Blue_Opossum

Morning of May 11, 2018. Friday.



There is some sort of situation where an unknown older woman is at our house and demonstrating how an unrecognized cleaning machine works. She is apparently going to sell it. The house is unfamiliar but seems to be implied to have a facet of the Loomis Street house, though mostly unrecognizable as such. The machine looks somewhat like a large floor polisher but also seems to serve as a vacuum cleaner at the same time.

As she goes from a room into another room, I go in to see the condition of the floor. The “floor” at this point is actually loose dirt. I go over to check a bookcase and see that the bottom shelf is slightly blocked off by the height of the dirt floor. I reach down and I am able to take out a book on art. I consider that the floor can be evened out later.

I am then sitting in bed looking at the art book. There is conversation regarding the woman, who is talking to Zsuzsanna, having two of these machines and something about taking one back or both back and later returning with the one we are buying. I am unsure of the cost. One is secondhand and one is new.

The woman looks at my book and me and starts to make negative inferences about people who use paper or have books. This annoys me, so I make an indirect reference that implies that I think she is crazy. I make a comment about “deranged” people who are against people having books, though implying other people that I have heard this about. This makes her angry. I then say, “What about all the people who still get newspapers?” I get the impression that she thinks it is okay to get newspapers (though I remain uncertain) but not okay to have books (possibly because newspapers are recycled). The argument is not that dramatic and is not really like an argument at all. I have my book open to three photographs, one on one page, two on the other. They feature engraved images from Greece, including a light coppery one of Perseus.

There is another unknown person; a male; who may be living in the same house as the woman, who apparently lives directly across the street and stands near the front door for a short time. I get the idea that the woman will be difficult to live in the same neighborhood with and I do not fully trust her concerning the sale of the machine, though I remain mostly cheerful.

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This dream had a vague and ill-defined thread of either prescience or picking up on something around the time it was happening (with no way of me consciously knowing). In real life this morning, an unusual older woman had two mattresses and there was something about taking back a new mattress and leaving the old one in Zsuzsanna’s sister’s house. So although there was a hint of prescience or remote viewing (as is often the case) it was not correctly defined in this case.

There is an aspect of liminal dream control here, as not getting annoyed enough with the RAS modulation (the unknown woman seemingly disapproving of me) did not trigger waking and my dream was extended for perhaps ten minutes, even with the implication of picking out a book to initiate eventual consciousness, though in this case, it was an art book of which I did not see much writing. The dirt floor being higher than the bottom area of the book shelf along one wall correlates with the depth of REM sleep. The cleaning event is common and relates to the glymphatic system, of which is more active in sleeping and dreaming. The unknown male near the front door did not trigger preconscious modulation as it often does, probably because I was already in a bed (liminal awareness of being in the dream state).

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