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    1. Tearing Up a Catwoman Photograph

      by , 12-17-2015 at 06:17 PM
      Morning of December 17, 2015. Thursday.



      In my dream, I am aware of our family as they are now, though our house seems somewhat different, with typically rotated or mirrored features in relationship to other rooms (not rotated or mirrored as a whole). The back story seems to imply that we had been to some sort of carnival earlier in the afternoon or similar type of event related to television shows or movies. There were a few celebrities there. (The event took place a few blocks south of our house.)

      Meanwhile, there is a leak in a small pipe in our bathroom, seemingly from one corner of the room and from the water main - with only clean water (no awful plumbing mishaps as some dreams dictate). At different times, there is more water on the floor than at other times, but it does not seem that problematic or have a potential for a greater degree of flooding throughout other rooms.

      I have a black-and-white photograph of Catwoman (though I am not sure of which actress; possibly any one of several, including at least three from the 1960s). It is mostly a head and shoulders shot, mostly facing forward. It seems autographed on the lower right but I do not attempt to check the name for whatever reason (it may read “Catwoman” in part rather than the actress name). It may in fact be a “new” fictional version of Catwoman (with an unknown or unfamiliar actress), since we apparently had met her and a few other characters at the showgrounds about an hour or so before (though I do not directly recall the event even in my dream).

      After interacting with my family for a short time in our house, I notice that the photograph has a few drops of water near the right side, about halfway down. Carefully wiping it off with my right shirt sleeve, it leaves blank white circular spots on the photograph in a triangular arrangement over the otherwise black Catwoman outfit. This makes me so angry that I slowly but deliberately tear the photograph in half from the side, soon followed by tearing it up completely, saying that it was ruined. I then say how it was a waste of time going to the showgrounds (which is not all that logical, as a photograph does not have to account for time spent, especially if the day was enjoyable during a family outing). Around this time, I notice more water coming out of the pipe and a few puddles on the floor, but there is never a problematic flooding. (The toilet itself is mirrored in the bathroom from south to north in respect to the otherwise seemingly correct orientation to other rooms.)



      If a cat (when it does not represent an actual pet) sometimes symbolizes curiosity, then what would Catwoman represent? Since Zsuzsanna often dressed up as Catwoman when she was young, the act of tearing up the photograph may relate to my awareness that everyman honestly does not have the capacity to either believe or understand our lifelong unexplainable mystery (and there is no indication that humanity will be more aware or intelligent as such in my lifetime to utilize their own connection to the Source), though could also mean that, as my lifelong “mystery girl” was validated, she is no longer a fictional character on paper but my real soulmate.

      Water is the nature of consciousness, sleep, and memory (and ever-flowing “fluid” thought even in sleep), the main metaphorical essence of the dreaming mechanism itself. A leaking pipe may imply the dream state becoming stronger or clearer on some levels (even implying a closeness to Universal Mind) - though when utilizing a negative connotation, could imply problematic memory (as one supposedly has when they get older). However, I tear up the photograph (again, a static image) and so this incarnation of my dream self does not go further into the dream state in a more imaginative or surreal sense as it might have when more clearly focusing on the mystery (in this case, an “exotic” photograph) of the dream state. It stops, in fact, in a familiar environment (and accepts the setting as “real” and present - with only a vague implied back story of the previous showgrounds) where only some energies of deeper levels of the mind are present at some points. Water as memory begins to dissolve (or “whiten”) the static image, which is also a static “memory” at some levels - a balancing or phasing, perhaps - or simply an indication of the dream state itself.



      Thoughts about the failure of product longevity were a previous focus in real life just prior to sleep. For example, my very expensive monitoring headphones that are only about two years old are disintegrating around the headband into what resembles very thin larger ashes. However, more relevant to my dream’s situation, there is also a reflection on how printer ink now vanishes from commercial receipts after a short time, so that now you cannot even keep a receipt as proof of purchase. This seems to at least partly be a vague focus of my dream self at one point.
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    2. Thor’s Missing Clothes

      by , 12-10-2015 at 06:10 PM
      Morning of December 10, 2015. Thursday.



      The first segment of my dream is a vague grocery shopping event of a type I have had since the late 1970s, though in this case, my wife Zsuzsanna and children are known as they are now in reality. Still, the store does not seem familiar, though it is only rendered in my immediate surroundings and “foggy” beyond about eight feet in all directions. Based on the real directional orientation of our bed, it seems I am going easterly through the checkout. I do not notice any other people except for the (unfamiliar) cashier.

      From here, there is some sort of abstract distortion about having action figures all over a bed (dream sign) along with random (human) clothes and accessories for the action figures as well as a few unrelated miscellaneous items. One of the action figures is Thor. Thor is slightly smaller in scale than the other action figures, just enough to notice. Other action figures are Jean Grey, Wolverine, Magneto, Iron Man, and a few others. Jean Grey is actually the largest in scale compared to the others.

      There is some sort of confusion about playing a game with the action figures, which possibly relates to a board game. Thor’s clothes are missing and as such, he might as well be a Ken doll, it seems. I am also annoyed at the disorder of the various toys and game pieces and the apparent difficulty in quickly finding something. However, I eventually find Thor’s outfit (next to the other miscellaneous items and clothes, under my shirt) and am able to interact with my family in the informal game (which seems more like random playing around). I notice that Jean Grey has a large monochrome plastic basket (not that realistic in detail as it seems to resemble a My Little Pet Shop accessory) which seems to have a smaller basket extending from the side (this being oddly like a previous dream where a pot of gold icon had a smaller one right next to it - in the same orientation - on the left from my view). It is empty and may be unrelated to the game. Not much else happens. The setting is not rendered that clearly.
    3. Anti-Hover Brigade

      by , 12-03-2015 at 06:03 PM
      Morning of December 3, 2015. Thursday.



      This dream is of a fairly common focus where I can hover and float about vertically (as if standing though completely relaxed physically). This is sometimes a secondary awareness to other dream events (such as ones with some semblance of plot or circumstance, surreal or mundane, including shopping or just previously walking around). Interestingly, over time, it becomes known that hovering or flying is not legal (though I am not lucid at any point). I get a feeling that I am possibly in the UK (though this is not certain).

      Throughout my dream, I mostly fly vertically (upright), about a foot above the ground, though sometimes lean forward to fly in a diagonal position for shorter periods. Some people seem appreciative of me doing this even though it is not lawful. They find satisfaction in my “rebelliousness” of oppressive authority I suppose. I evade the authorities several times by flying (as they are not allowed to fly even if they have the ability, apparently). It seems odd to me that flying is illegal but then I sense that it probably relates to the prevention of getting in the way of aircraft and drones and such. In fact, I get the impression (though this is not certain) that flying may be legal in some areas if it is authorized and supervised by the government, though that does not seem a common situation.

      I am shot at, but either they always miss or I am somehow bulletproof. At one point, near an odd composite of my past middle school and a shopping mall, I am shot at and a grenade is also thrown at me. I throw it back and watch the colorful “realistic” explosion near the outer wall of the building. Eventually, I join a couple, a young male and female. The male is apparently not fully human; possibly some sort of animal (such as a lemur) and human hybrid, though he looks mostly human. The girl sings to him at one point. They are like me in that they evade authority and “do what comes naturally”.

      From here, I mostly just play around, not causing any fatalities even though I cause explosions and do not like being pursued (though the pursuit has mostly stopped by this point). I watch a “large” silver bus, which seems to be a Greyhound from the 1950s. It moves through an underpass though oddly (based on my full-body presence and perspective) seems only half the size of a real one (though is still fully three-dimensional and with “realistic” movement and momentum otherwise). This is actually typical of my dreams since childhood, where vehicles often seem miniature even though it is otherwise perceived as “normal” (and without me presumed as being a giant). I throw some grenades, which are somewhat like (toy) jacks and are supposedly harmless even though they cause a lot of noise and fire. The bus squeaks to a stop. I am aware that no one is injured but they are probably baffled.

      After this, a similar bus approaches, though this one is about three-quarters the size of a real one. I throw more “grenades”, which make more popping noises and fire, but not as large in contrast to the other smaller bus. The three-quarter-sized people do not seem as much in awe as the other (half-sized people) group. (Jacks as small grenades is somewhat of an unusual idea.)

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    4. Abstract Park and Miniature Dirt Bikes

      by , 11-01-2015 at 05:01 PM
      Morning of November 1, 2015. Sunday.



      I am not sure of the setting of this dream. There is a vague association with Barolin Street, though quite distorted. There is also a park in this dream which is similar to the unfamiliar one of another recent dream (and with a similar theme of imposition by a stranger), though the setting is very distorted; not possible to discern a separation of being indoors or outdoors.

      Firstly, I am ready to do some writing at a table (I mostly use a desk in reality), possibly relating to my dream journal. I go into my large room and see my second-youngest son playing with another (unfamiliar) boy. There is part of a toy racing track under my table which is of a solid two-lane form. There is an additional section near my chair. Somehow, I fall upon it as I sit down (possibly on purpose to express how it is not where it should be) and then apologize though I do not think I broke it. I get the impression that I share the room but that the race track is wrongfully in my part of the room. The clarity and sense of touch is very vivid here.

      From here, our big room is “actually” part of the outside area of an unfamiliar park (still with the sense of being inside and outside at the same time). Looking behind me, I see numerous unfamiliar people walking around (implied south of me). One male is pushing a small dirt bike. Another male is carrying a very small dirt bike across his shoulders. I talk to him about the different sizes and types (though I have zero interest in dirt bike racing in real life) including the miniature ones. I notice he is “also” carrying a boy on his shoulders, which makes the scene ambiguous and distorted - or maybe he was only carrying the boy. He seems irritated by my attitude that the “room” is mine even though I am amazed by the audacity of the others.

      My son becomes annoyed by the imposing public (and the feeling they are “taking over”) and I realize he will be getting rid of his (fictional) large collection of embossed spider stickers, sheets of about five by eight, each showing a different species. This also makes me consider how expensive they were. I do not really want to see them discarded.

      From here, I go into a distorted pretend fight. I stab one of the imposing dirt bike racing participants in the chest, but my knife is not real and simply folds back each time like paper. I do not feel angry at that point and not even all that confused by the fake knife. After this, I notice more dream characters, some with surreal or abstract faces. I pull out a revolver and shoot one of them, soon realizing it was a blank I fired and thus the dream character remains standing; cheerful, but too distracted by his telephone conversation to notice being shot at (the sound only being about a third of the volume of a real blank being fired). More and more random characters gather and my dream fades.



      What I can add now about this is that I had learned motorcycles sometimes relate to life energy (similar to horses and “horsepower”) or in some cases, the underlying energies of the conscious mind within the dream state. Other dreams about miniature motorcycles seem to imply less conscious awareness and control in the dream state even when the dream is otherwise vivid. However, there is still my “Motorcycle Jump” dream where the motorcycle itself was my conscious self in desiring to wake (after sleeping too long) by flying up through a small window. There may be a touch of that in this dream - a need to get on a dirt bike, take control, and “return” to my physical body to wake (especially considering how ambiguous the setting was - possibly a play on the state between waking and dreaming - the “room in the house”/mind and the “real outside”/external energies in this case - together as one presence).

      Updated 05-25-2016 at 07:36 AM by 1390

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    5. Searching for Music

      by , 10-19-2015 at 03:19 PM
      Morning of September 19, 2015. Saturday.



      I am searching for particular versions of a song that seems to be very important. I seem to be searching for information on it as well as supposedly rare recordings. It is the song “Liebestraum”, which I vaguely hear in the background at many points (as if of a dream within a dream). I am not sure why I need all of the rare copies of this music. I hear a beautiful slower orchestral version as well as other versions.

      At one point, I start to think about how it is seemingly in waltz time, which surprises me somewhat in my absentminded reflections. Later, an unknown elderly lady tells me that my pronunciation of “Liebestraum” is incorrect and that it is pronounced like “life a soul”, which I do not question or in fact, even associate with English words for whatever reason. I am also curious about what “Liebestraum” means, though finding the actual music seems a lot more important than the title.

      I manage to find a few less rare recordings of the music. I visit a library-like setting. I reflect on how the various chord-like structures flow throughout the music, seeming perfect in their transitions.

      At one point, there is something about a militant group pretending to be passive and understanding of another group. It seems relevant to perhaps the late 1700s. It seems they pretend to be victims of a war or at least with fake injuries. I think they have the goal to infiltrate the other group eventually, but the concept is not fully clear. One (unknown) male has bandaged arms and the kind group carries him in a stretcher back to their location. However, there is not drama or personal threat at any point.

      I do not remember hearing or playing “Liebestraum” in over thirty years (at least of which I remember). It means “Love Dream”, which I did not seem to know at all in my dream. I know that I did not know the meaning when I played it as a child.


      Tags: music, searching
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    6. Dragon Costume

      by , 09-23-2015 at 03:23 PM
      Morning of September 23, 2015. Wednesday.

      Dream #: 17,810-02. Reading time (optimized): 1 min.



      Two men and a woman are getting ready for a television series about humanoid dragons. It seems as if one of the actors is cannibalistic, and the other two become wary of him. They share an apartment or dressing room. I am present but not involved in the show.

      The scene changes. I am at a post office with Zsuzsanna. I seem to be in my late twenties. I received a package containing a somewhat realistic dragon costume with detailed scale patterns. I open it and go to the opposite side of the unfamiliar building where there is another bench of the same appearance.

      I wear the bottom left side. It is a fancy boot with green scales attached to a pants leg (with green scales) around my waist. I wear part of the top as well (possibly also a mask or part of it). I realize I must have left the right side of the costume behind, so I walk back to retrieve it. Other people are around. I look at my left foot and leg as I walk (with vivid movement and momentum). My right leg and foot are not costumed, but my right boot is fancy, like the gray snakeskin cowboy boots I had years ago. I do not feel embarrassed or out of place in half a costume and mismatched boots even though others notice (but do not react). Each side feels different as I walk (producing different barely audible sounds), but not out of balance. I feel cheerful.


      Updated 11-22-2019 at 08:59 AM by 1390

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    7. The Final Night of Billy Bones

      by , 08-19-2015 at 02:19 PM
      Morning of August 19, 2015. Wednesday.

      Dream #: 17,775-02. Reading time: 1 min 50 sec.



      In my dream, my family and I are living on Barolin Street. However, my Cubitis home’s location (railroad track area only) seems to be a part of the setting later.

      Billy Bones, the child-sized human anatomy model, has issues. It needs to have its bones and organs put back in after having fallen out. (In real life, building this kit requires strength and patience.)

      I begin to consider the fragility of something so expensive, wondering how long it will last. The model falls apart. I decide to get rid of it, though it is too big to put in the bin. I do not want all the separate pieces to get scattered, as I might step on one and hurt my foot.

      It is near nightfall. Billy Bones is now a pile of rubble (rather than bits of plastic and metal). There is also an unexplainable organic substance I do not want to touch. There is a sense of bilocation when the area near the railroad tracks seems to be inside our house. I ambiguously perceive I am indoors and outdoors at the same time, though the setting does not have a clear definition as previously.

      I eventually decide the best place to leave the mess is in the middle of the railroad tracks a short distance from our home. I should bury it under the rocks of the trackbed. At this point, I notice that the pile of rubble has more substantial pieces of Billy again, including much of the rib section, part of the hand, and possibly a kidney. That annoys me, as I thought the mess would be less obvious to associate with a human form (in case someone confuses it with real bones). My dream fades from here.



      Important: Note where my dream self decided to bury Billy Bones in the last scene. Note the play on “bed” (trackbed). Ultimately Billy Bones is this dream’s sleep simulacrum (the subliminal indication of being asleep). Physicality in the dream state is imaginary and incohesive.



      As an added note, I found it amusing when I knew no one would go on to purchase the integumentary system (“skin”) for Billy Bones (by extending their subscription) which had never been advertised up to that point. Zsuzsanna talked to a cashier at the local newsagency, and they told her that everyone in town canceled their Billy Bones subscription when the bones and organs model was complete. After all, with “skin,” the model would look like a cheap plastic mannequin or dummy in contrast to the bones and organs displaying as an anatomy model as advertised. No one likes deception from a company that wants to obtain as much money as they can get, so Billy Bones remains Billy Bones, not Billy Dummy.



    8. Golden Latch

      by , 08-17-2015 at 02:17 PM
      Morning of August 17, 2015. Monday.



      In my dream, I find myself going through some sort of structure, somewhat church-like and fairly large. I do not recognize it as a real setting or composite. For some reason, I focus on the nature of “ordinary” people and puzzle over the functions of their minds, almost as if I am stumped by their potential of understanding something as simple as a half-black and half-white wall. I am trying to work out if typical human beings would understand that half the wall was black and half of it was white, and thus each being fifty percent of the wall. Somehow, I seem to think that this basic, simple realization would not even be accessed by most people and the majority of people would never even begin to understand. I get the impression that hardly anyone would see the wall as half black and half white even though it is, not even in any complex pattern (such as perfectly proportional static), but again a solid half on the left and a solid half on the right. No one would see it as it was.

      I move through the environment and encounter a larger room that seems to be the realm of some sort of demonic entity, though not in any serious context. I have hardly ever dreamt of demons or devils in my life, and even when I have, it was always eventually comic-strip-like. (This does not mean I do not believe in the malevolent essences of certain types of people. Some people’s life purpose seems to be to solely cause trouble for others for whatever reason and to lie as much as possible about everyone else.)

      No human being on Earth could even begin to “explain” one iota of how I have lived for over fifty years as I have. Certainly a “demonic” form would have no clue, either. At any rate, this “demon” I see from his left as he faces perpendicularly from me towards some sort of implied portal. I barely make out a sketched pattern on the white marble floor (which I think has light blue skewed teardrop patterns) that may be some sort of wagon wheel design (I do not think it is a hexagram or anything of that nature).

      There is some sort of distorted plot that I can only basically describe. This more-human essence of what may be jealously and covetousness (and perhaps even static contempt - whereas a person might just as well be white noise in the scheme of things) does not really concern me that much. I had indulged in a long romantic interlude in real life prior to my dream after some “pretend to be human” playing around with my wife, and here this hopeless “demon” is - standing in a very large room, not even facing me, but looking at basically nothing and is actually what he has been apparently doing for centuries. How…boring. Demons, after all, are probably the most boring things in existence (no offense to Hot Stuff the Little Devil, whose dream-like adventures in Harvey comics I greatly enjoyed in my childhood).

      I am puzzled.

      The demon only halfheartedly acknowledges me. “You,” he raspingly says and does not even turn about. He does not seem very assertive and certainly is not threatening.

      I lift my right hand and see a glowing golden latch I am holding for an unknown reason. Oddly, it reminds me somewhat of the piece of the bottom door in my tall metal cupboard from my room in Cubitis (though the difference being it was matte metallic, not golden). I play with the latch for a short time, that is, I move the mechanism about and find it interesting.

      “Even if you take this from me, I will just create another one,” I say, which seems to be an “understanding” at the very core of my being. The “demon” seems only mildly annoyed. I deliberately cause the latch to vanish (even though I am not lucid) and cause an identical one to appear in my right hand almost immediately. (I am not sure where the other one went - possibly onto a door somewhere.) I see that the “demon” (who reminds me somewhat of a shabbily dressed homeless person at this point) also has a latch, but it is rusty and frozen (nonworking).

      The demon reminds me somewhat of those fake screw heads that have appeared on everything from cassette tape cases to radios and children’s toys. What is the point? One can only gawk in bafflement at the audacity of the inherent falseness where no screwdriver on Earth (even a fake one) would hope to “turn” the fake screw head, a hilarious example of mankind’s silliness. Some people are like that. That is, like the fake screw heads on an otherwise feasible cassette, where they look like an impressive screw head on the outside yet do not function at all.

      No drama. My thoughts coalesce into abstract forms.
    9. Fresh Storm

      by , 08-08-2015 at 04:45 PM
      Morning of August 8, 2015. Saturday.



      In my dream, there is a sense of love and joy even though there seems to be a possibility of a storm approaching from the north. My family and I seem to be living on Stadcor Street in Brisbane again. The layout of the house is different and there almost seems to be a loft in the corner near the front door where I am recording, I believe, a half-hour video that relates to some sort of educational session, though I do not fully recall the content. I am only talking smoothly throughout the video. The precision of what I am saying seems to have flowed smoothly thus far for the most part. However, just within the last five minutes of the otherwise perfect video, my (deceased) mother turns on the television in one of the rooms (she has never been to Australia in real life) and the sound is loud enough to be picked up on the video.

      I am somewhat annoyed and illogically believe that I will have to start over from the very beginning (instead of implementing an undetectable edit). I do not show any anger, though. However, for some reason, I now seem to have the need for additional equipment and documents to do what I had just already almost completed.

      From here, I go to the back door as a heavy rain has just started. There is also a fresh strong wind bringing the rain from the north. When I go out to the backyard briefly, I see a gray area and implied heavy rain over Halcyon Street, yet still do not panic.

      I go back inside and notice that, in my computer room, heavy streams of rain are actually now coming through the boards of the ceiling. My first thought is that the equipment I need will probably be too wet to use for awhile, thus my video will be delayed. I am then concerned about all my documents including my dream journals. This is the only room that is leaking thus far. I almost feel a sense of cheerful amusement even though I am not sure if this indicates an apocalyptic event. I am not quite sure if I am dreaming or not. Obviously, closing the windows will not matter at all, as most of the water is coming in through the ceiling. My dream is most vivid at this point, though I start to wake from here. I have had similar dreams (concerning water coming from the ceiling) since I was very young.

      Updated 08-08-2015 at 06:56 PM by 1390

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    10. Yet Another Hathor Dream

      by , 08-04-2015 at 02:04 PM
      Night of August 4, 2015. Tuesday.



      Here I go with a bad habit of a titular trend again (the other being “Not Quite…”). My apologies.

      My wife Zsuzsanna and I are walking through a (unknown) city and enjoying our moments together. I sense an inner glow and realize we are not quite “human” in the sense of being able to blend in with others randomly wandering about in the streets.

      I am walking closer to a group of people when it seems my wife says “I don’t know if we should be doing this”. It is very clear and even resonates as my wife’s voice, yet at the same time, there is sudden micro-amnesia and I cannot remember if I had said it or she did.

      What she meant was that I should not attempt to communicate in any way with ordinary people (or at least the people in the area). A man turns around and looks in our direction. My wife transforms into her human form with an apparent optical illusion as the light above and behind her is actually the sun. The man looks confused for a short time, because the sun had shifted from one side of the sky to the other to match its new implied placement behind us.

      “I read your wife’s lips in the video”, he says somewhat sarcastically. “Your wife was talking about reincarnation.” (What sort of idiot do we have here?) Aha, I get it now. She was talking about the carnations on the table beside her, not reincarnation (in my dream she had actually apparently said “red carnation” which looks like “reincarnation” to a lip reader, I would guess). The mob looks restless.

      I then start to “recall” (via false memory) that my wife is the reincarnation of Pearl Dower. This will not do even though it makes a fair amount of sense through my dream’s hazy state of mind. We need to leave the area before more people arrive. My thoughts become muddled. There is no exact date of death for Pearl that I know of (and another Pearl died who would have been a half-sister before I was born) so I cannot confirm the idea is even feasible in the first place. I am trying to reason it out. It is probably just another annoying puzzle that will not ever go anywhere. Just as I come out of my dream, I clearly hear someone (an older male) shout “Sit down!” as if some sort of echo from a meeting, perhaps seconds previously, or very long ago.

    11. Technological Enigma

      by , 07-23-2015 at 01:23 PM
      Morning of July 23, 2015. Thursday.



      I am sitting at my computer desk as in real life though the room is mirrored longways (so that the open area of the room is to my left rather than to my right where the end of the desk is now against the opposite wall; however, the rest of the house, though I cannot see it, “feels” the same, as my oldest daughter’s room still, in in-dream “memory”, is to my left on the other side of the east wall). The room is mostly dark as I do not have a light on, and I assume it is nighttime.

      The more I type with my keyboard (though I cannot recall the nature of what I am writing, though I am fairly certain it involved in-dream affirmations), the brighter it gets, until it is just a “slab of white light” (originally though with a bluish glow). Even though I had not been looking at my fingers, I am somewhat annoyed as it eventually seems too smooth to tap keys correctly.

      Not only that, the computer monitor (the old large squarish type I still use that is about the length of my forearm) becomes black and blank and I cannot see what I am typing on the screen either. It almost reminds me of a large cloaked head (though not quite ominous).

      How do people cope with this nonsense? (This is what I am thinking for a time.)
    12. An Old Book and Glowing Skin

      by , 07-21-2015 at 11:28 AM
      Morning of July 21, 2015. Tuesday.



      I am semi-lucid but do not rise to full lucidity and just let my dream render the settings and circumstances automatically (without any previous scripting). I first find myself with my wife and three youngest children, as they seem to be ready to go to a park, though I falsely “know” it is south of our home rather than north (something dreams do a lot). I am deciding if I should go with them, as it seems to keep “resetting” over time, even though, at one level, I know that there is no park south of us. (The orientation is mirrored rather than rotated, as the front door seems to the south instead of north as well, yet immediate surroundings are otherwise mostly correct.)

      In the next scene, I examine a very old large hardcover book (which is somewhat worn) which I was apparently sent in the mail recently. It is based somewhat on the concept of friendship books (FBs) from years ago that many people send on as they are supposed to, though there are always those who do not “get it” and keep them. The book seems to contain ghost stories and mysteries of perhaps a few pages each, and over many years from different amateur writers. I, as well, have a thought in my mind that I could keep the book, though I am not sure if that would be fair or right. Upon looking more closely, I see that several pages from a modern notebook (including the notebook’s cover) had been stapled on as the front cover (the real front cover seemingly missing), though it is partly coming off. I am trying to decide if it is just the notebook pages I should fill out (with my name and address) and send on after detaching the already loose staples, or the old book as well. Obviously, if each person is to add a story to the book, it needs to be sent on, yet the scene is somewhat ambiguous, especially as only the last few pages are blank. I already have the book, yet there is a statement on one of the first notebook pages expressing that you should write why you think your story should be included in the book, which contradicts why I received it in the first place.

      The first page of the book has about a hundred small signatures in various styles of handwriting going back to the late 1700s. I see the names “James” and “John” (though do not recall the last names) but do not attempt to focus on the entire long list. Each one had been an author of a story in the book. I remain perplexed and my dream shifts.

      I am then with my (deceased) sister on Loomis and Gillette and asking her about the changes that have occurred. I notice the area on the east side of Loomis looks very different. Instead of the neighbor’s house that was there on the corner, it appears to be an old church with all the windows sealed up with concrete blocks and the entire building painted over - which is actually like a real building across from my childhood (short-term) home on North Monroe in Florida, where people went a bit “off” and sealed the church possibly due to belief in “evil spirits”. (I am not sure of this, but I know that some people actually believe in such things, though I cannot imagine why.) She talks to me about it though it takes a little time to dawn on me that the whole area is not of the original buildings. There is also a strange “sign” made of three-dimensional letters (though I do not know the phrase as I am mostly perpendicular to it) that runs north to south along the east side of Loomis, that is, just the phrase sitting upright (vertically) over the lawns, somewhat like a miniature (but longer) version of the “Hollywood” sign, about chest-high. I do not bother to walk over and read it. Our conversation is not that vivid though my sister seems to be expressing puzzlement about my not knowing of the (fictional) changes, and my dream shifts again.

      Finally, I am with my wife Zsuzsanna in a mostly undefined setting. I notice that her face is glowing in a similar manner as when someone shines a flashlight from under their chin in a dark room, though in photographic negative, though with correct colors, so that the light both appears to come from inside as well as the colors rendered correctly (instead of with blue skin as would otherwise be the case). She is smiling intensely. “That’s sexy,” I say, though I am not sure of the dynamics of the setting (which seems indoors and outdoors at the same time) and my dream finally fades.
    13. Shoot-Out Surprise

      by , 06-27-2015 at 10:26 AM
      Morning of June 27, 2015. Saturday.



      In this atypical dream setup, I play two roles; I am a different character - an unknown unfamiliar male of about forty - as well as my dream-self from a different perspective much more like my real-self - though not disembodied (as is typical when I am more than one character or character’s perspective) and most often watching the action as if my dream’s scenario was part of an older and “recognized” movie. Until the ending scene, it mostly seems completely impersonal.

      My “arch-enemy” from school days, David K, is the leader of a group involved in organized crime. The gang is following my other character around a neighborhood in a small town. The “other me” is aware of this at times but there is no confrontation until the last scene. The “other me” has been doing gardening for the most part and does not seem to be involved in anything relating to any group of criminals or mafia associations.

      Finally, David is standing forward and center within a group of about nine men. The “other me” (who is shorter and stockier than I) looks at them while he is standing behind a small square “window” (just large enough to display his entire face but not much more than that) in a large tall hedge that borders a longer area of someone’s front yard. It seems that David has given the order to shoot this man (though this does not seem to bother me even though he is supposedly still the “other me” at this point). It seems a bit unusual that the man was just standing there looking at the others through the hedge’s “window” in this manner - though in some ways, seemingly caught by surprise as such (as if perhaps he had been thinking they would not notice him).

      Just as David’s men are preparing to shoot, most of them with rifles and soon lifting them, the man behind the hedge shoots all but two (David and one of his men behind him) with two unseen powerful guns he is apparently holding, one in each hand, which are hidden behind the hedge (which of course is highly unlikely, as he did not even have time to take aim). This comes as a sort of odd surprise even to me yet somehow also seems familiar as if from an actual movie. David is very startled and appears very worried (but is unharmed). Suddenly, the other male shoots the male who had still been standing behind David, who had been holding a pistol aimed at David’s head all that time (though I did not notice until this point).

      The other male comes out from behind the hedge and hugs David and David starts crying. At this point, David seems at least two feet shorter than the other male. The other male explains that he had been reading the hand signals of David’s man - and apparently David did not understand the system of hand signals his own men used, which were building up in planning to get rid of David. Around this time, my main dream-self becomes the other male and now sees from his perspective as my dream comes to a close. I am then, however, more like my actual real-self and David more reflective of his high school persona to some extent.
      Tags: guns, hedge, shooting
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    14. Roof Work

      by , 06-24-2015 at 09:28 AM
      Morning of June 24, 2015. Wednesday.



      This was a typical imposer dream. My family and I are living in a house that is about four times bigger as our real one though does not seem that recognizable as a composite of past homes.

      An annoying female neighbor with a mental disorder (from real life from a few years ago) is walking around in both our back and front yards and seemingly doing so because the owner is also here (even though she has nothing to do with what he is doing, I think). At one point, she is carrying a basket of laundry around. My dream becomes most vivid at this near-beginning point where I see her trying to open our back door (my view seemingly being through a few larger windows rather than seeing through the walls as in some dreams) and then walking away.

      I learn that the landlord is on a ladder, first having noticed the unrealistically high wooden ladder propped against our house and then seeing his feet on one of the top rungs. However, the scene is unlikely in that the ladder is almost straight up and the man’s position is very unsafe and not directly near the roof’s surface when I look - technically, a person could not work this way or even stand on a ladder this way in reality. I am almost certain he will probably fall within an hour or so (though this does not happen).

      Soon, a light-haired unfamiliar young female with very short hair tries to push her way through the front doorway as I am talking about the landlord’s unexplained imposition but I stop her. I also notice an unknown boy walking around in our front yard and become more annoyed. I go into a mock character mood (pretending to be the landlord) and start saying “Duh!” several times and “look at me, I am working on a house and do not know what legal means…l-e-g-a-l (spelling it out)…duh…what does that mean?” and mention that showing up to work on a tenant’s house without informing them is a violation of the RTA (which it is in reality). I am not really certain what the issue with the roof is, though at one point I have a view (seemingly outside from a distance from the front yard of the house) of the outer surface having been removed even though there is still a layer of undamaged shingles underneath, it seems. I have no idea what the situation is regarding the purpose of the roof work or worse, even the present state of our tenancy.

      Eventually, as I am talking, the female transforms into an older lady of about eighty (who looks somewhat like an older version of Frances Fisher from “Resurrection” but with lighter hair) and I then falsely remember her as the landlord’s wife (even though he only seems about forty at the most). Her features are mostly similar to the previous character’s; she is just now with many wrinkles and a slightly more squarish face. My dream-self does not even acknowledge the character transformation (and assumes she is still the same character originally perceived), though I comment that I thought she was only about eighteen years old at first and, though still very annoyed, pretend it is okay for them to be there without prior notification. She explains something about her Glock (relating to the roof somehow) needing to be replaced or something like that (which makes no sense as Glock is the name of a weapons manufacturer and type of pistol). I still am not sure what is going on.

      Being a typical imposer dream, it reflects present issues in having to deal with thoughtless workers regarding the NBN fiasco and telephone company over the last few weeks and the noise and overall mindless behavior just outside our window.
      Tags: ladder, roof
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    15. Barry Hides Out

      by , 06-19-2015 at 09:01 PM
      Morning of June 19, 2015. Friday.



      This dream apparently related to something my wife had been thinking, though did not tell me (at least recently) regarding dislike of the singer Barry Manilow due to him (or a song at the time) reminding her of when her father moved away. I have not actually seen him or heard any of his music (to my knowledge) for about twenty years.

      Barry Manilow is supposedly accused of murdering someone (victim unknown) - or so the in-dream back story seems to imply. Somehow, when he is fleeing the authorities (who are not that far behind), this relates to him giving my wife a set of documents in public (outside of a commercial building of some sort, possibly near a shopping mall), possibly important records of some sort, that somehow prove his innocence. It does not make much sense and my dream does not really go anywhere or resolve anything. There is the idea that he is hiding out (not with us but somewhere nearby) until his innocence is realized. He seems only about four feet tall in my dream (at least at one point), but I do not regard anything as unusual as my mind is not that “present” in the events.

      From here, my dream breaks off (while still in the same dream state) into a completely different focus. I am driving my brother-in-law Bob around (which never occurred in real life - he was the one that drove people places). I am not sure of the setting, as it seems mostly unfamiliar. There is some sort of concern about not driving too close to La Brea Tar Pits, which are somehow just beyond the edge of a cliff. I somehow maneuver the car so that it goes somewhat sideways (a carryover from a recent dream about a bus driver doing this). I make some sort of comment to my brother-in-law about La Brea Tar Pits before my dream meanders off into abstract settings and fades.
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