there in-dream. Next, there is a recurring idea of having to walk around a very narrow ledge near the roaring river. We manage to get around, but there is nowhere else to go, as the bridge is out. I then suggest to my wife that we just fly over even though it looks problematic. The dog is floated out on its own through our combined mind power at the same time we make it across as well, slowly floating and moving over the turbulent river to the other side, going west now over the Black River area. Even though it was extremely vivid and potentially hazardous, I was not all that concerned since my lucidity was sharpening at this point. I reasoned that if I fell into the river instead of floating in the air to the other side, I would just wake up.

      After we get to the other side, there is not much to look at. Apparently, it is an old pawn shop run by Jackie Gleason (as he appeared on “The Honeymooners”). I want to get to the next room (as if the building is a composite hotel and pawn shop) but I need to give him some money. I give him several times what is required. It is a special rare one dollar bill. Instead of having Emperor Norton on it as expected in-dream, it has the Honeymooners’ Ed Norton character (Art Carney) as the iconic face with symmetrical arcs of fancy cursive handwriting in a few different areas. He looks at it in amazement and reflects on its value and rare nature (even though Norton was a “simple-minded buffoon” of sorts), with an enhanced nostalgic flair as only actors of that time period could do.

      My wife and I enter the other room but then the door closes and locks as if we are now in some sort of bank vault (it actually seems like a strange composite of bank vault and small-town jail), which makes me annoyed. A few other people are in the room, most with a 1940s gangster presence. I am not sure what to do, as it feels similar to a previous dream about “having nowhere else to go”. The door is of an odd design, though. It is like a Dutch door, but with the top and bottom sections being vertically maneuvered into the floor and ceiling and out again instead of horizontally on hinges. It also seems computerized or at least remotely controlled.

      I decide, becoming slightly more lucid, that we will attempt to leave and go to a better location. “Twenty-two,” I say. I look around, becoming impatient. “Twenty-two!” I declare. No one has a clue and nothing noticeable happens. I turn around to the west wall, opposite the sealed door. I then very clearly “draw” the number twenty-two (of the style with small curves at each start and on the downwardly curved bases as well) in the air just out from the wall’s surface. When I finish, the locked door opens outward quite quickly and forcefully on its own. In fact, the entire room soon begins to rise up with the walls simultaneously going outward from the bottom up and disintegrating. From there, my wife and I are free to explore a large peaceful forest with no more man-made features or distractions. It seems to be an enhanced, larger than life area of Coon Valley.
      Categories
      memorable
    5. Fetal Goddess

      by , 06-03-2014 at 01:55 PM
      Night of June 3, 2014. Tuesday.



      I am moving out into this astounding landscape which is somewhat forest-like and somewhat (less dense) jungle-like, and slightly marsh-like. I am fully lucid for a time. The beauty is extraordinary and breathtaking, and everything seems to glow with an inner radiance (such as when looking at a photographic negative and black shadowy areas become white “light” and so on).

      I approach this large sphere-shaped “cage” that may not actually be a cage but some sort of protective construct of what is inside. What is inside is an unknown black-haired female, sometimes moving into a fetal position, with a few items of inverted-clover jewelry set with very small stones and a silver belly-button inset item that is also like inverted (four-leaf) clover, but she is mostly hovering in the air (as if there is no gravity inside the structure), though there appear to be some sort of elaborate blankets and such inside as well; coppery and silvery, and some of a cobalt impression. The “bars” of the globe-like structure are at various random angles and distance from each other, and somewhat like a mix of spiderweb, silky and white “faux Spanish moss”, some sort of “raggedy” white felt, and some sort of pearl-like sparse “wire”. The trapezoidal space between these “bars” at the area of their most distant separation is enough to allow her to almost crawl out, I think. However, several times, the “bars” actually seem to be more like an energy form only, as they move into different uneven patterns randomly, similar to Z-like and Y-like forms, looking somewhat like globules of trailing spilled milk or perhaps organic or mist-like and tendril-like energy.

      I approach the “cage” (which is hovering in the air with nothing attached and about a foot from the marshy ground) and her eyes glow with a turquoise luminescence, bordering on teal and leaving a lighter blue “afterglow” when turning her head (most all of her eyes - not just the irises). For a short time, I touch her fingers (the “bars” feel like some sort of algae-like texture blended with felt and I almost get the impression of quickly fizzing small bubbles on the surface) and feel a mild current of electricity that is just on the threshold of causing numbness. I ask her who she is and she simply stretches out her legs and floats upward more and I hear this sound like pool balls continuously hitting each other but slightly softer. She blows a kiss (or similar - it seems more like she is “sending energy”), but with her hand at the right side of her mouth in a vertical position rather than the typical horizontal and fingers forward extension.

      A group of “tourists” are absentmindedly walking by, a couple nearly tripping on blades of grass (which really is not that long) giving the impression that it is their first time walking on grass or earth. I notice a large lion a short distance away. It opens its mouth, its tongue comes out (becoming a “red carpet”) and it sort of lies down on its stomach and appears more like some sort of ancient building for a time. I look inside of its mouth from a closer position and notice it is like looking into a passageway of stone blocks and there even seems to be torches higher on the “walls” inside.

      The casually-dressed “leader” of the tourist group indicates that all the people (about fifteen or so) should follow him into the “building”. They walk into the “doorway” and turn down the implied hallway inside until they are all out of view. The lion then closes his mouth, blinks sleepily and begins to wash itself like a young cat and starts purring. I walk up to the lion and look into his eyes as if they were like a pair of binoculars. The people inside seem to be lost and confused and looking for the exit. Oh well… “Oh the humanity” I cheerfully joke, and start rolling on the ground laughing…

      Updated 06-15-2015 at 01:25 PM by 1390 (Enhancement)

      Tags: goddess
      Categories
      lucid , memorable
    6. The Interdimensional Girl

      by , 05-28-2014 at 11:28 AM
      Morning of May 28, 2014. Wednesday.



      I am on my way to a supposed meeting with an unknown male. I am not sure why. It seems to relate to some sort of business, perhaps even the local black market.

      I end up talking to a male who had been sleeping against a concrete wall on a shabby makeshift bed in a cul-de-sac area near a large shopping mall. He is rather large and stocky. Even though he appears to be homeless, he also seems to have enough finances to eat fairly well, though he is dressed informally in shabby clothes. Over time, another male is in the area and also talks with him. The other male does not seem homeless.

      The unkempt homeless man seems like a sort of scavenger and street-opportunist and also talks about stealing jewelry and anything else of value from various females who shop in the region. Apparently he has not been caught, although his present sleeping conditions actually seem worse than those of some jails.

      Eventually, a young female seems to literally step out of my body as if my body was some sort of “portal” for interdimensional travelers. She is dressed in old-fashioned clothes, almost ballroom-like and she regards the other males curiously. The homeless male asks to see more of her necklace and the girl lifts up the chain so that a larger pendant rises up from behind her fancy lacy blouse.

      From here, things go a bit stranger. The rays of light coming from the pendant are too bright to directly look at and there is a very slight audio effect that is somewhat wind-chime-like, almost inaudible, and with a very low-volume higher-pitched continuous tone “matching” it - seeming like two isolated higher frequency bands (with no spanning broadband ranges), but again, almost inaudible. In fact, the rays extend a fair distance, possibly reaching two or three city blocks away. The homeless man covers his eyes a bit but still tries to see the girl and the necklace yet all that is visible for the most part is bluish white light. The girl starts to make fun of human beings (even though she looks like a normal human being herself) and what they do and how they move, seemingly with great pleasure and miming and continues on like…

      “Oh look I’m a human; I can walk around on two legs. Then I can sit down. Then I can stand up and oh look I can walk around on two legs again. Then I can sit or stand…”

      “Do I have a brain? Yes, I do, but only in my head; I can’t see or even guess what is ahead in my future very far and oh look, let’s just walk into this wall since we didn’t see it coming” (mimics walking into a wall).

      “And, oh look, now that I have walked into a wall, I guess I will sleep here from now on with my two legs. But sometimes I will sit or stand and then walk again…”

      This is likely exasperating for the other two males but I do not mind it so much. Eventually, an additional normal-looking male (except for the fact that he seems dressed as a swashbuckler) begins to appear in various “pieces” in a holographic form about five feet from our little group…not fully forming by the time I wake. I get the vague impression that it could be a holographic “shell” that I may inhabit when going off for a time with this being.


      Updated 04-08-2018 at 10:25 AM by 1390

      Categories
      non-lucid , memorable
    7. Gathering Stars

      by , 05-19-2014 at 08:07 PM
      Morning of May 19, 2014. Monday.



      There is some sort of bizarre sound pulsing like a drawn out male soprano “Weeeeee” (pause) “Weeeeee” (pause) “Weeeeee” in groups of three as such, but a bit layered sounding, as with some sort of extreme detuning effect. I am not sure what this is. It is not a main part of the dream scene, I do not think. Maybe this is going on in another classroom.

      This is my fear and moment of pure eeriness. This is reality pausing from negative infinity. When I was six and the bell rang while I was in the basement sports arena, the children running down the flights of stairs which I heard through the doorway of the basketball court always painted an image of terrifying violent geese and the coach seemed like some sort of eerie giant ogre who could pick me up and throw me like a paper airplane at any moment. “That is not how you bounce the ball!” he screams at me, and then does a comedic impression of me bending down and bouncing the ball with only a few inches to spare in the bounce. So much for me trying to look cool. I guess the giant pale buffoon and child-terrorizer never heard of the Harlem Globetrotters. And so I was kept an extra hour and missed math class because this big pale buffoon thought I had a disability and was uncoordinated. Thanks a lot, Harlem Globetrotters…

      Charlie Brown is an accident victim, apparently, and a real human being. I am not a child, but neither is Charlie Brown. We seem to be back in school near where I lived on Rose Street. There is a lot of construction paper around as well as bottles of glue, pipe cleaners, and crayons. Charlie Brown seems a bit of a disturbed soul, as if he is planning some sort of revenge. He is wearing the same shirt as always. There seem to be (briefly?) Q-Tips sparsely stuck in his hair, which has something to do with using them to lightly use glue on something. The shirt is as it is, in design, because it is the same shirt as he wore during his accident and never changed it. The black pattern across his yellow top is actually a tire track! (Who would have thought?)

      He did not die after lying in the street for days. He finally got up and returned to his life’s routine. (“Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger”.)

      The class project is of outer space. A lot of stars have been cut out, as well as Saturns and crescent moons.

      My area is the “fanciest” (to the far left) for a time. An unknown girl, oddly dressed - sort of like Cat Woman - is also working on the project. I then focus on the fact that she was the “cat burglar” all those years ago on Rose Street. I say “Oh it’s you” and she replies, “Yes it’s me. I have been with you always.” Looking closer, I see it is my wife at around age eighteen. I point and say “Oh look, it’s her…” No one cares. She is not of their path.

      Something dawns on me and I approach Charlie Brown. I tell him about a real-life experience, during that exact same time period around the time the “cat girl” was a dream friend. I had been crossing the street while a deck of educational mathematics cards (Whitman flashcards) had fallen from my notebook binder. A few of the cards blew over the street near the intersection and one car ran over one of them. The crossing guard eventually came over and waited until I was able to pick up all the cards, holding off the oncoming traffic. The card with the “two plus two” pattern had a diagonal smudge of dirt across it from the tire of a car that had ran over it. For some reason, I kept these cards until I was about thirty and gave them to my brother Earl’s kids even though they had stress and fold marks. Having returned later on, I had seen them in a large bag filled with rubbish, but did not reclaim them.

      I have a false memory of the crossing guard coming out (who was a very chubby female, who looked almost squarish in her uniform) and looking at me and saying “There is a lot you do not remember, Sparks.” Her eyes glow silvery blue. This is a nickname from “Contact” (1997) said by the David Morse character who played the Source in one of my last dreams. I “return” from this “memory” and say to Charlie how I can relate very well to him, implying the tire mark on that card is like the tire mark across his shirt and he looks at me with disdain. He turns around and starts spinning, yelling “I’m gonna be shot outta the cannon!” I look a little closer at his face and notice it is dirty, and his nose is running with the top part of his mouth covered in mucous.

      He runs and tears most of the middle section of the space display section (while holding onto the first edge), ripping it across. “All lies!” He says “These aren’t real stars!” For a moment, he looks like the cartoon Charlie brown. He huffs and puffs, running and jogging in short increments as he goes across the room.

      Somehow, in no time, he is immediately (more like instantly) in the cannon with his head sticking out. Ed Sullivan’s voice announces “Presenting…a really big shoe…Charlie Brown…the human…cannonball…” The fuse is lit and out and up he goes, like a rocket.

      Charlie Brown has high goals. People look and point. It is wonderful for Charlie to go out among the real stars - as he tore up the class project because it was not “real” for him. People are still annoyed. Suddenly terror breaks out. He “pops” in a fizzled shower of small fireworks, fading fairly quickly. The “cat woman” and I kiss intimately, rising into the air and glowing and going higher and higher.
      Categories
      memorable
    8. Sensual Bliss, Enhanced Sense of Touch, Infinite Peace

      by , 05-18-2014 at 11:18 AM
      Morning of May 18, 2014. Sunday.



      In the first section of the dream, I am with my wife and we are outside in some sort of unusual version of the backyard in Cubitis. Oddly, more to the east, is some sort of unusual version of my sister Marilyn’s house. As is often the case, this composite is unique, not having been a (fictional) location in any other dream. I am only semi-lucid at this point. My youngest son is playing in a narrow ditch oriented east-west. It is a warm day. A black male and his wife and younger son (about the same age as my youngest son) fly down and land farther to the east in a helicopter. Although he carries a gun (possibly just for protection), there does not seem to be any threat.

      Meanwhile, I hold my hands up and forward and water emerges with a large amount of force from the palms of my hands and fills the ditch in a short time so that my son can swim in it. Over time, I do unusual tricks with the water; I somehow will the water (with a sequence of hand motions similar to portal rituals) to come up to make a temporary translucent “wall” and enjoy other variations of forms, seeming to have full control of the water molecules. My wife and I enjoy the imagery as I work with shaping the water molecules into various forms, including cylindrical and conical forms that hover in the air for a short time before falling back into the body of water as dispersed drops and with very vivid and clear splashes.

      The other man and his family watch for a time. Later, we are sitting on the porch and enjoying a bit of a “magic show” I do, but it mostly only relates to smaller things, such as restoring torn apart envelopes, and restoring teeth broken off a comb. Once I restore everything in the immediate environment, the family starts to leave in the helicopter. However, at this point, my wife says that the pilot and a couple other males are stealing the barbecue she had bought for a neighbor as a birthday present, so, without them noticing I mentally float the box to about roof level and manage to get it on its way by going a little higher and to the back of our house and beyond, assuming it will reach its destination.

      The first part of the next section starts with me being in the large, fancy bedroom of a seemingly unknown house. My sister and her husband are there. Apparently, my wife has transformed into some sort of in-dream entity and is much younger, a bit thin (but not unattractively so) and with a more powerful, yet more youthful voice and longer hair. My sister seems to know my wife’s family and how she was “adopted” (she was not in real life) and in fact, had taken over her adoption at one point in the past. This may seem strange, but it directly relates to a dream I had before meeting my wife where she moved past the windows of my room and was then having a very long conversation with my sister (when she was still alive) about me (seemingly not knowing I was watching them), which I will write about later.

      I start to feel a change within myself, unlike any I have felt before. It is as if I am the origin of consciousness. There is talk about how people who are “not human” - which implies myself and my wife, have to pretend so much to be of a certain consensus and state of mind for a time to “get along” with humans.

      I hold out my right hand to show my brother-in-law a trick. Being able to create fire, air, water (and in the past, grains of dirt) from the palms of my hands, a typical dream ability for me, I focus and “allow” a large reddish-orange flame to move up and grow in size and then after a “whooshing” sound, it fades. I do this a couple times. My brother-in-law explains that he is actually like me in the sense of not being human, and explains that he has to pretend not to be made of ice (apparently being an “ice elemental”). (In real life his IQ was only around 70 and he could not read or write - but sometimes pretended to and often ended up giving letters to the wrong people and pretended to read a newspaper at times - but he still worked long and hard for many years.) Unfortunately, he sounds even less intelligent (entering that Roger-Miller-like intellectual disability but in baritone) showing his “true” ice elemental form than his human form, which I say nothing about and just sort of go along with it.

      My sister and her husband are going out, and it dawns on me that this means I am the Source. It is my dream alone. The affirmations I have developed this year have incredible power (and I have learned they affect other people), and it looks like the “gate” was finally “opened”. I am in a state of sensual bliss and peace before I even actively indulge in sensual bliss directly. The thought amuses me greatly. Obviously, there is only one thing to do…

      I ask my wife in her present form if she had ever been with a male before and she says “yes” quite passively yet with a discernible degree of assertiveness of experience - which seems quite odd, because the question seems metaphorical and she has only just recently been “born” into the world (and having “instant intelligence” as with the formation of tulpa-based dream character development I had started a few months back). Still, that does not seem to matter. Her name has transformed into “Sharon Rabbit”. I suppose this sounds hilarious because it sounds like a play on “sharing a rabbit”. She has a middle name that I see on an adoption document - and it starts with “C” - but I am not positive of what it is - it looks a bit like “comely” at one point. Sharon Comely Rabbit. Dreams certainly lack more realistic names, do they not? However, I can be certain there really are people called Sharon Rabbit, so ignore my blathering here. (In fact, I had made some sort of remark to my sister about why the surname was “Rabbit” which seemed to relate to having more children than average.)

      We lie down on the bed (and the scene plays out almost as if exactly planned but this dream was not scripted at all), and from there, it is a bit too personal to go into the diverse details. I can make notes on some things. The sense of touch (in fact, all senses) was more vivid and intense than in real life as well as being more “focused”. Her silky flowing hair was like intoxicating perfume, building in layers of bliss (almost like a growing echo upon echo effect in sound until it grows into one roaring peak - which modern digital equipment cannot even begin to handle like the old analogue did), and her voice was so harmonious, flowing, and sensual, it flowed into my body and out again as if my body was like a speaker cone or amplifier (rendering most other human voices I have heard in real life seem dull and annoying in comparison - but I suppose that was the attraction in the first place in reality), very hard to put into words (this seems to have been foreshadowed by the dream where my wife’s skin had “ripples” and “waves” like the ocean). There was such a realistic sense of physical connection and orientation - it is also hard to put into words. Even so, this precise level of size orientation and audio and even location did not reflect anything ever experienced in this manner dream-wise. (Often my dreams have odd distortions in size, by magnification or shrinking - often being that my hands seem magnified and cars seem way too small to be able to get into - in the past, houses were sometimes like this, and there are often changes in distance perception as well.) From here, my wife’s real voice joins with the “vibrations” of the in-dream one and I am instantly awake with no discernible difference in perception.

      I have validated my work fully and now understand how to do it whenever I want - I guess once again, simple “knowing” and the practice of such paid off (over twenty years more intensely working with word patterns and various types of phrasing and focus at various levels). I thought something was different last night, when I was doing “sending affirmations” (for about six hours - the amount of time some people spend passively watching television, unfortunately) in still states and getting more than the usual “feedback”, almost audibly - often, this “feedback” has a few “negative phrases” or “denial responses” that imply duality such as id and ego boundaries - or seemingly telepathic “break-ins” by other people which are really annoying, but this time, there were none at all. This dream was probably the most “stable” I have had to date and not only that, I was fully myself with no distortions of mood or emotion. My true self, I suppose. Full unity.

      Updated 06-16-2015 at 06:46 AM by 1390 (Enhancement)

      Categories
      lucid , memorable
    9. The Defacing of the Fake Dream Book

      by , 04-30-2014 at 12:28 PM
      Morning of April 30, 2014. Wednesday.



      I am back at the main library in La Crosse, though it seems a bit bigger than in reality. I find a table to sit at, at the southwestern corner. An unknown girl (high school or college), in blue jeans and a white top, on my left, says “hi” in a friendly manner and goes back to reading an orange hardcover book on chemistry, which has an embossed image of a water molecule on the cover but for some reason seems to have “familiar” circus poster motifs as well (such as the band of two-color alternating triangles) - yet it seems quite right in design and context somehow. The table (and perhaps the area itself) has a strange “ancient” atmosphere, like very old Sequoia trees in the back of my mind, or some such. The wood seems to have some sort of “electrical field” or “magic” of some kind, which seems to make a barely visible “aura” about it similar to the atmosphere of the planet. The girl seems to have read my mind and asks me what “Sequoia” means, which causes me to ponder if she is telepathic. I tell her that although some people claim it means “bird”, it actually means “pig in a pen”. She smiles and says, “Oh, I thought it meant pig with a pen”. I then am trying to work out if she is being obnoxious somehow, relating to the creator of the Cherokee alphabet, but do not respond, as she seems passive and cheerful (and nonthreatening).

      I end up looking farther back behind my left shoulder and see a very large black book called “10,000 Great Dreams” which strongly reminds me of the ridiculous fiasco in real life called “10,000 Dreams Interpreted” by Gustavus (which I used to read in real life as a boy and it was so absurd, pointless, and wrong for the most part, I laughed until I felt giddy). I pick up the book and take it over to the desk. Then I notice that it is not actually a regular book, but a large black and white harlequin mask with the pages behind the mask. The eyes seem to be emeralds at first, but then I notice they are just green jelly, which fall out in a couple small piles on the table. I note some strange simple “sayings” on each page, none of which make any real sense. I read several, but can only remember one clearly. It says, “You must open your doors to look out your windows”, and then something about cheddar cheese being the “root of all evil” (this may date back to the 1980s where I saw a piece of Swiss-cheese-like blackness with the diagonally rendered top and bottom of the slice representing a “demon” - I think it, that is, this new dream aspect, may also be related to an episode of the “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” television series in the late 1990s or so where a man kept appearing in her dream with a slice of cheese and annoying her).

      Also come the wise words: “Hands are the feet of your arms.”

      Most of the “dreams” read like very short and boring mundane newspaper articles from a mainstream newspaper and with no diverse layers of insights or obscure (but meaningful) renderings as is common with dreams. Nothing visionary appears anywhere, either. Instead, a lot of it seems to have half-finished naïve political speeches or just one sentence at times. Only one, I remember enough to summarize it; it said something like “I was walking down the sidewalk and a girl on roller skates stole my wallet and I chased her and called her a b—- and threw rocks at everyone." I look over and notice that the aforementioned girl is wearing roller skates and her blue jeans have somehow transformed into white shorts but that does not seem to bother me. The "book cover” (mask) also has a red ribbon that seems to be connected as a silk “bookmark”. I pull on it, as it seems to be stuck between two pages near the back and realize the girl is “complaining” (moaning as if annoyed, rather) and it turns out to be a ribbon from her hair, which she retrieves. (I seem to firstly have been pulling her head down and over a bit via the apparently very long “bookmark” aka ribbon from that distance, but this is not the case at all; it just seems to have an odd physical effect, like some sort of “magnet” that makes her head move.) She soon does not mind, though, and in fact laughs about it and throws it back to me when I give it to her and we play a game of catch for about five or six rounds.

      An elderly librarian taps me painfully on the shoulder from my right and points to a sign that says “No garter tossing in the library” and then makes a typical “shhh!” gesture, and I feel embarrassed.

      Looking down, I notice that the mask has turned into a real flayed human face (in two vertical sections), which really makes me think if I should leave. The same librarian taps me again and points to another sign that reads in uppercase - “No defacing books in the library”. I realize that people may think that I am Ed Gein because of this, so I get up to leave and as I do, I notice that much of the material in the back of the “book” actually looks like a gossip column from a tabloid instead of relating to dreams. I can hear the librarian talking loudly to the authorities, many of them being fireman for some reason. “He was in there, throwing garters around, and suddenly tore off his face to make an artistic statement, just like Vincent Van Gogh!" The firemen then do a Keystone Cops routine around the library even though I am standing in plane sight.

      The girl taps me on the shoulder and whispers "you saved us all”. I notice that the harlequin mask/real face/book cover is actually two messy (and melting?) pieces of the creature from the movie “Mimic” (1997) which looks like a human face, but which is meant to fool people before they are eaten. It looks more and more like a pile of melted cheese such as on a pizza.

      The police come in and arrest the librarian for keeping a “fake” book in the library that was “written by a cockroach” (although in the movie, the creature is supposedly more like a cross between a termite and a praying mantis - though does look a lot like a giant cockroach in some scenes). Everyone is marched out of the library in an orderly fashion so that the library can be “fumigated” in case there are any more such books.

      Updated 06-16-2015 at 06:51 AM by 1390 (Enhancement)

      Tags: book
      Categories
      non-lucid , memorable
    10. Age of Valentine Hearts

      by , 04-09-2014 at 10:09 AM
      Morning of April 9, 2014. Wednesday. (Wedding anniversary; married April 9, 1994.)



      I am at a basketball game (yet I have not been to a real one in many years) and over time, I notice people leaving. I focus on the player with the number twenty-two on his top for a short time. Outside, floating above the landscape, I see that a hundred or so people are standing about and form a heart symbol in honor of our wedding anniversary.



      In real life several months back, I grouped all the standing villagers (including the hundreds of additional ones converted by the monks) in the expansion pack of “Age of Empires” (Aztecs) into a heart shape, as well as others standing about in a formation that read “I love Zsuzsanna”. It is one of the only computer games I have ever played much in the last twenty years and played around with because of how easy it was to not only win, but to go to extremes with resources and hundreds of extra villagers (or soldiers) long after the game has been technically won (where only one more easy step is required to actually finish it and end the game play itself if or when desired).
    11. A Tidal Wave

      by , 03-14-2014 at 09:14 AM
      Morning of March 14, 2013. Thursday.



      In my very vivid dream I am walking west with my family (wife Zsuzsanna and children), but seemingly in Brisbane instead of our present home. To the south (coming from Brisbane) is a tidal wave far in the distance rising up over the buildings. I tell everyone else on the streets to run and I keep saying that a tidal wave is coming. I then say, however, that we need to get to the hospital which is only about a block away in our present real-life location but does not fit the in-dream location. I say that because it is the tallest building in the immediate area in real life otherwise and I am thinking of getting every member of my family to the roof.

      However, the event is getting closer and closer (probably with more speed and height than realistically that far inland). Firstly, I worry a bit about my youngest son, but he is close and is still with us. I see other people running but they do not seem very frightened.

      I soon feel an amazing sense of cool water rushing down heavily onto me and see bits of foam everywhere. As we are trying to get up the wooden steps to the second-floor level of a building (the first floor is likely fully open with just storage space as are a lot of homes here) and with a taller building just behind me, it is an amazing feeling, incredibly vivid in terms of weight and pressure and overall sensations. However, I am fairly certain that had it been real it would have knocked me down and swept me away, but it is refreshing, even exhilarating, in-dream. It only causes me to bend down a bit as it hits me.

      We manage to get up to the living room (there seems to be a “mirrored” flight of steps on the opposite side from where we entered). It appears to be a couple of Aborigines dressed in business suits (man and woman, about forty, facing each other at about twenty degrees) and standing near the front of the room. The television is on. I get the sense that one or more people had entered before us (through the opposite “mirrored” side) and may have already left or are in a different room. Another tidal wave comes, but it does not seem that dramatic. The water seems to be about waist-high outside.
      Tags: tidal wave
      Categories
      memorable
    12. The Old Man and his Various Musical Instruments

      by , 03-04-2014 at 04:34 PM
      Morning of March 4, 2014. Tuesday.



      I am at the airport in Brisbane, I believe. The seats are far more comfortable, almost like couches. My wife is with me. Our children may be there but not immediately present.

      A man of about seventy-five years of age is there and he somehow has all kinds of musical instruments in various locations around the area, most of them guitar-like. He does not play much at first, but I enjoy seeing the various items. Some are in a case, others on their own. He seems very friendly, but I do not know who he is.

      One of the instruments is a three-string bass (electric, I think). Another is never taken out of the soft case but may be a miniature violin (about half the size of one in real life) and I ask him about it and the answer seems to be yes. There are a couple music books which have very simple tunes, possibly melody lines only, for folk music.

      Later on, I am on another seat in a perpendicular location from the first but probably not that far away from the other location. It is probably aligned east/west, with the back to the north. We talk about different types of guitars and experiences with them. I play a brief, random “song” on one which seems to have seven strings instead of six - playing mostly one note per beat but three on one beat, which seems somewhat discordant. I also note that there are letters to indicate tuning on one, which appears to have too large a gap in the mid-range area, although it may create interesting chords or be made that way as a real-time EQ “notch” for other instruments that fit that range. (This would be more viable for anything other than a guitar, I should think, such as a flute or especially a recorder. Two recorders playing at the same basic pitch, for example, make absolutely horrid dynamics - similar to when two people sustain a loud whistle at the same pitch on each side of you and a very unpleasant swirling “roaring” is heard in the middle of your head.)

      There is a point where he has some sort of small accordion or concertina but, for quite some time, plays only the bass side (roots only) as a melody, yet it sounds beautiful and orchestral, almost like a brass band. He plays about three longer songs like this. I ask him if he has seen or heard the bass setting where a very high note is added to the bass root which gives a very intriguing sound to the overall song (when the full chords are played on the bass side) and he acknowledges this fact. I tell him about my father and the number of popular waltzes and polkas he wrote. The old man smiles but does not seem as interested in waltzes (or one-two-three) as straight one-two patterns as found in almost all modern music, other than songs like “Top of the World” by Plant P (Tony Carey), which is a breathtaking waltz mostly on synths, yet almost 1700s ballroom-like and epic, one of my favorite recordings of all time.

      Later, he lets me hold a very large guitar, apparently acoustic, and also very old. It is of a very unusual design. The entire neck is deeply indented almost like a series of enclosed backgammon sections (relating to each otherwise implied fret wire, which in this case is actually a higher “wall” for each note range change) all the way to the body. The neck is also too wide to play chords with the left hand. This poses two problems. In addition, I do not see how you could play a chord unless pressing more down over one side of the “wall” from the top and while mostly on the lap (rather than a real chord position grip), but it would not seem to possess the same dynamics at all, as a proper ridge/fret wire would create. I ask him about this, but he seems to know how to play it efficiently, but does not actually demonstrate.

      In a very loose association, my mind starts connecting the seeming backgammon wells series on the weird fretboard of the guitar. There is also the hopscotch reference again. Somehow the idea is triggered by the guitar’s double markers on the twelfth fret and how sections change from one square to two side-by-side squares as in the hopscotch court. At one point, the older man appears to pass out from a medical problem, but recovers and seems to be okay. The people he is with make comments on his declining health due to his age, but he seems to be doing okay thus far and I believe even has a concert to go to in another country.

      In an additional dream, I am in a kitchen. I think it is our present kitchen, although I sense the orientation is exactly perpendicular to how it really is. This has extreme vividness and clarity for the most part other than not fully grasping a prop to my right at first. I am not certain if it is a cylindrical pencil holder or if it is holding asparagus stalks. It is probably the latter as I cannot see a reason for having a pencil holder that close to the sink. While thinking on that, I move to wash a muffin tray with twelve wells. This is the second time in two consecutive nights that I have focused on the possibly important meaning of an array (the other was eighteen “wells” or facets).

      The muffin tin ends up exactly covering the bottom of the sink in a fairly snug and even fashion, though I am able to retrieve it by gripping with fingers in two wells (something similar had happened in real life years ago). I soon notice that the perfectly round and reflective drain is really large (it actually changes size, it seems, getting bigger a few times), up to almost eighty percent of the sink’s bottom in area. It seems to imply bottomlessness or at least a very distant point down into what is somewhat like a “light at the end of the tunnel” kind of presentation. There is a golden glow from way down below. A silvery light also encircles the implied route down in various swirling events. It is actually so large that there is a thought that I could go headfirst into it (yet not in a threatening or dangerous way), but do not, and there is no stronger vertigo, just a sense that I am very close to the portal between “here” and the space of “all light”. Although “down the drain” has a negative connotation, this is actually quite the opposite in what is sensed and felt about the potential portal into universality. It vaguely reminds me of a previous dream where vivid whale-song was emerging from the drain as the water in the sink was moving in a spiral somewhat - with a very blissful awareness.

      Updated 06-16-2015 at 07:51 AM by 1390 (Enhancement)

      Categories
      memorable
    13. Fever dream 2014 - A Long Treasure Quest

      by , 02-26-2014 at 11:54 AM
      Morning of February 26, 2014. Wednesday.



      Due to a bad cold (first one in years) I was “locked” into a tremendously long and epic dream that seemed to go on for hours. It was too long to post every detail, but will summarize a few more interesting scenes.

      A treasure hunter and I go through several adventures in America, it seems, to get a map, a couple keys, and other devices that will supposedly allow access to treasures in at least two locations. The map seems to suggest that one treasure is in a “lost graveyard” (apparently tribal and in an Africa-like location) but there is also an idea it could be in a cavern or deep forest or even in someone’s yard (or possibly in the middle of a public street or venue in an urban area - which would prove to be difficult to get access to). We discuss the legends behind these lost treasures which are mostly old coins from another century.

      Because of tentativeness and delay on the part of the other treasure hunter/leader, I get very annoyed (after a long tirade of verbal abuse on my part) and decide to go off on the quest on my own. The others give me all they have regarding a potentially successful outcome including an enhanced mapping of some areas. However, two others decide to come with me (over time, though, they eventually become lost, as I end up on my own again). The two others seem to be old male classmates, Roosevelt I and Ray G (whose birthday was just recently). They seem to reflect a sort of 70s style in dress and hairstyle and one reminds me vaguely of Flip Wilson. At this point, we seem to be going down the steps at the King Street boarding house. My denunciation of the supposedly well-known treasure hunter and adventurer seems to create an atmosphere that he is little more than an average person with no real interest in new discoveries or with any inherent bravery towards the unknown.

      The areas I travel through seem to be very unusual in how they somehow connect as a whole and in other ways, are like several different countries (including Africa, Japan, Australia, and the USA), rather in intriguing incongruous clusters, reminding me a lot of Disney World in Florida or perhaps Busch Gardens (I have been to both places in real life) - or more like a combination of both. The detail is remarkable.

      In a restaurant (at least one wall open to the outside), I notice a partial setup (not strong or large enough to walk or climb on - more like a staircase railing without the actual staircase) that leads out and up to a cave-like entrance near the ceiling. I discuss features of the area with the female (unknown) owner. Apparently, most parts of that area of the town (or large recreational area) is closed to the public for now. Still, I will find a way to go wherever I want and announce this fact when necessary.

      There is a small building that represents a collection of shrunken heads and other objects. The outside of the building is painted in mossy greens and browns and 1930s style circus art. It may be a public bathroom in part.

      I am following one of the security guards (female, unknown) to see if she will unlock a door whereby I can get to the next area. At this point, I am closer to the first treasure area. I come out in a hall and notice she goes through a doorway. I go through the doorway and notice a very fetid scent. It is the dung of a large animal - several piles are about on the ground. It turns out that I am in a mostly circular cage that arcs around much of the building section. A large male rhinoceros approaches, charging me. I punch it in the upper part of the face as it comes within reach, and knock it unconscious. An animal-trainer yells at the security guard for going into the building. I tear through the cage as if it was paper and am in a new area.

      A mime (in a black top hat and minimal makeup) doing some sort of combination of acted-out, pantomime “magic act” (with no props of any kind) and incidental dancing, I decide to lift into the air with some sort of power of levitation by waving my right hand. He goes about twelve feet in the air, then I drop him. However, he is not only not hurt, but seems to have enjoyed the act, as if he will then have a much larger audience. (In fact, more people begin to watch him.) “Did you see that?” he yells (speaking for the first time ever in any of his acts) as people gather around.

      There is a section that seems to be made of small concentration camps of about five different cultures, primarily African and Filipino, but also Brazilian, and in a seemingly ancient tribal state. (In afterthought, I am wondering if these were real concentration camps or some sort of crowded living display of the past in the “park”). I walk past the area and end up near the other end. All of the people of all ages are extremely crowded in an obviously unhygienic way - so crowded, in fact, they cannot move from whatever area they are standing or seated. An older man of about seventy in mostly only a loincloth (but with some arm-jewelry) is seated (in informal cross-legged meditative style) near the middle area of the end (and with mostly younger males, probably relatives) and I decide to offer my “magic” and help. (I seem to have the ability to manifest food and other things, I think, and to transform some things.)

      “Magandang hapon po. Kumusta?" I go on to speak in some sort of mixed-up Tagalog and complex gibberish and he seems impressed in some ways that I know his language so well (recurring), but does not want any of my help or magic for the group of people he seems to represent. I guess they "prefer” to live as they do - overcrowded, continuously hungry, and poor (or perhaps not, but just the decision of one man speaking for all - which is not a realistic or fair way to look at things, even though fairly common in movie scenes and in some real-life situations). I walk on.

      There is a large hill upon which is a thick forest. The place is “closed” to the public, though. It is not the area where the treasure is at any rate, though I think it may have potential. It is in the middle of more carnival-like areas and small restaurants, most closed for the season. There are old graveyards which are also park-like (recurring) but I do not investigate.

      Finally, I come to the area where one treasure is supposed to be. It is not a graveyard, cavern, or forest as originally envisioned. It is an open area in town (a closed outside museum setup, I think, but a few security guards and maintenance workers are walking about) with a large old-fashioned 1930s commercial sewing machine on display. Oddly, it is hanging down to about six feet from the ground on a platform from a setup of cables. Using the map, I try to determine where the treasure itself is to be found. However, the features do not match correctly. The sewing machine has nine main features and the map outlines eight. Also, one device or key I have does not interact with or fit into any feature of the antique sewing machine. This means it is either the wrong location, or the map is fake. I look through the machine after pulling it lower, taking apart some of it, but find no gold or silver coins. A manager of the display seems very upset but I magically restore everything to perfection. There is a loud humming sound and a feeling of achievement and completion and everyone is glad nothing was really damaged.

      Soon, either John Larroquette or Alec Baldwin (could never tell them apart) appears in black as a sarcastic villain/nemesis (or competing treasure seeker), almost reminiscent of Mandrake the Magician, showing two old and very valuable silver coins (from the nineteenth century, I think - not sure of the exact type) he had just found, speaking in a glib but somewhat childish and patronizing way - apparently worth the “ridiculous” amount of ten million dollars and apparently the target of one of the maps, though I thought I had the only one. He rubs them between his fingers. I believe one is (original value) a ten-cent coin and the other fifty cents. I have other things to find, however.

      The main theme of this turned out to be precognitive (the usual, of course) or remote-viewed or “postcognitive” (or even related to group telepathy) or whatever you want to call it (“Universal Mind” is what I call the Source for the most part - always “playing” in my dreams since earliest memory, sometimes to the point of annoyance). As I was finishing the last sentences here (in the last paragraph), my wife told me (without knowing my dream’s plot) that she just saw something on television where someone found an old tin of coins (in the USA) supposedly worth ten million dollars.

      In afterthought. A couple more things I have contemplated. It is likely that the location was mainly integrated with Disneyland in California, the state where the treasure was actually found. My dream was quite specific in the “eight features” (shown as compartments on the map). In reality, a news article says the coins were found in eight metal cans.

      Updated 06-19-2015 at 10:08 PM by 1390

      Categories
      memorable , non-lucid
    14. Tulpa Triumphant

      by , 02-11-2014 at 09:07 AM
      Morning of February 11, 2014. Tuesday.



      I believe February 11th is somewhat of a significant date (for me to some extent) because of the 2 - 11 pattern (as part of the huge 2, 6, 9, 11, 22, 69, 96, etc. links).

      This is a fairly short semi-lucid dream that is more like an in-dream “vision”. I am watching, over time, a giant diamond rotating in no particular location. Each facet of the diamond is like a mirror, each “reflecting” (from an unknown location) a different female face.

      There are very strong feelings of love and well-being as the “mirrors” of this giant diamond “slowly explode” outward as a somewhat random pattern. At the center of all this is my wife. She is smiling at me. I strongly feel that she is the “only true female that exists in this world” (or “universe”/“dimension” wherever) and is the origin of all others since earliest memory (even imaginary aspects of female characters in past dreams as well as all other females throughout history). This makes perfect sense to me since she was (in my opinion) the first female I “sensed” at a deeper level on her day of birth from across the wide ocean (while near the Port Charlotte region).

      I suppose there is also a very vague connection to the very similar imagery (of the rotating diamond-like facets) of the “Superman” movie (1978) concerning “The Phantom Zone”, which is a negative implication - but not really relevant to my dream. Realistically, though, I do now see the Superman logo as “diamond-shaped” even though it is not geometrically diamond-shaped - it is actually very much like the diamond on a wedding ring in symbolism. Also, my wife’s anglicized first name begins with “S” and “S” is a Yin Yang representation (especially when paired with two smaller offset “c"s, though).

      This dream had a lot of "perfect” energy and beauty.
      Tags: diamond
      Categories
      lucid , memorable
    15. An Incompetent Murder Investigation (Revelatory)

      by , 02-07-2014 at 08:07 AM
      Morning of February 7, 2014. Friday.



      In my dream, I am brought in as a murder suspect of an unknown teenage female. I spend most of my time in my dream standing at a counter (walking a short distance from it now and then in the same large room) of a type very similar to the local library’s but inverted (the setting already being a clue that my dream will resolve to “choosing books”); that is, forming an inward angle of over one-hundred-ten degrees (not ninety; that is, not a square angle as the counter’s division relative to the two walls is not perpendicular), spanning across a corner of a large room, though the counter section on the left is of a shorter length. There are two main (unfamiliar) male investigators that go through various role-playing and questioning sessions with me, sometimes seemingly forgetting what they were saying or doing (or planning to do). It seems that nearly a day goes by, and I spend all my time standing or walking and am even clearly aware of the tiredness in my legs later on.

      One of the reasons I was brought in as a suspect was because I was “chubby”. Their reasoning is that someone who is chubbier is “naturally” more likely to overtake a weaker or smaller person.

      I am eventually vividly aware that they are wasting their time to too great of an extent for it to be a “real” investigation and at one point they also seem aware of this, but I seemingly am meant to have patience as if it is a game. I have no clear thoughts on who the actual criminal might be, although I do sense he is possibly a very chubby older single male. I tend to waver between complaining in a hostile manner to expressing a patient understanding of their methods.

      I am asked to write my version of something the older detective says to see if my writing matches a note the killer supposedly wrote and left near the victim in writing style as well as what I write. He tells me that I do not have to write exactly what he says but how I would naturally write my version of what he says, which is quite strange because one of the choices is to write “jellyfish” or not write it - something about writing “this is why all jellyfish should die” or write a similar phrase and leaving out “jellyfish” (there is no clue what the killer actually wrote) which will give them the evidence of whether or not it was me. However, I do not finish this test as the detectives are distracted and thus they go off on a tangent to some other concerns not related to the killing. I am also considering if the crime took place before I was born, but that reasoning does not seem to matter to them even if true.

      The younger detective talks about his mistakes and regrets of the past in similar work he had done before, although does not go into detail. I start to suspect that about twenty-five percent of people in jail never committed a crime. A few times I yell at them in frustration but am also laughing at a few points, even feeling a bit giddy as if I cannot believe how incompetent they are, including with their fill-in-the-blanks mentality and overwhelming proclivity to fabricate or be mistaken in environmental or personal cues. Sometimes they seem like buffoons, other times more focused on their work. Sometimes they seem to be testing my reaction on questions that make no sense. I do get very annoyed over time and wonder why I happen to be the only one in the situation. I suppose it is possible that other suspects are being questioned or tested in other rooms, but I sense that this is somehow not the case. If it is not proven to be me, perhaps the investigation will not even continue.

      At one point, I see a large cardboard box someone brings in which has a thinner purple blanket and somewhat formal-looking yellow (with white lacy trim) clothes - a shorter dress and blouse, I think. The blanket is sparsely woven of yarn (but commercially produced I assume), in a way that about twenty-five percent of it is open stitching so that you can mostly see through it, somewhat like a much lighter thinner afghan blanket. I am not familiar with the materials at all. They look like they might have been in the ground for a time. I stand there patiently but am not questioned on the materials as they may just be testing my reaction.

      Later, they seem to have at least seven or eight old comic books; the same ones owned from when I was about nine or ten years old. Supposedly, I had written my full name inside each book on the first panel of each comic (which I never did in real life), near the top and in neat cursive in blue ink. They are all Harvey comics and all of Spooky the Tuff Little Ghost - with a supposedly “fictional” one (though it was real) of Spooky playing pool and cheating. I guess people interested in collecting comic books and playing pool are also likely murder suspects.

      From here, my dream mostly falls into somewhat abstract thinking relating to my puzzlement over the similarity of the different comic book covers as I begin to see additional Hot Stuff covers in addition to the Spooky ones.



      What is curious is that, thanks to research, I learned something I had not known. I thought I had all issues of Spooky when I was younger - but I had been missing one (likely due to the similarity of a cover of a comic book I already had). Coincidentally, the only one I was missing had a similar gag as the “Devil Kids” one I did have - that is, the main character going through a pool table - Spooky going through in a ghostly way and Hot Stuff burning his way through. Even more intriguing and somewhat amusing - I was seemingly taught in a subtle way by my dream - about a facet of “normal” (or consensus-based) human consciousness. There is apparently another “version” of the “same” Hot Stuff cover in real life that is missing the point entirely (although he is using his trident as a pool cue, which is supposed to be the gag in this case though also seems a missed variation on the other one where he uses a normal pool cue which would likely burn up) and he is at the pool table without any significant sight gag other than the trident as the “pool stick” (with no burning in to cheat). In my opinion, the ideal cover would have been burning through the table while using his trident as the “pool stick”.

      I have seen this fairly often in my life; that is, people writing, drawing, or copying the aspects of something in this way and missing the main point (although I do understand that metaphors and word plays and even certain types of sight gags or particular intent of images do not translate into other languages or even for certain types of people; for example - there is a well-known old Australian poster that conveys something different than intended - see bottom image in this post).

      My dream was partly influenced by a track I was working on about a year ago where an African chant seems to reflect a set of English phrases: “Johnny not wait, ooh ooh, why wait, he wanna play pool” and including the line “patience is a virtue”. Sometimes I am amazed at how meaningful and intricate dreams are and literally revelatory (not symbolic) once you examine them more closely. I also noticed that the in-dream blanket was the same purple as the background color in the Spooky cover and the title in yellow as with the in-dream clothes.



      Updated 12-16-2016 at 05:07 AM by 1390

      Categories
      memorable
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