non-lucid

Morning of October 1, 2014. Wednesday.



My location is unknown (although it may be the southwest Cubitis bedroom). It seems to be late morning. My mother (July 14, 1916-October 2, 2002) is sorting various items that normally would not be mixed together, including miscellaneous photographs, cutouts from magazines and newspapers (both mine and hers), documents featuring my affirmations, pages from my childhood dream journals (large loose leaf binder type), and letters. I have a dream within a dream and a false awakening back into my original dream. It involves getting an idea and attempting to make it work in my original dream.

I have a small bag of marbles that I think I can get to fly simply by putting a toy-helicopter-rotary-like piece (possibly made from wire or from a cheap toy helicopter) into the top when closed and then twisting it around and letting it go (similar to putting a rubber-band around two pencils or chopsticks and winding one around a few times so that they can spin or “dance”). The rotary is only about the size of the palm of my hand. I try it several times and it actually lifts and hovers for a very short time each time but eventually does not work and mostly seems a result of just flipping about from the surface of the bed and onto the floor. I then get the idea that it would work if the small bag was lighter, so I take out the marbles and fill it with fluff (pillow stuffing, I think). It goes a bit farther but still does not actually fly or result in the rotary “unwinding” (to cause it to “fly”) for more than a second or two.

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Sorting likely relates to mixed thought processes in the dream state. Marbles may come from the concept of “losing marbles” thereby relating to marbles as concrete thoughts (or logic). The helicopter association, especially the rotary, relates to conscious awareness itself and the nature of “return flight” (as the waking prompt), so my dream may simply be a metaphor for an attempt to gain lucidity in the dream state. I remove the marbles and replace them with pillow stuffing. This seems linked to replacing certain “concrete” conscious thoughts with potential dream features, probably to attempt re-induction (deeper into the dream state).

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Subliminal re-induction does seem to be the key factor here. My dream self is “experimenting with flight” in a typical non-lucid state and even utilizing an unrealized dream sign as such (the pillow stuffing and even the small bag, which is akin to a miniature pillowcase).

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Morning of October 1, 2014. Wednesday.

Dream #: 17,453-04. Reading time (optimized): 2 min.



I am in Cubitis (not my home since 1978), but also aware of Zsuzsanna and our children living here, as well as my father (though I do not see him, and my dream self has no recall he died in 1979). It is a cloudy day.

Adjacent to the driveway (reaching east to west) on each side, from the carport to the highway, are grapevines along the ground (though they resemble a pumpkin plant with smaller leaves). Some sections are overgrown into the middle of the driveway. I pull the middle section, like pulling a rope, the vine about the diameter of a finger, and rearrange it so it goes into the north area of the front yard, almost into the neighbor’s orange grove. There seems to be an oak tree in one area instead of an orange tree and it looks like another part of a vine has grown onto and around the tree as well but I mostly focus on the driveway. I vividly consider how fortunate we will be when we are able to live off the grapes. I realize I am holding a large bunch of ripe grapes (and eat a few, the flavor very nice), but more may not be available for a few weeks.

Three areas have been overtaken by ants. One area is near the northwest corner of the carport. I watch with concern about the ants eating the grapes as they grow and ripen. I think using water will not stop the ants as their nest may be too deep. The water may not reach all the tunnels.

I consider blocking the openings to the anthills. I use a mix of glue and pieces of broken bricks and debris and it seems it may eventually work. Some ants get onto my hands.

Meanwhile, a huge pale grasshopper (as long as my forearm) is slowly emerging from the ground near the carport’s northwest corner.

I talk to Zsuzsanna about stopping the ants and about the big grasshopper, in a less-vivid offset dream.

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It is crucial to understand the causal factors of dreams (for clarity of mind and gaining the potential for dream state modulation) without the hearsay of habitually pretending waking-life symbolism and propagating misconceptions.

The vines represent my instinctual awareness of the lack of mind-body correlation while sleeping, particularly with the arms, as my last dream of this sleep cycle notes this dream. The causal factor of both was that my arm was in an uncomfortable position, with pins and needles (from lack of blood flow).

The ants represent pins and needles in my hand while sleeping.

The grasshopper emerging from the ground correlates with coming up out of sleep with anticipatory sleep myoclonus (as a grasshopper “kicks” and jumps).

The vines are near and over the driveway because it was a path I often walked in waking life to go to the end of it to wait for the school bus, signifying again that walking or mobility is not possible while sleeping.

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Morning of October 1, 2014. Wednesday.

Dream #: 17,453-01. Reading time (optimized): 1 min.



In my final dream of this morning, I am in bed in the same location, orientation, and time as it is in reality in the early morning. Zsuzsanna wants a glass of water, and one appears in my hand without me getting out of bed (implying telekinesis). She says it tastes bitter.

I think the bitterness may be from when I was trying to block the ants from coming out of the ground in another dreaming experience this sleep cycle (as if this dream implies another dream was real, but with no recall of more dreaming experiences). I think the pheromones from the ants may have gotten into the water from my hands. However, that is not consistent, as my other dream took place in Cubitis in America, and this one takes place in our present home in Australia (though that discrepancy does not affect my dream self’s recall).

At this point, a snake seems to be in our bed on my right at first. It resembles a coral snake and seems to come from just under my shoulder. Soon, it is gone as if it was not there in the first place. I think I was probably incorrectly perceiving my arm to be a snake as discernibility is lost even though my dream was vivid otherwise.

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I typically summon water (virtual melatonin) to sustain and vivify a dream, but in this case, its bitterness is because of my need to wake due to my arm being in an uncomfortable position.

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Morning of September 26, 2014. Friday.



I am in an unknown room in an undefined (only partly rendered) home. It does not seem familiar in any way (other than having a similar directional orientation relative to the front door as the Cubitis living room). I am aware that my wife Zsuzsanna is in another room to my right. There is a tall thin paper sack, with a rectangular bottom, near the corner of a wooden table in front of me. I do not question how it has been many years since I was near such a sack and how you do not really see them around anymore (at least not where I live).

When I touch it near the top to take it into the other room (where I believe Zsuzsanna is going to give it to someone unknown - I assume an older lady) it begins to quiver and the vividness and detail is extraordinary. I know immediately that there is a bird in the bag. The curious vibrations and papery sounds, almost like paper vibrating against a comb but quite augmented, flow into and through my right hand; a curious intense awareness, and almost, but not quite, trigger lucid contemplation or the potential of lucidity as such.

This concerns me though, as I question whether or not the bird can still breathe, so I look near the top where the sack has been scrunched together to keep it closed for the most part and see that there is a space for a small amount of air to get through. This seems satisfactory to keep the bird alive though I am still inclined to look inside this tall paper sack. Looking into the sack, I see a large but sickly quail lying on its side. I am somewhat concerned about how long it has to live. I think about the reaction of the unknown person in receiving this quail and whether or not it will thrive from here.

After a short time, this quail has somehow transformed into three, two of them quite healthy, but the original still a bit sickly. I do not contemplate how that happened, either. I sense that the original may still recover. The other two are standing upright on each side of the sickly one.

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Of the virtually endless connections and parallels with Zsuzsanna on two different continents until 1994, we also both raised quail for about six months when about the same age.

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Morning of September 20, 2014. Saturday.



I seem to be passively viewing an investigation, though I am still present in the setting, which seems to have the essence of the northeast corner of the Cubitis living room (where I am not been sine 1978). It seems to be taking place in a corner of a first-floor room at two perpendicular desks. Two unknown young females are talking about a telephone being tapped. They seem uncertain about what they are doing. When a number is given by one to the other, she complains that it is a private number (supposedly indicated by starting with 392), as it seems it was supposed to be related to a business telephone, possibly a bank or loan company operating illegally. It is decided that at least one of them will pretend to be a call girl from the service already known by this other person. She sets up a meeting pretending to be from their usual escort service.

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My dream shifts to a hotel room (fourth floor or higher) in a different type of dream scenario and where I am more present. My wife Zsuzsanna is now with me. Curiously, Tom Welling is here in his Clark Kent persona (from “Smallville”). He also seems to be some sort of amateur investigator. It is presently nighttime. In the distance, viewed through the hotel windows, is a very large building that creates the impression of also being like the model of a city. There is one large belfry that is more like a towering apartment. Tom aka Clark seems to be indicating that one of the criminals under investigation (a corrupt banker) is living there. I seem to know it is where Bruce Wayne lives. I casually say “That is where Bruce Wayne, Batman, lives.” Suddenly, I realize that I should not have said that, as now Clark knows the superhero identity of Bruce Wayne. I walk more to the corner of the room saying “Whoops…pretend I did not say that”.

Clark appears to be puzzled. Apparently, he has never heard of either Bruce Wayne or Batman. I guess it may not matter what I said. I absentmindedly (remembering the comic books) ask him if this is Earth A, B, or C and he replies with “C”.

I realize that I have altered history, because now, I notice that there is a black leather outfit lying on one of the two beds (the one farthest from the door) which seems like a prototype of a Batman costume. It seems that Clark Kent will now become Batman instead of Superman because of me talking about Batman. However, it also soon seems that Clark is partly in that outfit, but he is “disintegrating” in a similar manner as the monsters in “Little Monsters” do when exposed to light. One of the arms is still flopping around but Tom is mostly gone.

Suddenly, the mood of my dream shifts and I attempt to make a comedic exit. I sing the old television “Batman” theme: “DO do DO do DO do DO do, DO do DO do DO do DO do…Batman!”

As I leave the hotel room, I see Zsuzsanna and our children sitting at computers in an open room of which is part of a hall, which seems to be part of my old apartment on King Street. I go into the small hallway bathroom and after a short time I hear (seemingly from out of nowhere) Ian McKellen shouting “That’s the consequence of being a thumb…and ANGULAR!”.

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The dream state indicators are of course the beds, which do not symbolize anything other than the subliminal memory of having fallen asleep. Dream state indicators are a very common factor in my dreams and have nothing to do with “interpretation”.

The emergent consciousness factor is the feature of the computers in the last scene, where my conscious self identity is beginning to become active in the waking transition.

My dream resolves in the last scene of being a typical bathroom wake-up call. Originally, I had not delved into some of the meaning in this dream so as not to offend people, but the remark shouted at the end is of course a reference to men urinating and potentially being off the mark, although unlike the experiences reported by other people, I have rarely ever used a toilet in a dream as this dream type is to induce RAS mediation to wake and attend to biological needs. (“Penis” is replaced by “thumb” and the reference to “angular” relates to the stream not always being straight. It reminds me of the old joke. “Our aim is to keep this bathroom clean. Your aim will help.” There is even the childhood Batman bathroom joke as related to the theme song just before the final scene.)

The scene with Clark dissolving on the bed is, in addition to being the usual vestibular system symbolism (associations with flight in this case), also associated with “Little Monsters”, which in turn is an association with being in the dream state. It symbolizes the ephemerality of the fictional dream self.

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Morning of September 19, 2014. Friday.



In my dream, I am in a seemingly unknown building though of which has aspects as a possible composite that includes the Cubitis living room and our present home’s living area. At one point, there is some sort of telephone call or paging for me, but the call comes from some sort of intriguing larger coin-operated video game of the kind from the mid-1980s. This does not seem unusual to me. I press a button under the top front edge of it to take the call by way of a small hidden microphone and the (unrecognized and remaining unknown) caller’s voice comes from the speaker of the machine.

Supposedly, I am to do some sort of job which may relate to mowing and maintaining a public building. I had done work like this (with several others) in a previous dream at either a shopping mall or hospital (or both in being in the same area). There seems to be something else, though - something mysterious and possibly relating to another job regarding surveillance or detective work.

My voice sounds a bit unusual; not like mine, but like a fairly young boy’s (though not like I really sounded as a boy). In any case, the caller says that I sound like Steve Finch and for a time, thinks I am him. (I know of no one with this name in reality.)

Over time, I try to speak more “correctly”, though the caller still thinks I may be the other person. Oddly enough, I am supposedly the actor Bruce Willis. At least, I seem to think I am to some degree in my dream (without any seeming pretense). I explain that I have a “voice modulator” - so this is why I sound as I do. I tell him that I have forgotten how to turn it off.

We arrange some sort of meeting with a “guard” of some kind. Supposedly, this guard is a representative and “protector” of a certain type of dream environment in another location of the supraconscious as well as being some kind of judge of dream workers. Oddly though, I do not relate it to the fact that I may be dreaming at the time so I never become lucid. I am to meet her in another location, which is apparently like some sort of portal to other types of dream states. Even though I will be instantly killed if I do not meet with her approval, I do not seem to be worried by my state of mind relating to the unexplained and dreaming itself due to my continuous and validated experiences with remote-viewing and precognition since earliest memory.

There is soon another person who explains this to me; an older unknown female on my left. We walk to an area near a small wooden fence where the “guard” is to judge me. One section of the fence is broken, but that does not seem ominous in any way. As this unknown female approaches, I maintain a very precise and clear open and honest perspective, wanting to express all of myself with full sincerity to “automatically” avoid my potential destruction (in short, by just “being me”). She towers over me - over twice my height (not as a giant, but as I am now seemingly of a child’s perception with an amazingly clear memory and orientation of when I was that size). She seems almost like a bag lady at this point. (She also reminds me somewhat in afterthought of the crossing guard from when I lived on Rose Street at age five.) She soon approves of me, allowing me to live and to continue dreaming, this being because of my lifelong connection to the unexplained and my sincere interest in the mysteries and meanings of dreams, it seems.

Before she leaves, I ask her about how precognition works. I ask if it is related to “threads”, like individual threads of a spider web, from both the potential future, and the “threads” of prior thought and memory simultaneously aligning in the present (in the sense of a fractal equation balancing out) - in other words, the human mind as a “spider” picking up the subtle “vibrations” in distant parts of the “spiderweb” or the event horizon of the theoretical future. I probably do not clearly explain myself as she shakes her head “no” in a very subtle way (but does not at all seem displeased) before walking off as my dream slowly loses cohesion. It may be that she did this to express that she did not have the time to answer any of my questions regardless of what they were.

Morning of September 16, 2014. Tuesday.



This is a rather bizarre and ridiculous dream; more amusing in afterthought.

Two (unknown) people, a male and a female, are on a large stage in front of a very large audience. The setting is possibly loosely modeled after my old high school auditorium but probably could be anywhere. They are there to demonstrate a special type of vacuum cleaner which also refurbishes any environment to eventual perfection. Also on the stage is some sort of living room setting but with various types of curtains in different areas.

Apparently the male is the one promoting the device and the female is there as possibly part of an audience participation event. The machine is turned on and, over time, the curtains, couch on stage, and carpeted floor - even the clothes the people on stage are wearing - become more and more beautiful, solely due to the removal of tiny particulates - dust motes and such. More and more, the audiences gasps in amazement as the setting becomes cleaner and cleaner and more perfect and more pleasant in appearance. In my dream, I even notice a continuously increasing enhancement of my own cheerful mood.

Eventually, however, the vacuum-cleaner-like machine seems to increase in power, going at too high of a speed. There is a rather amusing scene where the female is holding onto the machine and flying through the air (being pulled by the machine, which is creating some sort of storm-like atmosphere on the stage, with a lot of wind and roaring) with the male holding onto her ankles and being dragged across the stage on his feet. Small pieces of stuffing from the couch are roaring around the stage everywhere (like a sandstorm) and there is thunder. I get the impression that it may start raining. (Aside from having heard the vacuum cleaner just recently - this is also quite possibly influenced by coincidentally having very recently seen two scenes with sandstorms with heavy, damaging particulates that shared the same scenario - those being in “Prometheus” from 2012 and in an episode of “Outcasts” from 2011).

The audience is now gasping for a different reason, watching the onstage “storm”, yet I still get the impression that everything will turn out if they get the machine under control again. What is going on presently may be related somewhat to the concept of sandblasting but at a very augmented level.

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Morning of September 13, 2014. Saturday.

Dream #: 17,435-02. Reading time (optimized): 1 min.



I had a distorted impersonal dream that was like a science-fiction movie scenario. It is like watching someone else’s ideas or fantasies.

At one point, two young college men send up a small communications satellite mostly made from a beer can. People talk about using it to send a message to relatives, having something to do with how it shines and what direction it faces. It will somehow stay up in the sky even though it is too close to ground level to be in orbit. (I see the shininess of the small object from the ground).

There is an eerie part of my dream that involves unfamiliar technology that is like a combination of a tiny alien probe and a mechanical insect. It seems to move on its own for a time before it finally settles atop a black vacuum cleaner. I watch it clearly for several minutes before waking, expecting it to display some signs of additional activation but nothing else occurs. It looks like an alligator clip (laterally symmetrical) lying on its side, but is more elongated and has other features (like a miniature spacecraft). A teacher warily makes comments about it in a school setting. It seems necessary for people to pretend not to notice it. Although the object is tiny, it seems to be the result of an advanced alien civilization that may eventually overtake humanity. It reminds me of a robotic fly. It seems it may have a “primitive intent” (or programming) to camouflage itself.

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Morning of September 10, 2014. Wednesday.



I have titled this one “Frog Monkey” even though the animal primarily has the appearance of a chimpanzee (and people typically incorrectly associate monkeys and apes as being the “same”).

I am seated at a table (possibly round or oval as we are not directly linear in position from each other though not perpendicular either) and seem to be observing myself from outside my body at one point. It is possibly later at night as I am aware of one table lamp more to the right of center being on. Seated to my left is a chimpanzee. We seem to be writing something though I am not sure what. It may be related to invitations or some sort of bookkeeping or both although at one point the sheets look like A4-sized order forms. The chimpanzee eventually takes on the appearance of having a head that is about “half-frog” in various aspects - that is, it is still technically a chimpanzee head but becomes very frog-like in shape and certain characteristics of the nostrils and eyes somewhat plus with a somewhat greenish hue in areas with less fur. This does not seem unusual to me - it seems perfectly natural and “correct”.

It occurs to me that just as people often incorrectly interchange monkeys with apes (again, as I have done with the title though deliberately), they also do this with frogs and toads. I also think a play on “man key” may be here in the case with “monkey” as some sort of play on symbolically “evolving”.

Morning of September 6, 2014. Saturday.



This was a series of three shorter typical dreams - after when I woke but fell into a fairly light sleep and a vivid dream state a short time later.

The telephone rings in real life and my wife answers. During that time I am sinking back into a dream state and am somehow aware that my brother-in-law is on the telephone, calling from America. Even though this is so unlikely as to be ridiculous to even consider the possibility, I am somehow convinced to a point where I try to wake myself more as I am certain of the conversation relating to him and his need to talk to me. Of course, I am wrong, and it was just the usual illegal marketing scam call-center call. Another day, another short circuit in dream “logic”.

The second dream is the typical “here I am at King Street in my old apartment” dream. I have not lived there for over twenty years. Of course my family is there as they are now and I have the usual concern that the landlord or landlady will realize we are using the apartment when it is supposed to be empty or I had been away for a very long time not paying rent. This time it is the northeast corner apartment and I am sitting on the floor near the south end of the room listening to music with a slight concern that our activity will alert the owners to our presence. My wife is sitting on the bed facing south and everyone else is in the northern area of the room. I do not question the short-circuiting faux “logic” of how we could possibly all live in one smaller apartment or why our possessions are somehow “still” there after us being supposedly absent or not paying rent for so long, but that is how it is. Interestingly, the usual liminal state of being in “both” places occurs for a time.

The third dream opens with me sitting on the middle of a couch in a smaller featureless room with at least three doorways - and I am aware of an unknown male. He is apparently a television producer or actor (or both) or at least someone related to work in television. He stands to my left. To my right, in walks Jonathan Frakes as he looked about twenty years ago. I had apparently played the president of Star Fleet or some such on at least a couple “Star Trek: The Next Generation” episodes or whatever at an earlier stage (even though I feel and sense that I am only about sixteen or seventeen years old) and am somewhat unsure of what is going to happen next (whether or not I am prepared) because I am apparently going to be in the same role in an upcoming new episode (even though the show has not been filmed for years), but I am confident and at ease, oddly enough. The studio seems to be located somewhere beyond to my right, but I remain seated on the couch. Everybody seems happy, but for some reason I ask them if they usually get along with each other. The response is not negative, but not all that clear either.

Morning of September 3, 2014. Wednesday.



This was a typical “I cannot assemble it” dream where almost every possible wrong result occurs at one point or another; a recurring theme but with the dreams themselves usually quite different - but usually long and monotonous. Sometimes they have “resets” (with variant repeats) two or more times in a night which then seem to go on for several hours.

The location seems to be a larger version of the Barolin Street house. An unknown East Indian male of about twenty-five has brought a metal floor fan package to our house, possibly as a Christmas present, as I have a vague perception of a Christmas tree in the background at one point. However, it is possibly a present for a relative of mine (even though it seems we will sometimes be using it as well) - he just wants me to assemble it first. What follows is pure tedium.

Some of the events that occur and repeat in various ways include:

Screws and smaller pieces falling from one of the hollow cylinders. Trying to work out which part is connected to whatever other part. Having an awareness that some of the parts may or may not be missing. Looking around for any instructions which did not seem to come with the box. Putting parts together and then realizing it is wrong and having to dismantle the parts again. Finding a piece that appears to be broken or made wrongly, but not being sure it is. Realizing that the product is probably just junk and not feasible as a working appliance.

The other male eventually seems pessimistic about his purchase and mentions something a few times about returning it, but I do my best to try to resolve the issue by assembling the metal floor fan as correctly as possible; parts which seem to be for a rather large and high one (perhaps too high for the intended room). Near the end of my dream, I have two larger hollow cylindrical parts together (one partly within another) and seem to be making progress, but there is a wobbly miniature-cage-like section that sort of partly hangs from near the middle by the implied power and speed control buttons. I have a concern about someone being electrocuted if it is not assembled properly. (The connected sections also seem to be a foundation for a fan that would stand too high to be of any use.) One of the last things that happens is that more screws of various lengths and a few other smaller metal pieces slide and fall out from the inside of what I had pieced together thus far.

There is a scene where there is broken glass on the floor, potentially hazardous - one piece being fairly large and jagged. I hand a larger piece to the other male and he deposes of it. It came from a drinking glass that had fallen from a table earlier, I think. (Another recent dream featured broken glass - dreams for me often repeat one aspect or feature in a completely different scenario, but often only once or twice.)

One other situation involves looking for the instruction booklet now and then. At one point, it appears we have finally found it, but it turns out to be some sort of catalog or promotional guidebook showing the entire product line of the company, mostly industrial appliances. I get the idea of assembling it from looking at the box, but that does not help either due to all the atypical internal parts.

There are a lot of ways to look at this dream. I am not really a fan of typical dream symbolism or alternate meanings (pun intended) unless specifically personally obvious, as this type of dream seems mostly a result of a focus on attempting to build something without the reasoning abilities which dreams usually lack and as such - may not even have any deeper meaning - many people make the mistake of thinking all dreams have “messages” or deeper meaning when many do not (and likely most if you do not do actual dream work or have a “direct line” to dream memory or layered associations, which almost always - at least for me, have impersonal and quite trivial precognitive, postcognitive, or the usual remote-viewing elements - a vestigial aspect I have always believed in from the overwhelming proof, from when the once natural “universal awareness” that animals, even insects have - in being too much to absorb for day to day mundane tasks for humans - thus this universal awareness eventually changed to include other levels of mind (including what some people call the subconscious, which is not a static system as often promoted but dynamic, and as such I do not believe in what people usually call the “subconscious” by reference and supposed aspects of such) - though while still having potential for supraconscious links).

In other words, and somewhat obviously - trying to build or assemble something in a dream (even a vivid one) is automatically (and quite naturally) much the same as trying to assemble something while utterly inebriated and only using half a brain, so any “failure” in such a dream means not much more in terms of the real world than my amazing stunts of success - where I once brought Earth back into its proper orbit with bottle rockets tied down over the highway (though that does remain one of my favorite childhood dreams).

Again, some plays one might see typically: “not having any fans” (or not making fans), “concerned about glasses being broken” (I do not wear or need glasses), “seeking instructions” but being shown only advertising of ideas not needed by present company, “power being caged in” (or variations of control or higher power being caged), and several others.

On an additional note, as a fan often represents the Merkaba (or a half of the Merkaba) it could also relate to wasted lucidity potential.

Morning of September 1, 2014. Monday.



I am living with my family in a larger version of the King Street area in America. At first it seems related to a typical scenario where I have not given the owners enough money over time and do not wish to see them if possible. Apparently, though, they are not there and are actually mostly moved out, leaving the house in disrepair. Still, I am not sure of the circumstances regarding my continuing to live there. I am downstairs just outside the much larger living area. The door is open from the foyer and I decide to go in and look around.

After a short time, an Aboriginal girl comes in but she also reminds me vaguely of an older version of Sheila M from high school. I pretend that I am there (in case I am thought to be just idly trespassing) to talk to Elmer W about work, either maintenance or landscaping. In reality, he had died over twenty years ago (from long-term exposure to paint fumes and pesticide apparently) and yet in my dream I feel a bit strange asking if he is okay, because the girl seems to think that my question is odd as he is actually supposedly doing quite well and doing much of the work in moving stuff out. I do not find the scenario (not remembering he had died) that strange at all. It looks like I may even be doing some work a bit later.

However, my family and I, and a few unknown friendly people, are mostly just standing around outside the house later. An unknown dark-haired female of no more than thirty approaches in a newer car. She seems to be some sort of problematic presence regarding our being there and possibly has a weapon. I approach the vehicle and smash the closed window with a long barbell bar and am also soon holding an old flintlock in my right hand. I know it will not fire or be efficient if needed, but I am able to stop her from saying or doing anything to annoy us.

Meanwhile, I notice the youngest daughter and a couple other people walking near an area that the unknown female says is unsafe, being one of the reasons the owners have been moving out and why she is officially here to check things. I then notice Elmer driving out with a large potted shrub (away from my view), which is nearly the size of a tree, on a small trailer. My wife Zsuzsanna’s brother’s wife Bonnie also makes an appearance and is supposedly pregnant (which is extremely unlikely as she does not like children - as well as being quite “off” and somewhat of a conspiracy theorist, once claiming there was a fake train station in Brisbane that kidnaps people, including entire soccer teams). Apparently the other unknown female is also pregnant, which was seemingly not the case just moments before. I accidentally bump into her stomach and immediately apologize.

At any rate, I tell everyone to get out from under the extended roof section (which goes over the driveway) and especially make sure that the baby moves out of the danger zone as it starts to fall, yet I mentally hold it up with a movement of my right hand (using a type of typical in-dream telekinesis) and it does not fall.

Somehow, many broken pieces of the front windshield of the car (I had only smashed the front left-side door) are now on the ground near an outdoor table near which an unknown male sits. He is possibly drunk. I focus my intent on the numerous small pieces of glass and they “magically” come together with a glassy tinkling sound. However, there are still pieces that are not joining. I tell the other male to leave, and once he does, the windshield is whole by my focused intent. Not much happens after this, although it looks like everyone is going into the building for some reason. However, I get the impression that my family and I will be traveling while on a larger motorboat that is on a trailer (not sure of the driver of the car) for a time.

Notes and associations: The extended roof sagging and almost falling is related to past real-life events - I once missed an entire shed falling on me by seconds. The broken glass and toddler connection relates to my own experience when my left wrist was severely slashed from broken glass as a toddler (from a fall) and “impossibly” (according to doctors) completely healed over time though in my dream, the glass was “healing” instead of my wrist. The drunk was out of place (in a personal sense) as I have rarely been around anyone who drinks in my lifetime. The unknown Aboriginal girl seems possibly the same fictional character who was in a dream over twenty years ago.

Morning of August 22, 2014. Friday.



I am looking over my two youngest sons’ toys (the boys are also in the room) which have been gathered together on the floor near the center of the room. I am not fully sure of the location. It may be the living room from Cubitis but may also be Barolin Street. There are no obvious features to go by and my in-dream perspective is not focused on the environment itself anyway. There are several plastic toy soldiers (multicolored rather than monotone) that are on a much larger vehicle (mostly which I keep facing me, where I am sitting on my knees, it seems). The vehicle also has a couple smaller vehicles in the back that are around the same scale as the toy soldiers. This seems “normal” at first regarding real-life proportions, until I later realize that the two quite different scales of vehicles would not exist at full scale in real vehicle scenarios (though I doubt in conscious afterthought that children care that much if all of their toys are all at the same scale as my dream seems to imply) I test a toy army truck at the toy soldier scale that whirs a bit, being one that goes by itself for a short distance when activated by manual movement somehow. The gear design under it seems fairly complex.

A bit later, I look at a truck that is only slightly bigger than the scale of the toy soldiers which is sitting in one section of the back of the much larger toy truck (which is on my left with the larger vehicle facing me). In a short time, the smaller vehicle is much larger, about one-quarter the size or larger of a GI Joe jeep I once had. There are then much bigger figures, about the scale of the larger plastic toy solider figures I used to have. In a way, I am also thinking of smaller versions (about two-thirds the size at this point in-dream) of the GI Joe and Johnny West dolls I had as a boy. One of the figures is a pregnant female. Her stomach opens up (being similar to a model we had at the middle school) and the womb and baby can come out in a few separate parts. The colors of the pieces, four of them, are mostly pink and blue. This last part seems to vaguely relate to a previous real-life task of trying to come up with a way to fix the small broken keyboard “leg” - which was replaced by a new one and that one in turn broke shortly after. They do not make things very well any more.

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Morning of August 17, 2014. Sunday.



I am in a seemingly unknown in-dream city that does not look like any region I have ever actually been in in my life, though it may have subtle aspects of Brisbane (Australia) and La Crosse (America). The mood is rather clear and the dream is quite long and seemingly purposeful in that tasks must be accomplished over time under my guidance and participation in a larger group. I am actually partly responsible for the survival of many people in the area. This is apparently because of the supposed apocalyptic events, including no more electricity and the infrastructure somehow vanishing or rendered no longer feasible (this being rather illogical from my perspective, as my family lived without electricity for some time when I was a young child, in the middle of a dense swamp).

There does not seem to be any evidence of natural disaster - or disease or even conflict; just some sort of total lack of business activity and government presence, including police, and all known personages of any level of any previous authority - though their absence is not addressed or questioned. I and about five or six others are the ones to seek and bring back supplies to where the people that are still around have gathered. Curiously, Josh Holloway (the actor from “Lost” and “Intelligence”) is one of the in-dream team. (This is probably because “Intelligence” is one of the only newer television shows I have watched in recent years.) We are getting together food supplies (from various abandoned grocery stores and such) to bring back in a large semitrailer, even though there is not much fuel left (probably just enough for one longer trip back to where we had journeyed from).

There is a longer period of time spent talking with Josh, who works under my command. He has an extraordinarily pessimistic attitude towards life in general and cannot seem to understand my positive focus on my survival skills and general ways of thinking. He does not even understand my happy outlook or the joy I have often experienced in life. Oddly, he even questions me on ideas about how to talk to people as if he had never communicated with anyone in his life before. This attitude may be partly based on our present and ongoing situation, but it seems as if that has always been his nature. We are packing cardboard boxes with mostly canned goods and boxed food items.

For some reason, at one point, we are moving a refrigerator full of food down from what seems like an upper walkway from a dam control room (again, unsure of the region or location). There does not seem to be much logic to this act, as the pulley gets jammed for a short time and I think it would make more sense to put the food in different containers than to move the entire clumsy heavy refrigerator, but it is one of our last tasks before we return to feed the people and sustain them for a time.

We are then ready to return to the group of people to have the food stored in their chosen locations. I am driving the semi for a time, but things start to change before I begin. I notice loud music being played from a house (in the direction behind us) that was presumed to be empty, just as we are leaving. This seems unusual in that there is not supposed to be any electricity (though it does not come to mind that it could be a battery-operated portable stereo - though it does seem a bit too loud for that possibility anyway). Mostly, other members of the team look back only briefly and we just ignore it and focus on the job of getting back to the others. We do not actually see anyone else around at first.

Eventually though, and surprisingly, there are suddenly police all around (even though police supposedly no longer existed), and a lot of other people just appearing in the streets “out of nowhere”, some of them politicians. It turns out that this was some kind of “experiment” or government project (similar to fake prostitute setups and other fake setups created by the authorities as if there was not enough real crime to act against) to see what people would do in a survival situation (or after the disappearance of government) - and apparently it was “wrong” for us to get food and other supplies from abandoned stores to help other people survive - a few people are being marched to a prison, apparently, just for taking discarded food items from the back of a store, from a dumpster. Instead of driving a semi at this point, I then seem to be on a large adult tricycle made of cheap plastic, but still determined to get the trailer of supplies back to the people, as many of them have not eaten for a time. A siren is going the whole time from here (this was actually caused by my youngest son playing a computer game in the kitchen - though the siren sound is somewhat different in-dream).

A police officer in some sort of odd-looking helmet and pastel fake-looking “riot gear” keeps telling me to pull over but I ignore him and much of what he is saying sounds like gibberish, so I very loudly keep saying that I do not understand him and just keep driving, or rather peddling. The other people are still with me (in the semitrailer) and it is my intent to get back to my group - because really, it still seems like a survival situation - in some ways, even more now. Even though he stands in front of the vehicle a few times, I just keep going and he eventually moves to safety each time, but continuing to shout gibberish, some of the phrases fairly long.

There is a very clear and focused awareness that this is really the end of society (or at least the present system of authority) because of what the government has done, so thus the public will eventually act upon this fiasco. I inform a few people during our trip back that, because of this trick that the government has played, there really will be an apocalypse now within a few days, where it will be much the same as when they were pretending with their “experiment”. Realistically though, I doubt this would ever happen no matter what is done to the public by any source.

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Morning of August 14, 2014. Thursday.



The first part of my dream has something to do with separating junk mail from real mail. Part of it also involves a small stack of A4-sized order forms and I believe at least one catalog. I am not sure of the location though it has some aspects of my sister’s kitchen, but is a larger room.

For some reason, I decide to make pink-frosted donuts, which has something to do with a baking kit (actually a set of several, each in a different package) with the ingredients and such having arrived in the mail that day, though my wife and I had apparently gotten these shipments for free, possibly by an oversight of the company (though perhaps a promotion that was incorrectly duplicated a few times to the same address). There is also an ambiguous idea that they may turn out to be soft sandwich cookies instead, and with vanilla frosting in the middle. I am trying to work out, when putting them in the rectangular baking tin, if there is going to be enough for a six by two arrangement or an eight by two arrangement. There seems to be only enough dough for seven and the different parts of dough are uneven. My sister (Marilyn, now deceased) makes a comment about how I am not doing it correctly, which is somewhat annoying. I put the dough all back together to start over and there also seems to be icing mixed in by that point, even though I had not yet actually had it out.

Trying to place the individual donuts into the tin again results in a problem. There then seems to be thin, larger, randomly shaped rusty pieces of the baking tin flaking off from the bottom (reminding me a little of what happened to my thermos in primary school years ago) and getting mixed into the dough - but at that point it does not seem to matter as much as another illogical problem. There are now seemingly a fair number of pre-made small and thin disc-like sections (reminding me a little of miniature communion wafers, I suppose - though I never saw any in real life) of tougher dough all mashed together in one corner of the tin, seemingly enough for at least a dozen or more smaller sandwich cookies. They were apparently supposed to be placed singularly (followed by a layer of icing and an additional “disc” for each) but now would be hard to separate. Most of the icing has now ended up in one blob mixed with other pieces of dough. I am more annoyed.

After a short time, the dough actually seems baked even though I had not yet put it in the oven. I inform my sister that the would-be donuts are too much like light cake in texture at this point. Somehow though, the contents of the tin go back to how they were before the other events happened. I get so annoyed that I catapult the contents of the tin into a mostly empty dumpster outside.

I start two other sessions of attempts to make these things, figuring that if one goes wrong the other may still turn out. (I still do not know if I am making pink-frosted donuts or white cream sandwich cookies.) I mentally cause butter to form at the bottom of each tin (oddly, without realizing you cannot just imagine things to materialize into a baking tin in real life), a lot of it in fact (but uneven in placement), so that when the dough is placed (also materialized mentally by this point as if I am teleporting the contents of the unopened remaining kits and using telekinesis to shape the dough after separating it into smaller parts), I soon, after not being satisfied with how much is in each uneven piece, once again start over with the mashed dough and it eventually changes into a darker and darker color, with apparently too much oil mixed in, by which I am sure may affect the taste and probably result in a health issue. I continue, though, but once again start to get annoyed before my dream loses cohesion.

Thus this turns out to be a typical non-lucid “nothing works for a step by step task” dream because of dreams often refusing to form into a proper continuity or chronological cohesion or stability in general (due to critical-thinking and common sense usually being defunct in most types of dreams), which I find somewhat amusing in afterthought as a major lucid trigger failure.