non-lucid

Morning of June 2, 2016. Thursday.



This dream, in the final segments, was the usual “coming down” waking metaphor which has occurred in the majority of my dreams (tens of thousands) and of course merely represents the biological waking mechanism.

The setting for the most part seems to be, very atypically, the lunchroom and auditorium area of my middle school as well as the north section (which has rarely featured in my dreams even when I was going to school there).

There is an unusual plot relating to finding an “ancient” technology related to space travel and a setup for launching a rocket (which actually appears of 1960s NASA design at one point though the new 2015 NASA logo appears at another point). However, it may also imply that I am in the distant future in some sort of science-fiction scenario. A group of people set up the launchpad on the stage with the “cannon” of this unusual device facing partly upwards but towards the audience area.

I feel a bit strange seeing what these (unknown) people are doing. The whole setup looks like some sort of odd composite of wrongly arranged rocket launch features, parts of a bed (obvious dream sign) and a cannon. Three unclothed males (another dream sign) are inside this large device that takes up most of the stage. The front-most setup actually looks like a male wrapped up in a blanket and a mattress around him (again, a rather amusing and “overly” obvious dream sign although I reach not an iota of lucidity). The two other males are each protruding from the side as if representing wing function.

I try to tell the authorities and spectators that this is not necessary and that the rocket will launch without risking the lives of the three men. No one really listens to me and the device is soon set off in a cannon-like event.

The rocket rises into the sky without incident, getting higher and higher, and everyone seems cheerful and amazed. I watch and it seems somewhat “realistic”. Soon though, the rocket does not have the required escape velocity - which is equivalent to the square root of 2GM divided by r, though this concept is intriguingly skewed in my dream.

Instead, in fact, the rocket crashes into the invisible seemingly solid dome-like interior of the Earth’s atmosphere, which does not seem that high (in comparison to where the first change of the layer would be). People are startled and it reminds me much of the Challenger space shuttle disaster, with trails of smoke arcing out and down.

After this, the scenario changes slightly. It almost seems as if I am now at a nude beach though where most are half-dressed (distorted dream sign), though still implied to be the same overall setting. At one point some schoolmates and I (all fully dressed) find the front of the skull of one of the would-be astronauts on the sidewalk near the north entrance. However, I then see it is a “Stars Wars” stormtrooper mask but still try to determine if it is actual human remains. I also very briefly and very vaguely get an eerie reference to Howard the Duck’s face (flight symbol) - not the utterly awful movie rendering, but the original Marvel art.

Soon, I go up to a row of three robotic but skeletal figures which are arranged on a slightly elevated platform and that apparently represent the remains of the would-be astronauts - though it may also be that they will be using these figures on another launch attempt. Looking at one figure for reference, I fit the “skull front” onto a figure that does not yet have it. The “mask” fits onto a feature where the implied eyes on the “robot” come out on stalks and it is almost like a snap-together model at this point and it easily fits on with four connections (eyes, nose, and mouth extensions on the stage feature). One boy tells me that this is not correct and I firmly tell him that it is the same as the other (which it is).

From here, I notice Zsuzsanna in the crowd, half-dressed. I decide to become intimate with her even though there is a very dense crowd at this point, and slowly wake from here.

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Although a stage represents the dream state and its nature I am inclined here to reflect that it probably also is a play on “waking stage” since this is the setting from where the “coming down” metaphor is utilized. The “unreal” nature of the “remains” is the typical preconscious transition as in countless similar dreams.

A rocket represents rising in dream state awareness, which “fails” when the waking state reaches past the halfway mark (or the event horizon of the waking threshold). I have experienced this in thousands of various (but similar) ways since earliest childhood. The first dream sign in this one was about as obvious as possible to the point of being hilarious (yet I still did not catch it within my dream), that is, being launched by a device with bed-like features including three rolled-up mattresses.

Morning of May 19, 2016. Thursday.



Just when I go on about how many different variations non-lucid dreams use to render the same basic meaning throughout a lifetime (that is, as a thought process for waking from sleep rendered in metaphor), along comes a dream with much of the same theme as one from April 6th’s “Helicopter Landing (resolved flight waking transition)”.

There had been previous focus on one of my favorite Bob Marley songs, “So Much Trouble in the World”: “Don’t leave another cornerstone, standing there behind, we’ve got to face the day, come what may”.

I am checking a cornerstone of a building to make sure it is in place. However, I soon end up atop that same building apparently “trapped” with several (unknown) others. There is the idea of gang activity below, about five or more stories down. I see a possible gang member running off to the left and around the building. Although the others seem somewhat fearful I am not at all bothered. There is talk of rescue but when seems uncertain.

After time passes, a small helicopter approaches from my left. James Bond is the pilot; that is, actor Pierce Brosnan. The only problem is that he is only about five inches high and the helicopter is way too small to even think about getting into. (My hand would barely fit into it.)

The other people do not seem to notice that the helicopter is miniature but it seems I am the first to be rescued. James Bond indicates cheerfully for me to get into the helicopter and I am not sure what to do. I cannot grab onto it to hang from it, so something else comes to mind.

I take out a small very thin pillow shaped like a human body and place it to his right, barely able to get my hands through the opening. The “pillow” is so thin that it easily bends into sitting position and for a moment is more like a thin piece of light blue material cut from a blanket. From here, I wake, recognizing I am seeing a “little me” as somewhat of a model of me sleeping in my bed - though the waking transition has already begun and I do not jump into greater lucidity. (Again, I really have to buy new pillows. My present ones are just too thin and it is almost as if I am being sarcastic to myself in my acknowledgment at the waking point.)

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The cornerstone symbol occurred as far back as age four and relates to the “corner” concept in general and was a main focus of very early childhood dreams (and I may make a compilation entry on this on a later date). It relates to both hide-and-seek as well as much earlier “peekaboo” games with toddlers (and the deep memories from childhood). A cornerstone unites walls going in two different directions, one relating to the liminal space farther into the dream state, the other the liminal space farther out of the dream state.

Being atop a higher building means being closer to full consciousness and as such is often the clearest part of a dream. The middleman in this case is obviously James Bond. However, there is a very odd ambiguity here where my dream self also has the essence of the middleman as I am the one who “puts myself” into the “return flight symbol” (natural consciousness displacement of the dream state) to be “rescued” (and of course being rescued means finding your way out of the dream state back into whole consciousness).

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I explain this dream type further in “Dreams of Type PRECONAV-VSCPCEL, 01-15”.

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Morning of May 17, 2016. Tuesday.



Featuring as Gatekeeper: Don Knotts (actor, July 21, 1924-February 24, 2006). Here, he implies (and symbolically demonstrates) control of my transitory waking self, an essence of the Source.

In my dream, I am aware of Carole Cooke (Bessie Limpet) being Don Knott’s (Henry Limpet’s) wife in the “The Incredible Mr. Limpet” (1964 movie) role. Don has to go to the post office to get a couple packages, as he supposedly “collects tanks” and I first assume that this is what he will be receiving in the mail. Even though this seems an obvious reference to fish tanks (again, with regard to the “The Incredible Mr. Limpet” scenario) it is instead something to do with large older water towers and water (storage) tanks, or so I firstly assume (but I do not consider how large they would be or how he would have the space for them at his residence).

Eventually, I am at the Arcadia Post Office with Don (where I have not been in real life since the 1970s). He somehow absentmindedly ends up in the employee area behind the service counter. He looks very old at this point and the postal workers seem somewhat puzzled by his imposition on the wrong side of the service counter but they still allow him to stay and converse with them.

It turns out that, illogically, the “tanks” I expected him to collect from the post office are neither big nor even tanks at all, but seemingly yo-yos. He uses one behind the post office counter, but looks very frail and even unnaturally “shriveled” at this point yet he still seems cheerful and optimistic though otherwise oblivious to his imposition status. I get the impression that even though it is a yo-yo, or appears and functions as a yo-yo, it may somehow also serve as a kind of miniature storage tank (though this is not conclusive).

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A post office represents messages between the dream self and the conscious self (with the gatekeeper here as an implied middleman). A yo-yo is a very rare dream symbol for me, but it represents potential lucidity relating to “up and down” control, that is, control of levels of awareness in the dream state, but here the gatekeeper seemingly has control of my level of consciousness. An aquarium or fish tank (though fleeting and vague in association here) otherwise represents a form of downsized dream-state induction and the outer layers of the unconscious mind.

Morning of May 4, 2016. Wednesday.



There are warnings about the “great white wolf” but over time, it is understood that the term relates more (in a very unlikely sense) to aggressive man-eating sea creatures in icy water, including dolphins, penguins, and seals, which supposedly become more aggressive during the more extreme winter.

There are areas where parts of the ocean are frozen over near shore. It seems unusual that people use the word “wolf” to refer to winter as well as animals that are not wolves or even wolf-like (no actual wolves are ever present). I am aware of a thick cluster of sea creatures, so close together that it seems they cannot move around much but still somehow are a danger for people who swim. (This makes little sense as who would swim in icy water in the first place?)

I seem to be a member of a team making a documentary or special news report. I am in an unfamiliar town that may be in or near Alaska or Canada.

An unknown male is throwing numerous cardboard boxes of various sizes into his open convertible (an odd choice for such cold weather). These boxes are supposedly filled with extra supplies to help get him through the winter. Not only does the idea of driving around in a convertible during a harsh winter seem illogical, the cardboard boxes fill the entire vehicle including the driver’s seat area. Still, I do not question how he is going to drive home as such.

I get the strong inclination to ask him more questions as a “real” reporter would, even things which would be very obvious. I ask him if he is going to stuff blankets or at least cloth around the doors and windows to keep out the cold air. His response is “yes”. I ask him what sort of material he uses for blankets and to stuff around the windows and doors and he replies “hessian”. “Really? Hessian?” I say, for the benefit of anyone watching the broadcast. The idea of using hessian for blankets (which I would think to be very uncomfortable and possibly not very warm) during a harsh winter seems so odd and unlikely to me that it causes me to shift consciousness and wake up.

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Dream state indicators (in this case blankets and bedding) appearing near the end of a dream is a common event. It is not symbolic, but a literal factor of subliminal memory of having fallen asleep. Cars in a scenario such as this often symbolize the physical body and its status (or sometimes the dynamics of a bed in relationship to the body depending on the stage of sleep and other dream content). A convertible with the top down suggests I do not have or want blankets over my body, as this has been validated regarding a few other dreams. This was the case with this dream as well. The RAS mediation at the beginning, still linked to dream state induction (water), though with aggressive animals (though not a direct threat), inherently to prevent me from going back deeper into sleep, did not work so well, thus the preconscious makes a more passive appearance signifying his eventual leave-taking of the dream state, trying to bring my focus on blankets to remind me I am actually asleep and to realize my body is too warm.

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Morning of April 30, 2016. Saturday.



In my dream, my wife Zsuzsanna and our children, mostly as we are now, are living in a distorted version of the Barolin Street house, where we have not lived in years.

I am at the computer on Facebook and apparently writing a response to something my older brother Dennis (half-brother on my mother’s side) had written. I end up writing something about Thor (both flight symbol and lucid dream symbol but which does nothing here) and stating how it is good they are making movies from the Marvel comic books I used to enjoy reading as I was growing up. Oddly, I get the impression that the latest Thor movie is along the lines of an Elvis movie, and there are apparently scenes where a large group of girls is hanging around him, but I do not consider that as unusual.

Looking at the computer screen, I see that there are two responses to what I had written, each about a paragraph long. Oddly, I see that the user name is “But Dennis” and with no avatar. He has written mostly incoherent nonsense claiming that no good movies have been released since the 1960s and it is supposedly my brother’s fault (and I later inform Zsuzsanna of some of what had been written). The first part of each paragraph is a continuation of his user name such as in “But Dennis was responsible for the decline in…” (which is why he uses the troll name “But Dennis”; as he solely trolls Dennis). In real life, this had been utilized as the user name followed by such as “is feeling happy”, but the “But Dennis” as a user name seems a bit clever and I firstly think it might be Linda (a niece) doing this but it is not.

Soon, the very common downgrading shift occurs relative to technology. As I go deeper into my dream, parts of my unconscious that for whatever reason cannot accept computer technology, alter my dream without me even taking notice. Instead of Facebook being on my computer screen, it is now in a softcover notebook where the communication still somehow ensues in the manner of continuous Facebook posts. I consider the possibility of my brother replying to the strange unknown poster, but I do not notice evidence of this. Looking at the next page of the notebook, I see he has written more in fairly neat printing, though what he is saying makes little sense. He writes about how a certain sitcom of years ago was one of the last watchable television shows, but then he starts to write about Thor though none of it is actually correct in reference to either the movie or comic book history.

I notice page after page of his writing and begin to realize that he is insane and his trolling of Dennis may only be a random choice just from seeing his name once. Both his printing and paragraph content change completely from page to page. In the back of my mind, I contemplate how he must write out something then scan it and then upload it so that it appears in the notebook. It does not dawn on me what a ridiculous concept this is or cause me to reflect on the many other dreams where this sort of false technology has appeared. On one page the writing is very large but vertically stretched and slanting backwards which makes it impossible to read. (This is actually based on the trick where you hold a page horizontally up to your eye and then are able to see what is written when it is elongated over the entire page.)

I eventually come across pages that look as if they were written out on an old typewriter. I tell Zsuzsanna how he probably should have done that in the first place, but after that, there are more pages of scribbled handwriting. Finally, I reach a page where it supposedly shows his photograph at the top (somewhat like a Facebook banner). When I look at it, it first seems to be the actor Mitch Pileggi, who played Skinner on “The X-Files”, yet I tell Zsuzsanna that “I know him” and that it is my foreman from one of the factories I had worked at in La Crosse.

As is typical of the continuous inconsistency of dreams, he is now depicted as a blind Albino African who apparently had been homeless for a long time, though another homeless black male is in the foreground on the right (a direct giveaway to who this “dream journal” actually belongs to) and a Norwegian backpacker on the far left. I cannot be sure which one is the writer. I notice that the back of the notebook is torn and the last few pages are solely thick scribbles in felt pen. For some reason the faux logic of my dream changes completely and I come to the conclusion that he must have somehow placed the notebook in our house when we were not aware of it. “He must have done it around twelve o'clock,” says Zsuzsanna. It concerns me that someone had been in our house while we were sleeping and we had somehow not awakened at the time. (This is an obvious dream sign - talking about sleeping while in the dream state, especially in reference to what seems like someone leaving their dream journal in our house - but I do not catch on at all.)

And now the waking transition begins. It seems to be late at night. I go onto the porch and see a strange man on our sidewalk (of about fifty or more) looking cautiously at our porch. Though it still looks like the Barolin Street house in some ways, there is no fence. There are several young girls running around on our front lawn, all wearing pajamas. Off to the left, there is a square shallow foxhole (about six feet by six feet) with pillows along all sides. One girl jumps in and rolls to the center. Other girls stand about gossiping. This does not bother me as I consider that it may be some sort of school-related ceremony. The man comes up to our door. I push my steel barbell through the mail slot in case he tries anything threatening (blatant symbolism here), though he seems somewhat nervous. He speaks a bit incoherently and seems to be warning me of a couple other males in the neighborhood.

Strangely, our porch rotates to where it is now perpendicular in orientation to how it had felt before, seemingly facing north instead of east. Still, I do not pay notice to this change at all in my dream. A different man approaches our door. He is only about half the age of the other man. Again, I hold out the barbell in case he chooses to impose further. He brings attention to the strange insect nests on our porch. I lie and tell him that we are moving anyway so as to cause him to not impose further with his insincere concern. I look up and see a lot of strange features near the porch light including what looks like a sleeping bat, though it is actually some sort of strange black cobweb hanging down. One of the features looks like a large white fuzzy ball hanging from the ceiling, bigger than a baseball. “You have a Kapoosh up there,” he points out, stating that it is a type of very dangerous venomous ant nest (though a Kapoosh is actually for holding knives and is usually a cube, not a sphere). The concept of a singular ant living high up triggers vague but inconsequential doubt.

“Good, I wish there was a lot more, to keep people like you away from our porch,” I say sarcastically. (It actually represents my attempt to keep dreaming even though I am not lucid, as it represents the downsizing of the moon near the ceiling. This is why I am adamant against this “intruder” who is actually my emergent conscious mind sent to the porch-liminal point to wake me.)

Soon, a (fictional; nonexistent in real layout) door opens on the opposite side of the porch which apparently also leads to outside (and it does not occur to me that this is impossible, as it would actually have to lead into our bedroom if there was really a door there). An unknown male comes in and grabs me. The other male also enters the porch from the front. Even though the waking mechanism has already been triggered, I still decide to knock them back with the barbell but the first male grabs it and prevents its movement. Finally, I have had enough of this dream and become lucid in the last second. Even though it is futile and the waking mechanism is already nearing its end, I mentally change my right hand into a gun and shoot both of them and they go flying backwards in opposite directions.

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Many people who have legitimately and honestly worked with real dreams probably know that the porch of a house is a waking transition setting. This of course is because it is directly between one’s living quarters and the outside world in real life, to metaphorically render the state between deeper dreaming and the path to waking. Even more obvious, I should have also realized this from the dream signs (girls in pajamas and the foxhole with pillows around it as a play on “the outside world is also sleeping and dreaming now”) and thus would either let the less aggressive male instigate the waking mechanism or decide to become lucid and perhaps greatly lengthen my dream and awareness level. As it is, violence was needed to wake me (with the old “being killed” metaphor to “destroy” the dream self as it probably had originally been at the beginning of mankind).

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The notebook with all the different writing reminds me a lot of a teacher’s writing rubric standards guide with open response question examples related to a reading assessment, which shows how various students answered a particular query in their own writing, which displays vastly different levels of intelligence even in high school students, almost to a surreal degree.

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Morning of April 15, 2016. Friday.



I find myself in an unknown area, seemingly indoors, with no memory of much of anything. I think that there may be some sort of movie being made but this is not certain. The setting may be either a movie studio or a warehouse for movie props.

There is a large (apparently uprooted) tree on its side. The area with the roots is very large and complex. There is another (unknown) younger male character present.

I look more closely at the area of the large roots and notice a number of “eggs” between sections of the roots. However, these “eggs” soon seem to somehow be very small egg-shaped mechanical men that are also somewhat like egg-shaped garden gnomes. I cannot really determine the nature of the setting at this point though I decide that the tree is some sort of very odd movie prop.

One of the “roots” is actually some sort of lever. I pull it and a human-sized mechanical man emerges from the underside of the tree, from within the roots (as if the bottom of the tree is mostly hollow). The mechanical man is dressed in ordinary clothes and emerges stomach down with its arms forward, but moving with a sort of slower butterfly stroke swimming pattern, but also implying it is “reaching out” towards the other person. This “reaching out” is only incidental however, as this mechanical prop would always do this same routine whenever someone pulls the lever. I find it somewhat amusing and vaguely familiar, though I am not really focused on what sort of movie this big prop might be for. In a way, it reminds me of me when I was perhaps around twenty years of age.

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This is a very strange (and for me, entirely unique) waking transition. The butterfly stroke as being relative to swimming is an excellent hybrid flight symbol and simultaneous water emergence metaphor, similar to a manta ray, stingray, flying fish, or flying sub association.

Instead of climbing a tree as related to moving through another level of conscious awareness within my dream, my dream-self projected “mechanical me” (which otherwise symbolizes the “unreal” aspect of the dream state itself and the lack of a “real” physical form for the dreamer in the dream state), comes from inside the tree, and from the underside, as metaphorical for waking up. (Of course, “movie” is a replacement word for the dream state, though as stated before, fictional dream characters curiously also use “movie” to describe a real-life event.)

This is probably one of the only times I have seen a tree in a dream symbolize birth or awakening and as representing motherhood (validated by all the little egg men which are analogous to human ovaries, the tree roots being analogous to fallopian tubes in this case). Very curious. I am otherwise very familiar with this symbolism since I have documented hundreds of dreams which utilized this same basic template (including “The Tadpole’s Ghost” and “Red Wagon Teleportation” and many others). However, I am not aware of any dominant light source (or beam or ray) in this dream, though which is probably implied to be the seeming daytime setting itself (though I do not recall seeing a sunbeam coming from a window or doorway).

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Updated on Friday, 1 July 2016: I forgot that “coming out of a tree” could also be a play on “The Lorax”, who came out of a tree after it was chopped down. This then, would also seemingly be a reference to mortality rather than just birth. “The Lorax” was broadcast first on Valentine’s Day in 1972 and my father died on Valentine’s Day in 1979. The connection seems obvious now. There are probably hundreds (more like thousands) of markers like this in my dreams which I have not discovered yet.

Morning of April 14, 2016. Thursday.

Dream #: 18,014-02. Reading time (optimized): 2 min 30 sec.



My dream starts as a typical painting and maintenance dream. The setting is a version of our present home with a fictitious open room between the lounge room and dining area where a big wardrobe against the west wall is between them.

I have clarity as I enjoy my work. I have an occasional concern about paint dripping on folded clothes on wardrobe shelves and the floor. It is light blue paint that changes to a cream color and back to blue. It occurs (several times) when switching back and forth to the different rooms. At one point, I am concerned by the thicker ridges caused by having slapped on too much paint.

Above our bed, a short distance from the ceiling is an artistic feature left by the former tenant. There are red ribbons in a trailing frame pattern that partially enclose a large and rectangular piece of tinfoil that blocks about eighty percent of the view of the ceiling. I try to paint around it.

I see a large and ancient painted tapestry. The paint seems to have expanded and blurred over time. I recall that all I have to do is touch something to refurbish or perfect it. I feel the upper right corner of the tapestry. As a result, it becomes beautiful and more defined as I watch, more detail clarifying the image in a slow sweep from right to left. I think I will finish painting the walls this way. Even so, the walls paint themselves in a light cream and blue pattern as the previous lumps and minor cracks smooth out.

I summon a haunting (regular in dreams since childhood). I pretend the room is haunted, knowing if I concentrate, I can bring about a haunting. I read various large letters and word clusters on the wall. An unknown female, a professional investigator, who reminds me of actress Helen Kleeb as in the 1970s, writes down what I say, most of which is gibberish I spell out for her.

Eventually, I say, “Oh, it’s a name.” It is Rosemary Berry (unfamiliar, but it reminds me of other rhyming dream names, such as Tony Karoni). I report “Ms” appears before the name. (It is possibly an association with “MS. Found in a Bottle” by Edgar Allan Poe, or Matisyahu’s “Message in a Bottle.” I have recently listened to it and made a version. However, the “MS.” of the Edgar Allan Poe story supposedly means “message” in only some sources and “manuscript” in more credible sources). I am glad signs of a ghost are present even though I am aware it is the result of my pretense.

Suddenly, I am a little boy of about eight years old, and I see an unfamiliar friendly boy (a ghost of a former resident) walking up to a jagged hole in the wall. (This “doorway” is a haunting feature, and other people who are present cannot see it.) I am aware his name is Hamlet. The investigator is supposed to be my mother now. (Helen is the name of my wife Zsuzsanna’s mother). I tell her about Hamlet. She says, “Oh” and remarks with seeming frustration and disappointment, “You’re just dreaming!” She thinks the Rosemary Berry incident we shared previously was a dream. I feel her condescension, but as I am a child, there is not anything I think I could say. She towers over me to my right, and I feel like a child in size contrast.

We walk through a parking lot (for liminal modulation, typically the last setting in a dream). After looking at documents she was carrying in her bag, she cautiously says, “Oh…Hamlet was one of the former residents…” (with attestation emphasis on “was”). She looks at me curiously as I wake slowly.

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Morning of April 13, 2016. Wednesday.

Dream #: 18,013-03. Reading time (optimized): 2 min 15 sec.



As in real life, there is machinery and noise at the corner where they are removing a big tree stump. However, at one point in my dream, it seems to be occurring earlier, before sunrise. I go into the front (computer) room as well as onto our front porch. Somehow, the machinery is causing vibrations that alter everything in the neighborhood by causing dirt to vanish from deep in the ground throughout the location, causing the topsoil to collapse, of which I get a strong impression, which creates an unusual but vivid physical awareness of the whole setting and its changes.

Our home shakes and vibrates. I am vividly aware of large sections of dirt falling from the underside of our house. I think this may eventually interfere with the plumbing or electrical system. It does not occur to me that this is an invalid concept as there is no dirt on the underside of our house (as it is on stumps with the ground over two feet below it).

My concern about our house changes in an offset dream of about the same clarity. I decide that, since they are removing a stump from a public area, I should remove the buried stump from our backyard near the fictitious southwest space and west fence. My dream’s setting of our whole yard (though most everything else in our neighborhood, including our house, stays of the same orientation otherwise) looks nothing like our yard other than if the external layout is mirrored from north to south and from that, flipped east to west, yet with the real-life stump otherwise near the southeast corner (though not of the same appearance as the tree stump in my dream) rotated ninety degrees west.

It does not take much effort at all to dig a little bit and pull out the large tree stump solely with my bare hands, interestingly enough, though this impossibility does not dawn on me at all. I carry it around to our front yard and also see that I have found a sign buried near the stump. I bring it out to the council workers who are mostly sitting on the curb or working across the street. One man, while sitting on our curb, looks at the sign (which is about two by three feet but very light wood) and seems puzzled.

“I did this one,” he says, referring to the white sign which has his signature under a filled-in work number from several years ago. It turns out to be a warning to not touch the buried stump (despite the sign being underground as well) due to it being highly toxic. (I do not question why the city council would bury a toxic tree stump from elsewhere, such as a park, in someone’s yard.) This exchange causes me to feel foolish in having removed the stump but also to question why they are removing tree stumps from public places while burying poisoned ones in people’s yards.

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Update (July 2020): My dream was partly telepathic, but ironically, the information I was picking up from someone turned out to be incorrect. After this dream, a taxi driver told me the city council would be removing all the trees on our street (which has not happened). He oddly assumed that the new posts around the trees were for poisoning them when they were mostly to hold reflectors.

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Morning of April 11, 2016. Monday.

Dream #: 18,011-02. Reading time (optimized): 2 min.



My dream is a science-fiction scenario, but it seems as if I am in a movie. It may be taking place in the present but with fictitious technology. I am with an unfamiliar girl and an unknown man. There is a teleportation system. The girl has a black spider pillow (about the size of a couch cushion) that looks somewhat cartoon-like. There is a teleportation mishap.

I am lying on the ground in the woods with the two others. The girl is sleeping to my right. Most of the legs had come off (or had been cut off by the teleportation malfunction) of the spider pillow (a play on my dream self not having real legs). It briefly squeaks as if it is alive or is a robotic pet, but this idea fades, and it is only a pillow.

Instinctual awareness of being asleep (the pillow, sleeping in my dream, and quantum Zsuzsanna sleeping near me) does not trigger conscious recognition I am dreaming. (My waking-life identity is absent.) I wonder what is going on. (As a spider visually represents the human hand, this is a possible play on having my hand on or under the pillow while sleeping.)

Another teleportation malfunction occurs. It seems to be part of a spying technology but goes awry. We end up in a candy and confectionery manufacturing building in New Jersey.

We wander around while the girl seems to have breathing issues. An older woman who behaves like a housekeeper on an old American sitcom gives her something that I first thought might be candy but is medicine. It takes place in a big room where numerous long wooden tables are in an equidistant arrangement.

My attention wanders to where I try to find something in a big telephone book (seeking communication while in the dream state). I search through the yellow pages, but I am uncertain if this is what I should be doing. Soon, I seem to find what I had intended to see more of - movie listings. The print on the small movie posters is so little as to be unreadable. The features are on two panels shrunk down and rotated to be displayed lengthways. It seems to be because movie posters and theater scheduling information is not as important as residential and business listings.

I mentally magnify the page to read some of it, but soon realize I am doing it without a magnifying glass. As an illogical consequence, my sight returns to normal, and I cannot read the tiny print. I realize I need to find a magnifying glass, but I do not see one.

I am in the Loomis Street house living room, but I still see it as the candy factory. Long chunks of dust hang from various areas of the ceiling and walls. It seems no one does any cleaning. I consider I should vacuum the rooms even though I am not an employee. On another level, it seems natural that more and more dust should accumulate.

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Morning of April 10, 2016. Sunday.



In my dream, I am in an unfamiliar building which seems to be in Japan, or at least I am aware that the building is Japanese. (I have only been in Japan for a short time for one day in my life in reality in my move to Australia.)

After a time, a tooth on the upper right (which I do not even have in reality - which is ironic) feels slightly loose. I move it with my tongue. I end up pulling it out with my fingers even though it is not that loose.

After this, I am aware of my mouth bleeding from the area I pulled the tooth out. I go to the sink (which is illogically in the unfamiliar bedroom I am in, on the opposite side of the room from a large window) and keep spitting out thicker blood. After about five or six times, I start to wonder how much more blood I can lose (it seems like a lot) before I start to feel differently or even pass out. No one else seems to be around at that point. It slowly dawns on me that I am dreaming, which I find somewhat amusing in that my dream self fell for the losing teeth scenario yet again (though it was more common when I was younger).

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Other than when it is relevant to an actual real-life focus (such as recently having a tooth pulled or having an actual toothache), I sincerely believe that dreams of losing teeth have no “interpretation” at all as it seems a common waking transition component, which in actual cause, is simply the dissolution of the dream and the cessation of the dream self (since using one’s mouth is a main way of acknowledging one’s consciousness and wakefulness to others and the unconscious self cannot speak - so the dream renders a focus on the fictional dream body’s mouth as losing teeth - pretty simple), just as falling, rising into the air, or suddenly tripping, or even seeing something falling from the sky is (of which also typically have no “interpretation” and are simply a natural form of the waking transition). Still, I think this bleeding may relate to acknowledgement of the energies of my internal dawning consciousness and physical form in a similar way that tripping over in hypnopompia is acknowledging the dream setting does not physically exist during the waking transition. The color red also dominates a dream when I have been asleep a bit too long.

I will note however, that when I was younger, most such dreams proved to be precognitive of which teeth I would actually be losing in a specific order. The only way to explain this would have to relate to some sort of foreshadowing regarding body awareness that is presently not understood (which of course does not explain all the other types of more detailed literal and visual prescience). This one is the reverse though. That is, it is the literal memory of already having lost the tooth, though assigned to a common hypnopompic distortion.

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Morning of April 7, 2016. Thursday.



There is a backstory to my dream of having collected water from a shallow pond. I am not sure of the setting or its location. My sister Marilyn (half-sister on my mother’s side) is nearby and as she appeared before I moved to Florida in 1967. My family as they are now are also present at one point.

I look into the water and below the surface I see many implied one-celled animals (which you can only clearly see with a microscope in real life). Marilyn also looks on.

I see a glowing transparent centipede, swimming downwards (which puzzles me since I know centipedes are not aquatic), forming a moving staircase shape (like a mobile escalator) eventually going out of sight. The one-celled animals (mainly protozoa) swim down out of sight but are visible at other times.

Eventually, a small fish jumps up out of the “aquarium” which surprises Marilyn. I am somewhat surprised as well, because I thought I had gotten the water from a pond that was not deep enough to be suitable for fish. I am not sure where the fish is after the jump, perhaps on the floor. (A fish out of water represents the dreamer coming out of the dream and as a result, my dream shifts to the waking transition.)

Later, I am holding an antlion larva. Over time, I notice blood on the tip of one of my fingers. It seems that it had been biting me (even though they do not bite in my experience). However, it also seems to instead be the result of a hangnail. Still, I ask my sister whether or not antlions eat people.

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Again, a fish is a projection of the dream self in the dream state (and water represents sleep and the flow of thoughts in the dream state). The one-celled animals may be a reference to minor neuron activity or a subliminal association with other dreamers. An aquarium is a downsized focus on the dream state itself, representing the human mind on one level.

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The unlikely “phasing” centipede swimming in the water represents a shift in consciousness. In this case, as it swims deeper, it forms a symbolic staircase to link to the nonlinear events throughout my life and down into the depths of the unconscious. This is evident by the link to a version of the original childhood “Taboo” dream (sparsely recurring, no more than perhaps four times) and upon checking, I found markers and parallels. It has the same basic setup; that is, looking at an aquarium of (visible to the naked eye) one-celled animals, though this was in third grade in 1970, one version found to be on today’s date exactly forty-six years ago (and which appears to have been partially influenced by the movie “Jigsaw”, about a man finding a body submerged in a bathtub). I have not held antlion larva much since third grade. This ending element represents a typical waking transition because an adult antlion resembles a dragonfly, which is a flight symbol. The bloody finger may be an association with our youngest son’s hangnail. The reference to “eating people” is a reference to coalescence and the dream self merging into whole consciousness during the waking transition (especially the association with “lion” as a lion is often a form of the more aggressive emergent consciousness). Also, an antlion is shaped somewhat like a human thumb, where my youngest son’s hangnail was. The antlion’s mandibles may be an association with the hangnail itself.

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Other phasing staircase references (as the “water centipede” in this dream) can be found in dreams such as “Rocket Science?” (July 2, 1976), where a sheet of typing paper mysteriously “rolls” down from the ceiling (which represents the liminal state between sleeping and waking) and forms a staircase pattern or brief “escalator”. This focus greatly intensified that dream. A similar event occurs in “White Noise Staircase” (February 21, 2014). Identifying phasing staircases may be beneficial, since I believe that it may also be relevant to a deeper bond with the Source and wholeness, as a staircase is a link between sleeping, dreaming, and waking).

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A centipede may be a dream’s rendering of the human spinal cord. In water (as in this dream) it serves as both a reminder of the human physical form as such and immersion in the dream state via the staircase or escalator metaphor. On one level it is the energies of my unconscious awareness returning to the Source. In the first version of “Taboo” from 1970, it was more about “sea monkeys” (brine shrimp) on one level. These “sea monkeys” also represent the human spinal cord.

Morning of April 3, 2016. Sunday.



I am present in a three-dimensional animated setting yet I do not perceive it as representing a cartoon or featuring cartoon characters. Scrooge McDuck has a large new airplane. Huey, Dewey, and Louie are present and look on at him in puzzlement regarding his “car repair” activities. We are apparently in the basement of one of his mansions.

It seems that Scrooge McDuck does not know that he has an airplane and instead thinks that he has a large fancy car. As a result, he thinks that the “car” could use a lot of work. This includes taking the propeller off the front as well as sawing off the wings.

In the end, it seems that he still might find it a bit difficult to drive the “car” up the stairs.

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The basement setting is autosymbolic of having been in deeper sleep prior to RAS mediation commencing.

The staircase is precursory autosymbolism that represents the liminal anticipation of the waking process, in this case, going up the staircase to achieve consciousness.

Scrooge McDuck as my preconscious avatar, rendered to correlate with the waking process dynamics, is in the usual preconscious scenario of resolving the vestibular system correlation inherent to the dream state, which is based on resolving the illusory physicality of the dream self. Both an airplane and a car typically represent the physical body in sleep as a factor of vestibular system correlation, but as an airplane flies, the transformation is autosymbolic of resolving that the real physical body is in bed, with the anticipation of the falling sensation typically experienced as a biological factor of the waking process no longer present.

With this dream type, my preconscious avatar has the essence of the emergent consciousness factor, which is shared by the potential of the car going up the stairs.

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Night of March 26, 2016. Saturday.



Sometimes I think that if a dream ever rendered a setting correctly, without a feeling of bilocation, or indoor and outdoor ambiguity, or of a unique composite or changes in directional orientation or colors or other details, I would not to know what to think at all. In this dream, I am technically looking at my old family home in Cubitis yet with the idea it is our present home even though my dream occurs directly after falling asleep for a short time during a nap this night and I had not been inside that house since mid-1978.

Not only that, the Cubitis bathroom is an altered setting as it is. It is larger to where the west wall (where the doorway also is) is long enough for both a large squarish porcelain sink and a stove (with large oven) with four heating elements, both features on the door’s right (and the right of the stove being directly near the northwest corner, it seems). The setting remains in semidarkness (with no implied light source other than apparently the hallway light). I do not focus on the east side of the room at all - I am only ever aware of the basin and stove that are next to each other. (In reality, the sink, which was much smaller than the one in this dream, was on the north wall, near the northwest corner.)

Fire is one of my most common dream features second only to water. There have been other dreams of attempting to put out a stove fire with water. In this case, curiously enough, the fire starts from behind one of the stove’s dials (rather than a heating element or pan being on fire). The dial itself is extended horizontally outwards a bit more from the top of the stove than would be logical (or perhaps it pulled out a bit farther than intended) and the four dials are located beyond and behind the heating elements rather than above the oven.

Concerned about this event, I flip up both switches on the wall (which are next to me, immediately to the right of the door and above the sink) even though I am not certain about which direction (up or down) is on or off (as up was always “on” in places I lived in America, but in Australia, it sometimes varies even within the same house, though up is often “off”). I “know” that the switch on the right is for the stove and the left one is apparently for the hot water availability for the left faucet/tap (which of course is not realistic at all). Still, this is illogical enough to cause my dream self to become puzzled for a short time (though not lucid). Does the switch turn off the water completely or only the hot water?

I am able to fill a glass of water and throw it at the fire. It takes about three attempts before the fire is under control (even though it is only around the dial).

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Fire usually relates directly to growing conscious awareness within the dream state (and some fire dreams trigger lucidity), which seems validated by the concept of growing awareness of the light of day (including sunrise or dawn even though this dream was at night) as well as being “brighter” in clarity and perception. Awareness of fire seems to make a dream more vivid. As I put the fire out, my dream loses its vividness and I soon wake.

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Morning of March 21, 2016. Monday.



I am with my family mostly as we are now (though I seem to be much younger at one point) where we presently live on W Street, though the house is bigger. Our kitchen is much bigger and has an extra counter running from south to north on the east side of the back hallway, with extra shelves above it. As I walk through our kitchen at one point, I notice a lot of loaves of bread and what seems to be cheap birthday party items (such as unopened packages with paper hats, paper plates, and cheap novelties and party favors and such). I am not sure whose birthday is upcoming.

At one point, there are a lot of Matchbox Cars arranged on different surfaces, mostly in two rows. A couple older males appear in our house eventually, though I am not sure of the reason. There is something about one of them trying to find a certain Matchbox Car, but which is a car from the 1940s. I try to help but I am not sure where everything is. I know I have most of the ones made in the 1960s. I think the Mercedes 300SE may be relevant but I do not say anything, only that I may be able to find what they are seeking (though I do not).

There is illogical setting distortion for a short time where I seem to shift outside and back inside while just standing in one spot (though the view may be implied to be from our window, though as a requisite it would have no screen or curtains), where I am looking at one of the men (who must have teleported there but who is back for the next scene) in a small light yellow golf cart (facing away from the west side of our house on the footpath) which seemingly resembles a downsized Roadster Hot Rod from the 1940s and I remark that I have a Matchbox Car like that, which is not exactly true as I firstly mistake the golf cart for an old car design and then consider I may be thinking about a different model, yet it really just looks like a modern ordinary golf cart upon a closer look. I feel a bit unusual and ineffectual in designating a new golf cart as a 1940s hot rod but the scene shifts again (though the scene itself seems random and like a “glitch” or like a very short dream within a longer and more vivid dream that slightly altered its flow).

Interestingly, Jack Odell (March 19, 1920-July 7, 2007) is present and walking about for quite some time. I am not sure why he is spending his time here for a day or two. We are talking about various aspects of Matchbox Cars (as the time period seems to shift physically only at one level and my collection is not present as it was just previously - though our sons still have many Matchbox Cars in their own rooms) as well as other ideas, including the unfortunate end of product quality and customer service in modern times with poorer and poorer design and less and less longevity and usability in anything made. He reflects on various events. I tell him how I used to keep my Matchbox Cars in a large suitcase. For some reason, I visualize all of them piled atop each other within the suitcase (it was actually a large black typewriter case), but in reality, they were kept in the original box. I tell him about the very first Matchbox Car I was given, which I cannot quite remember the name or number of. I give a couple details about it, including the green boat for the rack on top, and he seems to know what I mean.

“Ford Love,” he says, smiling. (It was actually a Ford Corsair.) I consider that Ford Love is a “real” model and nod hesitantly (since I do not want to call him wrong), but possibly not the one I had, though I do not say anything. He seems happy and nostalgic and I feel I am spending a day in a “realm of good memories” - yet I also seem puzzled as to why such a wealthy and well-known person would spend a day or two at our house, especially in such an informal and friendly manner. There are dream remnants that seem like “echoes” of long periods of conversation, like a subtle “phantom audio” that only some dream types produce.

Morning of March 4, 2016. Friday.

Dream #: 17,973-02. Reading Time: 2 min 33 sec.



This dream is long and about flying, with the theme a comic-book-like adventure with meetings with supervillains. In the beginning, I am the only mutant in the world. After a lengthy meandering segment with me flying around using the term “human” somewhat disparagingly, with increasing emotion, I begin to understand that there are others like me, though this is mostly a farce at first.

I find it amusing that people, mostly in their twenties, are joining a group of supervillains even though they are thus far not only not mutants but have no special abilities. None of them can fly as I can. Still, they seem happy when I meet them.

A young man who is short and oddly dressed cheerfully shakes hands with me and claims he is Mole Man (a Marvel Comics villain). I am his inspiration. Other people will soon follow him but symbolically remain under my command. I acknowledge him out of mock respect (with subliminal dream state awareness) though I do not patronize him, as he is taking it seriously even though, again, he is not a mutant. The situation is inviting and interesting.

Later, I see a young male who is having trouble walking because of a physical impairment of one leg being longer than the other. People are making fun of him. He eventually seems to be spitting small balls of fire a distance from the sidewalk into a little cylindrical rubbish bin behind a business building. Although most of the other supervillains I meet have already chosen their name, I call him “Pyro,” which relates to fire as well as the Marvel character. He asks me, “What about Pyro-Gomdulla?” Curiously, I recall a dream from 1971 and the Gomdulla character (from a comic book), yet do not fully realize I am dreaming. I consider he could become a giant mummy with telekinetic abilities (as in the comic book story) if he chooses that name, so I tell him that Gomdulla is an unsuitable phrase in a different language. He decides to keep “Pyro.”

I eventually fly around with a younger version of Zsuzsanna, carrying her on my left side. (She sleeps on my left in reality.) I start to think others are developing the ability to fly, but this proves to be incorrect. I meet an unknown girl with no pupils or irises. She seems to be like the Scarlet Witch in abilities though with Storm’s overall appearance.

Eventually, it starts to dawn on me that, because supervillains exist, a superhero or two could come into the picture and prove to be problematic (though this thought does not concern me). I assume much of that would be pretense as well. However, there are eventually additional “real” mutants who have unique powers and can fly. I also meet up with Captain Marvel, portrayed as an otherwise normal male in an elaborate white and purplish-blue costume that features various symbols. He cannot seem to fly and is not exceptionally strong. I throw him around, his cape sometimes going over his head, making it difficult for him to see or fight, and I am asking him why he does not fly. Presently, there are two superheroes on Earth, Captain Marvel and one I do not recall, who mostly sit in restaurants and converse in costume.

From here, the differences between heroes and villains seem superficial, as I remain only subliminally (not actively) aware of being in the dream state.

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The presence of Mole Man relates to subliminally perceiving being asleep as “being underground” while, in contrast, Pyro represents the potential for consciousness reinitiation (waking from the dream state). The “living mummy” reference (Gomdulla) relates to being asleep as well (covered by a blanket). The girl villainess with no pupil or iris mostly signifies that my real eyes cannot see while I am asleep.