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Morning of June 17, 2015. Wednesday.



I become somewhat lucid but not enough to where my conscious focus becomes more dominant. I am somehow in the “Hansel and Gretel” story (though there have been no associations with it that I know of for a long time) and my lucidity sort of remains dormant after this, though there is no concern over my potential fate considering the scenario.

Not much happens at all. Gretel is unknown (though may be a younger version of my wife, though her appearance shifts a few times). We end up in the witch’s oven fairly quickly with not much of a back story. (The witch is like the one from “The Wizard of Oz” from 1939 - possibly even the “same” character.) I do not seem very alarmed and somehow believe that if we go farther to the back of the oven we will not be harmed. After this, there is a shift in perception and the oven seems to be or become a long featureless brick hallway we are just suddenly walking through, seemingly for a long time (though there is an odd skewed perception that we had not gone very far from the door of the oven). The girl walks ahead on my left looking back as if wary of me or if she is not sure who I am - though I am not quite sure of the situation. This seems to go on like some sort of minor epic event and then suddenly changes into walking out into a (unfamiliar) forest somewhere.

Morning of June 9, 2015. Tuesday.



I have had more vampire-related dreams in the past month than I have had in my lifetime, which is hardly any as stated several times before. In this one, which is fairly vivid though not lucid, I am also a young female, which I suppose sounds unusual to the inexperienced. Then again, considering I dream fairly often of being a letter of the alphabet or a rune (as well as having been vehicles, including a bus - and even a building), the situation is moot.

In this dream I mostly fly around showing my fangs to anyone who annoys me and sometimes creating lightning from my fingertips. My flying position is typically upright, though sometimes diagonal. There is a scene where I take the heads off of several males and roll them across an area in a parking lot near a storefront, like a bowling ball. I am not exactly sure what I look like, though after a time, my dream takes on a new theme.

The only familiar characters at any point are my best friend from school days (Toby T) and my wife’s mother. There is a strange changeover in emotion. I “know” I am female, though there is a point where doubt begins to grow. I am at a movie theater (prior to seeing any known characters) where everyone else is nude, and I feel very embarrassed about wearing clothes (recurring in-dream situation), especially such a large fancy outfit, so much so, I begin to move away, closer to the theater wall so people will not know I am dressed. I contemplate removing everything I am wearing, but my dream shifts to a different setting and situation.

Somehow, someone “knows” who I am, though the setup makes no sense. I am recognized as an actress by at least two people at some sort of public venue, though apparently actually a male, yet still a female in the movies. As I am standing, even though I get a vague impression I may be male (I feel a small movement which creates the impression of a small animal crawling under my clothes - and seems rather unfamiliar yet somehow “right” and some sort of “evidence” that I may be male), I decide I will be nude from then on to prove my status as a “real” female vampire witch. (This is completely different from the first scenes of my dream in my character focus and overall mood.) I “know” that I will excel in exposing these other people as just gossipers. (Besides, the mouse will probably escape and not be seen anyway - in-dream “logic” - imagine a male part being able to come and go like a small animal with a mind of its own.) My total certainty about this aspect of my dream is a very familiar but ambiguous presence of somehow knowing I am the dream-maker, yet not at all lucid.

In another scene, which seems to be a different dream, I seem to be a male (though still associated with magic and vampirism). I am in some sort of friendly meeting with three unknown females with darker skin, in an undefined building (in a mostly featureless rectangular room and sitting on the floor). Although they seem to like and care about me in what seems an augmented empathic setting, I feel a bit strange (but do not express how I feel) in putting on a pair of pants that are over-sized, the crotch and back area almost bowl-like and almost going up to my chest when pulled fully up against my body. I will certainly need a belt, but at the time, I do not have one. It is difficult to imagine going out in public like this with any sense of dignity. One of the females leaves to go to a public venue. Once again, I feel embarrassed upon wearing clothes in-dream (a lifelong recurring theme, often associated with realizing my pants are an ugly or weird style, sometimes clown-like) even though the three females are dressed informally for the most part and do not appear out-of-place.

Morning of June 8, 2015. Monday.



There is not much to this dream sequence. There are two sections that seem unrelated. There is a scene where I seem to be watching myself from about five feet away as I am seated in a small wooden chair and playing a black accordion (in an undefined location). I am probably about forty in this scene. I am not playing any music at the time. I am clearly focused for a short time on the name, which is Hohner, though the name appears vertically (rotated ninety degrees to the left, as on some real-life accordions when held in playing position). I have not seen a real accordion like this in years. (This is probably a semiconscious awareness of the word “honor”, which is pronounced differently than “hoe ner”, perhaps for no particular reason, though one definition is “the quality of knowing and doing what is morally right”. It is interesting how the mind creates seemingly related layers as such.)

In the next scene, I am fully in-body. I am with my wife and family in Clayfield (where we have not lived in years) on Gellibrand Street. However, the orientation seems slightly altered. I get two envelopes in the mail that are about the size one would receive a small greeting card in and they are thin and slightly stiff as if containing one card each. They seem to be suspicious and illegal (from the black market, but mostly appearing like random junk mail) and seemingly from the Philippines, claiming that I had requested them - which makes me even more agitated. There are several phrases on the outside of the envelopes that apparently describe the nature of their business, but upon tentatively opening each, it turns out to be one piece of thicker stock each, one with some sort of calendar-like matrix (three by four) displaying variations of raisin muffins and possibly recipes below each image too small to read (of the type of card with a magnet to place on a refrigerator, like a politician’s propaganda during an upcoming election or junk mail calendar), the other being distorted and not clearly remembered but possibly something to do with pens with a campaign logo. I am debating whether or not to give the materials to postal inspectors (contemplating if people who get such junk mail are on a special “watch list”), but it seems like they are just some sort of odd random spam (with nothing making any sense at all or anything having any relationship to anything else) as seen often on the Internet, so I remain a bit undecided.

Morning of June 7, 2015. Sunday.



In the first part of my dream, I am disembodied and watching a large group of tribal people on an island (possibly Polynesian) dragging an overturned very large (prehistoric) living trilobite onto the beach. Apparently they are somehow getting a lot of edible meat from it. There is a bit of ambiguity as if there is something related to archaeology in the back of my mind. It does not seem to matter that trilobites were probably never this large and are also extinct, as the scene is extraordinarily vivid and “realistic” otherwise.

Later, there is a shift and more people (perhaps the same group) are capturing large turtles and somehow using the carapace as some sort of small boat that seems to be able to hold about three or four people. It seems fairly “realistic” but I doubt it would be feasible.

I am with some unknown and unfamiliar females, not tribal and not directly associated with the other groups to my knowledge. We are in a boat which is somewhat canoe-like (not a kayak) though the others are sculling in an area near shore - which may be in the ocean or a very large lake, though I do not sense it is competitive rowing (or regarding a need to hurry), at least not clearly. There is an abandoned windmill on shore which seems important. Somehow, four oars are jury-rigged as new blades for this windmill, which seems to happen almost instantly even though I sense or see little movement. This is perhaps some sort of composite joining. Windmills represent the dreaming process itself or level of lucidity (as does successfully traveling in a small boat over a large body of water) or extent of the connection to semi-consciousness. In the past, one dream where windmills were stopped or unmoving (and another from years ago regarding entering a painting of a windmill, though I had a recent one where someone else was ready to enter a painting with a windmill) represented being fully in my dream, as the windmill turning would imply conscious awareness and a windmill beginning to move might be related to the liminal level of waking consciousness, but this is probably not always the case.

I do not get out of the boat as there is something else I have to do before waking - to help with my physical existence and “uniformity” in my role of “pretending” to be human and to exist in the real world as such.

I eventually shift to where I am aware that I am in bed with my wife, though she is asleep and I am in a state of artificial “wakefulness”, though not full sleep paralysis - only very light sleep paralysis, as there is not the typical blissful awareness or wonderful waves of energy and oscillation that move from head to toe and back in such states. I am aware that, due to recent back pain, I have to go through several stages and need to maintain each stage for a certain number of minutes prior to waking.

First of all, I am a trilobite lying on my back in our bed, but I need to transform over time into other representations of whatever partially abstract line of thought or existence I am in. I do not move (or attempt to move) at any point. Still, I am well aware that I am becoming a lobster. Becoming a lobster is important and not uncomfortable, so I am a lobster for several minutes. I almost sense a level of transparency and a sort of “flatness”, yet still three-dimensional vertically (which is somewhat ambiguous in form). Of course, from here, the next “logical” step is to be in my scorpion form for awhile. Finally, my line of in-dream thought begins to become a bit too abstract and wavers slightly. Still, I know my next stage is to become a tarantula, though from that point, I am puzzled over how to “correctly” adapt physically and wake “correctly”. This is vaguely similar to where I transform into symbols (such as runes) or letters of the alphabet (though sometimes just random polygonal shapes) in the “correct” way while in the “correct” position.

Morning of June 5, 2015. Friday.



This is one of five more memorable dreams of this morning (my dream memory usually ranging from six to nine clearer ones) and has the recurring presence of a snake - which usually makes a dream more vivid and focused for some reason (with the snake sometimes seemingly being the most well-rendered feature), sometimes even lucid. Since very early childhood, I have been aware of how a snake is sometimes metaphorical for the human intestine (such as with either indigestion or hunger pangs) though other times related to something else, sometimes literal, sometimes associated with pain in the fingers (especially if the fangs are seen), sometimes associated with the human spine and temporarily greater back pain depending on context. (This does not always include the cobra, which typically has completely different associations for me.)



My dream is firstly of the type that is not very well-rendered and with the indoor-outdoor ambiguity. My wife and I are seemingly outside (though with vague indoor features) in an unknown area though I know there are mountains “behind” us to the south, narrowly ranging east and west. Over time, it seems as if we actually are outside near an embankment.

I soon notice a snake to my right and under a few smaller branches and debris. However, there is no sustained wariness or concern as I soon see that it is dead. A little later though, there is a live one crawling about and I get the impression that it is highly venomous. It apparently leaves the area without incident, but there is still concern. My youngest son is wandering about for a short time. The ground is hard grayish dirt for the most part. There seems to be a very vague essence of being in the backyard in Cubitis, but it does not clearly seem as such and may only be an association. It really does not look anything like the area (especially with the mountains beyond).

My wife Zsuzsanna somehow contacts someone on a radio and it seems relative to a parks and recreation communication regarding safety. A man in a helicopter shows up and flies over the area checking for the presence and activity (crawling direction) of any snakes. He later walks up with a temporary map saying how they are mostly in the mountain belt at this time.

However, there is still the one snake that did not actually leave the area. I have a book of matches and manage to set the snake on fire after a few attempts, and which takes a few minutes to send it completely ablaze. It does not move much during this time. It may be an in-dream metaphor for lower back pain in this case, which has sparsely and randomly occurred throughout my life. (There is also a type of firework called Black Snake which I have not used since 1990, which may have served as a reference for the situation.) Again, although the snake seemingly represents the human spine in this case and the fire may relate to back pain (though fire often is associated with growing conscious awareness though of course such would be required to perceive pain in the first place), it may also relate to dream state alchemy and eliminating the pain.

Morning of June 3, 2015. Wednesday.



In my dream, I am going into the (completely unfamiliar) bathroom. I feel very dirty and shakily moan dramatically and wearily, almost like performing a very brief guttural song (almost as a trance in soliloquy), about being in “The Zone” as if “The Zone” meant that I was like a drug-using homeless person or 1960s hippie, being completely undesirable and problematic in apparently the worst way a person can be and as dirty as a living thing can physically be, just on the edge of being disease incarnate. It is frustrating as such and I remove everything I am wearing as quickly as possible with only minor difficulties in getting my pants legs off from around my heels before I throw my pants, shirt, and socks aside with utter disgust. The bathroom is very large (about eight times the size of our real one). To my left (where I am near the toilet) is a small bathtub I think about washing down in as soon as possible. However, the bathtub is ludicrously small to where I could probably only sit in it with my knees up against my chin. Still, I look to the far right of the room (near the entrance) and “remember” that we have at least three or four spare bathtubs in a pile near the corner. However, I am annoyed at the idea of having to install a different one - and besides, they do not look all that much bigger than the other one. I certainly do not want to stay as I am but am not sure what to do yet do not feel like messing around with wrenches and pipes.

I wake up after this and immediately have a hot shower, directly followed by a cold one (I have a few showers a day year-round, “extra” ones being very short, often just to cool off in this near-unlivable climate).

Morning of June 2, 2015. Tuesday.



Of all the thousands of dreams I have documented since early childhood, I am still somewhat intrigued by how they can so easily create “amnesia” (in so quickly “wiping out” years of memory and knowledge, yet so quickly restoring mental faculties and critical thinking skills upon waking), link to whatever mechanism it is that allows for remote viewing and short-term and long-term precognition (although I now know that the conscious mind is more viable for that, so that point is probably moot), and yet so easily alter locations and layouts in a particular transient setting. Of the different types of dreams and different levels of consciousness, I still have no real theories on the creative mechanism, the one that instantly alters everything in such a convincing way, other than with certain types of lucid dreams and certain levels of scripted dreams. Going over and over the nature of different dream types and renderings is becoming more of a focus than ever because nothing I’ve ever read (commercially) has any credibility related to my lifelong study. I guess I am trying to solve the mystery of consciousness itself as well as whatever “it” is that has given me such a strange advantage and established my partnership with my dream girl in real life - and why so many “impossible” things have happened from day to day, even as a toddler (regarding the self-motivated restoring of my left hand and “rewiring” my brain for lack of a better term). Sometimes the more mundane a dream seems (depending on its level of vividness), the more it fascinates me in its minor divergences from real environmental features without the temporary incarnation of the particular dream-self immediately recognizing it as such.

In this shorter dream, my sister Marilyn (deceased) is in Australia (she has never been outside the United States) and in our present home on W Street. She is at the computer in the kitchen, the one my two youngest sons are often on in the morning. I am not sure what she is doing (or what program or game she is running). I am not sure of the time, though the house is semi-dark and I see no obvious light source anywhere.

This dream alters the known environment by placing the couch that normally faces north (in our living room and toward the front door) as its back adjacent to the open space into the kitchen and facing west (which is opposite the direction of the kitchen - the couch has never been near this part of the house in reality - it is meant to be a dining room but we use it as a bedroom with the kids using all the other actual bedrooms). Even though our couch would fit in this space in reality, there would otherwise not be enough clearance into our kitchen unless a person carefully sidestepped through.

My wife and I are being romantic on the couch (at this point I am not yet aware that my older sister is in the kitchen behind us). She is on my left. Eventually, my left hand absentmindedly goes down between a cushion and I soon find that I am holding something that looks like the chrome piece from a Revell car model kit; probably a tail light without the plastic bulb cover. However, I begin to think it is too large to be from a model kit and that it may be a piece from one of my youngest son’s toy cars. Although it seems far too small to be from a real car, my sister asks me what car it is from (this being the first time I heard her speak or was aware of her being there) as if she apparently owns several “real” cars.

I get up and go into the kitchen to show it to her. It looks like a somewhat trapezoidal toy-like tail light with two other smaller implied lights connected to the main piece (again, somewhat as from a model where it is one solid chrome piece where if for a real car there would be a few pieces as such). I absentmindedly “explain” that it goes on the right side of the back of a car, above the main tail light. She seems puzzled about it and I contemplate what she is thinking about one of her cars being damaged, though this is not certain (in real life, she never drove or owned a car - only her husband did).

Once again, a dream has an unrelated “carryover” from another very recent dream (usually of the morning before). I have become more and more aware of this type of dream-related “anomaly” over the years, having seen it hundreds of times in the past five years. In one of my several dreams from yesterday (“Unsuccessful Market”), it featured a point where I also found toy-like metallic parts within a larger object, that being a large “ball of candy”. This seems to be a completely different process than lifelong recurring dreams that are much the same overall. I am not sure if it is relative to anything significant or some sort of residual element from each prior dream from doing dream work so often. Along with what I know now as common “anniversary” dreams (both before and after particular date associations - sometimes in a precognitive or postcognitive sense - though it also related to emerging conscious memories), I have never seen a hint of it mentioned in any dream literature even though I have experienced it virtually countless times.

Morning of May 25, 2015. Monday.



I am not sure of the location or even the immediate setting, though I am living with my wife yet seem to be about twenty years younger. There is a slight essence of Stadcor Street in Brisbane, but it also seems like an apartment building with a hallway (though not reminiscent of the King Street boarding house this time) and it may be on the first floor.

I eventually notice an intruder sitting on my left (about six feet away), though do not strongly associate him as such at first (as he may instead be a friendly visitor I had somehow forgotten about). My first intent is to wake up my wife by calling out her name. I am seated and she is sleeping on a bed (or possibly a couch in which the back drops down to make a single bed) to my right. Once again, I call out someone’s name and they do not respond (recently recurring in-dream situation). Zsuzsanna continues to sleep peacefully after I say her name loudly about four or five times. Thus, I decide that instead of getting her up and us leaving the room until I work out the intruder’s intent, I will get up and make him leave by physical force.

Eventually I realize that I am holding a sword, so I put it up against his neck to make him leave the room. I continue to hold it up as he moves back and into the hall, close to the door to the apartment or room where he apparently lives. I still tap his neck a few times, drawing a bit of blood as he backs up against his door. I decide to let him go into his apartment and so I turn to go back to where my wife and I are seemingly living. However, I notice more and more blood flowing out from my right arm and going everywhere, including making a puddle on the floor (and my wife is still sleeping). This is quite possibly one of the most vivid bleeding dreams I have ever had as I am fully aware of my body and presence - and the perspective is “perfect” as well (with no typical distortions of any kind). I enter a very well-defined state of clarity and awareness as I continue to stand while looking down at all the blood. On the one hand, I know I am bleeding in a possibly fatal manner, trying to work out how it even happened as the other male did not have a sword. The cut is over my upper right arm (about the entire length of my upper arm) and blood is flowing everywhere. I slowly wake, though with the tentative confidence that I will somehow survive.

The meaning behind this dream, I would normally just attribute to being a metaphor for the waking process (and the “death” of the transient dream self upon entering the waking process). However, it also implements a remote viewing connection, which is relative to the same event that my wife remote viewed in a different way. In her case, she remote viewed a dream scene where a child was talking on a toy telephone. Today, in the mail (without the slightest idea it would occur), we received several childhood photos of me from one of my older sisters for the first time ever (I am still of the belief that remote viewing requires at least two active minds - in this case the other mind being that of my sister’s - who sent the photos). In one of them, I am holding a toy telephone, validating my wife’s very consistent remote viewing perception over the years (after all, she accurately remote viewed my childhood long before we met). Another photo is from around the time I had my near-fatal accident and NDE in 1962 where I lost a lot of blood as a toddler and miraculously did not go into shock and soon self-trained my left hand to work again over time (and “rewired” my brain by force of will at a very young age - thus my enhanced dream memory and understanding among other things) even though it was “certain” (by the doctors’ claim) that my wrist and hand would be paralyzed for life. As such, some memories from age one and a half resurfaced, but only those related to the park visits. Basically, this dream was a form of remote viewing a very old memory linked to a precognitive association of an approaching visual event and layering it in a character composite with my adult self (even though the location of the bleed-out differed in this dream, as dreams often change orientations in one way or another).

I also feel that there may be some meaning here regarding the calling of the name in terms of reversal while in the dream state. This situation accurately implies that my wife is awake in reality (verified) so thus is “asleep” in my own dream (and this is not the first time I have been aware in a non-lucid dream in this precise way though it depends on the type and level of the dream). This is probably similar to how the “shadow person” in a dream (especially a vivid lucid dream) is actually the waking conscious mind rather than what inexperienced people claim in it being something “darker” or potentially threatening to the real conscious self. When in a dream, it is the transient dream self that faces annihilation (in the process of waking), not the conscious self, so it is rather absurd to make the claim that a shadow in a dream is somehow “lower” than the dream self or unconscious state.

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As already noted, I made a note of how I felt it was me “reliving” my childhood trauma of nearly having my left hand cut off (even though in my dream it was my upper right arm). One of the photographs my sister sent recently (and there was no way of knowing she would send photographs) shows me during the time period I was recovering from this event which occurred July 4, 1962 and while my hand and wrist is still wrapped. In fact, I had been imagining seeing this exact same photograph recently and very unlikely - received it the day after in real life. (even though I have only heard from her a few times in the last twenty years and rarely while growing up).

Morning of May 24, 2015. Sunday.



I have returned to a fictional recurring dream location that I had been to several times before in past dreams, which is some sort of fancy resort, or was by this point, with a large lake mostly on the southern side in most cases and the fictional “enchanted forest” region north of the resort. Although it slightly reminds me of an area of the Mississippi River (or Black River area) of La Crosse, it also somehow reminds me of the essence of my elementary school’s playground in Florida, especially in this dream.

I talk to a younger male (who has a female staff member with him) about how I used to enjoy going out on the lake in a boat. However, as I grow closer to the end of my dream, I notice that most of the lake is gone, with only a few puddles remaining. There are still boats on the muddy ground, even a fishing boat farther out. I think about going out to look around but realize that the ground is probably too soft to safely walk on. I wanted my family to enjoy the area, although we may be staying here for a time anyway. There are not that many patrons in the area. I do not know or learn what had caused the lake to disappear. I even ponder upon why the resort would even be open with no more lake to supplement it.

This may be a very similar situation in meaning to my lifelong recurring fishing dreams (as well as similar dreams of the past where lakes or rivers become shallow or vanish during the course of my dream). One of the first ones similar to this regarding a body of water getting lower over time was “The Angler” from 1965. Over the last thirty years, I have more and more come to understand that it simply represents the waking process. As the water becomes lower over time, so also does the “deepness” or “impact” (or more “realistically” rendered detail in some cases) of the dream. It may also be that flood dreams sometimes represent a “struggle” with the waking process (especially if latent apnea is relative). In fact, even “escape” dreams (where you are trying to get away from something) may possibly only represent a “struggle” with the waking process in some cases, especially if the dream is also influenced or “scripted” by environmental sounds during sleep.

Morning of May 23, 2015. Saturday.



I am not sure of the location or more detailed aspects of the setting, though it is in a house that is unfamiliar in layout, though not that defined beyond the immediate perspectives. I seem to be much younger, perhaps as young as twelve or more. The main focus of my dream is a (fictional) strategy game which is somewhat like a composite of Battleship (though one side played at a time for one game), Risk, and the notepaper and pencil game we played in school where one person draws tanks, soldiers, and structures and the other person blindly and quickly draws a random line over the playing field to see what he coincidentally hit. The game field is on a large thin plastic grid on the floor, possibly about fifteen by fifteen squares and maybe about four feet by four feet or smaller in size. It also has land features (at least one stream) that are either already painted on or added somehow. There are mostly plastic toy soldiers, vehicles, and buildings to place, including at least two three by three towers. The play involves the enemy team blindly “firing a missile” from one area on each turn, probably from behind a “wall” as otherwise they would just see the playing field. However, I do not seem to see this feature even though it would have to exist to play as indicated. My older brother Jim (deceased) sits in an armchair at one point and watches us for a time while eating a pizza. (Later, I notice Jim is gone, and hear a few flies buzzing around the residue left on the pizza box.)

One round is played by my team. There are at least four of us; all young males. One boy reminds me of a neighbor from Stadcor Street in Brisbane, though much stockier though his glasses and general facial appearance are mostly the same. At one point, our turn to set things up on our playing field commences. There is a break though, and I am the only one from my team seated in the area, though a member of the other team speaks with me as I move to temporarily sit on the other side. Apparently, there is some sort of odd rule that one member must tell the other team how to use the best strategy to beat them based on at least two or three patterns of the layout (or perhaps more). This does not seem to make sense. Why play a strategy game if you tell the other team the best way to proceed to win? Still, I try to do my best to suggest how the other team should proceed. I make a note of the last columns being a good start (because the area has a number of buildings all across the columns and many soldiers nearby) as well as the second row ahead (from my team’s perspective). The boy I talk to seems to be planning it out on a laptop computer. Still, he claims more information is needed for his team to have the advantage and I try to make the playing field’s quickest defeat potential clearer.

I eventually return to my position, being the third player from the left. The other team “fires a missile” and it moves all the way through the third column from my left, somehow taking out the bottom bricks from each building (which appears to happen in slow motion). The layout has two three by three towers right together (closer to the enemy’s end) and (closer to us) at least a six by three makeshift military building of some kind. What is left of the buildings does not tip or fall after this event though it seems like poor strategy (as in Battleship) to have put so much in one place since the placement of the rest can then more easily be guessed. The boy in the glasses seems rather upset and starts taking some of the pieces off the playing field. Meanwhile, my father (deceased as of February 14, 1979) comes into the room. (Seeing my father alive again after so many years does not trigger even an iota of lucidity.) He seems cheerful and watches us but absentmindedly knocks some pieces aside as he stands on one end of the playing field for a time, fouling up the rest of the game field even though the boy in glasses had already ruined much of the game by taking many of the pieces off.

Eventually, I follow the other boy into a different (smaller) room and notice that the game pieces had transformed (or had always been) the kind of plastic baby blocks of different shapes and with the hollow recesses on either side (such as squares, stars, circles, etc. which the child fits through equally-shaped holes into a container) though I do not really focus on much other than the annoying behavior of the other boy. I notice that some of the blocks (now on the floor) are dirty and so I plan on washing them before they are used in any future game. The boy wrinkles his nose as if he does not like how I smell (though an unpleasant smell is mostly on the blocks). I ask him if there is something wrong with him as I contemplate washing the game pieces/blocks as my dream slowly fades.

Morning of May 22, 2015. Friday.



There are a number of (seemingly) random facets to this dream. The first event relates to hearing about a comet on a collision course with Earth (the name of the comet not being known or mentioned) and to strike somewhere in New England (America); either Maine or Vermont. I heard the name of the city as well at one point, but do not recall it - or there could have been a “reset” to explain the Maine and Vermont confusion as I seem to recall both conflicting elements. The unusual detail is that it will supposedly not cause that much widespread destruction even though it is indeed an entire comet that had apparently passed by the Earth before. I am not that concerned as I am on the other side of the planet anyway. However, my (deceased) sister Marilyn is also an in-dream character, and she has never been outside the United States. I do seem to be living amidst some of my present real-life features and circumstances, though the setting is ambiguous.

The next part of my dream seems set in possibly our Stadcor Street home in Brisbane (though it does have a few elements reminiscent of our present house’s kitchen). It involves an unknown family cooking an elephant bird (extinct birds from Madagascar - formally known as Aepyornithidae) as some sort of taste test or trial. It is not fully known of how ordinary citizens in a family got the body of an elephant bird, though there is a mention of someone having cloned one. There are only two smaller cooked pieces on the plate (which resemble distorted parts of normal-sized chicken legs with about half the skin removed - which unrealistically represents a part of the otherwise huge bird), but oddly, my dream “resets” twice - where I eat the two pieces as three different people in a sequence; a black female of about thirty, one of her sons of about thirteen (who I believe cooked the meal), and as myself as I am now. I do not question this strange transition and impossible series of events of the changing in-body perspectives - it is like spiritually “jumping” from body to body for a very short time to experience the essence of how the person is moving and what they are tasting. The female gets annoyed by a single small red ant crawling on the edge of the plate at one point and says loudly to “get that animal out of the house” and it seems to foretell failed cooking endeavors in the future until it is removed. This part is a bit unusual in that the two pieces of meat are “still” on the plate as if they had not already been eaten three times over in the few “resets”.

After this is another somewhat confusing event involving my sister (appearing as she was in about 1980) chiding me (but without that much emotion) relating to having broken a CD case holder, which is somewhat drawer-like (so that it would fit in a larger cabinet in the kitchen). There is a part near the front on one side that is broken off, which is a cylindrical piece of plastic, which makes it difficult to keep the cases uniform. I explain how it had happened due to it being difficult to get the case back in, being slightly wider than what the holder seemed designed for. As I look around, I notice a couple dish racks which look very similar to the CD case holders (and almost the same size - but for smaller plates) and notice that there had been a breakage in the same area along the top runner of the “drawer” in at least two of the racks. I then say how I am not the one who had broken the other items, reflecting that my sister had probably done it, making the act of me having broken the other item seem less eventful and me less deficient. There are about a dozen holders for either CDs or small plates in the kitchen, all on the same side of the room. At this point, I am also still aware of the comet approaching the other side of the planet (but again, supposedly not to be a catastrophe even though I am somewhat wary of the idea).

Finally, I notice that I have an open cut near the middle of my right middle finger, which seems infected. Green jelly is showing, which somehow seems to be coagulated blood. I start to reflect on the idea, as I pull out what seems like an entire “vein” that resembles a green-apple strand of toothpaste but more viscous, that I probably should have gone to the doctor and gotten antibiotics before it progressed this far. Still, I am somewhat relieved that I am able to pull out most of this green “vein” (all the way down to my wrist) before it infects more of my body, but as I do, I am aware that it will make my hand somewhat hollow and eventually useless. There is one area above the knuckle that seems more problematic and “lumpy” as a result of the infection and needs to all come out. In fact, as I mention it to my sister, my hand is already weakened and “hollow” near the wrist where it will probably just flop around unable to be used to pick things up. Most of the muscle seems to somehow be gone shortly after my act of pulling out the green “Gummy Worm”, even though it was only the one strand that I pulled out.

Morning of May 19, 2015. Tuesday.



Scenes in dreams like the following, related to digging through something like a couch, the floor, or a mattress, have not been that uncommon throughout my life since childhood but are usually fairly different in detail. Also, finding stuff in our house that had been left behind by any previous tenants or landlord (not necessarily requiring any digging in every case) is also recurring - though again, with different details, including previously “hidden” rooms or furniture we somehow had not noticed before. In addition to the fair amount of time spent in-dream looking for and finding things, there is often a mild sense of disappointment as well as having wasted time in some cases upon waking; a mood I usually do not acquire from a dream. In fact, as a child, when I did not know any better, I had a habit of holding onto the last item I found steadfastly in a futile attempt to wake up with it and have it in reality, though obviously, that never worked. I sometimes woke gripping my pillow or the sheet; other times just making a fist.

This dream has the recurring “couch filled with dirt” situation. My wife and I are in our present home on W Street and at one point I develop a vague curiosity about what may have been left behind by any previous tenants. It does not make all that much sense due to the fact that the couch, of the type that becomes a bed by the back dropping down (rather than the type we have in reality that folds out into a larger bed from under the seat) - and of the kind I had in Florida as a teenager for a time - is apparently our furniture in my dream (and thus moved here from a previous house regarding any in-dream back story, rendering my dream’s situation invalid). I start by ripping back the material near one end and digging through the dark dirt filling. At some points, I am able to go around the edges near the floor and find more items. Apparently, unlike in reality, there are no cushions; just “dirt bedding” within that goes all the way down to the floor.

What I find is typical of my in-dream “treasure hunts”. I find a few old random paperback novels; some science-fiction, some romance, and even a western or two (all unfamiliar). I find a couple board games that likely have missing tokens. There are some old magazines, larger documents that look like order blanks from A4-sized catalogs, but not any comic books that I can see. Being buried in rich soil for however long has not ruined anything, it seems. I eventually notice what may be some of our own paperback books (and some other items) close to the wall but behind the couch and stacked loosely on the floor, but am not exactly sure where our books end and the previously hidden items begin at one point since the dirt had become looser and some items came out from the back of the couch.

At one point, I find a longer mostly yellow commercial cardboard container (about one and a half feet by four inches high by eight inches wide) that apparently contains something related to sexuality or the enhancement thereof, though there are no graphic images on the box, just a few printed images of smooth paintings of the backs of a pair of female hands. For a short time, I think that I would probably not want something that belonged to someone else in this case, though the box turns out to be empty other than having two smaller additional featureless gray empty cardboard boxes inside. I am not sure what was in it - possibly only perfume containers or massage oils of some sort.

Eventually, after sorting out mostly the paperbacks into stacks, I also find a number of children’s cardboard frame tray puzzles farther down but do not see the pieces at first (just the shallow cardboard trays). I do eventually find most of the pieces in another area when almost all of the dirt has been moved and I am down to the surface of the wooden floor. One puzzle seems to just utilize a large piece with a drawing of a person’s head that fits in the frame tray (which has minor details of the shoulders and neck, etc.), though others are more complex and “realistic” in nature and including pieces shaped like stars, apples, houses, etc. I notice that some of the pieces have been ruined by someone’s attempt to pull the different layers apart (as younger children sometimes tend to do), some with thin parts of the layers or strips still attached and a couple missing the imagery ply. I decide to keep them to sort out later (for our children) to see which ones are still complete and undamaged.

After a long exploration and setting aside newly found items, I am somewhat frustrated over having reached the wooden floor via the couch, wondering if I should keep going with my quest, though which would require pulling up the planks to get to anything underneath them (which does not make any sense as in reality our house is up on posts and you can actually see through the floorboards to the ground below). I am also puzzled over what had happened to all the dirt since the couch seems somewhat “hollow” at this point (at least on one end) and I do not see any piles of dirt nearby. I do start to smooth over what dirt is left at the other end in the attempt to make the couch “solid” and evenly surfaced as it was, so that it is properly comfortable again. (This is somewhat illogical as the upholstery I had ripped and damaged in my quest would still need to be repaired.)

Finally, I seem to be able to look down under the house and beyond (towards the back of our house) and under a different room; some sort of odd viewpoint that would not be possible in reality (though which may otherwise imply some sort of open space between the lower part of the wall in the next room and the floor, similar to the setup way back on Rose Street as a young child). I see that there are a very large number of small wooden containers under the house in a (fictional) enclosed storage area, each filled with a very large number of vertically arranged seed packets, which I am aware are likely mostly edible plants including carrots, celery, lettuce, strawberry plants, and so on. I start to consider planting them everywhere and anywhere, as there are so many, we are bound to get something edible over time, and for a long time, as there seem to be thousands of packets. I wake up feeling slightly annoyed at having wasted time finding everything.

Morning of May 18, 2015. Monday.



I become semi-lucid and start to wonder about how I had gotten or just bought a lopsided ice cream cone I am holding or even whether in fact it is mine. This occurs in a mostly undefined area though possibly in Brisbane (and with a fleeting sense of nostalgia). It seems like I should eat it before it melts nonetheless. However, my dream becomes completely dark (and completely undefined) with a simultaneous increase in the sensitivity of touch (recurring event since early childhood). I reflect on how it is sometimes difficult to walk around in complete darkness and be able to communicate with people or even in fact avoid bumping into others (recurring concept since early childhood). After a short time, I realize that I cannot feel the ice cream cone in my hands and am annoyed about the wastage of money. There is a brief attempt to feel the ice cream cone even though it is not there - a sort of illogical concern over whether or not I am using the sense of touch correctly.

After this, abstract “realizations” come to mind. I am not sure if what I had was an elephant’s head, a map of South America or the lopsided ice cream cone - or perhaps all three due to them being the “same thing”. I falsely “remember” this being an early childhood situation that had occurred a few times in which there was also the “memory” of three sequential pages in a coloring book of an elephant’s head, a map of South America, and a lopsided ice cream cone and possibly several other “identical” shapes as well as perhaps the Eiffel Tower on the last page for no particular relation or reason. I try to remember upon waking if I had actually seen South America transformed into an elephant’s head in a Gold Key comic book “reader’s page” (where contributing readers sometimes sent drawings of faces made from an arrangement of letters from a word), but am not sure.

Morning of May 16, 2015. Saturday.



My wife and family and I are on some sort of tour where we visit different movie studios as well as at least one television studio. Mostly, modern ghost stories are being filmed. We do go to one set that seems to be a soap opera about doctors having affairs with their patients. Every now and then, a “key” scene is being filmed where an unidentified person runs in front of the camera and later something horrifying supposedly happens (though no horror is ever actually seen).

At one point, the “person running past the camera” becomes annoying and the set mood fairly boring (even though most of the sets are somewhat dark and mysterious). At the soap opera set (which is well-lit), as a male doctor is professing to a female patient about how much he loves her, a shadow darts past the camera and the director screams “Cut!” and throws the script to the floor and tells whoever it is that they are at the wrong studio set. The shadow seems to cower and is seen (on a featureless wall) walking on tiptoes for a time.

Many more scenes are filmed in various so-called horror films where a shadowy figure runs in front of the camera (just as in reality where almost every movie I have seen over the past several years has at least one scene where someone runs in front of the camera, which has become more and more hilarious over the past year, causing my wife and I to laugh out loud every time it happens).

Eventually, I absentmindedly shout “Hey, who are you?” (though there is no discernible lucidity behind my potentially bold imposing query) and Charlie Chaplin steps out from behind a wall. Very oddly (in the highest awareness and “energized” rendering), I get an impression, as he approaches, of a quivering chihuahua (as if the dog was afraid of being punished for making a mess on a rug). He also appears to be dropping crumpled-up bits of paper as if trying to find what note is relevant to his present role of running past a particular camera. He never speaks.

Someone says something about the “scariest movie ever” and I start swearing, asking how a movie could be scary as it is just a moving image on a screen a fair distance from the viewer. Charlie starts holding his index finger vertically to his lips, as a librarian does to “shush” the patrons. This seems to be because I am using too many swearwords as well as being too loud.

Charlie puts on a pair of fake bunny ears and runs past the camera once again. There is a loud scream and the sound of something metallic falling, possibly a spotlight. I start slapping my knees and laughing.

Morning of May 15, 2015. Friday.



In the first part of my dream, I am with my wife and children in what seems to be our previous home on Barolin Street. I mostly remain around the area near the doorway into the kitchen, though staying mostly in the living room. I have some sort of card, about the size of a standard playing card or trading card, that is transparent in some areas and may be three-layered (with the transparent part being sandwiched between two thin cardboard layers that may have a couple abstract patterns). When I hold it up over my left eye, it creates realistic holograms in the room of various (unfamiliar) people walking around, sitting down (on our actual furniture), and interacting with each other. It is almost like watching characters in a movie. It is very realistic and three-dimensional and I mention this to my wife who is standing near the doorway at one point. This dream scene is almost like the opposite in mood to my dream from yesterday (“Several Intruders” from May 14th) in that there is a cheerful and interesting atmosphere (though of course, in this case, I decide whether or not to see them via usage of the card). I remain intrigued by how “realistic” the holographic people are though they are completely intangible and lack the potential to interact with, apparently, and I do not clearly recall experiencing them audibly speaking or at least what was said. There are mostly a few older females in long old-fashioned dresses as well as children (both male and female) of various ages.

Later, the living room of the Barolin Street house seems to slightly infuse into a composite that includes my old King Street apartment (the northeast corner room with the cupola area), though it “feels” more like the Barolin Street house. Still, the pinhead Leonard S shows up (mostly standing) and there is also an unknown younger male in the room (sitting on the floor) and he seems annoyed. He is possibly a college student and is probably loosely modeled after friend Rick S though he does not resemble him that much. He becomes angry after I inform him not to go through my belongings and he eventually starts yelling about not having eaten for several days, which is supposedly why his mood is atypically as it presently is. I go to check the status of my (fictional) collection of trading cards. (In fact, he may have been going through my room to find food, though this is not certain.)

My “collection”, or at least about half of it, seems to include duplicates of the same musician-themed card (and which are more like typical plain trading cards; not like the hologram-making card in the first part of my dream). Two of the slightly sketchy card designs are Rick Springfield (thus the possible association with friend Rick S) and David Essex - though the cards seem to have been made in the early 1960s or the late 1950s, which makes the scenario impossible (which is typical of dreams for some reason). Inside a large white wooden cabinet on the bottom spacious shelf is a sequence of four metal (silver) rotating trading card racks that make me think of rotating comic book racks (also called “revolving comic book racks”) except about one-fourth the size and with four tiers each. I am annoyed by the different tiers coming apart and some of the cards falling out onto the shelf and floor (though I do not question why I would have so many copies of the same card). I keep trying to fix everything up as the unknown male complains about his status in the background. I seem to have a slight empathy for him regarding his plight.