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    Blue_Opossum

    No three-storey houses for me - and “shoot first” mentality

    by , 10-01-2013 at 09:53 PM (137 Views)
    Morning of October 1, 2013. Tuesday.



    Lately (mostly over only the past few months), I have had a recurring “dream habit” of immediately shooting anyone that even slightly annoys me in a dream scenario (almost always near the last three-quarters to the ending of my dream) - although it probably has not vividly occurred in dreams more than about ten times thus far. I am not quite sure how this developed - especially as my patience with people in real life is much higher than many I know of - or perhaps this is actually the reason - to safely “unwind” in my dream, so to speak. I seem to immediately be able to use my hand as a gun (as I am not fully clear on if my hand is actually holding anything when I shoot) although there is always a gun-like sound. The other character (usually male) drops on the first shot and is out of my dream entirely - and for the most part, no other additional character even seems to notice. Strangely enough, it does not even feel like a violent act in my dream, more of a way to simply eliminate certain annoying characters of my dream to move on to a potentially better scenario - my mind is quite focused and certain and aware on this act as if it is the right thing to do at any time within any dream - and how it works - as I said, a new actual dream “habit”.

    This dream, at one point, is focused on a lifelong dream theme of three-storey houses not being quite “safe”. In one part of my dream, I seem to be looking over our “new home”. My oldest daughter is much younger - however, it could also be that our baby daughter is much older, yet she does mostly seem like our oldest daughter Amelia at about six years or more younger. Our “home” first seems to be a very large garage-like structure with a low roof, with no additional rooms. It has a sort of old dampness like a cave and is on the corner of a city block. Coincidentally, this seems connected directly to (but completely different locations) 415 N Wilson Street/Avenue (but the “actual” in-dream location corresponding with 2 West Oak Street, near the “Tree of Knowledge” that has been there since I was very young), which, in turn, was a scene from another dream I wrote about on here recently. Not only that, in Google maps, I spotted the triangular area and even a yellow smaller bulldozer-like vehicle on the 415 address, which eerily seems to come straight from “The Dead One” entry on here even though it was a childhood dream of many years back.

    Later, though, we are in the same location, but there is something about needing to move. It is a three-storey house. The third floor is sort of disintegrating over time, the floorboards unsafe to walk on, so we do not really use the third floor anymore. Curiously, even though I have had similar dreams about such odd floors all my life, it was only in very recent times that I actually lived in (or even been in at all in real life, for that matter) a house with weird, thin floorboards with larger gaps between them (which also happens to be where the astronomically highest rent ever paid is, as well - even though this house would probably not even be allowed to stand in the USA). This of course, had to be some form of precognition, as no matter how strange or unlikely dream imagery is, it often turns out to reflect amazing foresight of various kinds even for the very distant future.

    There seems to be concern about daughter Amelia’s safety and we are planning to move from the house in my dream (in real life, our present house is only one storey). There are scenes about information on why people should not live in a three-storey house, the third floor which is often more quickly in a state of disintegration, perhaps with a connection to the idea of relics in an attic. It may also relate to a sense of mainstream group mind being “above” me in numbers, yet in a state of decay relative to knowledge (whereas the basement would be the supraconscious, both positive and negative totality). Realistically, it does not make that much sense at all for a higher floor in a house to be “older” or more worn out than the rest of the house. If anything, an upper floor, when an addition to a two-storey house, would have to be new or less used, not more. Yet in some dreams, buildings seem to age in “reverse” (at least relative to the first floor) as if the building in my dream had somehow been built from the top floor down(?).

    Later, as we are mostly no longer in the house, I look out to the opposite side of the street and notice a very large and metallic green lamppost on the corner (at least five times bigger than what it should be - an exact, but “giant” model of the lamppost near the “Tree of Knowledge” in my hometown), across from where our front door would be (which in real life is now part of a bank’s parking lot, called “Suntrust” - and across the street is an inn, not a warehouse). I expect that it will fall over but miss our house, and it does, with a very loud crash near an industrial building or warehouse (rather than the inn). There is also an odd parallel sense of the “Witness Tree” or Witness Tree junction, also in Florida, and reminding me of both the Rod Stewart song “Broken Arrow” (a special song my wife and I heard prior to meeting) where he says “I will meet you at the Witness Tree, leave the whole world behind”, and the Wendy Matthews “Witness Tree” CD that came out around the same time I came to Australia (1994).

    I go out to look around and when I am in the area, I am mistaken for the main member of a repair team to fix the lamppost and told to write down the serial number for the main damaged section of the light from the lamp section. Another man shows up shortly. I have a piece of paper (about half of A4 size) and a pencil. I start to write the code with the paper being on an outer window ledge of the warehouse, part of it being 415WS - 415 Wilson Street (which I think I change by drawing over it to something like X465 or similar). I ask him in a sarcastic manner if I have to write up a report (as I was the only witness to what had happened - but the report is to mostly document the exact levels of damage and repair costs) and, being slightly surprised by his answer, he says yes. I ask him about what form I should use and he makes a remark about needing to travel to get it from the company (even though there seems to be a folder of work and report forms on the outer window ledge of the warehouse with yellow and blue sheets as well as white sheets for original copies). Everything must be done by me - as he is only a foreman who only gives the orders on what people do regarding street maintenance (I have not worked for a street department in about twenty years - the last one being in Onalaska). I start to regret getting involved and being mistaken for a street department worker, but I do start to write out the longer number. I have a little trouble with the pencil as the lead is somewhat dull, so have to trace over the lines, pressing harder, in an attempt to darken them. The number codes seem very important in relating to something else - they have several sixes and at least one nine, so I focus on them for quite some time - perhaps some important, almost barely familiar patterns. This turns out to be various distortions of planck’s constant.

    The other (first) man yells at me for taking so long in copying and writing out the serial code (of which I think there are at least four or five sections of mostly numbers and a few other letters in addition to the “X” and “WS”). I feel a vague sense of frustration - as I know I should be getting more out of what I am seeing on the paper (focusing on the thicker spiral of the number six which has erasure marks around the “stem” of the six), but calmly materialize a gun in my hand and shoot him. A short time passes and I shoot the other man as well. I then contemplate shooting all of the others (although I see no one else) that are supposedly not a part of “my” dream realm and slowly wake with no additional drama.

    My wife’s dream of the same time period had similar elements, even the concept of being in the third floor of a house.

    Other associations in addition to those already mentioned above:

    “Lily of the Lamplight” I sang to my wife on a cassette tape before we met (a part of her name in English meaning “Lily”).

    A recurring childhood dream of Susan R, the “other”, sitting on a bench near the “Tree of Knowledge” and crying (which would have also been near the same lamppost).

    The seriously weird-sounding David Essex song (from 1973) “Lamplight”.

    A number of incredibly strange coincidences and “parallels” to the new Wendy Matthews CD (all of her past CDs also having bizarre coincidences and “parallels”), even the “same” address in a song title (but in real life, a different town of course).

    Important Links:

    “Tree of Knowledge” with green lamppost near:

    http://www.panoramio.com/photo/33809019

    I have included this next first link for my own reference (though incomplete in light of her newest album related to the link after that), because, when it comes to Wendy Matthews songs, it gets pretty crazy with at least a hundred strange coincidences relating to her music and my wife and I, one recent album (one song “explained” in the second link here) has both the name of my oldest daughter and even has this song with (including the same three-digit number and name) an actual street address (but most assuredly a different town) from my childhood.

    http://www.wendymatthews.com.au/discography.htm

    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aGBDy3CnsIA (Note the master key “twenty-two” gate, as a heart - on the tattoo on the back at the end of the video which is apparently the album cover - and her rather odd comment - “tattooed on my memory banks” relative to things manifesting later in life - her exact words). I’m putting this up, as I consider it very precise validation at several levels (for me, personally). There was a lot more, but I decided not to post it here, as it is far too detailed, complex, and personal and is, quite frankly, too “miraculous” so to speak - some things should probably stay sacred.

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