non-lucid

Morning of November 29, 2015. Sunday.



In the first part of my dream, I am in an unfamiliar city setting. I walk out from an alley with an unknown male. I somehow (based on an implied back story) had previously lifted three sections of sidewalk, boulevard, and parking lot, complete with trees and vines that hang down. We walk under the hovering features, each about the size of one and a half lots. They are hovering about fifteen feet up. In the back of my mind, I am thinking that it is safe to walk under them since a part of me is likely still focused on them.

The main segment of my dream involves a style of dreaming that began when I was very young. In fact, it seems like some sort of continuation (at least on one level) from “Frankenstein Closes the World” from when I was only four years of age (April 9, 1965). It involves part of the setting being “blocked” like a continuous wall preventing access to a certain direction (in this case possibly north). Over time in my dreams, the number and type of “station keepers” changed. One of my first “station keepers” (as I refer to them) was probably the Frankenstein Monster (Boris Karloff version). That is the one that appears here. There are other elements that were more common when I was very young, including even the first part above with the hovering sections of the city (also beginning around age four). However, I actually “feel” about ten or eleven years of age in my dream.

Part of the situation seems borrowed from the original “Dark Shadows” board game I had when very young. It had a set of miniature plastic skeletons and a cardboard coffin. A recurring situation occurs here where “ancient papers” are found and I realize they had, instead, been very recently printed (this may be a play on a dream freshly rendering something implied to otherwise be “ancient”). In this case, there seems to be some sort of challenge to get into a mock mausoleum (though integrated into the high and long wall) but which at first seems like a “door to Satan”. Even this part stems from when I was very young. The other male, who seems to be interested in some sort of “contest” seems very wary about going up to the “door to Satan”, though in front of the door, there is something related to the contest or a rare potential discovery. I seem to remember that Satan does not exist and decide it is probably an archetype of the subconscious that we will be facing. I then remember that the subconscious does not exist as popularly defined (only different levels of awareness, both internal and external, including the supraconscious and the Source) and feel oblivious to any concerns the other male may have (even though I am not lucid).

As such, I go up to the wall with the recess (or short hallway) and a section of the wall comes out like a drawer, at ground level (this may be a play on post office associations, or a PO drawer since “I hug PO Virgo” is directly encoded in my full name and also the date of the original dream version was on my wedding anniversary years before it became as such). It has a coffin which is about one-quarter the size of an adult coffin. I open it, expecting to find macabre remains of some kind, and there are miniature “real” skeletons, one of a girl in fetal position with long white hair and only about five inches high. There are also a couple cartoon-like (unrealistic) skulls as well as some random debris and cobweb. It still seems somewhat “ancient”, but as mentioned earlier, the “ancient parchments” look freshly printed. This and another dream of this date had precognitive facets related to a false pregnancy (pseudocyesis) - which explains the miniature skeletal girl in the fetal position. Frankenstein, on the other hand (on one level), has become a symbol for normal people in mainstream society in relationship to pop culture, the media, and authority; lumbering and unintelligent.

Finally, I open the “door to Satan” and behind it is an extension of the hallway recess of the wall. Boris Karloff’s Frankenstein monster appears, walking mummy-like. He goes after the other male, but it is rather amusing. Both of them move slowly, somewhat like a slowed-down “Keystone Cops” event (also often written as “Keystone Kops”). I decide to see what is farther down the hallway, but the other male comes back around, moving in an arc around the left side of the wall and coming back from the other direction, with the horror movie monster in pursuit but not threatening me, just in the way. I avoid colliding with the stumbling creature and watch the “chase” passively.

Morning of November 28, 2015. Saturday.



Yet again I am seemingly living in Cubitis, or at least in a version of my Cubitis bedroom (though there is not much furniture whereas the room had been crowded with furniture prior to my move), though I am also aware that I am married and living with my family as they are now, yet somehow, I perceive that I may only be around twenty years of age.

It seems late at night or a couple hours before sunrise, perhaps. All of my lights are on and the room is bright at first (unrealistically bright, in fact, though the scene is very vivid). However, there is eventually a strange mood, a sense of someone being outside in our front yard, and my lights go out at this point - though there also seems to be a bit of light and movement outside, perhaps from a flashlight shining through the curtains or a brief flash of the light from a police car (perceived as approaching from the north). I am wondering how this happened. Perhaps someone shut off the power from outside - yet I also get the impression that I may have mentally caused the power to go off of as an act of self-preservation. I decide to move away from all the tall windows so that my shadow is not seen to anyone outside, which is a bit illogical, as my shadow would have been more likely seen when my lights were on (typical skewed dream “logic”).

I carefully go to the middle west window and look out and see an unknown male (perhaps in his thirties) and another male to his left who may be his son. There are a couple backpacks lying on our lawn to their right and some of their apparel seems militia-related but not all. They are standing near the center of the front yard. They do not see me at any point. A strange event occurs. The older male fires a bazooka at our roof and I am aware that he is doing this because he is angry about our satellite dish and communications technology and I get a strong impression he does not want me or anyone in my family to communicate with anyone. He does not seem to want to destroy our household, just stop us from giving accurate information to people as well as preventing us from getting information from people or the outside world in general.

I go out to the carport and casually say hello to them after writing down the license plate number of their car (parked adjacent to the highway past our front yard), which is six digits in all and begins with a “three”, though I did not hold the number in my mind long enough to remember what it was now. It was “three” followed by a space, followed by three numbers (possibly 467), another space, and two more numbers (possibly 92). Somehow, I take it to actually be a telephone number such as one seen in a so-called infomercial (even though again, there are only six digits).

They walk into our carport, seeming uncertain of what to expect, but come into our house. The older male sits in an armchair (facing south and to the left of the implied carport door) and his son sits perpendicular to him to my right (facing west) as I am facing north, looking directly at the older male. The room and layout becomes unknown. It still seems to be implied to be my bedroom, but the carport door actually seems to lead to a hall at this point. (It is so typical of dreams to change layouts of a house at different times, as I had just used that door to go out to the carport and back into my room and now it leads to a hall.)

I very quickly pick up my large Olympic barbell (almost without thinking, as it had been leaning to my right against my chair) and jam it into his mouth (still remaining seated in my armchair and he in his across the room from me), all the way to the back of his neck, it seems. He is still alive but cannot move or speak and his eyes are bulging in utter fear. Although his face is generically human, it is too oddly rendered to be a real human face (typical of some dream types and scenes). His teenage son is very worried and remains seated and does not do anything even though they had brought their weapons into our house. He pleads with me not to hurt his father to any greater extent. I tell my wife Zsuzsanna, who is walking easterly by in the (fictional) hall, to call the police, even though I get a vague sense they may not like my “mistreatment” of this criminal, though that concern is not wholly emergent at any point.

Morning of November 26, 2015. Thursday.



In my dream, I am living with my family as we are now, though over time, it becomes like a variant of Cubitis (though the hallway is replaced by our present living room, it seems - another new and unique composite as always).

As usual, the snake situation is very vivid and its approach is somewhat worrisome. I know that this snake is very venomous but I do not know the name of the species. Still, I am somehow able to avoid being bitten by the snake even though I am lying on the floor at times. I seem to be yelling at some sort of unseen presence to kill it, even calling the presence rude names. There is one point where my oldest son comes out and makes an attempt to catch it. There is another point where it crawls over the extension cord on the floor.

I manage to cut it at the back of its head (with a hoe, I think). It somehow ends up higher, crawling from the top of our refrigerator and hanging down on the right side where I perceive it is wounded to where it is no longer a major threat (though still potentially dangerous if the head is close enough to bite - though it moves slower here). It seems to be tangled in the vertical electric cord (which is over a nail just above and right of our refrigerator to resolve slack) for a short time to where it is difficult to safely tell where the cord ends and the snake begins. (At this point, it seems obvious the snake symbol has an association with a concern over the danger of frayed electric cords or electricity itself - and this also seems to be the case with other “snake in the house” dreams.)

Finally, the snake is beheaded and its body does not move much. However, its head moves around the house like a toy racing car, still posing a threat and now moving faster than ever without its body. I manage to catch up with it and slice its head across in segments into about five sections (now seeming to be in my father’s room from childhood but only vaguely), almost giving it the appearance of a small cake. It still seems to be somewhat alive for a short time, including the section with its two eyes bulging slightly, moving only a little.

---

This dream turned out to be a warning about a frayed electrical cord I had not consciously paid much attention to the day before.

---

Morning of November 23, 2015. Monday.

Dream#: 17,871-03. 1 min 50 sec read.

I am with my family on a city bus. I have no thoughts of our destination. The bus is crowded, mostly with unknown people who are in a cheerful mood. (The first location seems to be the second floor of the Rose Street building in La Crosse, though I have not lived there since 1967.)

Eventually, the bus reaches the end of a hall, near the top step of a staircase. I first consider the steps as possibly too steep for the bus to descend safely.

However, the bus smoothly descends the staircase after slowly tipping forward. The bus driver is cheerful and competent.

Once we reach the bottom of the staircase and emerge from a doorway, the bus continues down a city street in the late morning, my dream being a little more vivid for a short time, though I am still not thinking about our destination.

---

Understanding Dream Content Causation for Clarity of Mind:

A staircase often features because of the vestibular phasing of REM sleep and may include imaginary kinesthesia. The fundamental imperative of dreaming in the last stage of sleep is to establish mind-body reconnectivity to resolve and stabilize physicality. Staircases have continually featured in my dreams because of this type of predictable cortical phasing for over 50 years.

In this dream, being on a bus is also the result of the vestibular phasing of REM sleep and also includes imaginary kinesthesia. This kind of dreaming experience has the typification of “Double Vestibular.” I might otherwise be “walking with intent” to vivify my dream while descending or ascending the staircase, or I might be slowly flying in a standing position over any missing steps as I have often done in dreams since childhood. In another, a girl drove a bus off the edge of a second-level car park. Even though I felt the kinesthetic drop, I remained in my dream as it vivified and continued for several minutes after the bus landed on the road below.

Here, my emergence is passive, and the bus represents my illusory dream body. It is self-evident. Both a bus and my body is a vehicle. In other dreams, buses fly (as I also do each sleep cycle), or I might guide a bus over a river or a narrow girder that connects two skyscrapers. I might ride a bicycle down a staircase or smoothly slide down as if my shoes served as skis.

---

How is this dream the opposite of the outcome that has occurred virtually every sleep cycle for over 50 years? My initial dream is also a result of predictable vestibular phasing and also includes imaginary kinesthesia. It is the walking, losing my footing, and quick fall (with myoclonus). The fall, often blissful, is precursory to entering deeper sleep.

---

Morning of November 19, 2015. Thursday.



Notas: Cinco libros, todo sobre una nueva versión de la película de 1962 - “Cinco semanas en globo”, con el actor Johnny Depp.

---

I am at my sister’s house yet again (on Loomis Street). This sometimes triggers apex lucidity (especially in the situations where she and Bob are leaving the house as here and appearing as if it is the 1970s), though not in this case. I become more aware and focused on the setting as my sister Marilyn and her husband are going out (possibly to a restaurant). It seems to be early in the evening (near sunset).

There is a certain level of expectancy regarding semi-lucidity (as if I am “testing” the setting though not fully aware yet that the setting is of a dream). I keep seeing a teenage version of my wife Zsuzsanna to the north, the left side of the house when looking out at the small front sidewalk perpendicular to the street. Strangely, I know who she is on some levels, though not on others. Still, we hug each other and begin to converse.

After a short time though, I lose focus (possibly due to a noise in my real environment). Eventually, there is an elderly male in the same general area. He seems argumentative. I tell him that he is not invited into the house and that I will “break his head” if he insists on following me.

Eventually, I am looking at five books on the couch, at least three of them paperbacks and each in one of at least three different Languages (English, Russian or possibly Bulgarian Cyrillic, and Spanish - though one also seems Italian - “5 settimane in pallone”). If Russian, it is ambiguous, as the first word would translate as “pet” (only if anglicized) and only “five” if Bulgarian. (Otherwise, I get a strange impression of a movie about a dog, a rooster, a cat, and a few other animals traveling around the world in a balloon as a parody to “The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly” theme - with the rooster crowing, followed by the cat’s “meow meow meow”, then the dogs barking rhythmically in the background; “WOOF, woof woof, WOOF, woof woof.)

Even so, the books are also all apparently different in the story itself (one being almost like an episode of "Gunsmoke” or perhaps more so “Wild Wild West”), even though all are a supposed novelization of a remake of “Five Weeks in a Balloon”, starring Johnny Depp. However, one (unknown?) actor on one cover looks like he is only pretending to be Johnny Depp in a copycat version of the remake. I have a very strange feeling of enjoyment in anticipation of reading all the books, even expecting completely different stories or plot developments in each. However, my dream fades before I am able to read much.

---

I sincerely doubt if Johnny Depp will be in a remake of “Five Weeks in a Balloon”. If so, you read it here first.

Morning of November 17, 2015. Tuesday.



My wife Zsuzsanna and our children and I appear to be living back on Barolin Street but it has more of a rural feel. At one point, I go outside and it seems to be early evening, during sunset. Some sort of unexpected large movement takes place to my right (though in the distance) and there is mild anticipation over something unusual about to be seen. Something soon comes into view from between a couple houses on our side of the street. It looks like a detached Ferris wheel rolling slowly across the street and away from our neighborhood. I can make out its silhouette against the dark blue sky as it rolls towards the horizon.

Later, my wife and children are outside. Curiously, there is a couch on the front lawn facing the street but at an angle towards where the rolling Ferris wheel was last seen. Zsuzsanna and our two youngest sons seem curious about what I saw and are seated there in expectation. Perhaps it will happen again.

Meanwhile, I am looking through a magazine which has various articles about guitar music and rock musicians as well as at least one article about fishing (kind of a strange mix). We will be eating fish (either lutefisk or sushi, neither of which I have ever eaten in real life), which is in a cheap plastic salad container of the overpriced kind sold in grocery stores. However, I have an additional set of at least three smaller plastic salad containers, also containing some type of fish salad, that somehow came out of the magazine. I am not sure if they are fresh, as the magazine’s date is unknown, and I remain uncertain about eating anything.

There are a few photographs related to fishing. One photograph shows a man fishing from a small boat. Somehow, the fishing line from the photograph is eventually hanging out of the magazine and gets caught up in features of other photographs and even the guitar strings in a photograph of a male rock musician performing (playing electric guitar) on stage. I pull on it a bit and try to work out what other pages or photographs it is connected to. It is in somewhat of a tangle across a few pages.

Eventually, the Ferris wheel (or a different one, as it comes from the same area and I do not recall the original event showing it rolling back to where it was), comes out in the same way as before. This time though, it stops and leans in our direction - though it is about a block away and not really threatening should it fall. It somehow transforms into a giant robot and picks up a white truck, crushing it and dropping it to the ground. I am worried about flying debris (even though it is not that close to us), so I get my family to go inside the house. Otherwise, the giant robot does not leave that area. It appears to simply be junkyard activity at this point, though the walking anthropomorphic car compactor is a rather fancy feature.

---

There is another dream event, somewhat distorted and viewed from space, where an asteroid comes down into the ocean, causing a huge tidal wave that goes around the planet and covers most of the land on every continent. There is seemingly at least one “reset” where I “make sure” it goes all the way around to cover the United States evenly (though I am aware I had been living in Australia, which is the first to be covered). There is no fear or even much concern, just an odd emotion I cannot quite describe, with a slight giddiness, though not unpleasant. This is probably some sort of waking metaphor event; for example, destroying or “covering up” the dream state.

---

Morning of November 14, 2015. Saturday.

I am not sure of the setting. There is a generic one-storey house I think, with a front porch. In this first part of my dream, I am outside on a bed and looking at the front of the house from the right of it. There are large tree branches coming out of the house from an area that had seemingly been a vent (above the porch) as well as from a couple windows. The tree probably takes up a lot of space inside the house but I do not go in. (The later room setting does not seem like a part of this house, though it is possible it is implied to be - there is no tree visible at that point though.) There is also a tree just outside the house. I get the impression of one of our cats (Franco) moving in the branches of both trees.



I am recording something important on a cassette recorder feature (while lying on my side on my bed outside the house), some sort of singing or chanting from an unknown source. The voices are feminine and possibly related to spiritual growth or empowerment. I have slight difficulty (but not that annoying as I do not become angry) with the portable stereo’s cassette player relative to the record and play buttons, which must both be pressed at the same time with the same speed and pressure. There is a “pause” button between “record” and “play”, “record” being the last in the row and it is a bit problematic (counter-intuitive) to use as such. This is not a typical cassette player design (of the few different layouts I have used in real life), yet the highly illogical nature of the layout does not trigger lucidity. I accidentally press rewind a couple times, but it does not matter as long as I eventually record the sounds, since they apparently repeat anyway (though I am not sure how long they will continue). During this time there is something about interesting magazines (relating to either science-fiction or satire or both) coming out of nowhere, possibly based on particular sound patterns. This makes me more optimistic and cheerful for whatever reason.

Later, after being with my wife for a time, my dream shifts to me seemingly being a teenager again, possibly around sixteen. I am in a room with my mother though cannot be certain of the setting’s location (as it seems only vaguely reminiscent of the southwest room in Cubitis though also vaguely reminds me of a motel room my family stayed in on our way to Florida when I was six years old and she was surprised by an unlikely tarantula on the wall). There are a few large green spiny caterpillars crawling about (mostly on the wall), a couple much longer than they would be in reality. These are supposedly the most venomous in the world and are called “Slaughterhead” caterpillars (of which I have absolutely no memory of ever having heard this term before). (In real life, it was “puss caterpillars” or wooly slugs we had to put up with - also called “saddle socks” by a few locals but that name cannot be found on the Internet and is possibly wrong as one local ridiculously called oleander caterpillars “centipedes" and warned my mother about them - my father had been stung by a puss caterpillar by accidentally putting his forearm down on one on a table in June 1978, but amazingly rode out the pain and did not want to go to the hospital.)

After a time, there is a caterpillar on me, near my shoulder. My mother bravely takes it off without being stung (as if she was used to doing this - though she did check me for ticks when we lived in Chipmunk Coulee). Later, one crawls on her and she takes it off. Another one, nearly a foot long, is crawling on her side, but my dream shifts to where my gaze is fixed on beaded curtains. (There is also a point where I study my mother’s facial profile and contemplate her being very old. I find it slightly disconcerting but not that emotional - with no memory she died in 2002).



I stare at the beaded curtain and notice that most of the beads are either the number three or the number four (each bead in the shape of the number I think, as the depth perception is fairly discernible), seemingly arranged randomly. I very clearly see each (of many) number three and number four figures (all identical in size - no distortion in any number or feature) in each long vertical beaded string of about a dozen hanging down across a part of the room (seemingly not in a doorway but as a room divider). (Although there are various styles of number beads in real life, I am vaguely puzzled over this feature.)

Morning of November 13, 2015. Friday.



An unknown male (of about thirty) works for a large company related to technological development. He does not seem competent or interested in doing his job and seems to see himself as a “victim” in his employment and tasks.

There is a scene where a young dark-haired girl, probably a young version of my wife (as her father seems to be the head of the aforementioned company) is at an auditorium to give a long speech related to some sort of award she won; something related to educational or developmental milestones. The employee cannot seem to get the loudspeaker system or the microphone to work, though is also involved in something unrelated to his job, such as playing a computer game, in addition to getting everything working. He does not seem to care about the functionality of the setup that much. The audience seems patient but eventually grows annoyed by his antics. Oddly, the employee sits in the center of one section of where the audience sits, where he is working on the electronics and sound deck. People are gossiping about him due to his incompetence and poor work ethic. He is reminiscent of the Dennis Nedry character (Wayne Knight) from “Jurassic Park”. It seems the speech is never given but he is not fired as a result.

Later, he goes into the girl’s room when she is not there. (The room is unfamiliar to me.) He opens a drawer in a small desk. He looks through her diary. He finds about five diamonds, loose in the drawer with other items such as pencils made by the company. They are synthetic but supposedly the same as (and indistinguishable from) natural diamonds. He takes a couple of them. He starts to see a conspiracy in the advanced technological development that the company is utilizing that is kept secret from the public. He may sell the diamonds and not reveal where they came from.

There is a vivid scene where I am fully in-body and making some sort of drinks. The first one I make, I am able to drink, but the second one is unusual. There are three smaller cups, though two almost bowl-like. I use something like cocoa liquor and water and some other liquids to make some sort of fantastic chocolate drink. I am looking forward to how great it will taste. I use a stirring rod to mix some of the elements in the main bowl-like container (though parts of the drink are still in the two other containers). As I am stirring, all the liquid vanishes (from all three containers) leaving a very subtle and brief pale sparkling. This annoys me greatly. My delicious drink just vanished.

The last segment involves the Dennis Nedry character. He seems angry about the secrets kept by the company. He injects an unknown liquid that was in a secret room at the company’s main building. It seems he may reveal, to the media and the public, that the company is keeping too many secrets. Eventually something splits apart from his arms and I get the impression he will disintegrate. However, it turns out he has grown wings. He seems upset at first and starts going through a second change. This time, he grows larger and becomes a huge gorilla with wings. He starts talking in a loud commanding voice how he is now superior to humans and flies away.

---

Morning of November 8, 2015. Sunday.



In the first part of my dream, I am riding in a helicopter (with an unknown male pilot) with my wife Zsuzsanna, seemingly late at night. The view is peaceful.

Later, I am in a very unusual setting that is seemingly bilocated with my Cubitis backyard (where I have not been since July of 1978), implied to be where the back part of the shed would have been, though with a very different perspective. I am mainly only aware of a singular huge monolith. There are several roads going straight up the monolith and it looks like some sort of mining operation where perhaps they are mining the top of the monolith.

Fairly heavy traffic occurs on a few sides, going both straight up and straight down, all the vehicles defying gravity.

From here, the vividness intensifies, although I now seem like an immense giant (nearly as tall as the monolith) with the cars, trucks, and utility vehicles only about half the length of a finger (by my perspective only - they are still “real” vehicles and people implied to be at a normal size other than only suggested as miniature relative to the scale of my backyard), though I can still see all the intriguing clear detail, including the beams of the headlights and such. It all looks amazing. The depth perception is also enhanced and the awareness of distance at a very large scale seems quite “realistic”.

I watch the activity and seem to float around for several minutes. In the last segment, I decide to play around with the scene (even though I am not lucid in any way). I focus on one silvery-gray pickup truck going straight up the side of the monolith and nearing the top and I mentally make it “come off the wall”, so that it then just falls backwards from off the vertical road. I anticipate a fiery explosion on the ground below as I watch it fall (about three feet away from my giant’s perspective), but that does not happen. It just hits the ground upside-down with a metallic crunch. This is disappointing but my dream starts to fade from here.

Morning of November 4, 2015. Wednesday.



I and my wife Zsuzsanna and our children are living at our present home on W Street. However, it is elevated at least to second-storey perspective in the first situation, with our wooden staircase over twice as high and oriented northward (directly from our front door) rather than offset and westward (perpendicular to our front door and at the front of our porch) as in reality. Running parallel and adjacent to our footpath, in fact the railroad tracks seemingly replacing a portion of the street, is some sort of small train station (with the train seemingly running west to east). I eventually see Barry Cowsill (September 14, 1954 – c. August 29, 2005) cheerfully approaching our house, seemingly having gotten off a train that was stopped near where the intersection is in reality. He has a beard and is wearing a hat. I have a sense of positive expectation about this encounter and get an autograph from him. I get a sense that the other Cowsills may soon arrive but not necessarily visit our home. I am not sure why he is on his own presently.

Somehow, there is soon a heavy wind blowing; some sort of “super hurricane”, so powerful as to carry large pieces of metal everywhere. I am outside and trying to dodge things like falling garage doors and large pieces of bulldozers and earthmovers as well as sections of warehouses in the region. Although it seems I may be in danger from large falling objects and windblown debris, I do not feel that threatened, though I do try to get out of the way in each case. There are a couple diggers and bulldozers on the streets near our house.

I avoid a large sheet of metal falling towards me by ducking under some sort of metal awning sticking out from a parked utility truck or van. It is a very loud metallic sound when it hits the concrete sidewalk (fictional in this case, as the area is grass in reality). A few times, I move out of the way of approaching flying debris. This almost seems like an “automatic” or natural “ability”.

Directly after this, I get into a car (which is parked facing south next to our house), into the back seat, where two unfamiliar older boys are sitting - seemingly related to some sort of emergency evacuation of the area - they do not seem like my sons. (This is atypical for me, as I often cannot fit inside cars in dreams if the situation involves getting into one, though in some cases, I am already in a car and there is usually no problem as such.) I am slightly concerned that the car may be crushed and so I get out after a short time, mentioning this to the boys and a couple unknown adults. Although this wind is incredibly powerful, it does not seem to be doing any direct damage to buildings (other than abandoned warehouses) and does not even seem to have much direct force against my movements and walking about.

Mostly, this dream was shaped by actual loud metallic noises outside our window at the time; curiously enough, a trailer they were eventually unloading small diggers from after I was awake (which I could not have consciously known, as very similar noises came from temporarily parked car carriers and other random vehicles at times in the past).

Apparently, without deliberately trying to sound harsh or judgmental, there are certain people, including certain types of “dream interpreters” who are too short-sighted to understand that some dreams are mostly only shaped (or at least altered during the dream state) by environmental noises (as here) - even though there is also the inexplicable element of somehow knowing during sleep that there was a large trailer with diggers parked outside our house (our windows and curtains were closed). The other association seemed fairly untimely and random. Barry Cowsill actually died during Hurricane Katrina in 2005 (not found until later, thus why the date of passing is not exact). (“On August 29, 2005, Hurricane Katrina hit the city of New Orleans. Cowsill, who chose not to evacuate, weathered the storm in an abandoned warehouse.”)

The first segment of my dream may be a play on “being off track” - implying that my dream is soon going to be “altered” (”disturbed”) by environmental noises, which it was. Arguments and fights amongst unknown groups of people outside our window (while we were sleeping) have also influenced, even triggered as a foundation, our dreams at times. I am sure most experienced and genuine dream journalists can easily relate to this (especially those who live in a suburban area as we do).

Morning of October 20, 2015. Tuesday.



I and my wife Zsuzsanna, and our children, must be living in the 1600s. I assume this because we are living in an unknown region where there are eventually a lot of dodo birds walking about. The building we live in seems vaguely like the Duffy Street apartment, though. My father (deceased February 14, 1979) is alive again and appearing as he was perhaps in the early 1960s. At one point, I have a wall-to-wall array of comic book stacks (they all look new), though each stack being only about six or seven issues high at the most. I eventually realize that this would make it difficult for my father to walk through the room (from a room on the other side of where I am), so I gather them all up into one higher pile, being only vaguely concerned about the numerical (issue number) order at this point.

The main concept is impersonal and relates to some sort of mountain-like structure, an isolated ridge which is much longer than its width, so much so, it seems there is a potential of it falling over at one point, and much of it contains small caves and a network of tunnels. It is apparently full of various kinds of fossils as well as living dinosaurs. There is a scene where a small duck-billed dinosaur (Hadrosaurid) comes out of a cave and bites lightly at my hand (though I do not feel threatened). There is another scene when I am watching the dodo birds where I also see a supposedly extinct animal that looks somewhat like a cross between a wombat and a guinea pig.



I inform a group of scientists (dressed as if in the early 1800s rather than 1600s) I seem to be informally working with that the mountain will likely fall over if they try to elevate it. Regardless, they somehow attempt to elevate the very large feature to possibly see the contents of underground caves. The whole feature somehow tips over once in midair and becomes upside-down before aligning back to ground level. At least one brontosaurus inside one of the many caves is seen falling over during this event. I also hear numerous pieces of bones and fossils falling about.



Later, I am standing with my wife Zsuzsanna in a large oblong hot air balloon, which is what they had earlier used in part to elevate the mountain. The oblong basket is large enough for a whole crowd of about twenty people, at least. We are at one end and the rest of the people, including scientists, are at the sides. It seems to be a beautiful night, and we are looking out over London as it was a few centuries ago.

Over time, looking at the beautiful nighttime sky, a few light clouds here and there, we notice unusual bright white lights streaming slowly downward in a few different locations. These turn out to be small meteors (which are unrealistic, as real meteors would move much faster). They sometimes even arc in a different direction before hitting the ground. With great visual clarity, I watch some of them hit various parts of the streets, leaving a large hole and cracking the ground a fair distance. There are also a few fiery explosions, which are very enjoyable to see. In the far distance, a much larger meteor seems to destroy an entire area when it hits. Eventually, there is a vague concern that a meteor may come to near where we are, but that does not seem very likely. It does not seem to be the “end of the world”, just the end of London in the distant past. Throughout much of this dream, I felt very cheerful and happy.

---

Morning of October 24, 2015. Saturday.



I am seemingly about sixteen years old again and back in Florida in my backyard in Cubitis. My mother (July 14, 1916-October 2, 2002) is in our house, in our living room. I am looking east at a rather narrow diagonal trail of black smoke that otherwise resembles the pattern of a contrail (though is touching the ground). Additionally, there is a thicker column of smoke rising up near a farmhouse, though the farmhouse itself appears to be mostly undamaged.

About three times, I try to get my mother’s attention as she is sitting near the open windows in the south area of the living room. I want her to understand that a missile came down in the distance. I drawl the word rather loudly, pronouncing it MISS-sigh-ul. Still, I am not sure of the circumstances as I do not recall seeing it hit, though I do expect another one soon, yet this does not occur at any point. I do not feel threatened or in danger; I just want to inform people of what is going on. I wait for signs of explosions in the distance.

Instead, a young male figure in black who is wearing a top hat walks from the area and eventually becomes more visible and discernible as he approaches our backyard. He is reminiscent of a young David Cassidy (but with the essence of a “dark magician”). He has a slightly menacing appearance. A narrow perfectly vertical tall column of black smoke rises from his top hat as he approaches (possibly a play on chimney pot hat or stove pipe hat).

Soon, the situation changes. I am in a mostly empty room (seemingly partly modeled after my father’s original room in Cubitis - but this is only a subtle impression) where there are two annoying male human heads attached to a long mostly horizontal stream of dark gray smoke. They seem aggressive and dominating. The faces are approaching me but I easily knock them back mentally (and with a hand motion) and “flatten” them. At one point, each is like a long series of two-dimensional cutouts of faces (somewhat caterpillar-like) that are thrown back onto the wall by my will, each expressing a slightly different visage of worried surprise.

Later, my dream becomes even more surreal. There are some sort of possibly alien beings (though they look human) attempting to control everyone in a town. However, I am able to mentally cause these threatening beings to hallucinate and perceive things in ways that cause them to fail in their intended conquest (including scampering chipmunks and menacing low-flying kites). This happens twice (possibly one is a dream “reset”). They do become aware of what I am doing but act as if they are curious about my ability rather than annoyed or angered. They leave with no success of even one attempt to conquer even one person.

Finally, a “bad” or demon-like male (though mostly of normal human appearance) is easily thrown out of an underground chamber by a slight focus of my will and “replaced” by a (unknown) dark-haired young girl with leather “letter X” patterns in her apparel (over chest, legs, and arms, somewhat shoelace-like). She is followed through the doorway to my right by small iridescent butterflies, some sort of abstract “creatures” crawling on the wall (which look like paired human fingers moving along somewhat beetle-like) and other small, bizarre, and surreal but living forms. I am aware of other benevolent entities coming to “take control” of all apparently negative realms, which then creates a youthful and pleasant energy everywhere. (More and more, I notice how dreams seem to color a person’s mood and level of energy.)

---

Morning of October 17, 2015. Saturday.



I am in an unknown room that does not have many discernible features other than perhaps a table and chair.

An unknown person is present on my left, seemingly male, but I do not look at them directly at any point. I get the impression that they may be in their late twenties.

I notice what I first take to be a couple palm tree silhouettes on the wall near a sash window. I think it may be some sort of wallpaper design or painting. Soon however, it seems to move slightly. I realize that it is the shadow of an oversized thistle or two. I consider what would happen if I blow on it, with the idea of how seeds would appear to float out from the plant.

I blow, and what I first think to be small bird silhouettes are moving to the right from out of the area where the seeds would otherwise be. Looking more closely, I see that it is an army of small black spiders that I must have disturbed. I move back out of slight wariness, but perhaps I was wrong about what I saw.

I blow again farther to the left, and it does appear that thistle seeds, or rather, their silhouettes, are moving along the wall. “Well, how about that?” I say, but some of them somehow crash into the light bulb and make it sizzle and flicker. The light bulb is hanging down from a cord just above head level and has a pull chain.

After a time, I no longer see the floating seed silhouettes or the silhouette of the plant on the wall but I do then see what seems to be an oversized thistle plant outside about ten feet away or more. There is a strange eerie feeling, almost like fear, but not fully. Something seems “off” about the whole adventure.

Of course, the light sizzling and flickering represents real-time neural activity changing slightly in the dream state. This dream was vaguely lucid, but not fully.

---

Morning of October 16, 2015. Friday.



In my dream, my wife Zsuzsanna and I are living back on Stadcor Street in Brisbane. Our family is mostly as it is now. For some reason, my wife’s younger brother George stops by and hangs around for a long time, becoming more and more annoying. Sonny is with him, but not as annoying. Zsuzsanna is also annoyed, mostly by George as well. (In real life, we have rarely seen him).

There reaches a point where I seem to have had enough of his loud imposing nature and patronization and cause the blade of a steak knife (not the handle, just the blade) to fly through the air and lodge in his left shoulder (I am not lucid). Sonny, I do not mind at all. However, they soon leave together.

From here, I go outside and have the familiar sense of being in control and making my dream at one level, though still not lucid in any way. As I watch the truck, I am also aware of a nearby cliff (although there are certainly no cliffs near the area in reality). I get the sense that he is going to turn and drive straight off the cliff and I feel a sense of pleasant expectation. My dream is very vivid at this point with realistic imagery, sound, and distance perception.

Indeed, he turns, going faster, and drives straight off the cliff on purpose, and as he does, I sense a gasping from numerous people as the truck falls to the ground below. Somehow, I am then seeing a view from ground level near the foot of the cliff, where there is a river (as if I am standing on the water’s surface). The truck is supposedly now underwater. My wife’s younger sister Judy and numerous other people immediately rush into the knee-deep water (though unrealistically, the truck cannot be seen) from being on the sidewalks above just seconds previously (typical illogical dream shift).

Judy is the closest to where the truck apparently hit and sank and it looks like she may try to find them or try to rescue them, but my dream starts to fade from here.

Looking at this dream closely, it appears to be another variation of the waking process metaphor. Oddly, one of my last waking-metaphor dreams also involved George driving around mountains near cliffs, except that we were actual passengers in that case - though we went back to find our real sleeping selves; that is, our real physical bodies before any potential of him driving off a cliff.

The river is the dreaming process (and there is also a light mist above it in this case, although misty rivers sometimes appear at the beginning of apex-lucidity dreams in addition to the pop culture association “Tomorrow Never Knows” by The Beatles) and although the water was getting lower (a sign of waking), an aspect of the dreamer (driver) could no longer be seen. The scene with the knife blade was already “cutting off” the connection of dreaming or dream communication (as I did not “have a handle” on my “imposing” unconscious state or potential lucidity - an oh-so-obvious dream play).

I am not sure why George is sometimes seemingly a facet of my non-lucid dream-self lately (not that often, just every now and then - and assuming it is not a subtle telepathic link as with my wife). One of the only other consistent “drivers” as such has been my brother-in-law Bob. This is curious in that both people have very low intelligence in real life and in the case of Bob, he cannot read (though the ability to read certainly does not denote intelligence or intellect). This may be some sort of play on the non-lucid dream-self lacking critical thinking skills or clearer awareness, perhaps even relating to failed borderline lucidity or even “hidden” lucidity. Since childhood, I have found it curious how I have often been aware of a part of me making my dream as it unfolds, and yet not being lucid in any way. This is especially curious as I have not read about other people with such experiences or particular recall and is one of many reasons why I no longer believe that the so-called subconscious exists; only various levels of mind; within and external (and beyond) - as well as Universal Mind (or non-local mind).

The final scene loosely relates to having just seen “The Red House” (from 1947) with regard to the last scene where Edward G. Robinson as Pete Morgan deliberately crashes and drives into the river under the ice house. Note also the play on “knife blade” and “shoulder blade”.

Morning of October 19, 2015. Monday.



In my dream, there is a hidden tab in my Internet browser. The hidden tab is behind another tab near the center of the sequence of tabs across the top. I wonder if there have always been hidden tabs as such. What could they be?

I barely see the left edge of the previously undiscovered tab, but there is enough there to sort of “pull” it out to the left (using the mouse) from the visible tab (which is for the dream journal website).

I see enough of the tab to see that the title is “ambiance”. It opens to an image only (rather than an implied website). It is a view from the sky, though from a distance, of a radio tower. The contrast is so light, it is fairly pale.

For some reason, I think of Godzilla as approaching (from my perspective in the foreground). I do not see Godzilla but I do ponder his eventual appearance on other pages, though this never actually happens.

---

A lot of VSTs for music production have settings related to ambient music, which is what at least partly influenced the appearance of the word.

---

This dream is autosymbolic of the typical thinking skills correlation with the radio tower being the emergent consciousness factor (as autosymbolism for communication between the isolated fictitious ephemeral dream self and the real conscious self identity as in waking life). The association with Godzilla is liminal awareness of the RAS modulation factor, but which is not initiated (likely due to my liminal awareness and my advanced knowledge of the dream state). The view from the sky is a static association with the otherwise usual vestibular system correlation. In many past dreams that were a result of liminal dream control, Godzilla had featured, typically in a faux chase scenario for entertainment purposes.

---