non-lucid

Morning of April 24, 2014. Thursday.



It is late at night, but I am going to walk to the store to buy food and supplies. The house seems to be the one from Stadcor Street but later seems rotated in orientation and is then the one from Barolin Street, but the store is apparently in a perpendicular direction and area as to what it was in real life as well as in the opposite direction from the city. I will be walking there with my two oldest children. It is about five or six blocks away.

I look at a clock high on the wall above the kitchen doorway and I see that the time is about five minutes after midnight. Because the store closes at midnight (a fictitious aspect of my dream only), I decide not to go. Still, my dream resets, changes at least twice, and we are walking in that direction at least twice, without my dream continuing from that point. In one scene, I have two screwdrivers I carry for self-defense.

Later, after another dream reset, when we go out again, it is late morning. My dream self does not consider the time change. This time, we are going to the store we had been in real life (in the correct direction). About six younger males of around sixteen years old are wandering about in two front yards. An unknown light-haired Caucasian woman of about forty years of age is sitting on the steps in front of the house next door to us (on the left from the street viewpoint). She does not seem to care what the boys (all Caucasian) do to her house, even the breaking of a window.

She makes an obnoxious remark about how I do not want the troublemakers in our yard. She looks like Queen Elizabeth II at about forty (other than the hair color). My children and I end up back at our house, mostly to make sure the troublemakers do not get in.

An older unfamiliar man walks through our front yard, which also annoys me. He complains about my complaining. He makes obnoxious gestures and goes to the woman’s house. I call out after him, “Is that what you do all day?” I think he may be the woman’s relative.

Later, the woman is on our porch and she is condescending, though I do not remember the conversation. She is very tall, perhaps seven feet, and homelier than I had originally thought. She has a strange unrealistic body shape. Her teeth are large, square, and paper-like in thinness and texture. There seems to be more than one row, both top and bottom, oriented inward at different angles. I make a comment later to Zsuzsanna, in a short false awakening, that one of the woman’s teeth was as big as my face (like getting the impression of a blank sheet of paper held up in front of my face). Her size does not intimidate me. I think of being face to face with a cow, which is nonthreatening. The impression she leaves me with is a huge crooked smile and a wave of her hand as she leaves. I remain uncertain of her intent, but I shift into the brief false awakening before fully waking.

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The porch setting is typical autosymbolism for the preconscious (RAS) factor as representing the waking process. This is because a porch is liminal space in real life, so its essence is not even symbolic in the superstitious sense.

The focus on the personified preconscious (often rendered as either a celebrity or a complete unknown, irrelevant to my conscious self, though often dominant or authoritative, as that is how RAS functions biologically as the waking alert factor) and her teeth is similar to the very common dream of losing teeth. It has no “meaning” other than an indication that the dream self cannot communicate with the outside world while sleeping, and thus it is a form of autosymbolism simply indicating dream state cessation. Instead of the liminal focus on my own illusory dream state “mouth” and losing teeth to validate it is only a dream, my focus shifts to the preconscious factor (which is due to having held such a deep understanding of my dreams since early childhood).

The absence of the fence in front of the house we no longer live is a dream state factor, as fences otherwise represent the division of the fictitious dream self identity and the conscious self identity in waking life. It is rendered as part of the waking process and as I am not directly near waking (or with liminal awareness of nearing the waking transition) at the point the scene is rendered, there is no fence.[/I]

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Morning of April 24, 2014. Thursday.



I become semi-lucidly aware of my common water induction stage (though semi-lucidity of which does not continue viably), but the swimming pool I perceive seems only about half the depth it should be. (Thus, a precursor of water lowering waking symbolism is already present.) I notice that one of my dumbbells, with weights, is at the bottom of the pool. The water is clear.

I sense that other people are around, a few looking in my direction, yet I do not see them. I find myself handling a large green viper. I am wary but I do not feel as if I am in immediate danger. Unseen people seem to come closer to my apparent public performance. Eventually, I look at my hand and see only a small green caterpillar crawling on the back of it. I am puzzled, trying to recall what it originally was that I was holding.

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As a caterpillar is associated with butterflies and moths, it is probably a precursor to vestibular system correlation (including in cases where the ear “flutters”), offset from what started as RAS modulation (the snake, which is the most common biological form of the waking alert factor as RAS modulation). Non-lucid dream control came into the sequence as it often has in previous dreams. I had non-lucidly transformed the RAS modulation factor as well as the potential vestibular system correlation.

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Morning of April 21, 2014. Monday.



This was a very long and convoluted dream (nearly novel-length) with many scenes and aspects. I will try to include mostly only the main scenes, yet even so, it will end up being a much larger entry. They do seem like completely separate parts upon first look, but I did not wake during any part which actually seemed to continue from the previous.

In one, my family and I are in the house at Stadcor Street in Brisbane. However, it also has a general look of the first floor (where the owners lived) of the boarding house on King Street. This is mostly relative to the additional windows and side door. There is a powerful storm of heavy rain, leaves, and wind. It seems that it will be very destructive. I notice our youngest son and youngest daughter outside (although very close to the window and under the eaves, so seemingly safe from the main downwards force) and yell for them to come into the house. They somehow come into the kitchen from outside (fictional entrance) and I then notice that the weather is actually uneventful now - and it is as if the “storm” was only somehow a vertical “layer” in one area or perimeter. A few other people are around then, mostly unknown. My wife’s brother Simon and his old girlfriend show up with laptop computers in the kitchen. I have my own computer, but oddly, it is able to change into different forms based on what website you go to or what commands you send. For example, at one point, it is only like a thin piece of vinyl which I continue to use as such. I complain to Simon about how the browser changes everything and how it is hard to type on thin, wavy surfaces, as well as the overall concept of typing on a sheet of plastic seeming utterly idiotic and problematic regardless of its “more advanced” status. Apparently, after a few more commands or particular website view, my original large monitor will rise up, self-built, and be “normal” again and the keyboard will revert to a normal one.

Later, I am outside at what almost seems like a rummage sale or garage sale setup, but hardly anyone is there. I meet with an old friend, David S (the place seems to be his), and we sit at a large makeshift table. We get into talking about our school days and he shows me some copies of schoolwork he still has that is still in the notebook. The writing is rather sparse over the page and seemingly in different styles. I ask him about where he went to school during certain time periods, which does not make much sense as he supposedly did not go to my school in the earlier years but only in the higher grades. The reality is actually the opposite of my dream’s conversation.

Later, I seem to be in the community center near Schuh Homes (where blocks of housing looked so much the same from one to the next, I never worked out how people could find their own house or even the right street), where I had only been once in real life for a group rummage sale. A few classmates from my early years are there, including Susan R (the “other”) yet again. I have this strange blue static electricity coming out of me in larger bolts, which sometimes happens in dreams with Susan. However, we are all still only in our early teens. My wife is also there. Susan’s mother tells me that I am married and there can be only one Yin and Yang, so I should not approach her, as the universe has been formed as such and it would cause a greater imbalance and thus cause people’s minds to shift into a more chaotic and “unaware” state than they already are in. (In reality, she is also married but still living in Florida according to two other people I know.) However, I still talk to her for awhile. The blue lightning continues to move about from my body, mostly from the palms of my hand, fingers, and arms, sometimes breaking a window. She is crying for some reason, probably more out of strange memories of the so-called paranormal (or perhaps my supposed “tampering with the timeline” - very curious and coincidental that Facebook has something called a “timeline” now and this is how I found out about her present-day status - thus once again a childhood dream is “resolved”), assuming the “selective amnesia” and “veil” has not become a major part of her thinking as with most.

There is a short, bizarre scene later on where an unknown male is pretending to be a newborn baby to somehow get access to (or eventually inherit) a younger female’s wealth. As she is driving the convertible and holding him, she seems to realize he is not actually a baby (due to how long his body is - not sure how she is able to hold him horizontally across her lap and drive at the same time) and soon throws him out of the car onto the street. He is annoyed but somehow uninjured, and is then planning his next move, which is integrated into the next odd scene.

Later, my wife and family and I are living in some sort of odd composite of Cubitis and the (rotated - perpendicular to real orientation) Stadcor Street house - which later has features of my sister’s house in La Crosse. We have a very large front yard that has mostly a gritty sandstone surface. Somehow, the house next door (where the aforementioned con artist lives) seems to integrate into at least one room of our house (a fairly common dream distortion). It is a tad confusing, as I am not sure where the other person’s room ends and mine (relative to my childhood bedroom) begins. There is a curtain that can be drawn across one doorway but I am not sure if my room continues around the corner of that area of the house, as I do not even know what items are mine. There are a lot of items on the floor there (so many that you would not be able to walk through without stepping on something or knocking something aside). It reminds me vaguely of the armory (actually used as a game room) in Arcadia. I notice several even stacks of playing cards on the floor - with the design on the back that shows a drawing of a “flapper girl” in an intricate web-like design around an oval framing her, from about the waist up. She is drinking from a cocktail glass and seen slightly from the side (but not in profile). The design appears in at least two colors. It almost looks like two people had been playing a game of “War” (in the card game sense).

Eventually, when I am outside, an eighty-year-old lady starts talking to me. Apparently, I have a lot of various small items of hers that somehow blew into our front yard. However, the con artist next door has a lot more of her possessions that were taken deliberately. I look down and notice an old pair of smaller attached identical postage stamps that are a grayish green and seemingly showing Queen Elizabeth in profile. This may or may not belong to the older lady. I do give her some things, which are different stamps and a few other items (including a pen, I believe). Her dog is also in the other yard, but I cannot get to it from where I am.

Later, the other male has two smaller moose heads in the game-trophy-type design, which are not actually real moose heads, but some sort of antique novelty whereby the mouth opens and a man and woman move about in a circle on a platform, as with a novelty clock. One is slightly bigger than the other. He puts them on the wall right next to each other, decides it does not look quite right, and arranges them differently (this is similar to a previous dream where people were not quite satisfied with paintings put up too close together).

Eventually, I discover skin coming off the palm of my right hand as it is sore and red at first (possibly caused by the blue lightning coming out from earlier or in handling some of the antique novelty items). However, it seemingly soon turns out to be “worse” than first thought - but that concern passes. Without much effort in trying to get the extra skin off that is flaking around the wound, the rest of the entire skin of my hand and fingers comes off in one larger opaque “sheet”, but like a light soft layer of fine material. It then seems okay and not what was originally believed. My hand looks perfectly healed and fresh underneath.

Finally, a recurring image; a human “eye” that is actually made up of a black “fetal sack” (or some sort of developing “egg”) as the pupil, and lightning forming parts of the pattern of the iris, with the sclera being the less defined “background noise” of the path of an individual. This represents the human eye as attaining particular forms of focus (via “lightning”) and processed into the “egg” of the individual - until one’s mind is more aware.

Morning of April 20, 2014. Sunday.



This dream is fairly long but does not have a coherent plot or theme. It mostly involves slowly going from an unknown city (which may be part of a composite including La Crosse and Brisbane) into an unknown forest, which then becomes a bit denser, although it seems to have a few old abandoned buildings. As I do so, I feel better and better.

There is one setting prior to going into the woods to the east that appears to be my sister’s house but which is actually some sort of school or is at least set up as such. Somehow, I am apparently a young student (possibly sixth grade, though later everyone seems a bit younger) but am not directly active in any class even though I sense I could be or should be. Instead, I walk around noticing that the area looks more like some sort of complex display of various interesting colorful magazines and puzzle books. Some are upright on stands and others are arranged evenly, spread over tables in playing-card-like spans. For some reason, I feel very cheerful at this point even though in the back of my mind I think I should be spending more time directly taking any classes at the scene.

The teacher and students are all unknown. As I am walking along, a few seemingly cheerful students follow me. They seem to care a lot about me (or my destination) and I make a sincere comment of how I wish I was much younger again. This seems to create a strong presence of believing that people of the same age get along much better and that this part of my dream is somehow unique in that it is supposedly unusual for people of different ages to socialize at all.

At any rate, the sense of cheerfulness is quite elevated. A bit later, we go into an area that is somehow associated with Yakov Smirnoff. This could be some sort of rude juvenile play on words, though it is a name I have no real clue about even though it sounds vaguely familiar (something from many years ago, perhaps). I am thinking that it may be a famous tennis player or skier, or more likely a political figure, I begin to reason. My dream then distorts the name into “Yarkov Smornov” and I eventually get the idea that the name or anything similar to it is completely fictional (though it is not - he is actually a Soviet-born American comedian that I really have never seen much of in my lifetime). Thinking on it, I notice that “Yakov’s” reversed letters read as “V Okay”, but that association is not complete to the scenario and why the name came up from “nowhere”. Because of this, it may have actual relevance to something in the near future, but on a very impersonal level.

Morning of April 16, 2014. Wednesday.



This was a fairly long dream, but many of the details are not quite clear (assuming they were clear from the beginning). My wife and family and I are seemingly living in my sister’s older house on Loomis Street. It is a bit different, though, and has an extra broom closet in one area near the kitchen. We are visited by an unknown male who dies somehow and by which it seems he should then be hidden in the house (in the fictional broom closet) until it is decided what should be done.

Sometime later, Art Carney shows up as his Norton character, but a bit older than that character implied on “The Honeymooners”. I believe he is looking for the other man relating to some money he owes him (to be paid by him soon) or some such. Art Carney also dies somehow (not violently) and is hidden under a mattress for a time.

Because of the house filling up with bodies, perhaps we should move to a new address, I reason, so we start putting our belongings in a few boxes. I am not sure when and where we are moving.

A little later, an older detective shows up and starts asking questions. I am not sure how he knew that the two men had been to our house, and it had only been a very short time since they were reported “missing”. Looking closely, I notice that he appears to be Art Carney and thus had not died in my dream earlier. He is wearing glasses and appears to be wearing makeup to alter his face in a very similar manner as Tom Hanks at the beginning of the movie “Cloud Atlas”. I say to him, “oh, you’re Art Carney” thinking it is amusing that he “died” in my dream, and is now pretending to investigate the situation as if it is some sort of game or scene from a movie that is being rehearsed.

However, he denies that he is Art Carney (even though it actually is him or at least a fictional twin) but is not threatening in any way. My dream starts to decay after this (perhaps because I was able to “see” who he really was), but this was the most vivid scenario.

This is related to several real-life events and facts that are very cleverly linked to things I am well aware of (including a relentless Internet troll who seems obsessed with me for whatever reason). Carney is a play, apparently on “Carnivore”, and is also related to the “Emperor Norton” dream about the “village idiot” (as Art Carney played a character named Norton who worked in the sewers - again, on “The Honeymooners” television show - but not relative in any way to Emperor Norton even though there is an incidental association here). It is also relative to the Art Carney movie “Harry and Tonto” as well as the term “carnal knowledge”. The number of multiple layers and associations are fascinating, but in that regard, the “show is over”, thus the deaths in my dream. I no longer need to waste time focusing on the “village idiot”.

Morning of April 13, 2014. Sunday.



I am wandering about seemingly on the north-side of La Crosse but not in or near any places of people I know. I am apparently looking for something, but I am not sure what. I am absentmindedly assuming I am near my (fictional) home where my wife Zsuzsanna and our family live (even though they have never lived in America).

I eventually find myself near an area that looks sort of like a very large garage that comes out from an area covering at least half of three different backyards. It is fully open on one side to the east. There are three beds with the head assumed to be to the west wall. There are a couple cars also parked on the south side from where I am, parallel to the beds. I decide to lie down on the northernmost bed to have a rest from all my walking. The beds are clean and seemingly recently made.

A short time later, a car pulls in and parks at the southern end near the third bed. A male and female get out of the car. The girl of about twenty or so comes over and lies down in the bed I am in without paying much attention to me. She is pregnant, seemingly about eight to nine months, possibly nearly ready to give birth. The man comes over but is involved in something else and remains standing. I say something about not knowing that the bed was theirs but no one else says anything or seems to notice. I wake up before I get out of the bed in my dream.

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This dream is mostly a dream sign in itself (a bed being the most obvious dream sign). It also hints that a car in a dream is a residual memory of the dreamer’s bed. In this case, the garage is the liminal space. The otherwise unknown characters at the end are an “opposite” play on my wife Zsuzsanna and me waking up.

Morning of April 13, 2014. Sunday.



In my dream, there are birds talking outside, but it does not seem that unusual at all (as parrots and other species do “talk” after all). These are possibly some sort of large parrot. They are in the trees on the opposite side of the street from our present home. It seems very important to write down the six or seven phrases they are speaking over a longer time period, but I forget most of the phrases except for one. This last one is “sung” in a sort of monotone, which is “Get a raven”, said with each syllable emphasized equally (and note that my family and I did look after a raven for a few weeks a few years ago). I tell my wife Zsuzsanna what the birds are saying (trying to imitate the “croaky” sound somewhat), but then I realize it seems rather strange to claim that birds are speaking English and thus get pulled out of my dream, forgetting what I felt was more interesting than that last phrase.

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I am adding the “dream journal synchronicity” tag (tumblr and a couple other sites that allow longer tags as such) because of this entry posted after mine: The Amazing Talking Birds

Morning of April 7, 2014. Monday.



I am in Cubitis in my father’s original music room (southwest corner of the house). I am not sure of the time. It may be early afternoon.

An unknown girl is in the room and, in fact, it seems to be her room. (Of course, it is possible that a girl, or even a female artist, occupies this room now in real life - I have no way of knowing.)

There are various sets of A2 sheets of paper, mostly in several pads. There are also a couple unfinished cream canvases. She is some sort of well-known artist, it seems, but I do not know her name at any point.

The main scene involves me making art “for her” or to help her with the foundation of a pattern somehow, as she is somehow behind on her drawings or paintings (not sure what the situation is). I end up drawing various curving random parallel lines from the left to the right. That is mostly all that happens. I make at least two, the second being far more sparse, with only a few lines. There is no discernible form or shape.

A little later, I notice a thin dark-haired man in glasses kissing her. I ask her if she has three boyfriends and get a “no” from her. Somehow, I am also thinking of a male at a bus-stop somewhere who is “also” supposedly her boyfriend, but not in actuality somehow. It does not make much sense. It may very vaguely relate to a movie we saw last night, “Le battement d'ailes du papillon”, fairly interesting but a bit contrived (though an amusing look into cause and effect).

Parallel lines “never meet”. This may be a play on the two lines being the girl and I - and us “never meeting” in reality, even though I do not have a clear idea on who the girl might be or represent. However, looking at it in another way, it may mean that I remain (or should remain) in uniformity and balance with the females in my life (especially including my wife and daughters).

Night of March 28, 2014. Friday.



This dream (or connected series) had a lot of unrelated facets without much cohesion, yet still seemed to build a foundation for a different dream that came later.

There is some sort of bizarre event relating to a truck being driven by someone going a fair distance (possibly from one state to another). However, the truck is actually “wrapped” in sections of cloth (all the way around) almost like a mummy - so that the driver cannot see where he is going. At one point, this seems to be because his vehicle needs to be held together as such in this way. What follows is some sort of bizarre argument relating to this and whether or not the truck even has a driver or anyone inside or if someone just did this as a practical joke somehow and sent the truck on its way with either a remote control or some other method. The scene is never really resolved. My brother-in-law Bob is there and seems angry about the events.

After this is a completely different scene. I am at the ocean on a very nice day. Several other people are off to my right, mostly older people. The water off the shore is very shallow, not much more than three feet deep for probably a fair distance. The older men are in the water, sitting down with legs out. No one is fishing. Every now and then, a fish swims by and seems to direct some sort of “energy pulse” to their feet as well as bite off loose skin or supposed toxins. (This is possibly a play on when I was very young and minnows nibbled on my toes from a boat dock.)

After this, I am at sister Marlyn’s house in somewhat of a strange mood. It dawns on me (yet again) that she is “gone from the house” (has died). I end up going to the front door seemingly late at night (that goes out to the porch) for no particular reason. However, it is very different. There is no porch where one should be. Instead, a van is parked very close to the door, lengthwise (facing north). A man and a woman are in the van and mostly in shadow and supposedly there to deliver a package. They ask me if I knew they were there and for some reason, I lie and say “yes” and end up implying to them I had heard something so came to check (when, again, this was not actually the case at all - I just did not want to appear to have been caught off-guard).

Morning of March 27, 2014. Thursday.



Despite the date being March 27, my dream self perceives the date as October 31; Halloween. My dream is set in Rockdale, which is a town in New South Wales where I have never been. (Rockdale is about an hour’s drive north from where my wife was born in Port Kembla.)

My family and I are in a large room that seems to be in a school or educational venue but with associations of an informal party. We are on the leftmost side of the room. There are Halloween decorations present, including paper chains of orange and black. There are also drawings and paintings of traditional Australian Aboriginal art and about one-fourth of the others are of Australian Aboriginal heritage.

The teacher seems to have similar attributes as my wife Zsuzsanna. Most of the students are from about three years to about sixteen. I seem to be young, perhaps around eighteen, even though I am vaguely aware of my conscious self identity, though not enough to trigger lucidity.

On my left, I see a handmade A2 poster, presumably made by some of the students. It seems to be about my heritage, including a family tree. However, in looking more closely, I see it claims that I am from the town of Tecumseh in Ontario, Canada. Other towns are mentioned - mostly variations of “Tecumseh” and my last name (which happens to be an actual town in Missouri). Thus, instead of being a reliable family tree, it is a “travel tree” relating to where people are from or have been (though its details are incorrect).

I am offered to select from a sheet pan (baking tray) of cinnamon rolls. They are made to look like snails. I pick up one of them and eat it. It has a very nice flavor, somewhat like baklava, with a bit of strawberry.

Later, an unfamiliar girl goes outside at the request of the teacher. It seems related to a traditional event. Soon, I and others follow. A tornadic waterspout approaches from the distance, following the road, heading towards our building. It seems threatening, yet there is a remarkable beauty in its shininess and overall appearance. The young girl seems to have goddess-like powers and purpose. She hovers about three feet above the ground, with arms horizontally outwards to each side. She performs a pirouette in mid-air, implying some sort of counter-force as the waterspout moves closer. Its winds throw her into a scaffold, head first (causing brief unconsciousness), though the tornadic forces do become a bit weaker and less of a threat. (This seems to be a variation of a dream from early childhood where I was about to stop a tornado by turning a merry-go-round to counteract it, knowing I would win against it. This part of my dream also seems to have an association with the “Deep Space Nine” episode “The Storyteller” regarding a traditional defeat of a monster cloud by a chosen person. The storm cloud was called “Dal'Rok”, similar to “Rockdale” with the syllables reversed, which is probably not a coincidence as dreams often distort words in this way.)

The girl recovers quickly and gets up to do more pirouettes, each one just slightly touching the outer forces of the tornadic waterspout and making it smaller each time. There is a change in its color each time. I decide to help her. I go and get the sheet pan and throw the “snails” (cinnamon rolls) into the twister. Each time, there is also a beautiful spread of different colors. Eventually, in lessening it each time with both our acts, it dissipates.

I look back and see that other people, coming out of the building, are very happy and appreciative that we have defeated the storm. A few of them even applaud as I wake.

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Although this dream is obviously RAS-based waking symbolism as is usually the case, there are presumably also spiritual associations (Yin and Yang balance) with the affirmation “I am made of the healthiest energies in the universe” utilized with special audio for several hours and before this dream. This also comes from the line “snips and snails” after “what are little boys made of?” and “sugar and spice” after “what are little girls made of?”, thus my preconscious creates snails made of sugar and spice to symbolize balance and unity as related to health, additionally symbolized by the Yin and Yang implication of opposite tornadic forces, first appearing in my dreams as such in early childhood. Although a sustained affirmation directly influenced this dream, I do not consider it scripted (which involves most dream detail deliberately structured beforehand, not just a foundational affirmation).

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Of course, on a mundane level (core symbolism of the dream state itself), a tornado is simply the augmented association with RAS when linked with inner ear dynamics (similar to what triggers dizziness or passing out in real life, the opposite of waking symbolism). This is validated by the snails, which visually also symbolize RAS inner ear dynamics (cochlea, though it is the vestibular apparatus directly linked to balance, though cochlea implants are known to cause dizziness in people who get them).

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Additional personal notes: As it was a waterspout (though on land), this dream fits into the “water lowering waking symbolism”, a factor of at least one dream per sleeping period for over fifty years. However, such waking symbolism is typically not a dream self dynamic, more often occurring on its own or with a passive focus.

Both the teacher and the young girl in the final segment seemed to be different versions of Zsuzsanna, who was also present, though younger than the teacher version.

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Morning of March 20, 2014. Thursday.



I am seemingly at my sister Marilyn’s house, but it is not represented as such at all in my dream. Instead, I believe it is some sort of building where there is a documentary being pieced together - the otherwise large kitchen seems to be the main newsroom where the guests are discussing their fringe lifestyle. It concerns a group of about ten people who are involved in an isolated religious sect or cult to where they can only marry “alien cats” or whatever. These “alien cat people” are supposedly from a distant planet that has some sort of secret ties with the Earth and are somehow genetically compatible with humans.

However, the truth is being delved into in that the “cat people” are not really aliens but genetically and surgically altered domestic cats. There is a point at which I see one of the altered cats walking about somewhat clumsily on its two hind legs while only being slightly bigger than a typical house cat.

At a later point, a larger cat seems to try to eat my hand in the “living room” (this obviously comes from an image I saw on another user’s entry on one site as well as their dream itself). The room is different in that it has some sort of thinner fiberboard utility wall for tools or cords on the southern side and through the middle, halving the size of the area where I am. I do not think I can “reason” with the cat. It is quite annoying, but I am not hurt. It dawns on me eventually that it would be quite problematic to be “married” to an alien cat person even if such had any other potential relative to the media attention or weird isolationist religion.

Morning of March 19, 2014. Wednesday.



This morning I dreamt of a familiar well-known actor who had long brown hair and who appeared to be about twenty-five years old. However, I could not remember his name. I also could not remember what movies I had seen him in. I thought and thought about it and his name did not come to me, even after several hours. Later, in real life, I had to go shopping for groceries. While walking past the meat section, and seeing a pack of processed bacon, it suddenly dawned on me and I remembered his name. Kevin Bacon. How amusing.

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In my dream, I am not sure of where I am living. I believe it is my older sister Marilyn’s house. (Marilyn died this year on February 13th.) The rest of the neighborhood is very different than real life. There is a large field directly to the north. There are a few cars here and there. These cars all seem to either belong to Kevin Bacon, or he is fixing them up for friends and relatives. He seems very cheerful and friendly, and quite young compared to his present real age. He is mostly using an orbital sander on the bodies of the cars at first, mostly the fronts. However, he eventually goes inside a van and does some sort of welding and a very strange mood enters my dream - as if it is very likely that there will be an explosion caused by whatever he is doing in the van. Still, that never happens regardless of how anticipated it is.

I converse with him about the type of paint he is using relating to the automobiles and how the finish is completed. A strange idea is discussed about how a car only needs a finer finish in the front and how the back can just be left with a rough finish (supposedly because people only care about or look at the front of a car). He has much work to do but seems like a close friend and is happily tolerant of my impositions and presence as I ask him various questions. (I am not one hundred percent certain, but I do not presently recall dreaming of Kevin Bacon prior to this.)

My sister Marilyn eventually makes an appearance but she is somewhat transparent and not clearly defined, almost as if her presence is only an image from elsewhere. Her head, a bit larger than it should be, appears in our backyard at our present address (as my dream seems to shift to a different setting) at about the correct height, and she expresses an interest in the environment as she “walks” farther from the back of our house (more on the side closest the west fence that faces the street), but I never see the rest of her.

Morning of March 17, 2014. Monday.



I am riding in an unfamiliar nice car with a few other people. They remain unknown until the last scene. I am in the back seat. As we are going along through a mostly rural area during late afternoon, I get the vague idea to journey into “my” Enchanted Forest setting (even though I am not lucid at any point in my dream). I almost always enter it at about a twenty-two degree angle from the northern treeline while going east (depending on the overall directional orientation, which is sometimes ambiguous) but in this case, we seem to be traveling on the south edge of the area. I have gone in from other directions in dreams of years ago, but the fictional area “looks different” in that it is less Florida-like than usual.

I give instructions on where to turn and the car goes in (to my right) at about a thirty degree angle and I notice another car parked along the road as we go down the road through the dense forest. As we go along, four more cars are parked on the left side of the road in fairly close proximity, and there are also several buildings (left side only other than the small restaurant near where the road merges with the highway - which is to the right), mostly rural residential and not uniform as would be the case in an urban setting. It seems quite annoying and “wrong” that there are other people here - especially human-built structures. Not only that, we quickly come to the other side that opens out onto a highway of the same basic appearance as the one we had been on just before turning. My Enchanted Forest and secret “place of power” thus only seems about two city blocks wide, if that. I state my annoyance but not that aggressively. I am disappointed (but there is no embarrassment as would be the case in a more vivid dream when an “audience” is present as here).

We get out and look around. There are no other people around as if the area had been temporarily abandoned. I do not think there are health concerns (as perhaps a result of a chemical spill or whatever) - it just seems that the people left inexplicably, leaving their cars along the road as well. This may not be my Enchanted Forest. The inactive and seemingly abandoned outdoor restaurant has unlocked accessible shelves, where I grab a box of Kellogg’s Corn Flakes cereal and a carton of milk, as I am feeling hungry. “Doc” from “Gunsmoke” (Milburn Stone) does the same thing and is soon seated near me (to my right) at an outdoor counter, which is higher up than a picnic table, although I believe he took a box of Post’s Sugar Krinkles.

Soon, James Arness (probably the car’s driver - I had not been paying much attention), as his Matt Dillon character, starts complaining about how we all stole the cereal. (The other cast members are also apparently hungry, including Amanda Blake and Ken Curtis.) He says something in a somewhat dramatic and patronizing manner - along the lines of “it was honest men that made this country what it is and built it up to the great country it is today” (referring more to the 1870s America, I think).

I turn around and boldly, without hesitation, look at him face to face, “…and men need food and nourishment to live or there would be no men in the first place to make this country,” I reply sarcastically. I then start to loudly call him a number of rude slang names in a few different languages, including curse words and obnoxious phrases. I and the others continue to eat our cereal with no additional drama or conflict.

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The personified preconscious in this case is James Arness as Matt Dillon. His accusations of me (and “Gunsmoke” cast members other than him) stealing the cereal are of course ridiculous. One cannot steal anything in their own dream. This is perhaps because I am not yet awake and eating a real breakfast, so I am possibly wasting time by “stealing” the idea of eating it (without getting real nutrition). (The preconscious as this character is perhaps exaggerating how big and strong I can be by waking up and eating a real breakfast.)

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Morning of March 16, 2014. Sunday.

Dream #: 17,254-04. Reading time: 1 min 15 sec.



I am unsure where I am living. I seem to be my present age, though I am also in a house with a character that looks like my father at certain times. Zsuzsanna is living here and maybe my mother. The house is somewhat like the one from Barolin Street.

I move a few of my belongings to maintain order. At one point, I see the furniture is in a different arrangement, and I am angry (although the rooms are tidy). I yell about how things have been changed and plan on moving everything back the way it was. It was my “father” that did this. (I have never yelled at my father in real life. We had a positive spiritual relationship.)

My “father” is varied each time, with his head an odd shape and with a different face. There is a scene where he resembles him more. His legs seem to grow thinner, and he may be having a fit. I ask him several times if he needs an ambulance.

Two couches, chairs, some of my belongings, and bookcases are in the center of a room in a pile. Zsuzsanna seems annoyed. He seems to have done it as an act against the criticism received from moving the furniture in the previous scene.

I am concerned about where everything is. There is a point where my “father” hits me but lightly, by punching my cheek, barely making an impact. (It seems to be the Barolin Street kitchen). (My father never hit me in real life.) I create a drama about a court case as the result of this action, asking Zsuzsanna to “call my lawyer.” (I never had a lawyer in real life.) I call my “father” a skinny “punk.” At this point, he seems much younger than me; a blonde Caucasian, barely older than a ninth-grader. His clothes change throughout as well.

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Morning of March 14, 2014. Friday.



Yes, I know…but my brain is too tired (too warm here) to come up with something creative or at least endurable for the title.

This dream has two mostly unrelated sections offset from each other and was kind of hard to follow, but I can summarize a few ideas including the movie-like “twist ending”.

I think it is in the 1980s in my dream. At one point, there seems to be a fictional house closer to the highway and just north of my Cubitis home where the first north/south row of the orange grove would be in reality. I have never dreamt of this fictional house or orientation before. I am in what is possibly the living room and an unknown person throws an orange at me through the doorway from somewhere near the neighbor’s house just south of us - or rather, it hits the ground outside and rolls through the doorway. I do not see the person; the orange just comes flying out of nowhere, but near ground level. Lisa is not living there, though. I pick up a steel bar to go knock the person unconscious for doing that.

I assume the house is abandoned for some reason (recurring), but there is a car parked in the driveway. I open the front door and there is a large bed in the middle of the living room and a television in the northwest corner of the main living room area. The size, ceiling height, and everything else seems fairly close to reality other than the bed. (However, there are some unusual additional shrubs covering much of one area of the yard just to the north, which I think should be removed for some reason.) There are three males on the large bed in various areas, just lounging around, one sitting on each end and another man in the middle. One of them is seemingly Randyl S (no idea about the others), a friend from La Crosse who had never lived in Florida to my knowledge. I say his name and he says “yes” (meaning that he acknowledges that is his name - though oddly, I am not certain if it is the same Randyl I knew). I do not use the bar on anyone and feel less angry at that point, yet I am not quite sure what to talk to him about - and I still do not know who threw the orange - it may not actually be one of the ones there in the room - I sense he may still be outside somewhere (near the outer southern wall of the house, maybe), or maybe it was meant to be a playful attention-getting act (it was not really threatening - just annoying).

The orange-throwing event is actually something that happened to my wife when she was younger. Her step father threw an orange so hard that it put a hole in the wall and it was near a doorway. (It is possible I had heard of this event so I am not tagging it as postcognition.)

Later, my dream shifts into a movie-like event, some of which had seemingly been established earlier somehow (prior to the previous scene described above). There is some sort of life-form that takes over a person and from there, makes identical clones of the person (even all the exact same clothing). I am not sure if it was originally an “engineered” creature made on Earth, or some sort of alien.

Anyhow, there are three unknown people, two males and a female. They are clever at getting away from the cloning creatures - or at least it seems that way. They are seemingly the last hope of the human race to stay human and individual. I watch in “hovering perspective”, still in the three-dimensional environment as the events unfold. There is a point at which there are a few clones wandering about, but they are not much of a threat, and there are not really that many.

I see the three main characters go through a supposedly secret area beyond a large section of hedges and into a hidden clearing - supposedly one of the last safe places to be away from the activity of the human-like cloning “creatures”. It turns out, however, that there are at least twenty or more clones of each of these three people, though they do not seem to acknowledge this at all. They are still planning something relating to dominance or at least long-term survival. This seems, in my dream, to be a rather entertaining surprise ending.