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Morning of August 6, 2014. Wednesday.



I am in an undefined space (although seemingly aware I am “sleeping” in bed at one point in real time) contemplating a false memory of something I had supposedly just been watching on television earlier, perhaps the news, but I am not focused. There are a few names that come to mind with seemingly “real” associations, which also seems to be ongoing at one point even though I had not been up yet (or even fully awake) this morning.

There seems to be a girl who is gambling relative to an important story, though I am not sure if it is a movie or relative to a documentary about a real person (possibly an actress, though) and for some reason I believe it is February through my distorted ongoing “memory” at a point where I am nearly awake. Over time, I am aware that the girl is quite well known as a supposed gambling celebrity (as if gambling were actually a type of entertainment for the public when either actors, actresses, or lesser known people do it). Her “real” name - that is, the name her parents gave her - is “Rollemtine”, which is a play on gambling (her parents apparently being known gamblers with possible celebrity status) and being born on Valentine’s Day, which does not make as much sense in reality as in the dream world. However, it may be related to fictional “reality television” - a show that just shows people gambling - which basically would not surprise me at all and of course even typical game shows of various themes as far back as the 1950s seem to “fit” at one point.

After “knowing” of Rollemtine, and even being falsely aware that my two youngest sons had just been watching a cartoon featuring her character for whatever reason, I focus on some other distortions, one of them being “Valenstein” - Valenstein, of course, being the name of a monster created on Valentine’s Day or more likely a reference to a fictional neurosurgeon of that time, though that is likely another story and not complete in the false memory.

Using Google, I was surprised to find there actually is an Elliot Valenstein who is “a professor emeritus of psychology and neuroscience”.

Dreams are funny, though I found no reference to “Rollemtine”.

I could have tagged this as postcognitive I guess, but I have decided not to since it is possible I saw the name at one point in the past.

Morning of August 3, 2014. Sunday.



This dream occurred in four main sections but with several other minor scenes. Its first is related to a mysterious small rock with Mayan glyphs (also called Mayan hieroglyphs) supposedly related to alien technology being around during the time that the writing was new. Two students at my old middle school (probably grade eight) talk about the rock and what it could mean. Later, it is studied by my teachers and is going to be used for experiments and to advance one particular student as some sort of “prince” or “king” in mostly a metaphorical sense, it seems. I think this may be the same old “replay” of a real-life event where a fellow student found a “rock” back in fourth grade (which was actually made mostly of concrete) with the “writing from an old Russian newspaper about the Sputnik” being said to be on it. It was actually from an American newspaper with mirrored writing (due to it somehow being transferred into the concrete when it set - I assume, a bit like Silly Putty) but nothing would convince this other student. The only “English” letters “reversed” in Cyrillic (but having a different pronunciation) were the “R” and “N” - yet my classmate really thought it was Russian.

My dream meanders into unrelated events and ideas for the most part, though the rock mostly remains a main element that relates to some sort of supposed “magic” or possibly advanced technology that seems like magic. Another two students are talking about it in front of the middle school and who the person is that the rock supposedly “picked” to be an advanced student of telekinesis and such. I am much younger in my dream (as is often the case) and am somewhat annoyed that people are claiming the rock is special or attributed to things which I know it is not. During this time, I actually seem to be present inside a “movie” or “fictional world” - yet it is a movie of which the “actors” do not know they are actors - almost like a forced “organic replay” where there is minimal free will to manifest a story continuity for an unseen audience by which a few may actually participate (vaguely similar to a “Star Trek” holodeck but much larger; the size of a planet). I watch and listen in on one scene regarding a minor conflict and one male notices me (although in one mode, the viewer is not seen at all even when present and close to a character) but I tell him that I am only there as a spectator - speaking in a manner that I “know” I am dreaming (yet in contrast to this, I am not actually lucid). I casually wave to him and he waves back briefly and absentmindedly with two fingers extended horizontally, leaving the area near the portico’s rectangular column which the group had been near.

From there, I walk into a large room. A boy is trying to make the rock float in the air through some sort of implied telekinetic ability but is not doing that well. This is supposedly the special “chosen” boy to be the student of the implied extinct(?) alien culture. The male teacher of about thirty or younger is patiently guiding him, giving him encouragement and instructions as other students and I think a few members of the public look on. Knowing that mainstream society mostly only has pretense in such things and actually ignores or fears people with any truly unusual abilities, I start to think on a mischievous level. I casually focus on the rock and cause it to float quite high into the air, almost to the ceiling. After this I make a few motions with my right hand and cause the rock to spin and move in a circle quite rapidly (fast enough to cause a breeze inside the building with an implied faux nonthreatening “tornado”), also forming an implied large circle in midair just below the ceiling for several minutes. Even though I am able to do this effortlessly, apparently I am not the “chosen” of the rock - someone without a clue is. In some ways, this annoys me, but in other ways, I am thankful for my anonymity.

The teacher, of course, is frustrated by my antics and does not see it in a way that would logically dictate that I am the one with the abilities and higher potential and not the other boy, but this is not the issue anymore, and is typical of mainstream culture and “herd mentality”, I reason. As such (regarding “herd mentality”) as I leave the room, I “magically” transform (with a fairly effortless mental focus) an industrial floor polisher (the larger ride-on type) into an elephant, deliberately taking my time as it slowly transforms and begins to trumpet as soon as the transition is complete. I can sense the teacher’s aggravation and find it amusing, knowing that many people will find it hard to leave the room upon being blocked by the elephant. (Doing such, I am still not lucid. This seems to have another childhood association where I mentally manipulated a small elephant marionette, from a distance and while invisible, in a school show - the elephant being a representation of the Carol Burnett cleaning lady character.)

Later, I seem to be walking through my sister Marilyn’s old house (she died this year), but it is larger and different. My brother Jim (deceased) is on my left. I apologize for “bringing” him to the location (I am still not lucid, though) but he does not seem to mind and mentions something about having been sleeping for a time, also implying that he had been watching television at one point. Another sister (also deceased) is in the house but goes to the backyard. Somehow we end up coming from the backyard and walking towards the house even though we had just been walking through the house towards the back door (though there is a vague idea that we had actually walked back and around from the south side of the house where there is a sidewalk in reality). Jim then goes up to the landing of a fictional wooden staircase (about seven steps) near a fictional embankment near the back door and somehow slowly slides, seemingly by intent, between the edge of part of the landing (on the left side) and down under the staircase and into the ground, which seems quite unusual in afterthought. My dream loses cohesion after this.

Morning of July 31, 2014. Thursday.



In my dream, I am searching the Google newspaper archive as I had in reality recently and am looking for my birth notice, although at one level, I seem somewhat disembodied (as is fairly common in similar dreams of more of a focus on two-dimensional elements). I look in the Sarasota Herald-Tribune issue from December 20, 1960 (even knowing that it is likely in a newspaper of a day or more later). When I find where it supposedly should be, I see only a black space instead around the upper middle of the page. Oddly, this is supposedly because my mother had cut it out from the newspaper at that time and kept it at the older address in Florida, though I apparently no longer still have it. Logically, this would also indicate that Google staff had scanned the same newspaper that my mother had in 1960, but I do not question any of this extreme unlikelihood in my dream. At one point, there is an athlete portrayed in various stages on a few different pages as trying to jump over all the amorphous features and “random blobs” of each page.

For the most part, though, I am contemplating the irony of the in-dream concept of actually having the newspaper in the past, the clipping being lost, and the scanned newspaper then being online with the missing notice. Worthy of a few giggles in conscious afterthought, I think.

In reality, this scenario is far more problematic. The particular newspaper from the December 20th archive link actually has randomly mixed pages from at least the 19th to the 21st and most of the pages had been scanned in sideways (as well as most of the newspapers in general having scrambled or missing writing and such or big white spidery “splatters” in the middle of a paragraph rendering much content unreadable). Thus, in some ways, my dream made far more sense than how people actually are in their general absentmindedness and overall lack of attention or care.

Morning of July 28, 2014. Monday.



In my dream, my wife Zsuzsanna and children and I are at my (deceased in real life) sister Marilyn’s house in La Crosse. We all seem happy and my dream is mostly uneventful until I see a strange small animal with a somewhat longer body and short light-gray fur. It is running over the floor to get to the far corner from where I am seated in the living room, to where there is apparently a large mouse-hole in the baseboard. The creature, somewhat rodent-like, does not fully look like a real animal at first. However, in my dream, it is “known” to be a type of mole. I am soon able to pick it up and it is about twice the size of a mouse. After a short time, it begins to “vibrate” quite heavily with an intriguingly amplified catlike purring sound that moves through its entire body and seemingly through mine a little. I draw attention to the creature and its tame behavior to everyone else. The details of holding the animal and hearing and feeling the purring from it are extraordinarily vivid and pleasing. I would say it is like a composite of a large mouse and a very small mole with partial catlike behavior, although I think it is somewhat nervous in being picked up and carried around.

Knowing it is not a pet however, I am aware that I probably should let it go soon into the backyard, but am somewhat reluctant to do so. I am not sure that it will be able to survive. I briefly contemplate having it in a cage in the shed but do not take that course of action. Instead, I set it down on the grass near the back door and it scurries westward.

Shortly after this, my brother-in-law Bob finds it and starts poking it with a stick in a larger but shallow recess in the yard that seems as if it may be a nest of some kind. (A very similar thing happened with a very large opossum that found its way into his shed in reality about twenty years ago and I was annoyed by how he was mindlessly jabbing it with a large stick, trying to get it to go in no particular direction each time though it eventually left on its own after he left the shed.)

After a short time though, he stops. He then starts being despondent over his future and how he will have to live somewhere else soon, yet supposedly has no money or way to survive. For some reason he asks about my family’s survival as well, and he remains annoyed by my positivity and optimism. This part is unusual because it reflects the fact that my sister (his wife) had died earlier this year even though she had been alive in my dream a short time prior to this scenario.

The next part is quite strange, because it seems to relate to three “realities” at the same time. My wife and children living or trying to survive without me upon my apparent demise is the first “layer”. My “additional” living with them in a different house (instead of the large Loomis Street house - though my family has never been to America in real life) as another “layer”, and in the last “layer”, I am also living with my brother-in-law in a small apartment. Even though this seems to be a simultaneous three-way “composite of time” (similar to how locations are sometimes oddly trilocated), it is more like three potential branches of the “same” skewed timeline. “Alternate” histories have been in other dreams and seem not that uncommon.

This unusual mole possibly represents my persistence in trying to resolve lifelong mysteries (even long after they had been addressed and partly “solved” on certain mundane levels) by continuously “digging deeper”.

Morning of July 22, 2014. Tuesday.



My dream starts with highly unorthodox fishing. The location seems to be a new composite of our old (and first) home on Gellibrand Street (Clayfield, in Queensland, Australia) mixed with my sister’s old home on Loomis Street (La Crosse, Wisconsin, in America). The main ambiguity of the composite is relative to the porches. There seem to be two couches, both oriented north to south and facing west (assuming the Loomis Street house orientation). One couch is on the porch and the other inside the main room (Loomis Street house living room or Gellibrand Street bedroom), where there are large windows open to the porch in direct view of the other couch.

The couch inside the house is like the one I had in Florida, where the seat lifts up and there is a larger storage area underneath utilizing large boxlike compartments. The fishing, oddly enough, can start when I fill the storage area with water. After a time, when the water fills the bottom and a part of the floor somehow (though not very deep), fish may start to somehow come in from a nearby source, seemingly because they can then swim from some sort of channel or conduit near the house into the area occupied by the couch. As bizarre as that sounds, and as aware that I am, I do not catch on that I am dreaming.

There is a scene where an unknown dark-haired girl in glasses is on the porch. About three monkeys had been on the back of the couch on the porch. I notice that the foam-like stuffing is coming out from at least two large tears over the top of the back of the couch. It looks as if it had been shredded in that area. I realize that the monkeys had been eating the foam. One is still there and eating some of the foam. The girl also eats some of it while standing behind the couch. I call to my brother-in-law Bob to say that the monkey is eating the foam, and the girl thinks I am referring to her when I say “monkey” and expresses both annoyance and amusement. This situation is not resolved, as I just go back to fishing under the other couch in the house.

I watch the water closely and soon notice a fish (which I am aware came through a conduit near the wall or baseboard that connects to a larger body of water somewhere) following my bait in the storage area (as the couch seat is still up), which is a large earthworm I had put on a hook. Even though the water seems shallow, it swims and hooks itself and I catch it. It appears to be a small rock bass. I am also aware of a few other small fish; too small to bother with. After a time, I notice a shadow that seems like a very large fish, although this of course is not logical due to the shallow water. I believe it may be a large snake. I manage to hook it but decide to leave the house, leaving my fishing equipment behind, in case it is venomous.

I go into the kitchen and even though I am not lucid, I have full control of some events. The long, larger blacksnake comes into the room, but my brother-in-law will likely be able to deal with it and get it to go back outside. My sister Marilyn (deceased in reality) is also present. I rise in the air and not only do I have precise control of where I am in the air, I am able to stand “solidly” wherever I want in midair in any area of the room. This control is so precise, it is almost hard for me to believe now, when awake. Of course I get as close to the ceiling as possible in case the snake tries to strike, but mostly I move about in standing position in midair at various heights. Standing in midair does not seem unusual at all.

In the last part of my dream, when the snake has been forced back outside, I eventually go outside and to a small overpass over a large culvert area, which seems similar to the area my son took martial arts classes but larger and more expansive. Looking down, I see a tremendously large lighter brown serpent moving out from under the arced bridge below. Its head alone is about the size of three buses side-by-side. I do not even think about the extreme unlikelihood that a snake could be so impossibly huge and I see it as the “same” snake from earlier. (I am also aware that I had beckoned it somehow with my expectant waiting and readiness to see it, knowing it had likely left the house but just wanting to be sure it had left the house.) I am not really afraid. I am getting ready to inform my relatives about the snake being outside now when a pickup truck drives into and over it somehow. As the truck goes over it at an angle, leaving deep tire tracks on the top of its body, I notice that this huge serpent is seemingly being “destroyed” because it is like very soft mud. A couple more vehicles go over it, leaving deep ruts on its head and back until it is difficult to tell the giant snake from muddy recesses and inclinations.

Over time, the “same” blacksnake from before that had been in the house somehow comes from out of the “mangled” tremendous serpent as if it is still somehow the same snake all this time and it seems unharmed, though slightly sluggish.

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This may relate, on one level, to my digestive system. I have come to learn that, since early childhood, a snake, depending on my dream (and dream type), is often associated with the intestines (due to the shape and the coiling factor). In this particular case, there are other clues, such as the kitchen (place where I eat and drink), the implied conduit (digestive passage), lifting the couch seat up and filling with water (a possible toilet symbol), eating the wrong food (too much sugar or salt) as the foam stuffing from the other couch eaten by the monkeys and unknown girl, and too much monkeying around and needing to “put on glasses” to see more clearly what I am really consuming. Seeing the snake become huge (a bigger digestion problem than usual), but yet return to normal with focus and drive.

A snake, when rendered more realistically, is a main biological RAS waking alert, though does not fully serve that function here. However, I am on a bridge watching it below me. A bridge symbolizes a potential shift in consciousness, so that RAS potential is still a part of my dream’s dynamics.

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Morning of July 21, 2014. Monday.



There was a lot to this long dream, but only a few main points of interest, and there was a lot of distortion. The outstanding feature of this dream involved very long television antennas that were very much like giant “krazy straws” though they were glass-like, colorless, and fully transparent. They were also partly aligned with the house’s original metal antennas (but going much higher). These antennas are on two different houses on Loomis Street, one on the corner and one on the next house southward on the west side of the street (the same block where a sister, now deceased, had lived years ago). They go very high into the sky, possibly three times as long as a normal antenna, but seem fairly sturdy regardless of their convoluted shapes.

At one point, my sister and I are walking south down the alley in that area. There is a concern that the antenna of the corner house may actually fall down. There is no drama or threatening nature in any of the in-dream events, though. There is something about her neighbors cleaning their yard at one point and something about them getting rid of sets of duplicate books, I think. This dream is similar to others where the fence is missing.

Over the last few months or so, the Loomis and Gillette intersection and surrounding area has been oddly recurring, which may relate to my sister’s death, though I have not been there for over twenty years - and she had also been living elsewhere since I moved to Australia. I still think it may also relate to plays on “loom” (weaving or creating) and Gillette relating to something sharp or a play on “close shave” (relating to the avoidance of potential danger).

Morning of July 20, 2014. Sunday.



I believe this dream was partly influenced from recently seeing that awful movie “Dead and Gone” from 2008. Sped-up or similarly manipulated scenes in movies these days are one of the most annoying blights of modern cinema and I cannot understand why people deliberately ruin movies this way. When did “faster” go from being over-the-top comedic (and completely unrealistic as such) to supposedly “scarey”? My dream had also been influenced by a movie from the night before, which was a very mild Korean horror film (“Forbidden Floor” from 2006) which was not all that bad, though it did have a bit of pointlessly irritating sped-up rubbish relating to the “ghost”, but less than the other movie.

My wife and family and I are living in a house that vaguely reminds me of the house on Barolin Street, but is of two storeys. The area is also a bit isolated, with a very large empty lot on at least the north side of the building (but separated by a taller wooden fence). We live downstairs and two unknown older ladies live on the second floor. Over time, the ladies complain about us being too noisy when we had not made any noise at all (and were not even home during one supposed noise-making time period). (This of course, sounds rather odd anyway, as we are the ones living downstairs.) At one point, one of the older ladies moves towards me with her usual in-dream complaining and with hatred in her eyes (looking quite a bit like the several women from “Dead and Gone” - none of whom I could really tell apart very well, which made it hard for me to follow). I am in the larger empty lot at that point, having gone through the gate. I notice that my in-dream weapon of choice, a large silver dumbbell bar, is leaning against the fence on the inside of the large lot, to the right of the gate. I eventually hit her on the head a couple times (she seems somewhat “demonic” by this point) and then dig a large hole to bury her, thankful that I do not have to put up with at least one of the ladies from above from that point.

I go into the house and there are soon apparently visitors, but I do not know who yet or whether or not they are connected with authority. At this point, the female I had killed in my dream, and supposedly buried, somehow becomes a manilla folder of documents, and I stick it between some other documents in the closet to “hide her body” (the closet of which looks much like the large bathroom storage cupboard where we now live but rotated 180 degrees around so that it faces north, and is mostly filled with textbooks and papers. (As such, it also vaguely reminds me of where my mother-in-law had moved from, leaving her place such an utter disaster that it caused her landlord to actually stop being in the rental business).

My wife and I sit down on a couch that faces east though the room seems similar to the Stadcor Street living room now. Our large German Shepherd dog comes in (we do not have a dog in reality) from our left, as well as a large older (unfamiliar) cat. Three smaller dogs (which are somewhat like a cross between darker-colored terriers and chihuahuas) that belonged to the ladies upstairs also come in. We talk about how we can stop these small irritating dogs (that do not even belong to us and are completely unwanted in our residence) from coming in as my dream loses coherence.

Morning of July 19, 2014. Saturday.



My beautiful wife Zsuzsanna and I are living back on Stadcor Street in Brisbane (though with present minor associations). Our house is a bit different but my dream is mostly set in the kitchen. The actors (maintaining insignificant idiosyncrasies from the roles they play) from “Everybody Loves Raymond”; Doris Roberts and Peter Boyle; are my wife’s parents and are visiting us. (I believe the other three main actors are also there at one point but uninvolved in any continuity and in the background.)

A large meatloaf has been made (not sure by whom) and is sitting on a large plate in the middle area of the counter, but it is a “vegetarian meatloaf” (a true oxymoron if I ever heard one) apparently made with only vegetables and soy. It is also fairly high; about four times higher than a typical meatloaf. We are all in the kitchen, seated at a large table, although Zsuzsanna at one point seems to be in a fictional room on the other side of the kitchen (entrance unseen) where there was no additional room in reality other than the outside laundry area. I make a comment about preferring meatloaf with beef. Doris makes a comment while holding her hand up to her chest and talking about a time when beef from a different meatloaf (I think in reference to an unknown restaurant) somehow got stuck in her chest for a time. This part of my dream seems the most vivid and focused though it really does not make much sense and almost feels surreally metaphorical even though I am not lucid.

My wife had been talking to an unknown male on the telephone for a long time (relating to our fictional business or something about transportation). There is ambiguity associated with a payphone being in the back area off the kitchen, next to the back door - on the wall to the right of the door. I am somewhat annoyed by my wife’s “parents” being there and so do not quite feel like myself or wanting to “act like myself”. As a result, I act a bit differently (contrary to my personality) on purpose.

There is another scene where my youngest son plays a television video game or computer game, which creates or utilizes a large screen on the kitchen wall somehow (where there were windows in reality), yet he seems to be playing it in an area in the small hallway which you otherwise would not see that area of the kitchen from directly.

There is also a scene where I feel badly and quite sad about my oldest son not having hair on the back of his head. His skin (especially on the back of his head) seems unusual as well, with larger wrinkles and a sore, aged look (mostly a fictional condition in-dream, though he has had cystic acne for a long time, which one local idiot doctor says was the chicken pox).

I think I know the influence of this one at least in part. The episode of “Everybody Loves Raymond”, season 3 episode 5 (“The Visit”), that I had just seen involved Debra pointing to Marie indicating she wanted her mother to be like her (as my wife’s real mother causes everyone she knows, including neighbors and random business owners and even bus drivers, serious troubles by continuously lying to authority - even setting up fake crime scenes - though this has not been a concern for years at least for us). Also, the main scene may relate to “having a beef” (or complaint).

Morning of June 22, 2014. Sunday.



In the first section of my dream I am at an unfamiliar school, though it does have a semicircular road that goes in and out again, similar to my old middle school, but over a wider area. A boy of about ten and in a car driven by his parents, I assume, is throwing javelins, one after another, through some sort of metal ring attached to a corner of the fence. He is to my left as the car is moving towards me but I am not directly in my dream at this point. He manages to get each javelin perfectly through the ring regardless of the distance from when he first started. This seems quite normal, as he had practiced most of his life to reach this level of accuracy and perfection.

Later, I am in the field on school grounds. I attempt a javelin throw and it just missises going through the center of the ring, only an inch or so from the outer area, slightly to the upper right. The detail of focus is very clear. I try throwing it at what I am looking directly at without intentionally aiming.

In another section of my dream, I am focused on trying to work out something involving letters and numbers. I am writing a book, apparently, on different “hidden” patterns in my life that have always meant something to me, relating to patterns that “flowed” through several layers. At one point, I say to an unknown male how everything in the world must fit into a certain pattern of totality relating to my life’s path. Eventually, I focus on the word “if” which means infinite potential. I reason that “i” is the ninth letter and “f” is the sixth. Therefore, it makes the number 96, which is one of my main numbers in life other than the number twenty-two (as well as eleven). For some reason, I write a supposedly enigmatic sentence relating to the words “is” and “as”. There is something about the word “six” being “xis” in reverse".

I am back in Cubitis in the living room at the large wooden table by the windows to the east that look out into the backyard. My mother is sitting in a chair on the south end of the room closer to the windows. There is something about being in twelfth grade, or doing twelfth grade work when I was in fifth grade. This seems true in-dream.

There is a point at where I am in the bathroom looking at the corner near the ceiling where the walls meet and notice a crack in the concrete along the corner itself and am thinking that maybe I could paint the inside of some rooms. Oddly, I think of how I have lived here in the Cubitis house “all my life”, which seems unusual, but which is not true at all, as I have not lived there since the middle of 1978.

I am later studying the pattern of the band name “The Fixx” - my favorite band for many years. I remember that “FIXX” looks a bit like XXII in reverse - the Roman numerals for number twenty-two. I then reason that it could also represent 696 in that “f”, again, is the sixth letter, “IX” is nine in Roman numerals, and the additional “X” is the twenty-fourth letter (and 2 + 4 = 6). This seems to “fit”. Interestingly though, it could also represent 6966 in a similar way. In which case “f” is six, “i” is the ninth letter, and each “x” being 24 (2 + 4 = 6). My dream focus seems to go around in circles in these layered associations.

Night of June 15, 2014. Sunday.



It is advised that you skip this one if you are the type to get queasy over the words “saliva” or “spit”. You have been warned.

I am in an unfamiliar area in a city, possibly a variation of a part of La Crosse somewhere near Third Street, though it “feels” of east and west orientation. There is someone I do not know who has an owl on her left shoulder and is facing the street. It is possible that it is my sister who died this year - it is not certain - I do not look directly at the person from the front and am on her right side the whole time. It seems to be late morning.

I have some sort of flute (of a golden color but somewhat matte) and am playing a few shorter repetitive melodies and it sounds nice. Eventually, however, there is excess saliva in the instrument which is much more like water that runs out onto the sidewalk, almost going onto the owl but not quite. I am somewhat embarrassed, as there are other people walking around. This happens about three times.

Eventually, my brother-in-law walks out of some sort of business, perhaps a pawn shop, from behind me, to my left. He makes a comment about not having to see someone’s spit (referring to the “water”) on the sidewalk, but is not referring to me, as he thought one of his employees had done it. The person he yells at walks past me, continuing to my right, seemingly to the east.

I ask him if I can help with anything and he points out the curb. I am to fix it up somehow, apparently by removing pieces of grass growing through cracks - and small bits of broken concrete and such. I am not sure, though, but my dream shifts to something quite different. It is something about a classmate (Kenneth W?) going to school for longer hours for some reason. It seems to be the subject of a conversation that is more like telepathy somehow.

I think the flute relates to having heard the “H.R. Pufnstuf” theme a few times recently and having it get “stuck” in my head.

Additional note: Looking back at other dreams that had something unusual or “different” relative to the curb, I believe, for me anyway, that it has something to do with teeth (relative to the whole mouth) and aspects of their present condition, perhaps, as I do have some cavities.

Morning of June 8, 2014. Sunday.



I am in what seems like some sort of composite of the kitchen at Barolin Street (in Australia) and the one in my sister Marilyn’s house (in America). There is at one point a concern that people had thrown out the older originals of dream work, report cards, drawings, and some original school work from my Kindergarten and part of first grade days (prior to my family’s moving to Florida years ago). This is not the major aspect of my dream, though. (In terms of recordings, my brother Leslie had sent me a large box of reel to reel and cassette tapes and paper and picture data transferred to CDs in real life, some even from my other sister’s house in real life.)

There is a strange focus on how my brother-in-law is “gone” though my sister is still alive. In fact, in real life, the opposite is true. At any rate, I decide to have a drink of lime soda. Somehow I end up accidentally pouring it into a bowl of apricots of the kind in syrup from a can. I then try to get some of the juice into a different glass on a bookshelf.

After a time, I end up with three glasses of drink, all mixed in slightly different proportions. My wife wants to drink from one glass but then reports that “it isn’t apricot juice” even though it is only about ten percent lime soda by that point. We end up drinking a bit from transparent glass bowls. I end up drinking most of it and I believe my mother is there in the background.

After I wake up, I end up pouring some of my cola into the wrong cup on the counter, which is kind of amusing but not precognitive in any way, just pure absentmindedness.

Morning of May 29, 2014. Thursday.



It seems to be early evening; not quite sunset. A limousine has stopped under an overpass (almost fully in its shadow except for a small area of the back) on a seemingly lesser-used road or cul-de-sac parking area because of car trouble. An unknown female gets out and stands near the left-hand side of the car. She seems to be about thirty or so and is standing, but leaning against the door a bit, with one leg up a bit (such as when one is putting on or taking off a shoe in public), implying the number four.

A school girl walks by on the left-hand side and says “Hey Annie” in a familiar way (extremely vivid - almost like an actual event), but keeps walking. The other female does not say anything and is probably annoyed by the car stalling. The school girl seems to be carrying some sort of smaller duffel bag over her right shoulder and seems to be wearing a black martial arts outfit with somewhat shiny golden thread making up some inseam patterns. Nothing else happens, but I get the vague sense that there is a fence on the other side of the overpass at ground-level and an abandoned small factory building to the right in that area. This is probably wrong, as it would not make that much sense for the school girl to go there (unless she plans on climbing over the chain-link fence or the area is used as a hang-out) or the other female either, unless the chauffeur had gotten lost or the other female is interested in old abandoned factories.

Morning of May 28, 2014. Wednesday.



There is a long first section to my dream where my wife Zsuzsanna and I are living in my older sister Marilyn’s house on Loomis Street. (She died this year in February.) It seems unusual that we now apparently own her house, especially as this was a rented house in real life and my sister had lived in a different house for some time after I came to Australia (though this erroneous factor occurs continuously in my dreams, as I never saw the house she had moved to after my move to Australia). I am aware of Marilyn at one point but when I look up she moves swiftly “in reverse” back to the kitchen (as if I were rewinding and resetting my dream). I notice a pile of clothes in one bedroom that belong to my brother-in-law (still alive) and my sister.

Later, I am at the front of the house. I have an old bicycle that I will be riding east down Gillette Street. At this point, I feel very good, though I am somewhat concerned about the traffic. However, there are not many cars after a time. I am able to ride the bicycle without incident. After going east down Gillette Street about two blocks, there is a (fictional) bicycle shop to my right. I still feel very good, but I think the bicycle needs to be fixed up a bit. I go into the store and have the bicycle set up near the center of the main large room so that I can work on it. The owner is behind the counter and does not even seem to notice me (until later).

I have a special bottle that resembles a small cylindrical spray-cologne bottle with a light blue tint. The liquid inside it that sprays out as a mist is virtually infinite. This has something to do with “the practice effect” in that the more I use, the more will be available and the more effective. In this case, it is a mist filled with nanobots that automatically clean, repair, and build even as they continue to improve themselves with a more and more efficient design. I spray the mist on rusty spots on the bicycle and over time, more and more of the rust is gone to be replaced by the original chrome surfaces. I spray it on the seat and the black seat takes on a copper sheen and transforms into a different shape.

The bicycle shop owner comes over with an unknown male customer and I say how the seat will now be more comfortable when riding. At this point, a bicycle seat falls onto the floor from a high shelf behind me. I point at it and say, “What a coincidence. I had just mentioned ‘bicycle seat’ and one fell from the shelf”. The other two males appear to be perplexed.

I continue to spray the mist over the bicycle and it becomes more and more newer-looking. I decide to add a headlight. I spray over the front of the bicycle and the invisible nanobots build a very nice-looking chrome headlight. There is a larger rectangular area on the bottom for a brighter light and two small eye-like squares near the top for signal lights. I also create better brakes and go back over the surface. Eventually, the bicycle, though with chrome aspects, also has copper and gold sections. I study the difference between the copper and gold nuances and I am satisfied. I notice several other features of the shop turning copper and gold over time, including parts of the shelves, checkout counter, and so on.

Eventually, the owner seems puzzled by a section of his bicycle shop, which seems to have partially expanded into a clothing store with craft store aspects more to the east. A few sections of elongated clover-shaped copper and gold felt pieces have ended up on the floor. A few other customers are walking around. It is not quite clear what he is looking at. At one point, it looks like two pieces of golden-colored felt sewn partly together with a bit of stuffing coming out. It seems like a propeller for a large stuffed toy airplane.

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This dream borrows from the science-fiction novel “The Practice Effect” by David Brin and additionally uses the typical dream ability of cleaning and improving dream features.

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For new readers or inexperienced dreamers: Something falling off a shelf is precursory symbolism representing getting out of bed, especially as it is a pillow with composite autosymbolism relating to flight. A shelf is autosymbolism that signifies being unconscious, analogous to being in bed. This dream is autosymbolic of the natural vestibular system ambiguity of REM sleep, biologically resulting in associations with falling, flight, or both. Therefore, it has no relationship with waking life or interpretable factors. An airplane is often only an autosymbolic extension of the physical body during the vestibular system ambiguity of REM sleep. Therefore, it is usually unrelated to waking life. In this case, only the propeller as a pillow is present. A pillow is a dream state indicator that represents increased awareness of one’s real environment while still in the dream state and is sometimes precursory of “The Periphery of Lucidity” as in many childhood dreams, and although my dream becomes more and more vivid, apex lucidity does not initiate. Preconscious RAS mediation remains passive here, as a checkout character being autosymbolism for exiting the dream state, likely due to my (subliminal) willingness to wake and harmonious attitude about RAS factors. In my childhood, I typified this common type of dream event as “failed flight waking symbolism”. Use of the word “failed” does not imply a negative connotation as it is a biological dynamic of waking from REM sleep. Therefore, attributing conscious self meaning or waking life meaning is unintelligent. A bicycle is also relevant to vestibular system dynamics, not as dominant as a fully featured airplane. Gold symbolizes a more viable closeness to the conscious self identity while sleeping.

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Night of May 27, 2014. Tuesday.



My wife’s younger sister Judy has come to the house (though she has not been here in real life very often at all). We are all in the main part of the front room. Instead of a sofa, there is a bed oriented east to west. It seems fairly dark in the room, though the television is on giving enough light to see a little.

I am spending most of the in-dream time trying to stop four stacks of magazines from falling to the floor (as well as possibly falling more towards me and getting messed up or spread over the bed). They could possibly be my wife’s craft magazines (which seems most likely, although there may also be one stack of old Warren magazines such as “Vampirella” or “Eerie”). I am partially lying down but have my arm up across the four piles so that they stay relatively balanced on the soft mattress.

As Judy is talking to my wife (Judy on the right facing my wife and closer to the front door), I notice a number of red marks and bruise-like patterns on her face; around her eyes, nose and mouth - very similar to the seemingly fake infomercial that promotes some sort of skin cream, where women have a similar look - but where the “skin problems” seem mostly done by makeup. I recall this in the back of my mind and how “fake” it looks, though I suspect that Judy may actually have some sort of skin problem at this time.

As she talks about her various problems (likely mostly with her mother and how she let her ruin her life), she talks about “going back to Manuel”.

I find this somewhat intriguing as there are at least four ways to look at it - the usual multilayering of authentic dreams over bland conscious constructs passed off as “dreams” - or faded residual memories of a dream where the multiple layers or important “plays” are lost…

One being that Manuel could be her (fictional) old boyfriend, which is my first impression…

Two being that she is talking about “manual control” (rather than being intimate with a man in a relationship),

Three being as opposed to “autopilot” in paying more attention to things as should be the case in her abusive (over many years) situation.

Four in reference to a paperback “instructional” manual (since my dream featured four stacks of magazines) in needing to study one to gain more critical thinking skills and “advice on life” relative to her problems.

It also turned out to have the usual precognitive layer (relative to my own perspective anyway - or a form of postcognition), as the first thing I saw after waking was the line “Former heaviest man Manuel Uribe dies aged 48” as an Internet news headline I had no way of knowing about (which actually only ties in with a news show regarding a different man who was Australian and could not get out of bed).

The “typical” shorter nightly nap dream - several layers of potential meanings or complex associations, and immediately resolved precognition. It is what it is.

Morning of May 25, 2014. Sunday



I have gone to a second-hand bookstore again and then back to my Cubitis home, which actually seems to be in the area where our Barolin Street house was. An unknown male shows me a book which I “remember” having when younger, though this is a false memory. It is something about myth and magic and has a light brown cover with a few panel-like areas that almost remind me of the arrangement of windows on a Windows computer. A couple areas have writing and another has images. Even though I am “certain” I saw and had the book before in my dream, it is not one that I had actually seen at all in reality. There are also aspects of shiny copper on the cover and the pages’ edges. This may be very loosely related to a memory of when I was sitting with my mother on a bench in Arcadia and reading from a humor magazine (I also had the first volume of a set of encyclopedias called “Man, Myth and Magic” that we had gotten in the mail from the post office). I was reading a line aloud (fairly loudly) “…a member of the jet set” when a fairly unkempt male walked by, slouching, with his hands in his pockets. I had hoped the male did not think me to be referring to him as a joke or sarcasm (as I felt my face get hot), but he kept walking. The idea of “jet set” seems to be related to people who fly in the in-dream association with the real event when I was about ten.

This seems to remind me somehow about my own flying ability - as I seem to recall the textbook-style “key points” that are listed in a panel and call-out boxes on the pages’ borders that ask certain things related to the steps you have done. I go outside and do a sort of fast walking and sort of thrust myself upwards and fly with no real effort (in most flying dreams I seem to be jumping into a “cushion of air” that just allows me to go farther, little different than “inverse swimming” - where the water “swims you” - but with less resistance and more control). I go on flying maneuvers several times and eventually go fairly high and go over water. I land near a beach that has a lot of junk along the shore - an area that people had used to dump larger things like bicycles and appliances, some half in the water. Another younger male is there who is interested in flying (I think he had been trying to retrieve a junk bicycle to fix up) and we fly around for a short time before I see a larger gathering of people. I am wondering why other people are not flying to get to their destination more quickly. Even if you have something heavy to move or take with you, it seems that there is no gravity to the object when touching it and beginning to hover and then moving forward - you could probably even move a house (at least the free-standing kind on stilts common to this region) that way, which I explain. My flying position is the same as it is in many other dreams, sort of leaning forwards a bit diagonally, but sometimes in standing position (rather than like Superman).

This dream does not become fully lucid (as with many flying dreams), but it has the usual lifelong in-dream knowledge of how easy it is to rise up and hover, and then fly fairly fast (although sometimes it is more like teleportation). Some of the other people have success in rising and hovering but not flying that much.

Over time, it becomes more of a mystery that people bother to walk around on the ground than it does to just hover or fly, not that it is more difficult to walk, but why walk when you can get somewhere more “smoothly” and more quickly? All of the people are friendly and there is no aggression from anyone to anyone else. In a way, this may be related to my “orb” form, especially in early childhood dreams - where I often had that form in dreams - I guess because flying does not really require legs, or even a body for that matter - and as I noted before, may be related to being carried around as a toddler in longer periods where you did not have to walk to get somewhere.

This is probably another possible interpretation of flying to add to the others I have studied - in a negative sense, flying can mean “not having support” or a viable income at the time (which one dream years ago revealed directly in actual words) but can also relate to “performing well” or a higher level of success. On the other hand, my flying dreams were more often in “orb” form as a child as I “did not need legs” (or so I seemed to directly reason). So again, it is reasonable in my opinion that some flying dreams relate directly to very early childhood, even infancy (and being carried - or pushed in a baby pram - to wherever you need to go).

On the other hand of course, it is still relevant to the fact that “movement of thought does not require legs”, as well as being of a higher level of freedom.