Uncategorized

Morning of April 19, 2015. Sunday.



This is my third longer dream connected with the “Supernatural” television show in recent months that I know of but is not as detailed or defined as the other two and deals more with the actors working on the show (I am present during the filming) rather than the characters they play.

This appears to be acknowledged as a script I had worked on, which was enhanced by the regular writers of the show. It involves Sam and Dean Winchester finding an antique highboy in a mansion and then knowing it is somehow connected with unexplainable events concerning a monster, which is believed to be a griffin. Dean makes a sarcastic remark something like “Can’t I just walk into a room and NOT find something like this?”

They find a secret drawer on the right-hand side that contains what looks like a factory hand restraint for a punch press though supposedly relates to some sort of medieval torture (and again, there is only one for some reason, not a pair). An older unknown male, seemingly a butler, approaches them and seems concerned about them touching the antique though does not seem emotional in any way. Supposedly, there are many more “secrets” inside the antique highboy.

After a time, it is realized that the “griffin” associated with the events and the antique furniture is actually a giant caterpillar that had been living in an underground cave near the mansion. This does not really make all that much sense because a caterpillar, giant or not, looks nothing like a griffin - although the griffin concept and connection may be based on documents and such and not actual sightings. There is not much drama, action, or resolutions of any kind to follow other than the vague idea that the monster may be shot by Sam without additional incident though it is possible it goes into hibernation. At one point later on, I am sitting at a table with other writers trying to come up with new plot threads. Jensen and Jared are laughing at some of the ideas.

As some sort of hypnopompic sequence, there is a rather dry but supposedly humorous conversation concerning the word “deaf”.

Sam: "Is it pronounced DEF or DEEF?“

Dean: "What’s the DIFF?”

Morning of April 18, 2015. Saturday.



I am living with my wife and children in a large unfamiliar apartment on the first floor of a large building in an unknown city. I get the clear impression that it is a dangerous area with a variety of different types of problematic people. It seems to be night for the most part. At one point, I am carrying around an oversize flintlock pistol and it seems to be a viable and realistic weapon (possibly a new gun based on the very old version). However, I do not need to use it at any point. Most of the problematic and rowdy people seem to be on another block presently, past the intersection from our street.

I eventually notice an extraordinary number of old cigarette butts on our sidewalk and continuing for a fair distance in the direction of the problematic area of the streets. This does not seem exactly like the previous fictional apartment in a recent dream, as it seems fairly large, though may also be on a corner. The setting towards the other direction of the street beyond our building is not very defined (in the opposite direction of where the majority of troublemakers are perceived to be) and even seems to be a “blind spot” of the setting where “nothing” exists (typical of some dream types). I walk a bit towards the intersection and as I do, I pick up several cigarette butts (though am not holding anything to put them in) and a couple other pieces of debris. I vow to eventually clean up the area but think about waiting until morning. However, I also get the clear feeling that if I clean up the whole sidewalk near our apartment building, people will become annoyed and come by to cause trouble or make it worse than it was before.

In the distance I see at least two rival biker gangs who appear to be yelling and fighting in the street but not in a violent manner (at least a small portion of the yelling seems to be friendly). People of all races are wandering about. Soon after this, I see a large army jeep going down the street, perpendicular to our street and going in a direction away from our location. Oddly, several adult males (including a male to the right of the driver) are standing up in the jeep as it goes by, all of them dressed in pristine early 1970s boy-scout uniforms (with shorts and of a pale green color). This creates a sort of unusual sense of completeness and balance (even though in afterthought they look a bit silly) and a slight awareness of presumed authority. I get the sense that they may be part of a formal neighborhood watch or something similar, though they do not stop anywhere in the area. My dream is clearest at this point but quickly fades.

Morning of April 17, 2015. Friday.



This was a flying and soaring dream with no drama or conflict, but which lasted a long time and is mostly just an exercise in flying over buildings and landscapes while feeling an enhanced sense of peace and joy. However, there is also a sense of certain “rules” related to continuous successful flight. One of these rules or perhaps safety tips is not to fly less than about four feet above the ground.

My wife is with me at certain points. There is a scene where I show positions in flight, one of which is a bit like swimming - and I even move my arms, though that is not during an actual flight - just some extraneous dream material, apparently, and a bit silly - as the actual flights do not involve such positions or movements at all. There is no point at which I become lucid, though it is quite vivid at some points. This dream has an entirely different mood than the ones where I take to the sky at night on my own and “live” in the late night air, continuously moving over the town (where there is no other human activity).

My second dream is one of those watching dreams where things are sometimes very realistic though sometimes change in odd, unlikely (or impossible) ways. This often involves looking down or looking at the floor more closely. In this case, I watch a large skink (a type of lizard) crawl across the cover of a book that is lying on the floor. I point it out to my wife. It is an interesting event as the lizard approaches me when I look towards it as if acknowledging my observation of it. I get a sense of dryness being an issue in this indoor environment and that the lizard may need water. I am sitting on the floor and holding a cup of water in my right hand and pour a small amount onto the carpet both near and onto the lizard’s head. Oddly, the lizard’s head sizzles as if a chemical reaction is occurring and little bubbles appear all around his head, especially the nose, and it seems to be suffocating though does not try to get away from the puddle. It seems I may have killed it by getting it wet or perhaps I had poured Coca-Cola instead of water. The lizard’s feet seem to be melting into the carpet and it does not move for a time.

Finally, it moves healthily from the sudsy area and comes closer to me and appears to be whole and uninjured. This time I pour water farther from its head and it manages to sip some up from the tiny puddle and the carpet fibers. From here, it crawls off to my left. A cat’s head soon appears to my left, at first seemingly interested in the water on the carpet, but I soon get the impression that the cat may catch and eat the lizard but this thought is not fully dominant (in fact, fairly passive in my dream state) and thus nothing actually happens (it is typical of dream-making states where vague thoughts or perspectives influence the dream’s outcome - even in completely non-lucid dreams as this one). The skink crawls off - strong and unharmed. It is possible that lizards sometimes represent similar symbolism as snakes - that is, human digestion and the large intestine, especially in this case where the chemical reaction reminded me of baking soda for when people use it to help with indigestion. It may relate to a concern about the acidic nature of some drinks.

Morning of April 14, 2015. Tuesday.





I never thought that I would be running around in a dream as Captain America and yelling “Avengers Assemble” numerous times (which I hear myself yelling quite clearly), though I am in this one, though as myself and proper ethnicity, apparently (and with my real-life name), not Steve Rogers. One would think that a dream this far removed from reality would have at least a trace of lucidity (or even a subtle degree of dream-making awareness), especially as it includes flying near the beginning, but such is not the case. Other than Captain America (I am the leader), there are about six others. My wife starts out as the Black Canary - which is actually DC, not Marvel (let alone an Avenger). Later, she is known to be the Black Cat (which is Marvel). There is one point where I am commenting on how beautiful her catlike eyes are - they do stand out with detail and beauty over every other feature of my dream at one point. The other Avengers in my dream are not actual Avengers for the most part other than I think Hawkeye and Iron Man (though they remain in the background and go off on their own at times).

About halfway through our adventures, on at least the second floor of a building, we find someone who wants to join us. It seems to be a male at first but he is only pretending to be a superhero in the sense of role-playing and his costume (mostly red and white) has a rather shoddy homemade look as well as his shield (which is irregularly shaped cardboard). Still, we welcome him into our group. He calls himself the Shield (an Archie Comics - Pep Comics character, not Marvel, though who came shortly before Captain America), and for some reason that sounds like a member of the Avengers, and he has a vertically rectangular shield in contrast to my round one. However, he has a bad limp in his right leg (apparently from birth) and can barely walk at times. Eventually, I see that “he” is actually a short-haired girl (or somehow changed into one over time - though the general appearance is the same). There is one point where I ask her if she wants the shield to be real and she says yes (which of course would be a good idea) and I simply nod my head and that act makes it real - and so now it is indestructible. We do have to support her (while she is walking) a couple of times, one on each side of her. (Oddly, I do not think to heal her leg.) It is likely that “she” and “shield” (”she hold”) are typical subtle in-dream transitional plays that I have experienced all my life.

I note my reflection in a window at one point, and it seems quite realistically detailed. At one point, two young males in beige trench coats in an alley fire machine guns at me but I hold up my shield and the bullets bounce off and kill both of them from the ricochets. The physical orientation and sense of touch seems quite enhanced as I hold the shield and I vividly feel the vibrations and sense of slight movement as I hold it.

Although I can fly, I do not later on while in costume, because I seem to remember that Captain America does not fly (truly weird dream “logic”). I do however fly near the beginning of my dream when I am not wearing a costume, though other people find this amusing and not unusual.

At one point in the last section, my wife goes to an area on her own for some sort of surveillance (in an alley in an isolated part of the city - the city of which is unknown, though some parts seem to take place in La Crosse) regarding a possible villain to see if it is safe or viable to go to a meeting they are having (though not directly related to our group). After this, we are all in a building on the third floor, I think. There are a couple businessmen on the first floor though I do not see them; I only hear the conversation and do not think it has much to do with us. For some reason, one of the members of my team (or possibly the implied villain - this is not definite) is experimenting with some sort of drug in the form of Kool-Aid or some such. I become extremely annoyed. In fact, I get so annoyed, I pick up their large refrigerator and fling it down the stairs. The overall detail and sound is amazingly realistic at this point. I consider this act as I watch the refrigerator go nosily down the stairs (the door opening and the contents spilling out) and even turn at the stairwell from the force of the throw, and am even aware that the businessmen have to move out of the way (though I do not see this happen). From here, I throw two other things down the stairs, including a cabinet and a storage box of some kind. It almost seems humorous. No one else reacts. I feel like throwing something else, but slowly wake.

Morning of April 12, 2015. Sunday.



This is a very atypical dream, and unlike most of my dreams, it is difficult to trace any reasonable associations or present-life relative context of any kind. Although it is impersonal and I do not seem a direct part of it, it is still somewhat stressful. For some reason, a younger unknown couple (male and female, not known if they are married) is in a basement or at least an area under the floor of some sort of small store. The room they are in is not big enough to stand in, probably only about three feet from floor to ceiling, thus the task must be completed while lying down.

An older unknown male brings a deer carcass into the store, although it is mostly the outer part. He puts it down into the “basement” and the woman is told that the skin must be ready by a certain time, probably about three hours, or they will both be killed (apparently shot with his rifle). Over time, with difficulty, the female finishes without any help from the male. There is a bit of conversation and drama though I do not recall all of it. I am present, but not physically uncomfortable in the small room, probably disembodied in my perspective, in some sort of abstract or ethereal form.

From here, the man releases them, seeming in a cheerful mood, and is then seen in a drastic scene-change in the Loomis Street backyard with the deerskin lying flat on the ground (though he is walking away from it, though may come back and get it later) and the couple remain uninjured. I get the sense that this was some sort of mean trick, as he had never planned to kill them.

The only thing I can even vaguely link to this is recently seeing a random tattoo show (I do not watch much television) where a female tattoo artist had to complete her jaguar tattoo, I think, but did not finish it (though was still not the one chosen to leave by the judges). It may be related to being forced to make warmer clothes for the coming winter to avoid becoming too cold (since it is seemingly taking place in Wisconsin), though that is only a guess. Other than that, it remains an impersonal atypical sequence.

Morning of April 12, 2015. Sunday.



This dream seemingly repeated at least once. I seem to be on Barolin Street. My wife is on a thinner mattress on the floor though it seems like we are just meeting for perhaps the first or second time and I perhaps live somewhere else. We end up kissing and sometimes rolling around and for some reason we are eventually laughing. There are several other people in the large room, perhaps her relatives. Her father (whom I never met in reality) seems to be at a stove on the opposite side of the room, though we are in the living room and there is another stove in the actual kitchen farther west of us. I completely ignore the others and nothing is said by any of them. I feel very happy and relaxed and even seem to feel healthier over time.

Eventually, there is music playing (though I do not recall a particular song). I notice that the (fictional) window in the kitchen on the southern side is open and I am aware that I should close it because the neighbors (in the halfway house) could hear the music - and I have a false memory that the annoying neighbors come to visit whenever they know anyone is home. When I close the window, it is much like the metal sliding setup in our present home in the front room, though much smaller and sideways (rotated ninety degrees) yet still seems somewhat like a sash window. The closing of the window feels very realistic.

In some sort of hypnopompic sequence, I see the silhouette of a tree (just after sunset or just before sunrise) with not many leaves, though it is heart-shaped.

Morning of April 11, 2015. Saturday.



Not much happens here. There is a pile of miscellaneous items on the bed, including handheld computer games, books (including board books for toddlers), a few small items of clothing, a few DVDs, and random toys - near the center, though not causing a problem for me as I am resting on the bed. I seem to have my eyes closed at times and yet can still search through the small pile, sometimes with my mind alone (without moving anything). Over time, the pile seems to change slightly as certain items appear or vanish. I am not even exactly sure what I am looking for, perhaps a particular book as I seem to remember a focus on a particular title which I do not remember. There is an abstract sequence where it almost seems relevant to what I am thinking; that is, I think of something not quite defined (such as an idea or phrase rather than an actual object), and it materializes but does not stay on the pile that long. Some of the items are actually completely abstract and hard to describe, sometimes with the property of being intangible and slowly sinking through other objects.

My dream becomes clearer before it ends, but only includes a scene where an unknown female brings her daughter into the room, declaring her to be “iconoclastic”, which I am not sure of the meaning of in-dream. I think about the possible meaning, though am associating incorrectly, as I think of the concept of being goddess-like, though it actually means “criticizing or attacking cherished beliefs or institutions”, though my dream did not seem to have any negative implications or feelings. I have had numerous dreams where words are used or established with wrong or “unintended” meanings, primarily due to the lack of conscious thinking and reasoning skills when unconscious, though, on the other hand, interesting and unique puns are sometimes established.

Morning of April 9, 2015. Thursday.



Not much occurs in this dream. My family and I are living back on Gellibrand Street in Clayfield (Brisbane area) where we have not been in years.

In my dream, the main rooms of the apartment (first bedroom, second bedroom, and kitchen) are duplicated (all but the porch, which remains in the middle) and mirrored so that there are seven rooms. This makes the additional kitchen the main entrance, I think. I do not really consider this oddity of layout. I am in the process of going through things to see if the house can be arranged better. The large sliding door cupboard we have (originally designed for an office and very heavy) is near the doorway of the original kitchen. I notice that over half of the books are large telephone books from different years. About half of those are for Sarasota, Florida and the other half for Brisbane (Australia) suburbs. I am a bit annoyed about the space they are taking up and plan on getting rid of them, but I do not focus on doing so at the time.

There is also something about finding crossword puzzles for my second-youngest son, but that idea does not really seem that feasible as I look at a few different ones, as I seem to realize that solving crosswords is not really educational (relative to critical thinking skills) and in fact, rather pointless, though not as pointless as the “find a word” puzzles (and all their variations of titular names), which I also notice now and then in some magazines, which are not even puzzles and where you just look at words within random letter patterns and circle them. I mostly just look around at random books and magazines. Some of the writing is rather sparse on some pages and not quite discernible.

One book I pick up has a comic-strip-like sequence of small photographs near the top of the page, mostly only of the back halves of various breeds of dogs (but from the side, all facing to the left). I continue to think about what books we can sell or give away (or just throw out). Perhaps it is a play on “Dog Tales (tails)”. I had just seen a rather odd section of a television show in real life (Dr. Harry), where it showed a large dog jumping up and humping someone’s leg and the commentary was something about the dog not being playful, but intending to show dominance (probably one of the strangest and more “Captain Obvious” things I have seen on that show).

Another book actually seems to be a virtual baby in two-dimensional form (though about several months old), though probably at 2:1 scale relative to the imagery on the pages. How the baby is - relating to its status, mood, or health, depends on what pages you turn in what order, I think - am not sure if there is an index or table of contents relative to this. There are several pages that just show the stomach which may represent various stages of breathing or to signify weight. The book does not make noise and seems to be on glossy paper (probably only about forty pages in all). Perhaps it is a play on “The Baby Book” (in this case, the baby being the book).

There are other unusual books with unusual features but I do not recall everything. Some of this may relate to reading about Charlton comic books recently, which were once so cheaply made, that the pages were all different sizes and with different page edges (such as straight or sawtooth-shaped edges, often mixed from page to page) as well as being of different thicknesses, sometimes almost like cloth.

Morning of April 4, 2015. Saturday.



In this dream, there is an airplane with two younger pilots that is landing on the streets of, I think, La Crosse (though as is often the case, something is rotated perpendicularly to its real placement, in this case, the parking garage area). The pilots are given instructions on what street to land on, though it seems to be a smaller passenger plane, though not with passengers, and the situation is not very realistic in terms of size orientation. (It is doubtful such a plane would be able to land on the street of a residential area, with or without cars parked on either side.)

I reflect with certainty on how the airplane, after landing, is then going to continue to coast, turn a bit to the left, and crash into the multi-storey car park (or “parkade”), which it soon actually does, about four blocks north (from where I am viewing the event), on the southeast corner of that block. At this point, my dream is similar to another recent crash dream (concerning the train derailment) where everything seems to move with impossibly slow speed. There is an unknown male (possibly an unidentified classmate from my middle school years) with me. We avoid the flying debris (which is unrealistic considering how far away the building is) by walking about half a block to the west, but as with my other dream, I choose to go back to where I was to continue watching. However, I am not threatened in any way, or hit by any flying bits of concrete as the building is still slowly breaking up (and “exploding outward in slow motion”) at the bottom only. I watch the building slowly collapse and at one point another identical building, more to the west, also seems to collapse (without any reason) and rebuild itself a few times over (which seems to have something to do with my in-dream thought continuity). At this point, I lose interest and slowly wake.

In a way, this seems associated with past dreams; one where I “froze” a tidal wave (though with the water’s energy still vividly cycling through the form) as well as one where easily I “froze” a nuclear explosion but of which was still very slowly unfolding, though with more than enough time to leave the area on a spacecraft.

---

Morning of April 2, 2015. Thursday.



I am sitting in the back seat (on the right side) of an unknown car which is facing north, in the central area of a parking lot of a medium-sized shopping center (probably near Shopko regarding the streets and general layout that appears later on). My wife is in the front seat but on the passenger side on the right (we seem to be in America in La Crosse, though she has never been there in reality). Over time, two unfamiliar younger light-haired males (that remind me vaguely of rock stars from the 1980s but are dressed informally) get in the car and then argue and physically fight (not that violent, just pushing each other around) over who is going to drive. Finally, they both get out without even seeming to notice either of us.

Soon, another young male gets into the car, which is somewhat of a surprise as I had decided I might drive us myself. The young male, wearing an unbuttoned denim jacket, reminds me vaguely of a young Lionel Richie though he seems completely unknown in-dream at the time. I ask him if he needs any money and he passively acknowledges that he does with a slight nodding. I give him two ten dollar American bills, although that amount seems embarrassingly small to give if he needs food for the day. Oddly, even though I am not at all lucid, I will them to change into two fifty dollar bills, which they do without much mental effort. I hand him the money and so he will then drive us to our next destination. He seems slightly tired and world-weary but is cheerful. (There is possibly a play on “Rich” here, as well as a focus on the “hello” vocalization of his song “Hello”.)

From here, my dream goes into a fairly rare state of me completely ignoring the implications of the environment as if I was not fully “in” my dream (even though I technically am, and fully in-body). There is some sort of nearly inaudible “music” that seems to be caused by “tidal waves” of lava coming from the west of Third Street (and me additionally expressing my illogical and unlikely boredom of the event with some sort of dull mental “humming” of a mostly static melody). The streets at this point seem elevated by about four feet by volcanic rock and streaming lava. We travel in the car through the lava and cooled volcanic rocks for several blocks without much difficulty (I seem to be “mentally driving” the car at this point for the most part even though the other male is still technically driving) even though “everything” else (including most of the commercial buildings) is being destroyed. Curiously, I am somewhat annoyed by the imagery but otherwise think nothing of it. My dream takes on a very dull and bland awareness and emotion at this point, but grows again in vividness and comfort in the next scene.

Eventually, we are at our house, possibly somehow now in Australia on Stadcor Street, though rotated ninety degrees westerly to the earlier established directions (overall layout) of Wisconsin. I notice that we do not have that much bread, though I am preparing to use some raisin bread (from about one-quarter a loaf left) to make a ham and cheese sandwich (as there is no other fresh bread). It seems the previous volcanic “tidal wave” and streets covered with both cooled and ongoing lava streams was so inconsequential I have already seemingly “forgotten” about it at that point in-dream. My family seems cheerful, though there is a slight awareness of how ridiculously expensive bread is as well as how it often does not even last a day or two without going moldy (and is sometimes already moldy in the store). There is also a slight awareness of how store shelves are growing more and more empty with less and less workers acknowledging customers and even a hint of reasonable service (at least in this region).

Morning of April 1, 2015. Wednesday.



My dream starts with continuing concerns and focused computer-related ideas from my waking life, though I am not lucid at all. It concerns one of the real and weirder flaws in the Internet, primarily Google in this case, which astoundingly, no one at all seems to have noticed over the years. It concerns some sort of inversion glitch, whereby what you search for displays the opposite data depending on how it is done, with incomplete listings. For example, Google will claim that, for a particular newspaper, certain editions are not available and with access to the ones that are. I took screenshots of this since I doubt most people would even be capable of believing this. If you go into the same archive with a different method (or link), the opposite of what was previously claimed (in every case) will result. This remains in my mind just prior to sleep for a few reasons; one reason being that I had forgotten the exact method to reverse the inversion error to the opposite listing and one method was no longer viable; the other reason being that it is hard for me to believe so many thousands of people are so lacking in awareness over such a long time. However, the newspaper archive itself is much a mess, with random pages of newspapers within other editions and wrong dates often being listed. Still, with close attention, it is useful for my research and dream work documentation to a point (relative to my earlier childhood work).

Later on in my dream, an unknown female from the department of education visits us. The house seems completely unfamiliar though is possibly some sort of composite with rotated room layouts. I go into the room where my computer is and notice that it had seemingly been left on apparently overnight. Its appearance is quite different and it is a desktop rather than a tower. The front of it is some sort of transparent corrugated-like reflective surface which seems to light up (from the inside) with orange bars if it is on. A bright green light also supposedly indicates it is on (as in reality, though it is smaller and square and higher up - on my real tower it is near the bottom). However, after looking more closely, the power light is never actually on. The appearance of the light being on has to do with where I am looking at it from a particular area of the room. Regardless of the brighter light, walking about into different areas seems to make it go on and off, but what I learn is happening is solely related to reflections from another light source, possibly outside sunlight (though I am not sure). This scene is very vivid and rather strange because it really does seem like the power light is on at times. After playing with this apparent illusion for a fair amount of time, I leave the room.

The female from the department of education has my form templates and some apparent worksheets but when I go to look at them, it turns out to be a clothing catalog (with a few smaller pages within the normal-sized pages, one featuring a girl playing on a swing in blue jeans). Not all of the pages make sense as it is. Because I “must” use this as part of the education progress report, I contemplate how I am going to arrange certain sentences and such between different scenes that feature different clothing, some outside.

Soon after this, a rear column for the (fictional) canopy that for some reason is over the sofa she is sitting on starts to buckle. I go to check what is wrong, but she gets up out of concern for heavy weight falling on her due to some books and board games on the top of the canopy as well as some on a higher shelf on the wall (though I believe someone else warns her about it, possibly my youngest or second-youngest son). I notice fancy curtains hanging from the canopy (like on a canopy bed) and hanging down (but tied back to each column, looking rather regal) at the sides and front of the couch. Looking closely, I see that the column, which is mainly a hollow plastic beige cylinder, is both warped (as they are in reality in almost every cheaper bookshelf) mostly at the top and becoming smaller, tapering off to about half the diameter and oddly bent near the end for a short distance. The column is so warped, a part near the top is almost L-shaped, yet I still somehow manage to fit it back into the underside circular recess of the canopy (which would be impossible unless I somehow bent it back - yet it somehow seems to work as is regardless). By that point however, my two youngest sons are climbing over the couch and are taking down heavier books and board games to lessen the overall weight even though it is probably safer for now.

Morning of March 27, 2015. Friday.



The first part of my dream is mostly incoherent and is an abstract hodgepodge involving the slide in my old elementary school’s playground (though facing the opposite direction as it did in reality - east instead of west - something dreams do often), something related to someone doing laundry, and some sort of table of a fair number of “names” that are not actually names but some sort of five-character combination of numbers and letters for the most part that seems to be related to “signing in”, perhaps to use the slide. I focus on how, when the new slide was first installed in the playground (in reality), a line of students as long as the street resulted in the morning (seemingly every student in the school in fact), thus not everyone got to go on the slide if they were farther back in line. After several days though, the novelty wore off, and there was no longer a line.

My dream shifts into a more defined state. I am in the living room in our present home on W Street. I notice that the couch has about six levers sticking out from the bottom that are much the same as wooden organ pedals. However, they also work like organ stops in that they pull out or push in a short distance. In turn, this seems to function in a manner of a combination lock.

By way of a false memory, I manipulate a particular sequence of these wooden stops in a certain order - knowing that money will somehow materialize inside the bottom of the couch in the boxlike storage area if the right pattern is implemented (like a combination lock/password composite). After I do this, I lift the seat up and see that there is a stack of fifty-dollar bills (Australian) near the middle area, nearly six inches high a stack. I look through them to make sure it is “real”. Although the money is “made” somehow, it is still the same as “real” money - or possibly teleported from somewhere else (though I do not get the impression it is stolen). Even though I am not lucid, a subtle part of me knows that I am making my dream (as is often the case, even as a child) and so I am focused on the “reality” of the imagery of the money, which at times, seems rendered incorrectly (the bills seem to have features of both American and Australian fifty dollar notes at certain points). However, this neither bothers me nor triggers a “closer” lucidity (as it probably should) and my dream fades from here, whereas I get the feeling that the money will automatically be “correct” (correctly rendered) in the long run - though by the time I ponder upon that, I am already mostly awake.

Morning of March 22, 2015. Sunday.



This dream has seeming semiconscious self-directed events (the usual unexplained “magical” abilities) even though I have no level of lucidity, though that is somewhat typical of certain dream types.

I find myself in Tunisia for some reason (likely because it was in the news recently). I am sitting on a bench in a public area (which faces the street) that reminds me vaguely of a street in Arcadia where I used to sit on a bench with my mother. In particular, it was where I first looked through the first volume of the adult-oriented “Man, Myth & Magic” encyclopedia which my mother had ordered for me when I was only ten. I remember a page with a macabre photograph of an unwrapped mummy, which may have significance in why this location is featured at the beginning of my dream (due to the main part involving a cemetery as well as corpses). To my left are two other benches, each about a bench length apart. One man on the farthest bench is arguing with another man. Both seem Middle Eastern and seemingly military or paramilitary. The man who is complaining about the other has a weapon. The man being yelled at is standing closer to the business building. On the next bench over from me is another unknown male who may be in a different military organization. He is pointing a machine gun at the man who is yelling (who is not aware of him). Soon, he actually shoots him, though this act does not really seem previously planned or warranted by his supposed small troop.

Even though I do not feel threatened, I decide to leave the area immediately. Another unknown younger male, possibly military, joins me. We end up going to a Middle Eastern family’s home to get ready to go to America to escape any repercussions caused by the man being shot. It seems I may be in danger by association, that is, because I was in the same area as the shooting at the time as well as having lived in America. (This idea probably comes from a vague association with “Tower Block” from 2012, seen just hours before, though did not involve foreign concerns.) This is explained to me by a Middle Eastern female who lives at the house. There is also a younger boy. Oddly, I decide I will leave (with the other unknown man) through an area in the backyard that is all fenced in and filled with chicken hutches and other small buildings and various equipment - in order to leave the area as quickly as possible. This does not seem possible at first and the other man wants to leave via a less safer side entrance to the house. However, even though I am not lucid, I have an inherent ability to go through solid objects and quickly teach the other male how to do this. We go into and through the house’s outer wall and then the fenced-in area (and all the hutches and such within as well as straight through the wire fence itself) and somehow also immediately end up in America, oddly enough. No teleportation is directly implied even though we are now on the other side of the world. I feel safer even though I have apparently been identified as a witness to the shooting by a hostile group.

I am soon in a building that adjoins a large cemetery. This building seems to have both the groundskeeper for the cemetery and a police station, as well as an office related to foreign affairs or international crises and a politics-themed library. At this point, I also seem to work for the police or military or as a private detective. I look out a large window and notice a pile of rubbish next to the outermost tombstone, about the size of one grave site. A female police officer tells me that the pile of rubbish is actually a small dump on land that was purchased by several members of the public - thus they decided to use it as a dump instead of a grave site.

Eventually I notice unusual but vivid imagery. Just before, all the headstones were perpendicular to the window I am looking through. Now they are all suddenly facing the window. Not only that, I am somehow viewing each headstone as being “above” the previous (all about the same size) even though that is not possible relative to my location and perspective. There are at least three implied headstones in a “column” even though this “column” is artificially representing a flat landscape in totally false perspective where the headstones would otherwise be behind and beyond each prior one. The common visual wrongness and ridiculous screwed-up perspectives (as well as typically bizarre composites of locations, people, objects, and even emotions) in dreams still fascinates me after almost fifty years of dream work nearly as much as dreams where most everything is rendered with incredible realism, including literally visually precognitive and validated remote viewing layers.

I eventually notice that each headstone has a large holographic display on its face (as an implied “window” into the otherwise flat headstone) where it seems that you are looking into the coffin from just above the soles of the feet of the deceased. However, each view has two people. The deceased person is to the left of the view and one of their at-the-time living friends or relatives is rendered as lying next to them to the right in this view. The first headstone displays two unknown males, the “middle” headstone shows a boy and apparently an older brother, and the “bottom” one shows an older man with a beard and a male friend or relative. I can tell which ones are the deceased because their eyes seem painted on. The holographic image was rendered from a template where the deceased’s friend or relative was originally photographed lying next to them. This almost seems like some sort of futuristic trend regarding cemeteries. However, I also get the impression that the left half of the view is in real time with a camera within the coffin. This would mean that part of the view would eventually show decay and skeletal remains if such is the case.

From here, the female police officer (who is seated behind some sort of L-shaped counter in the corner of the room) is talking with another officer. The other officer seems to have more authority and is an older male, possibly working additionally with a diplomatic group. There is concern that there is a small bomb (about the size and shape of a Velveeta cheese box) in one of the drawers of a crypt in another location, about the fourth up. This bomb may destroy the whole region. However, I do not feel that much concern for my safety. The rectangular bomb is featured in red on some sort of radar-like display on a large monitor in the room and is also somewhat x-ray-like into the crypt.

Morning of March 18, 2015. Wednesday.



My wife’s mother comes to our house and it seems her youngest half-sister is also here with her (likely being the one who drove her here in her car). Of course, we do not open the door or respond at first. There are a few different points where the door is not rendered correctly and has a wider gap at the bottom. This gap is big enough to see a person’s face when they have the side of their head pressed against the floor on the other side of the door, which is what happens at least twice in my dream. My wife’s youngest half-sister seems so much older and mean-looking that I first mistake her for her mother. Her features and expression are disturbing, though my mood and energy level does not make this a nightmare.

At one point, her mother puts something under the door. At first, it seems to be a greeting card or letters, but the view changes to seeing at least three paintbrushes. There is an awareness that the paintbrushes should not be placed in the mouth or tasted or even touched at all because of who they had belonged to. (This may come from a very old memory of possibly an episode of “Dragnet” or another crime show where a painter implied to be on drugs puts the paintbrush in his mouth as if to suck the paint off - for some reason, this scene stuck in my memory as a child).

Eventually, I end up yelling at them through the closed door but it is not as intense as it could be. Meanwhile, my wife is talking casually to the police on the telephone, though we do not have a restraining order against her mother or youngest half-sister though I mention getting one. (It would not matter anyway, as restraining orders in this town mean nothing, as my wife’s sister had one against the mother in reality - and it proved to be useless.)

Morning of March 17, 2015. Tuesday.



There is a big ritualistic Christmas celebration that is mostly being held in a very large old building (somewhat like a composite of church and theater), and it is apparently near Christmas in my dream. I am there with my family, but things change over time. In order to be a part of it, one must wear a Santa outfit, though that seems more like willful participation rather than a rule. I am aware that my youngest son’s Santa outfit has possibly been mistakenly taken by someone. I cannot find mine, either. However, I do believe his is found and worn but I do not find mine. It seems mine may have been deliberately taken by a younger female who is part of a smaller group of about six disruptive people. There are some arguments and an attempt to find my suit and to catch one of them with it but I become so annoyed that I decide to leave the celebration. However, when I first try to leave the building I end up going to corners and walls that have no doors. One area is mostly of over-sized and seemingly very old concrete blocks, both floor and walls, and I do not see an exit anywhere. I walk past a parade to another area of the building, but I try to stay out of the group due to not having a Santa suit.

Eventually, there is a front door (which seems more like that of a house to the left of a large window that looks like part of a small store) that a young Japanese male apparently helps me find. He says something to me about the celebration but an older male near the door starts mocking the way he is speaking and pretends to speak Japanese (this was done to me throughout my childhood even though I have no Asian ancestry - taught me a lot about the “intelligence” of mainstream society). "This is the way they always are,“ I say, "they will never change.” We then start walking west down the sidewalk towards my older sister Marilyn’s house as once again, I am not aware of where I presently live in real life. However, I begin to realize that both Marilyn and Carol had died but I then contemplate the King Street boarding house. I believe my mother is still alive even though she had died in reality long before two of my older sisters (recurring in-dream false memory).

I decide that the boarding house is probably not a good place to go (even though I seem to “remember” that I live there or have some belongings there) and instead, find myself entering a very large hotel from a side entrance. I walk up the steps to the second floor and am on my own at that point. I go into a large room just off a large hall, which seems like the place I will be living at least for a time. There are several other people around, some formally dressed in business suits, but I am guessing they will eventually leave when I decide to sleep. A man, possibly the hotel manager, comes over to collect the fee, which is two hundred dollars for four days. I see four Australian fifty dollar bills in my wallet (even though I am apparently in America) and give it all to the man, figuring I have enough time to work out where I will go from here. (For some reason though, the last fifty is only good for half a day.)

I decide to sit down on a comfortable-looking armchair (another unknown male is sitting in a very similar armchair off to my left) but I fall through the cushion and notice that the armchair is broken in a few places (though there are some random hardcover books and notebooks stacked within the chair’s frame and on the floor that were partly holding up the cushion at chair seat level - I am not sure if they are mine). Having fallen to the floor, remaining seated, I then notice that the carpet is incredibly dirty and torn in some areas and notice other details that seem to indicate that the room has never been cleaned or anything repaired. I watch a cat walking away from where I am, seeing on its back a couple extremely large fleas, at least one large louse, and a couple ticks, all nearly an inch long and bulging from their feeding; somewhat teardrop-shaped. I do not consider the unrealistic nature of the scene. From here, my dream eventually fades, but I soon realize that paying only fifty dollars a day for lodging, I cannot expect anything decent.