Blue_Opossum

Morning of October 31, 2017. Tuesday.



After stepping into my dream, I quickly begin to lose lucidity and memory (though several threads of conscious self identity remain extant). I find myself within a typical dream state induction stage; riding a bus, which is also sometimes a dream state end marker (or waking transition factor) though not in this case, and is unrelated to real life either symbolically or literally (and I have not ridden a bus in years). My wife Zsuzsanna is with me. We are apparently in La Crosse (though Zsuzsanna has never been to America). I am aware that Marilyn (older half-sister on my mother’s side who died in 2014) is living in the Loomis Street house. I “remember” her status as she appeared in the 1980s as if that was the present time.

The bus driver turns down an alley, which is seemingly the Wood Street alley south from Gillette Street. Eventually, I notice it is nighttime even though it was daytime moments previously. I feel an unusual association of my physical body being linked to the movements of the bus. This is because I know and understand that for me, being on a bus is usually an expanded projection of the otherwise fictitious dream body, as well as a distorted subliminal association with my sleeping physical body. A bus is also a coalescence factor in unifying neural energies (in the guise of different dream characters) in real time within the dream state. I know this to be true as I have experienced and validated it thousands of times since early childhood.

The bus goes through half-oval paths in and out of at least three people’s backyards. It is very narrow, but no mishaps occur. The half-oval paths are bordered by a stack of cardboard boxes (of a very similar appearance as in my dream of the 29th, “To the Zoo”, and is therefore a carryover caused by the virtuous circle effect of unconscious dynamics). These paths would not be possible to maneuver and turn in in reality, especially for a bus.

I end up in an area near the Black River, on its east side. There is one unfamiliar cottage present. Two mailmen are walking north and side-by-side to the cottage, but only one is carrying a letter. I see a street sign that names the area as Delores Street, though it is actually not a real street, just a stretch of land near the Black River. I also see that the letter has Delores Street on it, yet I recognize the name above it as a former pen pal of over twenty years ago. (I do not recall the other name, but Delores was the name of an older lady in a wheelchair who I had written to for a time.) I am amazed that this pen pal is now living here. I “knowingly” tell Marilyn, who makes a brief appearance to my right, that, “it took them one and a half years to deliver that letter”. I am aware that it is a letter from me, which of course makes no sense at all. How could it be a letter from me when I did not know she had moved to La Crosse? I am also trying to determine what will happen if she knows I am living here. Many more nuances of this scenario make no sense at all in any context (though bear in mind that my dream self does not consider how wrong or mixed-up the entire scenario is).

Eventually, while I am still a short distance south of the cottage, I see this dark-haired girl of about eighteen years old and wearing only a towel. She is cheerfully walking southerly, passing fairly close to me, yet without seeming to notice me at all. Apparently, she is going to where Marilyn lives. I supposedly live there as well. It is a fictional building south of the cottage (a new and unique location). This makes no sense either, yet I still see her as my formerly much older pen pal who is now somehow much younger. Another way that it makes no sense is that I am fully aware of the Loomis Street address and yet the location Marilyn and I live is a fictional area (even though I am also ambiguously aware that we “still” live on Loomis Street - yet not). Not only that, this girl somehow knows our “new” address. Non-lucid dreams indicate a major cessation of viable memory.

From here, my dream distorts into unrelated events. I am in a large unfamiliar shed or warehouse. I notice a complex block and tackle device through a square opening in the ceiling, although there is an additional ceiling above that one. The device has a block with about eight or nine sheaves (rather than two for a twin sheave) with hard mud and straw between them. Over time, I vividly knock out the sections of dirt and debris with a long stick so that the wheels rotate fully around. There is no backstory to this, but I suspect it relates to teeth hygiene. This takes time and a number of attempts as I watch large sections of dirt and straw loosen and fall from the sheaves.

An unknown female of about thirty years of age appears. We talk about the Internet. I have some older computer technology sitting on a table in the warehouse, which I might be getting rid of. She seems interested in it. I pick up an old modem and she mentions something about Wi-Fi as if she does not want anything to do with it and she asks me if I have it. I tell her that my oldest daughter and oldest son have it but that I use a cable (which amazingly is actually true even though I am in the non-lucid dream state - how strange is that). We go to what seems to be an area in a house (which is not logical as we just turned around and walked a short distance while in the warehouse or shed). I turn the computer on but then “remember” (incorrectly) that this CRT monitor does not come on fully as the top and bottom of the screen is distorted and the picture is horizontally squashed a little. I mention this to the female. She still seems interested in the modem.

From here, I am distracted by two unknown males (though one of whom may be a younger version of our landlord). They are on an unlikely platform high up inside the warehouse. I tell them that I had cleaned the block and tackle and they seem appreciative but I am also apparently going to help them by lifting something up near one end of the warehouse. I notice very small square holes with a white membrane in the ceiling. I successfully and effortlessly lift up (with block and tackle) whatever it is I need to lift up, which I am uncertain of, but which may have been a part of the building to put back into place. There is an unusual scaffold-like area on that side as well (perpendicular to the unlikely narrow platform the men are on) and I do it from an otherwise very unlikely distance from the center of this large building.

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