non-lucid

Morning of November 21, 2013. Thursday.



In my dream, I am in a school, apparently, but there seem to be attributes that remind me a lot of my sister’s house on Loomis Street, though bigger in area. A foreman and friend who had shot himself in real life (Patrick; nickname Hooker) seems to be one of the teachers or actually more like a composite also inclusive of a high school science teacher. It is going on nine o'clock at night (which I do not see until near the end of my dream by looking at a clock on the south wall). All of the students (we seem to be in our twenties and thirties) are working on helping to manually put together some workbooks that are somehow for the benefit of the whole school, which does not seem a practical endeavor. I have already completed one book and will apparently get a small payment. It involves starting from the first page and simply writing sums that increment by one or ten or whatever from that point to the end of the book. The books are 96-page ruled exercise books of 8mm feint, about 9 x 7 inches I think. Horizontally, there is room for four problems or possibly five.

I am continuously annoyed by seeing that the second one I am to complete is not perfect on yet the first page when looking back and that there are errors in what I had written, including not having an extra space between the sets so that they run together a little too closely from top to bottom (not leaving enough room for whoever solves them), accidentally skipping the lower addend of a sequence now and then, etc. I spend a lot of time erasing, never getting past the first three rows. The first page seems to start with 100 + 1 (column form - all problem templates are in column form), 100 + 2, 100 + 3, 100 + 4, and so on. Eventually, I happen to skim the pages and notice a few pages with colorful stickers here and there (apparently put in by someone else earlier during the day) that have similar problems with pictures and take up about the same space as the written efforts - and will supposedly end up filling the same logical sequencing when all the manual work is done (while manually skipping the sticker regions that are part of the sequencing). Most of the colorful stickers are nearer to the middle of the booklet. After that, I see that there are several pages of complex equations which fill each page, several pages in from the front, and realize that the book is something I should keep and had in fact started to make into a school workbook accidentally (from it being with the others for a short time but long enough for someone else to have worked on it prior). Not wanting to mess my book up any more than it is I inform the teacher that I will finish it later (a deliberate lie - I will start anew on another one - this one will not be “missed” as it was already mine) and casually insert it into the middle area of a larger exercise book within my larger binder. Around this time I also look at the clock (which is higher on the wall, only about a foot down from the ceiling) and see it is about nine o'clock at night and so I wonder why everyone is still working, as I reason the classwork should have probably ended around 4:30 in the afternoon.

I eventually reflect on a false memory that someone (not sure who) had ordered some pizzas and drink for me (in addition to perhaps a couple other friends or classmates) about an hour and a half prior - and that it is my responsibility to pick it up now. The pizza place is supposedly adjacent to our “school” and north of it and open until midnight but I have concerns on how I will prove to the cashiers that I am the one who is supposed to pick up the order - yet I am also not entirely sure when the school session ends. I am still looking forward to it, assuming it all works out and that the cashiers will know what they are doing. I am thinking on that for awhile and wake up before leaving the “school” via the front east entrance.

Morning of November 4, 2013. Monday.



This is one of those environment-influenced dreams and likely has no other associations. My dream is semi-lucid, but I am still “locked into” the events and activities. It starts by someone flushing the toilet (I am in the kitchen when my dream starts), the action of which seems to do something to all the pipes throughout the entire house - causing all the water to stop flowing. The house seems to be some sort of strange variation of the one on Loomis Street, but is not really much like it. There is a clear awareness that all of the pipes are suddenly empty of water, which causes a strange blast of heat to fill all of the pipes, which then appear collectively (especially in the kitchen) like some sort of large element on a stove top. I even hear a sound somewhat like air rushing through the pipes and a slight awareness of furnace sounds.

Somehow being able to see down into the floor, I see all of the pipes glowing red. Eventually, the outside of the house is on fire on the north side and my brother-in-law goes out to try to put it out with the garden hose. The fire is very even and burning horizontally along certain sections. I am not that alarmed (being semi-lucid) but am still concerned about valuable documents being burned up. I notice a few even rows of fire on a bookshelf. (This is very different than a fully lucid dream I had fairly recently, where I had indulged in enjoying the fires in the house and the view of ashes of books and such.) My sister mentions that the fire is spreading everywhere. I use the hose myself and we get most of the fire under control (somehow causing the fires inside to go out at times by spraying the outside of the house, but not fully, and I worry a little about water damage on top of the minimal fire damage thus far if too much is sprayed indoors).

Meanwhile, an unknown person is following another unknown person around down the street (both males), asking him about where he had hid the remains of Saddam Hussein, making references to it being inside a vertical pipe on that street. This dream seems to reflect a phrase my mother used when it was really hot (as it is in real life right now), saying that “this house is an oven”. Again, it seems very relevant as the plumbing pipes throughout the house actually seemed to serve doubly as oven elements for some reason, but it got out of control.

In another, earlier part of my dream (or one that came just before and slowly merged into it) I am traveling by taxi to some sort of unknown area with a wide street and connected parking area that looks like it is mostly made up of businesses, but there is a hint of a park nearby and possibly a large river (Black River in La Crosse?). The driver is a short Hindi man of about thirty. The false history of my dream implies that he had driven me to the same location on a number of different days, but I had only thus far given him one dollar for this particular ride. It seems that the man is somewhat sarcastic about my potential to pay him for his service. I take out a twenty-dollar bill (seeming to have at least a hundred in my wallet) and give it to him and it makes him very surprised and grateful. Of course, in these times in this region, twenty dollars relative to riding in a taxi is hardly anything and likely would not even cover two shorter trips.

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Night of October 21, 2013. Monday.



There are two sections of my dream that seem directly connected, yet are also highly incongruous from one event to the next - and the level of vividness and awareness changes to near-lucidity. Firstly, there seems to be a large, valuable, mostly green frog statue (part of an old water fountain?) of about half the size of a person and in an upright position. I believe it is near the kitchen entrance on a chest-of-drawers. Somehow it falls over (my fault? unsure) and is lying on the floor. I first think it is undamaged, but notice more and more sections, as I lift it up from having been face-down on the floor, where a larger, thinner piece was chipped off, each of which I pick up and align back on the statue (having turned it over on its back). The areas from where the pieces were chipped off are white and somewhat powdery, similar to how certain cheap, already damaged knickknacks look in bargain retail stores. However, if I set the statue upright again, the pieces, although all aligned, would likely not stay on, so I think of using some sort of glue that I see nearby, the container about the size of a milk bottle…

Scene shift to…the bottle of “glue” turns out to be body-paint. I am part of a scenario that seems to be when my wife and I were much younger, possibly a few years before we met, although we are both at my sister’s house in Wisconsin. Her unearthly beauty radiates as she uses the paint to cover her face and entire body in a “poetic” ritual-like way. The paint shines on her in a glossy bluish-black as she walks around (unclothed) in various rooms, but primarily the kitchen. There is also the awareness that it is actually the future, where it is a trend (especially with older teenagers) to use body-paint at social venues, including this shiny black, purple, and an unusual sort of very dark coppery tone. She is almost like a tulpa template, but without the glow from the inside going out, rather a silvery sheen on the outside of her skin at times.

In the next scene, I am on the porch - but it is not clear what porch this was - as it almost seems like the one of someone I knew years ago - but could also be at the same (sister’s) house as the previous events. It also feels like our last address somewhat. Using logic, it mostly seems like a composite of our last home’s porch and a sister’s due to the (unknown) man in my dream walking from around the right side, outside, which would have been our driveway in real life, or, relating to my sister’s house, a sidewalk going to the upstairs entrance at the side.

The young blonde man of about twenty seems to be a backpacker, possibly from the Netherlands (this is possibly an altered replay of a real-life event when, thanks to a sign the council put up on our fence prior to our moving, various people thought the house was vacant - even throwing rocks at the windows - the police, as usual, showing a cheerful total disinterest - and a pair of Netherlands backpackers were even planning on climbing over the fence and trying to find a way in). I think he is walking to the front of the house due to the other person not being home (which would seem to be an unknown person or persons living upstairs - the “upstairs” only existing at my sister’s house and not ours in Australia - even though it feels a little more like our last address in this part of my dream). He stops just outside the front door of the porch, but is able to reach through the porch windows (in real life, we had jalousie windows around the porch and this would have been very difficult, and impossible with the large cardboard box he had).

I am caught up in a role of mistaken identification but showing total patience (recurring). He hands me a large cardboard box which he received in the mail, saying that the diorama had been “revoked” for some reason as if I am supposed to easily solve his problem somehow. I have no idea what the issue is, but play along. I am not sure if I am supposed to give him his money back, replace it with a different one, or just take it and perhaps give it to someone else. I am also not sure of why it was “revoked”. Perhaps it is not an authentic model or something, or not an authentic portrayal, historically. Perhaps he even entered it in a contest and was blackballed from entering anymore contests. When he hands me the box, he moves his hand away from under one corner, and, not knowing a flap was missing at the bottom, I take the box and some of the contents fall all over the floor through the bottom - this being several miniature soldiers and some other items. Looking down into the box, I see that about fifty percent of the diorama is glued into place, including other toy soldiers still in position.

I apologize to him and pick up all the small pieces and figures (of which there are at least ten or so) to put them back onto the platform of the model, which is a battle scene (a “skirmish”) with a few tanks and soldiers and other features. My mistaken role causes no concern or anger on my part. I look closely at the platform of the model and see what looks like a very small order form or record table with the word “Google” on it, as well as the word “revoked” appearing a few times in red. I am still not sure what the whole thing means even as I wake - and just as I wake, I feel a bit sad at not being able to resolve his issue (recurring) even though I was not the person he was looking for - and even knowing it was a dream.

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Night of October 18, 2013. Friday.



In my dream, an unknown dark-haired female of about thirty or younger is working as a secretary for a business man, apparently working on at least three pages from his (handwritten in blue ink) dream journal at an outdoor cafe in Brisbane (the separate pages of which are on a chair to her left) in copying them onto the computer after writing them out herself prior to that (not sure why she has to write them out by hand again - maybe his writing is a bit hard read, thus difficult to directly work from). The dreams appear to be shorter or concisely summarized, some made up of about three smaller paragraphs of only about four or five sentences.

After a time (I think while working on the third dream journal page), she suddenly seems gripped by some sort of incredible power that completely takes over her body and she sinks back in the chair and writes perfectly and evenly on a mostly blank page while her eyes seem rolled up into her forehead (not due to an entity - but the universe itself). She writes a formula over the page, which takes up about four and a half lines of larger writing. I do not remember it, but it seemed fairly viable at first, though eventually ridiculously layered or complex. Part of it is relating to something like C5 times C6 plus C5 times C6, seen as ((C5 * C6) + (C5 * C6)), so there are also embedded sections using sets of double parentheses. Near the middle of the page, it appears some of the formula is logarithmic, somehow caused by writing over vague impressions of numbers which were already on the paper - possibly related to the business address in a series of pale sample letterheads or watermarks. It looks as if it is something like C base 5 multiplied by C base 6 multiplied by C base 7 and so on (a very odd concept I have never seen in this way), also with some sort of nth (!) factorial to show permutations (quite possibly relating to all the other dimensions or “hidden facets” of the universe or of time/eternity). However, it also seems like another section uses a similar or the same (business watermark?) pattern but in exponential progression (relative to the same watermark being used as a superscript rather than a subscript), for example C to the fifth times C to the sixth times C to the seventh, etc.

However, I am not sure, for a time, if such as C5 (or C6 using the same line of reasoning) would mean variable C times 5 or instead, some sort of computer code formula with C5 representing a BASIC (string) variable of one value (which would not have to be a multiple of five). However, overall, over time, it looks like a plain algebraic construct - so it must mean a standard operation of C times 5, C times 6, etc.

In my dream, the whole thing came out very clearly and slowly so that I was aware - exactly - of what it all was as she was writing it, but now I have mostly forgotten it, which is kind of annoying really, because I think some of the watermark-based nuances might have been a false “replay” of her actual prior writing. In my dream, she comes to with an unusual look of uncertainty on her face.

Morning of October 9, 2013. Wednesday.



My last dream was rather annoying concerning overall content. It involves a fictional development of the “Planet of the Apes” franchise. There are differences in my dream relative to how the plot and theme of the real series developed.

In my dream, all of the apes are very friendly toward humans and have supposed inferiority, as well as being far more realistically ape-like than in the movies, including how they sit and behave in general, but some of them seem to be able to walk a bit more upright. It is quite different in that the apes are mostly the only creatures that ever go into what were once human cities. There are no cats or dogs (as in the real-life series). Most people live in houses a fair distance from the older cities (but which still have supplies for the human population) and have the apes deliver everything to them.

A main difference is that many products are now robotic, even bottles of shampoo, with the ability to communicate with some sort of software and electronics - to inform people of a particular time or status. For example, a bottle of shampoo may walk into the living room and inform the person (relating to a preset schedule) of the nearing time when their hair is due to be washed. An oven may report on a loose wire or other problem and then walk to the city for repairs by other robots. A toy may be badly broken (exposing a sharp edge, for example) and walk itself to an isolated area to be eventually recycled, leaving a small printout from (name of toy) saying “goodbye” when the child is sleeping.

One location in my dream seems to be very loosely based on the rabbit shed in Florida (which later became the setup for a chicken farm). The larger area is otherwise much different, with the area beyond to the west being the outskirts of the city filled with apes, primarily chimpanzees and gorillas. The region is seriously filthy, with ape excrement all over the streets and sidewalks, and there is an animal-like smell everywhere, but it is not overwhelming, just unpleasant.

Near the exit of the “rabbit shed” on a larger board across a foundation column (looking much like our shed in real life at one point), just before a larger view of the city is accessible, sit a couple of larger chimpanzees. One is a young female. I do not think the apes have the power of speech (as in the movies) but “speak” using the same technology as the robotic commercial products. The chimpanzee girl moves a bit closer to me, “saying” how she had learned to kiss like Miley Cyrus from another human (as well as associations with a video) saying the name of the human whose name I can not recall, the thought of which doubly disgusts me in my dream (not finding Miley Cyrus attractive - and only “suddenly” learning who she was in the past week or two with a few horrid photos - as well as wondering why a sane human being would be intimate with a chimpanzee in any way in the first place). I push away the female chimpanzee (and at one point, notice overdone ugly lipstick and partial tongue “bubbling” out getting an impression of an overflowing bowl of rice bubbles - but more maggot-like), but still pet it in a manner to keep it at a distance. The other chimpanzee, her much older father, seems blissfully ignorant of the weird behavior of his daughter and just sits and grins absentmindedly, scratching his armpit and brushing his forehead with the back of his other hand. Eventually the two hug each other as family members and I pat the “old man” chimpanzee, feeling quite sorry for it, moving my hand over his rather large, round, and mostly bald head. I decide not to go into the city because of the smell of apes and ape excrement everywhere and get a vague impression of popular mainstream human culture at the same time, a sort of unusual realization, which is even more off-putting than the ape presence.

Later, some people (a couple looking like nurses) are pulling about a dozen or more very young chimpanzees in a large gated wooden wagon through a large building. There is a violent fight between two young males which seems “like the movie” in an “oh that’s right” association, but in reality, it is not like the movie at all. Young Caesar and Cornelius are fighting, but in the actual movies, they are played by the same actor (Roddy McDowell). This is supposedly the first time apes have been anything other than very docile.

There is also a conspiracy going on. In a ridiculous outcome near the end of my dream, a nurse is electronically “talking” to various products, mainly three; a bottle of shampoo, a lipstick cylinder, and a can of shaving cream for women. Supposedly, there is some sort of “Cyrus virus” in the robotic software that causes the products to malfunction and walk about to endanger the householder and even cause damage to various parts of the house and infect other products, even causing certain foods to become poisonous or filled with rapidly-reproducing bacteria. The nurse puts the scanner over all three products to check - the scenario being quite absurd. She scans the shaving cream and the can says, “I am doing fine and how are you?” She scans this lipstick, which gives the same answer. She then scans the shampoo, which has a more “unusual” voice (relative to what is expected) as if it is trying to mimic that correct response, but sounding more human somehow.

“This is the one”, says the robotics technician serving additionally as a nurse, “we need to recall all modules and reboot the system”. The shampoo bottle sprouts spines and leaks bubbling “venom” and starts wiggling after going “limp”. There is an electronic crackling sound from the plastic bottle, with someone saying “Hello? Hello? Testing one two three,” as if testing a microphone connection.

Morning of October 6, 2013. Sunday.

Dream #: 17,093-01. Reading time (optimized): 3 min. Readability score: 67.



American actor Russell Johnson appears about halfway into my dream as in his role as Professor Roy Hinkley on the American sitcom “Gilligan’s Island.” However, his essence seems closer to home as a local teacher or professor. I am not surprised by his presence.

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My dream takes place mostly in the living room of the Cubitis house (where I have not lived since 1978). My wife Zsuzsanna is in the first part of my dream in my old bedroom in the semidarkness (though she has never been to America). In the living room is a gathering of about ten cane toads. One of them, facing towards the south and underneath a larger metallic table (one my family owned in real life), seems to be aggressive to one of the others. The “mean” toad’s coloring is different, with a darker head than body. Another cane toad is facing him. The one with the darker head is slightly bigger. A fluid is spraying upward in a light but steady narrow stream and arcing down upon the other cane toad. It is a vivid image which I watch for at least a minute or two. The other toad does not seem to retaliate in any way.

Later, the professor is in the house, casually entering on his own via the front door, wanting to study the cane toads. I tell him about the seeming victimization of the toad. I go over to see that all that remains of it is a rectangular purse-like shell of tough skin with no head or legs, with top and bottom sections of the outer layer only. There is a vague association of a toad-skin coin purse, though also vaguely reminiscent of warped plastic-coated playing cards. There is also fluid coming out of the two pieces. Professor Hinkley studies them but I warn him about the toxic fluid, and he develops a minor burn on his hand from some fluid that leaks out. He seems very cheerful and shows interest in the events regarding the cane toads. He shows no sign of concern.

Later, Professor Hinkley and I notice that the other toad is near the front door and is starting to spray upward at us. I have to float, hover, and rise in the air until I am near the ceiling and out of its range. Professor Hinkley walks to different areas of the room and does not attempt to float. The cane toad, with its “fountain of venom” mouth, cannot reach me, but I am still annoyed at having to hover in the air and maneuver near the ceiling, though without much of a focus on physicality regarding weight or gravity, though the feeling is otherwise very vivid and realistic. My dream eventually fades at this point.

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I revised this entry on Tuesday, 16 October 2018, using my new readability software. I have added “telepathic dream” due to it being the probable cause behind the event relating to Russell Johnson’s death from kidney failure on January 14, 2014. There were too many clues in my dream for it to be coincidental despite (or perhaps because of) the mundane correlations. I had not heard anything about him or his health, though he would likely have been at least subliminally aware of it. The other threads that seemed precognitive may be a result of extrasensory awareness.

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There may be a subliminal association of “Professor Hinkley” with “Hinkler Central,” the nearby shopping mall. Recently, Zsuzsanna waited two hours to get the last wildlife card to complete the collection for our children, though another member of the public that had just entered the building went up and got the card immediately as it was suddenly available. (They requested an additional one, but there were none.) We also saw a cane toad in our yard.

My dream had precognitive threads. There is now a leak from the bathroom faucet. It is hard to fix because the cabinet is at a slight slope. When it is off, it is not flat, allowing water to flow past the new part (which I bought at Hinkler Central) and where it should be closed off. It might have worked if it had been flexible enough to cover the angle of the hole.

Also in my dream, Zsuzsanna had a concern about a big bug high on the wall. Afterward, something similar happened, and it turned out to be a big cricket that had gotten into our house.

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I explain this dream type further in “Dreams of Type PRECONAV-VSCPCEL, 01-15”.

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Morning of September 25, 2013. Wednesday.

Dream #: 17,082-04. Reading time: 1 min 38 sec.



My dream brought back to mind a movie I had forgotten about years ago. I watched it tonight with Zsuzsanna (the last time I saw it being about a year before we met). My dream is a fictitious sequel of “The Meteor Man” (1993) that starred Robert Townsend. It has two Caucasian men of about twenty whom I think are involved in a motorcycle repair business.

The two men are seen as villains by certain people at times, even though they save others. There is a scene where they stop a car from crashing and right after that they cool off an angry crowd (who do not like them) who seem to have heat exhaustion - the Meteor Men blowing at them from a distance using “ice breath.” Most of them seem thankful except for a few who immediately leave. They can fly at times, but not very well. An old woman eventually seems annoyed by them following her to make sure she crosses the busy streets safely.

The most bizarre scene is where they visit the original Meteor Man for advice and such. He (Robert Townsend) seems much older, around seventy. He has wondrous powers but seemingly not much control over them as he has supposedly gotten old and his body “too weak” to exhibit more mental focus over. It is from the shifting energies. As he is talking, while giving good advice, he says “I don’t want you to see me like this” (implying they should leave) when he begins changing uncontrollably into an anthropomorphic reptilian pangolin porcupine hybrid. He later changes in other strange ways and his body and height nearly double in size.

At one point, when he is bigger, a turntable seems to be growing vertically and facing forward from below his left shoulder as he faces towards my incorporeal view. Two big flies buzz around and land on the record that is somehow playing vertically as if they are attracted to the partly organic turntable. The two men leave to go off on other misadventures. The movie is unfinished, but this is the point my dream shifts into even more unusual imagery with robotic flies and organic human-like rocks and hair and eyes, and pangolins and porcupine quills, and unusual futuristic buildings. I slowly wake, with a dream within a dream of how I am talking about differences in the different Meteorite Men costumes to Zsuzsanna, as well as other clear images from the real movie.

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Morning of September 24, 2013. Tuesday.



We are living in a different house, seemingly some sort of apartment that is somewhat like the King Street boarding house except that the area that would otherwise be the downstairs foyer is extended out into a much larger living area, oriented east and west.

At one point, a light-haired young man comes in from his own entrance downstairs at the east side of the building, yet it seems the staircase is part of a larger room of our own living area as I am able to look up and see him walking up the steps. He yells really loudly to someone as he is walking up the steps and I hear his friend upstairs yell back. They are still talking at a ridiculous volume even when right next to each other. I am very annoyed. It reminds me of people in real life who talk as loudly as possible even though the other person may be close or even right next to them - have never made much sense of why people are like that (even when I was a child), and it is not when the person is angry, either. It is just another way to impose, while having no self-control or respect for others, I guess.

However, I take an odd approach to how I confront them. One of them comes downstairs again. I say (not aggressively), “Could you please stop shouting? There are other people who do not want to hear it.” I seem to be implying to him that I personally do not mind all the yelling. Strangely enough, he does not get angry. We have a somewhat lengthy and friendly conversation before he continues out of the building. I seem to be in my own place, near the middle of the living room, and he is in his own place by his front door at the bottom of the stairs, even though we seem to be in the same general living area (even the same room), yet living in our own separate homes at the same time - a scene/environment that would not make any sense in real life other than perhaps as with an apartment building with a shared court or similar area for such as hanging clothes or parking or such.

Time passes and things are picked up by an “invisible force” and thrown against the wall, including some of our children’s toys, such as Lego blocks. The furniture is not disturbed that much and I also feel a slight breeze as the curtains are swept back and torn somewhat, like as with larger claws - but I still do not feel very alarmed.

I speak out so that my wife and kids (who are in other rooms) are aware of the events. “It’s a poltergeist,” I say, rather unemotionally, informatively, and with authority, but as if it is not that big of a deal at all. I notice that the other man has returned and is in my family’s living area now. There is also a (fictional) hallway that runs north and south along the east wall of the foyer. I now realize that the other two younger males are ghosts, but usually not all that mischievous. He (the one that had used the stairs) makes a comment about how he has “been like this for awhile” as if he is uncertain of his place in life.

I look at the east wall of the hallway near where there is also a door. The other (dark-haired) ghost seems to be having problems getting through the wall downstairs just to the left of another actual door. His hands come out, glowing green, creating a somewhat interesting unknown emotion (not fear). I make a note of it to my family as if we are watching a performance at a circus or music venue. I go over and help him by pulling on his hands to help him complete his act of going through the wall. The two ghosts are thankful for my help. I even throw a few things around (not in any violent way, just sort of tossing a few unbreakable objects about) supposedly to help them gain confidence in knowing what to do in their apparent new roles as “bolder guys” (poltergeists) so that they can do more of what they are supposed to be doing as ghosts. I then hear some sort of instrumental music, sort of like a harpsichord, but it seems to be coming from an iPhone that one of the ghosts has(?) Eventually, I am aware there are words to the song but I only hear the first few lines, something about waiting at a bus stop and the weather being nice and sunny (from a ghost’s perspective or as light coming in through the window of an old dusty room) as I wake.

Even though I was annoyed by their shouting at first, ironically, I come to “understand” that the poltergeists are normally less loud and annoying than living people in the neighborhood.

Oddly enough, before I actually took any notice, the last three dreams on here (before mine - this being in reference to the dream journal site only) include some of the same scenes or details (not all of which I even included in this shorter entry anyway - but this has happened quite often before and I do not always comment on it):

Exorcism

2 Dragonflies

Grandmother’s Haunted House

The following is a formal rewrite of a 2013 online dream journal entry with added supplementation on Tuesday, 14 August 2018.



Wooden Bridge Mishap of a Friend

Morning of September 18, 2013. Wednesday.

Reading time: 4 min 58 sec. Readability score: 63.

My dream contains features, in a typical composite, from two recurring settings that always vary, as do all settings. One has the appearance of an area in Wisconsin near Chipmunk Coulee (where I lived as a child), and the other is a partial model of the fishing pier in El Jobean, Florida (pictured above). It is inherently a model of subliminal dream state awareness. It is caused by deliberately entering into the dream state with lucidity and expectancy, the setting being a manifestation of this process, but losing the essence of the consciously aware self on the other side of liminal space, though while still maintaining the thread of dream state awareness and wonder if only subliminally. Its foundation is from the Enchanted Forest from Harvey Comics.

The wooden bridge in this dream is a deliberate form of both dream state induction and potential exit upon which the basis is the vestibular system correlation of the otherwise illusory dream body. It stems from the concept of crossing over into a different level of consciousness while maintaining the balance of illusion and elevation from the real physical body. As with a porch, it is one of the most common buffers as such. This reactive representation developed from before I could read and write.

Part of an offset dream before returning to the induction point involves me hand-washing about five darker pairs of my socks in the Loomis Street house in Wisconsin. (This is a subliminal thread of awareness that I am not wearing socks in my sleep.) I think that I will travel north. I have a familiar idea that I have had in many previous dreams - that I will fly about and live and sleep in the trees and fly around mostly only at night in a cloak or bed sheet. The false memory of paying $15.00 a month to live with undesirable males does not appeal to me.

Eventually, I become aware that I will be exploring the Enchanted Forest with Rick, a friend from Chicago during my young-adult years in La Crosse. As we approach the wooden bridge, I see that it does not seem suitable for cars, as the wood is thin plywood. It also does not seem wide enough for cars and people to cross at the same time. I am aware, though, that they are probably still working on building or repairing the bridge at this time and the plywood is only temporary.

Rick and I jog over the first sections and curves, heading east to the wondrous place, but there is concern from Rick that cars may be approaching from behind us from the west, though I do not see or hear any. I move along confidently, running over an area where a small section of wood is missing near the railing to my right. It is about as wide as a person’s waist, big enough to fall through if not paying attention. I soon realize, though, that Rick may not see it if he is not watching where he is going. Sure enough, when he reaches the small open area, he falls through to the ground below only a moment before I start to warn him, about twenty feet, immediately beginning to scream and moan in pain. For a short time, I think about going on by myself, especially as I am aware of a farm below where people may help him.

I look through the gap to see that Rick had picked up the section of plywood that had fallen from the bridge a few days ago. He uses it to saw off the tail from a dog that is watching a flock of sheep. I feel embarrassed by his act as I see an unknown woman approaching him (from the east) to see what is going on. I consider that he will get into trouble. However, she does not seem concerned about the dog. I ask Rick several times if he had broken his leg, but I do not get a clear answer. Eventually, I reach down, and with the help of the woman, we manage to get him back up through the hole. At this point, the distance to the ground seems only about six feet, despite the view from moments before, when it was a very long distance down.

He sits down to rest to look at his leg. I become annoyed that my dream may end before we get to the more secluded area that has beautiful scenery as well as healing energy. (This is interesting, as my dream self is not lucid.) There may also be treasures there. The left side of his left knee, by the kneecap, comes off in four or five smaller ceramic-like pieces that he turns around in his hand with a slight concern. I am not sure if we will be going to the hospital from that point when my dream fades.

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Most of what is in this dream is from autoscripting, developed over a lifetime, though which remains primarily subliminal after moving beyond liminal space. Unfortunately, people who believe in “dream interpretation” seem incapable of understanding that, so I will explain some threads here.

Rick’s entry into my dream is a factor of the continuous persistence of dream state indicators (the subliminal, liminal, or lucid awareness of being asleep and in the dream state). For several months, one of the only status updates on his Facebook timeline was “Rick is going to the mattresses,” including a few times on the date of this dream. That was from updates from a Facebook game he played a lot. It is, of course, a play on going to sleep and dreaming of which I could not block once going beyond liminal space to a point beyond where viable lucidity could exist. Therefore, “Rick is going to the mattresses” was unintentionally part of the autoscripting, and his appearance resulted, not as the usual preconscious avatar but as a projection of my dream self. (The woman who helped him up through the hole was the preconscious avatar in this case.) I am often aware of what is scripting my dreams in real time, though without viable lucidity.

The cutting off of the dog’s tail is from an induction affirmation, “I am made of the healthiest energies in the universe.” It unintentionally stemmed from “puppy dogs’ tails…that’s what little boys are made of.” His left knee being ceramic is a reminder that the physicality of the dream state is illusory. (Left is associated with the direction of sleep induction and dreaming, as I most often sleep on my left side.) It also ties in with one of my first recalled dreams about a ceramic chicken. In real life, the healing of Zsuzsanna’s right knee (beyond medical possibility) had been the result of healing affirmations and, by her belief, my presence (and us finally meeting). It all fits even as a typical distortion, as my original companion on the induction bridge was Brenda, who was proven to have been a stand-in for Zsuzsanna. In childhood dreams, I deliberately (for drama and adventure) fell from the bridge, landing in a prehistoric world, though there were many resets and alternate versions of that series that I used for years.

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Morning of September 4, 2013. Wednesday.



In my dream, I am following a small spacecraft in my incorporeal form in outer space. It is implied that at least two astronauts are coming back to Earth in a somewhat random and unexpected trajectory. The spacecraft looks much like the Apollo 11 lunar module.

The main focus seemingly takes place in the asteroid belt. However, instead of asteroids there is somehow a smaller sun in orbit around the main sun. Over time, I watch the spacecraft seem to bump and turn around the smaller sun’s corona in an unusual way. I see the imagery later as if looking at a spectrograph (though at one point looks similar to a Hertzsprung–Russell diagram). The event continues for several minutes. The spacecraft does not seem to have any obvious problems from extreme heat, as it is just slightly out of control, supposedly relative to the pull of gravity.

Eventually, the astronauts are back on Earth. I am only aware of this from an unknown perspective and focus, including from what seems to be the news as seen on television.

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The inability of my non-lucid dream self to viably discern the physical body’s location in unconsciousness is the main foundation of this dream. Outer space is certainly not as common a liminal space setting as other forms of waking transition dynamics. Although it centers upon the RAS waking factor as the sun in its autosymbolism of representing the conscious self identity, the additional smaller sun is curious, but probably represents the conscious identity of Zsuzsanna, as other dreams with two suns have been validated to signify this REM state dynamic. Remember that the dream self is not the conscious self and that autosymbolism and other threads primarily represent the dream state itself and the waking transition as easily discernible here with its literal “return to daylight” theme. Of course, the rest of my dream is the typical equilibrium ambiguity, due to the vestibular system not being viable when unconscious.

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Morning of September 1, 2013. Sunday.



My family and I go out for a walk, partly to take a look at a supposed “mystery” home relating to a special house of some kind - maybe even a place we will actually live or own. It actually turns out to be on King Street in La Crosse (even though my family here has never been to America) the third (fictional) house from my corner. My actual apartment house is on the corner but that is not the main focus, and every other house and structure is completely different from real life along the entire street (both sides).

East of is a cul-de-sac that is like some sort of open squarish U-shaped kitchen or storage area, the “ends” pointing west. Near the last part of my dream we walk around through it from north to south and I note that I had moved a refrigerator earlier and maybe blocked part of the path on the northwest where people go in from, but no drama ensues even though I notice others (one, an alcoholic) just coming into that side. (The alcoholic is someone I sort of knew in real life on the job years ago but who was not a close friend.)

Earlier in my dream, there is a rather unusual mood. I am not sure about the dynamics of the house or what makes it mysterious. It is some sort of mystery like no other mystery, even in a personal sense. I have had numerous dreams throughout life of odd houses here and there, where piles of old wood take up much of the inside (especially in seemingly very old, long-abandoned two-storey houses whereby someone still seems to live there at times), or with other unusual aspects. This almost seems to be one of those types of dreams, but the house of mystery turns out to be more like a modern low-set brick or concrete home, rather small, reminding me vaguely of my home in Cubitis. We notice piles of rubbish everywhere, in smaller bags, even near the family’s car. It seems perhaps they are moving.

I notice that the license plate on the rear of the car (1970s cream-colored station wagon with simulated wooden panels on the side - a brother-in-law owned one similar to this, but not the same) reads “COCINA 53”, which means kitchen (Spanish) and may relate to my age in a few months. About twenty-five percent of the car is out from the low, attached garage (on the eastern side of the home), facing to the south.

Later, my mother (who died October 2, 2002 at age 86) is with us. We are looking into a large dumpster on the southern part of the street for potential “treasures” as “scavengers”, maybe to find something to sell. The entire bottom of the dumpster (aside from a few randomly-sized empty cardboard boxes) is filled with still unopened and unused plastic packages of a series of recipe booklets, arranged in newer-looking cardboard boxes (as if never distributed from the company), that sell for about ten to twenty dollars or so per week via one of those real-life subscription services - which end up costing thousands of dollars for a recipe book’s worth of material (the same being true of those animal fact sheets and such which also end up costing thousands of dollars by the time the collection is complete - or about $3,600.00 for a three-year collection/subscription, and parts often go missing or there is duplication or printing problems).

I had discovered I had been carrying a bag full of recipes and was going to give them to my mother, but she said she was not interested in any of the set, as there might be printing errors and missing sleeves or booklets or such, so I throw the bag in with the rest. It may be that most of the booklets are all identical or just from one or two weeks of publication. We then move on to the cul-de-sac event mentioned earlier.

Relative to the unusual fictional setting, see also the following dreams:

Hall Kitchens?

Submarine

UPDATE: This turned out to have the usual visually precognitive elements (regarding a movie we saw later - by chance), but nothing important in my opinion. It mostly related to the parked car of a make I haven’t seen very often.

Morning of August 29, 2013. Thursday.



One part of my dream is related to seeing a park as if in a documentary (although it seems I am actually there at times). The first person seems normal other than having about three large layers of completely loose skin on the right side of his head, which also have a bit of hair. Mostly, there are interviews regarding the day-to-day challenges of life. Parts of the skin actually seem slightly larger than his head in particular areas.

Later on, the deformities become more and more diverse. There is a person who is like Schlitzie the pinhead.

One of the people looks very small (only about two feet tall) and also as if he has a mostly blue body and a head that looks like a baby bird with fuzzy fly-like (but not bulging) eyes and a straight black fuzzy beak instead of a mouth but yet is also more mouse-like overall than bird-like. (He looks a little like the Muppet Gonzo crossed with the aliens at the end of Star Trek’s “Cat’s Paw” episode in some ways.) However, this still does not seem all that unusual to me. I focus on the rather bizarre imagery and think that he is probably no different than other people in terms of mind, thought, and desires (even though the brain would be very small).

There is another section of my dream that seems to have no direct connection to any aspect of my usual thoughts and aspirations. I work for various well-known actors, one of them a young Sean Connery. My job is to “rescue” certain parts of paintings (almost as if they were “alive” in some way), such as the Mona Lisa, supposedly owned by Sean Connery who I later see at a larger open area in a park near at least two picnic tables with several other people gathered - and other paintings that are in museums in real life, but owned by actors in my dream. There are several repeating scenarios in terms of main ideas, but very diverse in imagery and even mood at times.

A strange, very unattractive, unkempt, and chubby woman (about forty) has the Mona Lisa. I need to get in and get out of her house safely, taking the parts of the painting that need to be “rescued”, which in this case, are the lips; upper lip and bottom lip separately. I have special weapons and items to help me in my work. I use a special, rather complex knife to cut out the upper lip, which seems more and more three-dimensional and a piece of art and sculpture in itself. The same is true for the taking out of the bottom lip, which I do without too much trouble. The female thief is very angry, but I manage to stop her from killing me by running a two-toned (in color, purple and white) retractable rod through her upper body, which takes a few attempts. The rod is like a more complex device that is somewhat antenna-like in that the two differently-colored sections can collapse into each other for ease of carrying on a mission. The woman is not even hurt that much it seems (even though I am certain there were wounds through her whole body), but I manage to get away with the stolen “art”. It seems likely that she is part of a gang of art thieves.

I vaguely worry that people at the park gathering will eat the cake (or “lips”), which now looks like sections of fancy cupcakes that I try to arrange a bit more neatly near the edge of the picnic table, with a few crumbs falling away here and there - even some of the several layers not quite “in line” - and I will not get any recognition of my accomplishments (or having risked my life) in my work and special missions. (I may be the only active agent of such missions.) People meander about, oblivious to the art recovery. I think of trying to get Sean’s attention, but I do not actually attempt it. However, it does seem I am paid somehow, and I eventually understand that I now have $600.00 in my wallet (along with other papers, which possibly relate to spying) as I shift into a different dream.

My dream that followed the above one is fairly simple; involving mostly walking about in various locations with the pinhead I knew in real life.

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Known precognitive/postcognitive elements:

As usual (but only occasionally documented online), there were very precise precognitive and postcognitive elements relating to real life:

1. Page 11 (half the “master number” and a “key” itself) of a library book (I had not seen) my wife and sons had been working with is called “Let’s Eat Cake!” (with pictures of cupcakes everywhere) and in the list it has “Can you spot…” and “a mouse?” (regarding the “freak” mouse/bird/human creature) following. This is also comparable to the concept of being a spy or detective and finding certain hidden things by separating them from the more complex setups.

2. The next page (which they had spent time trying to work out and my wife said she “had in her mind” for awhile) has “Can you spot…” followed by both “a cupcake” and “a pair of wax lips”. In the actual photo, the pair of wax lips has, under it, a device that looks very similar to the “weapon”/rod from my dream and is also of the same two colors (purple and white).

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Morning of August 24, 2013. Saturday.



One unusual and unlikely recurring setting in my dreams is a public park (often unfamiliar) that has small cemeteries (such as 4x5, 3x4, or 4x4 lots) near picnic and recreation areas, usually without fencing. Either the park is about half the size of a city block (within a slightly elevated area of four lower streets in an urban area) or a larger isolated park with the sections being sparser with a long road on one side (and sometimes an adjacent dense forest). Sometimes, the graves are very old (as far back as the 1700s).

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In this dream, I seem to have arrived by car (my brother-in-law Bob or perhaps a brother having driven me here). The park is very large, seemingly to the north of where I am. A mostly featureless area with a long road is to the south and the park is oriented east and west. The areas between the several 3x4 “mini-cemeteries” are larger than usual and there are a lot of recreational events, such as Frisbee-throwing, amateur softball, and picnicking. There is one area that is somewhat like a composite of the Onalaska Cemetery and the Bundaberg Cemetery.

I am thinking that it is getting later, near sunset, and I am wondering why so many people are still in the park and playing around, even having lunch. I start to run around and enjoy the more open spaces and I soon find myself floating and flying about.

I maintain an unusual floating position about four feet above the ground. I am facing downwards but my upper body is at a upright forty-five degree angle while my legs are somehow horizontal and my arms out behind me to the sides. I float about like this for several minutes, even going over gravesites with no fear or concern, with a sense of freedom and near-bliss. (I seem to remember seeing this flying position of a ghost in an older Harvey comic book.)

I land near a group of people but near the internal edge of an unfenced 3x4 “mini-cemetery” and the headstone of a grave. I put my right arm effortlessly down through the ground until I reach the implied coffin, expecting to find a skull. It seems like I am only a hologram and my arm is at a different location. This is a recurring concept in my dreams, where I am supposedly doing something physical in the environment yet I am projected from elsewhere, thus I cannot be hurt in such a rendering if someone wants to approach me in a violent manner.

Some people seem afraid or wary of me and my ability to push my arm into solid ground. Instead of a skull, my fingers move around in a partly gritty pile, about two feet down, of large thin seashell-like flakes which seem to be in a casket. (This possibly relates to when I used to walk through the cemetery on my way to the grocery store seeing large plastic bowl-like containers of seashells on many graves.)

Eventually, I pull a figure out of the ground. It is more like a life-sized human statue at first, the monument on the Jennie Haniver tomb that must have fallen and been partly buried, but the outer layers (or “crust”) break away from the statue’s face and it turns out to be a human female, likely Jennie Haniver herself, who had died on or around 1723, yet she is now smiling and happy (and is also my wife Zsuzsanna as there is the association that she was - in a symbolic sense - the “real” Jennie Haniver who was lost at sea at age 22, Zsuzsanna’s age when we first made contact, and we even named one of our daughters “Revinah” as a middle name, and in a few dreams the Blue Pearl is Jennie Haniver and even the movie shows bluish streaks of light as she sinks to the depths of the ocean).

One man who seems to be like a chauffeur from the 1930s starts yelling in horror. “Oh no, what is that, what is going on? Somebody please tell me what is going on!”

It turns out to be some sort of prank while filming the television show “Scare Tactics”. My wife Zsuzsanna had been wearing some sort of elaborate outfit covered with powder to look like a gravesite monument at first so that then the “statue” is implied to “come to life” to scare the target audience.

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Again, this was influenced by the Jennie Haniver plot (dream pun?) of which there have been a number of connections (regarding the 1978 movie “The Bermuda Depths”). For example, Zsuzsanna’s step father’s name is “Davy Jones” (as in “Davy Jones’ Locker” implied by the movie as to where Jennie Haniver lives). The first song I heard in public in Australia (before marrying Zsuzsanna) was sung by a chubby man who sounded like Wayne Newton. He was happily strutting along in public, his head moving about and grinning at me (even though most other people in the Brisbane Central area looked rather sad by comparison) and singing “It came from the bottom of the deep blue sea, it come from the bottom of the sea!”.

As the “statue” I pull up out of the ground turns out to be Zsuzsanna, there is similarity to my precognitive uprooted lamp dream. I have the ability in this dream to dig deeper for answers and with less resistance than other people seem to expect or accept (thus which may also symbolize precognition). On the basic level, it simply symbolizes my growing awareness of my wife Zsuzsanna waking up for the day. (This is the usual meaning of a statue coming to life in a dream. Reference: What does a statue coming to life in a dream mean? It means the conscious mind is becoming more active as a waking precursor. Most non-lucid dream symbols and metaphors, first and foremost, relate directly to sleeping, dreaming, and waking in real time.)

Morning of July 23, 2013. Tuesday.



I am in Egypt (although it sometimes seems to be Italy), but some areas seem like urban areas in the USA (New York), and I am in an area where there are a lot of unusual ancient structures, some of the area being like a desert. There is a lot of folklore and even books about one larger pyramid, especially. It is a four-sided pyramid with various faces, seemingly carved just inside from the outer walls and looking out in mostly even rows, probably at about five levels - almost like a “people looking out the windows of the bus” effect on each row, but more separated in individual “windows” or frames. There is some work near the base, but it is not quite determined as to what it is. Somehow, what exists now or what is “left” is thought by some to be the remains of people from another planet with the pyramid being a spacecraft, so that the “carvings” are actually some sort of skeletal or mummified heads of beings like Osiris (from another planet) who came to Earth. Other people have no belief in the various theories about the “spacecraft” and say it is just a pyramid with statues, carvings, and such. There are even indications that certain restorations had been made to the structure over many years and some of the original content is missing now.

There is one part that makes little sense relating to supposed evidence of the spacecraft having left a very large, wide area of empty or changed ground from rocket exhaust or something along those lines - plants do not grow and buildings have never been built there - proof at any rate, of the supposed spacecraft landing. However, it is said that the area was as it was from thousands of people killing themselves at the same time centuries ago(?) I get this impression of an extremely large group of people - seemingly soldiers of some kind, facing away from the pyramid from all four sides and somehow dying all at the same time in a “perfect” position - but really, it makes little sense at all, especially as the ground is supposedly all barren and with no human remains, either. I almost am able to imagine the spacecraft full of “people” having landed all those centuries ago. Later, I notice what seems to be plumbing or tubes in some outer areas. Time passes and I and a few others walk around in other areas, including near a few barns and what seems like smaller businesses.

There is another “real spacecraft” from ancient times, supposedly - this one inside a modern building, but it is almost more like a model of the other one (without the faces) - about the size of a refrigerator. A lot of it is different from the original now. It is sort of like a four-sided pyramid, but not quite. There is a half-circle gauge of some kind near the top that looks fairly new and there are other newer mechanical parts as well as more plumbing of some kind. A few people seem to think it is hilarious that people in the region think that what is left of the ancient structures was related to space travel or other beings. There is some sort of business meeting or lecture where it is pondered “Why did Osiris cross the road?” (meaning why did he travel through space to Earth, although one idea is why did he travel from Egypt to Italy) - one answer being understood to be “to become the Pope”. However, one “ancient spacecraft” seemingly turns out to be the “Optical, Spectroscopic, and Infrared Remote Imaging System” of the European Space Agency (OSIRIS) or possibly “Origins Spectral Interpretation, Resource Identification and Security” (OSIRIS but of USA - NASA) or something equally confusing.

Some of the ancient artifacts (but not all - including the large pyramid) turn out to be combinations of defunct satellites and parts of plumbing and abandoned prototypes of inventions.

A life-sized Egyptian image/painting of “Osiris” is on display - but turns out to be the Pope, even though he looks exactly like some images of Osiris, including the white robes and “tall white hat” (mitre). “The Pope is Osiris” someone says - believing he somehow came from the ancient “spacecraft” pyramid - even though the “remains” back at the pyramid were still there.

Later, there is a large business office with a long rectangular table that is also supposedly an ancient structure of some kind, yet looks more like a modern display case. I actually say “it looks like a display case” in my dream even though it was once supposedly a tomb/sarcophagus. I do not see anything inside it through the glass, though.

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Five other examples of the “Acknowledging the Sleeper (Type 2)” dream type:

The Three Lives of my Dream Girl

The Dead One

Indoor Ziggurat Tomb

Beyond the Martian Time Barrier / The Martian Casket

The Count’s Body

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Morning of June 27, 2013. Thursday.



In my dream, from my orientation and viewpoint, I seemingly remain a normal human being despite what my role is.

I start out being in some sort of makeshift prison or refugee camp. There seem to be only men. The rooms are dirty as if the building had been abandoned long ago, at least for its original purpose, yet used for many years after as it is now seemingly not maintained.

Two men bring a third angry-looking man up to me, a man holding each of the held man’s arms, one on each side of him and with both their hands. I do not like the situation. It is understood that even though I am not a part of the group (as most of them seem either Irish or English), my job is to get them all to safety in another country somehow. Still, that does not explain why this man is angry. Perhaps he does not want to escape with the others, or maybe he is a spy.

There are some odd perceptual changes and scene shifts when I become more annoyed by my location, which seems to be a composite of a very dirty large open bathroom and gymnasium. There is something known about everyone getting out and all going to an area where it will be easier to get to the UK, which is where everyone is escaping to. I am unsure if the UK is their original home, or a place where they will all claim asylum. I am also unsure of what country or city we are in. At times, it seems that I am already in the UK relative to names of areas and later hearing members of the public who speak with a British accent.

The actor Bruce Willis is in the refugee camp, appearing unkempt and desperate. He is not a main character; just a homeless person I see only in the background a couple times.

I seem to be walking on my own later, yet somehow I am “carrying” all the other people from the refugee or prison camp. Not only am I supposedly a large ship, I am a large ship on land, moving fairly fast, yet still fully human of my normal size from my viewpoint, just running along, on my way to freedom, helping many others to get to safety. I stop at the edge of a steep bank of a larger river near a forest. An unfamiliar man and woman of about thirty or more, who appear to be English, point out where I should go (to my right) because that is the general direction of where the “Brit Rivers” are that will eventually lead “us” to freedom, apparently across the ocean, yet the name somehow also seems like a resort or hotel where they had stayed in the past.

From my orientation, it seems I may actually be in Nova Scotia (Canada) and moving north, possibly in Sydney (not in Australia, but the Nova Scotia Sydney - some sort of confusion with the other Sydney, perhaps). It eventually seemingly turns out this refugee or prison camp was in Sydney, Nova Scotia (or somewhere just to the south) for some unknown reason (a vague backstory of England and Nova Scotia at war or dealing with too many refugees), and the plan is to get to the ocean north of Sydney and then swim east from there or, as a ship, to get to the UK. I am a walking human “boat” that is somehow “full of people”, yet again, still normal and human-sized and seemingly on my own.

The most vivid part of my dream starts, with a few dangerous thrills, though I feel wonderful. I jump into the river, vividly feeling the cold water and motions and current - but the current takes me westerly and in the wrong direction - and at times, I barely keep above the surface. Eventually though, I end up going in the right direction. I vividly feel myself moving through the water, again, just barely above the surface at some points, though I am not actually struggling because, after all, I am apparently a boat and just being tossed around like a boat on the rough waves. There is one point when I move swiftly through tunnels a lot like the scene from “The Goonies” (from 1985), which is really thrilling but also a bit worrisome (somewhat claustrophobic and without certainty if it will come to a dead end with no way to get back - a sparsely recurring dream concept). I am then back moving through the ocean on my way to carrying all the escaped prisoners to either their old home or a new one.

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