non-lucid

Morning of June 1, 2015. Monday.



I deliberately semi-lucidly reset my dream about four times. The way I did it involved having to be on my left side and mentally focusing on an area above the center of our bed, which is similar to a routine relating to my more abstract dream sequences. I have often deliberately gone back into the same dream scenario throughout my life by semi-lucid intent and typically made both lucid and non-lucid changes for each version prior to waking for the day.

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Jordan Gavaris of “Orphan Black” is in an unusual production of “Swan Lake” with unfamiliar people (other than a younger version of my wife Zsuzsanna) and at one point is wearing a white bodysuit (though people seem to change costumes quickly while still on the stage). The stage is mostly like a large platform that is elevated and centered very high above the audience and access is via one corner that is much like a circus trapeze setup. I do not seem to be directly involved in the performance even though I am on stage most of the time. Unused stage props and equipment remain on the stage at all times. The only way that any members of the audience far below could see the stage is by way of monitors near ground level, though I am not directly aware of any cameras nearby.

Although I am somewhat wary of the edges of the stage, it seems safe enough. At one point, Jordan and a few others ride in a sleigh-like vehicle that looks like a white swan, which is being pulled by a rope by a machine on one side of the stage. I am perceiving and copying (to a lesser extent) Jordan’s mood in his wariness about being too close to the edge of the platform at times, but he does not fall.

In one of the last resets, an unknown male climbs up to the platform from far below. I am not sure if he is involved in the production though he watches for a time. Oddly, I get the impression he may also be a known serial killer (something to do with his appearance seeming slightly familiar as such) but I am not that worried, because there are so many other people around. In all versions of my dream, I begin to feel an intense exhilaration at being so high up even though there is a vague sense of the whole setup possibly being precarious and an awareness that people could easily fall to their death at any moment, especially in going near the edges of the platform.

In the last reset, the platform seems higher than ever. When I look down at one area, the audience is so far away, I can barely discern individual people. It seems somewhat like a football stadium at this point (though about four times the distance from the center), with the platform elevated from the center of the field. The curious sensations of giddiness and exhilaration continue, though not enough to be disorienting. I do not become fully lucid at any point even though I was aware enough to reset my dream a few times. Additionally, there is the typical indoor-outdoor ambiguity, where I seem to be in an indoor and outdoor setting simultaneously. For example, the “curtains” which seem to be at a distance and impossibly large, also seem integrated as the “sky” at times.

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

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Morning of May 28, 2015. Thursday.



In this dream, I am living with my wife Zsuzsanna and children in, I believe, Brisbane, in a more populated area and where the houses seem closer together. Over time, there is vague concern over some sort of military conflict.

I notice a Cessna (possibly a 172 Skyhawk, though it also seems part of a military airplane composite and with a few clearer 1950s features) flying around above the neighborhood. For some reason, I sense that it will crash, possibly onto our house. It does eventually crash after we hear a bomb go off above, but on a nearby neighbor’s house. Looking closely, I see that the right wing of the airplane (which is facing where Zsuzsanna and I are standing) has a large somewhat trapezoidal hole around the central area, with some thin wiry metal about the perimeter of the hole. This seems to be the only damage to the airplane at this point, the other wing being whole.

I soon notice that Saul Rubinek (as he appears on “Warehouse 13”, the science-fiction television series) is being held and led away by federal agents in blue, all younger, and all of the men having just been on the airplane and then just walking casually away from the crash without the slightest injury or sign of stress. Apparently, Saul had caused the bomb to go off and damage the plane.

I immediately recognize the actor and wave and make a mention to the spectators near the crash site. He looks back at us and smiles and waves and seems cheerful regarding his situation and yet this does not seem to be relevant to a movie or television show being filmed. Apparently, he actually did set off the “real” bomb on the plane even though he is allowed to pause for a moment now and then to say hello to a spectator as if he was presently in an actor’s role.

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

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Morning of May 23, 2015. Saturday.



As I have stated in past entries and within the scope of about 40,000 dreams, I have never once had a realistically threatening vampire or zombie dream. The oneironautic history that I note for the most part, contains only one comedic zombie dream (of the traditional kind - not relevant to the common modern misuse of the word) from 1981, and perhaps a handful of comedic vampire-related dreams.

This dream is no exception. There are only a few vivid scenes but there was nothing threatening at any point. It seems to have been based on a recent reflection of the Keanu Reeves “Dracula” movie from 1992, which seemed partly modeled after the Bugs Bunny cartoon “Transylvania 6-5000” (from 1963) and had too much of a carnival-like essence to feel anything like a horror film. However, the only scene I recall much from the movie was where Dracula and Jonathan Harker (Keanu Reeves) are talking (I think for the first time) and me remembering how incredibly astounded I was, as if I was halfway between being half-asleep and within a cartoon-like fantasy of one recursive panel. Additionally, the 1992 “Dracula” movie strongly reminds me of the Mad Magazine artist style of Sergio Aragones, especially “The Shadow Knows” feature (no relevance to the old-time radio program) where the altered shadow seems to be a “truthful representation” of what a person is thinking as in parts of the movie, making it more like a surreal and juvenile composite of Mad Magazine and the Bugs Bunny cartoon.

In my dream, I am apparently in a castle in Transylvania (on possibly the third or fourth storey), though it somehow feels, at times, like my childhood home in Cubitis (which only had the one ground-level storey). I have been hired by an older Dracula of about sixty years (who seems far more mature and “realistic” than the one from the 1992 movie) to write his memoirs, though the background stories of which are “too long” and extensive to make a feasible biography, so by which I need to make a condensed version based on thousands of old documents and records as well as listening to his stories and thus serving as his “ghost writer” as well as making real-time suggestions about what should be included. These numerous piles of old documents, stacked (each up to about a foot high though varying) at different angles and sitting about on at least four old equidistant wooden tables (of about two and a half feet high), though implied to be in a smaller room in the castle, “feel” during one time period, as if they are in my childhood bedroom in Cubitis, and may possibly represent, in some ways, the numerous dream journals and dream-related materials I had produced at the time (though this is only a guess). There is also a possible play on writing - linking “Pencil vania” with Transylvania and other terms including “trance” and “vein” or “vain” and perhaps even “brotherly love” concerning Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, the idea of brotherly love superseding vampiric threat, though the later hand contact may be implied to be from my father (though I dreamed of both an older brother and my father during this same date in other dreams).

I am eventually seated in an armchair in what would otherwise feel like the northeast corner of the Cubitis living room (though again “actually” in the implied Transylvanian castle) with Dracula seated in another armchair to my right (this being the exact same location I had watched so many episodes of “Shock Theater” as a child, a main opening of which featured a vampire walking through a cemetery with parts of it enshrouded in mist). For a time, he places his left hand over the back of my right hand in a friendly manner. At this point, the sense of touch is greatly augmented and I clearly feel every nuance of his hand and fingers over the back of my hand, as well as the implied strength and even a slight reassurance (I do not really perceive myself as a potential victim as it is - besides, he needs me to ghostwrite his biography). After seemingly several minutes, he removes his hand as if perhaps the heat from my body is “too warm” for him to bear for very long (some sort of odd in-dream logic I guess).

I do not remember much after this, though the concept of a vampire must surely be different in-dream due to their apparent inability to tolerate warmth for very long (possibly a play on one lore being that they cannot be in daylight, which infers warmth). It is also possible that the vampire’s hand over mine is a result of “contact” (or the suggestion of such) by a “newly born” dream entity or tulpa in an attempt to inform me that I am in a dream state (yet which did not trigger lucid awareness as such). The final scene is also possibly one reason why I have never dreamed of vampires in any “serious” context - that is, they cannot be a threat if they cannot tolerate human body heat (even though that does not project the nature of the “real” lore as such - though my own mind’s logic seems to supplant it automatically whenever I am in a dream state).

Morning of May 20, 2015. Wednesday.



I am wandering about in different dream settings in less-defined unfamiliar areas though most of the scenes involve Mottled Houdans. (I have not worked near this kind of chicken in real life since on our exotic chicken farm in Florida when I was about sixteen.) In my dream, they have special attributes; even human-like in some cases. At one point, I touch some smaller Houdans at a (unknown and unfamiliar) chicken farm as they are strutting about in a larger area of the building (which has a dirt floor) and they seem almost like friendly cats in their behavior. For some reason, it dawns on me that they are “more like people” than any other animal (which of course is absurd).

At one point, I seem to be involved in the sales department for Murray McMurray Hatchery in another unfamiliar region, and there is a sort of confrontation with an actor whose name I cannot remember presently, along with about three other unknown males. (He reminds me vaguely of Mason Adams as from “Lou Grant”.) He asks me about another worker at the hatchery, claiming that he never got change back from any of his purchases and asks me if I knew the worker had been cheating him like this over a longer time period. I absentmindedly nod in agreement which causes the other male to think I knew he was cheating him though which is not the case. “I feel really stupid,” I say, and then explain to him that I did not know that that worker was keeping the change each time and only nodded out of absentminded agreement with whatever he was saying at first.

In another scene, I am near a group of Houdan hens. Even though they cannot see because of the feathers over their eyes, they seem to have some sort of sensitivity to be aware of other people and animals supposedly because of higher levels of sentience. I am somewhat surprised at their “skill” to be aware as such, seemingly even more than other animals that can see well.

Later, I am in Cubitis at my father’s chicken shed and checking on all the Houdans (even though we had many other breeds including very unusual experimental hybrids). At one point, in a more public area, I encounter a Houdan rooster that is as tall as I am. I “shake hands” with him (by clasping his wingtip) and the Houdan almost seems human (though does not speak, though there is a vague level of mental communication and mutual understanding). In fact, he seems to have the goal of becoming an astronaut and is eventually wearing a NASA space helmet. His “wife” dances with him for a time and they are somewhat intimate; their “public boldness” of which embarrasses me slightly. However, the rooster soon seems puzzled over why he cannot “kiss” his hen with the space helmet on and kind of just clunks against her beak a couple times at first. There are several unknown people in the area and I start to mingle with the crowd to give the Houdans some privacy. (I do get the feeling that I had been watching our two normal-sized Houdan pets from the late 1970s; Fonzie and Pinky.)

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This dream had scenes of chickens “kissing”, something I do not recall dreaming of before. In fact, the rooster in this particular dream (Fonzie) seemed to represent an aspect of myself, as it was as tall as me and was bordering on an event of lucidity.

One of the photographs that a sister (on my father’s side) had sent shortly after this dream (with no way of me knowing she would send photographs - as we have not had that much communication throughout much of my life) has me holding a chicken (not a Houdan, though black and white) with its beak against my nose.

Morning of May 18, 2015. Monday.



I am in an unknown area, seemingly in late morning, near a small wooden cattle fence but which does not seem very high. However, at times, it seems I am inside my present home on W Street and outside in this unfamiliar area at the same time though it does not seem like a bilocated setting, only ambiguous.

I notice a very unusual bird walking around on the other side of the fence (and in conscious afterthought it looks much like a bittern but the coloring is wrong and it seems unnaturally “stretched” and thin). Upon seeing this unexpectedly unusual bird that I do not recall ever seeing before, I want to show it to members of my family. I start yelling the names of my two youngest sons and my wife Zsuzsanna but there is no response (and my voice sounds quite loud to me). I can see the feet of my second youngest son through a doorway as it seems he is lying on a bed reading (again, it seems as if I am outside and inside my house at the same time though looking through the other doorway of my “house”). I continue to yell their names, becoming a bit frustrated that no one is responding.

Finally, they all come out but by this time the bird is farther from the fence though still visible. I get the impression (though not correct) that it is some kind of ibis and say this aloud, but pronounce it like “ee-bus”, so I start to think that maybe the bird is not that rare or unusual after all. The members of my family do not seem that impressed by the bird.

Meanwhile, this extremely unusual-looking man in our “yard” and who is wearing what reminds me of a Canadian Mountie hat, remains motionless (and slightly leaning forward) and gazing at two extraordinarily odd-looking twin young girls on the other side of the fence (yet none of these people had been seen just moments before). They all seem unrealistically ugly, looking almost like troll dolls (though more naturally human-like). Either the man is making fun of their appearance by somehow making his face look like theirs (and I do not consider how this would not actually be possible), or the girls can manipulate how someone else’s face appears (equally impossible) as well as somehow “freezing” the person they are gazing at (though not necessarily turning them to stone). I am not quite certain which is the case even in conscious afterthought though I am somewhat wary of going near the fence to get a better look at the bird because I also vaguely remember something about Stheno and Euryale, the Gorgons. There seems to be an offset scene where the girls make their faces completely blank (with no eyes, nose, or mouth) and the man seems in distress as his face becomes blank. He pulls his hat down while also seeming to pull at his hair as he seems to be bending forward more, perhaps against his will. The mother of the girls is nearby but her appearance is seemingly normal. Nothing much happens after this, just an unexplainable sense of caution.

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Unusual-looking or unidentifiable large “exotic” birds, though often with heron, egret, stork, or bittern attributes, are a fairly common feature in some dream types since early childhood. They often consistently have the same unusual mood or essence that is not present in other dream types.

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Morning of May 14, 2015. Thursday.



My family and I are presently living where we are in real life, on W Street. I seem to be the only one home at first, though I eventually notice my two youngest sons playing with toy cars on the living room floor in the last segment of my dream. The house in-dream is larger than it is in reality. It seems to be nighttime throughout most of my dream.

I eventually hear someone talking to me very loudly and clearly through the fully closed and locked back door. Thus, as there is obviously a trespasser in our backyard I become very annoyed. At first he seems to be demanding some small change but then seems to be requesting a wine bottle or two (we have no alcohol in reality). I decide to go and tell him off and possibly knock him unconscious with one of my long steel barbells. When I open the back door (while holding a barbell), I see that he is apparently a homeless person with a long beard and perhaps around forty years old. There is also a younger man (of about thirty) farther out and on the east side of the yard to my left. He is seemingly my (unfamiliar) next-door neighbor who seems annoyed by the drunk but also annoyed with me even though he is also trespassing in my yard - as there is a tall wooden fence between the properties that cannot easily be climbed over. I have a brief dream within a dream (though not very clear) of throwing them both over the fence. I close the door and go back into my house, but there are eventually somehow a few other unknown males roaming around in the rooms. I become angrier at this additional set of impositions.

At one point, two unknown females (about eighteen or possibly younger) enter the house through the front door. As with a few other dreams, the window area on the north wall relative to the porch and beyond is almost skeletal or unfinished, allowing passersby to get into the house easier if they choose, by coming in through the “window” or between two vertical planks. The girls seem very dominant and unimpressed by my ordering them to leave and they act as if my house is just a convenient shortcut (though they eventually leave the same way they came in, but return briefly). After a time, I start to walk around, asking aloud “Where’s my pistol?” I notice a couple toy plastic squirt guns on the table and make a note of it. I talk about calling the police, but do not (not even being sure of where the telephone is in this case).

At one point, another unknown male bumps into me when coming through the living room (as I am standing near the front door) to leave via the front door - another intruder who had somehow just gotten in through the back door and wandered through the house until deciding to leave. This elevates my anger and makes me feel displaced in my own home. It feels despicable and ridiculous to have to put up with this.

I eventually see another male near the porch’s (fictional) outer screen door as if trying to get in (it is locked at this point at least). The porch is rendered differently than in real life at this point. It seems more elongated eastward and has a wider and far more logical footpath-facing entrance rather than being very narrow and illogically perpendicularly offset to the left as in reality (thus extremely inconvenient, if not impossible, to use the front entrance for carrying out furniture or larger items, including baby prams - an extraordinarily stupid architectural design for a residence, in fact, requiring furniture to be lifted up and over the higher porch wall by up to three people).

The last male attempting to get into our house (for no particular reason) has a very strange appearance and is also muscular though with odd skin. He has black veins in his forehead that are somewhat reminiscent of plant roots and extend down a bit on the sides of his face (and for a moment I ponder on whether it is some sort of eerie tattoo I am seeing - or perhaps he is somehow not fully human). I open the door and push him back and vividly feel his weight and presence. Out on the street, to my right, are more annoying people who are just mindlessly staring at our house. The level of vividness is quite pronounced to near-lucidity, though I do not become directly lucid at any point. There is no feeling of being actually threatened at any time, just pointlessly imposed upon.

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Morning of May 11, 2015. Monday.



I seem to be in a cold region in a mostly featureless building with little or no furniture. There are more children than adults and it illogically seems to be near either Antarctica or the Arctic region, though that is not certain. Most people seem seated and leaning against a grayish inner wall. The setting remains mostly semi-dark. There seems to be a concern for an unknown length of time about having warmer clothes or more food just to survive from day to day, though the setting does not really seem apocalyptic.

A man who reminds me of Nixon makes a brief (at first) appearance. However, the face is not very realistic, even being somewhat plastic-like, like a mask, and quite pale. It is not a mask though; it is just a “frozen grin” over a somewhat grotesque, almost sadistic visage. At one point, the man lifts his arms up as Nixon used to do but for no particular reason, it seems, though he seems to automatically do it when approached or addressed.

The “Nixon” man seems to be the main authority around the warehouse-like refuge. There is a small plant nursery but not nearly enough to feed the residents. At one point, a ship arrives, requiring certain males to go out and chop away at the ice until the ship gets through in a rather time-wasting zigzagging route. There are mostly only sheep aboard the ship (probably some sort of word play going on here).

The Nixon man goes close to some of the sheep and holds their “chin” to look into their eyes. He tells the captain of the ship to take them all back and I see a rather odd cartoon balloon fading in and out that shows sketchy sheep drawings - they are sitting in chairs and playing cards. “Send back the sheep,” says Nixon, “so that they may fulfill their dreams of white houses and picket fences” (“white house” likely a play on “White House” and “picket” related to picketing/protesting). I see a one-panel cartoon of a sheep mowing the lawn in “Far Side” style (possible reference to sheep shearing - not sure if it came from an actual cartoon image I once saw - I know there were a lot of “sheep as humans” gags).

I am aware that all of the adults and children will die, but there is a strange focus on whether or not it will be by starvation or lack of warm clothes. I also have a brief thought that they may be the last humans on Earth, even though, again, it somehow does not seem apocalyptic (at least not a major event).

Similar to another recent dream, I only see a head floating near my dream’s final segment. In this case, Nixon’s entire body and much of the head vanishes, leaving a Guy Fawkes mask that moves side to side in a corner of an empty room (in midair at head height) as if to say “no” (although I do not get the impression it is saying “no”; just a result of some sort of momentum with no intelligence of any kind being present). I am trying to “remember” if the whole Earth is frozen.



There is a sustained hypnopompic focus on the misuse of the word “carnivore” to describe non-vegetarians or to describe anyone that eats meat at all. (I do not eat much cooked red meat and do not care much for steak - did not eat hardly any steak prior to around age nineteen. Also, lamb meat makes me immediately ill due to its horrid greasiness and I cannot understand how people can eat it unless in a survival situation.) The ridiculous misuse of the word “carnivore” (in the uneducated colloquial sense; in the same light as calling a turtle a “gopher” or a skunk a “polecat” as they do mainly in the south in America) makes me realize how critical thinking skills are completely lacking in some people just to serve a fringe agenda and to continuously belittle or troll others. A vegetarian does not usually eat meat (and I have nothing against vegetarians), so a carnivore would technically not ever eat vegetables or in fact, anything but fresh uncooked meat. Reason does not dawn on such people, though, even in diverse situational examples related to survival scenarios and it is quite unfortunate. This is something that sometimes goes through my mind, this time influenced by a few things I recently saw on the media related to the supposed torture of all sheep by all shearers (notice I said “all”) when sheared, which was rightfully discredited and debunked by the news staff (though certainly not to imply that the media is always honest or that all shearers are competent).

Ironically, sheep are used as an argument for sentient beings and their (animal) rights while some of the same mentalities call people “sheep” in a very negative context; hypocrisy at its finest. I pointed this out back in 1991 to penfriends from California and it actually dawned on them that my commentary was correct and that the realization caused them to feel a bit strange and less “militant” and “anti-human” in their views.

Morning of May 8, 2015. Friday.



This dream is a very good example of how even the best, most focused scripting can go awry once entering a dream state (though it depends on the form of meditation, “automatic” affirmation acceptance, and concurrent imagery). Although over the years, I have often noticed more and more “automatic” personal control over many dreams (even non-lucid ones) and the growing knowledge (with increasing levels of precision) of how my mind and attitude creates dreams, there is often another facet of my real-time (present) experience that becomes triggered somehow, though which is still solely of my waking character. In this case, it was probably being annoyed in real life by thoughtless impositions on our family by NBN workers. Aligning the transitions between different levels of consciousness to more fluidly move through them (from the onset of fully conscious hypnagogia I have had since early childhood) while remaining my true self is not that difficult at times (even at some levels of otherwise disruptive environmental noise), but the most curious thing still is how memory completely fails on such a grand scale even after only a few seconds in some cases. Sleep paralysis is still usually a very pleasant experience (unlike what I have read from other sources) and is automatically triggered by exertion or so-called overexercise, and oddly, overexercise, even at my present age, brings feelings of being healthier and more relaxed even if I had earlier felt ill.

In my dream, I am walking in an unknown area, which seems like some sort of composite between a part of this town (in the commercial district), the south side of La Crosse, and where I went to school in Florida. I am walking down the street, seemingly with the intent to study a large notebook I am carrying (probably a type of dream journal) while relaxing in a nearby park.

I seem to be walking on Bourbong Street on the left side, heading east, growing closer to the edge of the urban area. As I walk, I notice a young Asian male on my left, who is seated on the sidewalk and leaning against the outer wall (near a corner) of a business building, fairly close to an intersection. He seems quite happy. On his right is an unknown female (though her appearance is not that clear).

I soon find myself in a park that reminds me of the playground where I went to school in Florida. The park is very crowded though there are areas to sit down. I sit down and lean against a tree and open my notebook. Curiously, on the left side when I open it, there is a clear display page containing a large photograph (about two-thirds the size of the A4 page) that shows the imagery I had just seen of the male leaning against the building. I do not consider this as impossible or untimely at all. I look through my book and notice various pages that are “pieces” of my personal history and ideas.

After a time, I notice the presence of an unknown female on my right, possibly a college student who came to the park to study, and who seems to be fairly “dominant” and self-aware. I eventually notice that I am somehow sitting farther from the tree (with no memory of having moved) and feeling a bit imposed upon. I turn back to the girl and bring attention to the fact that she had supposedly been pushing me away from where I was seated near the tree (and I supposedly only moved little by little out of politeness and to avoid any potential confrontation). I seem a bit angry, but not aggressive in any way. She does not react other than giving me a curious look as if perhaps I have lost my mind and simply moved away from her on my own for no particular reason (in fact, she is facing perpendicular to where I am and had probably not really pushed me physically at any point). She remains where she is, appearing stoic and not offended in any way. I notice she has a notebook much like mine and seems to be studying the pages carefully.

In fact, I had deliberately scripted such a scene (up until the time when I become annoyed) where I would be given healing energies as well as answered questions and possible information about the future by a representation of the universe when “she” appeared. This is certainly not the first time that I threw a monkey wrench into my own unfolding script (though this does not happen in fully lucid dreams) and it likely will not be the last.

Morning of May 6, 2015. Wednesday.

Dream #: 17,670-01. 56 second read.

Zsuzsanna and I are walking in a metropolitan area in daylight, probably a mix of La Crosse (America) and Brisbane (Australia). We are looking for a bookstore or a video rental store.

A tiger walks on the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street in the same direction as us. However, the animal is never closer than about half a block away from us. I do not feel threatened by the tiger’s presence, only vaguely wary.I eventually talk to an unfamiliar young woman standing behind a small unsheltered table adjacent to the curb. It seems to be both an information stand and a sales counter. She is selling small jewelry items and possibly train tickets but is mostly giving directions to pedestrians.
She sees the tiger across the street, about one block down at this time. She seems wary but remains at her table. I soon see a second large tiger approaching her from behind, without her knowledge, from about ten feet away. I wonder whether I should tell her and how she might react, but my dream fades from here.

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Animals primarily correspond with my anticipation of achieving physicality upon waking, with wild animals more of a waking alert regarding my need to move.

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Interestingly, both Zsuzsanna and someone who lives in Brisbane whom I have never met in waking life also dreamt of tigers on this date. (Tigers are common in my dreams.)

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Morning of May 5, 2015. Tuesday.



There is some sort of small rectangular container (not that deep and perhaps large enough to store four to six stacks of playing cards) on a desk in our (last) house on Barolin Street which seems to be for commercial endeavors yet not directly connected with us in any way - which of course seems a bit odd in afterthought - as if a part of our house just incidentally happens to be open to the general public for no particular reason (sparsely recurring concept but more common over ten years ago). Supposedly, it is some sort of lottery where a person buys a card - which I think could cost as much as twenty dollars (or perhaps less) and apparently circles one word in each of three columns, such as “bill” or “beak” in one column, which I see fairly clearly - though it also seemingly has features like a scratch-off ticket. It seems the words you circle have something to do with exponentially increasing your winnings if only the right one is circled in each column. We do not make any kind of a profit for hosting this lottery as far as I know (and I am not sure who the setup actually belongs to), and no other person comes into our house to buy one of the cards at any point, so all in all, the scenario makes little sense. We actually “buy” a couple cards (I am not sure how the money transfers) and I look at them more closely but we do not win anything (yet) as far as I know. The front of the cards have different closeup bird scenes and the back has the scratch-off and circling area. The upper half of the back is yellow. The word-circling area is near the middle.

Later on, I start to think that we could just take some of the cards and see if they are winners (as there is no one else around to see what we are doing in our own home). At one point, I find a smaller series of cards under one stack that is slightly different and I start to think about why that is. These other cards are mostly the same in design but are a little thicker, have a glossier surface, and are orange on the upper half of the back instead of yellow. For a short time, I wonder if they are counterfeits (possibly made in China). However, it may also be that they are just a different run or later printing. Still, I only keep several of the other type to check for winning ones. (Here, I will mention that there is no in-dream back story or memory of how the lottery came to be set up in our home in this way, and the puzzle about the other type and where they came from is not solved.)

It eventually seems that about five or six of the cards we take (out of about a dozen or more) are winners, though a few are of only a smaller value. However, I then start to worry that they will know whether or not a person actually bought them by way of an automatic checking of some sort of identification code that is only recorded and stored when a card is legitimately purchased from the right source. I am not certain of this, but I start to think that I may not do this, thinking of putting them back. (This idea of just taking something that is already in our house though linked to a commercial business that is not related to us is something I vaguely recall dreaming of in the past, but not with the specifics at this time.)

Morning of May 4, 2015. Monday.



I am standing on a street corner in an unknown area, possibly in early afternoon, the intersection on my left. I am with my wife but there are at least four other mostly unfamiliar people in the immediate area including a male about twenty years older than me to my left. There is at least one other male who I think may be a coworker named Randy from over twenty years ago. There are also at least two older women in front of us. I think we may be waiting for a bus or possibly a series of taxis.

Eventually, I find myself holding a larger metal toy black car (possibly some sort of 1960s limousine), seemingly only a bit bigger than a Hot Wheels car. Over time, I see that the hood and trunk (bonnet and boot) both open. Under the hood, I am able to make out the details of the small faux engine, but there is not that much to it. Still, it is interesting to see all the moving parts. The doors also open. I eventually see that the front part opens downward somewhat like a lid to expose the front seat area. The dashboard and steering wheel section moves apart and down from the rest of the area, somewhat hinge-like (similar to when I took a few Matchbox Cars apart in real life). I accidentally move something near the seats a certain way and the steering wheel falls to the sidewalk. The older male picks it up for me and by this time I notice that there are two driver’s seats, including an additional steering wheel, the other in back. I do not really focus on how unusual this is.

I start thinking about real cars and tell the others that I own the car from the movie “Christine” (a red 1958 Plymouth Fury, which I have driven in a number of dreams over the years). I get the impression that I could bring this car to me with a remote control (though I am not sure that I have it in my pocket) but then “remember” that there are many other cars I could bring to the area - including the “real” version of the toy car I have (though apparently with only one steering wheel). Not much happens after this, but I do contemplate helping a couple others get to their destination (though I do not use any sort of remote and no real cars are ever visible). No bus or taxi ever shows up.

Night of May 3, 2015. Sunday.



I move directly into a very vivid lucid dream while still half-awake as I often do after watching or mentally exploring the hypnagogic visionary realms - and eventually am within my dream body with little effort. The first thing I focus on (for a longer period of time) is the silhouette of an old wagon wheel (probably stuck only about one-third or less into the ground), which had been near the “portal” as some sort of “signpost” of sorts (probably a good lucid dream trigger depending on where you live). Other than that, there is mostly only rain visible. I do eventually see human forms (mostly female, some carrying parcels) moving about now and then, but they are not running or ducking from the rain, yet which is so heavy, it is hard to make out any significant details. I feel very good and very peaceful and relaxed even as I contemplate finding my beautiful wife’s feminine form to indulge in sensuality and love-making with in the middle of the “street”, which is actually much like the main set of “Gunsmoke” (the old long-running television series) from what I can tell. Because my physical form is somewhat ambiguous, I can move in different ways from place to place, sometimes in-body, sometimes disembodied (with far more control than I used to have). The imagery seems to go from grayish to subtle lines of gold at times.

There is eventually what I first very briefly perceive as a very light hypnic jerk in my left leg (though it is more like a wave of extreme pleasure evenly moving through it), that takes me out of my dream body (though the imagery is still there as I am conscious again). This feeling is so ecstatic that I actually sigh “wow” fairly loudly and my wife (in real life) asks me what happened. From there, I mostly fall back into wandering the “Gunsmoke” set in very dense rain, which becomes more and more of a darker yet golden infusion.

Morning of May 1, 2015. Friday.



Much of this dream was a bit too abstract to describe the first part of correctly. All the members of my family and I are making things to sell. We seem to be at a picnic table outside in our backyard. The most vivid part does not make any sense. I have made a salad with a lot of leafy green vegetables in it as well as other ingredients such as slices of tomatoes. I pick up a short section of a large even branch from the ground which has seemingly been sawed on both ends. It is a little less than the diameter of my arm. (We do have a short log in our yard in reality but it is bigger than the piece in my dream.) I put the salad on the branch (though I think of it as a small log in my dream) and hold it onto the branch piece with the curved piece of wood (which fits halfway around the circumference of the branch) over all of it. I notice that the wood piece has three screws on it which are aligned to three holes in the branch (one near each side and one in the middle). By tightening the screws, the salad will be kept in place on the surface of the branch by the curved piece of wood until it is ready to be eaten. I notice a small jumping spider crawling up the side of the branch and shake it off - as people will probably not buy it if it has a spider on the salad. (I have found that the term “salad log” exists, so maybe there is a vague association, though I do not recall thinking of this term at any previous time.)

In another section of possibly a different dream sequence, I am doing something involving the usage of postage stamps while sitting on a bed, which seem to have to be American postage stamps to do what I need to do, but there is one point where I cannot find them again (which does not make much sense as I had just seen them previously, having had at least a couple near me). I seem to be in my sister’s house on Loomis Street and am possibly a teenager again. I am not exactly sure of what I am doing. It may relate to drawing or tracing. At one point, I am standing in a featureless semi-dark room and hug my sister and tell her that I love her even though I am also aware to some extent that she has died in reality. She seems very old and frail. There is some sort of concern about where certain stamps are. I pick various foreign ones off the floor at one point. They seem to be kept in a few different smaller cylindrical containers. My sister talks about them but is not sure of their location.

In another part of my dream sequence, I am in a large room with several other people. Many of the people are unknown and of different races. We are all watching “Lost” on a television. However, it is a later version of “Lost”, yet which is a drama concerning earlier situations on the island. Over time, I notice that John Locke is not being played by Terry O'Quinn but a much younger actor. I notice that he has face paint of black and red (and yellow at one point), the black paint being mostly on his forehead and coming down to just below his eyes. He is amusingly dressed and speaking like a stereotypical pirate for some reason and says “Rrrrrr…” at the end of at least one comment he makes. I am a bit annoyed by this version of “Lost” having the same characters but played by different actors, my annoyance growing over time, which I express to the others. I even look it up on the Internet in-dream to see who the actor is that now plays John Locke. However, I cannot remember the original actor’s name and become a bit frustrated over knowing when the different actor took over the role. I see that there is a (fictional) eighth season of “Lost” and possibly more beyond that. In fact, the eighth season seems to have been the last one to star Terry O'Quinn, the plot of the last episode of season eight seeming to relate to Kate and John becoming lost.

Finally, I am at my older brother (deceased) Earl’s house. I do not see him, but his wife Cindy is there. There are a lot of other people in the room including their children and unknown younger people. I am annoyed because Cindy is blocking my way to the front door (even though we are more near the center of the living room near a large table) but I do not show my frustration. I had taken a couple vitamins that are more like headache tablets and there is white powder on the table which I am trying to put back into a capsule or at least elsewhere. (I have never been able to willingly swallow pills of any kind in my life, even very small ones, so I crush headache tablets up into white powder and put them in a drink when I need to take them although I more often use a form of special meditation to erase one when I can.)

In one final dream event, an unknown male knocks on the door and seems to have something important to tell me. However, it soon turns out to be nonsense (which I cannot remember) and he becomes distracted, going elsewhere. This was slightly precognitive in that we actually did have a rare visitor shortly after but he left fairly quickly after knocking. He went to the next house over and was probably selling pay television subscriptions or possibly Internet-related services.

Morning of April 27, 2015. Monday.



As I have stated in other entries, I have come to learn that many in-dream events (especially those in final scenarios) are little more than a metaphor for the sleeping, dreaming, and waking processes themselves (though may have other viable and eventually validated associations, including precognition and visually exact remote viewing). This was obvious to me even as a child and this dream is a good example of that.

In my dream, I am in my home (though rendered as being much larger and more spacious for where the game console is) and I am playing some sort of first person computer game which is probably projected halfway up onto the southwest wall so that the top of the image of the playing field is near the ceiling - this setup of which is sparsely recurring but which I have never witnessed in reality. As I have rarely played computer games in real life over the past several years (other than “Doom” and “Age of Empires”), my dream is lacking more significant real-life associations. I am not even sure if it is a first person shooter. There is someone else in my dream, a younger unknown male, and I am possibly testing the game for him or his company as the game seems to be in a debug mode.

As I maneuver through the maze-like game, there is really nothing to do except move and turn through hallways, though sometimes with unusual transparent “rods” at a corner stopping me from more freely making a turn - it is almost like moving past and pulling at a passive diagonally positioned wire-frame sea anemone (positioned near a set of about four wider steps to another hallway entrance) though nothing breaks; everything falls back into position if my maneuvering stretches parts of the environment (which is not that often). The look of the game is similar to the setting of “Doom” (though without any enemies) except there is no weapon in the foreground and the scenery has a semi-transparent appearance with wire-frame rendering in some areas (though not very extensive in detail) and mostly everything is a very light blue. Still, I am enjoying my success in getting through many hallways and ninety-degree turns though again, little else happens. In some cases, a wall facing me is slightly hard to distinguish from the entrance to a hallway.

Finally, making one turn to my left, a fairly short human-like furry “monster” of a darker blue emerges from a normal wooden door (not a real threat as it is just imagery in a computer game) though just stands in the doorway, and I soon begin to wake, being somewhat annoyed that this means that the game is over and that I need to start again from the beginning even though the figure (vaguely seeming more human-like over time) does not do anything. There is no option to shoot anything or even “attack”, apparently.

Playing a computer game in a dream could be a metaphor for a type of less involved dreaming and separating yourself from a deeper or more personal dream state (in this case, likely from sleeping a bit too long and literally needing to wake up and stretch - as my game involved walking around and exploring and wire-frame structures that were stretching) just as dreaming of watching television is not being directly in one’s dream but being an outside observer and not integrated into one’s imagination more intimately.

Doors opening most often represent waking or the need to wake - especially leaping through the doorway to escape from something and waking up at that exact moment (though sometimes relative to shifting in in-dream awareness when going through a particular doorway, which could actually draw you deeper into the dream). There are exceptions. “The Furry Orange Monster” (from October 30, 1970) ends in a very similar manner as this dream (though that one had two distinct layers of precognition). At any rate, the appearance of the monster in the doorway represents my conscious self waking my dream self (even though I do not see myself as a “monster” - this is likely just an incidental association with the computer game scenario and not having seen any characters in the game prior to this - though bear in mind it did become more human-like during the waking process). As one added note on “The Furry Orange Monster”, I strongly detect an in-dream “replacement” metaphor. This time it represents me, although in my older dream, it turned out to be my older brother Jim wearing a Halloween costume. I have experienced many replacement metaphors in my life - it is another aspect of dreaming (though probably not that common) that I have never seen anyone else write about.

This becomes more obvious from a common lucid dream ability I used to use a lot in the 1980s and early 1990s; that is, closing a door with a wave of my hand and using telekinesis often made my dream far more “automatic” in my control of it in general, as I had then “closed” (”weakened”) the metaphor for waking up, causing a higher awareness in my dream self each time I performed the act.

Morning of April 26, 2015. Sunday.



I am completing an algebra ii task on a TI-84 Plus graphing calculator. It is the most recent task worked on in real life and results in the drawing of a dragonfly using several graphed equations. However, the apparent result is an actual dragonfly that emerges from the front edge. I feel slightly guilty at creating a couple malformed dragonflies that may suffer for a short time before dying. One is too big since I forgot to reset the zoom to the default and as a result, its wings are slightly truncated though it seems to become more intelligent and manages better than the other ones. I am unsure if the buzzing that begins to occur is coming from one of the dragonfly’s wings or from the calculator shorting out, as a small flame shoots from the side with a “pop”. Perhaps a battery has exploded, but this does not seem to be the case.

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Typified as having exit flight waking symbolism as the dragonfly emerges from calculator and flies away. Critical thinking skills waking prompt present (calculator). No failed flight symbolism as first malformed dragonflies not verified to have died. There is an association with neural energies as the “buzzing” insect

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