non-lucid

Morning of March 15, 2015. Sunday.

Dream #: 17,618-02. Reading time: 1 min 12 sec.



My family and I (as we appear now) are living in the Clayfield apartment, though there are no other buildings around (as in reality), only a big featureless field. It seems to be late afternoon. I watch a small airplane flying overhead, viewing it from the window of our main bedroom. Zsuzsanna and our children are not around at this time.

As an unknown female of about twenty years of age is walking westerly across the field in the opposite direction of our apartment, a Cessna nosedives, crashing behind her, though there is not much noise. Although it had not hit her, she is seen lying on the ground needing to be pulled away from the area by an older unknown male. I do not perceive that she is physically injured, she only has mild shock. The crashed Cessna remains in a diagonal position, with several small pieces on each side of it.

I suddenly find myself in the area of the event when I had only been watching it from a distance from our bedroom window. An unfamiliar man asks me about it. There are a few unknown people present. There is no mention of the pilot, but I am not aware of one being present, alive or dead. I absentmindedly claim that the airplane stalled because he was flying it straight up. (I say this about four times to different people.) I describe how the same accident had recently occurred three times, involving Cessnas with identical appearances. However, I do not recall seeing any previous event like this.

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This dream is a typical projected vestibular system correlation event, one of the most common waking processes, usually unrelated to waking life. It is an association with resolving the imaginary physicality of the dream state. The process often renders falling, flying, and rising events.

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Morning of March 15, 2015. Sunday.



In my dream, my family and I seem to be living where we are now on W Street though the house seems connected to the neighbor’s house as if part of some sort of large apartment complex and at least some of the layout (such as the kitchen) is rotated perpendicularly in the direction of the other house (though our bathroom is rotated one-hundred-eighty degrees around so that it is on the east end of our residence). There is a large but shared lobby towards the north rather than a porch of any kind. Our entrance faces north; the neighbor’s entrance faces west. (This layout somewhat mimics the porch in reality, as our main door faces north and the computer room has an external door that faces west onto our porch. The in-dream lobby however is at least five times the size of the real porch.)

My dream’s setting is later at night. I hear some noise outside and when I look out the window, I see two large flatbed trucks and a car, all of which are faced north and parked on our side of the street, the car being the first vehicle in the row. The two flatbeds are stacked with at least four levels of wooden chairs (and nothing else), though quite randomly at various scattered angles. The car also has chairs randomly strewn inside the back.

Later, I hear hammering coming from the other apartment. At one point I look out into the fictional lobby and see an older male and female, who have a large dog, carrying a couple chairs into their place. Apparently, every single chair has to be hammered upon here and there to fix it up for their new home. I mention that they are okay in doing this as my wife and I had been listening to hammering on and off for over fifty-two weeks. There is a bit of sarcasm in my voice which I do not think they catch. Being that we only share the empty lobby with the new neighbors, this dream is atypical of similar shared dwelling dreams where there is more integration and consequently more annoyances.

Later, my wife is in the bathtub and I think she is annoyed by the new neighbor situation. (In reality, the number of wooden chairs that were in the vehicles would not even have fit in the small house next door.) During the last part of my dream, I hug each member of my family for quite some time and feel a strong sense of love and hope. The positive energy dominates the rest of my dream.

Hugging, and its extraordinarily realistic feel of weight and pressure and enhanced sense of touch in general (including a sincere sense of compassion and respect), has occurred in my dreams since earliest memory.

Morning of March 14, 2015. Saturday.



My dream is quite vivid but not lucid in any way. It is mostly like a typical intruder dream but not as annoying as usual and with at least one unusual feature. There is some sort of celebration taking place later at night near our home (where we presently live) out on the street. However, I do not see that many people. I see an unknown male and female (in blue jeans) sitting on the curb in front of our house and am aware of a few others who have strayed into a neighbor’s front yard.

When I am in the front room (where my computer desk is), it is semi-dark, though I notice a male standing near the window looking out. He says he does not know how he got there and may be dazed from alcohol or drugs. His appearance in our house seems unexplainable, as if he somehow just walked through the outer wall (though he is not ghostlike). It seems he is undressed though he also appears like a younger, chubbier version of The Vulture (from Marvel Comics) and seems about thirty and with all his hair. However, the wreath-like area over his shoulders seems more like fur than feathers at one point. He is vaguely reminiscent of a Doctor-Seuss-like character though realistically human-like. He is not threatening in any way and again, seems somewhat confused and very passive. I help him find his way out of our house, though the porch seems to be more like the one on Loomis Street than our present one. There is a lot of clarity watching the few people outside later, from the correct layout of the front room, but there is no drama.

This is the second dream recently, where another dream character appeared in a room as if having walked through an outer wall. There are often shared events or features between two or more dreams that are otherwise unrelated.

It is possible that the “vulture man” may be meant to be a much more human-like version of The Cowardly Lion, though this is only an afterthought.

This dream was visually precognitive in that a character from “The Lorax” (2012 version) I saw tonight was very reminiscent of the character in my dream on some levels (especially in distorted appearance). I had no idea that I would be watching that movie tonight and had not known much about it anyway (and the first image above was not changed after realizing the precognitive connection). This sort of dream-related experience is extremely common for me and there is always a sense of “knowing” (or contact with the Source) I cannot quite describe even though such events are very impersonal and trivial and seemingly pointless in many cases.

Morning of March 13, 2015. Friday.



The first part of my dream seems very impersonal and unrelated to what seems the second part of my dream (though there could have been a very short break between them).

It seems that I am seeing it all on a television. There is some sort of Cajun rally involving politics and a national news team, it seems. One male is apparently running for mayor (in Louisiana, possibly New Orleans) or possibly a higher office (it is an unknown male, nothing like Mitch Landrieu). He and the reporter to his left (my right as I am viewing the broadcast) seem quite different in presence and focus. In fact, the politician generates a very strong and unusual persona that reflects pure superstition rather than any sense of political premise. He makes a claim that if he does not win the election, all of the spirits of the dead will rise and destroy everything. The male reporter seems only mildly puzzled by these statements by his facial expressions, as if he only mildly doubts the politician’s sanity, but does not say anything about not believing it. In fact, it does seem unlikely that the politician will lose the election, but that is not related to what he is threatening. The idea that he may actually believe what he is saying does not seem that unusual to me though I am aware that it is nonsense and the politician is possibly insane or at least empty-headed.

From here, there is a break into a completely different scene. I am hearing my own voice speaking the same phrase over and over - a phrase that is not relevant to any prior affirmation or scripting of any kind. I am standing fully in-body and am aware that I am deliberately saying it with a sense of meaning and certainty, even feeling the motions of my mouth.

“You project it and you receive it.”

I keep saying this until I decide to ask my wife (who is lying in bed at first but somehow the couch in the front room immediately after) if she needs a doctor, because she seems to be having pain or discomfort in her lower abdomen almost as if she is ready to give birth (she is okay in reality). It is intense prior to waking, so much so, I am almost aware of at least the apparent pressure within her lower body having an effect on my perception and physical status as if it is acting as a wave that moves through the environment. The persistence and clarity at which I am saying this is somewhat atypical of this dream type. (I stop saying the phrase when she appears more in distress after seemingly teleporting to the sofa - I am standing near the telephone at the time).

Morning of March 10, 2015. Tuesday.



There was not much to this dream. I am apparently aboard a small submarine in a fleet of about six. There is another fleet of an equal number of enemy submarines, which are several times bigger than ours. I am also watching the scene from above at times and as if on a large monitor. At the same time there is also a vague awareness of bilocation in the Cubitis living room (but as an additional implied underwater location yet somewhat ambiguous, likely with the submarines scaled down to model size) with the enemy subs heading south and ours heading north. It is interesting how bilocation factors still commonly use my childhood home where I have not been in real life since 1978.

Two submarines at a time, small and large, face each other (they are about two larger submarines apart in distance) and fire torpedoes. On the monitor, the torpedoes appear as white stars. Each moves toward the other at the same speed and each submarine is destroyed at the same time. Even though this does not seem to make much sense in afterthought, it seems like the perfect strategy. The scene repeats with all of the submarines except for the one I am supposedly on. (Only briefly do I question why none of the submarines attempted to move from the paths of the torpedoes, although there is the idea that the smaller ones only fired a torpedo because the larger ones did, to make sure the enemy was destroyed, but it also seems like each had time to move out of the way.)

Morning of March 8, 2015. Sunday.

Dream #: 17,611-02. Reading time (optimized): 3 min.



My dream’s setting is at least a three-way composite of known locations. It seems to be morning. Zsuzsanna and I reside in an anchor-shaped building. Drama starts as I notice, to my left, water spraying from a hidden area of the wall into the kitchen sink, some going over the counter and floor. The kitchen seems to represent an anchor fluke while we in the living room are in the crown area, and a hallway representing the shank branches off in front of us. On my right is a bay-window-like area that represents one of the anchor’s arms. I go over to see what is going on. A young white male is somehow spraying water from his window (outer wall of the “shank”) and through our kitchen window (“fluke” area). The intrusion angers me.

From here, I see that he lives with or is visiting three unfamiliar girls. The room is the first to the left off the hallway. I pull him out and into the living room. I look through a large dresser to find my two guns and notice various unusual devices and parts of many different things filling all the drawers. I eventually find both (though unrealistic and skeletal). I hold them near his head, but I do not hurt him. I fire one in another direction, but a little yellow disc comes out to cause a minor explosion on the floor. I want to scare him so that he never returns. Later, he says that he was harassing us because he does not like how we smell and claims the building and grounds has our unpleasant scent. He also blames a plumbing problem on our cat even though it is a sewer problem from the street.

As I sit by the bay window area, I look out into the yard to see an old lady feeding kittens near some hedges. It is hot, so my shirt is open. I hear her say something to someone else whom I do not see that my presence by the window is not intrusive. She is soon somehow in the living room (though there are no doors) talking about the building and the owner (whose apartment is left off another part of the hall). The owner is also an old lady who soon comes out. She explains new rules, including how no one will be allowed to leave the house after six pm, even to shop. Even buying food after that time might result in eviction. I am annoyed and slowly realize we had unknowingly rented an apartment in a boarding house or halfway house. I argue with the two ladies, but I do not threaten them.

My dream changes to nighttime. I am so annoyed by having to live in the building I decide to jump into the cold turbulent waters off a rocky shore. It extends from a hotel where the bay-window-like area had been. It seems I walk about half a block to get here through a long hall. The incline of the rocky shore is about thirty degrees. I feel good at this point, and my dream is still vivid. Zsuzsanna had been following me out of concern. I throw myself in but now more as a gesture of enjoyment of the icy water. Zsuzsanna attempts to save me from drowning (though I am not in peril), but I soon need to go out farther to save her. From here, there is bliss and closeness as when we first got together in experiencing the unexplained “same skin” perspective in real life. (That is, when I touched a part of her, I could feel it on me as if I was “in” both bodies at once). There is a vague awareness of “My Love, We Are One” from “Orca” (1977).

Other people are now sitting or lying on the rocky shore as if on a beach. I have taken out an Australian twenty-dollar bill. I wave it, and it changes into five or six twenty-dollar bills and at least two hundred-dollar bills. A young man looks on with amazement. I continue to move the notes around as more appear out of nowhere until I have thousands of dollars. (Some of the money is now in piles on the big damp rocks.) My dream begins to fade. I notice that the money only has detail on one side; almost always the case. It probably represents the absence of conscious identity (or viable awareness of the real environment) while in the dream state.

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Morning of February 27, 2015. Friday.

Dream #: 17,602-03. Reading time: 1 min 44 sec.



I am on a city bus with my wife Zsuzsanna although I am unsure of the city or region. It is in an unfamiliar commercial area. We are seated near the middle of the left side, Zsuzsanna to my left and me closest the aisle. My mother and older sister Marilyn (both deceased in reality) are at the front of the bus as well as possibly my older sister Carol (also deceased). There are several unknown people on board. The unfamiliar bus driver drives around, seemingly on the correct route (as none of the other passengers complain) but eventually, he runs out of gas. He takes out a case with several thermometer-like devices in it that he uses to measure how much gasoline is left to determine how far the bus will go.

He drives the bus into a big featureless parking lot near a small storefront, stops the bus, and gets out, leaving the main doors open. I soon see him talking to another man about thirty feet to the left of the bus in another part of the parking lot. At this point, I notice that the parking lot is on an incline, though it did not seem so at first.

The bus rolls in reverse. I try to engage the emergency brake, but it does not work. The bus starts rolling side over side (even though the incline is probably no more than twenty degrees), soon becoming a wreck on the other side of the street. The bus driver does not seem concerned and in fact, remains cheerful when approaching the wreck.

Most of the passengers are okay, having no injuries. However, I notice and remark that one female of about twenty had broken her neck and died. She is still sitting in her seat in the same position, though it is back at an angle as well as detached. There is a bone jutting from the front of her neck. I feel sad for her friend even though I did not know them. Zsuzsanna and I (as well as my mother and sisters) are okay. My dream fades from this point.

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It is possible that in many cases (though not all, including prescient or telepathic scenarios) that an accident or vehicle mishap is a metaphor for either the dream being disturbed or the result of an uncomfortable sleeping position. In this case, the bus rolled over, and people also roll over in their sleep. My wife had a stiff neck when waking (which I did not know of until after waking). I can assume transpersonal communication; telepathic (for lack of a better word).

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Morning of February 26, 2015. Thursday.



This was one of those dreams which greatly distorted time (one of those unlikely “alternate timeline” kind of ways) and personalities. However, there are some insignificant parallels between otherwise unrelated personal associations, though they seem somewhat pointless and out-of-place (as well as long-outdated relative to my present life).

In the first part of my dream I find myself in an alley in a basic scene that used to be recurring, but that was more-so years ago. In this case, I find two types of items that have been placed in boxes near dumpsters in an alley near, I believe, a pawn shop. There are a large number of craft items, mostly cross-stitch kits, still new and unopened. One smaller kit seems to be that of a rose. I think about how it would be good to give it to my sister (who is deceased in reality). I also find numerous comic books as well as educational books and some historical magazines relating to war. There are a lot of duplicate items.

For some time, I look through the various books (as well as the boxes in general) and am trying to work out how to get some of it back to my sister’s house, because I eventually gather enough to fill about half of a small room. Two police officers (male and female) stop by for a short time, but there is no concern that I am doing anything wrong. They mostly talk to a few others involved in trying to work out why the boxes are stacked there and if they have the right to take any (because, in fact, it may be related to a delivery to the business rather than the business discarding items). It turns out that my sister’s house is about six to eight blocks away to the east and a couple blocks north from there. Something relative to my awareness shifts in my dream and even though I am not lucid, I am able to pick up the entire collection of items and casually carry it down the street as if I was a “human forklift”. I have no sense of heavier weight carrying this high and wide pile of boxes with both hands out in front of me in an otherwise impossible manner (this seems to be the first time in my life that I have dreamed of this specifically).

The location is La Crosse (America) and it does not “register” that my family and I are living in Australia (in reality). For some reason, my youngest son is sometimes looked after by a female (CS) who has what is now known as Dissociative Identity Disorder (as well as other problems) who had also known my older sister in real life years ago. I only seem to think about this as concern begins to grow as my dream progresses and the false back story is vaguely built. It seems this female may even be living downstairs in my sister’s house and taking care of a (unknown) boy and girl as well as my youngest son at times. I am not sure why my wife would not be taking care of him when I am not home. Our other children do not seem to be present at any point. Both my sister and her friend are as they would have appeared about thirty years ago though my son appears as he should. In my dream, I get the impression that my wife and family and I live across the street from my sister, though again, the back story is not that clear.

The level of alteration and distortion at this point is quite unwarranted (which is somewhat atypical of how my dreams usually unfold). However, it may be partly based on long-resolved or “extinct” concerns - relating more to my wife’s mother in some ways than my sister’s friend (both are extremely deceitful troublemakers). Somehow, my youngest son may not even be clear on who I am due to how long I have supposedly been absent (which has never been the case in reality with any of our children). At one point, my son says “I know who you are” as if speaking to someone who is not actually me and in a negative sense. When I speak to my sister about the problematic female that has likely misguided my youngest son, my sister starts out saying “I feel…” (as if ready to defend that person for some reason) but I interrupt immediately by sarcastically saying “you feel…what?” (This may be some sort of subtle awareness that my dream self knew she had died; even showing an undue in-dream meanness towards her.) From here, my dream decays, but there remains a very unlikely nature to the entire scenario. Although it is typical for many types of dreams, even ones closer to one’s real life path, to get everything wrong (other than any mixed literally or visually precognitive and remote viewing layers) this one was more distorted than usual.

Morning of February 22, 2015. Sunday.

Dream #: 17,597-03. Reading time (optimized): 1 min.



My gadget dream starts with my youngest son’s birthday (which was in real life recently). My attention is on a miniature Coca-Cola vending machine that changes over time. I look into it from the upper part of the back, and it is bigger inside. I see metallic mechanisms in the inner compartment. The toys are within the mostly hollow mechanical sections instead of the front for distribution.

I retrieve a couple of items from it. I look farther down and notice several cut-out daily black-and-white comic strips taped upside-down over the internal silver walls. One, with four panels, features crows flying around and seemingly attacking Mary Worth. I think about taking the comic strips out to read, but I do not as they seem too far down to reach and pull out.

After I examine the inside of the toy vending machine, I give my son two of the presents from it. One is a raccoon figure (possibly a windup toy) and the other a jigsaw puzzle, made from packing peanuts, of a squirrel. It is in a small transparent pillow-shaped bag. Zsuzsanna cheerily complains about its quality. We leave it unopened because of already having an identical puzzle (false memory). I suspect the pieces are too soft to stay connected, and they also crumble. We will likely discard the duplicate.

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The raccoon figure is likely an association with one lost at a previous address, but which had belonged to our oldest son. The puzzle is an association with being in liminal space.

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Morning of February 20, 2015. Friday.

Dream #: 17,595-02. Reading time: 1 min 26 sec.



It is a physically uncomfortable dream, though not intense, that occurs only when an object aids my flight. I mostly fly around in a standing or cross-legged position. Most situations occur in the early afternoon in unfamiliar commercial areas.

I have a cell phone that serves as a flying device. (I do not own one in reality). It is uncomfortable in that I have to hold onto it as it lifts me into the air. For the most part, I only fly above the rooftops of two-storey buildings. At times, my speed picks up, but I mostly fly slowly, sometimes pulling my legs up into a cross-legged position. There are a few times where I need to rise above utility lines.

My sense of touch is vivid as I feel the device buzzing and vibrating in my hands as I hold onto it. The faster the vibrations, the quicker and higher I fly. There are times when I relax, resulting in a more elevated flight. At one point, Zsuzsanna is holding onto me (mostly my torso) and we fly together.

I notice two compartments accessed by a thin detachable lid (opening from the left). Each holds an AA battery. They are vertical on the back, near the edge of the right side, divided by a featureless surface of about the same length as the compartments. I notice, after having used the cell phone to fly for some time, that there is only a battery in the bottom chamber. I decide to add a new one in the higher compartment (taking it from my shirt pocket). I do this while in flight while only about two feet above the sidewalk. It results in the cell phone lifting me higher and for longer.

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Typical dream fallacy dominates this experience. Not having all the batteries in a device would result in it not working. I have always found it intriguing how erroneous dreams are. Although I was physically uncomfortable while flying around with my arms up holding onto something small, it did not bring about lucidity.

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This dream is similar to one from December 21, 1969, where I held onto a book to fly.

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Morning of February 14, 2015. Saturday.



I am in a mostly featureless outdoor area except that I think there is a wooden wall behind me (that does seem to be part of a building). It is seemingly early afternoon. I had supposedly volunteered to have an apple shot atop my head by Wilma Tell. She has reddish hair and is facing me from perhaps about fifteen feet away. Apparently, there is an audience off to my right (on bleachers, possibly four-tiered as that is what came to mind later), though I cannot directly see them (as if they are implied to be invisible, since I “know” they are present).

I become more aware and cannot imagine why I would have volunteered to do this. (There is no recall of any backstory or what led up to this.) I am distracted by noticing half-eaten apples on the ground. (I do not seem to actually feel an apple atop my head.)

I see that Wilma is ready to fire an arrow at me. Before she is able to, I reach down and pick up various apples (including half-eaten ones) and throw them at her, causing her to lower and drop her bow. The unseen audience starts laughing and applauding. One apple I throw somehow goes vertically higher than any other. It seems to become “stuck” in midair almost so high as to be indiscernible. This distracts me and I wake with a soft hypnopompic back spasm.

This dream is proof that the nature of non-lucid dream control (that is, the knowledge of altering the dynamics of the dream without even remembering what a dream is, including forms of reinduction) can sometimes alter the biologically premonitory hypnopompic mechanism (of which the waking symbolism is also always directory premonitory of in various ways, though typically in an incidental form unrelated to the conscious self identity in real life), though this was usually not the case when I was a boy when there was no time to focus upon it (other than in dreams such as “The Staged Bull” from 1971, with the potential back spasm trigger of the bull’s horn willfully avoided by initiating my own waking).

Although the arrow was supposedly aimed at the apple atop my head, it has a direct connection with the hypnopompic back spasm event (which ranges from very soft and nearly indiscernible to intense enough to make my whole body jump, which seems directly related to how much physical activity I was involved in during the previous day though is also directly related to the level of consciousness I am in), which has often been associated with bird beaks in childhood dreams that triggered it (for example, “The Buzzard’s Beak” from 1969). Other dreams have included a dog’s hard nose (being pushed into the small of my back) terminating my state of apex lucidity in 1970.

Although dreams like “Devil Dog” (1972) showed evidence that physically premonitory hypnopompia can sometimes be shifted (though not willfully or intentionally in every case), it usually cannot be (such as in “A knife into my back in a hospital hall” from 1989).

Is it any wonder why my Olympic barbell is my preferred weapon of choice to jab the preconscious back when I am (subliminally) annoyed about the waking transition.

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Morning of February 13, 2015. Friday.



My family and I as we are now are living in an unfamiliar house in my dream (which seems to be a unique composite integrating features of our present home on W Street with Cubitis) in one of my lifelong recurring “strange bugs” dreams (but always unique with regard to appearance, this one being more unusual in nature).

Firstly, some sort of weird large black ant gets into our house from near the top of the wall, but it is not at all like a real ant. Instead of having three body sections (head, thorax, and abdomen), it has at least nine or more - being vaguely reminiscent of a centipede. Even though it has no visible wings, it is somehow able to fly and hover (vaguely reminiscent of the motions of a hummingbird). When I look back towards the wall from across the room, it is hovering near the wall with a long black proboscis that is at least twice as long as its body. It seems to be “feeding” from the wall (at human shoulder height) somehow. It seems very strange to me but I am not sure if it is dangerous.

Later, in a different room (that seems a little like our present kitchen on W Street yet also seems to have the feeling of the living room in Cubitis with respect to the layout concerning the room I come out of), I talk to my wife Zsuzsanna about unusual insects getting into our house.

I notice a large silver moth lying on the floor, apparently dead (though not crushed or noticeably injured). Its wings are very shiny - almost as much as aluminum foil. I notice a small line of black oil near it, extending out from its head, which is apparently the remains of its very long but seemingly “melted” proboscis. I am absentmindedly associating it with the weird ant as if I think it might be the same insect somehow (even though it looks nothing like it) or at least is somehow connected. At this point my dream slowly fades.

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Here, the waking transition is clearly “moon dissolution” (and is related to circadian rhythms in a similar manner as typical sunrise metaphors) which does not seem as common in dreams as I would expect. The moth is silver (a downsized moon as well as the association with “moth” and “month”) and it is melting and is also a “failed flight” element (which is very common in my dreams and simply represents the waking process.) The black oil could easily represent the “melting” (or fading) nighttime (again, relevant to circadian rhythms) although black is associated with the state just prior to waking (or just prior to dreaming).

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Morning of February 12, 2015. Thursday.



It seems I “am” Batman, but not the “real” Batman - perhaps I am his stand-in while he is on vacation. There is not much to this dream - it has no plot; only a couple rather ridiculous scenes - one incoherent scene involving people I knew on King Street. I never catch on that I am dreaming. I am living with my family where we are now in real life (on W Street) in most parts of my dream, though again, there are also points at which I seem to be in La Crosse flying around.

For a time, I am wearing really unsuitable and ill-fitting uncomfortable clothes as I am flying around mostly at night (for example, a light-colored flannel shirt that is too baggy and long).

There is a Batman costume in my backyard near the shed near the final part of my dream. Oddly, there are only two sections to it; the bottom (boots and “pants”) and the top (which somehow comes down over my arms and includes the Batman head. First, I put the boots on with no difficulty, the sense of touch being slightly enhanced. It feels fairly nice. However, when the top of the outfit is complete on me, I realize that the mask has only very small horizontal slits which I can barely see through. In fact, I notice three slits on each side at different levels. None are exactly where the eye-holes should be so I have to adjust the full-head mask several times to see anything at all. It is still mostly like only seeing a thin horizontal bar of color representing the backyard (though I can see just a little out of the other two slits on each side - only at times). Still, I fly off into the air, not remembering in-dream that Batman does not fly in the manner of Superman. From here, my dream eventually fades.

Perhaps this dream is a reminder that, even though you can be anything and do anything in dreams (including being bodiless), perhaps weighing yourself down with too much costuming and deliberately blocking your vision is not the best route. Why would one need to wear a mask anyway? One can be his true self in a dream.

Morning of February 9, 2015. Monday.



This was a shorter dream without much plot or even a back story. It mostly involved (at first) only foreground-renderings in terms of perspective although I am in a park at one point and I am eventually aware of more around me for a time. However, much time is spent looking at things only a few feet away.

I am listening to various old cassette tapes I supposedly recorded music on including some of my own where I sing Bob Marley songs. Over time, one cassette gets chewed up from the capstan jamming. I watch the tape go inside the deck but pull most of it out afterwards. There is also a point where several other cassettes have lengths that had somehow been neatly sliced into rather short curled pieces, somewhat like flat macaroni. I contemplate putting them all back together, which of course would be impossible in reality. There would be no way to know which pieces went where when reconnecting - but it still seems I might be able to do this in-dream.

When I am eventually in a large park with a rural feel, it seems as that is where I had been since the dream started even though I was fairly certain I was in a room somewhere a short time earlier (otherwise my cassettes had been spread out over the ground outside which does not seem right - and the deck would likely have been plugged in somewhere). My brother Dennis comes from due south, I think, and starts talking to everyone (oddly, except to me) about police coming into the park soon to check everybody for some reason. This does not make much sense to me and I am not that concerned about it. My dream eventually fades with no ensuing drama.

Although it is not that uncommon for cassette tapes to go out of alignment or the capstan to get stuck, resulting in the tape being chewed, it is possible that this happens in a dream for the reason of a real-life noise intruding into the dream, or the dream losing cohesion as a result of something else (an incidental shift in consciousness perhaps).

Morning of February 5, 2015. Thursday.



This dream is implied to take place in a factory but the setting is actually a larger variation of the Loomis Street house’s living room. It is not an orderly factory. There are at least three rows of employees, north to south, mostly in the north side of the expanded living room. Everything is all over the floor; frayed electrical cords, carburetor pieces, random sections of plastic, small broken appliances such as toasters, smaller tabletops, etc. I am not sure what is being manufactured but I know there are a lot of vacuum cleaners used to clean work areas. There are several other people working, all sitting on the floor. I perform several menial tasks, most of which I do not recall, though one relates to winding up a frayed electrical cord.

One older female supervisor (who also spends most of the time sitting on the floor working on something) gives me the task of taking the front wheels off of all the vacuum cleaners, including any that had been buried and hidden under other junk, apparently for cleaning, due to hair and short threads being trapped in the wheels and jamming them. They are not much like real ones though. There is a plastic part on each side in the front that resembles a Popsicle stick which is screwed on and holding at least three strangely fibrous tiny wheels in place - wheels which seem to have the potential to soften or eventually dissolve. I look for a screwdriver but cannot find one. My dream seems to “reset” and I am back at my task taking off the sections and taking the tiny wheels out, hoping that they do not get misplaced. I do this with about eight or nine vacuum cleaners with more to do.

Once again, I am eventually aware that I do not have a screwdriver and cannot find one. I try to mentally unscrew parts, but it does not seem focused enough to work. (Trying to do something with telekinesis or otherwise mentally causing the event has been common in my dreams since childhood. In some cases, I move on to the next part of my dream even if my attempt to force something does not work and I pretend that it had. For example, after several attempts of mentally forcing my wearing of shoes, I go walking anyway, pretending I had put them on and am wearing them. Sometimes this works. This implies non-lucid dream control.)

I do not want the supervisor (who is dressed as a maid from the early 1960s) to be annoyed with me. She reminds me of Shirley Booth in her Hazel persona (though at least ten years older) though I have not seen her in that show since childhood.

I end up going into what would have been one of the bedrooms but in my dream is instead a factory storage area. There are many small boxes stacked in many piles. Looking more closely, I see that they are possibly all “Flintstones” videos, many possibly VHS (regarding the size of the box). There are also several packages of new trading cards loosely arranged in each so that the packets slide around randomly. This may be an earlier product the factory had produced and discontinued, yet added the cards as an incentive to purchase as “new”. I am still annoyed about not finding a screwdriver. I seem to be aware of a couple Phillips screwdrivers on the floor here and there (though their appearance seems more as a dream within a dream), but I need a standard flat-blade. I spend time rubbing the dust off the video cases with my bare hands (it feels very realistic, the sense of touch being enhanced at this point) as my dream fades.

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