non-lucid

Morning of October 7, 2017. Saturday.

Dream #: 18,555-02. Reading time: 2 min 20 sec.



Before my dream, in waking life, I repeated an affirmation, “I invite the infinite healing power of Universal Mind into all areas of our bodies” (alternating with “my body”). Consider how a car is an extension of the imaginary physicality of the dream state and how “power” becomes “powder” (which has occurred with previous dreams). Another alteration is how my dreaming experience transformed my headphones (used for affirmations) into an intoxicating clamshell.

---

After entering the dream state, I allow my conscious awareness to fade for the affirmation to predominate. The affirmation seems to become a string attached to the front bumper of a Matchbox car. (I sometimes use an imaginary rope to pull myself into or out of the dream state.) The Matchbox car is a 1930s convertible. At times, I mentally cause it to become a full-sized automobile. I rapidly drive in an unknown big city while there is a focus on possibly being stopped for speeding. However, the police are always going in the opposite direction. Later, I shrink the car to its Matchbox size and carry it to a wharf.

The wharf is at the side of a road where a ladder leads down to a small platform adjacent to a commercial building. An unknown black man is here as well as Zsuzsanna. An unfamiliar woman asks if she can borrow my Matchbox car to sail across the ocean. I cause it to become large enough for her to fit in it, but I place it on a raft. I realize it may not be stable enough, so I tell her I do not think it is a reliable way to travel. Curiously, my hand seems to be as big as the raft as I test its buoyancy and how much weight it can hold.

I stand on the side of the road, and the man wants to borrow my car. I whistle for it, and it arrives as a Matchbox car from the other side of town but grows to full size. He gives me a roll of one-dollar notes. When he returns, I feel I should give him something. I hand him the handwritten affirmation (without realizing what it is) that had been in my wallet. I give him some other documents that feature unusual writing and symbols.

I enter a cave with the essence of a room in a house. A tunnel, like a long hallway, leads to its entrance. I whistle for my Matchbox car and notice the end of the string near the mouth of my cave. I pull my Matchbox car into the cave using the string. I see an opening in the cave wall to the left of the entrance.

I find several ancient artifacts and fossils. One is a ritual clamshell that generates an intoxicating “healing powder” that cavemen used. I slap the clamshell against my ears to become intoxicated, feeling bliss, and comfort.

As I am sitting on the cave’s floor, a shadowy caveman figure approaches, though he is more like an ancient ape with a manlike essence. He briefly touches me on the shoulder and knee and has a positive presence. He is like a benevolent spirit or an ancient ghost who goes to another part of the cave.

Steve Johnson (a classmate from years ago), and at least three other people, walk through the hallway into my cave. I tell them about the artifacts and “healing powder” and ask if they would like to improve their minds and bodies with it.

---

Morning of October 6, 2017. Friday.



Something has happened to my physical form, but possibly only as I am “sleeping”.

I think of myself as a paragraph of writing, in the form of a hazy cloud of about four feet long, hovering a few inches above our bed. Being a paragraph incarnate makes me feel somewhat vulnerable. I am aware of Zsuzsanna sleeping om my left, but my viewpoint is curiously from somewhere in the center of our bed at times.

Other than being only a hazy cluster of “words” hovering a short distance above our bed, there is a perception of having an additional “shell” at times, or some sort of armor, but which comes and goes. There is no viable perception of having a physical body. I vaguely remember an affirmation (“I am of the healing powers of Universal Mind”) but I do not fully grasp or sustain it.

I turn in my “sleep”. It is like a twisting that “rolls” from “head” to “foot” when I do. It occurs about four times. I am aware that having transformed into the form of a paragraph relates to my illness (food poisoning). I only feel slightly ill in the dream state.

Before I am fully awake, I start to realize aspects of this abstract dream’s source. It is quite old and it has been years since this memory was more present. Years ago, in an animated version (shown on television a few times) of “A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court”, there was a scene where a boy informed the main character that he was a page. The Connecticut Yankee responded by saying something like “A page? You’re no more than a paragraph.” Additionally, having the “armor” around my cloudy form relates to the (King Arthur) knight association with the story. The perceived “suit of armor” is obviously a biological symbol of wishing to be protected from the norovirus. The rest, including “being a paragraph”, is incidental to this association with the Mark Twain story, which I had not thought about for a long time.

---

Since early childhood, my non-lucid dreams, other than prescient or precognitive threads, have often resolved themselves in meaning in a form of light hypnopompic thinking (as well as reveal source patterns that created my dream in the first place), which is often carried directly into conscious afterthought (although this process is occasionally “replaced” by a false awakening where I am writing down my dream or talking about it with someone else). In a way, this has always been like having two dreams in succession, the original dream (often surreal or at least unusual and illogical) and the decoding of its meaning while waking or in a different (much lighter) level of unconsciousness. (It was not until I was about seventeen years old that I started to come to terms with the fact that most people were apparently not like this.)

---

Morning of October 4, 2017. Wednesday.



A task is given to me but the backstory is unclear. I find myself with two cans of paint and I believe I am supposed to paint two chests of drawers, one bigger than the other. I am painting (or apparently had been painting) in a sloppy way. There is a large uneven horizontal streak of orange paint at the bottom of the front with the drawers apparently being a bluish color. I notice that I had accidentally combined the two colors (dark orange and a darker yellow) into the container and I try to think of a way to separate the colors (which of course is not logical). However, I end up stirring the colors together even more, and as I do this, several other colors are seen in the mix. It then seems to be more of a dark blue and green color (which is illogical, as orange and yellow certainly do not produce any shade of blue or green). I think that maybe I will just use the one color, though the person who owns these apparent antiques might be dissatisfied. At one point, one chest of drawers has an uneven coat of an ugly dull blue color. I am annoyed, as both of my paint brushes are sticky and thick with paint, making them difficult to use competently.

I think about this situation as being of the wrong thing to do, as I consider that the furniture looks much better in its natural wood grain. It turns out I am right. The male who had given me the work to do did not want the chests of drawers painted. I do not talk to him directly, but I see him from a distance. He reminds me somewhat of the teacher I had for wood shop classes at WWTI, but also a little of the owner of the pawnshop in the same city (La Crosse). It is a different (unfamiliar) male of about twenty who tells me the other male did not want them painted, but varnished.

There is an unusual change in the situation without much thought about what had happened. Now it seems that I had not painted the chests of drawers at all, though this is actually a reset of my dream.

An unknown female (of about forty) is showing some people some furniture, mainly chests of drawers (all of them of a natural wood grain) in a sequence of about eight or so in an unknown location. I start to point out how great one of them looks. It is fancy. It has brass handles on all the drawers and narrower scroll work all around. (It does not look like any furniture I had seen in real life, at least not recently.) Two of them, including the fancy one on the right end of the series, are apparently the ones I had originally been painting but I do not consider how I reset my dream due to being annoyed. The other one I had been painting is about the fourth left of the fancy one.

---

The tendency to reset or “start my dream over” when I am dissatisfied with how it is going is of a curious type of non-lucid dream control that I have experienced naturally since early childhood.

---

Morning of October 1, 1982. Friday.



While in the northeast bedroom of the Loomis Street house, I am vaguely aware of the presence of duck hunters. Through the window, I see that the front yard is marshy. The streets are lightly flooded, which seems normal to my dream self, and related to the seasons.

Although there had been no perceived presence of the duck hunters being in the house at any point, there are a number of duck decoys sitting about in the house which they had still somehow apparently set up. I find this annoying and intrusive. I gather a few and place them outside, though remain wary of being shot at if I move a certain way. Curiously though, I soon do not feel that much in danger. I notice there is now less water on the streets (very common waking symbolism). The duck hunters actually seem to be gone. (The hunters in this case are this dream’s preconscious element. There is no “threat” as the waking transition has already activated via RAS.)

While trying to go back to sleep, I falsely recall that one of the wooden duck decoys was mine, having had it since very young, and being fond of it and frustrated about now possibly losing it. I am puzzled by the situation until I wake. (This is likely based on my feelings of nostalgia for the 1960s plastic model kit “The Visible Pigeon”, although I also had a duck decoy catalog as a teenager as I enjoyed collecting mail-order catalogs at that time.)

---

This is typified as “failed flight waking symbolism”, a very common waking transition dream component (a perfectly natural unconscious transmutation of the biological falling start, which has nothing to do with waking life or the conscious self as some extremely unintelligent people pretend), not meant to be in a negative context but as a result of a natural transition from sleeping to waking and the temporary puzzlement of being in liminal space and not being fully aware of one’s physical body while semi-conscious. My hypnopompic waking “jolt” is subdued here, which is directly related to the fake ducks, which are neither real nor can fly away (similar to any dream where a person otherwise falls, or an airplane crashes, a meteor is seen, or many other generic analogies to returning to wakeful consciousness, including climbing or using a staircase or a “flight” of stairs). Flight symbols in dreams are typically linked to real-time inner ear dynamics (loosely related to dizziness or falling sensations when awake) and RAS (reticular activating system) in subliminal anticipation of leaving the dream state. Flight symbols as such have occurred in at least one dream per sleeping period for over fifty years, which automatically renders “interpretation” (in the common superstitious usage of the term) as an invalid concept, not however, discounting literal prescience, literal practice events, or literal willful scripting of a dream (including viable healing affirmations).

---

Morning of September 29, 2017. Friday.



My dream self decides to rob a bank. My conscious self is partially extant in having memory of my marriage and family, though I also seem much younger physically and mentally, by several years before I was married.

I go into a bank. I have a revolver, but I never use it. I calmly sit down at a desk where an unfamiliar female is working. I give her a note that tells her to give me all the money. She calmly seems to begin to get some together and does not seem frightened.

At one point, the bank manager, an unfamiliar male, walks into the room from my left. He stands for a short time watching us but does not seem to suspect anything.

Eventually, the female hands me a large envelope. I take it and leave. I decide to become invisible, though I also phase through the wall of the bank in case there is security at the entrance. I fly around for several minutes, still maintaining invisibility. (This of course is non-lucid dream control. My subconscious self does not know I am dreaming, but a subliminal thread of my conscious self does.)

I end up at Marilyn’s house (Marilyn is an older half-sister on my mother’s side), except that I do not recall that she had died and she appears as she did in the 1980s. It is also not her house (as in America) as in real life but a variation of the Barolin Street house in Australia where Zsuzsanna and I and our family last lived. There also seem to be some elements of Evelyn’s house of which I last visited in real life at age five.

I think I see a police car stop in front of the house, though the top of the car soon seems to have some sort of metal part like a luggage rack rather than a police car’s strobe light device. At least five men, all of whom look exactly alike and are wearing some sort of yellowish-brown uniform, come into the house. I decide to hide in the basement via the trapdoor in the bathroom (though the Barolin Street house did not have a basement, this feature based on the Loomis Street house) but I soon change my mind when I see they are just visiting my relatives.

I open the large packet that I was given at the bank. I first seem to see colorful foreign money, but then I realize there is no money in the packet. There are a few documents. There are a few pieces of paper with poetry about family. There are also a number of small transparent packets of herbs which she apparently thought would benefit me. One of the packets apparently contains alfalfa, yet it actually says “alpaca” on the label. I puzzle over this until my dream fades.

---

Morning of September 28, 2017. Thursday.



I am in a state of semi-lucidity, slowly becoming aware that our bedroom is transmuting into the northeast bedroom of the Loomis Street house (a place I have not been in real life for over twenty years and unlikely to ever be again). I eventually focus upon the essence of sleep, which in the dream state, is symbolized by water and recognized as such (and has been for over fifty years on a day to day basis). Water begins to flow down Loomis Street from the north. It is a flood, but not a threatening flood. I feel very relaxed and peaceful. I vividly feel small splashes of water reaching me through the window screen, which vivifies my level of dream state awareness.

There is some sort of unusual ambiguous imagery just outside the window. It relates to a child in pajamas holding a teddy bear, but is viewed through the screen as an undersized silhouette. Conscious self identity threads are lessened and I am no longer lucid in any way regardless of the increase in vividness. I have no major concern about flood waters flowing into the house, only that some of my dream journals might become damp.

I wander off to the west bedroom where my mother (July 14, 1916-October 2, 2002) is sitting on her bed. In this dream, at this point, I have no memory at all of my older sister Marilyn (April 25, 1942-Februay 13, 2014) whose house it mainly was.

“Someone left the floodgates open,” I tell my mother somewhat absentmindedly (forgetting that it was me who initiated and released this dream’s content and continuity with deliberate water induction and the original focus on release and blissful relaxation). Although it seemed late at night seconds previously, it now seems to be afternoon as I notice daylight through the window of her room. However, the area beyond the backyard and alley is completely different than in reality as there is no shed visible and no residential homes. All that is visible are some commercial buildings in the distance, about two blocks away.

My mother makes some sort of comment about access to the store being blocked by flood waters, and there is some sort of vague association with the checkout of a store (a common end marker of the dream state for me). Upon having this semi-lucid thought, and remembering more about my present conscious self and the fact that I am married and have children, I slowly fade from the dream state with soft (semi-lucid) intent and a very soft awakening.

---

Water, including non-threatening floods as a dream state induction factor, has occurred continuously all my life, long before virtually endless meditation and relaxation recordings utilized the sound of water to bring about relaxation or sleep. I will hear or otherwise perceive water as soon as I enter into a more relaxed state with less emotions present. Water as the primary symbol for sleep (and sleep dynamics in real time) is also analogous to how people spend the first months of their existence sleeping in the waters of the womb. As a result, it is probably my most common dream foundation marker.

My mother has, in more recent dreams, become more of a dream state end marker loosely associated with my wife Zsuzsanna than more direct associations with her as in the past. This is evidenced by her mainly appearing in the last scene of a dream where she is sitting on her bed (residual recall of having fallen asleep). Although Zsuzsanna appears in many of my dreams (where more of my present conscious self identity remains at least partially intact), the association with her also being a mother has, over time, altered dream state markers in some cases. However, despite Zsuzsanna having been a mother for a number of years, this symbolic transfer and marker integration is fairly recent (probably because she is now nearer my mother’s age when I was born). Being more of an emergent consciousness precursor than a preconscious factor, there is no conflict in such dreams, especially in already subliminally acknowledging this waking mechanism. (My mother was the one who usually woke me up throughout my childhood.)

Both watching the non-threatening flood waters flow and the silhouette of the boy in pajamas with the teddy bear represent the same thing…sleep, so this is a type of parallel symbolism that my dreams often render. (Someone being in pajamas was far less of an initiation factor even in early childhood, even being a fan of “Little Nemo”, though other dream state indicators such as beds and pillows are quite common.)

Even though a shadow of a person or a silhouette represents the lesser presence of my conscious self identity, it is slightly puzzling here as viewed through a window screen. This is because focus on a window screen has been validated to relate to some form of transpersonal communication or shared dreaming. Ordinarily, at least in lucid dreams, I sometimes indulge in “shadow play”; that is, I “test” the shadow to verify that it is actually my conscious self identity and it always is, even in a dream where it was very far away and standing on a bridge.

---

Morning of September 26, 2017. Tuesday.



Dream Series: The Experience of Prescience, the Inexplicable Dream State Phenomenon. Part 1

---

My wife Zsuzsanna and our children (mostly as we appear now in reality) are living in a house that is similar to our present home (and implied to be our present home), though it has a fictional second storey.

Over time, I become aware that the sun is too hot. I mostly become aware of this upon going to the second floor with Zsuzsanna, which is mostly featureless and resembles the second floor of the Loomis Street house when the apartment was empty, as there is a singular window on one side of the large room and a ceiling sloped on both sides. (I have not been in this house in real life since 1994.) I feel intense heat and so I realize that we need to go back downstairs. I assume that the world is ending, but I do not feel very emotional about it. I tell our youngest son that the world will be burned up soon. Still, I want all of our family together for “the end”.

In the last segment of my dream, we all go into our oldest son’s room. Zsuzsanna and most of our children are present in the room. Our oldest son is seemingly not present at this time and I become concerned about his well-being. Eventually, Zsuzsanna and our youngest son slide out a cardboard storage box from under our oldest son’s bed (in the same location as it is in reality). (The large cardboard box has similar colors and sparse imagery as that otherwise found on a pizza box.) Our oldest son is sleeping in it. I am relieved, though I still have concern about his health and hope he will wake soon.

---

Friday, 30 March 2018: What I presently understand about this dream, based on the following real-life event: From exactly one week after this dream, in real life, our oldest son had to spend four days in the hospital from severe food poisoning where I then held the same mood that my dream self had.

Despite The Sleeper factor (as well as the rendering of the bed) otherwise being a common dream state indicator since early childhood, signifying the subliminal recognition of being asleep, it was specifically linked to very detailed prescience in this case. Our oldest son being in a cardboard storage box under his bed seems to be a subliminal association with both a pizza box and a coffin, and as such, could have been a very specific warning had I paid more attention.

Additionally, on November 7, our oldest son’s room is where my family gathered for protection from the storm, though this proved to be futile, as the roof had been torn off and rain poured through the ceiling, though of course it was not the literal end of the world.

Dreams in which there is “something wrong with the sun” have been very common since early childhood. The usual cause of this is based on the conscious self identity not being viable within the dream state, as the sun symbolizes the conscious self identity in the context of clarity of awareness and with viable thinking skills (which do not otherwise exist in the dream state). Some people might catch the play on “something wrong with the sun” regarding our son, as he did have a fever in his severe illness. This specific association could be coincidence, but since the validated-as-premonitory thread “something wrong with my son” could very well be the autosymbolic trigger in this case, it might not be coincidental.

It may also be relevant that the Loomis Street second-floor window is to the east in reality, and this is where our oldest son sleeps in orientation to where Zsuzsanna and I sleep, as a window has been validated long ago to signify unconscious communication with someone else in some cases.

The fictional second floor implied to be of our present home is possibly a transpersonal factor (interconsciousness) related to a certain band of liminal space (though is otherwise only an emergent consciousness factor). Dreams that are dominantly prescient also typically lack the usual RAS mediation found in other dream types.

---

Morning of September 22, 2017. Friday.



In my dream, we are living in a distorted version of the Loomis Street house (where I have not been since February of 1994 and where Zsuzsanna and our children had never been). However, I have no recall that it was actually my sister Marilyn and her husband (of whom I have no thoughts of at all in my dream) whose house it mainly was.

In the first part of my dream, I am watching a nautilus on top of the kitchen counter. Rather than this part of the kitchen counter being in the actual kitchen along the west wall, it is along the west wall of the dining room left of the west doorway. I had been sitting at the dining room table. Although the nautilus is otherwise a water denizen (and probably a feature of the very common water induction as dream state initiation), it moves along the counter, seemingly healthy, seemingly breathing the air. I feed it some pieces of cereal and watch it eat. It faces to the left in profile.

Over time, I realize that the nautilus was part of an aquarium based on Lego block creations. There are an unrealistic number of boxes of Lego kits throughout the living room and dining room. The aquarium with the Lego features in it belongs to our youngest son. In the later scene, after the nautilus had been in the aquarium for several minutes, I notice that it may be dying, as it spews blood and is also bleeding from underneath its shell. I learn that our son had paid $80.00 for the “kit”. However, it does not make much sense as I also learn that the people who sold it want it back - yet $230.00 must be paid for them to have it again (which of course makes no sense at all). However, because the nautilus will soon be dead, the scenario is problematic. I am very annoyed. I am not sure what we will do. The creature is still breathing, but I do not think it will live.

I become distracted when I notice three men lying on the ground just outside the south area of the house, sleeping. It seems to be late morning. I see them through the bay window. They are parallel to each other but are sleeping in informal clothes. Soon, one wakes and phases through the wall. This makes me annoyed and I jab my Olympic barbell (no weights) into his neck and hold him down on the floor with it. He is standing at one point, but I punch him. He becomes a sheet of notebook paper, which I tear into several pieces.

---

This dream, as is usually the case with at least one dream per day, was partly based on something my wife Zsuzsanna had seen that I could not have known about. She had seen a movie yesterday morning (with some of our children) that had Lego in it, and a Lego aquarium as with my dream (and at the beginning of that movie). No one ever mentioned anything about this prior to my dream. This sort of event has been validated to have happened long before I even met Zsuzsanna (when she also appeared in my dreams as my “mystery girl” with the exact appearance and unlikely mixed accent of Romani Hungarian and Australian, as well as actual Persian associations as with some dreams).

---

Morning of September 22, 2017. Friday.

Dream #: 18,540-03. Reading time: 1 min 42 sec.



In the morning, I am near a store’s checkout like Woolworths (where we shop in real life). Zsuzsanna is nearby. There are unknown people present. A man who looks like Javier Bardem (my dream’s preconscious simulacrum) is by one of the aisles adjacent to the left end of the store (when inside). Zsuzsanna and I are openly intimate (mainly because of associations with the store being our present home).

An unfamiliar girl is present who I am unsure is Javier’s wife or not. Somebody is talking about Christmas music. I sing loudly and sarcastically, a line from “Oh Holy Night,” which is “Fall on your knees.” (I had read about the song “Lola” by The Kinks yesterday, which has the suggestive line, “I got down on my knees.”) The girl obeys me and sits on the floor on her knees. I eventually consider it is time to leave, yet it is also like the bedroom of our present home, though still Woolworths, despite the blankets on the floor. I do not reflect upon this impossibility.

Javier is packing something into a bag. (I loosely associate it with the sack Santa Claus carries.) It is sitting to the right of the last checkout. I absentmindedly put an unplugged alarm clock into it. I see what I think is a pair of blue jeans of mine and take them out. (I am unsure if I am wearing pants, but that does not concern me.) Javier looks at me, annoyingly. I consider the pants are his, but the clock is mine.

“What are you doing?” he says with irritation. “It’s time to leave the dream state. Plug that thing back in.” I put the pants back in the bag, but I soon wake while retrieving and holding the alarm clock.

---

A store’s checkout correlates with the anticipation of the end of the dream. The alarm clock also represents that. The unworn pants stem from my subliminal awareness I am undressed while sleeping.

---

It is crucial to add an update that the religious mood and theme and sense of obeying someone as regarding the movie “Mother!” (originally released a week or so before my dream, but which I had not seen or heard of until about two years later), and starring Javier Bardem as God (or “Him”), seems to have been an inexplicable enigmatic influence for part of my dream’s content. As the movie already existed, it is not pure precognition other than from my viewpoint. Zsuzsanna and I consider it one of the most pointless, wretched, and disturbing movies ever commercially released.

---

Morning of September 20, 2017. Wednesday.



This dream is vivid from start to finish even though I deliberately change my identity twice (by way of non-lucid dream control). Instead of my most common form of dream state initiation (water, which symbolizes the real-time dynamics of sleep), it begins with another very common dream state indicator, that is, “still” being in bed. (The difference of course relates to sleeping in the waters of the womb in the first months of life in contrast to sleeping in bed, though the dream state initiation form may be incidental.) My dream self’s memory is mostly limited to not much beyond the age of twenty.

The bed turns out to be in a new version of the Loomis Street house. It is in the living room. There is much more space on the north side of the room than there was in reality and there is also a vague association with our Gellibrand Street apartment of years ago (though I do not reflect upon this while in my dream). The bed is in the northeast corner of the room, aligned to the north wall. I am on the left side (which is atypical as I have mostly been on the right side in recent years when sleeping with Zsuzsanna, though this is probably related to subliminal reinduction). My brother-in-law Bob had been sleeping on the right side. My sister Marilyn is alive and as she was in the late 1970s (with no memory of her having died in 2014). She has not yet decided to go to sleep. I am seemingly aware my mother had recently died (though she died in 2002).

Anita comes in through the front door and asks Marilyn if she had been in the bed sleeping, mentioning “all five people” in the bed (even though I had only been aware of Bob being in the bed). I turn more to my left, very close to the edge of the bed. It seems that Anita had picked up and kept an American quarter that had fallen out of my shirt pocket. More coins fall onto the floor from my left shirt pocket, including at least three American quarters and a few nickels and dimes, but these I retrieve and put in my right pants pocket (as I am apparently wearing blue jeans in bed).

I then get up and start practicing telekinesis by willing objects to fly into my right hand, mostly cups, empty soda cans, and dishes. “Did you see that?” I keep asking Anita and Marilyn. There is no surprise from them.

I go outside and it seems to be late morning (even though it had been nighttime seconds before). I fly about six feet above the ground but mostly hover and loudly screech. The unfamiliar neighbor to the south has a few children playing in his yard. I decide to go over, via the alley, and apologize for my behavior, as it may have frightened them. I explain to the man that I am “Carrie’s brother”. For a short time, I puzzle over the timeline possibly being wrong, as Carrie and I are supposedly around the same age and I perceive it may be the late 1980s. I then show him my telekinetic ability. I will small items to fly into my hand from a distance as well as an empty cardboard box that had been put out for the garbage collectors. The other male seems curious but not afraid. “I can lift a house,” I explain, “or a car”. (I have the usual false memory that a house can be lifted into the air and set back down with telekinesis without destroying the foundation, plumbing, or electrical connections.)

There are many scenes after this where I go into a building and show my telekinetic abilities to several other unfamiliar people, mostly males of about twenty. I continuously will, over and over, mainly cups (though other items as well) to fly into my right hand. I perform such acts at least thirty times as others watch with mild interest. It seems effortless and triggered by softly imagining the feeling of already having it in my hand. I also eventually cause cups to slide across the table away from me (not nearly as common a dream event as willing them to me). The others find it amusing when I do this. For some reason, this seems more important and impressive than drawing objects to me.

I then decide to be Carrie herself. I am beginning what seems like eighth grade in an unknown school. While sitting at a long table with a few others in a row, I will pencils to fly into my hand from the table in front of us. One unfamiliar boy directly to my left looks at me and the pencils flying from the other table into my hand, but does not react - as if he cannot see or understand the world around him. He looks somewhat arrogant but completely clueless. I reason that, unlike the previous witnesses, many young people have no perception or understanding of the world around them, so unusual or unexplainable events are not perceived as such at all.

From here, I notice that the top layer of skin has come off around the base of my thumb and partly across the palm. There are clumps of dead skin here and there that I peel off. The flesh underneath is pure white and very soft and smooth. Curiously, I do not notice that my hand is reversed in orientation, that is, when my palm is up, my left thumb is on the right (instead of my left thumb being outward to the left with my palm up as it should be). It is very vivid, with an augmented sense of touch (though no pain) and I never take more notice to this impossible hand orientation despite the clarity.

In the last scene, I fly around above Sill Street, mostly to the west. (This is a very illogical location and focus for my dreams, as it was of little significance in real life and not seen at all since 1994, and yet has peculiarly become more common over the last few years.) This seems more of the closing credits to a movie. Curiously, instead of music associated with “Carrie” (1976), I hear an altered version of the lyrics and music from “Sybil” (1976 television miniseries). However, these are the same incorrect lyrics I sang in the 1970s, even playing the music on my accordion and electronic organs. I perceive Carrie (Sissy Spacek) as singing them. Instead of “Mirror mirror in my mind”, I always sang “Mirror mirror in my heart” (so much so, the real lyrics now sound “wrong” to me). Instead of “Come as a dream, ribbons of rhymes”, I sang it as “Fashions and swirls, ribbons and curls”.

Interestingly, Anita’s reference to supposedly five people having been in the bed may have deliberately foreshadowed me playing the two other roles before waking. Coins often relate to coalescence and the level of subliminally perceived neural activity in the dream state. Since early childhood, I have always been aware of very distinct differences between dream self modes, including passively non-lucid, non-lucid but willful, non-lucidly in control (being aware of making and controlling “my world” though with no direct recall of what a dream is), passive lucidity, willful lucidity, apex lucidity (total and sustained willful conscious creation and automatic linear control of the dream including deliberately symbolic waking transitions based on fifty years of day to day experience where certain long-term forms of conscious thought automatically integrate into unconscious states), and other distinct levels of unconsciousness, including entirely abstract where my existence seems to be as a letter of the alphabet or geometrical form, sometimes with unusual and unique mental rituals, or the repeating of a phrase to “perfectly” assume a physical position prior to waking.

---

Morning of September 16, 2017. Saturday.

Reading time: 3 min 34 sec. Readability score: 75.



My dream atypically begins in liminal space of the type that is usually an end marker, which a parking lot represents. The main characters other than myself are Ray Romano from “Everybody Loves Raymond” though his wife is Jane Wyatt as from the much older television show “Father Knows Best.“ Ray, Jane, their fictional daughter (who seems like a young version of Zsuzsanna, though my dream self does not recognize her as such), and I are in a dark blue pickup truck. I am in the cab, but I later ride in the back with their daughter.

An additional recurring dream state indicator (other than the parking lot) is the pickup truck itself (due to the play on “bed”). The first situation relates to an appointment made by her parents (I assume with no choice in the matter), because of a government agency coming to take their daughter to place her in a group home for specialized foster care. When other men arrive, parking at a distance from the truck, I take out a small cylindrical rod with a button on one end. I push it, and it transforms into a large pistol. I shoot at the car. After my third shot, it explodes dramatically and consumes four or five unoccupied cars near it.

An unknown man on the opposite side of the truck looks on in a puzzled manner. He does not leave the area of his car. He stands behind its open driver’s side door. So as I do not get found with a gun on me, I press a button on the gun’s handle, and it changes back into the small rod.

I ride in the back with their daughter. I tell Ray to drive down a particular road. Curiously, there are automatically operating French doors set up across part of it. (They are not a part of a building.) We go through these doors. I explain to their daughter about her need to grow up in a family environment with her real parents instead of by the government, which often results in cognitive dissonance through half-attained brainwashing. We talk for a long time, though I do not recall every detail. I agree with her that while some parents are not capable of viably raising children, that does not mean the government should have all children under their observation or utilize profiling based on race or cultural background.

I am aware of owning an expansive organization and area of land in which people live as they want as long as there is no crime. We arrive there, and the family makes plans for their living arrangements.

Before the three new people move into their new home, I talk about the confirmation of their state of health. The daughter says I am not a doctor. “Yes, I am,” I confidently reply.

I press a button on my device, and it transforms into an unusual machine. Parts grow out as a result of nanite activity. It resembles an oversized embossing label maker. The girl kneels down, and I look at the top of the device as I hold it directly over her head. It has scanned her entire body for any health issues and reports (by the print that appears on the surface of the top) that there are no concerns. I have Jane kneel as well. The device does not display any potential problems. Ray seems to have a cholesterol issue, but I will address that later.

An unfamiliar young black man is present. He seems to know me well. I ask him how his friends and family are. They are well. I go into a large room that has an ambiguous outdoors area on one side (a commonly recurring dream distortion that is impossible to resolve consciously). There are others in the room. One male is hunting for food. He shoots at a strange figure that runs behind trees and to the left. “Was that the Tasmanian Devil?” I ask cheerfully (though it looked more like a bizarre cartoon rabbit with human legs and wearing track shorts).

I feel a change in my level of consciousness, so I go down a flight of steps to vivify my dream. (This is even though I am not lucid. However, long-term knowledge of reactive representation often carries over into the dream state).

I am in a featureless field (a dream setting that represents an "empty” area of waking space). I decide to fly but not that far above the ground. I fly stomach down and use my arms to gain speed by pushing down against the ground to propel myself forward. I enjoy this more and more. I feel it will make me stronger in the arms while not tiring the rest of my body. I am aware of Leonard S (my pinhead friend from King Street). He is standing near a storefront that comes into view to my left. I am also aware of an older unknown male whom I feel may benefit from flying in the way I am as I consider he may need to strengthen his heart muscles in a less stressful way. (He seems about seventy years old.) I continue to fly this way. When I wake, my right hand is pushing down on the mattress though I am only partly on my stomach by way of my left side.

---

Morning of September 15, 2017. Friday.



I am in a library that is not very well-defined and in fact seems to be “blank” on two sides. I am with two unfamiliar people, a younger male and younger female. They seem puzzled about where they are. A door is partly open behind us.

An unfamiliar older male appears in front of us (though more as if there the whole time). He makes a remark about “holding the door” so that we can leave the dream (though I am not fully lucid). “This is the waking transition,” he says. “Only this and nothing more.” (This is a line from Edgar Allan Poe’s poem “The Raven”.)

Four miniature birds quickly protrude from between his lips. The little birds are in a two by two arrangement (that is, two rows of two). I recognize the one on the upper left as a miniature blue crowned pigeon. (All four exotic birds are of a different species.) The impression is created that the man’s “tongue” (somehow made of the four birds) is pointing to the door on the opposite side of the room to show us the way out.

---

Despite my waking symbolism being of the same basic patterns for over fifty years, it is always quite different in how it is specifically rendered. This dream combines doorway waking symbolism (of the threshold type - meaning threshold of real-time level of consciousness) with return flight waking symbolism.

Doorway waking symbolism is when RAS designates the potential exit point of the dream state as a doorway. (The reticular activating system or RAS is a set of connected nuclei that is responsible for regulating wakefulness and sleep-wake transition and is behind the formation of waking symbolism as such, often in my case by way of the personified preconscious, which is usually unrelated to real life, other than sometimes triggered by environmental noise or change in perceived light through the veil of sleep, but in my case, often linked to the transpersonal Source with prescience.)

Return flight waking symbolism (inherent to the dream state itself based on being unconscious - even used as such in comic strips and movies by showing birds flying around someone’s head when knocked out) occurs in over twenty percent of my non-lucid dreams, and has for over fifty years. This is also based on RAS due to the biological dynamics of the inner ear often triggering a falling sensation upon the return to wakeful consciousness. This is automatically unconsciously associated with birds, airplanes, flying under one’s own power, UFOs, and other flight symbols.

A library typically represents having more of the conscious self identity present within the dream state (due to the growing neural energy required to read and better understand text).

---

Morning of September 13, 2017. Wednesday.



The main setting of my dream seems to be a larger variation of our bedroom in the house on Stadcor Street in Brisbane, where we have not lived in years. This seems to be the more dominant awareness of such due to that house’s kitchen being nearby in my dream’s layout and somewhat similar to real life, though there is also a vague association with the southwest Cubitis bedroom.

In addition to a young version of my wife Zsuzsanna, there are four female “angels” or devoted “dream servants” present, though their behavior is atypical as my dream is non-lucid and they seem like my “protectors” as well (this being a non-lucid subliminal carryover from the nature of apex lucidity and unrelated to my real life). One of them is the (retired) actress Leelee Sobieski, seeming about twenty-five. I eventually become annoyed with her as she seems to have a contrary mindset at one point. I bump into Leelee while I am intimate with Zsuzsanna (while Leelee is facing away from us). This physical contact annoys Leelee and her annoyance annoys me (and makes me suspicious yet not lucid), so I conclude her “devotion” is pretense despite her being a “guardian”. However, any perception of conflict soon fades.

In a scene in the kitchen, I have an electronic musical keyboard. I am thinking about recording some music for a new track. My mother is now present. (My dream self does not recall that she had died in 2002.) Pressing some of the keys, I see that one of them (seemingly a B key near the center of my keyboard) seems either loose or stuck due to the power cord somehow having been wrapped under the key. My mother tells me that she had done this (though unknowingly causing the problem), which makes me very annoyed as I am not sure if the key can be fixed as it seems broken or at least different in response to the other keys. I still want to play some music.

I soon notice a tiny hairless creature that I first think is dead. It is lying between the A and B keys near the middle of my keyboard. I feel a sense of disgust in thinking that it may be a small rat fetus. However, over time, it begins to move and then breathe and gasp. “Oh…It’s a dog fetus,” I say aloud to the others present in casual matter-of-fact observation.

Earl (an older half-brother on my mother’s side) is soon present. (My dream self does not recall that he had died in 2007.) The tiny hairless puppy, not much bigger than my thumb, is making unusual motions with its mouth (reminiscent of the “baby” in the movie “Eraserhead” from 1977). I wonder if it will even live, but I consider that Earl should put it with its mother to suckle. I have a wholly unexplainable false memory that Earl has a small dark gray cairn terrier that is likely its mother. The tiny “puppy” has an unusual brief feature on the top of its head that looks like an angular cap (though without the brim) of the kind a policeman or postman would wear, though it blends in with its head like an actual darker physical feature relating to its minimal fur. I know that my mind is creating this association somehow but it does not trigger lucidity.

In the last scene, I have a meal with the four “angels”, Zsuzsanna, my mother, and Earl. My keyboard seems unrealistically bigger and oversized, and we seem to be using it as a table. Along with other food, which seems mostly normal to me, I also seem to have eaten much of the puppy except for its head, though the imagery is quite magnified. I feel a bit strange, but then I realize it is not the original puppy, but a “copy” of it, and that the “real” one is with its mother. At this point, my dream becomes more abstract and fades without a direct waking prompt.

---

Foundational dream state indicators (no present relevance to real life): Our previous bedroom in Brisbane synthesized with my parents’ bedroom of Cubitis is simply based on concurrent subliminal threads of awareness of having gone to bed and additionally perceiving Zsuzsanna and I as parents.

There are multiple reasons as to why Leelee Sobieski appeared in this dream, yet all of them unrelated to real-life symbolism and linked directly to the Reticular Activating System and real-time preconscious dynamics of the dream state. Reason number one stems from having briefly and randomly looked at details on IMDb of the 2007 movie “Walk All Over Me”. I only watched the first few minutes (and will watch it later with Zsuzsanna). She plays Alberta and appears as a cashier in the first few minutes, and the preconscious sometimes takes the form of a cashier to symbolize “checking out” of the dream state (as a lifelong recognized RAS function). Reason number two stems from her role in the 1998 movie “Deep Impact”, which has a theme analogous to the cessation of the dream state (“end of the world” association, symbolically unrelated to real life in this case). Reason number three comes from her role as Joan of Arc as associated with “divine voices and visions” and being in the dream state. Reason number four stems from her no longer being in movies as analogous to the waking precursor (“watching movies” as analogous to dreaming, though there may also be a play on “retired” as in going to bed).

The power cord wrapped under the key is a dream state indicator (unrelated to present waking life) that no pretend “dream interpreter” could possibly have a clue about. Here is why: When I lived in America, I sometimes used to script dreams in real time by using affirmations in a digital sampling keyboard and did in fact, cause a key to stay down with the power cord holding it. In fact, the irony of this plays off of itself. In one real-time scripted vivid dream when I was young, I was distracted in trying to find the real audio source in order to turn it off. I was in a hallway with various doors and could not tell where the real sound was coming from. This is possibly one of the most hilarious failures of critical thinking skills in an otherwise vivid lucid dream.

The last part of my dream is based on new ideas in my approach to newer music (as symbolized by the puppy needing to develop more). It is also an odd form of coalescence in “feeding off” my dream state (and the dream self coalescing back into consciousness). Also, as in uncountable past dreams, I was vaguely aware that I was consciously creating my dream (even though I was not lucid in any viable way), mostly only vaguely discernible in the scene where my focus on the “dead rat fetus” willed it to change into the living tiny hairless puppy. The focus on it coming to life and breathing relates to both waking up and very mild sleep apnea that is usually not a problem for me. Additionally, there are “end markers” here I do not typically go into detail about in an entry. For example, the B key represents the end of an octave and where there is no black key to the right of it, as a play on coming out of the unconscious state of dreaming, no more liminal space implied by the next white C key after the white B key.

---

Morning of September 11, 2017. Monday.



My dream is non-lucid, yet I am aware at one level that I am making my world and the events that unfold and I understand my dream’s autosymbolism while I am in it without recalling what a dream is.

I am with my wife Zsuzsanna on a city bus. I am aware that the setting seems to be the north side of La Crosse (though Zsuzsanna has never been in America in real life).

The bus is rendered incorrectly. Although it seems to be in America and the bus driver seems like a bus driver of whom I knew in real life (also in America), the driver’s side is on the right and the doors are on the left. My dream self does not consider this as wrong though. Zsuzsanna and I are on the right, only a couple seats back from the driver.

Over time, I am uncertain of our destination or of any cohesive backstory. There is a scene where the bus stops near an intersection. I have somewhat of an expectation that it will turn to the right and softly bump the back of a parked car and it does. The driver does not seem alarmed or surprised, but cheerfully comments “oops” and backs the bus up and turns to the left.

I realize that where we get off has something to do with me waking from the dream state. I remember that a bus ride symbolizes the return to consciousness (and that waking symbolism is “correctly” oriented to my right), and yet somehow, my dream self does not maintain viable lucidity or the viable memory of what a dream actually is. (This is difficult to resolve in conscious afterthought but is a fairly common way of thinking in my non-lucid dreams. It is what it is. It is probably a result of over fifty continuous years of dream documentation and study, and resolving most of them.)

I do not consider that I could just wake up by willing it (even as in certain non-lucid dreams) as I have done in many past dreams. I think that the bus stop I have to get off at in order to achieve consciousness is on the right side of the street when going south and is near the Rivoli Theatre (the bus stop sign being unrealistically high, nearly as high as a traffic light), but I do wake before we reach the area.

---

Time and time again, for over fifty years, I have written about how the preconscious is never dominant or aggressive (other than when biologically premonitory) when I am already willingly in the waking transition (albeit, typically subliminal as such), and it is as true here as always. Here, the preconscious (bus driver) even cheerfully allows me to deliberately cause the bus that he is otherwise driving to softly bump into a car by (subliminal) mental will before moving on. (This bump is likely symbolic of Zsuzsanna and I softly bumping each other while sleeping, since vehicles typically symbolize the human body or holding the mode of unconsciousness in real time.)

---

Morning of September 11, 2017. Monday.



I am walking with two unknown males, a situation of which continued from a very long previous dream sequence. I think about robbing a place, but the details are not clear yet. I eventually realize that I am carrying a Glock pistol. Soon, I “realize” that I am a black female of perhaps about twenty-five years old.

It seems late at night. I go into a small trailer park in an open field where a dense forest is to my left. An unknown black female, but of whom is apparently known to the character I presently am, complains about me being there to rob her again (though I do not recall any backstory for this). Other than that, she does not seem alarmed by my gun. She opens a couple drawers in a large chest of drawers in her trailer. There is a bundle of one-hundred-dollar bills in an even stack, partly wrapped in cellophane. There is also a roll of fifty-dollar bills held together with a rubber band. There are also numerous rolls of coins. I tell her to keep some of the money, including the roll of fifties, but she insists that I take all of it. I put everything in two bags. There are several other items besides the American money, including bottles of perfume and shampoo and small items of clothing. I leave the trailer park, walking briskly east. I see a couple others outside of their trailers on my right, one an older black male of about sixty.

Somehow, it is suddenly daylight now, possibly early afternoon. I am with two unknown Caucasian males (though one reminds me vaguely of Don K from the early 1980s). I am seemingly now a male character, though not fully myself and perhaps about twenty years old. We seem to be going west on Sill Street, having gone past Wood Street and possibly Kane Street. I decide to toss my gun on the ground near the intersection near the trunk of a tree so I am not armed if caught (thinking I would be in less trouble). Still, I consider that may not be a good idea as a child might find it. The others and I continue, but eventually turn right to go north. I continue to carry my two bags.

We seem happy until one of the males looks back and sees another male who apparently knows us. It may be that he will cause trouble or at least be annoying if he sees us and catches up with us. The male who recognizes this other male tells us all to go our separate ways. “I have to try to wake him up,” he says in an authoritative tone. He goes across the front lawns of a few houses on the right side of the street and I am still following him, unsure of the situation. He yells with frustration and waves me off, indicating to me not to follow him. The male who had been behind us is apparently sleepwalking. He has long black hair and a long black beard and has on blue jeans but no shoes, socks, or shirt. He starts cheerfully talking to the male that seems to know who he is. “I can’t understand anything you’re saying,” the sleepwalking male is told, “You’re speaking gibberish”.

I continue to go north a short distance, but then turn around to go through a very narrow residential alley back southward. I am slightly concerned that I might annoy people by going through or close to their backyards but I do not see anyone. At the end of the alley are two closed chain-link gates about chest-high, side by side. Each of the two gates is for a different house, which makes no sense, as the alley goes past all houses on the block and the gates are adjacent to the public sidewalk. Before I get to them, I have to climb quickly up over a couple large full garbage bags and some other objects. At first, I think the gates might be locked, but I am able to open them by turning a horizontal L-shaped bolt lock. The detail is very vivid and realistic in appearance (but unlike any setting I had ever seen in real life). The sense of physical momentum and touch is vivid as well.

A few police officers approach me and look in my bags and ask me where I am going. I see that there are a lot of rolls of coins in them. I insist that everything is mine, but they seem condescending. While pretending that I am totally innocent, I am eventually able to get away. One policewoman seems to think I am okay and seems to see me as being victimized by the other officers. However, a chubby male officer seems determined that I will be caught again and found to have robbed someone, or possibly a bank.

I somehow end up going through the second floor of a business building. There are a few times when I fly after getting outside again, but I end up walking again, as my two bags are heavy. I somehow end up back near Sill and Kane and recall how I had deliberately thrown my gun there (at the northeast corner) but I do not see it. It is daylight at this time.

I am now briskly walking south through the north side of La Crosse (except that it looks more like the south side) and it seems to be night once again. I somehow have my gun again without contemplating that I had gotten rid of it. I am the black female character again. I make sure my gun is holstered in the front of my pants and unseen. I am thinking of finding the Loomis Street house to hide out even though that does not make sense as I am supposedly someone else. I vaguely recall that my sister had died but that my brother-in-law may be there (though they had actually moved prior to my sister’s death, though I was living in Australia by that time). I continue to carry the two cloth bags of money and other items, one in each hand. I notice that about eight people are running towards me, though not directly towards me. I think they may have attempted to rob a closed business but none of them are carrying anything. Police cars go by but they curiously do not stop. (The scene of these looters, including their appearance, was very similar to something I did not know about until after this dream and seeing it on the news, so I am considering this part as prescient.)

I cross the street (which may be a distorted version of Loomis Street, though too commercial) to my right and turn right down a very narrow alley with tall commercial buildings on each side. The alley is not wide enough for a car to follow me through and is at least two city blocks long. However, nearing the opening ahead, I see a puff of smoke going past the edge of a building on the left side of the end of the alley at about head level. It is the chubby policeman, who is smoking a cigarette, who had vowed to catch me. I knock him in the head with my heavy bags and knock him over. The police woman, who seems to be on my side, is possibly going to help me escape now.

---

The preconscious modelling itself artificially, or mimicking itself, in needing to wake another dream character (instead of me) is about as surreal and unusual as it gets (even stranger than a false awakening where I am writing down or telling someone about my previous dream). The threads of my dream self identity changing a few times (without any focus on that dynamic) is rather odd as well.

---