Blue_Opossum

Morning of January 26, 2018. Friday.



I become aware of being in the living room of the Cubitis house. (No threads of my present conscious self identity are extant at this time.)

My father is alive and as he was in the 1960s. I have no recall of his death in 1979. He is standing near the north end of the living room. I am sitting closer to the kitchenette.

A television is on for a short time. It shows a group of teenagers yelling and going into a school building. “I never really liked school,” I tell my father, “I would have rather gone to a labor camp, chopping wood or laying bricks.” My father seems passive but expresses mild interest in what I am saying. Eventually, I decide that this is not entirely true, as I did not mind elementary school so much. (This is mainly a result of the typical failure of viable memories in the dream state. I did not really dislike school as much as my fictional dream self implies here. It seems to be a reference to when I actually did chop wood, use a fence pole digger, and help build a fence instead of going to middle school for a short time, when the “outdoor classroom” was first being designed and built in Florida.)

Eventually, I get the impression that I can influence the movement of the curtain on the east window, closest to the kitchenette. Although I am not lucid, I start to notice that the curtain responds directly to what I say aloud (similar to how a real-time scripted dream works, and yet, again, there is no lucidity at any point). My father goes to the southwest bedroom as I remain in the living room. After I am sure I am controlling the curtain, I call to him to show him what I can do, but I do not see him. The situation is interesting but somewhat eerie. “Up to the ceiling,” I say, and the curtain obeys, swaying and moving to become flat against the ceiling. “Twist around,” I say, and the curtain twists itself around. “To the right,” I say, and the curtain slowly moves toward the kitchenette. I do this about twenty times, with at least five different instructions, and they always work.

I become distracted by a noise in the backyard. Looking out, I notice a tidal wave, all along the eastern horizon, approaching from a distance. It seems to be nighttime, but I can see the whiteness of the high foamy wave.

“Tidal wave, there is a tidal wave coming,” I yell. I do not see my father come out, but I am trying to warn him. Soon, the tidal wave hits the house. I can feel the house shake. I see and feel water coming in through the east windows. It flows quickly throughout the living room and my bedroom, and yet there is no direct impact of water on my body, only some cool refreshing splashes. Still, I yell, seeing that several high stacks of paper with documented dreams, under my bed, are apparently soaked, and I slowly recall Zsuzsanna’s dream journals as well. There is wetness, but no indication of flooding over the floor at this point.

I yell in annoyance just as I hear Zsuzsanna and our children on the carport. I get the impression that they had just returned from shopping or the library. Zsuzsanna calls out to me, wondering what is going on. There is no indication that the tidal wave had affected their approach to the house, or that they had even seen it (which of course is ludicrous if one wants to force logic on dreams where none exists).

She and our children walk through the front door. “Everything is wet,” I say loudly. “Not everything?” Zsuzsanna asks hopefully. “Everything,” I confirm. I wake at this point, with Zsuzsanna standing near our bed in reality and our youngest daughter nearby. I am somewhat confused as to whether our oldest daughter is in the area since she had been in my dream, though I do not see her.

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This dream is partly a beautiful connection to a fully lucid childhood dream, “The Staged Bull” from 1971 (as well as several other dreams). Both dreams use curtains as the division between the dream self and the conscious self and the perceived danger of RAS (as the waking alert factor), familiar autosymbolism for the waking transition. In this dream, my subliminal focus on reinduction brings a tidal wave (also a circadian rhythms factor) rather than the usual passive connection to water rising at the beginning of most sleeps. (This is also an association with the indoor rain we had in real life after our roof was torn off, though in reality, our dream journals did not get wet.) The typical doorway waking symbolism is utilized by RAS here, with no recall that Zsuzsanna had never been to America, let alone Cubitis (and as I have written before, I believe this is to prevent dream memories from being mistaken as having real-life meaning other than when prescient). My father wanders off to a bedroom (dream state indicator) and my control of the curtains seems like an amazing breakthrough in adding one more thread of dream knowledge in validating the autosymbolic meaning they entail. (Both autosymbolism for liminal space division and an association with control of the dream state as an implied stage, which also has curtains, yet also has the association with stage of sleep.) In previous dreams, I had chosen to “freeze” tidal waves and nuclear explosions in order to sustain the dream state and make it last for ten to fifteen additional minutes.

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