non-lucid

Morning of August 11, 2015. Tuesday.



James Miller comes to my attention; weary and barely there and dressed as Will Robinson, he seems to want to ask me something. Perhaps about ten feet away or more in a half-rendered version of my computer room (though seemingly mirrored longways right to left), he mainly appears as he did in perhaps 1975 (rather than 1977). I feel that he wants to ask me the time. However, pitifully, he cannot even communicate or relate coherently, which I suspect is frustrating him. Instead of asking “Time?” it comes out (quite weakly) something like “Sah-hime?” I suspect that anything he ever manages to say will only sound a little like English, though mostly gibberish.

Manny C comes in as the robot from “Lost in Space” (though somewhat different in design). She is thinner, though; the upper and lower sections of her robot body slowly pumping up and down (synchronized to her forward movement), arms randomly moving about, though head perfectly rotating ninety degrees to left and right.

She pulls James out of the half-rendered setting, back into the red-toned darkness.

Like a robot vacuum cleaner. I suppose.

Morning of August 10, 2015. Monday.



There really is not that much to this one. For some reason, planet Earth seems a lot smaller and almost like a spaceship. There is some sort of event that may destroy the “world” and only about thirty people are able to escape in their own family escape pod, each of which holds a few people in a family (though with a larger family such as mine, there are two, which are connected and maintain the same orbit).

Finally, the last pieces of the planet (only a few, as the planet seemed quite small to begin with) are floating about in the center of a circle of escape pods. There are probably only about a dozen.

Regardless of the “end of the world” scenario, there seems to be no real concern about endangerment. We may be in our pods for a considerable time, though will still find new life on another planet. The feeling of being in outer space in such a structure seems quite real. Oddly, there seems no concern about food supplies or needed utilities. In the back of my mind, I am thinking, as always, it will turn out as how it should.

Morning of August 7, 2015. Friday.



This was an atypical extraordinary dream that was quite long and exhausting. I can only relate some scenes as much of it was abstract.

In one part of my dream, my wife Zsuzsanna (though at a much younger age before we met) seemed to be oddly played by the role of a white female; actress Mary Beth McDonough. After a time, she is more like a composite. As most people have learned over time from my extensive online journal, it is ludicrous that anyone other than the dreamer could associate or “interpret” anything in his or her dream. The idea is so preposterous (not to mention disturbing) that I could fill an entire book with how wrong this concept is. In fact, this tiny little facet of just one dream proves that.

No one but me could possibly relate why this dream facet manifested. It is because of one minor association between my wife and Mary Beth McDonough that only I could know, that being the deer symbol. This is because both my wife and her had photographs taken of feeding and petting a deer around the same age, and that is obviously the first thing that comes to mind for me.

No one but me could decode the next scene, either. Over time, I am concerned about this character’s safety. Her “parents” (though they seem completely unfamiliar) talk to me about her future and for a time, it almost seems as if I am the father. The male is dressed as in the painting “My Father Was Big As A Tree” from 1955 and does not remove his hat.

Something happens to where her fake father seems to be causing her trouble or preventing her spiritual growth by preaching some form of skewed Christianity. She sits on the couch with her arms folded much of the time. I begin to develop a special discernment that I cannot call lucidity, because I am not lucid. I tell the male that it is impossible for him to alter the destiny of a master since the patterns exist in the world itself. I become angry.

In this way as if noticing me as who I am for the first time (related to any faux back story), he seems to see me in a different light as I feel, for whatever reason, that I need to protect the actress (who is looking more like my wife-to-be). I feel an exhausting level of energy and blow out towards him as he shouts “Manny! Manny!” to his wife, and he transforms into a butterfly under my will as he escapes through the front open doorway of the unfamiliar residence. I expect him to not make it across the front yard.

“That girl was ta…” (thunder). Police cars take my schoolmate away. I want to live in the sky, away from humanity and those who so effortlessly prey on the innocent without remorse..and all the while playing the victim. I saw the signs and no one ever listened. No one ever does.

From here, I reach down and feel my left leg and notice it has transformed into a deer’s leg and I can clearly feel the foot. It seems very intriguing and vivid and I brush over the fur on my left leg. My wife is herself again and I am once again thankful that no other path would ever have given me life.

I then see myself in a painting where I am separated from humanity by a gulf that will always be reflected in “Alien Child” (as the original artist apparently saw himself). The painting “Alien Child” burns and so does “Hostile Butterflies”.

Only I know…

Morning of August 7, 2015. Friday.



I will try to refrain from another titular trend (such as “or not” in this case).

In my dream, I am once again on Loomis Street at my sister (deceased) Marilyn’s house. It seems to be early afternoon. My wife Zsuzsanna is with me at the house.

An unknown person (a young female in a jogging outfit, jogging southward) comes by our house and leaves a huge computer motherboard on our front sidewalk for some reason (just giving it to us, or perhaps thinking of our front yard as a dumping ground - this is not certain). The motherboard is about eight times the size of a real one. I am not sure what to do with it as it is older technology and I would likely have no use for it.

As I am wondering what to do with this junk, as it remains lying across our front sidewalk, along comes an (unknown and unfamiliar) older male that takes notice to it. A few other (unknown) people also crowd around for a short time. He asks me if he can look at it and I say yes (though I had not even looked at it). On one corner (upper left from my view), he takes notice to a particular chip which is apparently a bit newer than the motherboard itself. He asks me if he can buy it (the one single chip) for twenty dollars. This sounds very good to me and I feel quite cheerful upon hearing this. As I did not pay any money and someone else had just dropped it off for whatever reason, twenty dollars sounds good even if I give him the entire board, which I am thinking of telling him.

As the motherboard is lowered to the ground I notice at least six jars of peanut butter attached to it in a line over the top, each about two jar spaces apart, which seem to serve as some sort of conduit (or perhaps even additional power source). After several minutes pass, the male stands with his chin in hand gazing at the motherboard. He eventually looks at the chip again and tells me that the serial number on it is one day off from the chip he was looking for. This makes no sense to me as it is not relevant to specific timing of movement (such as with two cassette decks that are most usable when the model is identical, as the capstan is the same speed, or otherwise the variation would be too extreme for dubbing or oversampling).

He looks at me and seriously states “I’m not paying twenty dollars for that!” as if I was the one that told him that he should give me the money for it. I then tell him that he can just take what he wants, including the whole motherboard itself. I come to the conclusion that he is just “off his rocker” and do not say anything after this. The scene vaguely reminds me of one years ago when a very drunken male bought one of my father’s old tools (and I could tell he had no idea what it was, which was a very specialized large drill extension and I even asked him if he was sure he had use for it) and he dropped it on his foot and blamed me for dropping it. I am surprised he even managed to walk from the area. (My father had made a lot of sidewalk sections in addition to building public utilities and residential work in both La Crosse and Arcadia during the same period he was on the radio and local venues.)

This dream was precognitive (in some ways) of a message I received from a former member of one dream journal site, but I will not get into the specifics at this time. I can say that peanut butter often represents human waste in certain types of dream scenarios. The jars of peanut butter on the motherboard are a reference to what was said in a message about grooming and trolling on the Internet.

Night of August 7, 2015. Friday.



Oh no, not this “or not” again. (Someone slap me.)

Well, here is another little “weird” one. I do not have a Tower of Hanoi puzzle in real life (at least on hand) unless the baby-toy variation is relevant (my first guess being “no”). This is just a brief and skewed “anniversary” dream, I think, of playing around with a version of the Tower of Hanoi (and there are apparently several variations). Though it has shades of postcognition, I am more-so inclined to believe I might have seen the newspaper very recently due to the extensive level of research I have been doing of late.

One of the newspaper headlines I would have seen (while living on Rose Street) on August 7, 1965 reads “REDS ASK HANOI AID”. What this has to do with my dream, I remain clueless. Because the word “aid” appears, I assume it may be a play on help in solving the Hanoi Tower (which I have not really messed around with in years, the last time being a computer game version of it). Of course, maybe it is something that looks like the Hanoi Tower, and, specific to the date (August 7) perhaps metaphorically relating to three people who are passing something of a puzzling nature between the three of them.

No clue otherwise.

Morning of August 6, 2015. Thursday.



I am with an unknown male though also sense Zsuzsanna is around at one point. I am going with him to an unknown location, though I think it has something to do with recovering certain information on the other side of the river (possibly in a different town). We are both riding bicycles and it vaguely reminds me of riding with Kenneth W or James M at a distance (out of town or on the other side of town) that eventually seems too far, though my bicycle is functioning normally. There was another schoolmate that used to go with me most of the way home (only for a month or two), though oddly, I do not recall his name (one of the only names I had forgotten in my lifetime, in fact) and this may be the character I am thinking of. It seems fairly late at night and I can just barely make out land features.

We reach a bridge over water and cross it about halfway and I soon see it is slightly inclined to where it goes down into the water, submerged from there. This surprises me, as I thought the other male knew where he was going, though now it seems he is gone (or perhaps somehow already got to the other side). I am trying to remember if he did get to the other side (with a brief impression that he was in the water for a short time). I am not sure what to do. I am not sure if I should ride my bicycle over the surface of the water, ride in while half-submerged (with the bicycle wheels half-submerged as I cross the river) or just keep going and see what happens (though I do not really want to ride completely underwater). My dilemma causes my dream to slowly fade. I have had numerous similar dreams of partly submerged bridges and docks throughout my life since childhood. I suspect it directly relates to the waking process or state of consciousness itself as many other in-dream predicaments do (for example, a car crash may solely metaphorically represent the waking process and the termination of the temporary dream-self).

I might as well include another non-lucid dream with this entry since there is not that much to it. Caution: Violence at end. Skip to avoid.

I am shopping in a store I buy food at in real life, though it is quite different. I am looking in a very large freezer (much deeper than in reality - and it seemingly has no shelves) where there are mostly meat pie packages and a few other frozen items. I hold the glass door open for awhile and am somewhat annoyed as there is not that much food in normal packaging in the entire freezer (which is nearly the entire length of the aisle). What little items there are, are sitting on large cardboard boxes (I assume they are unopened stock) and there are also a few smaller boxes on top (a couple being open) and I contemplate getting out whatever I need as I thus far only have one meat pie package (probably containing about four to six meat pies). There are only a few loose items strewn about the top of the stack that I want to look at or perhaps buy.

I then see that there are three people on the other side of the boxes who are standing within the larger freezer area itself, the boxes of which are at least three rows deep and stacked to above the waist. There are two females and a male and at least two of them have clipboards and appear to be taking some sort of inventory. They are a bit to the left. I reach over to the right and move a couple smaller lighter boxes to get to another product, which may be the only one left.

“Why don’t you go somewhere else instead of f–king around here?” asks the male (who may be the store’s manager), sounding very annoyed. This surprises me because I am a customer in a grocery store just trying to reach a product. I inform the man that I am leaving (and I do) and that I will make sure none of my friends or family ever shop there again. (In real life, I no longer shop in the grocery store that absurdly promotes self-service through the cramped and problematic small self-service section with a trolley-full of groceries while the cashiers just stand around gawking as all the normal checkouts are blocked off.)

From here, I walk home (rather than continuing to do any shopping elsewhere), though the location and building is not that familiar, yet I know I live there with my family. It vaguely reminds me of some sort of unlikely composite of Duffy Street (Australia) and Arcadia’s North Monroe (where I have not lived since early 1968). There are many young people running around randomly in the front yard, perhaps involved in some sort of game (like informal soccer) or party, though there does not seem to be any order to any of it and some of them seem to be wearing very strange and random outfits. It may be some sort of high school or college event, such as a semester break (though I do not know why they picked this area as they obviously do not all live in the area).

As I decide to go around and enter my home through the back of the building to avoid collision or confrontation with what may be a chaotic group of addled college or high school students, a (unfamiliar and unknown) girl who seems friendly joins me. We walk to an area near the back of my apartment building (which at this point looks a bit like the apartment building across the yard from where I lived at North Monroe). The back of my building has a door to enter the premises (at about the middle of the walkway from where we are), though directly to my right seems to be another tall building so that it is like looking into a narrow alleyway. There are several boulders and large rocks within the alleyway which are blocking my way to the door (though realistically, it would be ridiculous to assume someone or even several people put them there by hand). “Who did this? How are people supposed to get into their apartment?” I ask the girl (who is standing to my left) angrily. The girl leads me to the other side of the building where the rocks are now mysteriously gone just from looking through the opposite side of the alleyway.

From here, we get to the back entrance where there is a screen door. A tall young unfamiliar male (though he seems almost thirty when I look again even though I first get the impression he might be a college football player) comes out asking “How are you doing, dad?” as if with mindless sarcasm related to my age (and I am at my own home after all and I assume he is not supposed to be there). At this point, I am annoyed, as I reach semi-lucidity and the waking stage at the same time. In previous dreams I used to shoot every annoying character during the waking process. This time I pull out a large knife and effectively run it across his throat as I wake.

This last part was strongly influenced by the “Secrets and Lies” television miniseries filmed where we used to live (where the father goes to get his oldest daughter and is insulted and pushed and told to leave by the younger male as if he had no right to look after his own children), where the little girl turns out to be the clever criminal and killer rather than the suspicious adult males or other characters. Sorry for giving it away but at least I spared you the misery of watching it. And yes, it was supposed to be a serious detective show.

Morning of August 5, 2015. Wednesday.



More. There is always so much more. Just when I had finished “The Macaroni and Spaghetti Mystery - Solved?” (August 4, 2015), the Source decides to start playing with me again and confirm at least some of what I already knew, yet alarm me with another end-of-the-world dream. It carries much the same theme as “Explosion on the Sun” (April 26, 1972). I believe, just as with an atomic bomb, a catastrophic CME mostly only represents the waking process and the transition of energies between different levels of consciousness. I know this from “A Place in the Sky” (November 26, 2014) where I was able to “pause” the nuclear event (though it was still occurring extremely slowly, though so slowly as to not be perceivable or represent any kind of a threat) and thus my dream did not end and it became more vivid (though not quite to apex lucidity - though it did not “need” to be) and longer than usual.

In this dream, I am living with my family in a completely unfamiliar building. My mother is alive again and there are a few bags of books apparently from the library. We llive on the first floor of a building that seems somewhat commercial as the windows are like glass walls. The residence seems to be in a larger city. Along with books, there are also some music CDs and movies. For some reason, I find myself looking for a certain CD and cannot find it anywhere. I also note the variety of books, some quite large. I say something aloud about wandering why she had checked out so much as she will not have time to read all these books, or in fact, even finish one of them.

However, I realize that Zsuzsanna had also likely checked out several items from the library, including several children’s books. There are at least four larger bags full and I continue to search for something I was sure was there before but cannot find it now (recurring dream situation).

Meanwhile, around this same time period, there had been some solar flare and aurora activity that was not threatening in any way. It seems to have stopped. The time seems to be just after noon.

I notice one very odd DVD cover, a movie I am not familiar with and I am very surprised my mother had checked it out, as it looks like a very amateurish adult (X-rated) movie. I then see that the unlikely DVD had somehow duplicated itself so that there are now two copies, though this does not trigger lucidity. The cover is extraordinarily ugly and disturbing and vaguely reminds me of a vampire theme (though is more lamprey-like facially). It features a girl with a huge perfectly circular mouth, so large as to almost be twice its normal size and it almost seems I can make out gills on the inside (on each side). I find myself staring at this imagery in a typical “frozen” surreal dream event (similar to “Dennis the Cyclops” from June 1, 1988). The “lamprey girl” apparently seems to only serve as an oral sex vessel in the movie (I assume), though this does not make much sense in afterthought, as her mouth is far too large to be able to give pleasure in any way. As I continue to gawk at this horrendous image, an unknown female (possibly an implied secretary or nanny) comes into the room and asks me about the solar flares and CMEs, as she says “the sky is flashing again”.

I go out to the front room and notice that the sky is indeed flashing (that is, the light in the room is cycling as brighter and dimmer in perfect timing). I look out and see a very vivid and realistic scene of strips of plasma coming down from the clouds and setting things on fire when they hit. It seems like it may be the end of the world. Through the glass walls on the opposite side of the room, I see Julia (from “Under the Dome”) running towards our building with her side on fire and smoke coming out. (This scene was obviously influenced by the “Ejecta” episode of “Under the Dome” though it is not her that is killed by the fire.) I first thought she was my wife (before she got closer to the windows) but then I realize my wife is probably safe inside. Still, I wonder how long this will last and if it really is the end.

Shift. I remember the entry “The Macaroni and Spaghetti Mystery - Solved?” and realize what I wrote was correct, though there is more. Though macaroni does indeed represent the human brain (because of its appearance) and implied mental energies, “macaroni” is also an in-dream play on “my corona” (my crown). This causes me to reflect on another layer of “As the Worm Turns” (May 17, 2014). The worms falling out of my hair and becoming dried elbow macaroni are a play on the loss of “my corona” (my crown) in that I was leaving the dream state and no longer the king (though I was not lucid in that dream anyway - it was just more vivid than usual).

Also, the typical day-to-day precognitive layer follows (though as stated before I do not always document it online); my wife opened a letter from the library shortly after my dream and it said she had one overdue CD - which included songs from the “Twilight” (vampire) movie. I had no way of knowing this otherwise.

This also influenced me to have another look at “Dennis the Cyclops” due to it reminding me of the “lamprey girl” to some extent. Here are my words from that entry from my dream of June 1, 1988: “The ‘Dennis the Menace’ comic prior to this date was a gag where he said 'Guess what, mom! All the mirrors in the house look like ME!’ (and the one on this date - not yet seen at the time - having him ask Mr. Wilson, who is digging, 'Who buries the worms here in the first place?’ - nothing I know of relating to any 'explanation’ for this imagery other than the eye being partly mirror-like).”

Note the “worms” play again right after the unusual reference to what could be a play on Universal Mind (“All the mirrors in the house look like ME!”). Also, June 1, 2001 (not only exactly thirteen years after my dream but also exactly thirteen years after the “worms in the ground” panel he drew) is when Hank Ketcham, the artist of “Dennis the Menace”, passed away.

Morning of August 3, 2015. Monday.



This is a recurring concept though always different, that is, my dream rendering the Internet as being on paper and in various notebooks rather than on a computer or visible computer network. This concept has been more prevalent over the past six years or so.

In this dream, I am with a group of people of whom I do not know, though my wife Zsuzsanna is also in the room. I am not sure if it is in an implied residence of ours or a business.

There seems to be some sort of political atmosphere though I suspect it may also relate to finding information to validate certain aspects (such as possible previously unrealized influences) of my childhood dream journals. Somehow, I go to a website by holding a pencil down over the URL that is printed on paper and the “website” appears on another document in the room. This works for about fifteen minutes or so, but the information becomes a bit sparse over time.

Soon, all evidence of the particular “website” seems to vanish as if a portion of the Internet simply disconnected all public servers solely due to someone using it after a presumed long public hiatus. I get a very vague impression that it was a website used to store hidden information related to politicians, and someone noticed it was in use and did not want the information to be used publicly. I get a vague impression of a young blonde female, somehow “seeing” her, though more just being aware that she is the only one left watching the server activity, and she seems annoyed and realizes that she must shut the network down.

Of course, this is all metaphorical, as there are no actual computers anywhere, only various documents that apparently teleport from one place to another, or more likely, copy themselves to another location, somewhat like a FAX without the FAX machine, I suppose.

There are a few points of frustration when pressing on a printed URL on a sheet of paper does not seem to work as well as at other times. Also, the resulting paper or documents appear in a hard-to-find location at times (such as behind several files in a filing cabinet), though still in the same room. Sometimes there are only a few lines on them.

Morning of August 2, 2015. Sunday.



There is a small hill on the side of a larger hill sloped down to my left with a single tree growing on the top and a small cave within the smaller hill that is slightly to the left at first. Looking more closely upon approach, tree roots hang down from the ceiling of the cave. This creates somewhat of an unusual impression that I cannot put words to. It gives me pause to think that, even though the tree is possibly very old, many of its roots are exposed within the cave, even more-so by anyone who wants to mess about in the cave. In fact, I even get the impression of an unsavory character looking around the side of the hill to my right.

Going partly into the cave though mostly staying by the entrance, I discover that the roots are actually not roots, but the trunk of some sort of miniature exotic tree (possibly a fruit tree of some kind). The top of the tree is in fact very green and I now see that the roof of the cave has nothing hanging from it as was seen just previously. Now I think that this special tree may even be more vulnerable than the tree above (even though it is unlikely it would have flourished in a dark cave as such) as it is seemingly much younger and certainly smaller.

However, it soon dawns on me that I am, in fact, in the cave myself (rather than looking in from just outside) and am looking out at a normal-sized tree in a field that is a fair distance from the cave, as I realize I am looking at a blue sky from my viewpoint rather than the dark recesses of a cave. (There is a brief sense of deja vu relating to something about commentary on dream journals, yet I cannot quite focus and I am in no way lucid and the idea of a dream journal, especially a digital one, falsely seems somewhat abstract and “out of reach”). I am wondering if I should feel vulnerable now that I am in the cave and am not sure if I should exit. I do not really focus on the illogical changes of perspective and imagery and placement that I would otherwise just enjoy in light sleep paralysis (during the speedier imagery before it slows down enough to “enter” when a more interesting setting or location appears).

When I was very young, I played near a recess in a hill on Chipmunk Coulee, though the “cave” was not very deep. I remember at least one photograph where I was sitting in the area, which is probably with at least one relative now. I remember the unusual perspective I had at that age (which carried over into some later dreams) of being “between worlds” just by sitting within the entrance (part of me outside, part inside).

Morning of August 1, 2015. Saturday.



In my dream, I find myself in an unknown composite, atypical, and possibly a mix of Rose Street and North Monroe Street, though another location is added later on. I am seemingly in a house visiting people I do not really know (or recognize in conscious afterthought) at all, possibly my presence based on a friend knowing this family. There is a man and his wife, probably in their thirties and they have at least three teenage daughters. In some ways, this is the opposite of a typical imposer dream in that I feel as if I am imposing in this one (rather than people I do not know “invading” our home), which is so rare, I cannot recall the last time this situation occurred in this particular manner.

I am sitting in a cloth-upholstered armchair (not a recliner or at least not open as one) in what I am guessing is a large dining room. The large rectangular dining table with a dark brown veneer surface is longways from the wall (and against it on the opposite end) directly facing to my side of the room. It takes me awhile to realize that I am not dressed and just have a sheet around me. Still, not only does no one seem to notice, the married couple seem to be somewhat impatient or concerned about my not being at the table yet (though not angrily so; they are quite cordial and welcoming). The unknown female has apparently put a lot of effort in preparing a large meal and I feel slightly bad about not being certain if I really want to sit down with them (especially as I am only in a sheet). At the same time, I notice that there are only six places set across from each other (none on the edge opposite the wall though there would be room for one extra setting there otherwise), and this does not at all seem to be enough space for all of us (considering that there are also a few other guests around my age, it seems, though they may not actually all be staying).

I feel that the food should not go to waste, though I tell them I have to use their bathroom (mainly so that I may get dressed even though they still do not seem to care at all even though they are devout Christians). When I go into the bathroom, I am aware that it is actually the room I stayed in on Loomis Street when first moving from Florida in the summer of 1978. Through the doorway (south) is the (wrongly placed) dining room I had just left and to my right (west), instead of the door into the very large closet that adjoins the two bedrooms, it appears to be an open door that leads to a small unlit room that is also adjacent to the dining room. Also, there is no curtain on the south doorway, so I am directly exposed to people walking around in the dining room, who are seemingly becoming concerned at me not coming out yet. There is actually a toilet in the room directly facing the south doorway. I stand in this area trying to put clothes on (which were apparently absentmindedly left by another male) though people keep coming in and interrupting me, albeit either cheerfully or absentmindedly. This includes my sister-in-law Cindy (appearing as she did about twenty years ago) coming in from the west doorway and Zsuzsanna’s half-brother Simon coming in from the south doorway at different times.

Finally, the three girls come in and start yelling at each other and punching each other in the stomach. Then the mother comes in after a couple minutes and yells at all of them, and then all four of them are all wrestling around on the floor and rolling around and fighting and kicking (though I am not sure why). I decide I have had enough of this and will not stay for dinner after all and will just leave in a sheet. I have no desire to get involved in whatever issues they have with each other.

My dream’s ending was mainly environmentally scripted by at least two girls arguing outside our window (while they were walking down the footpath) when I was sleeping, as has happened in the past, thus changing the nature of my dream. The rest of my dream was likely heavily influenced by two Jehovah’s Witnesses (male and female) knocking on the door quite early around the same time period, as my wife had told me they left a paper which she immediately tossed away.

---

Morning of July 31, 2015. Friday.



Notes: The included images are from one of my wife’s many journals, this one being from age fourteen. The two scans are from the same journal page, one showing a distorted Merkaba form, and the other inclusive of the line “I feel you around me even though you have not found me”.



Dream notes:

Yet again, many years of my life and memory “vanish” and I am probably about nineteen years old. I am apparently in La Crosse at the Post Office (though it is actually a typical muddled composite location). Several other people are around (mostly males around twenty to thirty years of age) even though it is seemingly late at night (and the post office would otherwise be closed to the public by then in reality). I do not seemingly know anyone else though there is a friendly atmosphere.

As I am seated across from another male, a Blue Pearl event (Merkaba portal) blocks my left eye’s field of vision (though not entirely) as in real life. However, this does not activate my memory (likely as it is just a rendered dream event and the Merkaba portal only appears in full wakeful consciousness). The other male had been aware of seeing the “blue flame” around me and seems somewhat surprised. “Did you see that?” I ask him and he nods.

A little later, I try to “call” it but nothing happens other than a light blue veil-like impression in my left eye that quickly disperses. That is, it is very subtle and does not come “closer” or briefly flash and darken before fading. I end up trying over about twenty minutes in about three locations where other people are around. A couple people think I am jesting and make jokes about other colors such as yellow. One even pushes me near the shoulder (though lightly in a friendly manner). I am somewhat frustrated I cannot call back the Source for whatever reason, though I have no focused intent on why - just the idea of the appearance and not how I would relate to it. (Although there is information about “Metatron’s Cube” I have only ever seen the star tetrahedron that forms the blue portal when the normal and inverted pyramids come together and rotate in opposite directions, although my wife had drawn variations on it in her journal during her childhood and early teen years, along with, of course, the opossum under the airplane and hundreds of other remote-viewed confirmations.)

There is one scene where a male is kneeling on the floor and seemingly doing some sort of occult ritual against another person (which I assume is metaphorical of people connected to the Source being manipulated by “normal” people and their false views of life). I immediately mumble some Latin (though I am not sure of the phrase; part of it was something like “dimittam”) and the implied villain falls over and is unable to move and the other person goes on his way.

From here, I hear people talking about how the bus is late. I go out and see (on the other side of the street from the post office) two different buses, though there is another one on the post office side. The bus I have to get, second one across the street (facing southward) does not have a driver, as he seems to be involved in a fight - not a violent or physical fight but chasing someone from the area for some reason. The area north of the post office (on the side of the street I am on) is modeled fairly accurately after the bus stop area of the Chermside Shopping Center that was several blocks away when we lived on Stadcor Street, but this does not dawn on me. (Thus, once again, Australian and American settings join in an in-dream composite rendering.)

I am feeling inside my right pocket for change and can clearly feel the coins (of which there are about seven of various denominations) and try to determine what they are by feeling the size - and reflect that there is at least about a dollar, though I am somewhat concerned if I have enough money for the bus (though I am not sure what the fee is), though I do not even reflect on what my destination is. My dream fades from around this point (before I get to the bus). It is possible, though not certain, that “trying to determine the denomination of a coin by feeling it” has something to do with a focus on trying to relate (blindly) to other people’s religions without really knowing at all what they mean, as “denomination” can also be defined as “a recognized autonomous branch of the Christian Church”.



Although I do not typically document it online as it is almost continuous (and is sometimes so precise, it would almost make my dream extraneous by description - and who wants an extraneous dream journal), yet again a dream utilizes something my wife had been thinking (without her saying anything to me) or a detailed subject of something she and our oldest daughter had talked about (without any way of me knowing about it - unless there is some sort of invisible intercom on my computer desk that relays the information - a bit of dry humor). She and our daughter were talking about the “blue moon” last night (of which I did not know anything about otherwise).

At the same time, it is also precognitive of something I see immediately after waking (also typical from day to day). In this case, it was a rather idiotic local article called “‘Blue moon’ doesn’t mean the moon is actually blue” and seemed almost like a humorous “continuation” of a couple in-dream concepts (from others in the post office).

Morning of July 30, 2015. Thursday.



This recurring dream situation is not remotely symbolic in any way that I can tell and is mostly only literally based on real-life annoyances as well as environmental scripting (for example, light hammering and weed whackers very early in the morning). I had previously posted similar environmentally-scripted dreams, including the “inferior decorators” theme. This one is not quite as surreal and the noise was not quite as intrusive. As I have said, when there is environmental noise during sleep, I sometimes also dream of exploding credit cards, playing cards, and other smaller items that disappear in a bright flash, leaving me somewhat puzzled unless I am lucid and even then it causes a brief shift in in-dream perception.

In my dream, it seems to be the present, though we are living in a different (unfamiliar) residence. It seems like a large two-storey house. The room I am “sleeping in seems to be L-shaped and on the second floor. I am at the "foot” of the “L” back against an area where I do not expect the renovator to approach. He mostly remains in the “stem” of the “L” though I hold the sheet almost fully over me in case any paint flakes go flying in my direction. He has some sort of vacuum-cleaner-like machine he is carrying around (like a suitcase) and seemingly sucking up all the cracked and peeling paint that I guess is mostly on the ceiling in the “stem” area. However, at one later point, I look up and see that not only is there loose peeled paint everywhere, the wood of the ceiling itself seems to be fused into the paint and splintering down somewhat, though looking almost like plastic, yet the unintended “design” is very even and regular across the whole ceiling. This seems a bit odd, as I am fairly certain I heard him scraping the layer of paint off (as well as some sanding, I think, or vacuuming off any chipped paint) and assumed it would be fairly smooth by now. I get the brief impression that someone might actually try to paint the ceiling in this strange condition.

In another scene, my wife Zsuzsanna and I are embracing near a window on the second floor. A cherry picker is just outside and at least two men are staring into the window from perhaps ten feet away. (Strangely enough, this brings to mind a recently reviewed dream from all the way back to 1967, about forty-eight years ago - “Ferris Wheel at my Window” - which also has people using an unfair advantage to look in through my second-storey window). As I am noticing this, my wife somehow goes straight out the window and is suddenly on the ground below yelling at the work team (without being injured in any way, and in fact, not even seeming to climb out but just teleport or go through the wall and drop vertically and perfectly). I am slightly startled by this and then go to look for her.

From here, I go outside and I start yelling at any other male that may be within hearing range. A friendly male comes from around the corner of the house and asks me if I am talking to him but I say “no” so as not to hurt his feelings or alter his friendly nature.

I then go to some sort of warehouse-like building with no external walls (similar to the look of the unfinished house my wife lived in as a child). There is a lot of junk, which is probably related to the renovation work. Not much happens after this though I am thinking I will probably end up doing much of the painting myself.

Morning of July 29, 2015. Wednesday.



My dream before this, as is sometimes the case, is just a bit too surreal to even begin to describe correctly, though I would not say abstract. It involved something about another planet (or perhaps alternate universe) with at least three larger unusual lifeforms, one like some sort of composite of snake, slug, and something else. I and about three others are exploring the area and a couple different creatures approach us (I assume by either scent detection or movement) but there is no direct threat. We actually seem to be some sort of creatures in a couple scenes. It is hard to relate. The region is not that defined and seems somewhat like a miniature mountain and cliff area. One of us as a creature first seems terrified (of the snake-slug-whatever) but others of us (as creatures) are able to communicate with the other creature and it goes on its way.

At any rate, I shift into a more “normal” dream and am in a room that (yet again) seems loosely modeled after features from the house in Cubitis (where I have not lived since late June of 1978). This time the carport area is apparently inside the house though the window (of the internal wall) of my oldest son’s room makes it seem like our present home on W Street. (Otherwise his room would be modeled after my room as a teenager).

For seemingly the “entire night” I am playing around with some sort of unusual compact disc. It has a pattern on its surface much like the image in this entry on the playing side (rather than more uniform bands of color). For some reason, I “recognize” it as a chaordic disc that can be “played” by randomly moving the mouse so that the laser goes all over the surface through random data rather than just reading it normally.

Doing this (and I have no clue why) results as one continuous combined event in various very short pieces of music, voices (mostly female) uttering one phrase, fractal patterns forming out of quickly sequenced images, and so on, with possibly what may even be some correct new form of mathematics related to fractals and chaos-related calculus (which I do not work on as much as I did about twenty years ago). I can clearly hear everything in perfect stereo though the imagery is two-dimensional as on my real computer monitor (and I do not attempt to “project” into the imagery).

Again, I am not sure why I have gotten into playing around like this. It may even be originally (at least in one data track) some sort of portmanteau movie though also integrated with scientific data and other features. Some of the images on the screen are cloud forms mixed with Mandelbrot patterns. It is almost like trying to make sense out of watching frames of several different movies at once out of about a hundred total while listening to one or half a measure of various audio recordings.

I eventually notice my oldest son’s computer coming on in the next room (via the window in the internal wall) except that it is only white lines slowly appearing in sequence on a black screen as it boots up (as on an old MS-DOS system). I am surprised my son is up so early in the morning to look at his computer (as it is not yet dawn). My computer’s monitor had been facing north (as I am looking south) and my son’s computer’s monitor is facing east. Yet again, I am “fooled” (or I fool myself, more like) into integrating my Cubitis home into a recent dream setting with my typical in-dream amnesia of real-life present locations (as I am not lucid at any point). However, no composite is ever quite the same as any other even after hundreds of variations, which is intriguing in a way.

Morning of July 25, 2015. Saturday.



I had a very bland dream of looking at an unsolved diagramless crossword puzzle (which I had never been a fan of though had solved a few in my life). It does not seem to have been worked on correctly, as there are no symmetrical or mirrored aspects anywhere - the black squares seem all random. More oddly, no words have been filled in, which you would have to at least know some of to begin the implied pattern. I am not sure where the puzzle came from or who had been working on it.

It is possible that this dream was only a surfacing memory with in-dream distortion relating to when my older sister Marilyn gave me all of her puzzle books (including ones with pages of diagramless puzzles) going back to the 1950s and which I no longer possess (I wanted them to be in her house again, though they were probably discarded when she passed on). It could also relate to my view of society as somewhat random and not very organized or responding correctly to clues or other information, including the nature of authority and government.

Morning of July 24, 2015. Friday.



In my dream, I am in an unfamiliar area with no clear associations in conscious afterthought of exactly where it could be, which is fairly rare for me. I do seem to have some hold on directional orientation, though whether it is implied to be America or Australia would change the present orientation. I will assume it to be America, though I do not focus closely on any cars (that is, what side the driver’s side is on) that would tell me of the country.

As such (American orientation, otherwise all the compass directions can be assumed to be reversed), I would be going due north along a causeway, on a sidewalk on the east side of the road. There are not that many buildings though it does seem like an area near city center. It might, in fact, be Chicago (south of main urban areas), though at a later point, vaguely reminds me of Third Street in La Crosse (though the car park would be rotated ninety degrees if such is the case).

I am walking along not that briskly but carrying my youngest daughter (age two) Isabelle, which seems somewhat strange, as I do not see other members of my family anywhere. The back story, though I am not certain, seems to relate to trying to get away from some sort of military conflict (unsure with who) or very vaguely (in the back of my mind) some sort of less serious (local) natural disaster - though the weather seems nice and I do not hear any gunfire or explosions. However, it may also be just a military exercise (even if to make veterans feel more “comfortable” about their past), as it feels more like such just before my dream ends. I am not that clear-headed in-dream, so am not sure about (or focused on) the status of other family members. It seems to be perhaps around two in the afternoon or later.

About six soldiers (including possibly veterans) of about three generations jog on the opposite side of the street and they are going in the opposite direction. I wave at one of them assertively (with my right hand held up) and he starts to wave back. He seems about twenty years old or younger. However, as I wave, my hand “automatically” (absentmindedly) forms the V-shaped “peace” sign. The soldier’s wave becomes less assertive and falls back incomplete as if he thinks I might be an unusual character and not patriotic at all. I feel slightly unsure about what I have done (though only vaguely foolish) in signing “peace” to what is likely a military exercise. I do not notice any other civilians anywhere or any cars in motion. I feel vaguely embarrassed about possibly having just annoyed him (or even distracted him) instead of just a harmonious “hello”, though it is not exactly embarrassment but something else.

Finally, I turn to go west into a car park for some reason (of at least two storeys). However, I soon realize that there is probably no feasible way to come out the other side (though I am unfamiliar with the layout). Not only that, I do not like the presence of dust and sand (and do not want to go through it with my child), which seems to be carried in the air at times by a mild breeze and creates a very vivid essence of “real” particulates in the air (though I am not lucid). This sparse cloud of particulates is higher and more on the level of the second storey of the car park beyond the ramp I am ascending. I turn around to go back out. Still carrying my daughter, I notice another small group of the military jogging up the ramp towards me to my left (though I do not detect any danger behind me, though I had not seen much of that section of the car park that they are apparently jogging to). I am annoyed that it may be more difficult to go that direction now, feeling somewhat “blocked”, even though there seems plenty of room to get past them (this reminds me of another dream concerning an approaching truck that was only partially rendered at first, which had clear precognitive connections with another dreamer). From here, my dream fades.

Update on same afternoon: This dream seemed to be the usual remote-viewing or precognition at very high precision, as I had this dream before reading an e-mail that unknowingly implemented this dream almost like a scenario representing the e-mail itself - concerning military preparedness, veterans, exercises, and their dreams. (I had no idea or prior “clue” that I would be getting this particular e-mail content.) More curiously, yet coincidentally, the first thing I see on tumblr when I post this dream is an image of a cat with “peace was never an option” above its head; typical synchronicity I have had all my life. This came after I already had a vague association that the solider that began to wave in this dream and stopped upon seeing my peace sign was somehow some sort of “continuity” of Tiger the cat in one of my last dreams. Of course, this level of detail cannot possibly be coincidence (especially continuously over almost fifty years), but then, what is it exactly? (That was just a rhetorical question.)