non-lucid

Morning of October 22, 1977. Saturday.



Steve J, Steve W, and possibly Tina L, and others and I are visiting what is supposedly Chick Corea’s house. There is something very special about the house and it has some sort of “magic” as well as being haunted. This has something to do with the jazz fusion group Return to Forever. We go up a flight up steps which seem to be fairly narrow and along the wall (and with no railing). Later, the area looks much like my boarding house on King Street before I lived there or saw any of the inside and there was a very clear precognitive sense.

There is some minor ambiguity at one point which is related to a book or movie called “Korea’s House”.

There is a point where we are all leaning back against the wall slightly to stop ourselves from going over the other side of the staircase and it also appears I am watching the scene (including seeing myself) from another perspective. We look as if we are slightly distorted from fun-house mirrors. There is also something about lightning (or a bolt of lightning) moving around inside the house as if it was a “pet” of some kind.

There is the idea that someone hanged themselves on a chandelier in one room (which turned out to be related to something the pinhead Leonard S told me later on when I lived on King Street and thus also precognitive, though the story was only his fantasy).

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Last updated in 1980 with regard to the precognitive validation.

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Morning of October 15, 1977. Saturday.



I go out to the chicken shed and notice that our turkens (who naturally have no feathers on their necks as a main feature of the breed), also called Transylvanian naked necks and wrongly (rather stupidly) believed to be a cross between a chicken and a turkey by some as well as of the widely mistaken belief that they do not crow (they actually crow louder and more often than other roosters, just with a lower pitch due to their bigger size). They are also not “rare” in North America as claimed by Wikipedia. They were actually more common than a lot of other exotic breeds in the region we lived in, in Florida in the 1970s. Thus, even a breed of a chicken generates several myths and invalid ideas; tells me all I need to know about people regarding any potential for general credibility.

At any rate, in my dream, the necks of our turkens are very long and serpentine and giving me an eerie feeling that they might become dangerous, even venomous. In another part of the same dream, a pet young black-and-white Polish rooster named “Sluggo”, very similar in appearance to a French mottled Houdan (of which I had a rooster of one called “Fonzie” and his hen “Pinkie”) is not moving as he is facing towards me. After a time, I understand that he is completely flat (front to back, while standing), and perhaps not alive (I am not sure - but being alive in such a form seems worse than not) and feel even more eerie and “out-of-place”. Time passes, and a group of miniature (not bantam, just “shrunken”) various hens are doing the can-can and for some reason, giving me a nightmarish feeling. Some of the small quail we have in a larger cage on the ground in the shed seem to explode, but they are still there afterwards somehow, in sort of blurred patterns with very ruffled feathers. I awake feeling nervous and ill, but am not actually ill a few minutes later.

Morning of October 14, 1977. Friday.

Dream #: 3,952-02. Reading time: 40 sec.



The Fonz from “Happy Days” (the television series) has found the Jekyll and Hyde formula.

It seems to be morning. The Fonz is visible to me through a fictitious window on the east side of our Cubitis home, more to the north end where the chimney area otherwise is in real life. I am watching him from the backyard, from about ten feet away from the back of the house.

He growls, waves his arms, and snaps his fingers angrily, trying to get attention. All the girls outside near the carport run and scream, and soon, none remain. He eventually returns to normal and has a cheerful expression.

I cheerfully say to him, “Hey Fonzie, you snapped your fingers, and all the girls disappeared.“

He giggles childishly, replying “Ain’t that a switch?” (He is implying that girls usually come to him when he snaps his fingers.) The sound of his voice is vivid.

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The key process here is wall mediation. (See "wall mediation explained” in my online dream journal.)

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Morning of October 2, 1977. Sunday.



Pearl Bailey (who shared my mother’s middle name of Mae) lives a few houses north of me in Cubitis on the same side (east) of Highway Seventeen. She seems to almost be like my mother, or perhaps a “replacement” for my deceased mother, though my mother did not die until 2002 in real life (yet on this same date). She tells me about a pterodactyl seen in the area and from there my dream has Hollywood-movie-like aspects. (In the background, there is some sort of association with “won’t you come home, Pearl Bailey”; and there may also be an association with Beetle Bailey.)

I eventually have a long, dramatic battle with the pterodactyl while flying a helicopter. It also seems it is part of a movie we are filming with a real pterodactyl and a possible real risk to me. I am not defeated and actually enjoy this adventurous dream. (In real life, I had a larger plastic model pterodactyl that I used in a trick outside photograph of my father where it looked “life-sized”. It had an interchangeable wing, one of which was implied to be injured/torn.)

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I have tagged this as precognitive due to the interesting coincidence of a different “Bailey” being listed directly before my mother’s obituary in 2002.

A helicopter (as well as a pterodactyl or pteranodon) is a flight symbol, and as such, signifies a real-time subliminal awareness of being in the dream state (and may or may not have an additional meaning), this being a natural association with the consciousness displacement of falling asleep or waking up. In fact, an astounding twenty percent of the tens of thousands of dreams I have documented and studied over fifty years contain flight symbols as such, often being directly linked to the waking prompt for obvious reasons (almost as obvious as the biological-based falling event, which rarely has an “interpretation” and is often solely the incidental precursor to waking).

Morning of September 30, 1967. Saturday.



Regardless of my dream’s setting seeming like a street intersection, there is indoor outdoor ambiguity. (I am unsure if I am inside a large building or outside on an actual street). It seems to be early morning before sunrise. It is dark, but I can discern certain details.

I become aware of what seems to be a Raggedy Ann doll hanging from a noose, though there is some degree of ambiguity where both hanging by the neck and hanging by the waist are considered. I mostly only see the silhouette of the doll itself and the shadow it casts. (My decision that it is hanging by the neck is based on influence from television Westerns such as “Gunsmoke”.)

I eventually get the impression that it is hanging from an overhead traffic light and might be meant to be a street sign. I see its shadow cast upon a wall (which, due to indoor outdoor ambiguity, may be either an external or internal wall). I am also aware of a stop sign in the same general area, but only in octagonal silhouette.

While pondering on why the doll is hanging from a traffic light and who might have put it up there, I slowly wake.

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Appearance of an intersection in a dream is autosymbolism for the neural gating of which occurs during RAS mediation. The indoor outdoor ambiguity validates this as being in the higher region of liminal space (when factors of the real indoor environment including the subliminal perception of really being asleep indoors, not necessarily rendered with bedroom implications, are modulated into the illusory outdoor setting of the dream state).

A doll in a dream is typically autosymbolism for being physically inactive in unconsciousness. Therefore, I can reason that the hanging doll is an emergent consciousness precursor without preconscious personification in this case.

It is the weekend in reality. I have concluded that, since my mother will not be coming in to wake me up earlier for school, the doll represents the emergent conscious factor as remaining passive, which means I can sleep longer or wake (as the intersection symbolizes the choice of), as there is no dominant waking alert factor.

Assuming the doll is hanging by the neck, it would additionally be a possible biological warning relating to incidental sleep apnea (which did not occur in this case), though this condition is extremely rare for me. If by the waist, possibly a warning relating to intestinal stressors (which had not been validated in this case).

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This online dream journal entry was reformatted from the source material, abridged, and clarified on Thursday, 22 February 2018.

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Personal trivia: “The Hanging Doll” was retitled “The Omen” in early 1969. I later changed it back to “The Hanging Doll” in late 1972 to be more descriptive.

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Morning of September 18, 1977. Sunday.



I am standing near the center of my Cubitis bedroom, possibly in late morning. A large owl flies down from the ceiling, as if through the open area with the ruined hanging tile, this feature caused by a leak (though this feature was more to the south side of my ceiling and the ceiling in my dream seems solid), and flies straight at my face. However, there seems no implied threat and no contact or “hit” occurs, as it is just the imagery without the expected impact - and it actually seems to vanish after this. It flies down from the northwest side of my room. It seems it may have somehow passed through the ceiling and thus I get the impression it might have been a ghost.

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This dream was possibly influenced by having heard noises between the roof and ceiling in real life previously, which my mother had said might be a trapped owl. However, the sounds had turned out to be large rats which began to occupy the area (and which did “tightrope routines” in running across the electrical cord from our house to the shed and back) even though we had never had them before in all the years we had lived there. Shortly after, I had both a "pet” owl (which my father rescued from the side of the road after it was attacked by crows in early morning) and a “pet” rat I named Ben, which had somehow gotten into the square hanging cage my Guinea pig had once occupied but at the time was occupied by an unnaturally small black bantam rooster (the smallest I had ever seen or heard of - his crow being a strange mouse-like squeak). The rat had not hurt the tiny rooster, which we put in a different cage.

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Despite this dream having an additional precognitive layer, the native (real-time) meaning is straightforward. An owl symbolizes the circadian rhythms of night and, as a flight symbol, additionally symbolizes being asleep and in the dream state. I am standing near the center of my bedroom (dream sign and subliminal foundation and origin of the dream self) and it flies down apparently through the ceiling (liminal space of the preconscious band). Overall, my dream simply means that the residual essence of the nighttime awareness is coalescing back into my dream self at the waking stage, as it nears morning in reality, making this dream extremely easy to understand the full meaning of.

Morning of September 9, 1977. Friday.



In my dream, I spend most of my time in my backyard in Cubitis where the bonfires are usually set. I find an undamaged jewelry box in the ashes which does not seem familiar (and is not familiar in reality in conscious reflection). (There is a very vague association with “Pandora’s Box”, but that concept does not fully materialize in any way.)

After a time, I learn that a small creature lives in the box that could easily sit on my hand, and in fact does so a few times at different points. The creature is white and fuzzy and has two shorter antenna-like knobs rising from his head - somehow reminding me vaguely of the old-style television “rabbit ears” in function (but not so much in appearance).

He does not seem to be a threat, and in fact, seems fairly timid. I believe he may have magical powers but no major events happen. There is, however, a deep sense of peace in my dream. I do feel that perhaps this “pet” will provide things I will need later on in life.

Update (July 16, 2015. Thursday): After extensive basic research and study of various dreams and time periods, I discovered that this creature was probably influenced by seeing “Josie and the Pussycats in Outer Space“ back in 1972 - which I did not directly realize at all in 1977 (in fact, in checking and validating this dream’s date and any relevant documentation of the time or missing details, I found that the first episode of the show aired on September 9, 1972 and was titled “Where’s Josie?” - Josie likely being a symbol of my red-haired neighbor girl who had moved); more specifically, the alien character Bleep (Melody’s fluffy pet alien). It always greatly pleases me when I am able to find and validate dream-related origins and influences. This was probably primarily based on nostalgia relating to that time period and having less female company on a regular basis (at home) than before in the months leading up to our move back to Wisconsin.

Morning of July 17, 1977. Sunday.



Disney’s cartoon ducks Huey, Dewey, and Louie are all on one unicycle. Each one is on the shoulders of the previous. The duck sitting on the actual unicycle and steering it ends up going off the road after going over a bridge, and landing in the river. The other two blame him.

“This is not my fault,” he says. “It’s a frame-up!”

“What’s a frame?” asks another.

“It’s something that holds a picture.”

“What’s a pitcher?”

“Something that holds wateh (water)!”

“What’s Wateh?”

“Something we’re up to our necks to in!”

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Although this short “adventure” was not much for precognition, it does remind me of a story I heard from someone else later in real life whom had recently also came to Australia. He said he had gone into a restaurant and said “water”. The person behind the counter acted as if they did not understand even when he repeated it. Finally, he said, he slapped his hand down, very loudly and “clearly” saying “WAH-TAH!” and then they understood. I viewed this dream as if floating in front of the scene, which is three-dimensional even though it is like a cartoon.

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Morning of July 3, 1977. Sunday.



I seem to be in another time period, possibly in the distant future (as the buildings look futuristic). It may or may not be Earth. There is a large city; some of the buildings being with dome-like tops, but there are no people around. Apparently, everyone has cleared the streets because of the supposed end of the world soon coming. As the world is supposedly going to end, a very small robot, looking vaguely similar in some ways like R2-D2 from “Star Wars” (except a bit smaller and more squarish) slowly moves down the middle of the wide street - and there is a feeling of terror sensed (not from me, from the unseen people of the world or region). It almost seems amusing to me in afterthought, as this small robot will be the sole cause of the world (or human civilization) to end.

The area in my dream also seems to be bilocated with my Cubitis driveway as the robot approaches our carport from the west.

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Morning of May 12, 1977. Thursday.




In my dream, I am in an unknown and unfamiliar location at some sort of unfamiliar amusement park with a prehistoric theme. The rides seem mainly based on dinosaurs or other prehistoric features. Over time, some of the rides seemingly “come alive”. I go up into one open area and look down at a circular plesiosaurus ride (similar to one of those miniature speedboat rides in a small circular pool setup at a carnival or fair, though elevated about six feet up) where it is now possibly no longer a ride but solely an animal display, because a small (baby?) plesiosaurus is alive and swimming about in the water, though there may be others under the surface (though the water is not that deep). I notice a very strange and strong earthy odor like moss and dirt. The prehistoric creature has a black “oily” partly reflective skin. Some people are looking down into the water and cheerfully finding the sight very enjoyable and a few younger people are throwing fish to it from a white bucket. Perhaps the creatures at this park were cloned or “made” somehow. (About two years earlier in reality, in 1975, the first mammalian embryo had been created by nuclear transfer.) There does not seem to be any danger at this point.

Later though, a dark green tyrannosaurus bends down unexpectedly and I end up in its mouth. However, I am not afraid (but I am very annoyed) and so I hold its mouth open with my arms up and my body in an “X” shape while facing outward from its mouth so that it cannot swallow me. Still, it does seem to be a “real” live one. (This of course is a would-be coalescence event and potential waking trigger but I somehow stop it in my non-lucid state.) I somehow escape or absentmindedly teleport to another setting.

I eventually go back to the water park area with the living plesiosaurus that may only turn out to be a disguised seal to give the public a “show”. This is not certain though, but only a residual focus. This idea, in conscious afterthought, seems illogically mundane (relating to my dream’s events and mood) since I supposedly had been in the mouth of a “real” tyrannosaurus only a short time before.

Morning of April 10, 1977. Sunday.



This was a rather long dream which lasted until late morning. There seemed to be at least two “resets”. One of the main characters in my dream is Roosevelt I (but more adult-like) who is a friend and a classmate. There is a girl with him who may be an adult version of Tina L. The main theme of my dream is that a boat disappeared. It was a small motor yacht with a cabin though Roosevelt and Tina mostly stand atop the cabin. This disappearance had happened, supposedly, a few years prior, I believe - I am not fully certain of my dream’s backstory (possibly because of the “resets”). What had happened was that, when the first boat was going around the winding curve of a river, with each bank covered with very tall trees and other plants so that you could not see through to the other side of the river bend, it never arrived on the other side and was never seen again at the time. There were a few witnesses to this event.

Experiments are conducted in the region that relate to the river’s water and its currents. Roosevelt is doing most of the research. Later, he and Tina are going rather fast down the river. Suddenly, another boat comes around the bend and almost hits them as it is on a direct collision course. At this point, I am fully in my dream and it is very vivid. Although I am on the boat with Roosevelt, I seem to be a non-character. There is no accident, only a sense of awe at the boat returning with the people not seeming to have aged. This turns out to have been the boat that had supposedly vanished years previously. Apparently, there is some sort of time barrier whereby, under certain undetermined conditions, anything that travels through it at “just the right time or speed” shifts into a parallel universe of sorts, or so it seems. Interestingly, in my dream, the events do not seem that much like science-fiction.

Morning of November 26, 1976. Friday.



In my dream, my last one of this morning (the sun already up in reality) it seems to be late morning, perhaps around ten o'clock or later, as my Cubitis bedroom is bright from daylight streaming in through the windows. I am still aware that it is winter. It does not seem that cold to me, though. Though it is Friday morning, I get a sense that it is Saturday morning.

I am in my bed, having seemingly been sleeping and not yet fully awake. My bed (lengthways east to west) is out from the left side of my bedroom’s door - that is, the east inner door to our living room from my room’s viewpoint (in contrast to the door to our carport from my room, on my north wall). I become aware of several bees slowly coming into my room from under the door. They do not sting me or even come near me, and I am only slightly wary of a potential danger. They seem a bit disorganized and very slow, sort of hovering in the air (close to the floor) at times, maybe even a bit sluggish from the cold. (In real life, there is a big enough gap under this door for larger bees to come through from the living room, though this has never been much of a concern).

Although I notice a few more large bees over time (though not unrealistically large), nothing happens. They mostly remain in the area near my door and not much higher than a foot from the floor.

This dream colored my mood in a curious way, not in a negative sense, just of an unusual indescribable elusive awareness. This may be related to my associations regarding my quitting of school (in the first few weeks of tenth grade), as bees used to fly in and out of empty soda cans within a small fenced-in area for placing recyclables near the roofed outdoor lunch area - and thus were sometimes very annoying. However, a few friends and I later spent more time near the outer north wall in the same general area though where no other students went, even though it was just around the corner. Another influence may have related to having seen “The Savage Bees” the previous Monday, which probably combined into a composite association (relating to those afternoons at high school during lunch).

Night of October 29, 1966. Saturday.



I am involved in a seeming prototype (first version of a dream theme that appears in more complex forms later on, especially after moving to a new home) of what appears to be a variation of the (originally) Milton Bradley game “Operation” (which is fairly new at the time). It reminds me just a bit of the “nostalgic” noise and lights of a carnival on a much smaller scale (and according to some sources, actually was based on games in funfairs so maybe that is a typical association). The main distortion is that it has a red telephone (receiver only, but probably only about half the size of a real one) in a recess on the left side, nested on its side though does somehow become full-sized at times. (This may be from a distortion of the actual shapes relative to real game sections, which are somewhat reminiscent of a telephone receiver shape.)

I am not quite sure if the telephone allows you to somehow talk to the character in the game and receive information on his present status, but it seems a bit strange at times as if I am “expecting” an eerie “contact” at one point. No conversations ever ensue, however. My dream remains nonthreatening.

Interestingly enough, I did not live in a home with a telephone until 1978 (we never had a telephone all the years I lived in Florida and only my sister had a telephone in the Rose Street building in Wisconsin).

Late morning of October 17, 1976. Sunday. (There were other versions which played out more like semi-lucid reconstructions, as this dream was more like a very interesting coherent story than is usually the case.)



There apparently is going to be a movie made of a class play regarding issues on pollution and habitat loss. I am to be the main performer in the opening of the film, which will supposedly be distributed to a larger audience. There is a sketchy mascot, a beaver, related to the line, “You too can be an eager beaver and help stop pollution”. The movie is to be made at a city dump which happens to be near a large otherwise clean lake where logging had been done at one time. The mascot drawing is not very good and reminds me somewhat of “Go Go Gophers” and he appears in a concentric oval frame with lines going outward around between the two ovals, with the school logo above that and with the antipollution line under that.

I arrive at the location too early. The season and feeling seem much as in real life regarding the temperature and such. There is an old and worn dingy sofa on a pile of rubbish at the dumping area where I am to sit and converse with the puppet beaver. I wait for awhile in case the camera had already been set up. After a few minutes, the beaver comes up through a hole in the seat of the upholstery, the arm of the controller likely under the cushion or near the back of the couch. I seem to remember most of my lines, most of which are simple questions of which the beaver is supposed to answer. As time passes, I notice how amazingly “real” the beaver puppet appears to be. Not only that, I am aware that the communication from the beaver seems telepathic in nature. I find this a very strange and intriguing “film trick” and wonder how they are doing it - possibly with speakers on each side of my head, but at a distance and in an unnoticeable area, probably hidden.

I look around but I try not to absentmindedly search for the camera that is filming the interaction. Everything is going well and I feel very assertive in my performance. The beaver says its last line and then is gone.

Soon though, I notice a station wagon coming around the curve of the road. A man gets out and sets up a tripod about ten feet from the bank of the lake. There are also at least three of my classmates in the vehicle but I am unsure who. I am now unsure of what is going on. After a time, I feel movement and look down and a very ugly cartoon-like allover orange beaver puppet, which reminds me of the texture and color of my Nerf ball, has emerged from the hole to my right. This beaver puppet has mismatched googly eyes that roll around a bit as it moves and its voice is very annoying; scratchy, squeaky, and slightly muffled. I am not sure what happened to the realistic puppet of minutes before. After the scene is filmed, the puppet “bites” me on the fingers and hand (and I experience realistic discomfort in my fingers) and the unknown male controller is playing around and really annoying me.

I get up and look at the lake and I realize that the first beaver was “real”; that is, an actual living animal that was supposedly “speaking” telepathically, yet no one else had been around at the time. Its head emerges from the lake at a fair distance and nods and I “hear” the phrase “and now you know”.

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I remained intrigued by this dream. The overall plot was very unique and did not reflect anything I had thought of in waking life. At its core, it is doubly-layered autosymbolism for the nature of lucidity, even though I am not viably lucid in this version. A puppet represents both the fictitious nature of the dream self identity (as manipulated by RAS and the preconscious) but also the potential for controlling the dream state as one would a puppet show.

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On a spiritual level, it might also serve as an analogy for everyman, when the general public allows themselves to be controlled by an invalid belief system even when truth has already clearly revealed itself.

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Morning of September 30, 1966. Friday.



In my dream, I somehow find myself back in the forest I used to play in (up in the bluff region) before moving down into town on Rose Street. It seems to be early morning, during sunrise.

In a deeper part of the forest and mainly near a large tree near a cluster of bushes, forming somewhat of an implied semicircular arrangement, I see a pile of life-sized dolls or mannequins which I soon realize are my actual classmates who have been transformed by our teacher Mrs. Yandell. Their arms are freely out and some of them are in pajamas. Somewhat puzzled, I consider whether or not if I am also there somewhere, even though I am fully in-body in my dream self’s perspective. The scene is eerie but no violence is implied. (Our teacher is not present at any point.)

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This dream, like many, is extraordinarily easy to understand. I am seeing my classmates in their static sleeping form, as a doll or mannequin represents being asleep, as well as lesser patterns of active conscious threads within the dream state. This metaphorical meaning also links to dreams representing circadian rhythms in various ways. There are several layers of validation in understanding this but I will keep it simple here. They are in a semicircular pattern deep in the forest. The forest is a deeper level of the dream state or the unconscious realm (as mostly anything away from day to day “civilization” is). I do not recall (or it was not documented) the waking transition of this particular dream. They are “arranged” as such due to (threads of) my conscious self attempting to quantify and “organize” facets of the dream state.

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