non-lucid

Morning of April 25, 2015. Saturday.



I am working for some sort of movie production company and we are actively filming scenes for at least two different American caper movies on the same day, holding a camera while in a pickup truck and in other outdoor settings. The movies seem to have attributes of “The Sting” (from 1973 though set in September 1936) and “Paper Moon” (also technically a caper film from 1973 and also apparently and coincidentally set in 1936). At one point, the passenger-side door in front keeps opening and partly closing, causing the driver (a member of the film crew) to zigzag all over the street. There are a few other filming mishaps but nothing that dangerous. (I believe there is an incidental play on the name Addie Loggins from “Paper Moon”, relative to both adding production costs and logging in to a website.)

There is also a subplot not related to the main theme. There are a few teenagers hanging out in what appears to be the last week of school (over time). A thin blonde male seems partly attracted to a light-haired female but does not always acknowledge her. This seems more as if it is being filmed in the 1950s rather than 1936. None of the characters in my dream are in any way familiar. I do not know any names in this scenario, either. A shorter dark-haired male is also interested in the same girl and at one point seems angry and sad about the other male ending up with her.

This is where events become atypical, although I have had similar dreams many years back, mostly only in 1990. Over time, I somehow occupy the bodies of the two main characters, both the male and the female, for fairly short periods for each and with an extremely augmented sense of touch and heightened general physical awareness. During each change, I actually intimately feel their emotions and loving thoughts about each other even though they are complete strangers to me personally. It does not seem all that odd to me in-dream and it is almost like I am an entity that needs to “remind” them of their destiny at certain points by becoming one of them for a short time and experiencing life through their individual perspectives. At some points though, I seem to be disembodied just on the periphery of their physical body.

Morning of April 24, 2015. Friday.



In a less physically defined state, I am “remembering” my completion of the most recent education progress report. Everything seems as is in reality except that I am aware I have added an mp3 file on the companion CD. It is the recording of Roger Miller’s “Walking in the Sunshine” which I heard very often in my childhood. I pause and think on this for awhile. The CD is already made (false memory) so I cannot remove it if I need to, because it begins to dawn on me that I should not have this recording in the report since I had not written and recorded it (typical goofy in-dream “logic”). Over time, I mentally “fix” this and the CD is as it should be.

Morning of April 23, 2015. Thursday.

Dream #: 17,657-02. Reading time: 2 min 15 sec.



My sleeping dreaming mind is separate from my unconscious mind (and over twenty years of memory) in an altered version of Loomis Street. Instead of Marilyn dying recently (though she did not die while living at Loomis Street), it is about 1978. My brother-in-law Bob’s appearance matches that time. I am in their house, sleeping on the floor in the south room, with my head west near the windows. The bathroom is more like the bathroom of our present home. When I am in the bathroom, I vaguely recall my identity.

I am building a new foundation of instinctual dreaming practice (to deliberately enhance my dreams). I have placed about one and a half inches of blue electrician’s tape on the door vertically, on the right side above the doorknob at eye level. I test it by going close to make sure the tape center is at eye level. It may produce more personal and vivid dreams. I adjust it by sliding it around on the door like a magnet, which would be impossible. I vaguely think about my brother-in-law questioning why I put it there, but he does not. He passes me in the small hallway. I want to make sure it remains in place. If it does not, there is the concern that my next dreams will be less expressive of my desires. There is also something to the left of the blue tape (near the middle and at the same height). I am unsure of what it is. It seems like metal, related to the tape strip’s function.

Later, I am again lying on the floor to rest. There are many miscellaneous objects near my blankets, near cardboard storage boxes. I start thinking about why I did not go to Marilyn’s funeral. It seems strange I did not go, like lost time. It seems related to how only a few people (mostly female relatives) went. Perhaps her husband did not go. It does not enter my imaginary dream self’s erroneous mind that I did not go because I live in Australia.

While settling on the floor to sleep, I notice big ants close to the wall, near my head. There are also at least two big ants near my feet. I trap those under a Lego brick. I crush a few others, and none of them get close enough to bite. I slowly wake in the position I had been in my dream. My waking-life memory and identity slowly return, and I feel relieved and happy about being with Zsuzsanna.

My dream’s dynamics stem from a lesser urge to wake and use the bathroom, but the ants finally increase my attention to contemplate where I am, getting me to think more about where I am sleeping, and my emerging consciousness activates. Ants coming out of an anthill is an analogy to emerging from the dream state.

---

The rest stems from instinctual dreaming and dynamics to prevent associations with waking life. Because thinking skills are not viable in subliminal space, there is confusion. I mix several concepts into an amalgam. The amalgam includes a loose association with my use of a cassette TAPE to script dreams. That distorts into electrician’s tape. It is additionally confused with the stickiness of magnets. A door isolates the imaginary dream self from conscious identity but can be used to exit the dream or vivify and sustain it.

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Morning of April 16, 2015. Thursday.



My wife and I are seemingly living in an unknown city (our children are not present so it seems to be related to the time period after we first met). We are living in a (unfamiliar) squarish one-room apartment in a commercial district (probably on the corner with regard to the placement of the windows and front door) that seems to have been a store at one time in the recent past. There is a stove in a corner near the opposite end of the room from some larger windows. It is fairly close to a bed. It seems a bit annoying and odd to be living in such a small one-room apartment (though does not really seem that cramped in some ways) yet I still feel somewhat cheerful just in living with my beautiful wife and thus feel we are okay in this situation regardless. At one point, I need to do some writing, related to either my dream journals or lists of affirmations or ideas. There is apparently not much paper available so I decide to take down and use several store sale banners that are still hanging from the ceiling (which remind me vaguely of - or distort partly into - shower curtains that equidistantly repeat a small bird-head motif). It is probably early evening. People are walking around just outside on the sidewalk and I feel somewhat wary about living in an area with more people and traffic.

At one point, when I open the front door to check it, which leads directly to the public sidewalk, I notice that it does not quite close properly. Soon, the bottom hinge (to my right) becomes detached. (Distorted, too-small, “incomplete”, or ill-fitting doors have been fairly common in my dreams since childhood.) Somehow, I manage to fit the door into the doorway so that it looks somewhat normal. Still, I clearly contemplate a scene where someone will probably come along and kick in the door and get into our apartment (and I imagine it happening before morning). This is not because of someone noticing the unhinged area, but because people apparently do this fairly often. I mention something to my wife of how the door did not even last during our first week of rental. It is unlikely the building’s owner will fix it, so I think about doing it the next day. (This is actually based on a real-life situation - our bathroom door is loose on the bottom hinge and actually came off from that area of the doorway.)

At one point, there is knowledge of an Emailing system that works by teleporting flash drives to different locations (not directly to a computer, but onto a table for some reason, which you can then place in a computer to use - not very feasible or necessary). I have a false memory of having exchanged messages in this way with best friend Toby T for a few weeks. For some reason, however, I prepare to send an older flash drive (which is oddly shaped, somewhat like an arrowhead) that seems to be me addressing and acknowledging him for the first time after many years. I think about whether or not he will be puzzled by this act and the letter contents and perhaps become annoyed or angry that I had forgotten we had been writing to each other for a time already. I decide to send it anyway - perhaps he will think it was a delay in the teleportation system. (Nothing concerning this scene is addressed in-dream again.)

There is another scene which seems to be a sort of continuation of a previous section of my dream that was not quite clear, where I had apparently played a secondary role in a television special or miniseries. This involves going into a strange multidimensional matrix of at least four rows of distinct “rooms” (yet all part of one large “room” with transparent “waves” in some areas) - an area that people teleport in and out of (though I had just walked there). In the far side of the large room is a section where I see and recognize the male actor I had been working with (in afterthought he reminds me of my foreman from an old factory job but also reminds me of a celebrity I do not presently recall). He appears to be getting a haircut or perhaps having makeup added for a filming event. I wave at him and he acknowledges me in a formal manner but I feel a bit strange at not knowing my job concerning the show and feel a bit left out (hoping that I am not considered as being forgetful of the project - though I also get the feeling that I do not have much purpose relating to going behind the stages of the production - thus I am probably not supposed to be there). I have a vague awareness that one of the other parts of the room has something to do with strip clubs or prostitutes (which is probably a forced association with my foreman’s name being “Hooker”). There are a few other people around involved in completely different things, one seemingly a greeting card business.

At this point, my dream becomes a bit more vivid and cohesive. An unknown male walks into the room directly from the public sidewalk outside (opening a glass and metal door) and starts his sales pitch about a device he is selling while sitting in a chair a short distance across from where I am sitting. It looks like a television remote but acts as a laser weapon. He seems nervous and excited yet also confident in some ways, though his behavior is informal and annoying, especially when he starts asking me personal questions that have nothing to do with his attempt to sell me the item. I start yelling obnoxiously (though am really not that angry) and calling him various rude names, asking him if he thinks I am Captain Kirk and if I really need the phaser he is trying to sell me. Several other people in the room laugh at this scenario. In a way, I feel a bit sorry that I have behaved like this but I do say that he should not try to sell anything in this manner in a public place.

The final scene involves walking back (at night) to the corner one-room apartment my wife and I live in in my dream. I notice several Latina girls in the area. One is on the actual corner of the sidewalk (near the street intersection to my left) and another near the window of the building to my right. They seem to be mentally measuring something (undefined) across the sidewalk relative to the distance between where they are standing (and possibly something related to the number of sidewalk sections or divisions/lines). I ask them if they need any help. This makes them extremely annoyed and they start yelling as if I had propositioned them, though they keep yelling various Spanish phrases. A black male appears and starts joking about them and how much they like me (which is supposedly why they are yelling at me). The male and I soon leave the area and appear to be walking south down a street in La Crosse about three blocks west of my old boarding house (though the area is mostly residential in reality and has no larger buildings as such). We keep cheerfully laughing and joking with each other about their behavior, though I yell “Nada loco!” back at them several times as they are still yelling out. I have the seemingly clear idea that I am saying that they have no mind. However, “nada loco” translates literally to “nothing crazy”, so I am actually humorously yelling that they are not being crazy, the opposite of what I intended. I get the idea that “loco” means “mind” (instead of “crazy”) though have no idea in afterthought why it was like this. This is just a typical mix-up due to lack of thinking skills and proper memory associations in dreams.

Morning of April 15, 2015. Wednesday.



This was a long but uneventful dream where I am living on Loomis Street in my older sister (deceased) Marilyn’s house. My sister is as she appeared over twenty years ago for the most part. I seem to be only around eighteen years old. The main theme of my dream is some sort of realization that I actually have no home (even though my belongings are in my sister’s house) but instead, somehow live in the night and take to the sky at the end of each day to “go home” (recurring). I seem to have no memory of events that occurred since around the end of 1990 (which is proof that the so-called “storehouse of memory” - contrary to what people claim - is not active during sleep in many cases - with over twenty years of fulfilling history not accessed or “remembered” at all). When I wake, I am always grateful for my wife and family and that I live in a house, and even that I am “still me” even though I am much older.

Still, in such dreams, there is a deeply personal sense of the ability to survive just by flying into the night sky and spending each night soaring about, never tiring. Part of this characterization of myself may relate to how all of my beliefs and experiences are so vastly different than that of anyone in mainstream society. It is not so much like “living in darkness” (or “living within night”) as it is living and moving far beyond what the majority of people have ever known or experienced - that is, living almost entirely beyond the “comfort zones” and self-imposed limitations of others. That seems to be the valid metaphor in this type of dream - to soar and live in mystery with a great feeling of comfort and a sense of trust and natural continuity - to not care at all about what other people think or believe - because of what has already been experienced and validated in so many positive ways.

There is also an unusual conversation in the last part of my dream which seems to last a fair amount of time. My sister and I are playing some sort of card game, I think, but sometimes when I say something, she has a look of surprise on her face and starts talking about how what I said had been in her dream of the night before. It seems curious (in conscious afterthought) to be in a dream, not lucid in any way, and hear someone else in my dream referring to my dream in a way that is assumed to be “real” and being an event that was precognitive to their apparent earlier dream (again, all the while not realizing I am dreaming myself). I do not think I have had a dream of this particular nature before where someone else assumed my dream to be real, yet also a confirmation of a supposedly foreshadowed scene from their dream. It is rather amusing in a way.

Morning of April 13, 2015. Monday.



My family and I seem to be living back on Duffy Street, though the apartment unit on the other side does not seem present. However, one feature also reminds me of the very large antique wooden expanding table in the living room in Cubitis. I notice a large envelope (somewhat like an A4 manilla envelope though white) from the Department of Education on the table and I see that it had not been opened. I decide to open it as it may be important information. I notice an email address on a piece of paper inside but do not note what it is.

Somehow, even though the envelope was fairly thin, a thick though digest-size catalog comes out. It is a softcover book listing educational resources (including math and science lab items including model dinosaurs) as well as playground equipment. Looking through it, I see that the print is so small that it is inherently unreadable. I go outside into the backyard (which then seems somewhat like being on either Barolin Street or our present house rotated ninety degrees to the west) and show it to my wife and youngest son. My son says that even he cannot see what anything says after my wife says she cannot read the tiny print. As in another recent dream, some of the writing seems related to statistics tables or other data and is printed sideways on the page.

Yet again, this was related to something my wife was seeing and thinking about which I could not have known about, yet which entered my dream - something that has been happening almost continuously, and it has clarified for me why I dreamt so often of my “mystery girl” (validated to have been my wife in every detail) long before we made contact (and oddly enough, seemingly before she was born). I now wonder, along with the conscious Blue Pearl event (which seems to be some form of telepathy) how many other people are bonded this way and perhaps either know or have no idea (or even have an iota of belief in such things). I have read of others experiencing the Blue Pearl, but not so obviously linked to another person and validated as such (it is often attributed to “higher entities”, even “angels” of some sort - also related to healing and a feeling of ecstasy).

In this case, it was related to my wife looking at a book (which my youngest son had wanted): "What the Dinosaurs did Last Night" (Refe & Susan Tuma) and contemplating the nearly unreadable tiny print (especially for a children’s book). I found it hard to believe that a children’s book would have phrases in print that seems only about half the size of the print in adult paperback novels and bordering on being too small to even see. Obviously, very poor judgement was used in the making of the book (relative to type), though the images and plot are fairly well done. Looking it up on the Internet, even the first Amazon review I see reports “The font size is way too small”.

In another dream or offset section of this dream, I walk into the garage, which now seems related to the apartment on Duffy Street (again, the other apartment unit and the adjoining garage not present). I need to get a printer to print some pages of affirmations and dream-making declarations. I see my (fictional) long cream-colored printer. I go to get it out and notice that there must have been a bit of flooding in the garage. There is something that resembles a cup-holder on the right side of the printer and where at least two sets of cords are connected from the bottom of that section. When I pick it up, water comes out and I am aware that I will likely not be able to use it until it is all dried out.

This is actually the second time I dreamt of a computer printer being filled with water, the last time being relevant to one in a kitchen sink (from January 22 of this year). The cord concern seems based on a real-life event where a plumber temporarily triggered the safety switch and power outage due to an extension cord socket being partly filled with water while lying on the wet grass.

Other dreams involving water in a problematic or unlikely area have related to a desk drawer, a window sill, a mopboard (skirting), and a transistor radio (from years ago), though in all these cases, being an actual spray or implied conduit.

Morning of April 12, 2015. Sunday.



The setting seems to be Barolin Street, though the layout is slightly different. I notice people I do not know in one room, though they seem to be implied as my family members at some sort of reunion. An older lady and a girl are walking around and doing something that seems related to setting a table, though this one is in the living room. Only my father’s relatives seem to be in the house.

I walk into the kitchen and see a large table (there being more space in the north area of the room beyond the doorway than in reality). On one end, closer to the wall and the doorway, I see two of my older brothers sitting there; Rollie (still alive) and Les (deceased). In my dream, it does not come to mind at all that Les had actually died several years ago. I say something to Rollie (who is the closest to the corner of the room and farthest from where I am standing) about not having seen him for a long time, though in fact, he does not really look exactly like he should. His face seems a bit unlikely free of more defined features - the skin too smooth for his age, though he still looks very old (something to do with his eyes and lips), though not quite like a real human - even though I somehow easily recognize him as my brother. We have a fairly short conversation, with him doing most of the speaking, but I do not recall all of it - he does say the word “because” at least once and something about a vacation, I believe.

---

If I were going to assign any potential meaning to this, I might associate it with my living brother Rollie (and his present state of health, which I have no clue of), though I would not declare anything certain, as dreams related to him have not been that defined in plot or continuity in contrast to the precisely defined precognitive dreams related to my older sister Marilyn.

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Afternoon of March 12, 2015. Thursday.



This dream was based on an ongoing real-life event when I was resting in the late afternoon/early evening, except that my dream is an extreme exaggeration of thoughts I had previously, before I learned more about what was going on. The event involved a telephone company digging a hole right near our house and even blocking off our fence and gate and ability to leave our own backyard. There was no notification that they would be doing this and it is yet another good example of the thoughtlessness and imposition of modern society and the incompetence of the infrastructure in general.

In my dream, we seem to be living in a different region where urban renewal is going on. It seems as if we live in the downstairs apartment of a commercial building (which may also be connected to someone else’s business) of some sort. The ceilings are quite high. The walls are concrete but the building seems to have a large crack near the front of it - related to the adjoining sidewalk and street. There is an area where you have to step across a crevice to go from the building’s front entrance to the sidewalk. It seems some of the cracking was made worse by recent digging related to the so-called urban renewal and no one was informed about the dangers they would be exposed to if continuing to live in their own homes.

Kitty corner from our fictional in-dream apartment building is a house similar to the one we presently live in in reality. However, there seems to be adjoining apartments on one side as well as a large parking area in the back of the other apartments. An unfamiliar female and her older son live in the house, renting it. At one point, even though I am not lucid, I become more and more annoyed by all the digging and building activity going on to where I develop a sense of having special abilities. I decide to attempt to bring things back to how they were. At this other house, I lift entire sections of the sidewalk up using nothing but my hands and notice that the concrete is still somewhat soft and moist but still hard enough to pick up in larger pieces. I remove the entire sidewalk from each area of the corner in both directions and am able to toss it into the street where mostly only smaller debris is left. I remove all the construction fencing and smaller barriers blocking the area as well. For some reason, I also tell the unknown female that I will help her find a much better house in the area (even suggesting that I will create it out of nothing with mental powers). I tell her that I am taking control of the entire town.

At this point, a group of people (of about eight or so) who apparently serve me and my unwavering goal are lined up near the curb. They are all wearing some sort of black-and-white uniform. I notice my wife as well as male friends from junior high school and a couple unfamiliar people. I ask them how many people they have eliminated from the area and the report is twenty, although I eliminate several people as well. I do not do this violently, however (which I suppose is unusual considering how angry I am). I mostly only focus and wave my hand to cause their elimination - possibly teleportation to another region rather than instant death. There is one scene near the parking lot where I am talking to the unknown female and someone I do not see closes their back door as if they thought I was looking into their apartment (which was not the case - all I was aware of was a shadowy area near a screen door prior to this).

Near the last part of my dream, I somehow (using some sort of in-dream “magic” or mental will - though I am still not lucid) wave my hands to seal up all cracks in the buildings, including our apartment house (recurring). Parts of the entire building and areas of the street move to more properly adjoin and stabilize. From there I go on to refurbish any areas that were ruined by the so-called urban renewal project.

A few government buildings, including a police station, are completely and swiftly covered with large vines until only a park-like area is left. It is interesting how I repair some buildings while others are swiftly split up and crumbled into dust by plants. Everything seems to be going well at this point.

Most of this dream is based on real impressions and experiences (and a level of wish fulfillment) other than the ongoing imposition just outside our window. There was even a time in real life fairly recently where someone started to set up equipment and a lot of demolition fencing right near our house and fence. This was by mistake on this occasion, but by the time we got his attention (yelling directly at him had no effect whatsoever - apparently he was hard of hearing but we did not know this), he had already emptied the truck. He seemed to partially blame us for his ridiculous mistake - partly by living in a house that was vaguely similar to where he was actually supposed to go - apparently no address was given to him; talk about an insane level of incompetence. (Apparently we were also somehow supposed to know he was hard of hearing as well as knowing the exact moment he started unloading the heavy materials when we were in the house for a time and were not aware he was there at first).

Morning of April 10, 2015. Friday.



This was a very long meandering dream without much plot continuity, though somewhat fun all in all. Though it is not lucid, I am still aware of making most of it via some sort of background focus, which is probably why it goes a bit “haywire” as dreams tend to do when my own thoughts shift, sometimes with transient expectancy of the dream itself. Since childhood, a certain kind of dream I have several times a year relates to an older time period being altered by anachronistic features (typically caused by my thoughts shifting or becoming more aware while making a dream), though this one changes in somewhat of a humorous unexpected way regarding my in-dream role and character.

It starts out with some sort of experiment in an unknown indoor location. A portal is opened after several other insignificant events and conversations occur. I have a desire to go through this portal, which is like a glimmering two-dimensional doorway or wavering plane that is just a bit taller than I am. Someone in unusual plaid pants goes through before me, but after a short time, he is seen to be going into a television that is barely big enough for his waist to clear (probably influenced by a similar movie scene relating to being “stuck”, in “Skinny and Fatty” from 1958 and “Housebound” from 2014), though he manages to go through into the implied alternate world or time. After this, my dream shifts to a western setting, similar to the set of “Gunsmoke”, and it is seemingly the 1800s, possibly the 1880s, because I believe it is mentioned at least once.

There does not seem to be any drama other than a horse having a problem with his front right foot. He goes and rests in the corner of a barn and there is something about being fed a special food to accelerate healing though this scenario becomes odd as he eventually seems to have human-like toes, which will make it difficult to put on a horseshoe.

I fly around in several different positions (including sideways) about ten feet from the ground for some time, including in and out of a hayloft from the outside. At one point, I seem to be in an old saloon (with batwing doors) and I notice my wife, though we apparently have not met yet. I embrace her and think about getting married at some future point (even though I already am in reality). She seems to have, as becoming Miss Universe, been getting ready to be in a remake of “Valley of the Dolls, though as some attempt at a "video noir” television broadcast (which also seems related to the minimal western sets) though I know little about video production as such. I am mostly in a very cheerful mood, though.

As I walk into a different area, I notice my father sitting on a couch with several other people around in a semi-dark room. He is playing an accordion and I feel a strong sense of nostalgia. He seems to recognize me though is younger and has not had me as a son yet. We talk for a fair amount of time, but his voice sounds completely different as well as altered by some sort of electronic device. His entire eyes also glow a bright reflective silver at one point, shining in the otherwise semi-dark room. (For some reason, I do not find this unusual or off-putting even though it is a bit eerie.) I tell him that I am his son, or rather “will be” his son in the future. There are at least seven or eight longer exchanges, but I do not recall all of it.

I notice a man who may be a doctor who is sitting at an antique desk. I ask him what year it is to confirm the old west scenes from earlier in my dream. He says, very slowly (almost as if a part of me is deciding what to make him say) 19… (and at this point I am surprised, as it is not 18…) …78. It is 1978, supposedly. He continues by saying that it is July 24, 1978. (I am not sure of the significance of this in context to my dream, though this was shortly after I moved back to Wisconsin.) I think about the people I had met earlier and wonder why this “old western town” exists during this time period (and for some reason I do not reflect upon it as possibly being a movie set), so I go outside to explore again. It seems to be around afternoon and everything is bright, clear, and realistically detailed.

In probably the most vivid scene, I end up going down a long dusty road (through an otherwise featureless field of grass about a foot high) that is covered with old broken pieces of concrete as the surface (something I have never seen in real life). Some of the pieces are as big as my fist. I notice a few modern buildings in the far distance. I eventually decide to walk back after walking perhaps the distance of four city blocks. I see a car moving in the distance on a different (proper) road. I clearly think to myself how this road would not be suitable for cars (due to how very bumpy it would be as well as having sharp bits of concrete causing problems for the tires) even though it is likely used (or maybe will be used) as such at times. From here, I return to the isolated town with the intent to explore some more.

Memory is a mysterious thing. Relative to the date mentioned in my dream (July 24th, 1978) the 1978 Miss Universe pageant was broadcast live on the in-dream referenced date. “Valley of the Dolls” was also aired. There was also an article in the newspaper we got for that date titled “Those ‘Perry Mason’ Reruns Keep Video Noir Genre Alive”. Additionally, I have a dream journal entry titled “Valley of the Dull” (from April 9, 1978 - my wedding anniversary, though long before I was married on April 9, 1994) where I had written about falling asleep while watching it, the audio and half-awake partly discerned visuals at times integrating with my dream. Memory is a very unusual, though vast precise “storehouse” at times.

Morning of April 7, 2015. Tuesday.



In my dream, I am yet again in our apparently fictional house that has recurred for a few years now. (However, Zsuzsanna has said that features of it remind her of a place she used to live that I have never seen.) It is the house with the long strange narrow pipe that goes from a bathroom (seemingly on the second floor in some dreams) down to what seems like some sort of unrealistically large utility room.

In this particular dream, there is a recess in the floor between the ends of about two sets of three or four floorboards on the second storey. This recess is unrealistically filled with dirt at least several inches deep. My wife’s oldest sister is in our house and watching me dig through the dirt with my hands. I attempt to mentally create some sort of atmosphere of treasure-seeking as she seems somewhat doubtful. Eventually, I find what turns out to seemingly be an Australian penny (no longer in use even though prices commonly indicate otherwise - something I have always found bizarre - the idea of “theoretical money”, especially when not accurate, being one of the strangest concepts I have ever encountered in reality). I eventually see that I am holding a large Australian twenty-cent coin. It is enlarged to a few times its normal size (by assumed perspective only, as sometimes things seem magnified in dreams). I talk about this with her for a short time. The coin’s head side is different than anything I have ever seen; seemingly some sort of male athlete. I sense that it may be valuable. (In reality, I have not really seen that many special twenty-cent coins.) There is something else about coins and lids from bottles, but my dream changes from here as two sections of the floor fall out from under us. There is a “whoa” sound of surprise and a sense of sudden movement (as if we are actually falling).

This scene seems to be a false alarm though (or a partial typical dream “reset”), as I am then suddenly still on the second floor on what is left of the third section of floor on one side of the room. (The other two sections of the floor that fell reminded me almost of falling serving trays.) I am looking down into the large utility room, noting that the pipe has become detached from the toilet (recurring). However, when I look more closely and with more attention, the waste and debris I first thought I saw turns out to be skeins of yarn on the floor (which is quite dry considering there should be water from flooding from the displaced pipe). I also notice many other craft items on shelves in the room below. I feel a sense of relief at “realizing” this, as there is no major mess to have to clean up as I first started to worry about. (For some reason, I am no longer focused on our floor problems at that point.)

After having dreams of finding coins on the ground (or in some cases buried in the dirt) since early childhood, this may be a play on “trying to find value in dirt or in one’s location”, or “trying to find sense (cents) in Earth or one’s location”. I suppose there are a lot of ways to look at it. As a multidimensional spiritual being in a “lower” limited-to-three-dimensions physical realm, this could relate to trying to find value in materialistic life on Earth or value (or sustenance) in the ground alone (with such as a garden). A “yarn” can be “a long or rambling story, especially one that is implausible” and can also be referred to as BS (implied waste). Still, people tend to forget that visual associations may be more meaningful than puns or metaphors in some cases. In this case, it may relate to the potential of creating or “weaving” something (not necessarily a “yarn”) out of something that would otherwise be wasted.

Morning of April 6, 2015. Monday.



This is only the second longer dream related to the “Supernatural” television series as far as I know. However, there is a huge number of older dream records I have not looked at recently that were never online or newly researched, so it is possible there are older ones. In this case, it is concerning the actual characters rather than the actors as in my last related dream.

Firstly, Sam and Dean join with Crowley to kill hellhounds and other beasts (including the “monster” from “F/X” from 1986). Sam, Dean, and Crowley seem like best friends with a long history of helping each other. The setting seems to be some sort of isolated hall inside a building or offset from this world. Crowley is injured by the F/X beast and Sam and Dean pull him to safety after defeating every beast. I am seemingly not directly part of the action here because I am never threatened in any way even though I am on the scene fully in-body and thus actually present.

Eventually, I am in a large mansion that apparently belongs to another member of the Winchester family. It is a younger male. Sam and Dean stay in this place while Crowley gets better. Oddly, he rests in a large drawer in a large four-tier chest of drawers, I think the third drawer up. He has cuts and bites all over his wrists and around his neck.

An amusing scenario is when I hint at what Sam and Dean have been doing for a long time, as the other male who owns the mansion does not know anything about it. Every now and then, I mention words like “supernatural”, “hellhounds”, “ghosts”, and so on. Every time I use a word as such, Dean gives me a concerned “don’t you dare” look as if the other male is not supposed to know anything about Sam and Dean even though he is family. Finally, I say “hunters” (my last “hint word”) which makes both Sam and Dean look at me in an extraordinarily annoyed manner. The other male never really understands what I am talking about, though, as I am only giving clues rather than directly explaining or revealing anything.

At one point, I show the unknown male the scar on my left wrist. It is larger than in real life (typical in-dream “magnification”) and with several more defined hollow areas. Dean has a scar similar to mine also on his left wrist, though with stitch marks in a straight line near where the hand meets the wrist, about five or six small holes. I explain how my scar was caused by a fight with an octopus-like sea monster. (I even have a vague false in-dream memory of this fictional event).

Eventually, Crowley wakes up and slowly crawls out of the drawer and his wounds are all somehow healed. He is apparently completely human now. He attempts to move things with magic, such as a book and a stack of papers, but nothing happens. He also now seems only about twenty years old and seems very dejected. A voice comes down from a corner of the room. It is his mother (who has apparently taken over Heaven and has a lot of minions). He does not say anything about having no powers though I am aware he is scared because she demands to see him and he cannot teleport. I am uncertain as to what his fate will be.

I try to move some papers (by magic) from a high stack of old papers on the chest of drawers but nothing happens. I am annoyed but do not draw attention to myself. I end up leaving and walking out the front entrance into the night, finding myself on Loomis Street walking southerly. Behind me is a cheerful group of about six college or high school students, one being a young version of my wife (which I do not realize until later). As I walk, I sometimes cause, by apparent “magic”, a single maple leaf (there is only one here and there along the way although there is other organic debris on the sidewalk) to move from the middle of the sidewalk into the street. At one point, however, the trick seems to be done by blowing downwards with my hands cupped and works as such. The others do not notice or at least are not astounded or impressed. However, it dawns on me that this is “not possible” (I am never lucid) and I cannot do either the magic or the blowing again to make a leaf move anymore, though I attempt it again several times as we walk. There is ambiguity here; sometimes the “maple leaf” is more like a piece of Spanish moss or steel wool (which seems the “same”) with a very vague association with a miniature cage or cage-like “nest”.

Soon, it is late morning even though it was around midnight just seconds before. I am attracted to my wife (the group now walking ahead of me) and cause some sort of cable near the sidewalk (probably the large telephone cable being installed here recently) to rise slightly and move around near her legs to stop her from getting too far ahead of me. Another (unknown) female sits behind an unlikely “outdoor counter” on a street corner. Eventually, my wife and a couple others of the group sit down against an outer wall that is somewhat like part of a school. I notice that my headphones are entangled within the cable I had been magically moving about by telekinesis. I mentally cause the headphone cord to become disentangled and rise straight in the air and “plug itself into” the underside of the roofed sidewalk. I also notice that sections of the eaves are like the ground, that is - upside-down ground by which the dirt and a few pieces of debris (as well as a gum wrapper or some such) somehow does not fall. (Do I detect a play here on “plugging into Eve?”)

I then start to admire my wife’s legs (which are still partly within a section of the cable but not that entangled) and contemplate how to be with her from then on. It seems the only concern worthy of focus.

Later, there is some sort of secondary dream or slowed-down hypnopompic “epilogue” where Sam is sitting in a dungeon-like room with straw on the floor near an old wooden door with bars. A holographic human torso (no arms or head - just the torso, but wearing some sort of Middle Ages doublet) keeps moving through the closed door at about a forty-five degree angle, ghost-like, but not threatening, causing Sam to jump in exaggerated surprise and puzzlement each time. This scene eventually changes to a dalmatian in the same place barking at, and dodging, red targeting lasers from an unknown source (illogically, seemingly from the inside wall of the room opposite the door, though this actually does not seem to be the case as the dog does not seem to notice anyone with a rifle in the room). For a short time, I “remember” that Sam Winchester is a dalmatian, but then I realize I am thinking in abstract terms and wake.

Yet again, my dream seems to be partially triggered by something my wife had seen and thought about (which has happened hundreds of times over the past several years). She had checked the details of the “Supernatural” show a day before she usually does (without saying anything). The cables (and “plugging in my headphones”) could actually be some sort of metaphorical form concerning telepathy between two people. That is my guess at this point, anyway.

Morning of April 3, 2015. Friday.



I am in an unfamiliar outdoor area without many features. I am unsure of the implied time period. Apparently, it may be the 1960s, as I see young versions of the Beatles walking around though I do not interact with them. I get a sense of their innovation. I also reflect on how my best friend Toby and I could have seen them in concert in our teenage years if we had made more of an effort, which does not make sense as they had broken up as a band by then. I still feel cheerfully nostalgic. Even though I seem to be physically present, some of the events look quirky as if with film effects, including when the Beatles are walking and the frame rate seems altered. It might be implied to be footage from or for “A Hard Day’s Night” from 1964. Later however, the implications distort into also being linked to “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band”, which is from a later time period (1967).

At a later point, I am listening to “Being for the Benefit of Mr. Kite” on a pair of headphones while sitting outside near a table. It is a very long fictional version, probably about eight minutes or more, and has random parts here and there vaguely similar to parts of “Revolution Number Nine”. The music has less instrumentation in some parts (as if one more instrument is dropping out of the recording every few measures) but at one point sounds a lot like the real version of the song.

What intrigues me is vivid but incorrect audio of certain parts of the music. For example, near the last section, instead of the melodic flourish over the circus-like organ cacophony just prior to the return to the verse, it is the Dixieland air horn sound (as from the car on “The Dukes of Hazzard”). I hear this in the left channel. It makes me feel very cheerful.

Also, during this time, I watch Mr. Kite, which is a black-and-white caterpillar made up of a long series of miniature “war bonnets” of mostly black feathers, each tiny “war bonnet” directly behind the other. It moves about on the table, seeming to be moving in time to the music; undulating rhythmically and turning about left and right, defining a narrow oval path; a surreal event.

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Update (same day): Yet again, a dream occurs that had imagery seemingly influenced by something Zsuzsanna had seen and thought about, something that I could not possibly have known about. In this case, it was specifically a caterpillar that she thought looked as if it had feathers coming out of its body, which she had seen on a children’s DVD (checked out by her for our two-year-old daughter) the night before. (I did not see it prior to my dream.)

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Morning of March 29, 2015. Sunday.



I am walking up a very long and steep flight of stairs (both by my choice and my seeming simultaneous creation of it by way of non-lucid dream control). Others, including a wealthy old lady, are ahead of me. This flight of steps is so steep and high, I get a strong impression that I will not be able to go down them comfortably. (This is mainly due to the fact that I am facing the solid structure of the stairs as I am ascending them but when walking down the steps, I will be facing open space, which might cause me to feel ungrounded.)

I decide that instead of using the stairs on my way out after I do whatever it is that I have to do, I will teleport from the second floor of the building down to ground level (though this never occurs by the end of my dream).

I notice that, as I am climbing the stairs, the building I am in is like a huge cathedral. Eventually, I find myself in a large L-shaped area that has numerous bookshelves along all walls. Apparently, it is a book sale, displaying both new and old and worn secondhand books. My wife Zsuzsanna eventually appears and looks over different sections.

A young Japanese male seems to be responsible for most of the book sale, regardless of how large an area it seems to be in (at least one city block). At first, I talk to him about the books in broken Japanese but eventually I decide to implement a translator where I can speak English and it will automatically be translated into Japanese. This translator even forms a holographic matrix around my head to display the correct lip positions for each word and syllable, so that it also looks correct. It is as if I am actually speaking Japanese to anyone watching me. My translator works both ways. I hear the Japanese male speaking English even though I know he is speaking Japanese. His voice is loud and clear.

I look over a set of small but thick softcover books on a low shelf that seem to be in a series and are mainly about mythical monsters, though one has a triceratops on the cover. At first, I notice only book number four, but eventually find all of them and decide to buy them. I carry them around with me to another section closer to where Zsuzsanna is.

I pick up a large hardcover book from a top shelf and notice that the writing is very small and sideways on some pages, which seems to relate to statistics, old census reports, or other government records. I see that the front covers (though not the back covers) are missing from most of the books in this particular section including the one I am holding, which is also damaged in that the spine is at a slanted angle. Even though most of these books are in English, it seems that they may have been printed in Japan. I do get a lot of various information from the young male but cannot remember all the details, as there are a lot of different books I look at and talk about.

I find a large book in the area where Zsuzsanna is looking around. It seems to be someone’s dream journal in the form of a novel. It is about a man and his wife and young daughter traveling over an isolated desert region in a station wagon. I read one entry about a drive over a particular stretch of hard, cracked ground and what was seen, the dream journal being from the perspective of the male, who is the driver. I decide to get that one as well.

Eventually, Zsuzsanna and I are ready to leave. She has a large canvas carry bag full of books. Mine is smaller than a backpack. In order for us to pay, the young Japanese male has to put on a blindfold and determine the price by weight alone as he stands near the section we stopped at. I do not question this. The total cost is fifty dollars. As I go to pay, I see that there is about two hundred dollars in fifties and a few twenties in my wallet. For the third time in this dream, I implement an idea that seems to prove that a part of me knows I am making my dream. Even though I have enough money to pay for the books, I mentally create an additional fifty dollar note on the other side of the twenties.

From here, my dream fades. However, as it does, I begin to notice additional bills of odd amounts, such as a thirty-four dollar bill, a seventy-dollar bill, and several other fictional values.

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Morning of March 25, 2015. Wednesday.



My family and I are living at our present address on W street though it is somewhat different. The area east of us is more like a rural area with less buildings and includes at least one large empty lot. There is a wall clock featured that either is - or is designed to look like - an antique wall clock. The top section is octagonal (same shape as a stop sign - may be an association here with “stopping time” in a “wishful thinking” sort of way) and the bottom section primarily vertically rectangular.

The clock is the main focus of my dream though we also have a garden where the shed is in reality, covering about half of the backyard on the far side. I notice that there are very tall healthy plants, not sure of the variety, that are taller than a person. I briefly contemplate whether or not other people will be annoyed by this in their not being able to casually “spy” on us.

There is also a scene where a very old lady (unknown and unfamiliar) with a seeming cheerful disposition is smoking a cigarette in the (fictional) empty lot east of our house. I notice another cigarette (long, but with no filter) in a shallow narrow ditch (running east and west) in the ground and actually smoke it (even though there is no act of lighting it other than with my in-dream thoughts though I am not lucid). Although I am not a smoker in real life and rarely smoke in my dreams, the usual occurs. Small pieces of tobacco annoyingly fill my mouth from the tip each time I inhale from it. At one point, I exhale, and an amount of smoke far more than would be possible flows from my mouth as I sit on the ground. The old lady seems to be looking for the rest of her cigarettes which she had apparently dropped but continues walking east. There is also at least one unknown older male (about forty) standing around at the time on the north side of the ditch. (There is a very subtle geometrical redundancy as dreams tend to have at times. The cigarette lying longways in the small ditch is similar to the elongated drill-bit-like cog fitting in the semi-circular recess of the clock’s door in the next scene.)

The scene with the clock is fairly long and complex. The only character other than my wife and children at this point is a black-haired young female “servant” (though implied to be divine or angelic, though without the typical mirror-like eyes in this case). She is the one that starts the idea of the work on the clock involving the refurbishing of three different gears. Other than that, the clock seems mostly hollow of working parts but is still implied to work well again when repaired. Her intent to “restore” me (via the clock) seems devotional and selfless (though my wife unknowingly triggered a Blue Pearl event - brighter than usual - when I was in a health-affirming state the other night, just with her mental state at the time from a different room - thus the girl may also represent a young version of my wife - also yet again supplying evidence that the Blue Pearl is related to either direct communication between real soul mates or an entity or mechanism that acts on their behalf).

Paying close attention, I note that one gear, a slightly elongated cog that almost reminds me of a piece of a drill bit, is quite small and goes into the top edge of the clock’s “door” into a long semi-circular recess closest to the hinged side, though still has something to do with the timing mechanism rather than just the door uniformity and latching. Another cog is fairly large, about one-sixth the size of the clock and goes in the lower left side of the back of the clock’s hollow area. It has the typical inward-pointing rounded triangular hollows of radial symmetry, I believe five of them (likely representing the five fingers). The last cog is about half the size of the previous and goes between the door and the rest of the clock somehow, near the center of the back of the clock’s face. Apparently this work is metaphorical of restoring a certain level of well-being, which did have an effect on my real body after waking in a positive sense.

This dream was partially a result of generic health-affirming work. Although it is possible to script, write, and incubate a dream exactly as wanted (at any level of in-dream awareness) in every detail with my own lifelong methods, I often use very general terms (such as “thank you for restoring me to maximum well-being” or “thank you for returning me to my healthiest state” and thousands of others) and no plot-based constructs in this case. It is also important to understand the continuity of these phrases (most people get them wrong or use incorrectly worded ones - as most commercial products have incorrect methods implemented which is something I have noted for nearly thirty years - though in some cases a placebo-based event may result with certain people). Supplements of the phrases here should be “thank you for my restoration to maximum well-being” and “thank you for my return to my healthiest state”. This is because other levels of consciousness process word forms in a different manner than the wakeful conscious mind, especially gerunds; for example, as mentioned in another entry, “healing” can have many meanings, including an “infinite now” of NOT ever healing (since ”-ing" implies ongoing and never actually completing).

The smoking scene in my dream is likely related to a product I was aware of years ago and often joked about. It was a cassette which I read about, supposedly designed to help people quit smoking. The approach used in affirmation was completely wrong and ludicrous. It was typical of invalid dream-work-based or self-hypnosis-based commercial products of the time where negative terms were used and the focus on what was NOT wanted was implemented (for example, saying “I will quit smoking” is pointless at several levels).

Morning of March 23, 2015. Monday.



My wife Zsuzsanna and I are in a car in an unknown metropolitan region, though it could be Brisbane. I believe she is driving though the scene is not rendered that fully or clearly - it is more like we are moving along within a light mist that is only implying travel by car. She is relating to me how a (unknown) younger female was caught sending stolen precious gems in the mail (diamonds, emeralds, amethysts, and rubies - which I become aware makes the acronym “dear”). Apparently, my wife is required to sit with other people and take some sort of government-related tests. The location and the building is all unfamiliar.

There are perhaps a dozen people in the large room sparsely seated at several tables. Although the scene does not really have that much of a scholastic setting or mood, I become aware that the people are working on one-page third grade math tests for the most part. This has to do with some sort of government-related assessment to see the potential of certain individuals in society. It seems that each test for each person is slightly different (possibly so that people cannot copy another person’s answer). Mostly, there are one to two-digit addition problems and a few multiplication problems. Most of the people are over thirty and seem to be quite challenged by (seemingly at first) third grade math. Every now and then I notice something different, such as something that resembles a “Wishing Well” newspaper feature. I am not involved in any testing - I am only there for my wife due to complete distrust of mainstream authority.

At one point, I notice that Zsuzsanna is sleeping on a table on her side due to the stressful environment. I walk to the other side of the room and talk with an older wealthy-looking lady working on a test. She seems over fifty. I tell her that I know that it is (generic) third grade math because of my long-term experience with teaching K12 mathematics (though mostly based on combined international standards). At this point, however, I do see a long division problem on her page where the divisor is three numbers. However, I notice that the dividend area is not a complete number and to the right of the digits that are visible is a long black bar filling out the rest of the area under the long division symbol. I tell the older lady that this is not “real” mathematics and that some additional seemingly simple equations cannot resolve to decimal values (even though they are implied to), suspecting that something is “wrong”, yet I do not become lucid at these impossible math tasks though which still can apparently be answered “correctly” (that is, without the “no solution” option). I get the impression that some test questions may be in octal, by which such as four plus four would then correctly equal ten. I contemplate that the government could easily trick people by not stating what base system is being used - thus playing on the general public’s ignorance of higher mathematics and thus no one would pass, which irritates me somewhat (even though the tests really did seem to be at primary level earlier on). (Looking back at this entry and including additional pertinent notes, I consider that it may vaguely have been inspired by a similar scene from “The Flintstones” from 1994, concerning the whole math test scenario.)

From here, I walk across the room and see Zsuzsanna sitting in an armchair and another (unknown) female is on her right and other females are standing. It seems to be a smaller open room off the main room. At first I think she may be ill and I see “blood” she may have coughed up, but it turns out that she has a bowl of tomato soup on her lap and the other female has a different type of soup, possibly celery.

On the other side of the main room, I start talking to someone (also in an armchair) who turns out to be a very young version of Don Knotts (deceased February 24, 2006). Another male on his left is also seated and seems to be a young Jack Gilford (deceased June 4, 1990). I am only slightly aware that they may be ghosts. Our conversation is very cheerful and friendly and with respect. I notice that other people are looking at me oddly as they apparently cannot see the two males I am conversing with, which I confirm by directly asking them if they see either of the two other males and their general response implies that they do not. In fact, Jack plays a prank on one unknown girl by somehow pulling her belt off so that her pants fall down. However, this seems ambiguous because she is immediately wearing different clothes. (The scene was likely due to a brief association with Simon Hunt, also known as Pauline Pantsdown, an Australian satirist). Later, I notice that a large television is on (to the right and against the wall from where we are). Jack makes some sort of comment regarding how he cannot understand what people are saying in movies anymore. There is something about Harvey Keitel being in the (unknown) movie. Earlier, there had been the sighting of a Barbara Mandrell album (odd, because I know very little about her and have not seen anything about her in over twenty years that I recall). There is some sort of confusion about the name in it being more like “(Barbara) Mandel” which shifts to “Harvey Mandel” (an American guitarist) in confusion with Harvey Keitel. “Mandel” may actually be a subtle play on “Mandelbrot” here.