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    Non-Lucid Dreams

    1. Modulating Dreaming Processes with a Calculator and a Robot

      by , 10-15-2020 at 07:19 AM
      Morning of October 15, 2020. Thursday.

      Dream #: 19,659-02. Reading time: 2 min 12 sec.



      My dream, in instinctual mode (but on the periphery of liminality throughout), transitions through the usual processes, but I carry a graphing calculator throughout my exploring and meandering. This aspect keeps my somatosensory dynamics vivid and sustains my overall clarity and perceptual awareness throughout most of my dream. I keep it in my right hand and enter numbers mostly with my thumb.

      In the main narrative, I walk through several areas of what seems to be a college campus in the late morning. I consider I am not supposed to be here, but I doubt anyone would notice or care. As I walk, I push random numbers on my calculator, which I consider some people might perceive as a cell phone. I do not look at the display and only vaguely think of random numbers to enter at different times. (It is mainly somatosensory focus holding me in the dream rather than cerebral. As I sleep, I sometimes habitually clasp the wooden slat of our bed’s headboard.)

      Eventually, I transition into the predictable “seeking the sleeper” mode. I find myself walking into the bedroom of an unknown person. As a result, associations with the physical immobility of my body (while sleeping) instinctually initiates. I cannot find a way to leave the room even though I had just walked in. The sleep personification resolves as an unfamiliar girl. She leaves her bed and talks to me. I tell her I have to find my house. She assumes I am a professor that should be living in the school and is puzzled by me calling the school a “house.” I tell her, “Well, I call where I live a house.”

      For a short time, I contemplate returning to deeper sleep. As a result, we walk to a staircase that leads down into a dark flooded basement. The girl briefly transitions into the Naiad simulacrum and talks about the process, but I decide to explore more. We continue to communicate as we find an exit from her bedroom that leads into the next predictable stage of dreaming, the parking lot setting.

      The sleep-wake personification appears as an unknown young male a foot taller than me. I consider if he will be a bully or remain friendly (especially as I am already in the last transition of the dreaming process, so he does not have to be imposing). My indecision creates a delayed and ambiguous behavior on his part as if he does not know how to act. He says something that comes out like gibberish. “What did you say?” I ask him. He does not seem rude or confrontational, but I still move on to the next process.

      I instinctually summon the process of attaining physical mobility (while still thumbing the calculator), that, of course, is imaginary while in the dream state (a fallacy that has occurred all my life when dreaming in this mode and is autosymbolic in co-occurrent continuity of the process rather than a false awakening). Although the man is not a bully, I mentally define, with engraved lines, the perimeter of a large square in the parking lot. As we watch, a Transformer robot begins to emerge until it is visible down to below its chest. In this analogy to moving into post-liminality, I walk on to the school building and soon wake.


    2. A Vivid Roller Coaster Adventure (control without lucidity)

      by , 09-09-2020 at 06:52 AM
      Morning of September 8, 2020. Tuesday.

      Dream #: 19,622-02. Reading time: 4 min 18 sec.



      I instinctually summon imaginary kinaesthesia to vivify and sustain my dreaming experience. It is crucial to comprehend that this process is not symbolic, interpretable, or influenced by waking life but is a deliberate attempt to become more immersed in my dream. (Summoning imaginary kinaesthesia means instinctually directing the vestibular system ambiguity resulting from the lack of viable discernment of my physical body and its orientation while in dream sleep to favor the inward illusory side of this ambiguity to increase the illusion of movement and momentum. I have indulged in this practice since I was a toddler.)

      I am also instinctually aware of Zsuzsanna sleeping close to me on my left. As a result, in my dream, she is sitting on my left in what first seems like a small open train but soon becomes a car on a roller coaster. There are no other roller coaster cars or people. (Meanwhile, Zsuzsanna is dreaming of being on a train, intimating we are in the same stage of dreaming, not necessarily transpersonal as it is a fundamental process.)

      My dream vivifies with realistic movement (correlating with my imaginary physicality) as we ride the roller coaster. I see its unusual structures ahead, but I remain unconcerned, and our ride is smooth. The landscape is similar to that along West Avenue North in La Crosse. I realize that the ride will take us to a resort that features a beach. This factor is an instinctual summoning of melatonin mediation. Water exemplifies the illusory essence and nuances of sleep. (Meanwhile, Zsuzsanna continues in the same dreaming stage. However, in her dream, she remains on the train. Rain starts to come in because of a leak in the roof.)

      At the unfamiliar resort, the beach is suddenly an indoor feature after the typical indoor-outdoor ambiguity of this dreaming mode begins but favors the indoor factor. It is now more like a big indoor swimming pool. Our oldest son is now with us (even though he did not travel here with us), but he is only about ten years old. (There is no recall of our other four children at this point.) He cheerfully jumps into the water. Several other people are swimming while I sit with my legs hanging over the edge of the pool and sarcastically complain about there being no beach. At this point, because of sustained virtual melatonin mediation, I become aware our son is not resurfacing. I soon see him below the water’s surface and pull him up, and he seems to be unconscious (instinctual awareness I am sleeping). He recovers and complains about a man grabbing him underwater and doing something to his face.

      Zsuzsanna, our son, and I walk down a hall as I complain about the place and the man who may have hurt our son. A sleep-wake manager (also the manager of the resort) comes to us with another unknown male and states how he removed a small stick from our son’s nose and also intended to bring him up to the surface. Even so, I am annoyed that such a business would allow debris where people are swimming.

      In the next scene, Zsuzsanna, our son, and I are in a small room with windows encompassing three sides and benches attached to three walls. We watch an unrealistically large shark swimming around, though it does not bump the glass or pose a threat. The height of its head is higher than the windows when it is closest. (This scene was directly influenced by “Underwater” from 2020, though in the movie, it was people watching a giant fictitious oceanic creature through a window. Despite the influence, it correlates with precursory liminality that I informally call wall mediation, instinctual awareness of the concurrent division between imaginary dream space and potential waking space.)

      At a service counter, I become annoyed when the manager gives us complimentary bowls of ice cream. I knock them to the floor, as I do not want to spend any more time here, and end up leaving on my own with less of my waking-life identity. I climb up the roller coaster and attempt to ride a car back home (mistakenly perceived as Northside La Crosse, where I have not been in waking life since 1994). Even though my dream exponentially vivifies at this point, it also transitions to the emergence side of physicality and kinaesthesia. It now seems I am on a mechanic’s creeper (instead of a roller coaster car) and trying to move through a small wooden tunnel, feet first while on my back. (This type of dream state process occurs when precursory liminality becomes predominant in that I am then liminally aware of my physical body being immobile and beyond my control while sleeping. At this point, I am also instinctually aware of my sleeping position, which is mostly on my back.) I think about the unusual restrictions of the design and consider how men of a bigger size than me could not use the transportation at all. Even so, it seems likely that I will not be able to continue comfortably.

      I decide to teleport (with only vague myoclonus). I am suddenly in an unknown outdoor location in Northside La Crosse. Two people are present; an unfamiliar man and a woman (quantum model of Zsuzsanna). I tell the man that I teleported here. He seems puzzled and incredulous. I prove it to him by teleporting about six feet to the left of my present position with the sense of quickly blinking and becoming more aware of the dream state’s essence again. He cheerfully holds up his cell phone to film me in a conspiratorial manner, but I turn so that my face is out of range. I cause his cell phone to stop working. The screen cracks, and it displays what looks like an analogue television on an empty channel.

      I explain that whatever I say happens. I summon somatosensory dynamics (to augment my dream self’s sense of touch), but with big diamonds rather than eggs or coins. I open my hand to reveal an unrealistically large diamond that I give to the man. I tell him it is only worth about $30,000.00. Other diamonds appear in my hand. I give the woman one.

      In the last scene, she happily approaches me as I am leaving to remind me I had already given her a diamond on a previous day. She opens her hand to show me two large diamonds.


    3. An Unusual Journey

      by , 08-23-2020 at 10:57 AM
      Morning of August 23, 2020. Sunday.

      Dream #: 19,606-03. Reading time: 2 min 42 sec.



      There were more kinaesthetic and somatosensory events in this dream than usual. The processes sustained my dreaming experience but resulted in an exaggerated and prolonged sensory focus that was predominant in the unusual narrative.

      In the first part, my instinctual awareness I am sleeping results in the opening scene being in an unknown bedroom. My conscious self identity mostly remains present throughout my dream. Zsuzsanna and I are going on a trip to another part of town (fictitious location). We are sharing an apartment with an unknown woman. I have to get dressed, but it is too difficult. My pants will not go up over my hips. I am annoyed by the irritating sensations. (This sometimes happens when I sleep with a heavy blanket.) Even so, the scenario eventually changes, and Zsuzsanna and I are walking along a dirt road.

      There is an exhibition in an unfamiliar region. Zsuzsanna introduces me to an unknown male named Chris. She supposedly knew him when she was younger and living in Nimbin (though that is impossible, as he is only about twenty years old). An unknown man takes a picture of Zsuzsanna, saying how beautiful she is and acting as if she is on her own and available. I take his camera and smash it, noticing that there is a roll of film inside with images of people. I am unsure if he will still be able to develop it, but I mangle the camera as much as possible and throw it on the floor. (This situation was influenced by a scene from “King Kong” I had seen a small part of last night. It is the scene where Carl discovers his destroyed camera. The only difference is that, in my dream, I could see transparent individual images in the film.)

      Somatosensory dynamics cause me to focus on my hands. I have a silver ring that used to be tight on my finger, but now it is far too big to stay on it. I move it around over my finger and tell others about the situation. It seems I am shrinking, or at least my hand is.

      Zsuzsanna and I are going to leave. I start to walk down a staircase on my own and (as is typical in dreams) imaginary kinaesthesia becomes predominant. The steps are individual stacked storage boxes, and some below me fall to the ground as I remain on the higher section. Other people cannot get down either. I consider that some people below can put the steps back, but they walk off. A woman at a counter in the building tells me I can turn and go to another area. I teleport to the back of the building by going under the large gap in the lower section. There are many people around. I soon teleport back and jump to the ground. I tell the woman at the counter (from outside the entrance, though the setting is ambiguous) that the staircase is illegal (because of being unsafe for the public). She cheerfully tells me that she knows it is obviously against the law but that it is only a temporary setup for the exhibition.

      Zsuzsanna and I and our youngest daughter are walking home. An enormous vehicle approaches from the opposite direction, and we go to the side of the street. However, the machine is so big it is over most of the area. The bottom of the long truck is over ten feet above us. It seems to be a street-building and maintenance device that pours the asphalt as it travels as well as smooths out the surface and performs other tasks. The driver is aware of us at one point and swerves slightly, but we still cannot get past and cannot continue safely either. There is a high-set chain-link fence on our left that prevents us from going another way. Despite the gigantic size of the vehicle, I push on its wheels and slide it away from us as if it weighed hardly anything (though I am aware of some weight and momentum).


    4. The New Design (and morphing / liminality modulation)

      by , 07-28-2020 at 11:12 AM
      Morning of July 28, 2020. Tuesday.

      Dream #: 19,580-02. Reading time (optimized): 2 min 30 sec.



      I am dreaming in an instinctual mode that transitions to moderate liminal modifications that define my emergence from illusory dream perception to the threshold of wakefulness and precursory physicality. My waking-life identity is irrelevant and absent throughout this process.



      I am sitting on the couch in the living room of the Loomis Street house (unseen in waking life since February 1994). I have no recall of its history as my dream starts with a fanciful theme, with morphing content. The narrative initiates emerging physical awareness by first acknowledging and defining the immobility of my physical body while sleeping (a fundamental dreaming process).

      My dream’s narrative begins with the creation of miniature walls (about a foot in height) with the appearance of the front of a barn (the quantization of the virtual division between dream space and waking space), featuring a hayloft door and barn doors. An unfamiliar male character of about twenty years old had been creating them under the management of British actor Mark Sheppard (this dream’s sleep-wake manager) who remains a passive witness, as my dream self is initiating the waking transition in this instance.

      I instinctually continue the process by mentally creating a new version of the little wall. Its appearance differs from the original design only in that it features four miniaturized drawer spaces (without drawers), of equal size, beneath two adjacent doorways (where the barn doors had been). They are in two columns of two, and the feature matches the width of the barn’s entrance. A narrow column evenly divides the two doorways, directly above the division of the two drawer space tiers. (This feature instinctually acknowledges the compartmentalization of neural activity while in REM sleep, though with the anticipation of achieving consciousness.) Mark looks on as I feel cheerful about this more elaborate design.

      The modulatory process (co-occurrent with progressing towards wakefulness) continues with a change in the feature. The area where the drawer spaces were is magnified and isolated while the rest of my dream’s environment becomes undefined. I see two miniaturized gray boom gates that mirror each other, facing the center. This feature instinctually anticipates the exit point of the dream state. As a result, somatosensory dynamics initiate. I push down on the tip of the little boom gate on the right, and it springs back up (sleep atonia to myoclonus).

      My instinctual awareness of my immobility while sleeping (sleep atonia) integrates into the next change in the feature. Mark remains, but I do not look at him. The little boom gates transform as the area is now over twice the size as previously. They are now tonearms that face each other (similar to those of a 1950s record player).

      I become aware that there is motorized clockwork higher within this feature, though I wonder if the tonearm on the left is redundant or if it might interfere with the function of this device. I move the right tonearm in the manner of how I would use it when placing it on a record. The left tonearm only slightly moves on its own as I do this. Mark says he does not think there will be any problems with the new design.



      Even though this dream utilizes the usual processes, I found this particular sequence fascinating in its uniqueness and inventiveness.



      Factors not explained in the main entry:

      Hayloft door (quantized in the miniature wall): Instinctual anticipation of the vestibular system ambiguity as a result of being in REM sleep. A recent variation of this occurred in “Conspiratorial Murals (‘Tickle Me’ Influence),” where my dream self even made a vocal acknowledgment of the process.

      Tonearms: Correlation with liminally becoming aware of the physicality and potential mobility of my arms during the waking transition (sleep atonia to myoclonus).


    5. A Unique Military Operation

      by , 07-18-2020 at 07:07 AM
      Morning of July 18, 2020. Saturday.

      Dream #: 19,570-02. Reading time (optimized): 2 min.



      My waking-life identity is absent throughout this dreaming experience. My dream’s backstory emerges as an atypical narrative where I am pretending to be a high-ranking military officer. I have an unfamiliar younger male partner who is working with me. Even so, the outcome is to result in delivering something to a genuine naval ship or a high-ranking officer.

      The narrative otherwise firstly links as a precursory factor to the usual instinctual summoning of imaginary kinaesthesia to vivify the dream state. In this case, the vehicle resembles a WWI US Standard B Liberty Army Truck, though with the driver’s side on the right. My partner and I are trying to convince an unknown civilian male to give us items from a research laboratory that relate to recent discoveries in molecular biology. He is uncertain if we are legitimate but decides to cooperate with us. He wants to ride with us as well, reflecting that he hoped he had put his trust in the right people.

      My partner drives the truck as my dream vivifies, and night becomes day. The streets and high embankments are all white sand as we travel. At one point, the vehicle goes onto a small wooden raft, and it simultaneously takes us across a river as if the momentum of the truck put it in motion. We travel around for a few minutes on a battleship that has areas that make it appear more like a cargo ship.

      The three of us stand outside a military base. A general walks out to greet us, and I salute him. He seems to recognize my partner and me but greets me as a “French pig.” I do not take it as an insult, but I am puzzled because I am supposed to be an American officer. The man we brought here does not seem to notice this contradiction. A private appears and will lead us to where we are to give what the other man took from the small town laboratory to the general.

      My dream vivifies as imaginary kinaesthesia and physicality exponentially increase when I focus on my walking I try to maintain as a formal swagger.

      We sit on what seems to be part of a dock. The general sits down farthest from the water’s edge. An unknown woman is nearby, and I consider I should show my identification. I intend to hold up my badge, but instead, hold my left hand up in a C shape as if holding an invisible one, as my summoning did not work. She does not say anything but appears slightly puzzled.

      We give the general the item. It is a resealable sandwich bag containing chocolate chip cookies. After he eats one, he takes notice of one that is bigger and of a lighter color than the others. Baked within it is microfilm. He holds it up to the light and studies one section of exposed microfilm in a thinner area of the cookie. “This is what I expected,” he says, and thanks us.


      Categories
      non-lucid
    6. Reluctant Sorcerer

      by , 06-13-2020 at 12:54 PM
      Morning of June 13, 2020. Saturday.

      Dream #: 19,535-03. Reading time: 2 min 56 sec.



      Although parts of this dream have influences from coronavirus associations as read in the media in waking life, there is, as usual, no dream self recall or concern about the pandemic, only three compartmentalized threads unlinked in my dreaming experience. The first is a reference to someone having a sore throat, the second relating to the claim I read in an article that bugs in a dream are “symbolic” of COVID-19 (and yet people have always dreamt of bugs long before this), and the third relating to stores being abandoned and boarded up (associated with media reports about rioting and looting as well as COVID-19).

      My dream self is a sorcerer in this imaginary scenario. My waking-life identity is absent even though I am in what is possibly a variation of the Hinkler Centre shopping mall though it also has the vague, ambiguous essence of my middle school and a shopping mall in La Crosse. An unfamiliar man and woman approach me. The man claims he got a sore throat from me. I tell him, “I never had a sore throat in my life.” (My dream self has no recall of ever having one, anyway.) I had supposedly been in service to them as a sorcerer, though I am unsure as to what he had wanted from me. He reminds me by giving me a card (about one and a half times bigger than a business card) that supposedly has their requests on it, though I do not read it.

      Even so, I am annoyed. I do not want to deal with these people, so I summon scarab beetles in their direction, though only a few crawl towards them. (This event is similar to one in a dream from April 14, 2020, though that was with comedic, sarcastic intent with ants.) I decide to leave the scene, now recalling I should be wearing different clothes (instinctual awareness of being undressed as I sleep).

      I walk out to the parking lot (liminality management) and notice most of the windows of the shopping mall are boarded up (another type of dream state liminality management, though with a more defined division between dream space and wakefulness). I want to get something from a store. I eventually find one store at the other end up the shopping mall that is not boarded up and is open. It is a grocery store with many shoppers. After I go in, I look around and realize I am not here to buy anything but to retrieve my clothes. (It makes no sense other than as specific co-occurrence with preparing to wake by being near a checkout with the association of getting dressed after getting out of bed. Once dreams are understood for what they are, there is no doubt as to their translation.)

      Instead of waking with this otherwise familiar process, my dream becomes exponentially more vivid. The vestibular-cerebral handshake kicks in to an extreme degree, and I find that I seem to be a young boy scout (and dressed the part, including with khaki shorts) even though I also have the recall I had been a sorcerer in the previous transition. Three men tower over me like giants, though I do not feel threatened or insecure. They are going on a fishing trip and are waiting for the man I wanted to avoid in the first dream segment. He eventually arrives and is huge. However, I summon a fireball and disintegrate him. The other “giants” do not seem to care and behave as if they are glad to be rid of him.

      Even so, I decide to instinctually initiate the next process. I turn and walk through the wall of a nearby building into a dark bedroom. However, one of the men from the previous scenario walks in, though he is now normal size, as I am. He is thankful for me getting rid of the other man but patronizes me by giving me a card addressing what he wants from me by way of sorcery. Soon, another man comes in and also gives me a card with his requests.

      I am then on the porch of my present home (liminality management) and wonder if I should wait for the third man to approach me in case he also has a card. Even so, I begin to feel that my dream is too ridiculous to continue, so I wake myself.


    7. The Interview in Antissa, with Sun Spiders

      by , 06-13-2020 at 11:25 AM
      Morning of June 13, 2020. Saturday.

      Dream #: 19,535-07. Reading time (optimized): 2 min.



      My dream self maintains the instinctual awareness I am dreaming (after dropping back from post-liminal mode to pre-liminal) by becoming more aware while sitting in a bed near the ocean (potential reinduction). There is the typical indoor-outdoor ambiguity, with my bed in this instance being near a harbor in Antissa, Lesbos, though the setting does not have a more discernible definition.

      My waking-life identity is absent. I am listening to an operatic aria (fictitious, I assume) sung by Luciano Pavarotti about Antissa. (I do not listen to opera in waking life.) I am unsure of the source of the music, but it is probably from a cassette (as my dream self has no recall of what a CD is).

      The sleep-wake manager eventually appears as an unknown male, but he is in passive mode (non-RAS; non-cerebral.) I sit down and watch him create a painting. It features a black oval as a scene of outer space. (This feature represents a higher level of sleep atonia, which may be why somatosensory kicks in as the trigger in the last scene rather than a vestibular event.) There are sparse red and blue ovular arcs around the “egg.” I absentmindedly add a blue ovular arc to the image’s right side with a felt-tip pen. Almost immediately, I feel as if I may have been intrusive in doing this. I start praising his art, focusing the most on the outer space rendering within the oval. He does not seem angry or annoyed.

      A reporter approaches and wants to interview the unknown artist. There is still indoor-outdoor ambiguity, though the setting has more outside dynamics at this point. The two men stand and face each other, about ten feet away from me. The reporter says he is interviewing “the aggressor.” I am puzzled by this and state that he is not an “aggressor,” though I do not know his history. I hope I did not embarrass him by saying this.

      Soon, a sun spider (camel spider), as long as the reporter’s head, crawls around from behind his head and covers his right ear. I am amused, as neither man seems to know it is there. Another sun spider of about the same size as the first crawls from behind the reporter’s head but goes around to the other man’s right ear. The man ignores it despite being aware of it. There is no sense of a threat, as my dream self considers them harmless. I wake at this point with a sense of great amusement.



      A vestibular-cerebral handshake did not occur as the waking process in this instance (as the result of greater sleep atonia but with a directive toward hand myoclonus), so it was somatosensory in this case. In other words, I sleep on my left side, with my right ear more exposed to my waking-life environment. The somatosensory focus was liminally drawn to that factor, especially as a spider often represents the human hand and its somatosensory arousal (though a sun spider is not a true spider).


      Categories
      non-lucid
    8. Frank N. Stein

      by , 06-01-2020 at 04:16 PM
      Morning of February 9, 1971. Tuesday.

      Dream #: 1,513-02. Reading time (optimized): 1 min.



      I am at West Elementary School in Arcadia and walking to the building from the playground. I see lightning inside the main school building in the western area when looking north. Although it is a sunny morning, it is dark and stormy inside the classroom, though I do not see any of my schoolmates or teachers, only what appears to be a crude version of Doctor Frankenstein’s laboratory.

      Later, I am sitting in a taxi in the back seat on the left-hand side. The driver turns around and reveals himself to be Frankenstein’s monster. His name is Frank N. Stein, which I read on a card above the steering wheel, to its left. Nothing frightening happens. It seems more like a puzzling comedic event. The narrative is ambiguous, as even though I am getting a taxi home, the school day has not started yet.



      Now I ask for reasonable intelligence to understand how to decode this dream. Frankenstein’s monster awakened by way of electricity that could also be analogous to neuronal energy. It represents my own waking process and nothing more. The ambiguity of the narrative also correlates with the realization that I am not starting the school day because I am asleep.



      My dream’s influence was probably from Shock Armstrong, the late-night television horror host of “Shock Theatre” from Channel 13 in Tampa, Florida (from 1964-1968). (There was a similar scenario I saw in a humor magazine later in my life; a gag about the ID not looking like the driver).




    9. Of One of Four Dolls

      by , 05-28-2020 at 10:15 AM
      Of One of Four Dolls

      Morning of May 28, 2020. Thursday.

      Dream #: 19,519-02. Reading time (optimized): 3 min 30 sec.



      My dream’s initial setting is a unique variation of our current home (with much of my waking-life identity viably modeled), but the focus is mainly on a distortion of the second house from ours. (That house has been empty for a long time in waking life.) Zsuzsanna and I are going to go and look at the inside of the house. I remember it is smaller than ours, but in my dream, it is unrealistically inadequate at first. However, in the final scenario, the setting is a mostly empty lounge room that is bigger than our lounge room.

      When I am in the house in its lounge room (before it transitions to its larger size), I consider how the back room, as the house only seems to have two, has walls covered with an unusual dark material. It is somewhat like pairs of insect wings evenly and vertically covering all of the walls, additionally reminiscent of fish scales. It seems to be a result of the room being unused for so long, giving the impression of unsuitability for a potential tenant.

      I eventually notice four dolls standing in a row. Each is about a foot high. I focus my attention on one that represents a girl wearing roller skates. This precursor to the vestibular-cerebral handshake (the fundamental waking process to alert the sleeping mind to comprehend physical awareness to move and rise from bed) exponentially vivifies my dream, as is usually the case, even when witnessed rather than inherited.

      Although the doll can stand on its own, it seems to be somewhat rickety at first. There is a button below its chest that will activate it. When I press and rub it, the doll continues to quiver (which results in a vestibular-somatosensory-cerebral handshake, vivifying my dream to the next stage) but soon rolls away, moving in an arc.

      My auditory cortex becomes active as the final dynamic of the cortical handshake. The doll vividly speaks in a young female voice as it circles the room. “Ooh, I am moving. Ooh, what’s that? Ooh, it’s a box.” The doll bumps into an empty cardboard box that matches its height, though immediately turns, rolls a short distance, and bumps into another one opposite the first.



      I awake with a slightly shaky feeling from being overheated.

      Most dream content (excluding liminal and enigmatic integration as well as modulation by my conscious self identity) is always a unique rendering of the same waking processes, simple as that, that is, imaginary compensation for the vestibular-cerebral handshake (and as here, additional somatosensory cortex and auditory cortex activity). Ever since I was a child, it has remained mind-boggling that I have rarely seen anyone comprehend this no matter how clearly it has been explained and validated thousands of times since I first wrote extensively about dreams at age eight.



      I will present here another rundown on this in my 5,100th Internet entry.

      Dream content is fundamentally co-occurrent with the dream state. As explained many times before, “Similarly, he (Herbert Silberer) has shown that the conclusions of some dreams or some divisions in their content merely signify the dreamer’s own perception of his sleeping and waking…in persons who are gifted philosophically and accustomed to introspection it may become very evident.”



      It should be self-evident that the shaky doll was a simulacrum of my emerging awareness of my physicality that needed addressing. It was upright and on roller skates (in contrast to my concurrent physical status), with similarity to my “Annabelle” dreaming experience from March 4, 2020. In that instance, the doll was bigger. Additionally, I decided to wear roller skates to enjoy the vestibular experience.



      Now, some clarification to wrap it all up.

      Why was the activation button below the doll’s chest? It was because of co-occurrence with my mild indigestion, where I typically press on or rub the same area for some relief.

      Why was the doll on roller skates? This feature is the result of vestibular cortex activity that has not quite correlated with the emergence of my physical status during REM sleep (the same factor that causes sleep starts, in other words, the transition of atonia to myoclonus).

      What is with the empty cardboard boxes? They are concurrent with the absence of full cortical integration, as virtual walls always are in the dream state, and ultimately with every other factor of liminal modulation. (For example, one person told me how he crashes through a wall to wake himself, though I often use a virtual door, and one of my more vivid early childhood dreams ended with a bull crashing through a wall. There is no need to pretend it “means” something else.)

      What about the small room in the back with peculiar walls? I just explained what “walls” are, but the pairs of insect wings are more about a potential increase in neural energy. Their dormancy correlates with the absence of a cortical handshake and no anticipated myoclonus at that point.

      Why was the doll female? I am more likely to associate a doll with feminine attributes, even though it is an analogy of how my body does not move while sleeping. However, I have not done the thousands of correlations needed to confirm that vestibular simulacrums are more often female than male.


      Updated 05-28-2020 at 10:40 AM by 1390

      Categories
      non-lucid
    10. Naiad Overdrive

      by , 05-22-2020 at 10:28 AM
      Morning of May 22, 2020. Friday.

      Dream #: 19,513-02. Reading time: 1 min 50 sec.



      In instinctual dreaming mode, though not long after a lucid transition and cessation, I am in an unknown second-floor apartment that has the erroneous implication of being where we presently live. Five cardboard boxes are adjacent to one wall. They contain belongings of an unfamiliar woman Zsuzsanna knows, but since we are supposedly moving, we will remove her possessions first.

      When the unfamiliar male removalist arrives (as a typical passive sleep-wake manager), I help him put the boxes into the back of his van even though they are not very big. I arrange them in two stacks of three and two, which is interesting, as, although the boxes change size and shape (regarding height and width contrast) several times, the number of them does not change, which suggests cognizance is becoming active.

      I talk with him about having worked on a garbage route, and he expresses amusement in how I describe walking in a landfill and the ground giving way when empty cardboard boxes are just beneath the surface. What I am describing is an analogy of losing consciousness when falling asleep as well as not having lucidity, and as a result, instinctual reinduction jumps to a pre-liminal focus.

      I am in the apartment again. I have four galvanized metal washtubs filled with water and sitting on the floor. I pick a water lily off a plant from another area and put it on the water’s surface. It sinks slightly, and I wonder if too much organic material is missing for it to grow. I put another blossom on the surface of the water in the second washtub. Eventually, I see what looks like seaweed swirling in the water. A girl (Naiad) emerges from each washtub.

      I have a cylindrical segment of a big branch (or small log) with a carved recess of a scene that features a miniature house and yard. I put this in the fourth washtub after putting an oversized jeweled Easter egg in the third. Two additional Naiads emerge, one seemingly the leader. All of them are wearing white gowns.

      The Naiad leader stands close to me and eventually starts talking about a human male she once knew. I see a depiction on a small viewscreen floating in the air, showing their history, the speed of which seems accelerated. A red letter x appears and vanishes on each of her cheeks (in the video) numerous times, indicating where he kissed her.



      Although a letter x supposedly means a kiss (what I have heard much of my life), there is also the contradicting claim that letter o means a kiss (as puckering lips), not letter x, and that an x represents two people hugging. It can also mean a sworn oath and has ties to Christianity in the Middle Ages.


    11. Big Books and a Big Greek Coin

      by , 05-10-2020 at 05:00 PM
      Morning of May 10, 2020. Sunday.

      Dream #: 19,501-03. Reading time (optimized): 2 min.



      My dream self lacks any waking-life references (and as usual, there is no recall of the present state of the world), though I become interested in a couple of big books with ambiguous content in an unknown but mostly undefined setting. I treat them as mine.

      The first section of the books seems to feature summaries of dream content, the second, various comic strips (“Blondie” being the one I focus on more), and the third seeming like the Yellow Pages of a phone book. I read a “Blondie” comic strip at the top of a left-hand page, atypically of only two panels, the second panel featuring a winter scene in a city. There is a scene that briefly seems to be in a “real” setting when I am looking at the front of the residence where Dagwood and Blondie live. I consider meeting Dagwood and going to parts of his house that no one (including the Bumsteads) had ever seen. (In a previous dream, I was at a party with Dagwood, his boss Mr. Dithers, and Blondie, and they appeared mainly as in the comic strip.)

      Imaginary somatosensory cortex dynamics initiate but link to a static form of the vestibular cortex model (in contrast to “Fun with Rockets and Alien Spaceships” from May 1) and no dynamic foundation of myoclonus (waking start or falling trigger).

      As a result, I find myself with an old Greek coin, the one that features the Owl of Athena (a flight reference for my dream’s waking transition as always occurs with this mode of dreaming). (One of the last static versions of this process was a sketchy drawing of a crow appearing in a mirror in “Sophie the Ghost” from May 3.) Even so, the coin is about three times bigger than an American quarter and possibly hollow.

      Although the coin is too big to be real, I briefly consider it genuine and valuable. I plan to show it to this dream’s unseen sleep-wake manager (an unknown male), but before I reach him, I see “Athens” to the lower right of the owl relief in uppercase. I read it clearly, and it does not change over time. I consider the coin cannot be genuine because of “Athens” being in English. I wake upon realizing this.



      This dream stems from childhood dreaming practices in which I tried to hold onto a summoned coin to awake with it (and of course, it never worked, although I sometimes woke while pinching my pillowcase). The process (and its absentminded expectation by way of the virtuous circle effect of dreaming practices) has occurred in thousands of my dreams, sometimes with a static link to myoclonus associations as here.



      I will include another example from 2017 when I sat at a table with Les Gold (of “Hardcore Pawn”), and we were discussing a fictitious 1970 limited edition American quarter that featured the outline of Jonathan Livingston Seagull. We talked of how the coin was unpopular, with similar notoriety as the American Susan B. Anthony Dollar.


      Categories
      non-lucid
    12. Sophie the Ghost

      by , 05-03-2020 at 01:10 PM
      Morning of May 3, 2020. Sunday.

      Dream #: 19,494-01. Reading time (optimized): 2 min.



      In this dream from late morning, I maintain precursory liminality after I re-enter sleep. As a result, I recall Zsuzsanna and a few of my waking-life associations (including the instinctual perception of being in bed), though I lose recall of what a dream is (as I ordinarily do in this mode). Even so, it starts with my focus on our bed, but the setting is undefined at first. As Zsuzsanna and I are standing in a different room, I watch the sheet on the bed lift by itself and move back as if manipulated by an invisible person. (Note that this correlates with the management of precursory liminality and has happened in many previous dreams.)

      Zsuzsanna and I walk into the unknown bedroom, and I am astounded by the realistic detail and precise rendering of the events (a thought process that never occurs in waking life - how many people, for example, would watch a car go down the street in waking life while thinking, “Wow, that looks so realistic”). Over time, my dream resolves the room as having the essence of the Barolin Street house’s lounge room (where a bed never was in waking life).

      Eventually, the supposed ghost of a teenage girl is present and is responsible for the previous inexplicable activity. Her name is Sophie.

      “Are you the same Sophie from years ago?” I ask her, but my question does not make much sense. She cheerfully confirms that she is by nodding. (She is an older version of Sophie Wender from John Wyndham’s “The Chrysalids,” also published as “Re-Birth.”) I move my hands through her hair, saying how “realistic” it seems as imaginary somatosensory dynamics increase exponentially. (Note that in a different recent dream, this same process resulted in removing sandspurs from a resting wolf’s fur.)

      Eventually, with Zsuzsanna still in the room, another supposed ghost materializes. This one is Marcella Boyland from Daniel F. Galouye’s “Tonight the Sky Will Fall,” though I do not interact with her as much.

      The need to wake to use the bathroom integrates into my dream’s content, resulting in liminal management and its personification as an unknown male ghost married to Sophie, a status previously unbeknown to me. (His manifestation annoys me, as Sophie is “mine,” but discarding the waking transition would be unwise.) As a result, I gaze into a mirror (though I do not see myself at any point, as the mirror is higher than my line of sight), with liminal drop anticipation. From this, the sketchy drawing of a crow fills the mirror, part of it including random zigzagging lines.

      “Can ghosts influence what people see?” I absentmindedly ask the male. “I had that mirror back when I lived in Chicago,” says the male, which is the usual nonsensical response to questions asked in liminal mode. (Ghosts typically result from liminal management with waking-life identity being “incomplete” when between dreaming and waking.)

      The “ghost” walks into the bathroom, causing me to realize that I need to wake up and go.


      Categories
      non-lucid
    13. Pulling Sandspurs from a Wolf’s Fur

      by , 05-02-2020 at 08:47 AM
      Pulling Sandspurs from a Wolf’s Fur

      Morning of May 2, 2020. Saturday.

      Dream #: 19,493-02. Reading time (optimized): 2 min 30 sec.



      I am sitting on the floor in the living room of a unique variation of the Loomis Street house near the front door. An unfamiliar man is present to my right (closest to the door). I am stroking the fur of a wolf that is lying on his left side. For a time, everything is relaxing and uneventful.

      Somehow, I get sandspurs stuck on me, and they immediately form at least two lines on the wolf’s fur, closest to his back. I determine that they had come from an area on the carpeted floor to my left. I become annoyed, as now I have to pull each sandspur from the wolf’s fur. As I do this, I complain to the man that I had not been outside recently, so they could not have come from me.

      As a result of my sense of touch increasing exponentially for a few minutes and establishing a higher level of (somatosensory) cortical arousal, my dream processing changes to a scene where I look out at a parking lot setting from a doorway. A few unknown people are walking around, but a man with an unrealistically big head appears and dances about irritatingly. Using a combination of telekinesis and mentally willing more sandspurs into existence, I cover his body with sandspurs from more than ten feet away as I wake.



      Get the truth about my dream and some of its familiar causal factors here:

      My dream’s first scene is a unique but familiar form of a process that occurs at least once every sleep cycle. Often, the first discernible rendering is a result of my instinctual awareness I am dreaming. For example, the wolf is resting on his left side, co-occurrent with my sleeping orientation. The unknown man is to my right, co-occurrent with (in this case, subliminal) environmental monitoring (as my right side is more exposed to my real environment).

      Wolves, bears, lions, and most other kinds of animals still occur in my dreams regularly, often as an animal semblance of my reticular activating system as here. However, their nature typically correlates with the ultradian rhythm curve of my sleep cycle. (For example, I had this dream after sunrise, and wolves are nocturnal, and that is how I perceive them.)

      Despite my waking-life identity being absent from my dream, there are incidental compartmentalized associations with the coronavirus. (Even so, I have not yet had a dreaming experience with a viable recall of the pandemic. The processing factors of my dreams have not changed at all.) For example, although I have dreamt of cenchrus (sandspurs) before, they have vague visual similarity with the coronavirus. Removing sandspurs from the wolf’s fur also stems from a distortion of Zsuzsanna removing them from one of our cats (a typical synthesized distortion to prevent confusing dream content with waking life).

      A parking lot usually only occurs in the last scene of a dream in the last dream of a sleep cycle as liminality begins to increase during the waking transition, and it signifies the status of awareness between dream space and precursory waking space. One association is parked vehicles (the body being motionless in bed). In the real world, a parking lot also represents liminal space.

      The man with the big head is a liminal association with a YouTube video I saw yesterday, supposedly featuring a caricature of UK Prime Minister Boris Johnson in bed with the virus (with doctors and nurses dancing around) even though it was part of the 2012 Olympics opening ceremony. The character is “out of bed” in my dream as signifying me getting out of bed after waking.



      Ultimately, despite my dreams likely seeming surreal to the average person, they are almost always extraordinarily easy for me to decode and resolve.


      Categories
      non-lucid
    14. Fun with Rockets and Alien Spaceships

      by , 05-02-2020 at 07:27 AM
      Morning of May 1, 2020. Friday.

      Dream #: 19,492-02. Reading time (optimized): 1 min 30 sec.



      My dream’s foundation is a result of imaginary somatosensory modulation, but atypical. (I often cup my hand around a vertical bar of the head of our bed for this.) Ordinarily, I summon an egg to increase a dream’s illusory sense of touch (other than in a later rendering of a dream’s timeline when it is more often coins), the reason being that an egg is a perfect size to focus on the area of my palm and the underside of my fingers when I cup my hand. This type of modulation is usually in an indoor setting. However, in this instance, there is a precursory vestibular perception that results in the common sky-watching scenario, though in this case, it is seemingly in the late morning rather than before dawn.

      Over time, I see a flying saucer high in the sky. Many other people are around in a mostly featureless field. I focus on creating small rockets to blow up any spaceships.

      The exponential increase in my dream’s illusory sense of touch stems from the middle of a small rocket first materializing in my cupped right hand. The top and bottom of the miniature missile telescope from each side, coming into existence with minimal effort in my summoning the feature. It is partially reminiscent of a toy plastic rocket I had as a boy that comes apart in sections.

      I mentally cause the missile to ignite and leave my hand to destroy a flying saucer. Even though it is less than a foot long, I have a close view of when it reaches the spacecraft (as if looking through a virtual telescope). I enjoy the explosion (as I usually do in this mode of dreaming).

      Over time, as more spaceships appear, I indulge in the same activity, several times, enjoying my pointless entertainment. I experiment with different visualizations and anticipation of the results. At one point, I send my rocket to a feature with the resemblance of a rocket booster (similar to the rectangular aft skirts in some science-fiction movies). From there, the rocket goes inside the middle of the spacecraft to blow it up.



      I ordinarily only end up doing things like this when I lose interest in sustaining sleep for longer, concerning creating a new dream scenario.


      Categories
      non-lucid
    15. Summoning Wrenches and a Gold Bar

      by , 04-24-2020 at 09:30 AM
      Morning of April 21, 2020. Tuesday.

      Dream #: 19,482-02. Reading time (optimized): 2 min.



      This dream is a typical random summoning type in instinctual mode, not much different as those from early childhood on, though in this one, I atypically abandon the usual vestibular system correlation in the last scene to remain in my dream (though there is no drop anticipation other than a lesser form stemming from my relaxed arm muscles during sleep, when I release the wrenches with liminal somatosensory integration), though, as a result, my dream self’s perceptual mode becomes incorporeal and non-dimensional, resulting in an exponential decrease in vividness, and I meander in slow flight (about four feet above the street) back through the unknown neighborhood, considering if I should reset my dream and start the narrative again or wake. I decide to wake.

      The main scene relates to using telekinesis to rapidly summon items into my hand to augment my dream’s imaginary somatosensory dynamics. I do this in an unfamiliar office building with one large room. I mostly summon random items, primarily wrenches of different sizes, an association with adjusting sleep-wake management.

      I have an association with gold coins to augment the process. However, as an incidental influence from having seen “Outer Banks” recently, a small gold bar (about the same size as in the Netflix series) quickly jumps into my hand from underneath papers strewn on a desk. I maintain a cheerful disposition. Other people are walking around but I do not interact with them. The sleep-wake manager, as an unknown male, enters my dream’s narrative as a result of a lesser association with the imaginary proprioception of dreaming. (A car is an extension of this, correlating with the imaginary physical body and its dynamics while dreaming.)

      I get into a car with him driving and my dream vivifies, with an increase in imaginary proprioception. I sit in the front while others sit in the back. It is assumed to be occurring in America, as the driver’s side is on the left. We travel through an unfamiliar neighborhood and I have no destination in mind (and not much of my waking-life identity is extant). After a time, I instinctually play around with the process. I give the sleep-wake manager the wrenches I had summoned. (I often hold a vertical bar of the bed’s head while sleeping, which increases the somatosensory dynamics of the dream state.) However, they fall through a narrow space between the front seats. I give him my gold bar.

      I phase from the car, losing my sense of imaginary proprioception and defined illusory physicality as I remain in my dream in incorporeal non-dimensional flight for a few minutes as described earlier. There are variations of the process. I sometimes phase through the roof of a vehicle, though I phased through the door in this instance. Phasing from the roof to fly is more likely to vivify a dream, though in one recent dream, I stayed on a bus as it dropped a full story to a perpendicular street below, vivifying and sustaining my dream for several minutes.


      Categories
      non-lucid
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