non-lucid

Morning of January 17, 2014. Friday.



I am in Wisconsin on Loomis Street with my wife and children in the backyard at one point. We are also in other locations, including near a landfill, but where there are a lot of tall grasses. There is some sort of machine that we have outside that works like a 3-D printer as well as a search engine. A search is entered and what it does is scan all landfills and dumps and list the contents and their condition. It is then able to recreate the garbage as is, or reconstruct it from its original state. For example, there are a lot of comic books that are torn or with missing pages, which can be restored under one function. It works on some sort of holographic data scanning and possibly teleportation in some cases. I guess an archaeologist could use the device when the artifacts are too far down or in a problematic location. You could even find various versions of material from older novels before they were completed and published, I suppose, due to authors in the past throwing out hundreds of pages of typed material for their books.

I enter the term “Bewitched” but cannot find any “Bewitched” (television series) videos listed, which I think is what we are looking for. In a way, it reminds me of Google in dredging up endless rubbish not related at all to the actual search perimeters. Instead of “Bewitched” VHS tapes or DVDs, it has a list of other things, including Magica De Spell appearances in Donald Duck comic books and other sources. It reminds me of how Google often alters what you are searching for without asking (which it never used to do).

I decide to reconstruct some comics for our children (both comic books and newspaper comic strip pages), with Magica De Spell and Donald Duck (although the cartoon Magica De Spell reminds me vaguely of the “real” Endora). I then get the impression that there is an option to actually bring out the original rubbish itself (in cleansed format) with any missing bits remade from teleported and cleansed landfill materials or source materials from the printer. There is some sort of idea of reintegrating the rubbish within all landfills into all of human society, relative to a recycling function. This seems a bit sad, as then, all of the landfill “archives” will have been removed. (I suppose this reminds me of the exponentially increasing corruption of the wayback machine, by which thousands of previously available webpages are being replaced by blanks as well as thousands of others being deleted so quickly, it is reported to be found but is already gone by the time you go to the archived webpage. I guess they ran out of finances and server space.)

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Morning of January 14, 2014. Tuesday.



My wife Zsuzsanna and I are back at the house in Wavell Heights in Brisbane where our two oldest also lived when growing up. The house is similar to the real one when we lived there, but with several minor differences. Most of my dream takes place in the kitchen. Zsuzsanna seems to be making a salad with carrots and lettuce.

We are babysitting the girl of a single mother, although I am unsure if it is “our” house in my dream or if we are supposedly at her house (even though it was ours in reality years ago). After a time, it seems that there is concern about where the girl is that we are supposed to be babysitting and she is nowhere to be seen; nowhere in the house or yard. I think about what we should do, as it seems to be problematic to be babysitting a child who is not even present.

Soon though, the dark-haired girl makes an appearance in the kitchen. When questioned, she says that she had been down by the riverbank with her boyfriend, having taken her bicycle to the location. This seems a bit disrespectful in taking off without saying where she is going. I tell her that if she had vanished, no one would know where to look. I ask her if her mother just lets her go off at random times without any clue as to where she is going and it seems the answer is yes.

“Your mother is a nut job!” I add dramatically. She goes and sits in the corner in the kitchen, to the right of the doorway, to brood. I soon notice that she has numerous tiny white spots on her shirt, seemingly caused by the ever-amusing “healing powder” (over “healing power”) mix-up. Apparently, a packet of maize flour had been thrown at her. The “healing powder” vs. “healing power” blunder always amuses me when it occurs in my dreams (though this only happens when I use “healing power” in lucid auto-scripting and it carries over in a distorted form in non-lucid dreams such as this one).

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It is of no consequence, really. Whether it is “powder” or “power” the overall results are similar enough. It is always maize flour. Even so, there is probably also a “flour girl” and “flower girl” mix-up at some levels.

“It may look like an antibiotic but inside it you have chalk, powder or if you are lucky, you get maize flour or whatever is inside there, decried Prof Rogo.” Sudan: Outdated legislation hindering health programs in Africa by Mena Report.

“I love the flower girl”; a relevant Cowsills lyric. (Zsuzsanna was the flower girl as a child in hippie Nimbin during the Mardi Grass/Aquarius festival, one of hundreds of precise dream clues that led to my real-life discovery of her as my soulmate).

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Aside from the subliminal auto-scripting in this dream that yet again confused “power” with “powder”, the young girl being down by the river with her bicycle is an autosymbolic play on dream state induction itself (as well as a childhood reference to the Dickey Lee song “Patches”). The river signifies spiritual communication as well as dream state initiation, with a younger version of Zsuzsanna, and the bicycle as an element of the physical body, signifying vague awareness of the hypnopompic kick that only truncates some dreams in the first stage of the sleep cycle.

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Morning of January 9, 2014. Thursday.



This is fairly short in detail, but not that short a dream. Five of my friends from my school days have died (possibly at the same time), including males Steve W and Bill W. There may be only one female in the group - I am mostly only certain of two of the male identities (perhaps a third being John C, who swallowed a tack in fifth grade and he thought he was going to die, but nothing happened to him from that event). I am at a computer at my (seeming) home at one point - I think I am facing south, but it is an unfamiliar apartment. For some reason, my five friends are to be entombed in my house.

I have a small “coffin”, possibly only about three or four feet long, yet somehow all five of the full skeletons fit in the one box longways (not sure why all five are supposed to be put together - they were not related in real life). There is a bit of sadness (not intense) and a vague thought regarding my own mortality. I am to store the “casket” near the computer desk. Logically, to be skeletons, either they had died some time ago (which does not seem to be the case) or some special method was used to both shrink and reduce them to only bone. I also am not even sure if they had been interred elsewhere for some time. This other character (unknown) just shows up and the theme unfolds.

I do notice that their skulls seem a bit “too small” at one point, yet realistically, they were correct size in my dream on afterthought, yet somehow they all still fit full-body in the box. There does not seem to be any logical reason why I am to be the “caretaker” of their bones (other than perhaps that I am the only remaining living one alive of their age or group, or perhaps class regarding a certain grade - unsure). As of this writing, they are all still alive.

In another dream, we are back living at Duffy Street and my father comes by with a few bags of groceries. For some reason, I am not alert to the implications of my dream. Then again, it could have actually been an older version of myself, as, in afterthought, I am not fully sure anymore. Maybe I will look in a mirror twenty years from now and check. The building seemed mirror-imaged (reversed east to west) to its actual design.

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Morning of January 6, 2014. Monday.



Firstly, there was another weird body dream (the last one being the six-toes one). My nose has troubles. It feels a bit unusual. I eventually move the vomer bone about (the structure is very loose) and it actually seems to fully break (though there was not much left holding it in) and then it all come out like a loose tooth. I am mildly disturbed by this, but not really worried about it to any serious extent. I could probably see a doctor later. After this, I look in a mirror and notice that (dream logic) because my vomer structure is gone (although my nose somehow still looks perfectly normal), my bottom lip is receding and not visible. I am annoyed by my new appearance of having “no bottom lip”, but will have to live with it I guess. (It is still there, but completely tucked under my upper lip.)

Later, I have no money, but owe a whole year of back rent (do not ask how such a thing is possible, as I have no clue; not sure how I have been eating, either). I wander around in an unknown area of La Crosse, heading south, although nothing is that familiar. I think I am going to work for a small retail business or some such. I have no active memory of my real life at any point in the past or present, for the most part, not even much memory/awareness of relatives. I am walking along on an embankment as well as across certain walls and brick fences just off the sidewalk. Eventually, I cannot walk on the walls - as they become narrower and narrower (older recurring) as well as having a few objects in the way here and there. So I sort of lightly float down (a very short distance - only about four feet) to the sidewalk, but do not become lucid with this subtle act of minor vertical “flying”. I end up walking a bit east, and then back to the north. A man at a round table (possibly Morgan Freeman - not sure why I am dreaming of celebrities far more than usual - very unlike me) offers me money - about two hundred dollars. I am reluctant to take it, but eventually am talked into it so I can give my landlady about half. I then end up walking northward again, through some sort of tunnel.

There is a scene that makes little sense in terms of a more realistic outside environment. There is a giant box spring setup (mostly hollow on the underside) outside and across the street from a mostly isolated park - a somewhat desolate area in some ways. The giant box spring is about the size (in area) of the foundation of a small house. (Perhaps it was specially made for some sort of sport.) I am with several unknown younger people. The older car we were in seemed to be having some sort of mechanical problems so we had stopped for awhile. A car with three females goes by, the driver making a comment at one of the other unknowns. Eventually someone shoots at them and it is my obligation to hide the bodies under the giant box spring (one still being alive at the time), closer to an outer isolated higher wall of gray stone, in a section near the edge, where a lot of taller, but wilting weeds are growing between the wall and the long edge of the giant box spring. One of the males (who seems much like the unknown male from the black smoke dream) notices that the box spring is a bit up off the ground in one section, because of the hip of one of the bodies being just a bit too high. He jumps up and down on that area to make it more even. Apparently, members of the public rarely go to that area. It actually does not even seem that dramatic or macabre.

Earlier, there were longer non-lucid dreams of watching the Cowsills perform in various venues, likely due to having watched a lot of older videos of them. There was also one of my own concert dreams (starting off with “Pipeline” as usual) and featuring a banjo player to my right with me playing the bass for the most part, and including the usual songs. “Pipeline”, “Runaway” (Del Shannon), “The Rain, The Park, and Other Things”, “Speak to the Sky”, “Tennessee Flattop box”, “Dear Prudence”, “Ragtime Cowboy Joe” (not usually a part of my dream concert), “Since I Met You Baby”, “Down in the Boondocks”, and several others. Not sure of the song that is playing before it decays.

Night of January 4, 2014. Saturday.



This dream, unknown to me at the time, related directly to my wife Zsuzsanna’s dream and memories, as well as an old photograph negative she had been looking at without telling me.

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I am passive, tolerant, and patient in this dream. (I am not lucid, but it is rather vivid.) I vaguely remember thinking of manifesting a potential scene of romance and love-making, though I do not initiate it. My surroundings seem “wrong” somehow, as if I had come to be in the middle of some sort of fiasco created by a religious person. I am in a public hall at a small gathering of perhaps twenty people or more. It seems to be a group of people in an informal (bucolic) prayer meeting, perhaps in the late 1800s at first, but is more likely in the 1970s. The partially gray-haired preacher is directly to my right and reading from a personal book of sermons (not the Bible) and others are following along and repeating some of his words and phrases. There is no singing. I am seated in the front row and there are three rows of plastic chairs (not pews) I am aware of, of about eight or nine people each. There are also a few people seated on the floor in front of us near the first row only.

I am not one hundred percent sure as to what is in the area before us - as to whether it is a stage (which I do get an impression of and it seems logical). I am not sure as I never look in that particular direction at all (other than the immediate foreground where the girl and a few other people are sitting informally on the floor). There does seem to be an implication of a door on my far right as well as a stage likely being in front of us, but I am only slightly aware of it. All of this, in almost every detail when verifying certain things, matches the area Zsuzsanna was at the age she was relative to the young version of her here, though I had never been there and I did not know what it looked like.

The girl (young version of Zsuzsanna) who is seated on the ground in front of me, informal cross-legged style, seems happy I am there (but seems slightly sad and out-of-place) and turns around to touch my left knee with her right hand. However, there seems to be some sort of strange electromagnetic alteration (invisible barrier) of her intent and she reverses her motion and puts her hand back down as if the act is not physically possible and this makes me feel a bit “off” and both sensually and spiritually denied in my own dream (maybe she is uncertain of her approach).

I am rather annoyed at not jumping into a sensual adventure in my own dream (or even at least comforting the girl spiritually as even that was preferable to this “meeting” as a group, as it seems riddled with dogma and robotic continuity rather than with real consciousness and focus), so I decide to work on some music and start to write the notes down in my music book. The preacher, however, pulls it so that I cannot write properly (but does not touch me directly as if there is a similar barrier as with the girl) and makes a comment I do not recall. Imagine being denied both sensually and creatively - and I see that I have to follow along with the meeting (just to be polite, of course, as if I was viably lucid, I would have changed the entire scenario in a heartbeat) even though I do not belong there. I have no idea why I (or rather my dream self) am this passive. It does relate to Zsuzsanna’s memory and her sense of regret that she shared with me later on. This is more evidence that people can share other people’s memories without being aware of the orientation regarding location and such.

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Regarding Zsuzsanna’s dream, implications in her dream were very similar to mine and left her sad (again, she had been looking at a photograph negative of the group which I never saw and I did not know of the preacher or the location, but these were days where she felt wrong about being near these people, as well as “brainwashed”). In my dream though, I do not sense any “dark energies”. It just seems a bit unusual and wrong, as if any kind of touching, sexual or not, was somehow seen as wrong and one person was “spiritually in charge” of several others.

Zsuzsanna regrets the influence these people had, even getting rid of some of her artwork and even certain music albums and possessions. It was not a religious cult, but probably close to it in some ways. Promoting the idea of “sin” upon a person doing nothing wrong was something I always felt was truly sick and “evil” in itself.

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Morning of December 30, 2013. Monday.



My dream takes place in a mostly true-to-life version of our house in Brisbane on Stadcor Street in Wavell Heights. We have not lived there for years. My immediate family is as it is now in my dream, though. It is probably mid-morning. There are a few people visiting, but they had all been in the backyard; including my sister-in-law at a much younger age (when my brother first met her), my wife’s sister-in-law, and possibly others. My wife and the two of them are walking around in the backyard without a top on, but this is extraordinarily uneventful, as it solely seems to relate to breastfeeding their babies. They seem to be going around the side via the driveway, though, which would be more in public view from the street.

I become aware of the noise from a semi engine in front of our house. As I am not fully dressed, I want someone else to check it out while I mostly remain in the small hallway near the kitchen. My oldest daughter Amelia eventually goes to the living room and out to check what the person may want.

I hear a man talking for what seems like a long time as the semi is still idling. It seems fairly vague in what is implied at that point. I am not lucid, but there does seem to be several “practiced” changes and repeated shorter scenes relating to changing ideas during that time (as with many of my dreams). The possible elements relate to…

1. A normal parcel post delivery for my oldest daughter.
2. Some sort of police investigation relating to safety checks of “suspicious packages” during the holidays (of which I have seen a few shows on television where they find and investigate suspicious packages).
3. A very large delivery for my family and I (filling the whole semi trailer), including a larger Christmas tree, decorations, and possibly furniture, which seems a bit strange and I am somewhat annoyed at possibly having to help move it all, as there is likely only the one driver.& This being the case, it may also relate to some sort of party for lonely single people relative to a charity(?) being at our house for some reason. I guess such is my “duty”.
4. Someone who is lost and looking for directions.
5. Someone to collect a package that was recently delivered to our house by mistake and is actually for the next-door neighbors.
6. An investigation over a package that we somehow (possibly) attained wrongfully, like with a fake or stolen bank account or some such or from a business that is under investigation (for “knockoffs”, that is, cheap fake copycat products of known brands).

Eventually, my dream becomes more stable and a scenario regarding number one and number four above is what finally “fades in” as the actual continuing dream elements. I look out and see my oldest daughter standing near the semi cab. The man (of about forty years of age) is driving a mostly allover darker purple semi. (Purple symbolically represents the deepest level of conscious awareness, seemingly the portal to the supraconscious, being 400 nanometers at the physical level - so part of this may be about “delivering” forms or ideas from the “darker” less-explored domains into wakeful awareness). The man, as well as giving my daughter her parcel, explains that he is looking for his new residence, as he has recently moved to the area. It is actually Pilliga Street (in exact orientation from our house) that he is moving to, but it changes to Thistledown Street in my dream, which is in Tinton Falls, New Jersey, USA (possible tentative plays for no particular reason on “down” of Thistledown and “falls” as well as “new” of New Jersey). Apparently there is also a Thistledown pub he will be living near and it seems to be a small apartment for a single male, although in real life, the New Jersey address in the USA is actually occupied by a new condo (built this year) for about $2,000 a month (twice our rent for this dump, ha, but about four times bigger).

This had a partial layer of precognition (as usual) in that my oldest daughter did get a delivery via truck a bit after my waking (no way of me knowing) and spent some time “talking” and laughing later (on a forum) about a purple aspect of something she got. Also, tonight, my wife ended up talking to a woman she somewhat knows (she calls “the cat lady”) who had gone to a charity Christmas party for “lonely single people”, so that is three minor facets of composite precognition, which is pretty standard from day to day.

Purple is not usually that dominant a color in my dreams relating to the environment (such as lager objects, houses, vehicles, and so on). However, more developed tulpas and “higher entities” often wear purple and white in near-equal combinations of gossamer (which is my most visually striking color combination). I did buy my wife a purple and white set years ago and she looked fantastic and dreamy.

Morning of December 27, 2013. Friday.



This is one of those “body” dreams; that is, the primary focus of my dream being on the condition or state of the body. Such dreams usually have magnification of imagery and “closer than possible” perspectives and are often semi-lucid. In this one, I am mostly focused on my feet.

My feet have a sort of discomfort on each outer side, sort of like when wearing shoes that are a bit too tight, but I am barefoot in my dream. When I do any type of affirmation pulsing with the word “healing” or “healing powers” (as opposed to “healthy” or “healthy energies”) I have dreams of this nature (every single time thus far). This is likely because “healing” has a completely different association with other areas of the mind and memory than “healthy” (especially as “healing” implies an ongoing event whereas “healthy” implies a state of being). I have honestly recognized this for over twenty years, but I still use the word “healing” to discern variations and am still experimenting with direct to dream pulsing.

“Healing” seems to send the message that you are in a continuous state of change and always brings about unusual dreams relating to the body and again, usually with both magnification and “closer than possible” perspective of the particular area of the body. Normally, though, it brings about dreams of open sores that often close themselves (thus, always a dream-instigated opportunity to keep healing), hollow areas within the body and extremely detailed imagery of internal anatomy (even microscopic views - such as blood flowing, etc.) I have also noted (and no longer use much) the association with “flowing”. For some reason, the dream self’s mind can only link the word “flowing” with water or liquid (in one dream, it seemed like paint). Thus, when I used phrasing in pulsing sessions such as “healthy energies flowing”, I would always dream of water flooding a room, or similar (usually not in a negative or stressful sense, though, but rather purposeless, perhaps).

In this dream, I eventually check my feet more closely. I see that a couple layers of skin are peeling off around the outer sides of both feet. Inside each “cocoon” of thin skin is a small toe (at this point, I am still “logically” assuming they are the fifth toe on each foot - yet much closer to the instep middle-point than would be normal), my toenails breaking through first (without any actual pain, though). I am trying to work out the situation. Perhaps my shoes had been too tight for too long and somehow caused skin to grow over each small toe after a time (as well as each small toe being pushed down and against the outer instep over time). As the skin comes off, it feels a bit more comfortable. A little later I flex my feet and toes (the toe-line changing and now being mostly even across, unlike just before) and then notice that I have six toes on each foot (all appearing normal otherwise). It does not concern me all that much. I look at them curiously and a couple relatives look at my feet without comment. I guess growing extra toes like this is not all that unusual, especially in the dream state.

This was possibly partly influenced by “The Chrysalids” (known as “Re-birth” in the USA), my favorite novel of any genre. In the story, though, it is Sophie that has the six toes, not the main character. I had found the story remarkable in how closely I related to David Strorm, almost as if I was reading about myself and my life (at one level) directly (the only book that I ever perceived this level of such clear and “familiar” associations and “closeness” in identification with a fictional character).

Morning of December 26, 2013. Thursday.



In my dream, I am in an unfamiliar garage in Wisconsin, it seems, although my wife Zsuzsanna is with me. There is a tall, thin stack of smaller boxes of books that falls over without causing any damage. We seem to be moving a few things around. I notice a heavyset man staring at me from the opening to the garage (the opening apparently to the east). He walks into the garage and stares at me intently, looking into my eyes.

“Why are you an alien?” he says in a way almost implying cross-examination. He seems to have a special gift to see the “different wiring” within my physical nature and brain design - something people usually seem to sense but do not comment on, or maybe they recognize that I am only pretending to understand what people are saying to avoid confrontation.

“Because I am not you and am not like you,” I say calmly, but in a slightly patronizing way. I do not like him at all and do not look away from his intense and unduly patronizing gaze. He seems to be of the conspiracy-theorist “everything is doom or devils or aliens” mentality; the type who spends time considering all manner of fictional systems and completely unfeasible potential of the countless fraudulent “lunatic fringe” websites. (I recall a small plastic “device” from a New Age magazine years ago which I got just to see what it really was. It was supposedly designed to improve health by having some sort of “protective field” move out from the wearer’s body. When I took it apart, I saw that all it was was a small circuit-board in which the sole function was to make the small light flash on and off. Hilariously stupid.)

The chubby unknown male soon attacks me physically but I grab him and stretch him out somehow until all that is left of him is his belt. I go to the garage entrance and throw this belt out into the alley as two girls are walking by, heading north (I believe we are at the north-side of La Crosse). He somehow screams for help (as a belt, but changing form a bit, including a brief period as a rattlesnake) but they do not notice. Eventually, he is able to “regenerate” himself, but is more overweight than before and dressed in mismatched clothes, some of them women’s clothes - in about three layers. He is also wearing a periwig and starts yelling about aliens again, while shaking a golf club at me. I also notice, at this point, he is about a foot shorter than before.

I tell him sternly and very seriously, “the fact that people like you are allowed to run around promoting false systems and false ideologies and leading other people astray is proof enough that humans are not fit to occupy this planet”. (By that, I seem to be perhaps illogically inferring that both the con artists and the victims are “unfit”.) From here I wake.

Morning of December 25, 2013. Wednesday.



In my dream, my family and I seem to be living in a composite house that is half of our last address in this town (Barolin Street) and half the address in Brisbane in Wavell Heights (Stadcor Street). The first part focuses on the last address’s house’s section, which is mostly the porch that faced east. There is a woman there (as well as my wife) but I do not know who she is; perhaps she is a relative of my wife’s (though that seems unlikely). When on the porch, she is talking about her concern for all the cats that will cease to exist that night. Apparently any cat that is outside at a certain time is captured by the local government and euthanized. She seems to be planning on how she can rescue and keep one cat of her own. It seems to be fairly late at night by that point. There is a lot of clarity and vividness at the point where I stand on the porch looking out into the semidarkness.

A little later, I am in a part of the house that is more like the one in Wavell Heights. We call our two cats in, and they run into the house, but seven more cats soon come into the house - cats that we have never seen before (recurring). They are all different breeds, including a calico. One of them is a very strange fictional breed that is somewhat like a miniature lion (but with tiger stripes) and also reminds me very slightly of a silkie chicken regarding extra hair that hangs back from its head and mid-body area. It is an odd sight. It is possible that this is the cat the unknown woman will pick (because of its unusual appearance and likelihood of being gotten rid of quicker because the government does not like diverse traits in anything of any kind), but it is not certain. I start to contemplate how it will not really be possible to keep all these cats (eight, if the woman leaves with one) and am not sure what will happen.

Morning of December 22, 2013. Sunday.



This dream was not that short, but much of it was based on attention regarding perception and focus of just a few ideas and images. In my dream, my brother sends me a particular JPEG photo on Facebook (which he had not done in real life before - he never posted images on my Facebook page). I am at the computer and when I look at the image, it is very clear. The image is mostly of a Teddy bear sitting on a smaller stack of books in the center of a bed. Also in the room are lots of other details. For a time, I seem to be doing photo projection (within my dream itself) for some reason.

After a short time, I notice the image seems to change as if it is doing a slow 180 degree pan (central to the Teddy bear position) on one side (as I move my head side to side very slightly) and then the other so that I can see what had been behind the Teddy bear and see other things at different angles. This happens in a very subtle way in some photo projection experiences (depending on the image) in real life, but in this case, in my dream, it is quite intriguing and amazingly vivid (though I am not lucid). It is as if all the image-based data of a full 360 degree rotation is somehow encoded within the one otherwise flat image (seemingly oriented within the center which - again - is represented by the Teddy bear in this case - for example, as if the Teddy bear is the hub and everything around it is the 360 degree “wheel” which pans around 180 degrees to each side depending on how I move my head - however, I still do not see up and down in a similar way in this case relative to detail change).

I decide that my brother sent me a special kind of hologram, perhaps without knowing that himself - or maybe it is a new technology relating to holographic photography (that he is absentmindedly “showing off”, or not knowing that I do not have all the equipment associated with its full usage) of a type that goes beyond the much older View Master types (and the very old technology relating to 3-D back in the 1940s and such being far superior to what they make these days, some of which is actually fake or rendered artificially). In my dream, I am contemplating how it works, thinking somewhat about the small plastic cards with images that appear to move through a stage of several frames when you change the angle by moving it slightly, but I think that would require a special monitor with several thin and angled layers.

I am thinking about talking to my brother in an enthusiastic state of cheerful surprise. There are other photos; one, I think, of his cat on the floor of his kitchen and at least one outside scene.

A little later, I seem to be in the parking lot with some of my belongings near a mall in Wisconsin that had been north of all the places I lived in the region (near Shopko, I think - based in Ashwaubenon, Wisconsin, near Green Bay). A younger male approaches me from the southeast. I seem to be near a table (or something set up with a piece of plywood on top); perhaps it is part of a larger flea market oriented east to west though I do not see many people around. I am sitting down at that point on a small chair. The man seems friendly, but I still feel a slight suspicion as if I feel he may attempt to rob me at one point, but that thought is not quite the dominating one. The man seems to be low on money and wants to know if I could buy some agates from him. I am not quite sure how much money I have, but I tell him that I already have a “guitar full of agates” (which is based on a much older real-life memory where I kept a large number of agates in an old guitar of my father’s, but this was over twenty years ago). I even describe to him what each one looked like as I put it inside the body of the guitar. I tell him about the ones that look a bit like candy corn, the red and white striped ones, and ones that look a bit like they have Paisley designs on them. He does not seem to be threatening at all (even though I hold the mild expectation of such) and he asks another man approaching from the north who is apparently there to look at something else at the implied flea market.

Eventually, I start talking to the man selling agates about the new holographic technology and how you can actually “step into” the images as if they were much like holodecks on the newer (“Next-Generation”-based) “Star Trek” shows (although earlier I had only seen “inside” the photos at a different size perspective). He listens, being only mildly interested, but does not comment. He just wants to sell all his agates to get enough for a small meal, I think. He is thin and passive. I do not think he will rob anyone “yet”.

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This turned out to also be precognitive relative to what my wife had been looking at, at the mall (including newer holographic images she was thinking of buying - one of a tiger), without any knowledge of such on my part or me sharing my dream beforehand. Funny, but happens every day to some extent. The other way it was precognitive involved pretty close detail to my brother Dennis (same brother as in my dream) posting images on Facebook in my timeline which he had never done before and no prior clue he would do so. I thought I had updated this particular entry in this section, but had not - partly because it happens so often. It had the usual “something bigger than life at work” feeling.

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Morning of December 20, 2013. Friday.



Regarding my old home in Cubitis, there is an additional western wall identical to the first, with the three tall jalousie windows, which is duplicated a few feet to the the west, with no floor (just the open grassy/ground area), and like a sort of additional outdoor hallway - just wide enough for one person of average size - between the two walls with no door to the south at least, leaving an open area where you can just walk into the space. It seems possible that, to the north, it bends around like an L-shape with another front entrance, but that is not fully clear.

There is one point where it also seems like a children’s railroad (as in a park) goes from north to south, as the tracks are there, and one train shows up without drama. It seems to have some mixed aspects of our last home in Australia as well, as there is a western fence, west from the duplicated wall. The “engineer” (older white-haired man) goes through the outer fictional “hallway” about halfway, as if he is lost, then walks back to continue working with the “park train”.

My wife Zsuzsanna and I are sleeping near the western windows, our heads to the north. Soon, there is a sense of weight coming down from above me. I am aware that a younger male has somehow come through the window and almost onto us as we wake from the intrusion. Of course this makes no sense, as you cannot go through jalousie windows like that, but whatever - anything can occur in a dream. It is possible they are suddenly large single pane windows in this particular instance, perhaps sliding windows. I get the impression he is in a marathon and has somehow either taken a wrong turn or is deliberately taking a short cut through our house to get to the finish line more quickly.

Fictionally, to the east, not that far from our dream home, is a college (males only), I think, or maybe a high school for only the two highest grades (eleventh and twelfth) or maybe a combination. Apparently there is a large focus on sports and especially Olympic racing and marathon training and practice. Somehow, I grab the person out of being annoyed at the intrusion (he may be inclined to steal something as well, I think), mostly seeming to retrieve a five-pointed star which I crush in my hand - not likely a badge (although it looks like one) but some sort of award regarding his running ability or placement status. Oddly, this seems to make the runner vanish completely and I then am somewhat concerned about having “killed” someone, even though I get a vague impression that a “broken” version of him runs to the south near the school before finally collapsing and dying and vanishing with no other witnesses present.

Later, there is a line of young males, mostly all in white shorts and tank tops with a few stripes and number details, from west to east, as if part of some sort of award ceremony. The male I had “killed” had been replaced by another person, whereas, a changeling had replaced the other person that had taken the other missing person’s place. It is rather confusing. One of the male runner-ups looks at the lead runner (who is not who he should be) with a bit of awe and confusion. The person’s name is called and even his race (relating to black or white) is wrong, yet no one is apparently supposed to notice the switches regarding the two people. Of course, even if the public, with their amazingly short memory, is unaware of who is who, I am fairly certain close friends and especially parents would know. It does not make much sense. It is as if someone is killed or missing (even temporarily I guess), and it does not mean anything; they are simply replaced by a shuffling around of other people (and the additional changeling). Logically, just the changeling of a similar appearance replacing the missing person should have been enough instead of this shuffle where there are then two potential problems to have to later explain.

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Morning of December 18, 2013. Wednesday.



In one dream, we appear to be visiting an (unknown) person on the right side of a T-section dock in a larger boathouse (seemingly part of a strange composite using the Salton Sea, California, the Mississippi near La Crosse, and an area near the Florida Keys). There is another boathouse mirrored almost exactly to the opposite side of the T-section dock. The owner we know in my dream is probably about forty years old. There is an area for a small motorboat near the right-front that is almost like a connected garage (at water level) so that the boat comes up almost to the front door of the boathouse. The man seems to be sharing a story based on a recent event where he thought that a visitor was very unintelligent because they asked why he did not have an additional place for the boat near the back of the boathouse so that when he travels from a trip in the other direction, it would supposedly be “easier” to moor (even though the only door is on the front of the boathouse). Apparently the person was also looking at the far-right area for another potential spot to moor (in case the boat had been traveling from that direction as well). It seems very amusing for him. Apparently, he also seems to indicate that the other person thought that if a person is traveling from the left of the T-section, he would reach the other boathouse and never get to his (not having enough intelligence to know that you can just go around). This was rather odd and impersonal for a dream. It could possibly relate more to persistent stubbornness rather than a lack of intelligence. For example, a person may stop near you as if you are “in their way”, when they could just walk around you with little effort or difficulty. There was, however, a person in real life that we used to see who would actually stop when there was anything in front of him, even a division of the sidewalk or a particularly dark line on the floor of a store’s aisle (as if it were a “wall”). This relates to some sort of condition, but I do not presently recall the name. It was unusual seeing someone do this. He acted as if he could not get past implied two-dimensional “barriers”. I never really watched or stared, so I do not know what he eventually did as I left the scene. He also stopped near our baby pram once even though it was to the right of him and nowhere near being in his way, so I just turned around and went the other direction.

In the other dream, we are living in the same house as a person who lives near us on the same street in one direction (but across an alleyway - we live in a corner house) in real life, but whom we do not see very often (he rarely seems to be actually living there over longer time periods) and do not know very well. I am walking around in a seemingly shared living area, yet there also seems to be features of a very large, but partly divided bedroom. I am hearing sound from an adjoining room which seems a bit too loud (as I do not want the other people in the house to complain) - although I am not sure if it is that late at night. I thought it might be some sort of anechoic chamber in part - it seems to be a very large television (false memory) on the other side of the wall, and apparently it is an old monster movie or something similar, so I go to tell a family member to turn the volume down while in the doorway, the other room with the television being mostly dark. I am not sure what the movie is. It seems to be a fictional variation of “Village of the Giants” from 1965 based on what the other man says.

The other man is also walking near the same area, but does not seem to mind the television’s volume level (he may have been planning to get something from the refrigerator to take back to his area). He even watches the movie that is on for about three minutes or so although I actually never face or see the screen of the television, as I remain mostly in the implied larger bedroom area. He says with a sort of odd curious interest (perhaps nostalgia), “Oh…there are TWO giant women in this movie, and this one is dancing, look at that stomach…”

Meanwhile, I am going back to get some pens and pencils. Some of the pens are felt markers of a larger variety of colors as well as normal ballpoints. I seem to have permission from the other man for some reason to use one of his pens. The large group of pens is mine, yet when I place them on someone’s bed temporarily (as there are a bit too many and it is a clumsy effort to get them to the desk on my side), they get mixed up with other people’s pens. I am annoyed, as I do not want to be accused of “stealing pens”, so I finally manage to get them separated before the other man walks back to his apparent living area. In real life, we assume his wife had died, as we have not seen her for a long time, but when he comes back into this room, he is making strange comments about her (I guess she is in a different adjoining room than the other). I then notice funny toy heads hanging from the wall (which I had not noticed before), similar to the toy shrunken heads of years ago, one with bright orange hair sticking out from each side (but bald otherwise), which seems to represent his wife, as if displayed as some sort of nostalgic gift.

The third dream was fairly short and somewhat distorted. There was another boathouse-related scene, but as if from a movie. There is a creature that looks much like the one from “The Monster That Challenged the World” (1957), but is much smaller, only about the size of a person. It is apparently a male creature. He moves his head up from the water that is filled with smaller debris (of mostly greenish and yellowish hues) and starts going “Yerp, yerp, yerp”. Apparently the movie is called “The Yerper”…rather senseless. He does not seem like a threat and the “yerp” sound is not really imposing.

Morning of November 27, 2013. Wednesday.



In my dream, my wife Zsuzsanna and our children are in our backyard in perhaps late morning, seemingly of the home we live in now on W Street. There are some differences though, one being that the gate is more towards the middle of our fence on the west side of the property, and there are also additional trees. At least four miniature resplendent quetzals fly around, both males and females. At times though, it seems like they may also be a rare species of hummingbird. (Hummingbird and quetzal composites have appeared in previous dreams.) There is a heightened awareness of beauty and peace. The vibrant energies of the reds, greens, and blues move through the air as they seem interested in the flowers growing near one tree near our fence. My wife watches them cheerfully. At times, they seem more and more like hummingbirds (or perhaps just with hummingbird heads and way of flight - as their wings are sometimes moving more like that of a bee). It is like a special mystery or “visit” for our eyes only. I am sort of puzzled as to what they really are but feel they are like a special gift in some ways. (A quetzal also appeared in probably the most vivid dream I ever had in my lifetime, on Easter morning of 1986, age 25.)

Amusing trivia: Curiously, the audio reversal of “quetzal” sounds just a little like “Aztec” (ket-so…os-tek), whereas “Quetzalcoatl” sounds a little like “little old Aztec”.

Morning of November 24, 2013. Sunday.

Dream #: 17,142-03. Reading time: 1 min 54 sec.



This dream began as the typical “watching the sky at twilight” event when interesting and mysterious events occur in the sky, but it became more like an “end of the world” dream. I had intended to reinduce my awareness into a more lucid dream, but it is too warm to focus for very long.

I go outside to look at the sky. There had been reports about signs that the end of the solar system is nigh. I am not concerned, but there is an eerie awareness of humanity ceasing to exist. When I look at the sky, I notice that there are several smaller identical Earth moons in various random areas (about half the size or less of how the moon should appear), with a random cluster of about four lower down toward the horizon. I am trying to understand how the “same” moon can be in several areas of the sky at the same time. I consider that it may be a reflective effect from the sparse clouds.

Zsuzsanna’s half-sister, CRJ, comes out from the house. The setting is like the front yard of the Cubitis house. My mother is present, appearing about ten years younger than my day of birth. (I do not recall that she had died.)

CRJ says, “Oh, look, the sky has gone stupid,” and seems more annoyed than concerned. It does not seem like a newsworthy event to her even though she is working for a radio station (from within the house)?

My mother comes out and looks at the stars. Time passes, and the “stars” begin to move down from the sky at a fast rate, one at a time, like swooping birds. After they swoop down, they rise back into a different position in the sky. Their trajectory seems to be based on the law of reflection as they swoop down and go back up in an “incident ray” path. It seems like I am experiencing the event from the perspective of two people at the same time (my mother and me). It is disorienting. We manage to duck and dodge in a perfect way each time (the source of the ducking and dodging movements seeming to be my mother’s) to avoid being hit by each “star” (which technically cannot be much bigger than a basketball but it “feels” as if it is much larger). I can barely see above my head after a time. One coming from farther away in the sky makes a much wider and “slower” arc. Those directly above go in almost a straight up and down seemingly faster course (somewhat like a bouncing ball).

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There was partial influence from “Slaughterhouse-Five” (from 1972) regarding the scene where the main character is seemingly carried off by a “star.” (That was a result of aliens in the movie. Aliens are not implied to be in my dream’s situation.)

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Morning of November 23, 2013. Saturday.

Dream #: 17,141-02. Reading time: 2 min 42 sec.



I am in the Stadcor Street house, though unaware it is a place where we had lived. The house has boxes and furniture in all the rooms, but there is water everywhere that covers much of it. It seems as if there a river within the house. I try to get through one area from the lounge room to the kitchen and sometimes go lower or under the shoulder-high water to pull myself back up while using boxes or furniture to stabilize my position. An old unknown male on a raft drifts by, seemingly annoyed by my presence.

Later, I am outside with Zsuzsanna near a big (fictitious) garage. The area is inhabited by people who are like composites of pilgrims and hillbillies with a colonial mentality. They are xenophobes. A man who reminds me of VonHelton, a conspiracy theorist on YouTube, is present. I was supposed to give him something from the house, but I had forgotten what it was.

“What does an injun and a gypsy hope to find here?” he loudly inquires, waving his arms around. He has a long white scraggly beard and reminds me of the personas from “Bugs Bunny: Hillbilly Hare.” There is a big table where there are old one-of-a-kind books. One of the people near the table seems friendly. Another man looks at me and tells me to be careful with the “one-of-a-kind” books, and I stare him down while telling him that I am “one-of-a-kind.” However, it also seems that similar “one-of-a-kind” books are underwater back in the house.

Time passes, and I seem to be Zsuzsanna, but my voice seems to be mine. No one notices. I am looking through books on family names. There is an ancestor on Zsuzsanna’s mother’s side named either Mark Davids or David Marks, but it seems unlikely in my dream (in real life, it is “Marks,” anglicized from the original name). The book I am looking through as Zsuzsanna while speaking to other people at the table has the names in proximity. One features in a comic-strip-like section (though with real photographs) as a Czechoslovakian pirate chasing another man who ends up neck-high in a river near mossy rocks. (There is a “Czech Pirate Party” - “Pirate Parties were established in many European countries as a protest against the restriction of the civil rights by lobby groups.” There may be influence from the news “Hundreds of rampaging neo-Nazis attempt pogrom against Romani people in Ostrava.”)

I continue to read (as Zsuzsanna) information on her father’s people and the genocide that is still an issue. (In real life, he had escaped to Australia). There is a connection to the word “pogrom” and the name “Ostrava” and other terms, some fictitious, the main word being “Sym,” which supposedly means a pogrom against the “gypsies” (Romani). It could be a play on “Sim.” It seems to be “Sxm” at times. (There was a “precognitive” thread here, though likely telepathic for lack of a better word. Toby had posted “Sxm” on Facebook right after I started writing this entry - his own new shortened form of the name of a radio station he had never posted about before.)

I become aware my youngest son is here. I open a book and in the back, between the back cover and the last page, is a big praying mantis preserved much like a leaf, its wings (somewhat semi-circular) spread out. It is nearly the size of the page. It floats in the air for a short time before drifting back down onto the page, as if from a subtle life-force, perhaps from suspended animation. It is the most vivid part of my dream. My son watches with mild interest but does not speak. I am thinking, as Zsuzsanna, that I should “find my husband.”

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I have added another “precognitive” facet even though the matching dream content of another poster had an older date. It was posted right after mine (so I am adding the “dream journal synchronicity” tag). Ashzepplin’s online dream journal (dream id 189743) no longer exists.

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