non-lucid

Morning of June 27, 2013. Thursday.



In my dream, I was shopping for food, a not uncommon recurring scene, probably because I do a lot of food shopping for my family in real life. There is almost always something unusual about the food or about my money (such as being printed on only one side though realistic otherwise, or being Monopoly game money, or foreign).

I had selected some supposedly good meat at a store that had opened just recently (or reopened after a long closure - as a few have since the floods here in real life). The cut is unusual, like a very thick and more rounded steak and I have two of them. The manager is there and he is making a claim about how good their food is. There are also two other pieces of meat, perhaps chicken, or a different, smaller cut of beef or pork - and I remember that I had some other items, including cheese or something processed and in a small cardboard container. I soon understand that I had forgotten to wrap the meat pieces up myself prior to purchase as the manager makes a note of it, similar to how a shopper bags his own fruits and vegetables in many cases.

The meat itself looks very strange (although the bone and outside area is seemingly normal), like a sort of transparent and soft pink jelly, although it actually seems more like watermelon, but is still “seen” as “meat”. I can see a total of four cigarettes inside farther down, two in each cut of “steak”. There is this strange idea that they somehow got into the food when it was being processed or “made” (although the idea is pointless, as the meat would be otherwise solid in real life - unless it is a “fake steak” made of various bits of meat). Although these cigarettes are new and unsmoked and encased in the jelly-like meat, I still get the sickly impression of dirty cigarette butts, ashes, and dirty water and chemicals (and people of ill health having touched my supposedly “fresh” food) and a growing disgust at having almost bought this awful “second-hand” or “used” food.

Another shopper, a female of about thirty, is looking at the meat in awe, seemingly being surprised by such a thing being in a store and for sale. As we look down, one of the cigarettes encased inside the pink “meat jelly” somehow lights itself rather brightly and dramatically (with no oxygen yet, although reminding me somewhat of a sparkler, as sparks seem to fly out from the cigarette as well, even when inside the “meat jelly”) and parts of the steak explode from the side, but no one is hurt. Another one does that as well. For some reason, as the cigarettes light themselves and explode and mostly burn up, the more sickening feeling I had lessens just a little, but I still make a mental note not to shop here again and leave everything else here as well without buying anything.

I have not been near a smoker (other than occasionally in public settings around people I do not know) in over twenty years. Neither of my parents nor friends smoked as I was growing up. Also, I rarely eat steak on its own, as I have always found it (even as a child) akin to trying to chew on a shoe. I do eat beef and all meat in other forms, but not nearly as much as other people. Perhaps this is some sort of play on “smoked” meat for whatever reason or more likely, implying that eating a lot of red meat is as unhealthy as smoking.

I have included the “dream journal synchronicity” tag because of this entry which appeared right after mine but with a date just prior to mine: WATERMELON

Morning of June 21, 2013. Friday.



Here are a couple dreams of the same date with a few different scenes.

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There is a flood again, but the water comes mostly from large tidal waves that somehow move more inland. Some people are looking for survivors as there is still a danger from more flooding.

There is a strange scene of riding the fast, powerful waves just to get to another area, perhaps to our house, as I was getting my youngest son and oldest daughter from some sort of group meeting or visit in a building from a room that was a bit like my old apartment on King Street.

A woman is looking for her young daughter of about four or five years and I help a few people dig through the mud near a curb. She was trapped under a lot of mud near the curb and must have somehow gone through the storm drain, which is also filled with mud, and yet she is somehow still alive. However, it would be impossible in real life to take pieces out of the street and sidewalk so easily, although it is broken up a bit in my dream. The girl’s breathing makes bubbles come up through the mud and a thinner layer of water over the mud. Also, it seems there are several storm drain chimney-like sections very close together.

In another dream, I have my old snub-nosed revolver and end up protecting a few people from another person who has a gun, but who sort of becomes a friend. This was probably heavily influenced by a two-part episode of “Deep Space Nine” I had just seen (“Past Tense” parts 1 and 2).

There is trouble with another person who seems to be a threat to the area, but then Superman arrives (I have not seen the new “Superman” movie yet - “Man of Steel” - but may in a few years - also really tired of hearing the word “reboot”, which is mindless, way overused “trendspeak”).

There are about five repeating “takes” in a row in this dream that are mostly the same. I shoot Superman on the right side of his stomach, and he seems surprised and is badly injured (but not dead). People are amazed. All I did was use a Kryptonite bullet, which anyone could do, really.

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I have tentatively decided to classify part of this as precognitive (I never do this unless it is verified with at least a few details involved, but this still happens continuously and has since earliest memory), as my young niece in the USA had to drive through flood waters around the time I was dreaming this - around the same streets as in this dream - and I last saw her in real life when she was very young. Could be coincidence in this case, though, as floods are a fairly common theme, both precognitive and somewhat symbolic, perhaps. However, almost all my dreams contain at least a few clearer implied precognitive elements of one kind or another.

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Morning of June 19, 2013. Wednesday.



This is a long convoluted dream with the main theme being the Rapture (as in being lifted or teleported into Heaven, which some Christians apparently believe). It combines humor, movie-like scenarios, and erratic confusion of words and ideas that only a dream can hopelessly distort so thoroughly, yet which still leaves an overall good feeling, as it colored my mood in a very cheerful way.

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Firstly, I find out about and focus on a few ideas I had not known or at least not thought about much before. In my dream, the “Rapture” is called, or related to, the “Prodigy”. In my dream, I look up the word “prodigy” (liminally recalling it has nothing to do with anything ominous), but find a wrong meaning in two different dictionaries. One entry reads as “Of or relating to the time period from ages 8 to 8 years”. Another entry in a different dictionary reads as “8-8”. So, “prodigy” supposedly only means an eight-year-old child in my dream (and for some reason, I know it means a boy only). It is amusing that the one age was unnecessarily shown as a span.

On an important side note, even though I was certain that the word “prodigy” was only associated with a child with a special talent, I looked it up and found another (apparently no longer used) meaning being “something regarded as of prophetic significance”, something I did not consciously know or remember, so this is possibly postcognitive, though I might have seen this meaning before and not remembered.

There is also some nonsense with a different word; “accolade” (associated with “livestock accolade”, which I have not heard before in real life). According to my dream, this is when God will lift up sheep, horses, cows, and other domestic farm animals into the sky during the animal part of the Rapture, before he gathers the humans.

In my dream, my wife Zsuzsanna is still a child, though has a flock of sheep in Nimbin on a large area of farmland. She has something written in red on her left heel, which may be “prodigy” or “rapture” or possibly another word (though reading in dreams typically results in the letters or words changing when looking at them again). When her sheep are lifted into the sky and they vanish into the clouds, she seems concerned, as her family seems angry at her for having “lost” them. However, a short time later, people witness cows being “Raptured” - or make that, only one cow, with great difficulty. Although some of the other cows are lifted by the invisible force and hover a bit, they are soon all dropped but one. The baffled people look on as the one cow swirls around seemingly experiencing a fair amount of stress and never does make it up into the clouds. So much for the Cow Rapture. People, even the religious ones in the fields, start looking a bit concerned as if they do not quite know what they are in for and some even sneak out of the area.

There is another scene where I am in a large van in Nimbin with young Zsuzsanna and her family (and her family’s friends). (I am not sure if it is the one her mother painted dolphins on, but it may be.) I am the only one being “Raptured” at the time for some reason (perhaps because I am from the future as I now begin to contemplate as such), and people are asking me, if I come back from the Rapture, to tell them what happened.

However, as I am inside the van, its ceiling seems to be made of “frozen rain clouds”. I keep rising up, crashing through the ice of the frozen clouds, and going back down a short distance as I hover a bit, and each time, large amounts of cold water fall down upon me and the others inside the van, releasing the “rain” in larger, more compact streams. This continues for what seems a long time. I am facing downward with my arms out a bit, and after time passes, it feels more and more exhilarating, with an extremely vivid and wonderful sense of weight and momentum and cooler temperature of the kind I very much enjoy on a hot day. I start to wonder if I will eventually go out through the roof of the van or if all the “rainwater” will eventually be released from out of the doors of the van (though there is no indication of water rising inside the van). As I float up and down, I hit the ice at various levels of strength each time. At this point, it feels somewhat like a standard flying dream, not nearly as unfettered yet more thrilling in some ways. It continues until I slowly wake, feeling rejuvenated.

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(Of course, this is a vestibular system correlation waking process as is typical of many of my dreams; an average of more than one per sleep cycle, in fact. The van is an autosymbolic extension of my physical body as singular vehicles usually are. Concerning the flying cows, there was possibly influence from the flying cow scenes in “Twister” and “The Wizard of Oz”, and possibly even influence from the nursery rhyme line, “the cow jumped over the moon”, as there seemed to be influence from “Little Bo Peep” as well.)

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Morning of June 19, 2013. Wednesday.



This dream uses a fairly recurring idea of human remains being inside a couch (sometimes inside the cushions).

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In my dream, I am sharing a place with the actor from the television series “Lost”, Josh Holloway, that I vaguely dreamt of only once before as his Sawyer character (in a representation of Tom Sawyer in that particular dream). In this dream he is also his Sawyer character, but instead, named Sylvester (even after waking, “Sylvester” seemed to be his “real” name or “identify”). The apartment seems to be one I had in real life at King Street when I was in my late teens, the one where I also had a noisy refrigerator in one of two larger closets and which was an “expensive” $25.00 a week. (I had, in total, three different apartments in that large historical house during those years; the smaller L-shaped one in back, the one in front with the rocket-like cupola on the east side, and a larger one near the middle of the building as in this dream.)

He is sleeping on the couch in our apartment, but wakes up because the couch seems to be moving inside. A large nail is sort of moving out from its position along the top area of the frame of the seat area in front, near the middle, but closer to the west end. This is very mysterious as if from some sort of ghostly activity. The nail slowly moves out as if representing some sort of approaching eerie revelation. Sylvester seems a bit nervous. I mostly find it curious and not really frightening in any way.

Eventually, there are bluish-green fingers visible, of a sort of ghostly nature that continue to work in moving the nail. The fingers are the only thing that is visible at the time, seeming to come out of the surface of the wood around the nail. (Some sort of odd play on “fingernail”?)

A little later, the east arm of the couch opens up from the front (I think we both may have pulled the upholstery off) - on my left when facing the couch - showing it to be somewhat like a two-level shelf. The bottom area holds a human skull, the second “shelf” or part of the internal couch frame holds a bowl of old human eyes and hair, and a skeletal hand is also inside the arm.

Sylvester is rather alarmed and of course, people must be told. There is no idea at all of whom it may have been or what happened. I am thinking that the bluish-green hand may be part of an arm that was kept in another part of the couch and acting somewhat like ghostly “remains”.

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It is easy to determine here that the “ghost” inside the couch (a dream sign, as one can sleep on a couch) is a subliminal distorted perception of my sleeping body. But why Josh and why is he called Sylvester? He played a character that was on an island (dream state within sleep as water represents sleep). I associate the name Sylvester with the cartoon character Sylvester the Cat. A cat is a circadian rhythms feature (as well as a liminal space element) typically based on nighttime activities (such as dreaming). (Even though a cat seems to sleep a lot, they are of course active in the daytime.) The skull on the shelf represents lesser critical thinking skills (such as reading books) while in the dream state.

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Morning of June 18, 2013. Tuesday.



This was my long dream of walking and sometimes running over a seemingly long distance while being apparently pursued by someone we never see though possibly more like a remotely controlled mobile weapon, though not directly being chased. (I get the impression at times that the weapon or person remains mostly in one place in the distance.) There is a part near the beginning where a friend and I duck down just in time to have a small missile barely miss us. I can feel the wind and the movement as it hits and explodes dramatically a short distance from us. It is so close, there is a feeling that it may have even brushed across my back as I was kneeling down, as there is a sensation of weight having pushed upon me, but there is no pain or injury.

I soon discover that I have some sort of device that is somewhat like a flashlight in design. It shines a bright even light at a fair distance and somehow causes whatever weapon is targeting me to target and fire elsewhere. A lot of the action, near the end, takes place at a maze of boathouses, or a lot of boathouses in a large unlikely cluster of some kind. I think that my flashlight-like device scrambles the weapon’s targeting system by somehow making it seem that I am on the opposite end of the beam from where I am holding the device. I perform the routine many times as we move on to various areas. I am not sure who our enemy is. The weapon mostly fires smaller missiles seemingly from a longer distance. I am not even sure if a person is operating it. It is possibly some sort of programmed and automatic setup, but I am also not sure at this point what it was targeting in the first place. Our body heat maybe? But how would it tell us from others? Some sort of unique detailed thermal signature perhaps, or even DNA.

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This is similar in theme to a number of other dreams (since childhood) where it seems as if my dream self is trying to avoid the sunbeams of the light of day (though consequently, whole consciousness as well). In this case it is as if the light of my dawning awareness is trying to escape the real light of day.

Morning of June 17, 2013. Monday.



My dream takes place at an unknown home that I have not seen aspects of in a dream before. It is not up on columns as all the places we have recently lived have been, and it is also made of (painted in a lighter green) concrete blocks for the most part (most of the places we lived recently have been wooden houses). There are more cars and trucks, but in a sparser pattern and along a much busier road than in real life - with four lanes, and in a more commercial area it looks like. There are various items leaning against our house that a member of the public had put there, or perhaps several members of the public. I also even notice one truck pushing against a fence in the back, with the fence at a slight angle. This does not surprise me much at all in my dream, as a lot of people in real life in this region are well-known countrywide for very poor driving and parking skills.

The first thing I do is take a hubcap that someone had leaned against our house and happily and aggressively send it rolling away, as well as into oncoming traffic, although it does not distract any of the drivers. (In real life, just walking a short distance to the store, I often see a fair number of broken plastic hubcaps lying in the streets in various areas and on the sidewalk, but the one in my dream is metal - I even hear the “ringing” sound as I fling it and it rolls into the street.). I also pick up all the other things, including tools and car parts and a small toolbox or two that were touching our house and fling them out and some across the street as well. The drivers do not seem annoyed and nothing lands in their way, which is fine, as I do not want to get into trouble for causing an accident anyway. I am still annoyed by the cars along the curb, all looking as if they had been partly disassembled and had been worked on recently by a mechanic (or I should say, someone who only thinks they have competent mechanic skills).

Eventually, I walk around to the front and I see someone pouring concrete over the ground including near our garden (and probably eventually to cover that area as well), and ask him what he was doing and why no one had said anything to us. I am not angry with him, as he seems like a simpleton, seeming like a far more “sane” version of Curly Howard, but his work uniform seems slightly circus-clown-like (and I keep reminding him of that fact as I am yelling and using the word “you”, but then saying I do not mean “you” but who you work for). He says that all of the people in the neighborhood are getting this done, so ours was being done in addition to the people that actually ordered it (which sounds quite stupid of course) and was, by vote, decided that everyone “must” have it done - even without any notification. The reason is because the concrete will cover everything, including the grass, and supposedly allow for more ventilation and oxygen, which of course makes no sense at all. This last scene may still not be connected to the broken-down cars on the other side of the house other than the larger truck that was pushing on the fence, which I think was a cement-mixing truck.

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Dry cement, gravel, and such, have been validated to be linked to dehydration. In one case, after being in an extreme level of dehydration, I dreamt about having clothes filled with gravel as well as another dream about a dry gravel road. I also have completely given up drinking cola (and soda in general as diet soda is even worse), which can cause serious health risks, even in young people. It took a serious health scare to break my cola-drinking habit.

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Morning of June 16, 2013. Sunday.



In my dream there is part of the house that reminds me of the southern end of my family home in Cubitis though it is meant to be a large wooden house in Australia. I am looking at the plumbing, as there are troubles of some sort, and the pipes are kind of strange. One section that has the most trouble and which actually cracks and falls off looks much like a car muffler but is about four times bigger. There is not much that can be done, as it is mostly ruined, and the resonance chamber of the “muffler” had not been directing the water properly and so that somehow created a problem for the rest of the plumbing. I tell my wife Zsuzsanna it is broken, so either we will move or have to somehow contact the property owner.

Inside, there is a fireplace facing out from the north to the south. In this climate (in reality), we have never needed a fireplace, as it is normally very warm; warm even during the so-called winter.

There are two very large jagged rocks in front of our fireplace. Zsuzsanna and I are not sure why and I begin to get the idea to move them to make more space. Zsuzsanna thinks that would be a good idea, as I mention we could put another cupboard there. The cupboard would be okay to be there as we had never used the fireplace anyway (though in Brisbane, in real life, the larger house we lived in had a fake stupid-looking plastic fireplace built into the wall - which was kind of annoying as it took up a lot of space that could have been used for something sensible). However, it seems ridiculous that these huge lighter gray rocks could be moved even a little, as they look extremely heavy and are about four feet long and two feet high, plus, the jagged edges (to grip or push on) would make them hard to move as well.

I look up the chimney area and notice a paper or something caught on one corner (front-west), but do not learn what it is. At any rate, I end up sliding the rocks (both at the same time somehow, even though they are mostly end to end) to the south part of the room a bit. It turns out that the rocks had been there to cover a large hole in the wooden floor, and underneath is just dusty ground and a few stones. We may put them back or use something more sensible (and flat) to cover that part of the floor.

Morning of June 16, 2013. Sunday.



I had a shorter intimate dream with the setting once again being in Cubitis, the one area near the hallway being fairly close as to how it really was. Zsuzsanna and I are wrapped in blankets on the otherwise hard tiled floor but we are still enjoying ourselves.

In my last dream of this date, I am back on King Street in the L-shaped smaller apartment in the back. I have several paintings up on the main length of the west wall. They are sort of like water-color images and slightly abstract, one of an eagle’s head. My wife Zsuzsanna is talking to someone else about his art, but he seems to be a younger version of me though with ongoing tribal ties and more art skills, perhaps. His work is detailed but more contemporary, almost like panels from a professional-looking comic book. One image shows a happy couple. One seems to be on plain A4 typing paper but that one may be a print. They are making fun of all the racist cartoons and such that stereotype Native Americans as saying “Ugh!”. They each say “Ugh!” about six times, laughing. Apparently, my “younger self” is even going to paint a large picture expressing the “ughness” of “Ugh!” in abstract. Some of it seems to be a response to modern television shows. There is a vague idea that the public would sit and watch a still image “Ugh!” on their television screen for an hour or more without moving.

Another (unknown male) person also speaks, and there are two other unknowns in the room, at least at one point. This other person is talking about how “great” my paintings on the wall are and I feel a bit silly about the attention as his praise seems sincere, yet as he points out each individual line making up the larger image when talking about the eagle head picture, which is composed of mostly blue and lighter purple water-color paint-like lines, but with also a somewhat of a pen-drawing look.

Morning of June 6, 2013. Thursday.



The main scenario in one dream features me being younger (possibly around thirty years of age) and apparently with my own bed lined up from a north wall to the south in a fairly large unfamiliar room. To my right on the west side of this room is a smaller end table with a large vase-like yellowish and greenish lamp with a floral design and with a beige gingham lampshade. Also on the table is a large squarish jar which contains a few dangerously venomous spiders. The jar and the lamp take up most of the tabletop. Three smaller spider monkeys dressed as bellhops in black, red, and shiny gold come in now and then. Because they are “bellhops” I might be inclined to think I am in a small hotel room.

There is a concern that the monkeys had been near the jar and let some of the potentially dangerous spiders out, so at one point I yell at them to leave everything alone, but then I see that the only spiders outside the jar are smaller harmless ones with light brown and white stripes. They are making small webs between the lamp, table, and wall. The ones in the jar are larger and black and look like miniature tarantulas. I puzzle over why I have decided to keep venomous spiders in a jar near my bed but then an old saying is clear in my mind - “Keep your friends close but your enemies closer”. There is no fear or substantial concern when I view the dangerous spiders through the glass jar.

“My” monkeys seem well-behaved and devoted to their tasks and are mostly only around to serve me in cleaning and taking care of potential impositions (such as annoying visitors, by pretending to take them to my room while actually ushering them straight out into busy traffic).

Morning of May 11, 2013. Saturday.



This was an odd but very vivid dream (semi-lucid, becoming fully lucid). It may have resulted from a new type of meditation with affirmations I have been trying for the first time (which always brings unexpected new dreams that are sometimes far from actual intent in meditation the first time around). It goes along the lines of mentally saying “One point one, I am dreaming…”, “this (situation, feeling, or imagery) is in my dream”, “Two point one, I am dreaming…”, and so on, up to “One hundred point one…I am dreaming…” assuming I get that far before entering my dream state. I use “point one” because if I decide to continue with “programs” in this same way, I will have to continue with “point two” and so on, so as not to confuse different desired dream elements and sequences at a later date.

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In my dream, I am in a typical combined building of two bigger places we lived several years ago; the house at Barolin Street in this town, and Stadcor Street in Brisbane. I get out of bed, thinking I am in my dream, and I am, but I soon decide it is too “real” to be a dream, even though it is a fictional composite building I am in. I sometimes wonder how other people can dream of real and undistorted locations, when Zsuzsanna and I often dream of composite locations (two or more) as even when we know the place, there are usually additional rooms or elements from other locations (past, present, and future). Over the past twenty years it often has also been two or more countries (or cities or states) in the same place. This seems normal to me, as dreams are often a “unification” event.

I soon become aware that our youngest son has somehow been duplicated as some sort of random half-formed tulpa, getting energies from an unknown source, perhaps my residual layered hypnagogic constructs set up earlier. He is apparently a vampire. (However, his teeth mostly come out more like that of a rattlesnake than a typical movie vampire). I hold onto him so he does not get away and cause trouble or fool other people, as he is wearing the same clothes as our real son and is becoming less transparent as I hold him. The rest of my family comes in (including our real youngest son) and my wife is amazed, though somewhat wary.

We have to get rid of him and it does not matter how, as he is only an imaginary form and is even annoying to the real version of our son. Eventually, though I am not sure how, he turns into ash (sunlight or fresh air coming in?) which blows away before any threatening drama unfolds. (However, there is no actual fear at any point in my dream. In fact, there is an overall essence of beauty and peace).

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In real life this same morning, Zsuzsanna had told me (after I mentioned my dream) that she was presently reading a book from the library, that I did not know about, in which a vampire has the name of our son as in my dream, which is Oliver, an unlikely name for a vampire (in my opinion).

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Morning of May 2, 2013. Thursday.

My family and I as we are now are living in a composite house which seems to be a mix of my Cubitis home in Florida, my sister Marilyn’s Loomis Street house in Wisconsin, and Gellibrand and Stadcor Streets here in Australia where my wife Zsuzsanna and our children and I have lived. Our house has two storeys like the Loomis Street house. Presently, it seems to be nighttime. I become aware that an unknown man in a car had been looking up at our house towards our second floor for several minutes. He seems to be a suspicious character. However, he turns out to be a pest control professional. He tells us that our house is being eaten by some sort of worm called a “millimau”, which is possibly a distortion of “millipede” (which is what they resemble), and “maw” for mouth. The male shows me pictures of them in a book he brought.

My wife Zsuzsanna is apparently going to take care of the payment for the removal, and a large machine of some sort is left in our house. I am curious, so I push a couple buttons on this unfamiliar machine and it turns out that it is (or serves as) some sort of very large cash register that automatically adds up supposed pest control services. The very long list of costs comes out showing something like $890.00 total. There seem to be three different printers in the device that all print out duplicates copies of the bill on a long receipt, which is like a grocery store receipt. Zsuzsanna seems a little sad and expresses that she feels cheated over it all. The price of printing the three dockets is also added to the bill, including rental of the machine. We are also annoyed as It turns out that our house has no bugs or worms of any kind at all.

Later, the man comes back in with his co-workers to talk about the removal of the millimau, which now seems to be a trick to stealthily rob our house while pretending to get rid of vermin. I clearly say, “Eh, none of that here”. I throw up my right arm, and they fall back, shrink, and merge into a stack of older photographs (mostly of open city areas) sitting on a corner of a box near our kitchen, with some of the photographs flying across the room and going under furniture and appliances, such as our refrigerator, mostly upside-down. Zsuzsanna is concerned about the mess, but we can “stack” the trapped people later but maybe just toss them into our fireplace or hold them over a candle. We become romantic and I make loving comments.

Morning of April 21, 2013. Sunday.



It seems my non-lucid dreams recently are in a trend where they play out like a “cry wolf” scenario. My volcano dream reported last is a good example (which utilized transformations of one feature into another) and there was even an additional humorous implied “cry wolf” plot twist where the actual (potentially dangerous) mudslide could have been the rock tumbler breaking, but no one responded (although there was no negativity or fear).

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In this new dream, I am with friends from different time periods, including school days (possibly because I now interact with them somewhat in a limited way on Facebook).

We are climbing a fairly steep hill, but I do not have any difficulty in doing so. However, I do have concern about how high I am relative to stable standing areas (wondering about the nature of their solidity and possible eroded areas). I also feel that I am getting into better shape (and losing a bit of weight to increase my life span) by doing this.

As we climb fairly high (with no equipment) near a lesser-used park area, I notice a human hand and partial arm sticking out from the ground near some tree roots about ten feet above us, on the diagonal slant to the north. Even though it has probably been there at least several years, it is neither bony nor decayed in any way.

I rapidly descend the steep hill with little effort and go off to a park station to call out about “human remains” (in almost the same way I waved and shouted “volcano”, followed later by “mudslide”, in one of my last dreams). They had not been found for some time, I guess, because that is an area that is not used as much by the public.

When I get back (via easier access from another area to the east, where there is a steep road that can be reached by jeep), my friends had uncovered the rest of the “human remains”, which turn out to be a mannequin in fairly new condition. (However, in my dream, the park ranger refers to it as a “doll-man” instead of a mannequin.)

Taking a closer look at this one again, and the elevated hillside setting (meaning closer to conscious self identity), the “human remains” which turned out to be a mannequin could be a distorted subliminal conscious awareness of my real physical body (as dolls and mannequins typically represent the inactive conscious self in real time).

The usual precognitive element was to a lesser degree in this dream. I had today noted that my oldest daughter’s newer report included the artist John Dollman (late 1800s), and there was also a doll in the reviewed painting. It was about the unknown dangers and concerns of immigration and travel.

Morning of April 8, 2013. Monday.



I am walking through an unfamiliar area near a woods on the edge of a small town. I am with a stranger that reminds me of Harrison Ford, but there are a few other people in the area, including Carol (an older half-sister on my mother’s side).

I notice some jets flying overhead, as well as a small UFO, which looks like some sort of very unusual jet.

I point out the strange maneuvers and flight paths of the aircraft as they turn to one side, go around a tree, and come back again. I cheerfully expect them all to crash and my anticipation and confidence grows that they will. One soon crashes in the far distance, causing an explosion and resulting fire.

The UFO (which I actually suspect to be some sort of small military aircraft) comes very close to us, but there is no threat. It continues just past us, crashing to the ground and sliding slightly. It is not very big, the main section not much bigger than a metal garbage can lid, but it does have small jet-like wings.

I am able to understand that it has a computer chip in a particular location. I walk up to it (it is mostly still in one piece and of course had been unmanned - in fact, too small to carry much weight) and reach down (there is still a bit of fire and smoke near some parts of it), and pull out a computer chip that slides out and is about the size of a stick of gum, although thicker.

We walk to other areas. I am happy I have the chip, but we need to stay away from government or military areas. Somehow, though, we are near Area 51, but it is in an urban area in my dream and thus not really isolated. The UFO conspiracy theorists that try to get in are said to be “missing a week” by other people; something to do with 52 weeks in a year and Area 51, “missing a week” being an expression for a person who believes in aliens and is “not all there”.

Each UFO is a result of the government activity in the region and their controlling of agriculture. The chip I have was made to release harmful chemicals over certain fields to destroy certain crops as well as fertilize and help certain others, thus interfering with the livelihood of certain farmers in the region.

I notice a group of about five military police of various ages who are annoying an innocent family at a farm when I go in, but I remain unsure why the military are present. The family is sitting at a kitchen table not having done anything wrong, and I am aware of the misguided bullying of the MPs. One young man pulls out a matte black gun for no reason and points it at a dark-haired girl. I take out a screwdriver with a partially transparent orange handle (seemingly my weapon of choice in recent dreams) and hit him fairly lightly on the top of the head with the handle, making a strange hollow metallic sound that is almost musical, with a sort of organ-like tonal delay and even a chorus effect in the 440 Hz range. He immediately falls unconscious, sprawled on the floor near the corner of the table by his intended victim.

The other military officers do not even seem to notice and casually go on with their business elsewhere, ignoring their man lying on the floor.

I notice that the lid can be slid back from the chip on one side, and I see that there are tiny smooth and oval radioactive stones of two sizes in an alternating larger stone and smaller stone geometrical pattern in three or four rows. There is more talk on how the government is using UFOs, which are small unmanned jets of a similar shape as the original Romulan Bird-of-Prey design. I had a model of one as a child, having gotten it for Christmas.

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There was minor prescience as is often the case, but relating to something Zsuzsanna had heard. A woman came up to her (a local who has a house full of cats, believing it is her duty to take in every stray). The woman made a comment about how she liked the name Gabrielle (without knowing it was Zsuzsanna’s middle name), mostly in reference to another name that was not really similar. She then made a bizarre comment about the ground being poisoned. I think it was around the same time I was writing this entry.

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Morning of March 15, 2013. Friday.



I am in a sort of drama unrelated to anything in real life or movies I had seen. There is a fight outside between an Asian man and some sort of American or Australian English missionary. There are also two other men with the missionary, who seems to be shot with an arrow through the chest, but he turns out to be alive. The fight is related to the fact that the Asian man had claimed the other man had not rescued his wife from a location she could not leave as he had promised a year or two prior. This turns out to be a Cantonese factory, where she works at a very low wage and can not go home. The man says he will find the other man’s wife (being held in a factory owned by the mother, it seems) and so I leave with the group of three and the Asian man remains in the city area and seems very sad.

We come to a large building (of about four floors high) that has a very large elevator disguised as a main door and facade area that leads into the normal (public) part of the building (about eight times the size as a normal one in real life). It also goes down to a hidden factory area. It has folding retractable stairs that only come out when the hidden area is reached to allow access to the secret factory through an extended hall from where the elevator stops. (The steps are built into the side of the elevator itself.)

It is easy to fit in, because there are people from all nationalities working there. There is a chubby, white American woman of about thirty who seems the most extroverted. One of the “spies” I am with is given a multiple choice test with only one distractor (so the chance of being randomly correct is a full 50%) to see if he can read Cantonese well enough to do his work. It is a small, rough black-and-white drawing of a snake-like dragon (which is always a negative symbol in my dreams that I believed related to either lung cancer or the mother of a bride in the past - the “slaying of the dragon” equating to rescuing a girl from her manipulating mother, which seems to fit this dream theme somewhat - the rescuing of a man’s wife from the “control” of a strict factory setting where the mother is “manager”). The man just randomly picks answer “b” over “a” (both are a total of about seven or eight characters each) and turns out to be correct, but it does contain some of these characters:



Supposedly a play on “DRAG king”, apparently, a woman who dresses as a male or runs a factory as a male(?) - MAN-ager?

The correct one seemed to involve “low-lying” stealth (as a “real” dragon - “lung”) by the mother of the bride with a sort of triple pun involving “drag” (as dragging on the ground from being “low” and being “lowly” in an act of stalking or manipulating someone - I have gotten many intriguing, complex or layered pun-like patterns from dreams of the past I likely would never have thought of consciously).

I am thinking much of the writing (but not all) looks more Korean than Cantonese, but I then notice a muddled mix of Asian languages on some of the other documents. One phrase seems to mean “a hat for my boyfriend”, another, “a collapsible vase for my darling mistress”, which seems odd, since the products are supposedly public-oriented and from a large “secret” factory.

The American lady seems friendly and helpful and does not seem to be there against her will like some of the others may be (I am not certain). I also do not know about the missionary or where the Asian man’s wife might be, perhaps a different area, but that becomes less important in my dream. On a regular basis, our job is simply to put together products from the parts we receive in black satchels of slightly varying sizes. We open them, read instructions, and pass the items down the longer tables along with the satchels (I think with the satchel flat, then the documentation, and the item on top that).

I receive my satchel and open it. In it is a kit that is mostly already put together, along with the related merchandise tags (to sign?) and instructions. It is a very dark blue (almost black) umbrella with two tiers. The top tier can come down to cover the first, more normal part of the umbrella. It seems kind of unusual. To me, it would logically seem that rain could probably go under the top section and leak through the main part (normal main part, but with an opening for the ribs of the top part and some sort of retractable device for the smaller hat-like section to come down and fit more snugly to look more like a normal umbrella). Not much happens after that. There does not seem to be any presence of foremen to watch people work, advise to work faster, or give additional instructions as was expected.

This may relate a bit to real life. It has been ten years or so since we have been able to find a real umbrella that did not fall apart or break upon first usage or so. A lot of stores in the region are known by many as “landfill shops” because of the modern trend in extremely poor quality in almost everything made (even expensive new beds) and how the product should be in a landfill before you even buy it.

This dream turned out to have precognitive elements (although probably a bit more like remote-viewing).

Morning of January 1, 2013. Tuesday.

Reading time: 1 min. Readability score: 63.



It seems to be morning. I am in a setting that mixes my bedroom in Cubitis with our current bedroom. I perceive the Cubitis carport as being to my right (ambiguous mix of north with south). There is also a presence of indoor-outdoor ambiguity.

A paratrooper (as an unknown male of about twenty) has landed in our bedroom. He may have crashed through a wall or ceiling, but I do not think he is injured. I get the impression that I had been sleeping on his parachute, but I also consider he may be mistaking our bed sheet for his parachute even though the suspension lines seem to trail to under where I am lying. I also wonder if his parachute is under our mattress. Zsuzsanna does not wake. I remain annoyed. I feel slight movement when he pulls on the lines. As I start to consider yelling, though I do not have a feeling that he is deliberately intruding, I find I cannot speak, and wake.

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Thread 1: Liminal awareness of being asleep, recall that Zsuzsanna is sleeping to my left.

Thread 2: Vestibular system correlation. Derivation as someone else having fallen.

Thread 3: RAS avatar as VSC personification.

Thread 4: Mix of Cubitis home with present home.

Thread 5: Current conscious self identity extant.

Thread 6: Indoor-outdoor ambiguity.

Thread 7: False directional orientation.

Thread 8: Waking priority to my right.

Thread 9: Possible play on “lines of communication” between the dream self and conscious self or interconsciousness or nuances correlating physicality.

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