non-lucid

Morning of September 6, 2015. Sunday.



This is mostly an ordinary dream of a typical passive perspective. At one point, I become aware that three younger men, all around thirty perhaps, are sitting in our living room. I am not sure of what circumstances or implied back story brought this about though I do not seem annoyed as I often am in such dreams. Our house seems different, with more open space in the rooms and larger overall as well.

I do not seem to know who the males are. I first consider that they are new tenants for a nearby house. I make an absentminded comment about some people not living in any place for more than a few months. I also make a sarcastic comment about the conditions of the houses in the region. They do not seem amused and I start to think that they may be some sort of real estate appraisers. They make unrealistic comments about how nice the houses are but I do not respond.

Soon, I notice that when I look out the window, there is only a field of tall dry grass across the street from our house. I get the impression that there are not many other houses or buildings around after all, and that what I thought of as a street is actually a (fictional) back road in a somewhat isolated area. This seeing of the high golden grass through the window (instead of a large parking lot as in reality - though it was actually a large field before this) and realizing there are not many neighbors makes me feel good and makes me consider that my “complaints” were unwarranted. My flawed thinking does not trigger lucidity in any way. The men continue to talk about the nature of the houses and their value though I also get the impression that some maintenance or repair work may be done soon (not necessarily on our own house).

At one point, I look out the kitchen window and notice the neighbor’s dog running around and barking in our backyard. I mention this to my wife but I do not go out. The dog, however, is a small beagle, and I become mildly amused rather than angry at the neighbor, at its random wandering about. I go back into the living room.

After the men talk a bit more, they leave through the kitchen area, it seems, though I suddenly get suspicious and go into the kitchen myself. However, I do not see anyone but my wife Zsuzsanna and our youngest daughter. Zsuzsanna talks about getting some extra things in some sort of subscription to a craft series. (I am not sure if she just bought it at the newsagency - what they call magazine vendors here - or got it in the mail.)

My wife goes into the living room to sit on the couch and I notice the transparent rectangular plastic box she has is filled with numerous random items. At least a few of the items are old ruined CDs that are meant to be used in a craft project. There is also a general appearance of similar items; for example, a small plastic lid of some sort that is of a lesser diameter than a CD though with a large circular hole in the center as well as a couple embroidery hoops and a couple round beverage coasters. Several of the items look as if they may be pieces of old toys meant to be used in a new craft project. My wife seems happy about the special cheaper price for the first part of the subscription series. I am not sure if a particular subscription project utilizes the random items, or if they are meant to be used for the individual ideas of the subscribers.

Morning of September 4, 2015. Friday.



My senses are not very clear in this sequence. Firstly, I am playing some sort of game with an unseen character (seemingly by proxy via some sort of radio broadcast but he may also be “present” though disembodied) though the plays and outcome are quite abstract and hard to describe and follow. The playing field is illogically on an otherwise featureless area of an electronic keyboard (where the voice settings and other features would otherwise be). There is something to do with placing very short lengths of “hair” (of only about one centimeter) into a pattern that seems to have no particular form. It seems difficult and annoying. We had apparently been playing awhile because the shape that is supposedly mine is like a large circular form, but it seems the other character is winning (though I am not sure why or even what the purpose or rules are). Eventually, as I do not seem to be the winner, I pick up my game result and it is somewhat like a furball though seemingly made of drawn lines that somehow are separated from the surface that they were originally drawn on.

Later, I am on my side in a bed that is outside near an isolated intersection in a wooded area during the afternoon. I get a vague impression that there may be large dinosaurs (such as a tyrannosaurus) in the area. There is no fear or perceived threat of any kind, though. It is almost as if I am aware I can create any creature I want and have it run around by the intersection and along the perimeter of the forest. I absentmindedly choose not to focus more clearly to do this, though. Instead I am playing around with an electronic drum kit that also is like a digital sampler to capture at least an octave range of a particular sample.

I press something (some sort of small rectangular button) and sample the ambiance of the area, which is barely audible. I try to play a melody on the pads, but the sample is not loud enough to hear. I try again and get some ambiance that is slightly louder, but mostly only wind through the trees, my breathing, and a distant (unknown) animal sound. From here, I am able to play a random melody with a rather odd sound (almost like a person saying “huh?”), though which eventually sounds more and more like an electric guitar. I remember that sound can be recorded from anywhere and turned into anything else.

Morning of September 2, 2015. Wednesday.



I am a semi-active part of an unlikely scenario. It seems to be a group of soldiers that are attempting to rescue at least one hostage from a foreign military group in a forest. It does not seem to be related to a war, just an isolated incident, perhaps.

The events are not that defined, but the enemy is on the other side of a linear cluster of trees. At one point, an M60 seems to be held by an enemy just past a couple of trees. This potential threat seems unrealistically delayed, as there is no drama or action as far as I recall.

Somehow, it seems to be agreed that the leader of the hostile group will meet the others in a clearing near a jeep. Several minutes pass and I see the supposed leader coming out of the trees. He is apparently not carrying any weapon. His slightly oversized clothes (perhaps as if from starvation, as he looks fairly thin though not muscular as would be expected for a soldier) are torn and his body is somewhat muddy.

A young girl appears out of nowhere and seems to be some sort of unlikely leader of some kind - it does not make that much sense considering the region supposedly being fraught with danger. The man holds out his hands and holds the girl’s hands in a gesture of recognition and respect as well as hope. It looks as if he can barely stand up straight. This is an unusual and unexpected outcome because the leader of the hostile group turns out to have been the one supposedly being held hostage and he is seemingly very thankful to be out of his position of leadership of the militant group. No drama ensues after this even though there may be enemy soldiers in the woods beyond wondering what is going on.

Morning of September 1, 2015. Tuesday.



I seem to be focused on Loomis Street yet again. However, there are also emotions and realizations associated with our present bedroom on W Street (though it does not quite seem like a typical composite, and yet the setting is limited to the one room, though).

My attention is mostly on an unusual “clock”. It does not apparently serve as a clock though, but some sort of answering machine (though I do not recall having this type of concept appearing in any previous dream).

Only the hour hand is implemented but it does not serve as time-keeping in any way. There is seemingly no minute hand or second hand and the number six, in its proper location, is the only number on the face of the clock.

I move the hour hand to the left (from where it was near the number six), to around where the number eight would be expected to be, and start to hear pleasant music. As I put it in different positions, I hear a lot of very nice music, a lot of it tribal, but with no voices at any point. The audio is very clear (though I do not become lucid).

After spending seemingly at least fifteen minutes listening to very nice music (which apparently is related to being connected to our telephone and plays when we are not home to answer it), I move the hour hand over to the right around where the number four would be expected to be. From around where the number two would be expected to be to that location, there are recordings of my wife or me telling the caller to leave a message, and some of the messages are meant to be in-jokes. I listen to these recordings for a short time (much shorter than when I was enjoying the music) and my dream fades.

Morning of September 1, 2015. Tuesday.



My wife and children and I are living on Loomis Street, it seems (though my wife and children have never been to America). At least that is where my entire dream takes place; in the front part of the house. However, the house is mirrored from north to south - the first distortion of the Loomis Street house in this particular way that I remember. It does not trigger any degree of lucidity that the house is mirrored from my right to my left as such. My family seems to at least partly be living in the first small bedroom.

My sister Marilyn makes an appearance as she was perhaps in the early 1970s (before I even moved back to Wisconsin). She seems healthy and happy. She goes to open her bedroom door and the door mostly falls off the hinges but is still partly attached at the top. She is annoyed and mentions something about how she wanted to listen to Neil Diamond with her door closed (apparently so as not to bother others, including her sickly husband). (This is odd, as she had never listened to Neil Diamond in real life regardless of her huge record, reel to reel, and cassette tape collection.)

I go over and make the offer to fix it, but her husband Bob suddenly shows up as if having just arrived (possibly dropped off by his relatives or perhaps my sister Carol - this is not certain). He insists that he can do it. He looks very ill and begins at the top of the door frame. The hinges are not as they would be in reality. Each of the two hinges in the door frame (the ones that came loose) is held by two silver sets of nuts and bolts, the bolts facing outward from the door frame. He begins to work on the top nut by tightening it with his hands. The other nut below that is there but very loose. The other two nuts (for the bottom hinge) are somehow somewhere in that bedroom on the other side of the door (which is not logical, as the nuts would have rolled into the living room relating to how the door mostly came off, not the other direction). Just as he is tightening the top nut, he drops his left arm (the hinges are on the left side of the door from the living room perspective). He then seems to go into some sort of pseudo-ritualistic trance. I notice that there are dark reddish circles around his eyes and he is wearing no shirt. (He is just in his underwear.) He had arrived in only his underwear and had apparently been in the hospital for a week or more.

He just stands there looking very ill. He starts chanting “Have a headache…don’t care…have a headache…don’t care…” (which seems to mean he does not care about anything in life, even continuing to fix the hinges). I get the strong impression that he is very close to death. I decide that I will manually tighten the other nuts myself, but just as I contemplate tightening the bottom nut of the top hinge, my dream fades.

Zsuzsanna woke with a slight headache and a bit of nausea so it is possible our empathetic link projected into a different dream character (as this has happened before) - even though her character in my dream seemed healthy and happy. In fact, this metaphor (a door not being on all the hinges) does seem to have something to do with empathetic links that need to be strengthened for the health or vitality of both (including at different levels of thought). A door itself is a point between two rooms and often takes a dreamer into different levels of consciousness or awareness.

Precognition unveils. Right after my wife had the television on (and just as I was ready to post this), the first thing she hears is “Neil Diamond…(pause)…No, it wasn’t Neil Diamond”. My wife just smiled at me and said “You’re funny”. Of course, this is a natural event via the Source, like digesting food, not an active “ability” for the most part (at least in this particular case).

Morning of August 29, 2015. Saturday.



The above image is solely representative of a dream and is not meant to imply or reflect any aspect or opinion of a real location.

There is a rural church that comes to mind. It seems I had actually gone there for a time until I realized it was futile (this faux history is only in my dream). I am not sure where it is, though I get an impression it may be in one of the New England states in America. This is a brand new concept that was unveiled to me in my dream’s otherwise meandering forms. Even after waking, I feel as if I have a subtle piece of someone else’s memory somehow, though this is not logical at all because I doubt there was such a church that became like this one.

The church used to have a cross on the front above the entrance. This cross has since transformed into a trident over time, perhaps a year or two. I am astounded by this concept and altered imagery, as it had never crossed my mind at any point before in my life, or perhaps it is because I had not given much thought to the cross in the first place (and I had never been to any church in my life other than for a couple funerals). The only real difference between the cross and the trident is the extended and raised arms - otherwise they are nearly the same. As such, one might think it to be a symbol for praise (to the sky above) or even ascension. Instead, on one level, it is damaging, perhaps; the pitchfork. There can be a fork in a road and there can also be crossroads.How can something “speak” so intimately for the first time? Has it “spoken” before?

This dream left me with a very odd “new” feeling and it certainly can be said that hardly any dreams do that for me these days, at least not in this particular unique way - as if it was “not me” in even the slightest way (related to the idea or faux memory), since it seemed completely “outside” of myself for whatever reason, almost as if I was looking into the mind of another for the first time (though I do not know whom).

Any personal associations likely arose from “Percy Jackson: Sea of Monsters” (in which the trident is associated with the hero) - seen just previously - and the aforementioned absentminded confusion between “fork in the road” and “crossroads”. My dream self can be identified with Percy Jackson and forming a stronghold of differentiated and more intimate and viable spirituality; perhaps a “new house” to explore without the prior scorn of the general populace.

Morning of August 26, 2015. Wednesday.



Dreaming of walking on the surface of the ocean (or in some cases a lake or river), in both lucid and non-lucid dream segments, was more common when I was much younger.

In the first part of this dream, my family and I (as we are now) seem to be living in a large apartment building. It seems to be a very old building which has not been maintained by the owner and is seemingly in a larger city (possibly in America though this is not certain). There are a few other tenants but not any I recognize to any extent, other than getting an impression that Leonard S lives there, perhaps across the hall. I eventually falsely “remember” that we are also renting a small house somewhere in a less urban area (reason unknown - it may relate to either place being randomly problematic at certain times). There is a vague concern about having enough money to keep renting both places (in real life we have only done that in the process of moving and perhaps that is implied in my dream, though the back story is vague).

I am walking through the long hallway at one point and keep noticing, here and there, old hair ties of various darker and lighter colors; some thicker, some thinner and in various stages of wear; that had been dropped. (My hair is presently short so I do not use them for a ponytail, though my hair has usually been very long throughout my life.) The hallway also has a lot of dust and looks like it has not been swept for a long time. I decide to pick up some of the hair ties and also think about sweeping the area as there are also small bits of paper and other debris. When I am in the apartment though, I hear someone else sweeping and get the impression of an older lady starting to maintain some of her building for the first time in years for whatever reason. I also get the impression of dust somehow coming through the mopboard (skirting) area into our apartment though this does not concern me, especially as I vaguely realize that it would not be possible (ironic since I am flying after this).

Later on, I start flying around over various buildings with no particular destination in mind at first. Eventually, I come to the ocean. A huge creature that looks like an orca whale though much bigger emerges vertically from the water and remains upright and mostly unmoving (and is no threat). It does not seem to have any eyes or other features, only the smooth cylindrical body (slightly too long for a real whale). I cannot decide what it is. I still fly around in the area. I eventually walk around on the water near a large dock that borders a building. (I get a vague idea that I created the “unfinished” creature as well as bringing up small islands in the distance beyond, but these vague impressions are not reconciled, including with a subtle secondary unseen presence I am not sure about though I seem to be communicating with “her” somehow as I am flying around - though “she” seems to be everywhere and much larger than me somehow.)

In the last segment of my dream, I remember that many of my relatives have died, including Carol and Marilyn. However, I find myself with an unopened thick small plain envelope that was apparently sent to us by Marilyn just prior to her death. It dawns on me that (due to its atypical thickness for an otherwise ordinary letter) it may contain money, though that is not what I notice when I open it. I take out a large Japanese fan (that is then too large to have fit in the envelope though I do not consider this distortion) that is mostly white. At one point I get an impression that I can talk to her but only because time is quite distorted (and I am not sure where I am in time). It seems extraordinarily odd that people can cease to exist. It does not seem to make any sense of how this is possible, though vaguely, I am also aware of time being in “layers” where people still exist in certain layers and scenarios and I am trying to remember what “time layer” I am in and whether or not I can talk to or visit certain people.

Morning of August 25, 2015. Tuesday.



In my dream (with no implied back story or prior memory of any other event or situation) I find myself absentmindedly looking at an array of thumbnails on my computer monitor, too small to see much detail other than various images of a mysterious figure in black and what may be a closeup of a face in solely one image of the set. It looks like it may be a set of photographs of a young dark-haired Moroccan girl in a mostly featureless room, though it may also be a young version of my wife Zsuzsanna. My thoughts are not that defined and I remain puzzled over the display. The images seem slightly larger at one point, though not based on any technical adjustment on my part (though possibly by automatic magnification, based on purely mental “zooming in” of the dream self’s perspective, this being a fairly common event in my dreams). She is wearing black clothes, including black silky palazzo pants and a kaftan top from what can be seen in the thumbnails, and it looks like there may be a black veil in some images.

When I bring up one image in the top row, I see a young female’s face and it looks rather distorted though still human for the most part. An outline of very small jewels completely encircles her eyes, mouth, and nose area. They look like they may have been deeply embedded into her skin. This puzzles me and for a moment I almost think it is her actual face and that the “jewels” are organic, though I eventually accept that they may be tiny rhinestones. I have no idea who it is at this point. At one time the girl may have been pretty, but now she looks almost inhuman (or “alien” in a cinematic sense) and very odd. My dream fades after this, after seeing only the one larger image with some sort of vague wariness regarding what sort of “creature” she may be (though likely still human for the most part, yet unique in that I get the impression no one else has gone to this extreme in facial alteration, which may be related to some sort of extreme cultural or religious purpose).

Morning of August 25, 2015. Tuesday.



Notes:

It always gives me an extraordinary sense of fulfillment when I get a continuous flow of insight and am able to more fully decode certain patterns in dreams over a lifetime since earliest memory. I am very grateful for the technology that has allowed me to do this; that is, type faster and with continuous editing potential (rather than writing and correcting and rewriting and correcting when I was little), put documents all together in one place, and have a listing and potential day to day timeline of my lifetime from around age four (with sparse family references and records since my birth date in 1960) as well as having access to resources that are able to validate and enhance so many of my earlier records. Not only will I be able to, in about ten years (only an optimistic estimate of course), bring all of my dream records and notes together as I want them, I will also have the ability to do extensive searches with a fair amount of precision. This dream, as odd and unlikely as it seems (even to me at first - I did not expect the flashes of realization when working with it), gave me the required focus somehow to unravel a small and isolated set of dream metaphors and associations going back to 1968 as well as relating to the path to my beautiful soulmate. There are too many layers to get into in this entry (and one would have to understand hundreds of summarized pages of my personal back story to “get” any of it anyway). I can only loosely touch upon some of it. Obviously, there are still limitations to my personal symbols and metaphors being fully decoded. This is mainly because some symbolic associations are rather sparse and fairly rare even at my present age. Still, I feel very happy today with another new breakthrough.

Sewing Machine Bulldozer:

I am mournfully back as I was when I was in my twenties and working for the Onalaska Street Department (not that I was sad at that time - it is just that something seems to be “missing” somehow in-dream). My job at this time was picking up large pieces of eroded embankment (on a fairly difficult inclination) and placing them on the roadside - placing them directly in front of the bulldozer. This was very difficult work and not many could do it for very long. Over time, I begin to be annoyed and tired over why I am even doing this. (It does not dawn on me that I am no longer this age, and do not even live in America anymore.) I am concerned about the speed of the other workers. The bulldozer even bumps me a few times, though not in any harmful way. I grow impatient and realize that I may have missed pieces a far distance back and think that the stretch will have to be worked over again. I do some of the work incorrectly, that is, I bend over to pick up a heavy piece instead of squatting and flinging back. Any sense of weariness of course, is an illusion in-dream. I start to ask myself what I am doing here. Is this where I am supposed to be?

I absentmindedly turn about and put my foot against the blade of the bulldozer. This results in a very strange event. The blade and push frame begin to wobble and very small “plates” fall off the front (reminding me vaguely of “Bathtub with Grill” from June 26, 2015). The exhaust pipe stack begins to move up and down like a “giant” sewing machine needle. It is almost like the tension building up in a cartoon (but not cartoon-like in any way). When I look down, I see that the bulldozer’s blade has actually transformed into an oversized antique sewing machine’s treadle (with floral scroll design), though at an angle and somewhat elevated. My leg is automatically working it to create (and actually sew together, apparently) some sort of clothing within the bulldozer’s cab. It is some sort of gossamer white lacy material flowing out from the side. Around this time there is a very strange mechanical sound behind me and when I dare look, it is a downward rolling “wave” suggesting a ghostly staircase. Soon, it is a luminescent staircase (recurring feature mostly from early 1991 to early 1994). My wife (as she was when we first made contact) in a glowing wedding dress and some sort of oversized tiara (somewhat like a crown) is standing there with a bouquet of flowers. I can see a blue layer of light just under her skin. “I’m not going to be late, am I?” I ask. “I never intended to be la…” (My dream is swept away.)

Connections:

Bulldozer history: I have found some links I did not really fully put together before. “The Dead One” dream (February 13, 1971, age ten - that is, first version of it) had a bulldozer run over Brenda W when I was taking flowers to her late at night on the eve of Valentine’s Day (so that only her hand is seen emerged from the soil and I feel a terrible sense of loss), yet she was resurrected (not in a zombie sense) near the end of my dream, yet “I could not yet have her”. (There were several dreams where she was resurrected, none of them relevant to any zombie lore - more in a divine “ascension” sense.) Brenda was the fully confirmed “stand-in” for my wife-to-be and also appeared in composite forms (such as “The Bad Witch” from March 18, 1978, which had a recurrence on March 23rd - the same date I got my first letter from my wife-to-be in 1991). Other layers - my sister died on February 13th (though the 14th from my perspective at one point in Australia as we are about a day ahead) and my father also died on the 14th of February. I have often associated the bulldozer with mortality and loss as such. Thus, there is very odd synchronicity with only a 1 in 365 chance it would be relevant as such - though it is - and all through my life extremely unlikely synchronicity continued with almost every event and association.

The origins of this (that is, the very seed) may or may not be related to the tree I used to spend time near at primary school. One of my friends used to take palmetto sticks and push sand off the concrete bench, chanting “bulldozer bulldozer”. This was the “same” bench that Brenda was seated in most versions of “Bridge Over a Prehistoric World” (though she also appeared in distorted composites associated with the “dream girl” or “mystery girl” as I preferred).

At any rate, from here, I made somewhat of a breakthrough in one very early version of the “divine staircase”. However, the features are quite different. It turns out to be my “Rocket Science” dream from July 2, 1976. This is not the first version of the implied “soulmate staircase” by any stretch. One of the oldest appears in “The Ghost Marriage” dream from October 16, 1971. I am linking only to the “Rocket Science” dream because of a few odd parallels. Firstly, the white sheet of paper that makes the “staircase” is like a miniature implication of the one in this latest dream (which I never even began to note before for whatever absentminded reason) as well as the commonly recurring ones as already mentioned above. It moved exactly the same way; that is, like a diagonal wave that suggested a complete “pure” or “divine” staircase (phantom or not).

Aside from that, there is also the shared “whirligig” element and the strange “impossible” technology, the “whirligig” obviously being a Merkaba form, but I am not sure what the sewing machine needle and fictional helicopter rotary design “pumping” relates to (well, on a spiritual level that is - some sort of spiritual “motor” or cosmic mechanism perhaps). As most of this had already come about in 1994, it is more like a decoding breakthrough than anything relevant to what may come.

Morning of August 22, 2015. Saturday.



In the first part of my dream, there is a backstory being reviewed with some clarity (though seemingly in a different level of unconsciousness than the rest of my dream). It is an event related to when someone supposedly photographed a shark in a highly unlikely area in a lake, though it is not clear that it is at a lake at first. It seems that at least some people think it was taken in the ocean. The “shark” is shown near some people including two children (male and female), some of them in the foreground and making it hard to identify the animal as a shark. It seems unusual that people would be so close to a shark for the sake of resulting in such a photograph in which it could not be fully identified anyway (as the picture does seem staged). There is only the one photograph.

Eventually, it is revealed that the fish is not a shark but a muskellunge. Somehow, this large fish ends up in our bathtub, where my family and I keep it for a time. It is seemingly at Barolin Street (where we have not lived in years), though the bathroom is a bit different. The big long fish fills much of bathtub, which remains half-full with water until the scene changes later.

Time seems to pass, perhaps a few days. I go in to look at the fish and it is no longer moving. It is much thinner than it was, possibly even dead. It looks somewhat transparent, and the bathtub is now only about a quarter full. I go and get a large bucket of fresh water and pour it in. Eventually, the fish starts moving again.

Later, when I look again, the fish has transformed into an unclothed dark-haired male (of about twenty) of an almost divine essence, though also much like a younger version of me. He gets up, though remains standing in the bathtub. He talks to Zsuzsanna and I for a short time, but I do not recall his words. I do recall asking him how he can understand the human language (and I do use “human language” instead of “English”). I ask him this very close to his ear. He seems cheerful and healthy. From here, my dream fades.

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The muskellunge is a symbol of Wisconsin, where I lived from mid-1978 to the first part of 1994 (as well as when I was very young, from 1963 until 1967). The fish is this dream’s emergent consciousness factor, additionally validated by the fact that it becomes a younger version of me. As I had sustained and vivified my dream deliberately (though subliminally) with water reinduction, this makes my emergent consciousness less like my current conscious self for a time.

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There may also be an association with “The Incredible Mr. Limpet”, a 1964 Don Knotts movie I saw several times in my youth and enjoyed very much, though that in fact involved the opposite plot; a man transforming into a fish.

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Morning of August 22, 2015. Saturday.



Yet again, I am back in my childhood home in Cubitis. The setting, though, is more near the entrance into the kitchen, though still in the living room area. For whatever reason, there is a character present who seems to be a version of actor Anthony Hopkins, who starred in the first movie my wife Zsuzsanna and I ever saw together in a theater before we we married (“Shadowlands”, about C.S. Lewis). He remains mostly standing near the entrance to the hallway and talking to me about how good an artist I am and the aspects of what I am working on at the time. This does not trigger lucidity in any way.

I am seated at a table, making some sort of large drawing with just a few felt pens, yet still get the impression it is related to a painting - or maybe it will become a painting eventually. I make a statement a bit later of how I wish I had more of a variety of colors to work with.

The more the actor comments positively on my work, the more I seem to absentmindedly start adding random lines and what may eventually eliminate the original image. The image seems to be an ambiguous scene, seemingly as seen from a window, but with both winter (as there is seemingly sparse snow) and summer features. There is a bird (unknown species) near the upper middle of the image as well as trees and a sunrise or sunset. Its wings are out as if in flight, though I think it may also be on a branch at one point, as the image changes over time.

There is an unusual nature to my work at one point. I try to focus on it and even “explain” it to the actor (and my wife who is present) before I wake. The concept makes no sense at all, though. It is something like including an additional layer over the image as someone else has also painted or drawn the same scene (elsewhere) but slightly smaller, or something like me making the picture as if someone else were drawing it as a “reflection” into my drawing. (It is hard to explain, as it does not make much clearer sense in my dream, either, though I suppose it could also be related as my image being on an easel within the actual scene but the easel being transparent and showing the scene more realistically through the outline of my less-formed artistic version.)

Although my image was seemingly very well-done in the first part of my dream, I am adding lines (wider apart) over previous lines, removing the more defined nature of the image, supposedly superimposing the art of someone different over my own version. I am starting to think that Anthony will become annoyed with what I am doing (in “ruining” my original work), but he has not commented at this later point.

All in all, this may simply be yet another metaphor for the waking process; that is, my dream becoming less-defined as I am waking even though my dream-self is attempting to clarify or change the dream’s energies somehow. During my work in the mid-1980s, I found that many dreams can be seen in this manner, especially flying dreams, which represent the state of dreaming itself.

Morning of August 22, 2015. Saturday.



It seems I am returning to, I think, fourth grade, though the school is actually the one I only went to the first part of first grade to in reality (before moving to Florida). I am more like a miniature version of my adult self instead of seeing from a child’s perspective.

For whatever reason, a faux “child version” of actor Billy Burke (as he appears on the television series “Zoo”, one of the only shows we watch presently) is also going to school (complete with glasses and a five o'clock shadow). He walks on my left side and I talk with him about what to expect as we head towards the main entrance. In a way, this seems odd due to the fact that I had supposedly gone to this same grade several times before (which is not like any aspect of reality - in fact, they always wanted to put me two grades higher in the earlier grades - though I refused their advice). It is also a slight association with apparently having been the same age before.

As we go into the school, I realize that the school had recently been in some sort of bad weather that destroyed many of the records. In fact, the floors of the halls are still wet, with a few puddles here and there. I see random sheets of notebook paper and partly opened damaged backpacks here and there, the notebook pages of homework and schoolwork ruined by the water. I do not know quite what to think as it seems school will not be held this day even though a lot of students are arriving.

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Only on one level do I associate a real life event from 1966 with this scene. I had gone to the school grounds on what was apparently a day off (my mother not being aware of this for whatever reason) and on my way into the building, I accidentally splashed into a puddle that was deeper than I first thought. Once I got into the building, two teenage boys took me into the principal’s office and went on and on about it being the worst thing I had probably ever done (one boy actually sitting on the principal’s desk, the other in the chair) and how much trouble I would be in for “tracking water into the school” and misbehaving. It was only later that I began to realize that this event did not really make any sense. I was only five at the time and for whatever reason, thought these boys might actually be part of the legitimate school system, perhaps the sons of the principal or one of the teachers. I never reported this incident and simply walked around in the building before going home later, and never understood why the building would be open if it was an actual holiday. It is possible that “Billy” is a play on “bully” here, though I cannot be certain.

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The only other embarrassing event from this time period was dropping all my math flashcards all over the intersection near Rose Street and I absentmindedly ran around picking them all up (including in front of moving cars) while the crossing guard stopped all the cars for a few minutes, me chasing after some of them as the wind blew them around. I actually kept these cards until just after I moved back to Wisconsin, a few of the cards still having tire marks on them.

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Morning of August 16, 2015. Sunday.



Rewritten for clarification and supplemented Friday, 25 August 2017.

In the first part of my dream, I read at least halfway through a paperback crime novel (possibly by Erle Stanley Gardner, though this is not certain). I retain much of what I read for a few minutes after each page, enough to get a general idea of what the story is about, but I eventually forget most of it. It concerns a jewel thief who escapes by traveling by jumbo jet to another country while meeting a female on the airplane. He becomes interested in her and sees her again later on. She is a secretary that eventually goes to work for him.

My reading of the paperback crime novel expands into an amateur play aboard the airplane. I find at least two people (unknown and unfamiliar) who I decide to act out the story with as our airplane takes off and flies to wherever we are going.

One of these other passengers, who mostly stands to my left as I am seated on the right side of the airplane about the fourth seat back, is a young female who becomes wary about doing this as if perhaps she thinks that movies or plays made from novels are filmed or performed exactly as they are. For example, if an actor plays someone who is killed, the actor will actually be killed at that point. This seems to be an extraordinarily ignorant belief, yet in my dream, it seems typical of ordinary people to hold such beliefs. She eventually comments on the persona of the jewel thief in the story and decides to free herself of this little fictional drama and return to her own seat, no longer being interested. I am somewhat annoyed that the play was not completed, but my thoughts shift to other things.

There is an idea that I need to make a beanie. The beanie will have a blue and white mandala design spreading over the center from the top down somewhat like a simplified spiderweb design. Another (unknown) female complains about me wanting to create the beanie (which I plan on finishing on the airplane before we land) from scratch and asks me why I do not just buy one. (In some ways, this is like saying to someone who wants to learn to play guitar to go out and buy a music CD or someone who wants to build a house to just look at pictures of houses.) At any rate, I explain to her how the design and creation has to be mine (similar to a real life event when I made a headband, as it had to be a design taken directly from my dream). I start working on my beanie, but I do not complete it before I wake.

Meanwhile, I am given an on-flight meal which ends up leaving a horrid sweet taste in my mouth after waking. It is some sort of serving-tray-sized clump of thicker reddish jelly or conserves that is not fresh and is shaped somewhat like a land form relating to the Colorado Plateau. I do not want to eat it, but there is nothing else to eat so I eat most of it. I wake before the airplane lands.

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Time to explain the meaning of this dream, yes? I am certainly not talking about “interpretation” but about inherent meaning and why this dream is as it is.

Firstly, I am on an airplane. This usually has nothing to do with waking life (unless prescient or based on literal dynamics from recent experiences) but is an obvious dream state indicator. This is primarily based on the floating sensation of entering sleep and the residual memory of such. (How difficult could it be for a person of average intelligence to immediately realize this?) Over twenty percent of my dreams have more obvious flight symbols. This includes tens of thousands of dreams over a fifty-year time period. As a result, can you imagine what I think when I read about “dream interpretation” as the term is often used? (To be honest, I do not think you could.)

Then there is the paperback crime novel. Since being unconscious in the dream state is a “puzzling” state of awareness, the rendering becomes actualized in this case as a mystery novel and is even expanded into my dream’s environment as such (and how often would such an event occur in real life even symbolically?).

Why am I making a beanie in this particular dream? I am trying to implement a connection to my outer (conscious self’s) awareness in real time (and completeness in consciousness regarding what a mandala represents). There is non-lucid dream control. A part of me knows I am dreaming (as is most often the case) yet the lucidity is not viable or held within my dream self’s inherently fictional memory. Making this cap is similar to other dreams involving my dream self attempting to initiate waking (and this is also why there is no dominant preconscious personification or other preconscious factor). The unknown female complaining about me wanting to make the beanie is possibly a distorted perception of me believing (or actually perceiving within the same level of consciousness as her as we are sleeping) that my wife does not yet want to wake. This is certainly not meant to sound negative. No one else could even come close to her beauty or compatibility with me.

The weird dessert at the end of my dream likely relates to a few factors. (Red desserts have appeared in other dreams since childhood.) It may relate to having low blood sugar after a long sleep. It may be a rendering of the subliminal awareness of an odd taste in my mouth. Red dominating a dream typically means I have been sleeping a bit too long (or sleeping too long in one position). The association with a Colorado plateau may also indicate partial dehydration (and the need to rehydrate after waking, which is very important).

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See how this dream is based on the real-time dynamics of sleeping, dreaming, and waking rather than having feasible conscious self relevance as main factors in this case? A person of reasonable intelligence should be able to grasp this with no difficulty. Even so, most of my dreams have threads of literal prescience, which could not be discerned by “interpretation” either. Thank you for reading and understanding.

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Morning of August 15, 2015. Saturday.



My dream’s location seems like the house on Loomis Street regarding the area I sense I am in, though everything is different otherwise and it is not even much like a house; more like a partly underground setting in a zoo, at least in one area, though I seem to be living here. The entire back and north side of the “house” is open, though high walls are at least two sides at the northwest corner. The front is enclosed and there is a row of jalousie windows. (There were no jalousie windows in the Loomis Street house or in any of the houses in La Crosse I had been in).

I become aware that a large tiger is in the front yard. At first, I decide to close the windows due to a slight concern about the tiger smelling me. I do not think it can get in but it might surprise me if I have my head close to the window at a later point. Over time, I realize that there is also a lion in the backyard, though the wall may be high enough so that he does not get into the enclosure I am in.

Later, I realize that these two large animals are supposed to be in the area and that they are like guard dogs in a way. Each has his own space to guard and survey and to stop intruders from getting into “my” house. Somehow, the tiger eventually gets in to where I am. I am not sure how that happened since there is no direct way in via the front. It certainly could not have gotten through the narrow jalousie window’s glass slats at any point. No door had been open, and I do not think it came over the walls in the back and north side. Still, I realize that there is nothing to be worried about. The tiger will not eat me or attack and is simply looking around. I watch it for a time and eventually pet it like a cat. It seems content.

Eventually, I am aware that the lion in the backyard can get in to where I am. This only concerns me in a way that I know it will probably fight with the tiger. I can see the tiger sniffing the air and I look back and see the lion on the top of the wall. I ask a couple unfamiliar people who are there to keep the lion from getting in. However, it eventually goes around to the north wall and I sense there may be a fight, though this does not happen. The lion stands on the wall while observing the tiger and they both continue to sniff the air, but I wake before anything happens. The lion could easily jump down into the structure that the tiger and I are in. I believe the lion will not attack me, but I do not want to see the animals attack each other. My dream fades with a soft awakening (that is, no discernible physical RAS effect such as a leg kick or abdominal twitch).

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The reticular activating system (RAS) is curiously sustained and duplicated here due to an atypically vivid subliminally lucid sequence. Tigers and lions are RAS factors just as snakes (in certain vivid non-lucid dreams) and dogs (in certain apex lucidity dreams mainly only in childhood) are and serve the same purpose with the same basic meaning (though I associate a lion more with waking coalescence as it can swallow the dream self into the “lion as emergent consciousness” as with 1897’s “The Sleeping Gypsy” painting). RAS also serves, biologically, as a “guardian” while mediating sleep-wake transitions, which was in the back of my mind in my dream and the understanding of which altered my dream’s mood and dynamics, for example, why my non-lucid dream self was not afraid of the big cats. Obviously, RAS is a normal part of the mind and nothing to fear (except perhaps in people who tend to faint a lot). Learning about RAS at a very early age is partly how my mind developed differently than many my age and why I rarely have nightmares (other than as health warnings, for example, at the threshold of getting the flu).

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Morning of August 15, 2015. Saturday.



Once again, I seem to be a teenager. (Note: I first absentmindedly wrote “teenanger” in my notes instead of “teenager”).

In my dream, I am once again in Cubitis, though there is not much furniture in my room. I am much as I am now (mentally and emotionally), including having a computer desk (along the southeast corner and facing south in this case). I do not question this perhaps because I did experiments with electronics in the 1970s (building mostly useless novelties and haphazard hybrid decks) thanks to my father buying lots of junk at flea markets, including cassette players, speakers, amplifiers, and old radios on a weekly basis.

I am not sure of the time (it could be either morning or evening, though I am often aware of the general time in the majority of my dreams). I eventually notice the sheer curtains to my right over the west wall (mostly made up of large jalousie windows) billowing out for a few minutes. Eventually, in my mind is the idea that my (deceased) older sister Marilyn will appear as a spirit. Something seems to “move” in my mind and she appears as she did in perhaps 1978, but remains behind the nearly transparent curtains for a time as if the movement of the curtains in the slight breeze had something to do with forming her or her essence. It is very vivid. She comes out from behind the curtains and I talk with her for a short time and even touch her shoulder and she seems happy. (“Curtains” is a possible reference to having died in this case.)

Eventually, she walks out of my room into the living room. From here, though, the setting seems to be the southeast area of the living room on Loomis Street. My brother-in-law (her husband) is sitting on the right side of their couch near the window. An unknown female in her late forties is standing near him (who may be a nurse or friend) to his right (though she is facing west to my implied room in Cubitis and he is facing north towards the room I stayed in when first moving there from Florida).

My sister turns to the left and walks away, seemingly towards a fictional hallway. Another version of my sister is, at this point, talking to her husband. She looks mostly the same as the other supposed spirit.

I get an impression that the spirits of deceased people somehow divide into different versions of themselves to visit or comfort particular individuals at or around the same time. This seems “wrong” somehow, but I cannot quite resolve it. My dream eventually fades as I watch my “other” sister standing and talking with her husband.

This is certainly not the first time I have dreamt of more than one copy of the same person. It happens regarding my wife Zsuzsanna, and she sometimes dreams of more than one of me as well. I also once had a dream of two different versions of my father (May 1975) when he was still alive. Pets sometimes duplicate as well. This dream seems to be different, though, as I am far more aware of the implications than usual. It possibly translates to how people project themselves differently to different people. Note that I have five half-sisters total (and six half-brothers), but grew up mostly on my own, as they were all older.