non-lucid

Morning of February 7, 2017. Tuesday.



I become intensely aware and feel cheerful, though I am not lucid, during what seems to be the last stages of someone leaving an area that he had been caught trespassing in late at night. I am not regarded by any of the characters in this situation even though I am fully physically present. The owner of the land remains at the rear of a guard’s large building, giving warnings to the other male who had trespassed. This other male however, is now with a guard at the front of the building. I watch him and the guard through the window from outside (on the left side of the building when looking at the front). Each time that the owner of the property shouts something at the trespassing male, the trespassing male then “interprets” and relays to the guard (on his left and not close enough to the window to hear the owner) what the other male had supposedly said.

The property owner loudly informs the other male that a helicopter will be coming with people to arrest him. He will also be fined a large sum of money; at least a thousand dollars. He gives a number of minor details. This results in the guard being told (by the trespassing male) that a helicopter will be coming to take the trespasser to his home and that someone will bring money to give him (rather than him being fined). Everything the property owner shouts is changed by the other male to become a beneficial event for him. The guard does not realize this at all and writes down the instructions on a notepad. Even though the situation is hilarious, I am only mildly amused.

I turn around to see an amazingly beautiful beach and nighttime scene. I walk towards it, thinking that I might take a helicopter from an island not that far from shore (which I may be able to walk to because of sandbars). I notice an orange beacon in the center of the island. There also appears to be a park shelter or some sort of small utility building on each corner of the island.

Still, once I am on the beach itself, my perception and clarity becomes extreme. The scene is so beautiful and blissful, I become distracted and forget that I had been thinking about getting on a helicopter or going to the small island.

I notice two sandbars just off the beach. I go to the closest one and roll around and slide with the incoming waves in the wonderful cool water and white sand. Two other people, an unknown male and female, are also enjoying themselves. I first think that they may be playing with some sort of sea creature such as a dolphin or octopus, but this is not the case. As I walk past them, I am somewhat annoyed. I would like to enjoy the beach more without strangers around.

I see a large park shelter. There are three pairs of picnic tables, each pair touching end to end and the ends perpendicular to the front opening of the shelter. Two couples sit at opposite sides of the building. I walk in from the right side, having enjoyed being barefoot in the cool water and sand, but I soon notice a lot of crumpled empty packages from vending machine products and other rubbish strewn on the floor. There is a puddle and it looks like someone had even peed near one wall.

I decide not to go fully into the park shelter and absentmindedly say aloud, “this is a real pee place”. The other male in the water looks up and asks me what I said. “It’s a pist-place!” I say.

“You can’t expect people not to take their stuff out to enjoy nature,” says the male (which also seems to mean that he thinks it is okay to throw trash everywhere as well as put various recreational junk on an otherwise isolated pristine beach). As he says this, I notice an equidistant series of small yellow cube-shaped plastic boxes across the front of the park shelter (which I am certain were not there moments earlier), each overflowing with various items. Some of the items are for sports and recreation on the beach.

“I prefer water, sand, and rocks to this junk,” I say. I start to become really annoyed and kick an oversized green Monopoly house (about the size of a football) from the top of the contents of one of the boxes as it flies at the other male, almost hitting his head. I kick a couple of the small storage boxes, also missing him. I then decide to kick him directly in the head with my right foot.

Just as I somehow lift my foot high enough to kick his head, I wake up with my right leg thrashing out like a real kick (while on my left side). (Thankfully, I did not kick anyone or anything in reality.)

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• A beach in a dream is liminal space autosymbolism, a typically heightened stage between sleeping and waking, similar to bridges, parking lots, and porches, all of which represent a liminal link between the dream self and conscious self identity during the dreaming and waking process. I usually become much more aware in liminal space (especially as it links directly to the waking transition and emergent consciousness factor). In this case, I was only one step down from ordinary lucidity and at the highest level of (non-lucid) liminal dream state awareness, with full-body awareness.
• The first situation in my dream is some sort of comedic transmuted “return flight” precursor where another male takes on my dream self’s role. (I never actually see a helicopter and my dream is altered into a sustained increased awareness rather than ending here as it should which is likely why the waking prompt was more extreme than usual.) From here, I deliberately sustain my dream without lucidity and even the personified preconscious element shifts to another scene (not that common). Water and its dynamics symbolizes sleep in real time, which is how I am able to additionally sustain my dream by focusing on the beauty of the beach and ocean (known as reinduction). The fact it is nighttime is a circadian rhythms factor of the deeper unconscious (which delays the emergent consciousness factor).
• A waking prompt is a biological necessity, typically brought on by the dream self or something else falling, flying, collapsing, rising, and so on. In this case, my hypnic jerk actually seemed changed into a semi-conscious act, as if I knew I had to do this to fully wake (and as usual, the personified preconscious was the focus of instigation).

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Morning of January 31, 2017. Tuesday.



I am comfortably seated at what seems to be the counter of a dimly lit bar. There is not much setting detail and I am not aware of any other people but the bartender. I am mostly only aware of the view in front of me and somewhat to the right. The bartender is unfamiliar. He is a male of casual dress in perhaps his late forties and remains standing behind the counter at all times.

I have coins and tokens in each hand, probably only a few in my left hand; at least a dozen or more in my right hand. I eventually look at them and see that most of the coins and tokens are different. The coins are all possibly from other countries. I am aware that they are probably not worth much, but I enjoy collecting them. One of the tokens, with a solid form, appears to be for a national park. It has a design on it that shows shrubbery and a forest area with a lake in the background.

It seems that I can attain more coins and tokens by gambling. (I seem to “remember” this without any other details.) I hand the bartender two similar coins. I am not sure if he is going to use one at a time, or both at the same time. He seems to hesitate near some sort of small device on the wall. It is almost as if I am exercising some sort of subtle mental will regarding his decision. He eventually places two coins in the device. Several coins and tokens flow out at the bottom as if automatically (with no other action; for example, no slots or seeming gambling feature or functions as such). He hands them to me without emotion or comment. I am glad to have a few more coins and tokens, some of which are different than the others I have, even though I again reflect that they are not that valuable other than as a collectible interest.

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Morning of January 30, 2017. Monday.



All the members of the Waltons family each have singular kiosks set up along the roadside in a straight line, adjacent to an old warehouse. It is a back road in an unknown region (but is probably meant to be Walton’s mountain). Each of the Waltons is selling something different. Mother Walton is selling handmade potholders and oven mitts. Grandma Walton is selling preserves in jars. (She is at the last kiosk on the left.) John Boy Walton is apparently attempting to sell the books of his he once had printed from a subsidy publisher he was victimized by. I am not sure what the others are selling (though Jim Bob is seemingly with slingshots).

It is nighttime eventually, and rather dark out. No one else but me (other than the Waltons) had been in the area. A very small meteor comes down and hits mother Walton’s kiosk but does not seem to do much damage. Another one just misses Grandma Walton’s stand.

I tell them that the meteors are coming down in a particular pattern. They do not at all seem to be concerned about the falling meteors even with the two close calls. I predict where the next one will hit and I am correct. I go and put the contents of the small meteorite in a large transparent glass container.

Looking closely into the container, holding it up, I see a few bits of rock. I also see a curious orange glow on the right side of the container. Near the center of the container is an odd structure that looks cylindrical and constructed of green glowing glass shards that are long and thin but also resemble a burning cigarette (other than the embers being green).

After a short time, there are two oversized beetles in the container, bigger than my hands. One is a golden Christmas beetle, the other resembling a green weevil mixed with a rhino beetle. I am thinking of how they came from another planet and somehow survived within the meteor (even though they seemed to rapidly grow from out of the embers), though I consider how there is only one of each (though each is beautiful in its own way). I am also thinking that they are too different to reproduce since they are seemingly different species. No sooner do I hold that thought for a moment when they start to mate. The shiny green beetle climbs atop the golden one and they remain mating until my dream ends.

The Waltons, especially Grandma and John Boy (who are standing the closest to me) stare at the event, not speaking.

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Morning of January 23, 2017. Monday.



I become aware of activities I must do for a movie being made that is about a wealthy German family (in Germany and on Germany’s side when the war starts) during World War II (about as far from my real-life associations as possible). I am a boy actor, probably around ten years of age.

One part of the set is reminiscent of the Loomis Street house, another somewhat suggestive of the southwest Cubitis bedroom. Still another part (in the last segment) seems somewhat like the kitchen of our present home. I have no coherent familiarity with my real-life status other than during the last part of the waking events.

There is a scene where I have to walk from one area in the house, go outside, and then go back into the house into a different room and look in a mirror (though the mirror curiously seems to be on an outside wall of the house that faces the backyard). I am aware that I only have a white shirt on. This does not bother me at all because I assume that all the scenes presently being filmed are from the waist up. I am satisfied with my appearance at this point.

At another point, I absentmindedly enter the room that is somewhat like the southwest Cubitis bedroom. An unknown female is there and sitting on the side of a bed, apparently on a cigarette break. On the left side of her face are parallel indentations, almost like the map of where a few stream beds converge (my actual thought within my dream in this scene). She wants to be alone at this time.

There is a scene where a fictional relative is going into the military at the start of the war. I am standing outside (seemingly at the south side of the Loomis Street house) between at least two adults (and clearly aware of my smaller, shorter body and status as a child actor), an unfamiliar female on my right and at least one unfamiliar male on my left. The camera is on us (filming from east of us). I feel “perfect” as I turn my head slowly to the right, to briefly acknowledge a crow in the sky behind me (which is flying north), making sure part of my left profile is filmed (for at least a second or two) and that the angle of my face at each point is “perfect”. I focus with clear intent to keep my stoic expression “perfect”.

Eventually, my dream starts to lose cohesion and I am slowly more aware of at least some of my real-life history. Still, I am writing a letter to inform my sister Marilyn (deceased) that I am going to be in a Hollywood movie, indicating some of the details.

In the last segment, I look in a mirror again. My face is becoming more and more unusual, almost like the classic Frankenstein monster. I have patches of green skin on the left side of my face. It is very wrinkled in that one area, though the wrinkles are in long straight vertical lines. There are what appear to be stone-like features peaking out from parts of my forehead and cheeks. The “stones” are of various colors and textures but are likely meant to be some sort of oversized acne.

Eventually, I realize my left eye is bulging and I touch it to see that it is like a small plastic dome that is slightly cracked more to the left. (Oddly, I can still see clearly from it within my dream even though it is almost sealed shut.) This is because a crack in my left cheek had reached its perimeter.

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Losing teeth dreams have nothing on this level of dream-self cessation (which otherwise usually have no “interpretation”).

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Morning of January 23, 2017. Monday.



I am wandering around near an area near the shopping mall. There are a number of people who are involved in some sort of publicity relating to Godzilla and a particular store (or perhaps the entire mall). I walk through the hall of the shopping mall at one point and I am annoyed by seeing three people approaching me who are all in unusual oversized Godzilla costumes (though a few other people are in human-sized Godzilla costumes), though not really looking like any typical movie version of Godzilla. They are about twice as tall as me so I assume that they are wearing stilts and have features within their costumes for more control of the larger arms and such. They do not really regard me directly though I know they are there to annoy people with some sort of promotional gimmick.

One Godzilla costume is meant to convey the idea of rocky skin (somewhat like the Thing from “Fantastic Four”). Another is a purplish color with polka dots. One has mixed elements of lion and clown, with a sort of mane that seems akin to a wide clown outfit collar. I have an uncomfortable feeling that it will be difficult to shop anywhere in the region with all these annoying promoters.

There is one scene where I see someone (unknown) watching a Godzilla movie on a narrow wall between two hallways, but the man playing Godzilla is somehow directly talking to the viewer. I get the impression he can even stick his head out of the implied screen unless some sort of holographic technology is involved. (In this case, the Godzilla head is about the size of a human head, unlike the large costumes.) I wonder if the viewer is going to allow himself to be attacked or “eaten” for entertainment purposes.

I later find myself in a beautiful area near a marsh, eventually within a forest with dense shrubbery. I begin to relax and explore. However, one of the people who are wearing Godzilla costumes comes to where I am, though does not find me. He looks near a large shrub but cannot see me. This time, the costume seems about three times bigger than me but the size does not bother me (and does not even seem a factor).

Finally, I focus on the nature of gravity. Water seems to run uphill. This is very puzzling. Josh Holloway (the actor from “Lost”) is present. Some small rivulets of water that flow upwards on the wall form a tree-like pattern. I see something very unusual and point to it. At first, I think it might be more water moving upwards along a wall but it turns out to be the glow of the plastic wrap over a new toy cap gun still on the card and somehow stuck on the wall.

Josh is also apparently annoyed by all the people in weird Godzilla costumes. Several more (unknown) people appear and we explore a large public bathroom (which may be abandoned). I look at the sink and notice water flowing upwards in the side of the basin. Later, we manage to evade a person in a Godzilla costume as he only looks around in the first section of the bathroom.

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Morning of January 20, 2017. Friday.



I am in kind of a groggy state within the dream state though I am clearly aware that I am in our bed, though my head is in the opposite direction as to how we sleep in reality. I am on my left side facing south. Near my head is what I perceive to be some sort of writings relating possibly to educational tasks and scholastic writing.

Near the center of our bed, where I see our mattress has no sheet over it, are a couple toy earth movers. It seems they may actually be down in the mattress a little bit (possibly due to a tear in the mattress material) but the toys do not move on their own at any point. I do not move much and I am aware that Zsuzsanna is standing near our bed.

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Astoundingly, this very basic dream sign inclusive of a dreaming metaphor (directly and redundantly symbolic of exploring the unconscious or sorting through memories while asleep) has never happened in this particular way to my knowledge. The journal and writing is probably more so related to my dream journal.

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Morning of January 17, 2017. Tuesday.



In my goal to strengthen my online journal against the fallacy of “dream interpretation”, I have, to the best of my ability, clarified this entry and recompiled the underlying meaning and root influences.

I am alone in an unfamiliar car in late morning, though which is implied to be my dream self’s car. I am parked near the center of the parking lot of Skogen’s IGA in La Crosse, logically facing south towards the store’s entrance. Although I am in America, the driver’s side is on the right. There are several other parked cars around, all with people in them. (Both the driver’s side being on the wrong side and all the cars in the parking lot illogically having people in them are dream-state indicators. Erroneous dream-state indicators of this type are so common, it seems to be a natural dividing mechanism to separate dream-state memory from real-life memory).

After a few minutes of looking around as I am seated behind the steering wheel (with no backstory as to whether there was intent to go into the store or to leave and drive elsewhere), an unknown male erratically drives a car around in the parking lot. There is machine gun fire from the car and someone (in the car) is hollering about a race. In the car are two males who are dressed as 1920s gangsters. It seems that everyone is being challenged to get away and to apparently hide somewhere. I am not sure if there is a literal finish line.

I decide to drive away as quickly as possible. I go down an alley which is seemingly the one behind the Loomis Street house. I drive into a large garage and get out of the car though sit near it in the semidarkness. It seems I may be safe here.

After a time, there is activity just outside in the alley. The gangsters are looking for the people who had driven away from the parking lot. I hear objects falling over just outside the garage but I remain still. I do not think they will find me.

Eventually, I look up and see a large circular hole in the ceiling of the garage and a giant human eye, atypically rendered in black and white, peers down through the hole. The eye and its movement has somewhat of a slight blurry effect as if a giant television was just above the hole in the ceiling, facing downwards. There are even a couple lines of “static” as the eye moves side to side as if in REM sleep, though it remains open, unblinking. I am not sure if I will be seen but I do not feel afraid. This surreal situation does not trigger any sense of it being impossible.

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Step-by-step explanation for the inexperienced:

In my dreams, sitting in a car in a parking lot (or simply being in a parking lot) is a biological indicator of being in bed and typically represents the last stage of a sleep cycle, the subliminal “waiting period” for the increase in beta neural activity (13–30 Hz). This has been validated from the study of hundreds of parallel examples since early childhood. There is no reason to assume that the parking lot is “symbolic” of anything in real life, which does not even make any sense other than perhaps to people falling prey to the Barnum effect of “dream interpretation”.

My dream self typically runs away simply out of the lack of enthusiasm over waking up (more obvious in this case as I subliminally knew what being in the parking lot meant even though my dream self did not), though which is random and completely unrelated to how I view sleep or waking in general (and after all, every day is different). My dream self typically runs away from the more dominant preconscious (until the emergent consciousness is linked and activated), which most often has absolutely nothing in common with me or of any relevance to my waking life. It is not known whether the noise outside the garage, another form of liminal space, was based on real environmental noise, but it seems likely, especially as the REM symbolism was activated right afterwards.

The very last scene, an intriguing indicator of being in REM sleep, was directly influenced by the “Don’t Open Till Doomsday” episode of “The Outer Limits” television series, which I had not seen in years and first watched as a child while I drifted in and out of sleep and lucid and semi-lucid dream states. (This was a major influence that heightened my interest in various levels of consciousness.) The episode, on one level, is a perfect metaphor for the conscious self subliminally “watching” the fictional dream self. In fact, my dream even included the black-and-white television imagery from the original show, even including the static.

Finally, there is another layer of meaning. In this case, it is almost like an analogy to my life. In order to viably clarify it, I must quote part of an original summary of the episode: “In 1929, a pair of young newlyweds receives a mysterious box-like object wrapped as a wedding gift with a cryptic label reading ‘Don’t Open Till Doomsday’. Unbeknownst to his bride, the bridegroom is zapped by a beam of light emanating from this object when he removed it from the wrapping, and seemingly disappears out of existence. In 1964, an eloping couple arrives at the house in the hopes of using it as a honeymoon spot, now a half-derelict mansion owned by Mrs. Kry, an eccentric old woman who turns out to be the aforesaid bride, driven to insanity after her husband disappeared. After the younger bride herself disappears inside the box, it is revealed that Mrs. Kry has been luring young couples to her house, in the hope of 'trading’ them for her lost bridegroom, with an alien intelligence residing inside the box.”

How does this relate to me and my life? The box represents the fictional and contained form of a dream limited by a total lack of understanding of dreams (that nearly all “interpreters” exhibit), or believing that a dream relates only to current real-life status. This is like an alternate timeline (in metaphor) of what could have happened if I (or Zsuzsanna) had believed in “interpretation” (“receiving the box”) when I was growing up. That is, I would not have ultimately learned that the “mystery girl” of my dreams, rather than being “symbolic” or of solely being another aspect of myself, was actually literally precognitive of my eventual joining with my “mystery girl” Zsuzsanna. This is pure truth.

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Curious marker: This dream was on the morning of January 17, 2017. The episode of “The Outer Limits” that influenced it was from season 1, episode 17.

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Morning of January 14, 2017. Saturday.



I am in La Crosse and in the house next door to the King Street boarding house. There is some sort of party going on, possibly a high school graduation party, and it is at night. Zsuzsanna is there but as a teenager though is the only person I recognize. See seems a bit tired and I ask her if she wants to sleep in my bed (which turns out to be at an unknown residence but implied to be where I live). It feels as if we have not been together as a married couple yet, though she is passive towards me.

We walk northwest from the house until we come to my fictional red 1922 Phaeton (a “dream car” that has not featured in my dreams for quite some time) in a commercial district. Its appearance is different as if perhaps an older model and its top is down. Curiously, there does not seem to be a steering wheel, though this does not serve to be a deterrent. I tell her to get in the car and I sit in the area behind where the steering wheel should be. As is often the case, I have difficulty in trying to fit in the vehicle. Still, after some adjustments (where the car even seems to expand slightly), it works out okay.

We end up in an unfamiliar bedroom. A playful lion cub is present and so is a puppy (though the puppy of which I do not see much and which does not go onto the bed as the lion cub does). The lion cub makes small messes over the entire bed (to a very unrealistic extent) and I tell Zsuzsanna that I have to take the top blanket off and I am somewhat annoyed. It does not seem unusual to have either a puppy or a lion cub in my (fictional) house.

• The appearance of the red 1922 Phaeton goes all the way back to early childhood, when I dreamt my father was a car.
• I have not been on King Street since January 1994. I did not know any people who lived in the house next to the boarding house though I did paint some of the inside for the owner.
• The lion is a recurring waking prompt and coalescence symbol (as it can swallow the dreamer back into whole consciousness) and is also a type of dream sign (as from the 1897 “Sleeping Gypsy” painting by Henri Rousseau). Here however, it is only a cub, but the obvious dream sign of the bed already serves as a waking transition factor. This specific rendering is a connection with having to wake up to use the bathroom.
• The missing steering wheel is an invitation to lucidity (and implies liminal dream state awareness), whereby the car is my dream “vehicle” as an extension of my physical body (which is also called a “vehicle”) in sleep but without an active conscious self awareness as in normal lucid dreams to “steer” my dream with a more viable conscious choice (though liminal dream control occurs with me very often - I am just not aware I am dreaming). I am still able to resolve the beginning intent to a point. A car with no steering wheel also correlates with vestibular system dynamics and the liminal awareness of the inability to control the physical body while sleeping.
• Even though bed dream signs are quite common in my dreams (and always have been since early childhood), I rarely pick up on them directly for active lucidity, though a bed implies the waking space of a dream (liminal awareness of being asleep).

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Morning of January 11, 2017. Wednesday.



I find myself with my wife Zsuzsanna. We are sitting on a small beach-like area and are outside enjoying the nighttime scenery. However, to our left is an unknown male and female in their bed in some sort of distorted and bilocated corner of a bedroom (though every other dream aspect implies we are outside). Even though they are in bed, they are also working as tourist guides (and seemingly are a married couple in their late twenties).

Looking out over the ocean, I see a small island. This small island is supposedly a part of Germany. I see the Reichstag building, which directly faces us. Oddly, right behind this, is Big Ben, though only about a third as tall as it should be. I am clearly aware that this is an amazing sight that can only be appreciated from our present location. We somehow see a feature of Germany, and right behind it, a feature of the UK (which is of course ridiculous, but I am only vaguely puzzled by the sight). We continue to appreciate this beautiful scene. I sit on Zsuzsanna’s left, holding her hand. The imagery is very vivid and I watch the motions of the ocean’s surface. Other than the tourist guides in their bed, who gave us a brochure in the first segment, we are the only people present. The moonlight on the water is beautiful.

I consider that I am not fully certain of where we are. Again, I know that the little island is a part of Germany though we ourselves are apparently nowhere near Germany (even though we could probably swim to the islands from where we are sitting). Just beyond that is the UK which is also a tiny island with Big Ben being the only discernible UK feature at this distance. I reason that we are probably either in Hawaii or California though this is not certain.

I start to realize that we have traveled from the future into this past, which is 1969. In fact, it must be July 24, 1969 due to what happens next (at least in part). The tourist guides do not seem to be all that alarmed by this fact and simply hand us another brochure. There is a short conversation about the differences between certain landmarks in 1969 and 2016 (and thus my dream self is not aware it is 2017).

A helicopter flies overhead in the night sky in the opposite direction from where the bilocated bed is. From this helicopter falls the Apollo 11 spacecraft, its parachutes immediately opening, the craft seeming a bit larger than it should be. I expect that it will probably explode and it does. It explodes into a massive fireworks display, debris flying everywhere over a dense forest. (This makes no sense of course, as the spacecraft actually came through Earth’s atmosphere, not dropped from a helicopter.)

From the debris of Apollo 11 in the dense isolated forest beyond (to our right) comes two white robotic Etch-a-Sktech-like devices. They somehow end up being near Zsuzsanna and I even though they have no visible legs of any kind yet came a fair distance. The ocean water level goes down by a fair amount. I am wary of one of the devices even though they are nearly identical. Even though I know that one is ours, I reason that the other belongs to the tourist guides and may have some sort of security function that does not want people from the future in the vicinity. However, I then begin to realize that 1969 probably does not have the technology to detect people from the future even though our device is detecting these people from the past and recognizing the setting as 1969. The original scene over the ocean becomes some sort of large computer screen featuring some sort of spreadsheet imagery. The setting seems to have more of an indoor feel at this point.

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• The common dream state indicator of the bilocated bed, especially the tourist guide couple, are an obvious play on “traveling while asleep”, a direct reference to dreaming. The other married couple are a projection of Zsuzsanna and I being asleep and dreaming at the time.
• The clock tower (Big Ben, which refers to the bell, which symbolizes the wake-up call) is a more dominant circadian rhythms feature, “overseeing the water” (sleep cycle: During sleep, the flow of cerebrospinal fluid in the brain increases dramatically, washing away harmful waste proteins that build up between brain cells during waking hours). A tower also symbolizes emergent consciousness (the conscious self identity being above the fictional dream setting).
• The ocean waters lower (sleeping and the dream state ebbs since water represents the dynamics of sleep in real time), the setting slowly transforming from outdoors to indoors; a typical waking transition.
• The return flight feature explodes in this case by my (non-lucid) expectation, though this implies a thread of instinctual dream control.
• The preconscious is here a threatening white robotic Etch-a-Sketch that apparently can teleport, which is about as weird as it gets. Even so, it (and the spreadsheet) is a reminder of conscious self identity, as only the conscious self with its critical thinking skills can create and utilize viable technology and perceive written communication for a sustained time period.
• The Apollo 11 parachutes are a type of dream sign and are analogous to pillowcases, as I sometimes am irritated with trying to fit a pillowcase back on a pillow prior to sleeping or sometimes wake up with the pillowcase off.

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Morning of January 10, 2017. Tuesday.



After exploring an unknown but interesting region in an unfamiliar rural area, I eventually start thinking about fishing. It seems to be late afternoon. I find an area where several others are fishing, mostly males in their thirties. There is a building on one longer side of a pond with a pathway just wide enough to walk on. The rectangular pond is about three-fourths a city block in length though only about half that length at the ends.

When I decide to fish, I see that there are too many bobbers on the water’s surface near the side I first go to. As I walk along the pond’s length near the building, I see bobber after bobber on the surface (as well as the trailing fishing line) and a number of fishing poles along the bank that extend over the entire length of the pond on that side, the setups of which apparently belong to the group of three men who are sitting at the end of the pond. This annoys me but I do not become very angry.

I walk back to where the other three males are (even though it would have made more sense to keep going around the corner to the other longer side of the pond to search for a space to fish). After a short time, that longer side of the pond I had just walked back along seems clear (though there is neither a memory nor enough time implied to have passed for the men to have actually reeled it all in or to have gathered up their equipment). There are only a couple areas where bobbers and line are still visible on that side. For a short time, I walk in midair above the water (not on the water as in certain past dreams) to get past a corner. I do this without thinking it to be unusual.

I sit down to fish. I have a soft plastic jig body (shad-style soft plastic lure) and slide it onto a hook. An unknown male to my right tells me that I am not doing it by the proper standards. I take it off and slowly put it back onto the hook and he seems satisfied. “You know the fish in here aren’t that big?” he asks me. I nod, regardless of not knowing anything about the area. Still, when I look into the water, I can clearly see under the surface. There are several very large walleye and carp. I intend on catching a walleye.

After I cast my line, I see that I am almost immediately snagged on something. It looks like a large Ragdoll cat swimming under the water. I try to get the hook disentangled from its fur, which is along the side of its body near the middle. An unfamiliar boy of about ten wades out and is eventually able to take the hook out. I am not sure if the cat belongs to him or if he is there to perform a service (as an actual parks and recreation employee). The cat remains swimming in the water. I notice the boy seems to be dressed as a boy scout or parks employee, so may actually work here.

I ask the male who is still to my right about the “other area to fish” with the pretense of me being familiar with the area. I hint at it being a place beginning with “m” and pretending not to remember the full name. He asks me if I mean K-Mart, and I tentatively nod. I then ask him if it is legal to fish there presently. It seems it is.

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• Fishing, a common dream event for me since early childhood, represents the subliminal desire of the limited dream self to bring the emergent consciousness to the surface in order to wake or at least increase awareness. Water symbolizes sleep and a fish on the line is the downgraded conscious self identity developing coherence (often increasing in size and strength) when being caught.
• This is more specifically confirmed as a self-initiated waking precursor due to the behavior of the personified preconscious. Typically, the preconscious is only hostile when the personified subconscious (dream self) does not want to wake or (metaphorically) initiate waking. As fishing is an act of deliberately seeking the emergent consciousness, the preconscious is passive here. He even helps me continue my task without aggressiveness or treating me strangely.
• This is more specifically confirmed as a self-initiated waking precursor due to the behavior of the personified preconscious. Typically, the preconscious is only hostile when the personified subconscious (dream self) does not want to wake or (metaphorically) initiate waking. As fishing is an act of deliberately seeking the emergent consciousness, the preconscious is passive here. He even helps me continue my task without aggressiveness or treating me strangely.
• The personified preconscious rarely appears in fishing dreams (again, due to what fishing metaphorically represents in real time). He only appears here due to the delay in the waking transition, which was caused by my own hesitancy and non-lucid dream control in creating the additional bobbers and too many random additional "lines of communication".
• The cat in the water is a factor of the circadian rhythms of nighttime (and the dream state during a particular sleep cycle) and has also appeared as the final waking prompt in past dreams though is underwater here based on the time of my dream (after sunrise). Catching the cat would be akin to enhancing the essence of night (or night-based thoughts), in contrast to the “correct” waking goal.
• The reference to K-Mart is a mixed waking prompt and dream sign, since I associate K-Mart with clothes and getting up and getting dressed.

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Morning of January 5, 2017. Thursday.



My wife and family and I are living back on Gellibrand Street in Clayfield. When the mail goes, there are several items. I firstly focus on a large package.

The package turns out to contain a book we did not order or expect to get, possibly because of being members of a book-of-the-month club. It is a very large and thick book with shiny gilded pages with the title of “Return of the Fairy Tale”. It seemingly includes fairy tales as well as poems and folk tales. I read one poem as our youngest daughter listens (though I cannot recall its content). I am not sure if we should keep the book as I seem to remember that Zsuzsanna has an older edition of the same book. We look for it and it is found near the bottom of her wardrobe. I ask her if we should keep the new edition we just received and it seems that we will. The older edition has a slightly different cover but is about the same size.

After this, I go onto our porch to look at our other mail. There are two postcards from Margaret. In one, she starts off by talking about seeing her “pale face” looking back at her (from a mirror I assume). She writes that she is sorry to hear about my sister (Marilyn).

Apparently, I had also written to a man in India of whom I had not written to in over twenty years. I had asked him about his address (which makes no sense because if I did not know his address he likely would not have gotten my letter). On his postcard, in somewhat sloppy handwriting, he only writes:

“I do not remember my other address. I would like a comfy.”

I am not sure what he means by “comfy”; if he means a footrest or some sort of apparel. (In real life years ago he had asked me to send him auto repair books and I did not have any.)

I also notice a couple loose letters which are older love letters from Zsuzsanna though I am puzzled as to why they are with the recent mail. One letter includes a couple drawings. I had been sitting on the left end of the couch on the porch (liminal space) during this last segment.

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• The fifteen rupee tiger stamp is a sublimated coalescence prompt (as a tiger can swallow the dream self back into full consciousness) and additionally, mail usually symbolizes communication between the dream self and either the conscious self identity or the collective unconscious. Even so, and even containing the same dreaming and waking metaphors (and overall meaning) since earliest childhood, this dream’s rendering is unique.
• Regardless of the nature of the book, a book usually links to conscious self identity (and critical thinking skills that are not wholly feasible in non-lucid dreams). Gilded pages relate to dawning awareness and sentience (as sunbeams coming in through a bedroom window).
• The other book being in the wardrobe is a dream sign, as Zsuzsanna gets clothes from her wardrobe shortly after waking.
• Most dreams, when waking prompts are not more direct or jolting, are to subliminally inform the dreamer to wake as in this case. This same “call to waking” (waking transition with waking metaphors) can be seen in tens of thousands of my dreams documented and studied over fifty years, and in very specific layered (redundant) ways (and often “no-brainers” that I easily grasped as a child).
• Even “comfy” can be considered a dream sign, as it can refer to pillows and being in bed.
• Even the line about not remembering the other address is a direct reference to the amnesic nature of the personified subconscious (dream self).

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Afternoon of December 25, 2016. Sunday. (Last clarified and resupplemented on Sunday, 10 September 2017.)



In my dream, as I am lying in our bed as it is located and oriented now in our present home on W Street, and possibly in late morning, there are concerns expressed by others (seemingly unfamiliar people) of whom I am unsure are present in our bedroom or speaking via telepathy from another location (though I do not perceive them as imposers). I falsely remember that we have a pet donkey that lives inside our mattress. I am unsure if he has eaten recently, perhaps not for weeks. The area he is within is possibly locked, and I hear someone asking if the lock is locked. I do not think the donkey is ill, though I am unsure. I get the impression of a cage being inside our mattress (almost as big as our mattress), and within that cage, the supposedly full-sized donkey. Regardless of how absurd and impossible this situation is, it seems logical and serious to my dream self. (This is vaguely similar to my recurring forgotten pet dreams, where I become aware of a pet in my bedroom, usually on the opposite side from the foot of my bed, that I may not have fed in weeks or longer, yet perceiving it may still be alive. The pet is often a guinea pig or rabbit in a cardboard box that is open at the top.)

In an unrelated scene in a more vivid but less detailed setting, an unknown female approaches me in a white martial arts outfit. She kicks me in my stomach (without any discernible motive other than practicing her martial arts) as I am standing (facing south), seemingly in the room where my computer desk is, and I simultaneously wake with the stomach jolt (which mostly only happens when I am sleeping on my side and is not as intense as my hypnopompic back spasm which can happen in any position). It does not hurt and is not even unpleasant, just a spontaneous movement of the abdominal muscles upon waking.

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The meaning of this dream is very obvious to me. It is completely unrelated to waking life regarding any symbolic significance, being primarily rendered around the waking transition as many dreams are. It is yet another incidental rendering of subliminally anticipating the hypnopompic kick though it was a lesser abdominal jolt in this case. Both the donkey and the female practicing martial arts (of whom probably represents Zsuzsanna being in bed with me, though she really does not kick me with a hypnopompic kick when we are sleeping) represent the same potential waking prompt. Incidental associations relate to our son doing martial arts in real life and possibly the “Little Donkey” Christmas carol (though my dream self does not typically have a viable memory of what year it is let alone the date of December 25th in this case).

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Morning of December 23, 2016. Friday.



I seem to be on Loomis Street, with my sister Marilyn still being alive though appearing as she was in the 1960s. However, her house’s layout is more like the Barolin Street house (in Australia), though the (Barolin Street) lounge room is a bedroom in my dream. In the last segment, the veranda implied to be at the front of her house is not familiar other than vaguely like the front porch of our present home.

There is a focus on beds (most obvious dream sign ever) and Marilyn is talking about a special purchase she made in buying beds at a local secondhand store. Her husband is also present but mostly remains in another room. Marilyn seems very happy and seems to think the beds are like a treasure or very valuable antiques.

I lie down to go to sleep on my “new” bed, but I am somewhat confused by its nature. It is actually only a set of elevated golden bed springs. Still, I am not nearly as uncomfortable in my dream as I would be in real life would this be the case. There is a period where I actually seem to be “asleep”, though there is still a level of awareness of my dream’s environment. I do find it somewhat odd that the beds are not complete but I consider that the rest may be delivered later.

At another point, I am looking out from the high (fictional) veranda, though it is more like an outer mezzanine combined with the porch of our present home. I also look through a west window and there is some confusion regarding the neighbors (unknown man, woman, and at least one child) looking out through their window at the same time and seeming annoyed that I am looking out the window (though I have no interest in what they might be doing). They close the curtains of their window.

There is soon an unknown male present (whom I have no association of being imposing in any way) who had found the neighbors’ act of closing their curtains as an amusing event. From the veranda, I watch a number of butterflies moving around, mostly downward. They (or at least some of them) seem oddly squarish (almost reminiscent of a postage stamp, as the wings of at least a couple of them seem perforated like a postage stamp) and almost as if they are made of orange paper. I get the impression that they may not even be alive, but there is ambiguity. Some of them must be alive or they would not be able to fly around. I watch one moving downwards, soon landing on an unrealistically located top of an implied apartment building roof (which would be an impossible perspective based on where I am) and consider that it had not been alive.

The unknown male seems to think they are all alive. I mention to him how they do not seem to be fluttering or moving their wings at all for the most part.

“They are oracular butterflies,” he says, which supposedly explains why they are not moving their wings even though some are flying back upwards at times. I do not understand the correct meaning of the word “oracular” and confuse it with it meaning something that is circular (even though the butterflies are squarish) though I also consider it might be the name of a species. I feel very peaceful and, although I find the scene puzzling, feel quite comfortable and continue to watch more and more of them move about above the street.

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• Most of the butterflies were pale orange although a few were white or cream-colored. Orange establishes medium waking priority (biologically) and is analogous to sunrise associations (the patterns of emergent daylight being linked to bands of emergent consciousness).
• Butterflies are a first-level flight symbol, which makes up at least twenty percent of all dreams I have had in the fifty years I have closely studied them. Return flight factors (including falling or rising), analogous to the consciousness shift of the waking experience, are often within or near liminal space (as here, rendered as the veranda).
• The personified preconscious most often is the most present in liminal space (as well as almost always being the last and most dominant character), which is here, the usual porch-like middle point between sleeping and waking. He tells me that the butterflies are “oracular” which is associated with dreams being potentially precognitive though was not confrontational here as is often the case.
• The butterflies being somewhat reminiscent of postage stamps relates to the communication between synthetic temporary dream self identity and emergent conscious self identity.

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Morning of December 20, 2016. Tuesday.



I am at our present address on W Street near the west side of our house on the public footpath. It seems to be morning. There had been signs of a light rain. I notice that the Wicked Witch of the East must have been in a storm (though not in our area, at least with any perceived backstory) and blown our way in that the NBN cabinet near our house had fallen upon her (which is not logical, as the NBN cabinet is set upon concrete and shows no signs of having been removed or damaged). I know this is true because her ruby slippers have been sticking out from under the cabinet for probably a day or two. They stick out from the right side of the NBN cabinet.

It may be important to inform people of this. I look more closely and bravely feel the supposed ruby slippers, which are actually more like red fishing boots. They are of a floppy rubbery material. Perhaps the remains are not actually present.

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This dream presents failed flight waking symbolism, one of my most common forms of waking symbolism since early childhood, which is unrelated to waking life, and as such, does not imply any negative connotations. It establishes a form of “return flight” as related to the hypnopompic stage (which is rendered as such in over twenty percent of my dreams or 1 in 5 in tens of thousands), which sometimes induces a falling sensation (which is biological and unrelated to waking life). It is unreasonable to assume real life associations with such precursory symbolism relative to hypnopompia.

In this case, the position of the implied body (though the body itself is not seen or touched) is in a sleeping position, a real-time dream state indicator. Once again, the waking symbolism is oriented on the right.

The detail of the red fishing boots establishes three well-known dream state indicators simultaneously, red as a known presence of waking priority (especially in dreams which become completely red, which means I have been sleeping too long), boots that are not being worn (as one does not wear shoes when in bed), and residual water induction remnant (in being fishing boots or waders).

Additionally, there is the implication of the NBN cabinet representing technology, communication, and intelligence as symbolizing the conscious self over the fictional dream self or the remnants of the ephemeral dream self at the waking point.

Additionally, it is unreasonable in this case to assume the “witch” is related to waking life by specifics, for three main reasons. One, the “witch” herself does not even appear in this dream. Two, the “witch” is a fictional character from the “Wizard of Oz”, and my association validates this entire dream as primarily a real-time dream state indicator. Remember that “The Wizard of Oz” is about someone being knocked unconscious and having a dream. Three, it is fantasy, and fantasy symbolism is based on creativity, not life-relevant symbolism.

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Morning of December 20, 2016. Tuesday.



Zsuzsanna and I are “sleeping” in a tent (in the same orientation as in reality; her on my left) in what is apparently an unfamiliar urban park (though with a vague association with the field that used to be across the street from our present home) early in the morning around sunrise. I become wary of the gaps at the bottoms of the sides of the tent (mostly to my right, near my head) in their offering of less privacy. It is also windy at times. In the final scene, the tent is actually hovering above the ground and directly above us, the bottoms of the sides probably about four feet above the ground. I think a few ropes are still holding it in place. My clueless non-lucid dream self is not standing at any point.

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This is typical RAS (reticular activating system) intrusive waking symbolism, though sustained and with no hypnopompic physical event.

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Key concepts: Zsuzsanna and I sleeping in correct orientation as first level dream state indicator, dream state indicator of indirect association with floating or flying as dictated by natural inner ear dynamics, outdoor area previously a field and now a parking lot in real life as liminal space transition, sustained RAS factor, no personified preconscious, no direct preconscious factor, non-lucid and sustained non-cooperative emergent consciousness, interpretable as waking symbolism only.

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