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    Blue_Opossum

    Our Mansion with Amazing Amalgamations

    by , 08-10-2019 at 01:12 PM (28 Views)
    Morning of August 10, 2019. Saturday.

    Dream #: 19,227-02. Reading time (optimized): 3 min.



    This online dream journal entry describes and explains chronological segments from instinctual dreaming, that is, dream exploration and control without so-called lucidity. Such dreams share the same processes, often in the same order towards the waking process. Their content mainly stems from modulatory factors of both (precursory) liminal space and enigmatic space with the usual dream state indicators, vestibular system adaptation, and wall mediation.

    My dream is atypical as it provides two porch settings, one for co-occurrence with liminal space, one for enigmatic space. (Usually, one porch serves as both in an amalgam. Because of that, I mostly only use the typification “porch as liminal space” as enigmatic space is tricky to confirm without reasonable evidence.)

    My ongoing dream vivifies with the process of exploring instinctual realization that I am asleep as has occurred every sleep cycle since I was a toddler. I find myself in the Cubitis house (irrelevant since 1978) without my conscious identity. Earl (half-brother on my mother’s side; deceased) is sleeping on the floor in my old bedroom with his head oriented toward the door. It is just light enough to see some detail. I have no recall he had died or any recall of ever having lived in Wisconsin at this point (only this Florida setting). There are stacks of books on the floor. Earl’s head is close to one small pile of about four books as he is on his left side (as I am in reality as sleep simulacra in dreams typically match my sleeping position). I tell him to be careful about one possibly falling on his head. (This is my subliminal directive to remain asleep, as books require wakefulness to read.) I see the moonlight through the south window and consider the beauty of my room.

    Dream processes progress toward liminal space emergence. There is a vague backstory of having human remains in a small sack (a play on being in bed). They represent the essence of my dream self being ephemeral illusory “remains” of my waking life identity. It is still nighttime. Regardless of just having been in the house in Cubitis, Florida, I am now on the front porch of the Barolin Street house in Australia. I recall I had placed the remains in the basement but in the open. I also consider I should check to see if there is enough food in the house. I wonder if Earl will need something to eat or drink soon. I soon see bright light shining up through the floorboards. I consider the basement light is on. Eventually, that area of the porch floor (south side) is missing, and I can look down to see one section of the basement. (Note that there was no basement in any house I have lived in, in Australia.) I realize I need to turn the light off, so the public does not see into our basement or start intruding upon that area.

    I go outside and walk around to the back of the Barolin Street house. Nevertheless, I soon reach the front of the Loomis Street house without a second thought. The porch door is erroneously at the south side instead of the front (east). At this point, enigmatic space emerges to a lesser degree. With ambiguity, I consider there may be people active on the street at the front of the house (even though it was the back of the house seconds ago). After I am on the porch, my perception of physicality intensifies. I vividly feel the hook as I fit it perfectly into the eye latch, oriented on the right. (This act is the most vivid part of my dream.)

    I wander around in the basement. I see various packages of food and consider how much effort was needed to place it in different areas. I see many boxes of cereal and packets of potato chips that are almost empty.

    My focus changes. I start thinking that there are two access points at the front of the house, my illusory thoughts again erroneously contemplating the front of the Barolin Street house. However, to the left would be the outside area of the Stadcor Street house. Instead of a basement wall directly in front of me, it is a garage door that opens into the front yard. I falsely recall this is how someone carried the groceries in.

    From here, I step into the lounge room of our present home (W Street). Zsuzsanna says something to me about needing a flashlight (consciousness).


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