Blue_Opossum

Morning of September 27, 2015. Sunday.



I am walking around in the dark in an unusual version of our old apartment on Duffy Street, the layout of which seems doubled somehow. I hear Zsuzsanna saying something about some sort of noise and I am not sure what is going on. My awareness of my walking in the dark is quite vivid and accurate. Eventually however, I reach a door, which seems to be the back door from the garage area that goes out into the shared courtyard. When I go out, I note nothing unexpected (even though it is completely fictional).

There is a miniature railway running through the courtyard, adjacent to the back of our apartment building. Behind the other apartment is an older male (of perhaps about sixty) on a miniature locomotive. I recognize that there is a miniature locomotive on my side parked farther back on the small railroad tracks on our side (though I have no memory of having used it recently). There are also a few items around it, possibly chairs and a container of some sort.

There are two sets of tracks running parallel behind our area, becoming one between our apartment and the unknown male’s, with the outermost track arcing towards our building and joining his one track. Thus, when he rides the locomotive towards our area, he turns onto the other track rather than being close to the back of our apartment, but still goes into our part of the courtyard. It is quite vivid and interesting and again, it does not come to mind that this is a completely fictional setup.

My wife Zsuzsanna and our youngest son come out from our back door to see what is going on. The man seems to be in the process of moving a large box or something to the other side of the building just past our side, where apparently the street runs perpendicular to the edge of the tracks (and where the tracks just stop or are truncated). It may be very early in the morning before sunrise, or still fairly late at night. There is enough light to see all the interesting detail, I assume from street lights and lights that shine into the courtyard from the back of the building.

The male on the locomotive seems to be coordinating an effort with a younger male (of about thirty at the most) on the street to our left, to move at least one large box that was apparently put near the outer track earlier. The younger male is straddling a miniature Formula One racing car and sort of going back and forth (backwards and forwards) along the street without turning, seemingly on foot power alone (though the car is possibly also moving with a motor of some kind). He seems to be doing this due to other traffic on the street now and then, to narrowly avoid being hit by the normal cars.

Unfortunately, he seems to somehow get blocked off at one point (from normal cars in both directions, I think) as we are watching and somehow gets knocked backwards off his toy Formula One car and pulled away in the other direction (possibly from something sticking out the side of the bed of a passing pickup truck), somehow causing his left foot (which is somehow torn off near the bottom of the car) to remain near the car, shoe and all, as he screams in surprise and ends up lying on his back (being dragged a short distance) in the opposite direction of our apartment. There is blood, but not a lot. I push my youngest son back towards the back door as he starts to move more out towards the courtyard, as I do not want him to see the bizarre accident. Zsuzsanna holds his shoulders so he does not run off.

I get the impression that the younger male could have turned off to the right into the courtyard, but that the box they were going to move was in the way.

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People who believe in “dream interpretation” in the way the term is often used seem to wholly lack the understanding of biologically premonitory hypnopompia, which I have experienced once or twice, every day, for over fifty years, though I still find the thousands of unique resultant dreams as fascinating. In this case, my dream transitioned to align with a spontaneous jab in my ankle to “explain”, by irrelevant fiction, what the “cause” was, projecting it onto a different dream character. Such physical effects are involuntary and based on unconscious dynamics and to assign “interpretation” is pointless. This is unfortunate, because some dreams also have incredible levels of prescience. For example, I married my “dream girl” over a lifetime of very specific clues about her, including everything from her birthplace to her birthday to her name and exact appearance, even the unlikely mixed Hungarian and Australian accent. What is not literal prescience is more likely to be restricted to the dynamics of dreaming and waking, not that hard to grasp in my experience. The train for example, represents the emergent consciousness, and the pattern of increasing neural activity in the waking stage. What is even more obvious is the link to the pickup truck bed as being part of the accident scene, and the play on “bed”, as my foot being near the end of our bed as I am sleeping.

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