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Morning of December 2, 2014. Tuesday.



I seem to be involved in a required job at WWTI (now WWTC) rather than going to any actual classes (but which still seems relevant to my grades). However, the only people that seem familiar are old high school classmates (instead of former WWTI classmates), including Steve W. (Steve W probably represents an aspect of government in my later dreams, due to the fact I did poster art for his campaigns in middle school, though he appeared in dreams prior to that). There is one point where I look in from outside at the south end of the building and it seems to be some sort of auto mechanics class, but I do not go in and no one notices me. The room is rather messy, with various tools and pieces of metal lying about.

The room I am eventually in to work is supposedly the girl’s bathroom but is huge and also is a laundry area, apparently. No one else is around (other then the one mentioned later). There are at least two large sinks on the north wall with one modern washing machine between them. An old-fashioned washing machine (the kind with rollers) seems to be in disuse and is out into the middle area. Four enclosed bathroom stalls (doors starting about two feet up from the floor) line the east wall with the door to the right of them. There is another rectangular area that breaks off more to the north on that side so that the room is somewhat L-shaped.

I am feeling somewhat annoyed and do not know quite what to do or where to start. I accidentally knock aside two large stacks of towels (about three feet high) of various colors and patterns (which seem more suited for a residence than institutional), which partly fall out from the side of a torn plaid storage bag (the cheap kind we have several of in real life). I then have to spend time putting them back in order, which is difficult, as the bag is split and should probably be duct-taped.

From here, I try to get the modern washing machine to work, and of course, this being a dream (though I am not lucid) that is very unlikely. I attempt to plug in the cord to the outlet and fire shoots out several times (though there is something else plugged in next to the empty socket, perhaps a hairdryer). I then think of using the older washing machine but I do not think all the parts are working and it seems I have to remove debris from inside it anyway. There are also old boxes, carpentry tools, rolled up sections of wallpaper, and other miscellaneous junk in that part of the room.

Only one female (unknown), wearing blue jeans, comes in during this time and remains in the other section of the room. I do not see her face and I am not aware of when she leaves (though she is gone later). I remain aggravated about what I should wash and what I should leave as is. It seems most everything is washed and in order anyway so I am still wondering why I was sent here to work for about an hour or two. I notice the frayed wires on both cords and start to get more annoyed at the fire and buzzing shooting out of the outlets when I attempt to start working. This seems to be even more problematic, as I ponder what will happen when a particular machine is full of water.



In real life, I had been both a student (during two different years and courses - carpentry and machine tool) yet also a maintenance man and cleaner at WWTI (rather ironic, I suppose). My mother had an old-fashioned roller-type washing machine which I sometimes used on my own as a child. I had also worked in maintenance at a middle school, installing new showers and such. The storage bags actually do split easily in real life sometimes. Electrical outlets often do spit fire where I live (including all past addresses), which is apparently not a real issue and never triggers the safety switch (which only ever seems to randomly misfire - turning all our power off for no reason - which happened just recently).

Morning of November 26, 2014. Wednesday.



This is a dream more-so of a theme from several years back regarding the end of the human race and my family and I “moving on” to a better existence. It is typical to where I eventually have full control over my dream (as a “writer” and “director”) for the most part yet am not remotely lucid or even in a more vivid or defined state.

In my vaguer dream state, I am unsettled at the severe lack of intelligence on one dream “interpretation” site. I had actually joined the site recently, but do not plan on being much of an active part of it. One main “interpreter” (with about 20,000 posts) and another with 3,000 posts seem to have never correctly remembered any dreams in their lifetime or even know what dreams are. This is actually far worse than what I read when growing up and not wanting to have anything to do with dream dictionaries and such. Even though I am not aware I am dreaming, I ponder the two bizarre characters on that site and my proportional focus of being entirely “alien” by comparison. (This focus is what eventually builds the main dream itself, I think.)

One of the posters believes that all dreams are functions to wake up a person - sometimes because they are tired (which makes no sense at all - if you are tired you need more sleep or rest not less) - or in many cases, caused by a pain in the neck or arm in a certain position. He continuously claims all dreams are solely for waking you up and never have any meaning at all and that lucid dreaming is not possible. There are around 3,000 posts of this nature - all evidence the “interpreter” has never remembered a dream themselves or know what they are. The posts are so bizarre, I cannot help but have residual “alien” associations. While it is true certain types of dreams are influenced by the environment or physical body or sometimes produce scenarios to deliberately wake someone up, that is certainly not the main cause or purpose of all dreams. The other “interpreter” with the near-20,000 posts interprets almost everything as either “a thief” (and making references to serfs and pages/page boys and many other long-outdated social scenarios as if he is from another century) or “getting a money” - and yet people reference this poster when asking for “interpretations” on that site as if I am still living in the ancient Middle East. It is a strange world still.

Obviously, there are far worse things than the general lack of intelligence and valid information regarding dream work. The overwhelming corruption of authority comes into focus again.

At one point, there is a war between two groups of people. Apparently I actually am an “alien” as it is the “only” explanation for my perspective of society as it is. Oddly, though, other (unfamiliar) people that are seemingly average are also “alien”. There does not seem to be different DNA (other than human) to “explain” this. I am the leader of a group that is moving to a planet that is very close to Earth (which of course would not be possible in reality - planets cannot exist within a short distance of each other). However, before we can be fully free, we need to destroy the infrastructure of Earth so the governments will not corrupt the new planet. Mostly, miniature airplanes (about the size of a person with their arms spread out) that look like Fokkers (from World War I) fly around and destroy everything but without killing people. At times, I seem to be flying over various landscapes seeing what needs to be done. I see people running around in chaos and fear, but again, I do not see anyone being killed (unlike similar dreams of the past).

Over time, I am aware of the American president (Obama) agreeing to meet with two or three people from my group as well as me (it is extremely rare for me to dream of presidents in any context). After this meeting and shaking of hands at a public venue (after most infrastructure has been destroyed), my group and I walk down a sidewalk and begin to prepare to eventually travel to the other planet - and all our clothes change color - for us to elude other people (for example, snipers) who know what we had been wearing at that meeting. Still, I sense betrayal for the most part, and at any rate, we need to “begin again” on the other planet.

I mentally set off a huge atomic bomb of potentially worldwide destruction, or so it seems at first. It is not even that far away from where we are and I can see it towering into the sky in the distance, reminding me of a sunset in some ways. However, the explosion and mushroom cloud is slightly “frozen” yet moving in extremely slow motion. (This being similar to dreams where I control tsunamis to “freeze” their location or reduce their force or “play with their energies” sometimes experiencing ecstasy.) I casually walk along, and eventually decide to also remove the nuclear fallout potential from the event before I bring the event back to normal speed after we get to the other planet - there will still be all the otherwise healthy humans of Earth but without a means to reach us at this point, until they rebuild, I suppose…

Morning of November 25, 2014. Tuesday.



I seem to have the job or at least the temporary responsibility of taking a few bales of hay to at least two locations via tractor, though either it turns out to be several locations or my dream “resets” several times. (I say this because the two men I talk to at each location, other than the last one, seem to be the same people each time even though the setting is seemingly different.)

At the last location, the men seem annoyed and state that they do not need anymore hay because they sold their place and had gotten rid of any animals and were in the act of moving. Apparently I was supposed to have known this. They start to get in their van to drive off. I start to act more annoyed than they are acting and their van ends up with three bales of hay in it (and nothing else) because I say how I am just supposed to be doing what I am doing (because of what someone else told me to do) and so I put it in the van. I then go on my way.

I end up going to a recreational area near a large lake. There seems to be some sort of family reunion or possibly a wedding. As I am driving my tractor over a small bridge mostly intended for walking (I never leave the seat of the tractor at any point in my dream until the very last scenario when it seems to shift into a different theme), I notice a young female (a younger version of my wife whom I do not immediately recognize) being given what I first “understand” to be a couple birthday cards or congratulatory wedding cards. Looking more closely, I see they are miniature tombstones made of plaster of Paris. This does not seem all that strange though I am not sure what it is for.

The large variant group does seem to be there for a wedding. I note the beauty of the lake for a time. At least six picnic tables in fairly close proximity near the shore are all full of people. For a time, I seem to be driving the tractor right over the surface of the water as if I was in a boat though I eventually pilot it back to shore and onto the land again as if there was nothing unusual about the scene. I feel happy and relaxed in doing this.

I notice about eight undressed females near the picnic tables in two areas. They are walking around and standing near the tables. At times, they seem to be wearing partial diaphanous pieces from a wedding dress, mostly only above the waist. It does not dawn on me that they are all identical copies of my wife. The scene itself is somewhat like the park we were married at. It is ambiguous, however, as it also seems like Wisconsin in some ways. I do not even catch that I am dreaming although I do sense a sort of puzzlement over the scene as if some of them are reflections or projections from somewhere else.

I think about approaching one of them, but remember that I have more work to do and do not want to lose my job. I drive up a fairly steep overpass but then quickly glide down the other side as if on a roller coaster. There is no other traffic.

I somehow end up in a different job which is related to some sort of dodgy apprenticeship for some sort of self-help or quasi-religious organization; and wander around at a typically pointless seminar where people sit around listening to someone else talking about the transient opportunities that may work for each member of the audience if they only tried. It is like an auditorium (without much lighting) and I feel a bit energetic and very cheerful. I run up and down the aisles like a child, annoying a few members of the audience. One older male is lying on the floor for some reason, apparently because he believes I may be throwing things at people (though I am not doing anything but running around, enjoying myself, and feeling very light on my feet).

A young female is speaking about how the organization has helped her. She does a “before” and “after” routine where she takes an open company brochure and hides the lower part of her face that has acne saying that this is what she looks like now; no longer having acne. This of course seems rather pointless - so ridiculous as to not even come across with the potential of being deliberately deceptive. Several other people are seated in front of the audience, each telling their faux “success” story in a somewhat tentative fashion. Another person rolls the company brochure into a cylinder over his lap, to show how it has supposedly enhanced his virility. More foolishness. The audience is unmoved.

I mostly do not care about this pointless seminar and end up going back outside to start delivering bales of hay again, mostly in pairs, feeling more cheerful than before at not being a part of the ridiculous group behind the seminar or a part of any organized faux system.

I have not driven a tractor in reality in many years, since I was about twelve years old.

Morning of November 23, 2014. Sunday.



I am walking with my wife (we seem much younger, which is typical) in an unfamiliar area in Australia, but likely not that far from where we presently live. I am aware of the “Enchanted Forest” being nearby. This is a fictional in-dream location that has been a part of my dreams since earliest memory, though the more defined version seems based somewhat on the Enchanted Forest concept from the older Harvey comic books (from the mid to late 60s). This was also where I first learned “my animal” was the opossum at age four (which I originally incorrectly associated with “small foxes in trees”).

Usually, the forest is seemingly in the United States. I usually go in at about a twenty-two degree angle (half of the perfectly diagonal forty-five degree angle) from the west (and off from an otherwise “familiar” public road). There is another section on the south end which does not occur in dreams quite as often.

It is always a very beautiful and “deep” reflective state, somewhat like a “hiding place” but when no hiding place is needed. There are almost always other characters I enjoy taking in with me. In this case, it seems to be reflective of the “Magical Mystery Tour”. There is an idea of what others have believed (in perceived “wrongful ways”) about dreams, though this does not have any residual negative impact on my dream state. I have read that one person on one site believes that dreams are created by someone (or something) other than the dreamer. This writer does not believe in anything “paranormal” (for lack of a better term) such as precognition (or even intuition apparently) or shared dreaming, and yet believes dreams are created by some other entity or being - quite possibly the most ridiculous form of hypocrisy and doubletalk I have ever seen. I am fully aware that I am the dreamer and “creator” here (as with all dreams of this “Enchanted Forest” type), and yet this is not a lucid dream (in that the intense vivid energy of being truly lucid and “fully conscious” in the dream state is not present). In fact, this is a typical non-lucid portal dream, where I am “delivered” into one of several of my most desired dream settings upon the dream first taking cohesive form.

In fact, I have almost always been aware at one level or another that I was creating my own dream (even in non-lucid states) - at least the foundation or primary focus thereof. I have even been fully aware of being the one behind certain chase dreams where I have a memory of instigating the chase scenes for excitement and by which the dream then became “too real”. I have, however, been aware of individual personas or the presence of “something else” which usually only ever occurred with negative dreams or impressions, even when awake but in a state of meditation or stillness. That which is positive, beneficial, or life-oriented has only ever seemed to come from my innermost self in all honesty (only one of many reasons I have never believed in “guides”).

My wife and I walk through winding paths with high grasses on each side, enjoying the scenery and isolation from the public. We seem to be going southwest for the most part, though more westerly. I seem to feel that I know where we are going on one level, though the forest seemingly always has different potential. After a time, I start to see evidence of civilization. However, there has always been an impression that sections of the forest (usually the most central) were not in “this” world.

We emerge into an area that is mostly an open field, with shorter grass and signs of human habitation. There are a few buildings here and there, but quite far apart. I note three places where there is mostly only one larger building. One of the buildings has some sort of sign regarding Victoria. It may be a travel agency. It seems odd that we could have gone that far in such a short time and ended up here, apparently in Victoria. There is a cheerful mood for the most part, but we decide that we should go back rather than leaving the periphery of the trees to look around this isolated habitation or very small town, though the dream is already losing cohesion at that point.

Morning of November 21, 2014. Friday.



The following dream type is, thankfully, not very common to me. It seems to occur in a different area of the mind (or perspective at least) than many other dream types.

Because conscious focus regarding more precise short-term memory is completely lacking in some dream types (along with critical thinking skills), it is inherently frustrating to get “trapped” in a scenario that requires short-term memory cohesion. In this case, it is a too-long dream that becomes more irritating over time and goes on in such a manner until I wake.

My youngest son has a game that is based on some sort of advanced technology - some sort of holographic; yet with actual objects as well; and computer-software-based toy. However, he cannot seem to make it work correctly to get to another level or part of the game. It seems to be like a section that physically opens (like a book) to display a fairly large playing field (like a typical board game that unfolds, but with depth as with a Backgammon kit) or actual smaller objects (such as vehicles and figures).

I have a false in-dream memory that tells me I set a password based on a certain sequence that uses the time, whereby you have to key in a particular password at the exact second (by watching the clock built in to the game). However, there seems to be more to it than that. I believe it is based on at least two other factors. I am trying to recall the nature of how the setup works, but I keep getting muddied short-term memory over the sequence.

I try no less than about twenty times over a fairly long time period, it seems, becoming more and more annoyed that I cannot concentrate well enough. Finally, I see that there is another similar game that has already been opened, but some of the pieces are out of the box. I get everything in order, which entails putting everything in exactly the right locations (before the kit can close properly), including putting some things inside larger things (again, mostly miniature toy vehicles and figures).

Unfortunately, when I shut the playing-field-box, it becomes locked (and my son had wanted to play this due to not being able to open the other one), and a password is required to open it as with the other game. Again and again, I try to time what I am typing with the seconds value in the display, but miss it by a microsecond each time. Because my short-term memory is not working at all, it is futile. Even more futile, the keyed-in password is oddly complex. It consists of typing three letters (after pressing some other keys or buttons elsewhere) and additionally typing in another three letters (which I think is “atc”) while holding another key that represents a wider caret symbol (used like some sort of Alt or Ctrl entry) - the “atc” letters which need to be under the wider caret “roof” in the sequence. It has to be timed so that the seconds value has not changed upon entry.

I am not even sure why the setup is like this. I know the passwords were set by me at an earlier date, but nothing seems to work due to my short-term memory loss and in-dream fatigue.

This type of dream does not seem to have any actual meaning or significance of any kind (other than a possible remote viewing or image-based precognitive potential I would guess), similar to dreams heavily influenced by environmental sounds or physical sensations during sleep; that is, solely a mental process during sleep which you happen to remember.

My dream carries a very similar mood and awareness as certain childhood dreams where I had to keep putting my shoes on over and over again (and sometimes my clothes) even though I had already done it several times, and sometimes going out walking and seeing that my shoes were still not on my feet. This basically seems some sort of “malfunction” in a liminal “cross-linked” sense and may be related to the process responsible for many people not remembering their dreams at all even though it also seems partially relevant to the “practice/reset” type regarding real tasks.

Morning of November 19, 2014. Wednesday.



My family and I are “still” living on Barolin Street in my dream although the front porch seems to be missing relative to the entrance to the house. (I only say that as it seems I can view the front sidewalk entrance directly from the main bedroom’s front window - though dreams often have “exploded views” and altered perspectives, x-ray vision being common as well since earliest memory).

I notice a very attractive dark-haired female of about twenty. She is walking up to our front door. It is seemingly a younger version of my wife, which I do not directly realize in-dream at the time. However, another version of my wife answers the door even though we are wary of such visits. (As funny as this sounds, it is not that uncommon an event in either of our dreams). She is dressed plainly in blue jeans.

The girl is a representative of some sort of political group, as well as the group possibly having the attributes of a charity. It also seems to relate to political campaign funding, however. The group is called BUMP, as she explains it. Even though it is an acronym, I do not quite understand what it represents. It is a group that is against domestic violence, apparently. The word “government” is supposed to be in there somewhere even though there is no “g” in “bump”, but I do not consider this distortion in my dream. I do not make out any other possible words in the group’s name. Not much happens after her spiel. We do not give her any money and my dream fades.

This is the third recent dream (possibly the fourth, which I had not posted at this time) that seems to relate directly to forum posting and activity in a somewhat negative light. Normally, I do not post on forums at all but have recently, but usually remain completely passive even to trolls, with only one exception being the bizarre relentless troll on another dream journal site who continuously constructs agenda-based faux “dreams” to directly troll others (sometimes using their user names, racial backgrounds, dream work beliefs, or their family setup). This connection includes the recent dream where I could control fire (reference to “flaming”), the comic strip one I just posted (seemingly related to “removing” what people say on a forum - or “emptying my head” of their atrocious ideas), and now this one with a reference to “bump” - which relates to bringing a post back up to the top of a forum (and I last saw the term last night).

In my dream, I do not reflect on the irony of B.U.M.P. being against being literally “bumped” in one association.

Looking at this in an entirely different way (or through another layer - as dreams usually have several composite layers), I can also confirm it relates to a type of meditation, whereby my “younger” wife “bumps” (that is, “comes back up to the top”) of her present self with rejuvenating energies in the “maximum well-being” set.

Morning of November 19, 2014. Wednesday.



There is not much clarity in this dream. It involves constructing some sort of xylophone-like musical instrument out of mostly cardboard of at least two different thicknesses. First, it seems vaguely like putting pages of a book together, perhaps a larger board book (of the kind for very young children). The concept involves strips that are attached over a larger rectangular piece. The end of each strip has a square hole and each strip is a slightly different length to supposedly produce a different pitch when tapped, similar to the science experiment (such as in primary school) with the ruler - where you “pluck” the ruler that is held over the edge of a desk.

It does not seem that successful of an endeavor and there are at least two “resets”. One project ends up with the strips being of random lengths along the side, by which the musical scale would then not be in any coherent order. I do not really see this as a symbolic outcome in any significant way, as the reasoning skills of the mind (in typical dream types) do not work during the dream state for the most part. I have rarely seen musical instruments work correctly or realistically in dreams (or anything else for that matter - it is just the way dreams are). This includes the dreams where I was playing a seemingly broken guitar and the sound of an entire band came out of it in a very enjoyable and “perfect” way.

Even though it is not relevant to a xylophone, this may be little more than a play on “reed instrument” vs. “read instrument (book)”. This is because the cardboard pieces remind me vaguely of accordion reeds that I used to work with many years ago. It may relate to finding “music” in the way words are arranged in sentences or perhaps poetry.

Morning of November 15, 2014. Saturday.



An unknown male is present and doing something in our yard farther from our house. However, my wife and I seem to be living in a new variation of my sister’s Loomis Street house. The shed is oriented like the shed of our present home (perpendicular to our back door instead of in line with it as with the Loomis Street house) but our actual house is one house over from the shed (relative to the lot and due north) than it would be in reality. The land area (front, side, and backyards) is unrealistically large for a residential urban area, though my dream also features the alley through Loomis Street, but missing many other features, the houses being much farther away from each other in the neighborhood than in reality (likely reflecting my dislike of living in populated areas).

I investigate and become annoyed that the man seems to be cutting down a very large and old tree which had grown very close to the shed (but without the tree having damaged the shed in any way). However, when I look more closely, I see that the tree is already completely gone and he is trying to fix the eaves by separating a small piece of wood attached near the roof. At first, I think of punching or hurting him somehow, as I feel he is doing damage to our home and invading our privacy (common dream theme). This is all going on to my left. My wife appears and does not like this stranger being near our home. Somehow, I find myself holding five swords of various styles and hand one to the man with a very vague awareness that he may hurt me, though he does not. Instead, he uses the sword to chop away the extraneous piece of wood from the eaves of the shed.

Somehow, the concept of using swords to chop down trees or “chisel” extraneous parts of buildings seems a bit “off” but I do not realize I am dreaming. Swords have seemingly held slightly different meanings, but other than assumed spiritual protection, I think in each case that it is related to severing any residual ties or more prevalent memories with someone relative to family, in this case, a brother-in-law, as the Loomis Street shed is a representation of him for the most part.

This may relate to my frustration of my brother-in-law being illiterate and needing someone to help him (with documents and such) after my sister died (in the USA), which resulted in a lot of my family photos and most of his wife’s (my sister’s) belongings and such being discarded with no consideration for anyone else in the family.

Morning of November 14, 2014. Friday.



I have not had a more direct volcano dream like this in quite some time. It is partly due to having reviewed a childhood volcano dream with new research and notes. It was very long; so long, in fact, it seemed of the type with several partial awakenings (no false awakenings) in between similar or repeating scenes. The location is an ambiguous composite; the front of our house and surrounding area seemed to be mostly the front yard and outside perspective of King Street in La Crosse (with the perpendicular Tenth Street also implied), the inside of the house mostly like Stadcor Street in Brisbane (except closer to ground level and with the porch of our present home), and the back area of the house being of my family home in Cubitis.

Assuming the outside orientation as King Street (as the house composite is too diverse to correctly assign directions), the volcanic threat is several blocks to the east. It is not one volcano, though, but some sort of wide fissure that is volcano-like and nearly world-wide. Over time, more and more lava is nearing our home. I am frustrated over this potential, because many of our possessions will be lost as we need to leave within about an hour or so without having any method of transportation. I “remember” that there are at least four stacks of larger dream journals under one bed near an eastern wall and do not like the prospect of losing them. I rarely dream about dream journals (other than in typical false awakenings where I attempt to write out the previous dream), and this is mostly a later sparse trend.

At one point, my dream goes off on a somewhat comedic tangent. For some reason, because of the “end of the world” scenario, all television shows have to become part of a rushed composite (something to do with only one television studio being left, it seems). Columbo appears at one point as he looked in the early 1980s. Magnum PI had been there as well (and is working with Columbo) but was off to see a different group of people and McCloud had also made an appearance. I make some sort of remark about Hawaii being the only place that will still exist after the volcanic activity eventually ceases, which seems to be where we need to go.

When the lava nears, there is some sort of shallow crevice just east of our house, whereby most of the lava is then flowing into it just in line with that outer wall of the house. This is good, but I still wonder if the back area of the house (which is of Cubitis) has the crevice extended that far (in this case the directional orientation also matches the King Street setting of the composite in the back area being to the south). I get an idea that the lava may actually come through the small high window of the Cubitis bathroom. I am even aware of lava coming through the other areas just prior to stopping, which do result in damaging my journals and other possessions on that side of the house.

Lava is still flowing westward, but more over the streets. Still, it looks as if my family and I need to get on a multicolored Persian rug (about the size of a “magic carpet”) to either use the rug as a raft (not realistically feasible at all of course) or somehow be airlifted. Some sort of small remote-controlled helicopter-like device lands on the rug (I believe, thanks to Columbo). By that point, I am trying to reason out how it is unlikely to use a rug as a raft. Also, the idea of being lifted by a miniature helicopter whereby the rug stays solid or flat somehow does not seem possible. Still, the rug seems raft-like for the most part as we float on the “lava” which is now mostly like harmless red water for the most part. There is a point, however, where my youngest son is on the raft on his own and it “capsizes” but he is okay, as it flips over the second time.

Eventually, everything is suddenly frozen over and I feel the typical physical and emotional bliss when ice and wintry features occur in a dream. Instead of the watery waist-high “lava”, there is now an icy stream with small ice floes moving westward over King Street. My family and I walk westerly on the seemingly undamaged sidewalk. A very “familiar” (but unknown in reality) male is walking towards us and was apparently on his way to check on us (which he openly comments on). He seems to be some sort of legal adviser or business persona but similar to a landlord we had in Brisbane (Stadcor Street). He is very happy to see we are okay. Through some sort of smaller bay window, an unknown woman looks out with somewhat of a strange near-horrified expression as we pass and the friendly male tells her that she is safe. (This female’s expression near my dream’s end, along with the “red water” and the potential of a rug to roll up around a person, was likely borrowed from “The Butterfly Room”, seen the night before.)

I had just written more about the childhood (Paricutin) volcano dream and one possible connection being growth and change and that is the same theme “The Butterfly Room” explores, also linking with the obvious metaphor relative to a female maturing. The childhood volcano dreams are not likely of the same association as the later ones, as I was ignorant of how females matured in that regard. However, this entire scenario could be seen as either incidental or the usual synchronicity regarding my dream work and unexpected upcoming movies I see. It also caused me to reflect on how the movie had no presence of authority of any kind, with my dream being of the opposite comedic nature.

As mentioned in other entries, there are four meanings for volcanoes in my dreams, depending on the nature of the dream; the human heart (the lava being the blood); female maturity (the lava also relating to blood); sexual tension or intensification; and development of something new and unexpected (not necessarily negative).

Morning of November 5, 2014. Wednesday.



This is one of those impersonal dreams where I am seemingly not a part of the dream itself. I am not disembodied - or invisible while in physical form either, just not seen by the other characters (or impressed by them in any way either).

There is a setup for a new (fictional) reality show. Somehow, the people that the focus is on in each episode will supposedly never learn of what had happened regarding the show’s involvement or even that the show exists, which does not seem possible unless the show is only broadcast in certain regions outside of where each featured character lives, but even then, it seems unlikely (of course, this being a dream, such logic is moot).

In the episode in-dream, an older man had been looking for gold in a certain region in a desert for a long time. The idea of the television show is for the producers to give a person what they had been looking for in an indirect way. In this case, the show’s producer pretends that they have found the gold the man was looking for but that it is rightfully his, yet it is all a precise setup.

A ghost town that exists on the side of a mountain near a cliff is rigged so that it will explode and scatter the gold that the producers had placed there. The man is notified after this event. Prior to the next televised scene, I notice that there are also a large amount of collectible comic books as well as valuable stamps in display pages covered by transparent sheets. I am not sure why these are a part of the scene as the older man was apparently only interested in finding his gold, the idea of which he had heard many stories about throughout his life. Although the man had apparently searched the ghost town before, the producers explain that explosions of unknown cause (perhaps old unstable dynamite going off) had somehow caused the gold to be uncovered. The man seems to believe this.

He picks up a piece of gold from many other pieces that are spread all about the landscape in a blast aftermath pattern but he seems disappointed and perhaps thinks it is fool’s gold. It seems to be like pieces of gold foil around white chalk, which comes off easily, like a loose “skin”. However, it is later revealed that the man had asked another source about the value and the gold there is apparently far more valuable than he had thought, even more valuable than “normal” gold. However, it is possible that this was an additional setup by the television producers and the “gold” may not be worth anything. It is even possible that the money the man gets for the (possibly worthless) “gold” is through an arrangement of the television producers rather than a real buyer, all without the man’s knowledge of such.

Somehow, this seems to be some sort of play about how television is not what it seems and provides only false “values” and trickery. From false histories and fake and often impossible scenarios regarding almost every product advertised (and wrongly worded affirmations in PSAs that sometimes project the opposite “message”), it sometimes seems such a waste, it really is like “fool’s gold”.

Morning of November 4, 2014. Tuesday.



I seem to be much younger and living with my mother (who died years ago). The house seems somewhat of a variation of the house in Brisbane on Stadcor Street, though I am not sure of the country or state, perhaps Florida again. It seems she is also watching someone else’s kids, at least two (unfamiliar) girls. Over time, there is a total lack of cohesion in any potential plot or focus. Several dream scenes repeat several times with only a small awareness of repetition while in the dream.

One event relates to having a large bowl of cereal. (The kitchen seems to be where the main bedroom was if assuming the Stadcor Street house and what would be the kitchen is the main bedroom, though not precisely mirrored as is common in some dreams.) I get what I assume is cereal (Wheat Chex or something similar), pour it in a bowl, and then pour milk on it. At first, it seems to be normal cereal. After a time, though, I notice that there are very small pieces of meat (steak), onion, and carrots in the mix. I particularly notice the onion spirals and the distinct flavor within the milk. It seems a bit “wrong” at first, but then I consider that it is just a different type of meal and eat it anyway (especially as I do not want to waste it). (On a side note, eating and actually tasting food such as within this dream is not that common for me. In fact, for me, food dreams are the least common of all.)

At one point, I am making a beverage, which I believe is an atypical mocaccino. For some reason, the drink changes colors from a darker to lighter brown. There is also some sort of flavor packet that puts red particles in the drink (similar to very small flakes of chocolate), which do not dissolve. I get the strong impression that drinking it will give me freckles (which I have never had in real life), which is not necessarily a bad thing. For a very short time, I contemplate looking in the mirror to see if the mocaccino gave me freckles. However, that thought quickly fades and this entire dream scenario repeats at least three more times in the same order.

Morning of November 1, 2014. Saturday.



There were mostly shifting scenes that did not have that much of a relationship to my personal thoughts.

The most unusual one was of being some sort of entity that was “haunting” a museum and getting into a struggle with another being, flying around and such. The battle is not that intense. The museum curator comes out and seems quite annoyed. Apparently there are living quarters in one section of the museum. I feel a bit guilty about any damage that was done in the struggle with the other being. I go to him and somehow materialize several agates from out of the palm of my hand to give to him. I explain how one of them is special, partly made of an unknown compound and supposedly worth millions of dollars. It is white, slightly transparent and with darker blue markings. The other ones are all different from each other as well.

In another scene, I am doing something on an Internet site but it stops working correctly and gives a message about too much traffic. This happens at least twice. Another page comes up and tells me that something is ready to be sent to my system, which is some sort of 3-D printing regarding bookmarks, wall hangings, and pennants with sayings I typed in as well as a few with comedic images. After a time, there are also several windup cars. They look similar to the Japanese plastic models we had years ago but have a more unusual design that makes them look less car-like in body. One seems to have the magnified and exposed “book lungs of a spider” on each side. Apparently you can design anything and have it made via the website although there are templates to choose from and basic guidelines.

For a time, I wind them up and they go through the doorway and through the hall to the other side of the house (which is mostly an unfamiliar location), fairly fast and at a good distance. My two youngest sons seem mildly interested in them. The feelings and focus of winding them up (the windup device being on the bottom and towards the back) seems very realistic and vivid, even the resistance when turning it a few times, as the spiral spring gets tighter.

There is a scene where I am walking through a dark room and something larger seems to fly in my hair a couple times as I swing my arm around, but nothing makes contact with my hand. Later, my wife seems startled by two large geckos on the wall. They are quite large for house geckos though and I am thinking that they are a different sort of lizard. One follows the other with the exact same movements.

In another scene, I go outside to work on my computer near the front of the house yet I do not think it strange for it to be outside set up in an external but inward corner of the house at an L-shaped desk. It is a bit bright outside, and I hear the noise of distant traffic, but this is apparently my actual setup. A jet flies in the sky more to the horizon, making a distorted figure-eight shape with its contrails. There is a vague idea about the potential of it crashing nearby but nothing happens. I have an odd thought about the potential for the world ending and how I would be outside to see it when it happened. It is not a negative thought, just a minor realization. I feel relaxed and well.

Morning of October 20, 2014. Monday.



In my first dream, for some inexplicable reason, a new “MacGyver” television series is produced. Somehow, a younger Carol Burnett (around 40 or so in contrast to her present age of 81) plays MacGyver. After the first episode airs, I read a review in which it is said that she is “too polite” as the new MacGyver. The dream seems fairly long but I do not remember the overall plot of the in-dream show.

My next dream is even more ridiculous. Dean Norris is the only recognizable celebrity in the “movie” although this time it is like a “real” setup on scene, which seems to be the porch of either the Barolin Street house or Loomis Street, or a composite of both and it seems later at night or before dawn. Even though there seems to be a (fictional, likely science-fiction) movie in progress, the people in it are somehow actually miniature, only about four inches tall. I am there watching and so is my wife. I guess we have something to do with the filming. The miniature people have to contend with “giant” cane toads, about five of them in different areas of the porch. There is a dramatic scene where Dean Norris gets hold of a (miniature) gun (taking it from someone else, I think) and shoots most of the “giant” cane toads. The camera zooms in on him when he is in a group of people standing around (in what seems somewhat like a bank queue) with some sort of suspenseful music playing.

Near the end, only four miniature people are left. I watch them walk south over the area where railroad tracks used to be in my Cubitis backyard, there being a lot more shrubs and various larger weeds, other than the somewhat sandy “path” left over from where the tracks mainly sat. This is unusual only in that I normally become fully lucid when I see miniature people, but here, I do not. Looking down, I watch them travel from my left to my right as they waddle along. There is a vague sense of the concept of elves, but they are “ordinary” people other than having been shrunken somehow.

In one other dream, I am trying to read the comic strips in a newspaper, but the paper is transparent so that the comic strips on the other side (of at least two pages) are blended (in reverse imagery) to the ones on the side intended for reading (similar to when you hold a page up against a brighter light) so that the page is an ambiguous composite of normal and mirror-imaged comic strips layered together.

The dream turned out to have the usual trivial short-term precognitive layer (this time relative, as usual, to something regarding precise style, movement, etc. in terms of expectation - why it always seems so obvious and stands out as such makes me wonder what is going on with the rest of humanity in not noticing this in their own lives - particularly as such layers stand out as more defined when looking back with almost every single dream). I have always been interested in the hows and whys, ultimately, especially regarding why the events are often so trivial, although usually reflecting (in a precognitive sense) the “most unusual” aspect of waking life within a particular time. “Normal” humanity baffles me, and this (continuous trivial and impersonal precognition, yet its being so precise) is the main reason why.

Morning of October 20, 2014. Monday.



This dream was a “realistic” continuation (at least in viable meaning and metaphorical form) of a real-life event. I had read the rant of a typical unsuccessful-at-life “normal” person, but more aggressive and “anti-dream-work” than many. This was a post on a web site that listed dream journal sites and such. His rant related to how no one ever mentions dreams in “polite society”, to anyone (including friends and relatives) and how they were only a mish-mash of recent events that the brain had not processed yet that day (typical mindless mainstream opinion, in other words). He also mentioned how paying the slightest attention to dreams (or trying to work out meaning) was “masturbatory” and damaging. Such a person being as utterly “alien” (even more than most other mainstream people) as possible to my own life’s path and continuous vindication since early childhood was rather intriguing but it flowed into a dream scenario that reflected sadness.

I saw the person (even though I did not know anything of his/her appearance) walking along in a similar manner as the Penguin (from the new “Gotham” television series). Eventually though, I become aware that he has transformed (or had “always been”) an unhatched egg. The unhatched egg has a slight crack (as if in an attempt to hatch), and moves slightly, but the movement stops after a short time. I place the egg to my ear and hear white noise, similar to the noise of a television channel being off the station on an analogue television. It then grows silent as if the entity inside has died. It has never bothered me that people live in an entirely different “world” than the reality I have lived in my life’s path but what does give me pause is when someone is so much “against” the viable reality of another relative to the real personal history. Their spirit seems to be both imploding and exploding at the same time, for lack of a better metaphor.

I place the egg on a shelf (about chest-level) in a seemingly forgotten room where many other “artifacts” exist. I am aware that there is a brightly glowing ruby nearby (on a perpendicular shelf to this one) which is an aspect of my wife. There are other items that seem to represent different “species” of otherwise assumed human-like beings, such as a small burned clown mask that represents the dream dictionary reader and a miniature electric fan blowing on a candle that somehow seems to represent reckless drivers. The sadness of the “dead egg” is not that extensive, and I sense that there is a place for everything, including frequencies exactly the opposite in both polarity and direction. In a way, I am infinitely grateful I am a “rare” dream-worker, as it has seemingly put me so far ahead of “other species” (especially in meeting and marrying my beautiful dream girl or “twin flame” in the real world). It is a typical thought in this type of dream, but there is an expectation that some artifacts may change in a millennia, though people may no longer be around to see any changes.

Morning of October 19, 2014. Sunday.



Once again, my family and I are living in Cubitis though the house is different on the inside. I see that the front yard is mostly the same, but when I look out, while apparently resting in bed, I see an older green station wagon (late 60s Ford Torino) parked in the yard, looking a bit in need of a wash, directly facing the house and near the third silver oak. I am wary of this, because I do not know who it might belong to.

Within a short time, it turns out to be a very wealthy celebrity couple, although I presently cannot name him or his wife. He may be Jack Gilford as he was when around age forty, though I get more of a sense of a more serious visage, almost James-Bond-like. They sit down on chairs in our living room. Apparently, it is nearing Christmas and they have brought a gift for my wife because she is supposedly a relative. They do not seem to feel out-of-place in my smaller childhood home. In fact, they comment on how quaint it is in a non-sarcastic manner almost as if they are thinking of getting such a place to live. The package they give to my wife is shiny and blue and I get the impression that it may be a ballroom gown, but she does not open it before I wake. It is fairly large but light-weight.

The very wealthy movie stars do not expect a gift, it seems, and they are making their trip a bit earlier than they normally do from what the man says, continuing south, I believe, before driving back to Hollywood after delivering all their gifts. I am not sure how they are related to my wife (she comes mostly from Hungarian Roma people). In fact, they are not certain either. We even talk about different family surnames as they are leaving, all beginning with “N” and stopping with an idea about the name of a sister’s neighbor from years ago (but altered somewhat) who I did not even know in reality, something like Nigh-gly in pronunciation, possibly a vague play on “nightly” (or a corruption of Nyíregyháza or even Nardia, similar to earlier name variations), though dreams often provide nonsense words and nonsense definitions to real words (as with my “Jacuzis are vampiric monsters” fiasco from years ago - though this is more likely to happen if one does not fully know the real definition and the dream invents an unlikely one).