non-lucid

Morning of June 25, 2015. Thursday.



I am once again at the King Street boarding house in La Crosse, Wisconsin where I have not lived since the late 1980s, though this is also an atypical in-dream location in the backyard near the southwest corner. I find a yellow plastic bucket (probably about a three-gallon size) full of paper scraps, about three-quarters full. All of the paper scraps have either one of two shapes. Either they are square and have some writing on them in typed print or they are shaped like corner-to-corner adjacent longer rectangles and without writing (similar to one of the Tetris shapes, and indeed, this dream may actually be based on my interest in the so-called Tetris effect, though not relevant to the Tetris game itself as I do not play it). I find the rectangular pieces (about four inches in length) quite intriguing in shape for some reason and first consider that they might be worth more than the other scraps even though the square pieces have a written claim that they can be reimbursed for a certain amount of cash, possibly around five or more dollars though I am not certain of the amount.

Still, I begin to sort them out, and eventually realize that the curious connected rectangle shapes (many of which are slightly curled) may not be worth anything after all as they do not have writing on them. This makes me a bit annoyed as there seem to be slightly more linked rectangular scraps than the square ones, which I realize are probably some sort of mail-order coupon and perhaps worth three dollars each at this point. Thus I become more interested in holding onto the “coupons” to mail them in for cash. I am not even sure who the bucket belongs to, or of any in-dream back story to the scene.

Eventually, my pinhead friend from years ago (who also lived at King Street), Leonard S, comes out and informs me that none of the paper scraps are worth anything and that the square “coupons” are related to some sort of mail-order scam. Somehow, in the back of my mind, I already knew this and ponder why I even bothered sorting them in the first place.

This dream seems to be an odd composite of two fairly clear associations from over twenty years apart. The paper scraps remind me of a science activity I taught recently (grades six to eight and of a McGraw-Hill manual) whereby you “classify” different shapes of small paper cutouts into different groups to learn about how scientific classification works - even though the activity did not include the rather peculiar joined rectangles shape (which I still find a bit intriguing to appear as such so consistently in a dream, especially a fair number of the exact same size). The other aspect reminds me of years ago when Leonard kept sending money to the same company each time he supposedly won a “prize” which always turned out to be a tiny black stone glued to a piece of cardboard, which he apparently enjoyed getting (although his mood was quite erratic at times - he looked like a more developed version of the more well-known Schlitzie, and was also more intelligent and mentally competent in most ways though his mother did not want him and he grew up in St. Michael’s Orphanage in La Crosse).

Morning of June 21, 2015. Sunday.



This dream was fairly abstract and no main events occur. It involved some sort of longer computer-like machine (looking more like an electronics deck of some sort from the 1960s) that displays various images, which seem to be random parts of various magazines and comic books for no particular reason other than perhaps as a so-called screensaver or perhaps even related to advertising (the books apparently being scanned somehow in their entirety on the right of the monitor).

The main focus seems to be on a fictional comic book about an elf superhero called Aye, vaguely similar to Elf Quest (which I have not really read much of) in some ways but more like Thor in terms of theme and art. The name of the comic book also seems to be “Aye” (possibly just an in-dream play on “eye” or “I”). The images on the small screen (in comparison to the machine itself) show fairly quickly (and also include random images from old issues of Life Magazine, Look Magazine, and Superman comics), almost like riffling a deck of playing cards. It is a typical “just looking at something” dream with no dominant emotion and there does not seem to be any plot or theme, just the idea of the mechanism and the imagery.

Morning of June 20, 2015. Saturday.



My wife and children and I are again living on Barolin Street where we have not lived since March 2008. There is a fictional body of water in the backyard which first seems like a river (in a similar orientation as a fictional feature in my dreams about Cubitis where it replaces the railroad track area) but is later a swimming pool that is much closer to the back of the house. My dream “resets” a few times, and it is as if I am creating or forcing the drama at a background level. This is one of those dreams of a type I have not felt in some time, which is a strange type of sleep paralysis but not full to where it is lucid or as blissfully enjoyable, where my legs have a strange sensation all over the skin that is hard to describe - along with a bizarre anticipatory feeling or the nerves in my legs having been augmented to an almost overwhelming level. This happens on and off after waking several times and quickly going back into the same dream as a “reset” (usually with a slightly different sequence). Thus there are at least four or five versions of this dream within the same time period (though a more common event when I was younger). This dream also seems to have more “immediately reset and replay” scenes than usual.

In the primary version and main outcome, I notice a huge alligator head that had emerged from the surface of the water behind our house. At first it seems amusing, though over time, a part of myself seems to force elements of my dream for dramatic effect. A few times, I typically am aware I am creating my dream, but yet am not lucid or self-aware at my dream-self level. This is a common state I have never really read about in all the dream literature I have seen and yet is my most common “normal” way of dreaming.

There is a scene where I am describing the alligator to two unknown males who had been in a canoe on the river. I say how its head was about as large as half the living room though I realize that is an exaggeration.

There is a scene where two cats (one being our real black-and-white cat Franco, the other unknown) fall into the water of which is now of a swimming pool. I am looking out a fictional back window from what would otherwise be the kitchen area. An alligator head emerges and swallows the same cat a few times (in “resets”) and I feel upset and also realize my children will be very upset though I do tell them in most versions though it ends up to where the cats were not swallowed or eaten at all.

We still have to abandon the house and leave the area to the alligators. At one point, there is a fictional male that seems tiny and he falls down the front staircase (with a strangely cheerful manner), which are much bigger and with more steps than in reality. I do not regard his miniature nature at all. I only know we all have to leave to avoid being eaten by the alligators, of which there are perhaps six or seven.

My dream continues to jump back and forth with “resets” and replays in somewhat random and completely incongruous sequences (even for a dream) even though I retain all the main dream scenes after waking. Long ago, I decided this was some sort of “practice” function of dreams, which may be why some people cannot remember or resolve their dreams in the manner I usually do in that, because so many different versions of a scene or outcome resulted, the dream becomes muddled or uncertain in singular details (which do not exist due to there being several versions of the “same” event). This may also explain in-dream deja vu, where your dream-self had forgotten the first version of a dream sequence while still in the dream.

Most of the events seem to occur at night, though the cat scene was well-lit (though possibly with outside lights on the eaves of the back porch). We “escape from our home and do not return” a few times in a row. Each time after the “reset”, the setup becomes more and more ludicrous. There is one bizarre scene where I am aware of an alligator having put a ladder against our house to climb up and enter through the window like a person. (In fact, it is as if my dream-self is trying to force this to happen - though it never does.) In this case, the living room extends to that side of the house where the bathroom would otherwise be. Also, the (one-storey) house seems a bit higher up. (In reality it was on stumps, but the first floor not at what would be perceived as second-floor level when compared to a normal house.) I become vaguely aware I am creating my dream at this point, though with no lucidity. There is also an idea they will start coming in from the south end of the house (which has a fictional layout including a hall rather then the outside side staircase entrance leading directly into the living room).

My wife also had alligators in her dream at the same time, with no real-life prompts (other than her seeing something I did not in a children’s book from the library); a type of partially shared dreaming that has been happening continuously for a few years - though often based on something my wife was thinking while awake that I could not have known about.

Morning of June 15, 2015. Monday.



This dream starts out with a fairly clear and detailed scenario (like one of yesterday’s dreams) yet does really not make any sense - and also, like my other dream, I am not directly involved at any point.

There is a group of people who are trying to escape from another group of people, possibly the main people behind a new infrastructure who want to eliminate certain descendents in certain families. There are mostly dark-haired males who are the targets. Some of them are hiding in a mostly empty wooden building (I assume one storey). There is one person who has been chosen to retrieve and remember vital information, in the form of numbers, from newer people coming in to hide in the building (though which are apparently unlikely to survive due to the other people discovering their hideout), to eventually leave to report them to someone else. This does not have any logic to it at all, as the numbers relate to important data concerning human populations - a number for each town in a larger region it seems (and a total of about seven or eight numbers at least), yet it is only the partial value in decimal, for example 0.891426 or similar. The whole numbers (the most important, and in fact only relevant part) are missing, which of course renders the decimal part pointless unless someone can impossibly match the whole number with the decimal part. (Apparently, there is another group of people who have the whole number values). As it is, it still does not make any sense, as you cannot have a fractional person (thus the number would only be a whole number anyway).

At any rate, the person gathering the decimal values is able to get out as their enemies find the hideout and most of them are killed. From here, my dream fades or shifts into another situation and my dream-self has no knowledge of the outcome of the previously established scene. (This dream segment was likely based on seeing the “Arrow” episode “Left Behind” the night before - where they were trying to work out the significance of part of a list of numbers though which had different context for the most part.)

Unlike the previous situation, I am fully in-body and actually in my dream. I have to get somewhere, possibly for delivering information, or perhaps finding a location to select for residence (which seems more likely). Still, it is not that clear. What I do know is that there is the idea that the railroad tracks I will be walking parallel to for much of the way give off powerful electromagnetic radiation (which supposedly eventually kills a person or greatly shortens their life), which is something to do with how the trains run. (Supposedly it is safe to be on the trains, just not on the outside near the tracks). This also seems to relate to some sort of conspiracy where people are warning others due to the government not giving this information about the serious dangers.

Even so, I walk along late at night and hear and feel a strange buzzing, which seems to have an effect on my perception (very vivid, but not dawning lucidity). It is an isolated area without many land features. There is one train station (which is supposedly safe) though I keep walking, not feeling endangered, yet somehow aware of the radiation entering me.

Morning of June 14, 2015. Sunday.



My dream seems impersonal and somewhat “distant” in ongoing associations for the most part, though it does not seem vague or distorted. It seems that the small population of a rural area, likely a farming community, needs help from the government in getting rid of excess water from their land, especially after some sort of winter flooding, but apparently, no help is ever given (and I get the impression this has been happening for a few years). I seem to be on the scene at one point, though it still seems relative to a news broadcast being filmed (though I am just a bystander). A chubby older woman comes out and squeezes water from her apron and skirt, apparently on the perimeter of their settlement near an embankment, and makes an assertive claim of how they are doing what they need with no help (that is, by the soaking up of the icy flood waters in their clothes and then squeezing it out elsewhere), though with a trace of sarcasm against her local government (which is not in the immediate rural area but an adjacent town where I can make out some buildings). I am not sure of the location or even the country that is implied, though it may be in Australia.

At another point, there is a seemingly unrelated scene (and shift in level of perception to clearer detail and brightness) of a dark-haired baby sliding down the side of a snowy hill in a more urban area in someone’s front yard where other people are also gathered (the snowy hill implied to lead down to the sidewalk and street). It seems to be a boy and he is wearing a thickly padded blue snowsuit and hood and is just rolling and sliding around (with no sled or anything). At first, I am concerned about the baby sliding around like that on his own, as he flips over at one point, going sideways, but he is uninjured and seems mostly emotionless but very alert. I also get the impression that the scene is being filmed by a family member. I feel fairly close to his face at one point but am not aware of my body and am seeing him from his eye-level in the last scene as his hood is slightly pulled back from twisting around during the last sideways slide. He seems very healthy and strong.

Morning of June 12, 2015. Friday.



In this dream I seem to be living in a skewed version of my childhood home in Cubitis yet again. However, the neighbors are seemingly all different and it seems to be in present time. The time throughout at least the first two parts of my dream is at night, perhaps around nine o'clock. I am with Zsuzsanna as we are now for the most part. To the south live another married couple, I think, and they own two cars, which for some reason are parked in the southwest section of our lawn, the back of the cars right near our windows, both cars facing south. This annoys me, but that is not the worst of it.

Just outside our windows, in our big front yard, is a large vehicle which mainly resembles a container truck. There is an additional truck which also seems to relate to an industrial or commercial venue; some sort of semi-trailer cab or utility vehicle though it reminds me of a Matchbox pipe-carrying truck I had as a child. One truck is parked facing south and the other facing east, parked in our driveway. I am very annoyed at why people would park like this in our yard. I start yelling at one point, at no one in particular, though the unknown female in the other house looks through their northwest window and says that the trucks are not theirs. Although I am annoyed by the cars parked in our yard, I say that the trucks are far more annoying to have parked right next to our windows. Both trucks look like they might be from the early 1970s or earlier. I am not sure where the drivers are.

I decide to go out and do something about the situation. Somehow (without any implied special powers) I am easily able to move the truck manually by pulling on the front bumper and it rolls to be perpendicular to where it was and now faces east towards our house. I give it a shove, and it rolls backward across our entire large front yard, goes across the highway, and stops on the other side near Kenny and Karen’s old house. The other truck, I do the same with, as I doubt anyone would know what happened or what I was capable of and I feel very good and assertive in doing this. I push it with slightly more effort and it goes a bit too fast and nosily flips over while crossing over the small culvert and lands on mostly its side, though partly leaning on the first truck. I feel a sense of pleasure and wish I could see the reaction of the drivers who had the audacity to park in our yard. An unknown neighbor mentions something about it and I make a claim of how they were so easy to move as such due to them being on wheels.

Later, my dream shifts slightly, and my wife and I are on a large bed at the end of our driveway, head of the bed to the south and adjacent longways to the highway. We are starting to make love. A group of people are walking south down the highway, all somewhat drunk. One mildly intoxicated male stops near our bed and holds his beer bottle on it (near my head) as if it were a counter. I start calling him numerous extreme curse words and ask him if he thinks this is a public place (which it is not, as we are technically in our driveway). As I am yelling, my dream shifts again, though I have a residual confusion about why I would have the bed outside and especially right off the highway. It seems related to just having augmented boldness.

This time, there was a “fictional three daughters” carryover from a recent dream. However, this time the fictional three daughters belong to my wife’s sister Judy - though I get the impression they are recently adopted, though they have a somewhat Middle-Eastern appearance. For some reason, Judy is rolling her eyes to where the pupils and irises almost vanish (and only white is left showing) and I comment on this in a humorous tone, saying something about her trying to see her own forehead or something similar.

My dream fades when we are all in the kitchen and there is something involving both the preparation of food and something about working with some sort of educational craft. I get the impression I had been eating too much of something from the refrigerator’s freezer but cannot recall what it was; possibly some sort of weird fictional food item, though I also take some Salami sticks out to eat from the refrigerator section after this.

Morning of June 11, 2015. Thursday.



This is a somewhat typical bus-riding dream in which my dream-self mostly remains passive and observant. Such dreams have occurred since early childhood with mostly the same features, but often with a singularly odd (often impossible) event. There is never a point where I get off the bus in most versions of this dream situation (although I sometimes seem to automatically shift or teleport to a different bus, or a different driver comes in). In this version I am vaguely aware of my present family status and the bus seems fairly crowded.

As usual, I have no idea where I am going, though also as usual, this issue is not mentally addressed (at least strongly) by my dream-self - I have a very nonchalant attitude considering I have no idea where I am or where the bus driver is headed. It seems the bus is just going around in a non-established route for the most part, though this does not seem problematic to any of the other passengers. It seems to be early afternoon and taking place mainly in a more commercial area of a larger city (such as either Brisbane in Australia or La Crosse, Madison, or Milwaukee in America, though I am not sure which - however, the bus driver is on the left from the passenger’s perspective so I should assume it is taking place in America, I suppose).

At one point, the bus driver apparently sees potential passengers that he had missed picking up on the other side of an intersection after he has turned a corner. The bus soon somehow effortlessly moves sideways (as if all the wheels rotated ninety degrees) and it travels as such to the other side of the wide street and stops near a traffic light for the other people to get on. This does not strike me as overwhelmingly odd (or in fact impossible), only slightly unusual and unexpected, but my dream begins to fade around this point.

Morning of June 10, 2015. Wednesday.



I am in a non-lucid state, though the setting is extremely well-rendered and most of it clearer even though it is mostly unfamiliar. My wife and family and I are living in a different type of building and had apparently moved here recently. The (fictional) residence has the typical “impossible” apartment-related situation that I have dreamt of all my life - where strangers are present in what would be almost the same living space. At one point, I am aware of an unknown older male on the other side of the main large room. Our living area is only divided from his by a curtain that hangs down to about four inches from the floor. I am fixing this curtain arrangement (for more privacy) while sitting on the floor, by pulling it fully down, as part of the bottom edge was draped over a cardboard box higher up (about a foot or so).

At one point, I am using a screwdriver to scrape up old soap residue from a floor tile and as I do, the tile actually comes off, though I manage to align it back where it should be. The appearance and movement (and manual effort) is very realistic.

I also find some toys that the last tenants left behind, some smaller toy cars in a bag, which I think I will put on my youngest son’s large (fictional) table for a pleasant surprise.

In the last stage of my dream, which is very clear, there are several large radios (or boomboxes) set up along the wall for some reason, all side by side on a large table. After a short time, they all start playing at the same time, fairly loudly, and mostly different songs (at least four). I think one song is Fats Waller and another a country song, possibly George Strait. I am annoyed because the radios seem to have been connected to some sort of timing system by the previous tenants and I cannot work out what to do with the setup. I am also somewhat embarrassed (as I do not want to be seen as making so much noise on purpose, as we had just moved in recently relative to my dream’s back story), as the other tenant is home, though I do not go through the curtain to his side at any point.

I try pushing the buttons and after a time, when I turn one radio off, another comes back on and this goes on for several minutes (so that it seems impossible to have all turned off at the same time) - and I am thinking that some sort of cable system (linked with a timer) is connected to all of them and they will play at certain times no matter what you do. It is somewhat amusing in conscious afterthought. The clarity of the power indicator lights is quite precise. This is similar to situations where I cannot turn all the lights off, which I have read in other people’s journals where they are experiencing the exact same details in the same way and with the same associations.

Morning of June 5, 2015. Friday.



My wife Zsuzsanna and I are watching at least three teenage girls from an unknown family, possibly (fictional) relatives. These girls seem to be curious explorers without caring much for other people knowing where they are at any point. The main part of my dream seems to be set later at night. For some reason, we are near an apparently abandoned building in an unfamiliar and unknown (unnamed) town or region. The building is somewhat reminiscent of a barn, but longer and could possibly be some sort of industrial warehouse, though the walls are not that high.

There is concern about a possible criminal in the area, though this is not clearly focused upon. I go into the building, which is completely made of wood and mostly featureless, and seemingly with a dirt floor (though this is not certain). I spend the rest of the time trying to work out where the girls went, trying to learn if they may be in danger or not. I do not feel directly threatened at any point, but I do not see anyone, either.

My dream becomes rather ambiguous concerning a wall on my right and a hall on my left, near the entrance into the building. I get the impression that at least two of them may be behind the wall, yet at the same time think they cannot be, because there is no door in that wall. At one point, I imagine a light shining underneath from the entire wall (though again without discerning any door).

Morning of June 5, 2015. Friday.



Abandoned filling stations (also called petrol stations or gas stations) are a very sparsely in-dream setting since earliest childhood. It is possible that they are a metaphor for feeling overtired prior to sleep and not having enough energy or “fuel”.

In an unlikely scenario, my wife and I are in an unfamiliar car and at an unfamiliar filling station (in a completely unknown region) which is seemingly abandoned although there is supposed activity now and then which apparently occurs at night (though I never actually see anyone else at any point), possibly related to cleaning up the site (though logically that would be more feasible during the daytime) or perhaps restoring the business. The building is to my right. Somehow, I am aware that our baby (possibly our youngest daughter though she is about a year older in reality) is in a baby pram closer to the building near the pumps (possible reference to breastfeeding). I am not sure where my wife is at first (I am apparently supposed to be watching the area and the baby) and am not sure why we are here or in fact why the baby is not directly with us in the vehicle.

There is a shift and I notice that our baby is not in sight. There also seems to have been the rapid unexpected passage of a day or more. I am concerned but yet also thinking that workers may have moved or taken her during the previous night or perhaps absentmindedly moved the baby pram without being aware she was in it.

Very worried, I get out to see where she could be. It seems to be the afternoon of the previous day. I notice that the baby pram is folded up and near an old oil barrel being used as a rubbish bin (which was behind the car and only noticed at this point). I also notice that some random items such as large cardboard boxes had been placed near the pumps. I open up the pram a bit (though not completely unfolding it as it seems damaged as if perhaps a truck ran over it) and am able to pull the baby out from the basket attached under the pram (with no contemplation over how she got there rather than being in the actual pram). She seems somewhat doll-like at first and I am very concerned if she is okay or not. Her eyes open and she moves her arms and legs, so I know she is still alive (even though that did not seem to be the case at first). I feel a sense of love and relief.

Situations like this, though quite ridiculous and “impossible” (at least in my family where we are always aware of where our children are), seem fairly common in some dream types.

Update: Although probably not true precognition, this article popped up after posting this today: http://www.abc.net.au/news/2015-06-0...icials/6523056

Morning of June 5, 2015. Friday.



I am near a small lake in a rural area in an unknown unfamiliar region, possibly in America, in the north. Although I am not lucid in any way, I am still aware that I have control over certain features of the environment, probably a sort of subtle telekinetic awareness that often occurs in dreams. Either that, or I have the nature of associations in being refreshed somewhat distorted as some sort of unlikely composite sequence (such as related to pouring water over your head when overheated mixed with the idea of swimming in a lake). Instead of (more logically) jumping into the lake to cool off, I raise my hands slightly to cause about two gallons of water from the surface of the lake to rise up and then fall onto me, which is quite refreshing. I do this a few times, with some sort of comedic dream within a dream awareness of having too much weight falling on me and thus falling over (though not in a problematic sense - being more like a silly stunt) - though again, this is only like a daydream within the “real” dream. Having control over water or the movement of it (such as even with tidal waves) has occurred at other times in my life.

Morning of June 5, 2015. Friday.



Haywire (Silas Weir Mitchell as in “Prison Break”) is throwing a lavish party in a small living room, though it does not seem all that crowded. He seems unexpectedly shy at some points, almost as if he regrets having all the people come to his house (the setting of which seems completely unfamiliar to me). There is a clear awareness of motion and laughter of the people who are present, not necessarily any other celebrities that I am aware of. Silas seems to be somewhat of a composite of the “real” Haywire and his “Grimm” persona (Monroe).

At one point, there is a dark brown horse in the room and a few people briefly pat it. Almost as if in an accelerated frame rate, Silas is astride the horse and dressed somewhat like a colonial soldier. The horse rapidly gallops through the room and leaps onto a table where the scene instantly freezes at the attempt of the horse to leap into Haywire’s painting (which of course is too small). Both horse and man are “frozen” as if in complete confusion (or a change of mind) at their attempt to go through the “portal” to escape the other people at the party. This is because the horse is too big to fit through the picture frame even if it were a true inter-dimensional portal, something that they (both horse and man) did not seem to realize until they were almost upon it. (The painting is to the right. I see the horse and rider in profile, facing right.)

Paintings that include a windmill have sparsely recurred throughout my life and always seem related to “escape” or an implied “better” place. Thus I found the “Prison Break” metaphor as such years after these dreams first began as quite amusing if not vaguely precognitive or of an archetypical association I am not yet aware of, although a windmill may simply represent the dreaming process itself.

Morning of June 4, 2015. Thursday.



As I have written in a few other entries, I have never had a “serious” dream about vampires (or zombies either). In fact, the only vampire dreams at all have only occurred in more recent years (which is unusual in that I watched far more vampire movies when I was younger yet never dreamed of being chased by one - probably because I never found vampires scary or threatening in any way even when young, this in my realization of how many dreams are otherwise directly or even solely influenced by movies or television shows regardless). This entry makes the sixth online entry (main tumblr journal) regarding the vampire theme (out of about 2,000 online foundational entries for my more complex and revealing work later on, hoping to build to about a meager 10,000 which represents only about a quarter of my writing), and there are not that many others documented. Obviously, without Hollywood movies, or perhaps more detailed literature as such, there would be no dreams about vampires - only less detailed monstrous threats perhaps (with human features), such as other types of unrealistically-rendered “demons”. I have dreamt of a large threatening bat but in a different context. The “were-hyena” dream (from 1990) is one of the only human-like fictional monsters I found threatening, and that dream was mainly a result of real-time environmental audio precognition (where I dreamed of a particular sound before it being linked to a very similar sound in reality - a type of recognized and personally well-documented dream anomaly I have never read about elsewhere).

In this dream, there is no direct instance or coherent rendering of my dream-self. I am mostly watching as if being a vaguely-aware bystander. The main character is a male of about forty at the most, of whom I do not know or find familiar in any way. He is in a meeting with Dracula and seated to my right at an old wooden table. Dracula is on my left but is rendered with extreme distortion. While he has the head of a bat (only about half the size of a human head), that head is hanging down from a snakelike neck so that his head is actually not visible to the person he is conversing with and actually at about the level of just below his ribs. It seems to involve the vampire wanting the man to read for him (in my last nonthreatening vampire dream, I was to write Dracula’s biography). Apparently, the man is illiterate or not a very good reader and seems to be explaining this.

Over time, I began to notice “more” (which is probably a typical changeover). The bat head may be either fake or be an additional extension from the snake-like “neck” from his upper chest area. I notice what looks like a sheet over a human head which is then implied to be the “real” vampire’s head - a dream detail which is probably a result of posting online an older - though enhanced with adult writing style, and freshly researched - dream from 1969 (“Sgt Carter Stalked by Killer Newspaper” from March 8, 1969). Although a new dream being influenced by a minor focus on a much older dream is something I have come to see occur more often as I grow older, I have more recently noticed it as having occurred now and then in past times more than originally noticed or realized.

I suspect the man is not that surprised by the distorted vampire because I get the impression that he cannot see very well (although the vampire with the sheet over his head probably cannot see very well, either - even if he saw through the additional low-hanging bat head eyes he would probably only see the underside of the table).

From here, my dream shifts into the vampire becoming something else, supposedly more “demonic”. He seems to be threatening as he walks toward a Rapunzel-like character and is growing horns as he is walking. However, it soon seems that he only has one larger horn though farther to one side, which makes me associate him with unicorns and juvenile fantasy. My dream takes on a rather distorted cartoon-like essence before collapsing into the abstract.

Interestingly, one of the first things I read when looking at another dream-based site today was someone dreaming about a vampire that changed into a creature with horns, without deliberately searching with such terms, though such synchronicity (or form of precognition) always happening continuously and too often to keep any record of.

Morning of June 3, 2015. Wednesday.



Once again my non-lucid dream state effortlessly and totally jumbles up otherwise familiar places into impossible composites and sudden switches. Again, I have to say, whatever mechanism so easily creates temporary extensive amnesia and loss of critical thinking skills and complete dissolution of intelligence is worthy of finding as much about as possible, especially because I know there is always something else “behind the curtain” which may not be viably associated or discovered until many years later (such as the fact my extraordinarily beautiful partner in life was always “with me” long before I met her of which we both still have endless proof in considerable and layered detail).

In this dream, I am first at my (deceased in real life) sister’s house on Loomis Street in Wisconsin. I am in the laundry room near the back door and notice several rubbish bins near the alley. My brother-in-law appears, though he is ready to leave to go somewhere in his car, possibly with my sister, though I do not see her or focus on her to any extent. They may be going out to gamble, shop, or (seemingly more likely) visit relatives concerning an upcoming funeral. There is a point at which I become aware of how unbearably hot it is; that the human race will probably only exist for another year due to the heat, but for some reason, it does not become a major in-dream choice of concern. Instead, I focus on a table near the entrance to the shed. On the table, which is somewhat like a cart with a shallow well as the top, are several large old books (of mostly red and blue featureless cloth covers) as well as at least two large photograph albums which are similar to H. E. Harris Statesman stamp albums in outer appearance. I get the impression that these books will all be thrown out although I am not sure why. I contemplate taking at least the albums though for no particular reason other than it surprises me that someone would get rid of so many photographs representing several generations of family. I seem to have an in-dream false memory of this man (who I never actually see). My dream’s back story does not seem to fully imply that he is residing in the shed, though I do not question why someone would have their belongings gathered and ready to discard in someone else’s backyard.

From this point things go a bit “off” regarding typical confusion of locations and features. I notice that my sister’s neighbor (Thomas N) immediately to the south has his gate open (though in real life the fence had no gate or access into the neighbor’s yard). This fictional gate is just off the northwest corner of his house (in back). Now, to add to the confusion, instead of Wisconsin, I am now in Florida, though it is “still” the same place, though actually now the front yard in Cubitis. Even more confusing, in Cubitis, there was never a fence between our house and the neighbor’s house in reality. It was all open and expansive and neither my family or the neighbors ever even defined any boundaries as such (in fact, in reality, our water pump was seemingly in our neighbor’s front yard or at least on the undefined perimeter). However, my clueless dream-self has a bit of concern over how the “gate was left open”, implying that the father of the girl next door had gone out and left it open - which somehow seems to connect to the earlier ambiguous scene about the books near the shed in Wisconsin. It seems important that I inform my mother that the gate was left open.

Over the (fictional) wooden fence, in the front yard near the highway (the old Highway Seventeen), I see a funeral carriage facing outward from their yard and to the west. I can see all the colorful flowers (a few arrangements in black vases which of course would just fall over when the carriage began to move) mostly arranged on the top of the funeral carriage, but I do not see a horse or the coachman at this particular point. I get the impressions that the family, or perhaps the funeral director, had forgotten about it, abandoned it for some reason, or left it behind upon the family moving to another location and “cancelling” the ongoing funeral due to the preference of a more organized move regarding the general order of their possessions (or the order in which they empty their house to move to their new home). There is no sense of eeriness; just a slight focus on why it was apparently left there for now.

I go to my mother (I seem about fifteen years old) who is seated near the windows in the living room that face the backyard, and report to her that not only had the gate (into our front yard) been left open but that the neighbors had moved and now the house was empty (which does not make that much sense as I still think about the girl’s father wandering around in an unknown area - which somehow gives me concern). I do not mention the funeral carriage at any point. Now we are in the backyard and I tell her again how the house is now empty. (Apparently, the wooden fence is now instantly gone). She seems confused about my belief and says that they had not moved and that the house is still obviously being lived in and points out details to back up that supposed fact. In fact, I can see details of the living room through a rear window (which does not exist in reality), including a television that is facing me through the window as well as an armchair and a table. Still, I argue with her and insist no one is living there (probably denial of elements of the past and the hopeless “idiot” I was at the time in real life).

From here, my dream takes another strange turn. The Cubitis home is now occupied by my family (wife and children) as we are now. There is also a (fictional of course) stream running through the property, probably under or through the house and flowing east to west through the middle of our yard. My wife and youngest son are in the front yard near this stream on the north side of it in about the center of the yard. An extraordinarily beautiful dark-haired girl (with a vivid goddess-like presence) shows up and seems to “tower” over me at one point. What I do not realize is that it is a much younger version of my wife though her hair is as my wife’s hair is now. I had always thought my wife Zsuzsanna Gabrielle was the most beautiful female I had ever seen yet here is this “new” girl causing me confusion (even though again, it actually is my wife, although at one point there seems to be a muddled set of female characters for a short time - the neighbor girl lying on her side in the back of a station wagon as she appeared in the early 1970s, a teenage version of my wife in addition to the twenty-old version, the present version of my wife, and a woman that vaguely reminds me of the old recovering-alcoholic secretary from my first factory job though who I was not attracted to in any way - which is probably an absentminded pointless play on the Paul Anka song “Diana”). I decide to throw myself into the stream (which is only about four inches deep) to see which version of my wife decides to notice or “save me from drowning”, though the dream becomes too abstract beyond that - though I still get the impression the two came to where I was lying in the stream at about the same time (that is, the present version and the twenty-year-old version, though their hair appearance is switched).

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Morning of June 1, 2015. Monday.



The first part of this dream sequence concerns a large lump of multicolored soft candy, which is actually as big as a basketball at one point. It is almost Playdough-like. I chew on some though am not fully sure if it is meant to be swallowed or used more like gum, though I do seem to be eating it for a short time. I assume purple is grape, yellow is lemon, red is strawberry, green is lime, orange is orange (citrus), and blue is blueberry. The flavor is fairly strong. As I pull certain pieces apart and roll the rest back into a ball, I find small toys stuck within some parts; many metallic figures (likely soldiers) and even a couple miniature ladders. I get the impression that there is only supposed to be one “prize” per smaller candy pack, but there are several in this larger blob - almost as if some just happened to appear mysteriously. There are at least two larger balls of this candy and I am getting the idea that the items inside can be sold at a local flea market, assuming we get enough to bother with for one day or so. (I do not give them to my youngest son because they are apparently mostly duplicates of what he already has.)

My wife and I end up at a flea market which seems to be at a location that is a composite of the area just north of us in real life near the zoo and the south school grounds from my old elementary school in Florida, including the playground, though the setting seems a bit different than either location. It seems we do not have much to sell and are mostly there to see how the market operates. After wandering around for a time, there is a sudden heavy rain and wind that causes everyone to go into a large warehouse-like building but still be publicly available to buy things from. My wife and I want to see how people are doing, but are not sure how to get into the building. We end up going through an area that seems like a large bathroom, which seems rather strange to have as an entrance in a public area even if it is the back part of the building (though still with nearby public sidewalk access). After we go through, we reach a room where a (unknown) family is seated on the floor. I sit down and there is some sort of minor conflict about which items (some sort of snack foods I think) belong to which person at this point, due to the chaos from everyone rushing into the building when the rain and wind suddenly started. A (unknown) dark-haired girl in a cross-legged sitting position says that the items I had decided to pick up from the floor belong to her family even though I had the impression that I had dropped them just before. I decide not to protest her possibly erroneous claim.