non-lucid

There is a some sort of family gathering in a small house. I think it is my grandma's old house, but I am not sure. There are many people , some I recognize as members of my family, and some that do not resemble any person I know in waking life. There only seems to be three rooms; the kitchen, the living room, and the basement. The kitchen does not have a table or chairs but there is a green sofa against one of the walls. The living room is sparse as well and only has a white loveseat and a large screen television. Needless to say, most of the people in the house were standing as they socialized.

There were some people in the kitchen preparing food and some people standing around with drinks. I was in the kitchen but I was not preparing food or drinks, nor was I socializing. I didn't want to be there and I felt very tired and bored. I sit down on the green sofa, curl up on one end and start to drift off to sleep. I can hear my dad come into the room and everyone starts asking him what's wrong with me, as if they can sense the fact that I don't want to be there. I cannot hear exactly what my dad is saying except that he is going around the room and apologizing to everyone.

I wake up when I feel someone sit on the other end of the sofa. I sit up and see that it is Uncle Doug. He is making rude and offensive jokes about women and everyone in the room (which I notice at this point is all male) laughs along with him. I am disgusted but I cannot think of anything to say. Uncle Doug turns to me, grabs my arm and asks if I am "cool" with the jokes he is telling. I scream at him not touch me and to stuff his misogyny up his ass. He gets embarassed and apologizes and asks if I am offended, and even though I am, for some reason I say no.

Everyone starts to head down stairs and I get up off the green sofa so that it can be carried into the basement. I start washing dishes because I am too pissed off to talk to anyone. Dinner is being served in the basement and everyone is down there, but I refuse to join them because I still feel raw about the incident with Uncle Doug.

I climb up on the kitchen counter and look out the window, but instead of seeing a backyard at groud level, the view is from several storeys up and I am looking down upon what appears to be a train station. There are many people walking around or just standing on the boardwalk as a passenger train very slowly pulls out of the station. Out of the corner of my left eye I see a frieght train appear out of nowhere and slam into the back of the passenger train at a great speed. I watch in horror as the frieght train cars pile up on each other and onto the boardwalk, violently crushing some of the people who had been standing there. I feel helpless because I cannot do anything but neither can I look away, even as people continue to be crushed and mangled by the crashing trains.


Then the vividness of the terror and sheer graphic nature of the train crash woke me up.

I dreamed that I was back in grade six. The classroom was empty except for me and the teacher Ms. M. For some reason I was naked and all embarassed about it, but there was nothing around I could cover up with. Ms. M told me to stop being so worried because she had seen other naked women before. I was all wierded out by her comments and even more so when I noticed that she was wearing only a white Victorian style nightgown. There was something happening in the hall outside of the classroom but I cannot remember any more of this dream.

20.07.2007

(Non-lucid)

NON-DREAM DREAM LUCID

There is a sandy island or archipelago off the coast of a mainland. The population isn't very large. Life used to be normal there. Now, a few generations later, people don't know about the sun. There is only the sky, which sometimes is very dark with stars, and sometimes is light enough to see. But they don't make a distinction between day and night, there is only "the sky".
A visitor is surprised at this and finds out that it is actually the mainland people who, in order to punish the islanders for some reason, years ago, modified the orbit of their planet so that the islanders could never see the sun, while the mainlanders could still enjoy a low sun. The visitor put things back right, and the islanders, many of whom where on the beach, facing the mainland (which is too far to be seen), are amazed at the appearance of this light ball and the heat that is emitted from it. I am one of them, and I take off my jumper (but keep my yellow tee-shirt) to go swim in the sea.

20.07.2007

(Non-lucid)

NON-DREAM DREAM LUCID

A man and me (unconscious of being me) leave a pub at night. There is a fight with a werewolf, as there is a full moon, and the authorities come and arrest him.
I tell the man (that I haven't known for a very long time) that I am a werewolf too. He asks why I haven't changed into a werewolf, and I explain that there must be some trigger: anger, fear, an emotional of physical shock... He takes me in his car and suggests taking me away from the authorities (which are seen as somewhat threatening).
I fall asleep, and I have a vision of him waking me up by tapping my arm, and that it will trigger my lycanthropy.

This dream take place somewhere in a middle eastern country but I do not know which one. The area was very poor and all the buildings were made of local materials, like mud bricks.


I am about quarter of a kilometer outside of a small poor city. It is about midday and very hot. The atmosphere is arid and no vegetation of any kind can be seen. Clusters of people in varying degrees of Islamic or Western clothing surround me. Some people are sitting, some laying down, some standing, but no one moves very much or talks loudly. Everyone is of Middle Eastern decent except for a small group of people with whom I am following. I do not recognize anyone at first and they slowly make their way towards the city in the distance.

Several men from outside the group are staring at me with angry or contemptuous expressions and I uncomfortably look around to try an figure out why. I soon realize that all the women I see are covered up with burkas or hijabs, save for the two or three non-Middle Eastern women in the group I am with. I get the impression that I am the only one being stared at and I lower my gaze though I am angry and frustrated that people are staring at me.

When the group of people I am with are nearing the small city, someone from behind me says that we should avoid going there because American soldiers are about to initiate a fight with some insurgents. I cannot see who said that and the group of people continue on their way, even when I hesitate. Some tall building near the center of the city suddenly explode and sand and debris flys everywhere. I can hear bombs and gunfire but am not scared. I remember feeling more annoyed then anything.

I head back out into the desert where the dream started and suddenly it is nighttime and I am back with the group of people I had been following before. This time however, my mom and dad are with the group and we are being lead by a tour guide somewhere. The group stops for a moment under a large wooden frame, on the egde of what looks like a dry creek bed. There is a wooden billboard that is half standing and half collapsed and a young boy in a white shirt and red baseball cap that is climbing over it. Tangled barbed wire fence separates the group I am with from the creek bed, but I find a spot that I can jump over without getting caught or cut on the barbs.

I start toward whats left of the billboard because I want to climb too, but my mom stops me and tells me that I have to stop acting out and behave or I am going to get kicked out of the group. I reluctantly and begrudgingly rejoin them just as the tour guide leads us between some more indescernable wooden structures until we reached a tall, elaborate building with a large tower in the center. I get the impression that it was a mosque or something but I am not sure.

The tour is stopped and everyone is interrogated one by one by several men in clerics robes. I cannot remember why we were being questioned or what the questions were, but if we answered "correctly" then we were allowed to continue on with the tour. When I was being questioned I kept my head down and did not make eye contact with anyone. I figured that there was no way these men would allow me to continue on because my face was uncovered and every man in the room was staring at me because of it.

They did let me go on, however, and I immediately led up the narrow spiralling staircase of the central tower. The stair went up about six or seven stories and the entire way was intricately handpainted with natural scenes. At the very top of the stairs was a circular room that looked like an art store. There were display cases containing paintbrushes all around the outside and a Middle Eastern woman in the center giving away free art supplies. She was uncovered, dressed in blue, very pleasant and greeted my parents warmly. I noticed at this point that no one else in the group had been let into the tower. I was intrigued with an elaborate painting that encircled the entire room and studied it intently as my parents and the woman in blue talked. When the woman tried to offer my father some paintbrushes, he told her to give them to me because I was the artist in the family.


I do not remember anymore because I woke up.

This dream starts off on some sort of island. There is one small town near the north side of the island, but it is a very poor slum. Most of the houses are small trailers or huts that are dirty and barely standing. The town is surrounded by a temperate forest and the entire island is elevated several meters above the sea level. Because there are only steep cliffs along the sea sides, crudely constructed wooden piers and ladders have been built to allow access to the water. It is never explained why or by who, in the dream, but the little island is subject to frequent air raids.


I am standing outside of my hut/trailer and I am looking at the clear blue sky. I can hear an air raid siren blaring through the town, and even though I can not see where the sound is coming from, I know what it means. I can see black dots in the distance and they are rapidly approaching the island. Everyone in the town is scrambling to find shelter, most heading for the forest because they know that the slum town is the target of the on coming attack. I run into the forest also, but still feel exposed being so close to the town and head for the closest pier on the seafront. I am hoping to escape the attack by boat.

When I am at the outside edge of the forest (at a cliff that overlooks the sea) and I can see the on coming attack planes. There are about 12 of them and they are flying in a diamond formation. Most of the planes look like WW2 bombers, while two or three look like sea planes. All of them are painted entirely black except for the wing tips which are painted bright red.

I am afraid that I will be seen and scramble down the cliff side and underneath the long wooden pier. I remember that the wood of the pier was dark brown and smelled like it was rotting. The planes suddenly decend rapidly, break formation and start bombing everything in sight that is moving. My plans of escape by boat are thwarted when several people attempting a similar escape in their watercraft are obliterated by the attack planes before they can get very far. The very end of the long pier I am hidding under is blown apart by a bomb and I am too afraid to move from my spot.

I cannot see what is happening to the town but I can hear a constant barage of bombs, planes wizzing close by and screams from people in the forest behind me. To my right I suddenly see one of the sea planes land in the water and come towards the pier that I am hiding under. I panic and try to climb up the cliff but it is suddenly muddy and I slip down and into a large cravat. There is an outcropping of the cliff that I can hide under and I do so.

While still aware of the sea plane coming towards me, I feel something hard in the mud below me and thinking it is a rock, I dig it out. It turns out to be translucent yellow stone about the size of my fist. It's not shiny and cut but I think it is jewel and I put it in the pocket of my tattered pants. I try to adjust my weight in the mud underneath the outcropping but doing so causes me to slip out from my hiding place. I grab onto something that I think is a stick to steady myself and discover that is a cylindrical, translucent red stone. There are actually three of them sticking out of the mud but I only grab one and stick it in my other pocket.

The sounds of the air raid have stopped, though I can still hear several bombers flying overhead. The sea plane reaches the wooded pier and because I think I can be seen I make another attempt to climb up the muddy cliff. I am successful this time and dash into the forest. I do not look back and see the face of the enemy. The forest is thick with smoke from things burning and I am quickly lost. I run towards where I think the town is and trip on several bodies or body parts. I do not see anyone alive along the way.

I do eventually find the town but the damage doesn't seem to be as bad as I thought it would. My home has been destroyed and I scurry between burning ruins and debris until I find a trailer that is elevated off the ground with cinder blocks. I crawl underneath the trailer and dig a small hole. I rip off a peice of my shirt and wrap the yellow and red stones in it, which I then bury, believing that they are valuable or will be useful to me later. I remain hidden under the trailer, even after I can no longer hear any bombers flying overhead.

People start emerging from the forest and return to the town. I don't know any of them nor do I feel anything for them. Even at the beginning of the dream I felt very detatched from the other people in the town. I watch from my hiding place as people try to find anything valuable to salvage or their loved ones. I am chased from my hiding spot when the owner of the trailer returns and yells at me to get lost, probably thinking that I was going to try and move into his place or something. I make a mental note to retrieve the stones later.

I don't know if it is the next day or later in the week but the dream skips ahead a bit and I am talking with someone in the middle of the slum, most of which is still smoldering ruins. There are a few people trying to rebuild but many people don't see the point since they know the island will probably be bombed again in the near future. The young man I am talking to says that there is a man who lives in a cave on the other side of the island who grants wishes or something to anyone who brings him rare or precious items. I remember my yellow and red stones (having forgotten them until now, apparently) and wait until night to try and dig them up.

Thankfully the stones are still there and I make my way along the island's outer edge to try and find the cave. The full moon is large and supplies ample lumination for me to find my way. The muddy cliffs give way to icy formations that are just as difficult to traverse. I slip several times and almost drop my stones in the sea, which seems to have gone calm to violent and frothing the farther I get from the slum town. The sea is also freezing and I assume that is why the cliff face is covered in ice.

I feel like I have been walking forever, and indeed the sun starts to rise before I see the cave in the distance. The icy cliff gives way to sand, but not before I pluck a peculiar looking stone from the frigid ice. It is similar to my yellow and red stones, being translucent and about fist size, but is a bright blue. I put it in with the others and continue on my way. I am happy to reach the sand because it is warm and soft, though I have to avoid being sweapt away by large waves that are crashing onto the beach. The tide must be coming in or something because even when I walk directly away from the sea, the waves still reach my feet no matter how far inshore I go.

What looked like a cave from a distance now looks like a large door made of gold and encrusted with shining jems. There are gold and silver gears and chains surrounding it and there does not seem to be a door handle. I think at first that it is some sort of puzzle but before I can get much further in my thoughts, the gears start turning, the chains squeak and the door swings open. It is all dark inside and I cannot see anything at first, but with the sea level rapidly rising behind me, I do not hesitate to go inside.

I am exhausted and cold and am hoping that this journey has not been in vain. I feel my way through the dark until I find a wooden door. I open it and am stunned by what I see behind it. It looks like a standard, modern day home (kitchen to my right, living room dead ahead, bedroom to my left), but everything is made of precious material and jewels. The walls are solid gold, the light fixtures are made of crystal, the carpet under my feet is soft and luxuriant. I am appauled by the excess of the place, thinking of the utter poverty and slum conditions in which my town on the other side of the island exists.

As I walk towards the large high ceiling living room. A tall, handsome, muscular man (in his late 20s/early 30s) comes out of no where and greats me. A woman appears by his side and offers to make me some tea. She seems kind of "empty," and does not even look directly at me. She is forcing a smile. I can not see them, but I can hear children playing somewhere. Still overwhelmed by the opulance of the place I forgot what I had come for, even thought I still clutched the stones closely to my chest. Despite their apparently welcoming demenor, I do not feel safe because everything feels "fake."


The dream ends there.

This dream takes place in was a normal looking town except that there are no people around and the sky is perpetually overcast. There was a lake or river or something that the town was situated on and the water was always choppy and murky. I appeared as my dream incarnate Kalima and was wearing a lavender coloured dress, a grey hooded cloak, and had red hair.


I was travelling with Gandalf the White, Legolas, Frodo and old Bilbo Baggins, and two other figures whom I can no longer remember. We were trying to make our way through the abandoned town but it was very dangerous because there were orcs and an assortment of other monsters roaming around. According to Gandalf the White, we were looking for some sort of portal that would take them back to Valinor.

I had a bit of magic, but the world we were in didn't follow the "standard" metaphysical rules and whenever Gandalf or I tried to cast a spell, the results would not be as expected. Eventually the group had to rely on brute strength to fight the monsters we came across, which left me at a major disadvantage because I had neither the physical strength nor a weapon to defend myself with.

The group and I went down one tree lined road and came across yet another group of monsters. During the fight, I hung back and hid between some houses while the men fought. I don't remember seeing exactly what happened, but at some point Legolas' bow broke and he abandoned it. I lagged behind the group and picked up the bow. I scratched some runes into bow and it became a lightning whip. I caught up to the group as they encountered yet another group of monsters in a park filled with willow trees. When I used the whip, it cracked like thunder and scared the monsters away.

The men went on their way without even looking at me and I did not follow this time. I wandered into a small, white house and found a group of children huddling in the basement. This surprised me because I thought that the town had been abandoned. The kids said that they were hidding from the lightning and thunder and I tried to explain that it was only my magical whip.


I cannot remember how they responded because I woke up.

Mom, Aunt Jenny, six-year old neice Miranda and I are going up huge, snowy mountain. I think my Dad, brothers and cousin Peter are there but they stay at the foot of the mountain for some reason. There are three plateaus where climbers can stop and rest, or catch a red tram that goes from the foot of the mountain to a chalet at the second plateau. There is a stop at the first plateau where people can take a bathroom break in a facility that has been carved into the mountain side.

My mom and Aunt Jenny go on ahead while I am left with Miranda to walking up the first part of the mountain (which is also the least difficult). At the first plateau we have a quick rest and watch people getting on and off the tram before continuing on our way. Because the mountain becomes dramatically steeper, there are stairs cut into the side of the mountain to assist people who decide to walk up. We are almost at the second plateau when Miranda slips and begins to slide down the mountain side. I throw myself after her and act as a human sled so that she will not be hurt. We slide all the way back down to the first plateau on our butts (well, my butt actually). Miranda thinks it is great fun but I am sore and frustrated.

It is very late in the afternoon and soon it will be dark, so rather than waste our time trying to climb again, we agree to take the tram. We quickly go to the bathroom (we only have two minutes before the tram leaves), get on and ride it up to the second plateau, where Mom and Aunt Jenny awaits us in the chalet. I want to stay there for the night but Mom and Aunt Jenny say that Miranda has school in the morning and they take the tram down the mountain. The entire family leaves and since I no longer have a ride home, I decide to continue climbing the mountain myself.

The next day I am eager to continue on. Since the tram does not go up any further, I have to climb the steep stairs that have been cut into the side of the mountain. The climb to the thrid and final plateau is the longest and hardest, but it doesn't seem so bad because there is a steady line of climbers trudging up the mountain. I see a few people fall or slide off, but since there is nothing I can do to help them, I have to keep going. I reach a peak and grab the slippery ridge just as I lose my footing. I cannot see what's on the other side but I assume it is the final plateau because I can see what appears to be a wooden roof. A hand grabs mine and pulls me over the ridge and I find my self under a small gazebo where an elderly lady with pink coloured eyes is drinking hot cider with two old men. One of the men is completely blind and the other has one eye missing.

Behind the small gazebo there appears to be a small town where many people are walking around. The buildings are just shells (four walls and a roof), with padded floors. There are no windows and no doors so the buildings offer little shelter from the elements, though I suppose they were better than sleeping outside. People can buy, sell and live in these building for as long as they want. I cannot see what or where the source is, but there is a steady and abundant supply of food. The little town sits in the shadow of the summit, and many climbers think it is so great that they forget about reaching the top and stay in the town instead. I have grown tired of the mountain and want to leave. I have lost my desire to reach the top but neither do I want to stay in the town. I buy some skis and start down the other side of the mountain from the plateau town. The view is exhilarating but the decend is long, isolated and dangerous. There is no one attempting the decent but me.


I was only half way down the mountain when the dream suddenly ended and I woke up.

There is a punk or rock band doing an interview while walking through a dense field along a small, shallow creek. I am a camera operator trying to keep up with them as they walk and talk. I follow one of the spiky haired dudes into the creek and try to keep pace without getting my camera wet. As we trudge through the creek it slowly becomes wider and at one point (and quite suddenly) deeper. The band and other camera operators disappear as the sun starts to set and I am left to struggle out of the creek alone.

I see my family's old 1986 Westfalia sitting a distance away, near the edge of a dirt road. Still soaking wet I drop the camera and get into the vehicle, where I find myself with Dad, Mom, and brother Ryan. It is dark now and we seem to drive around aimlessly. I cannot see where we are going. Ryan is doing something to annoy me (but I can't remember what) and I feel angry. We pass small towns or buildings in the dark that are adorned with lots of bright lights and decorations). We are supposed to drop Ryan off somewhere (he is to meet up with his friend James, I think) but he disappears from (or exits) the van before we find the destination.

My parents drive past a few more small, brightly lit towns and then back into the dark country side. They suddenly turn off the van's headlights and drive in the dark. I can still feel (and vaguely see) the backseat that I am sitting on, but otherwise am completely surrounded by darkness. I can no longer see or hear Mom and Dad, but I assume they are still there because I can still feel the vibration of the van moving (though I can no longer hear the vehicle's engine as well).

The darkness surrounding me feels thick and heavy and I feel like I am being suffocated.

Morning of May 27, 2007. Sunday.

This was a very weird and vivid (but not what you would call lucid) dream about primarily my right hand being continuously injured and each finger almost coming off at different times during the dream.

My fingers (all four, but not including my thumb, which remains okay in the dream) somehow get cut by paper I am reading from, I believe - to where it causes all of their flesh to detach from the rest of my hand near the middle of the joints.

(I need to point out that the bone is never damaged or detached, just the fleshy areas, although it does seem at times like the entire finger may come off, but that does not actually happen.)

The sensations are extremely vivid and realistic in every sense of the word. There is not as much blood as one would expect and a couple times, I think of wrapping bandages around them. I even try to manually push the severed flesh back around the finger bone and it actually works for the most part.

It is very weird as the dream draws to a close; somehow my fingers (their flesh) perfectly reunite with the flesh they had somehow torn from, almost like a strong magnetic pull that “melts” the flesh back together and at the same time, having a sort of flowing effect (hard to explain), almost like pouring a glass of water into another but more of a sort of jelly-like rejoining.

Just prior to fully waking, my hand is perfectly whole again (better than ever) although it is very cold (and slowly coming back to life) and with a chalky powder around the fingers where the worst damage was. Of course, no scars will result, since the flesh flawlessly “melted” back together again.

Morning of April 19, 2007. Thursday.



My family and I are back at the apartment we used to live in about two years ago. However, our mentally disabled neighbor (to the south of us in real life on Barolin Street, in the halfway house) lives across the street in a semitrailer, but there is only a vague scene where he appears making some sort of loud animal noises as he does in life, but only for a short time. The semitrailer seems to be completely empty but he still lives there. (In real life, he had shouted gibberish at random times day and night , so it is possible he shouted once or twice and it became part of my dream.)

There are not many buildings around other than the four-block apartment complex we live in in-dream. The other three units have not been lived in for a long time, and I get this strong feeling that the whole area is going to eventually become part of a new development project within a month or so (this aspect turned out to be precognitive as well as the other precognitive layer described below). The area is completely different to real life, though. The four-block set of units is actually right on the edge of a cliff in a sort of triangular section with our apartment seeming the most safe. Actually, the ground has fallen out from underneath a couple of them already, making them unsafe. The apartment we live in is actually closest to the slightly curved road and there is the idea that the other apartments are not even safe enough to walk around in now. There is also a newer road below, part of it going directly under the apartment complex area. I soon notice that I can actually look through the window of one of the empty apartments and look down and see through gaps in the floor and down to the road below, where I notice a truck passing underneath.

I have a strong awareness that the owner of the place has not done any maintenance for a few years. I am also aware that there are stoves and refrigerators in the other apartments, but in poor condition. I put my hand on the outer wall of one of the apartment units, and there is almost immediately a rumbling, and dirt falling from everywhere around the unit. The whole apartment unit collapses down off from the cliff to the more solid ground below. It is about four stories down. This - from one brief touch of my hand.

I start to become more concerned about our own living area. Surely it must be fairly safe? A woman of about forty appears at around the same time I start to wonder about our apartment. Sure enough, when I start to open the front door, our whole apartment starts to fall to the ground below.

However, all is not lost. The woman has a cardboard box, and, with no logic or sense whatsoever, manages to safely catch all of our belongings in the box before the dust settles. The idea that even a small portion of our belongings would not have fit in the box (let alone being able to be caught as the whole building was falling) never even crosses my mind. I am just glad we still have all of our possessions with no damage whatsoever - and of course, we also managed to fall from the cliff (staying in standing position) without being injured as well.

Interestingly, this dream has turned out to be precognitive on two levels and exact in terms of some of the imagery; a day later, there was something about houses in Canada falling in the same manner as in my dream, and it was something I had not been thinking about or had seen on television recently up to the time of my dream.

There's a small town in the middle of nowhere it seems. There are small, one-storey homes built closely together throughtout the town but a thick fog makes anything beyond the town all but impossible to see. What vegetation can be seen is overgrown. Debris litters the street. Everything has a very "Silent Hill" feeling or looks downright ghetto. I'm in a large vehicle (a bus, I think) driving around this fog encased town looking for something or someone. There are people on the streets and they go about their business like any small, sleepy town would. They do not seem to notice the fog, or just don't care about it.

In the middle of the dream there is this scene that seems to repeat itself over and over (or I am unconsciously doing the same exact movements over and over) but everytime it starts up again there is different "background" music. I cannot see where the music is coming from. It seems atmospheric, almost like the music was born from the very air particles that I was breathing in.

I stopped the bus and got out because I was frustrated with feeling "stuck" and tried to find my way on foot. There was some incident in the street, but I have fogotten what transpired now. At one point I wander into an alleyway behind some buildings and turn around just in time to see the bus I was previously on run down and crush some poor woman in a pink sweater and beige pants (I didn't get to see her face so I don't know she is but I think it is my mother because of how she is dressed). The bus did not stop or slow down when it hit the lady and drove right into a brick wall, compacting the front of the bus like an accordian, and I assume, killing the driver.

At first I was horrified and tried to run away from the grisly scene, but then something compelled me back. I felt sick to my stomach when I returned, especially when when I noticed a group of people and their children approaching. I tried to stop them from viewing the horror, but I woke at about that moment and remember no more of this dream.

Morning of March 19, 2007. Monday.



In this dream, I am in a public area, and in a different country. It seems it may be the northern area of Syria. A lot of people are around. For some reason, Sam Neill, the actor, is there. He has a large boat to help people escape from the coming war. There is also a girl (from Tel Aviv?) with him. She is wearing a Star of David patch on her dress or blouse, but is told to take the symbol off, as she will not be safe in any part of the world with any group of people (during the war) if she keeps it. I believe she takes off the patch and puts it in a pocket or wraps it in a scarf. There is also a teenage male on the boat, but he plays such a small role, I am hardly ever aware of him.

A Syrian man (about forty years old) approaches me. He asks me where I am living, and for some reason, I state that I am living on the Saudi Arabia / Iraq border, which seems quiet and suitable in my dream, curiously enough. He informs me that he will go and get a gun for me to help protect myself as I am leaving the country. I wait outside and overhear him say something about me being gullible in my belief that he would do this, but the word is not “gullible”, it is something else I am not sure of, a short word which seems to express a few ideas at once, something to do with word play on “assaulting” (assaultin’) and “sultan”, I think. There is a point at which a large cloud of black smoke rises in the distance.

I later see a large television on display to the public and the news is on, showing scenes of smoking, damaged buildings with text (lower on the screen) “Beginning: World War III”. However, the news announcers seem very calm. I decide to go on the boat to “escape”. There are only very few people on the boat with Sam Neill as captain.

The “logic” of my dream makes absolutely no sense with regard to travel. The large boat is able to travel over land and even through buildings. In fact, somehow, during a couple similar or “reset” scenes, we even manage to get through a narrow checkout in what seems to be a small grocery store in Australia. At times, we are on water, but there is supposedly no flood to justify how the boat goes through different buildings to different countries or travels as it does.

We knock aside some military vehicles, one being a colorful semitrailer truck. It is not clear to me who is doing the most fighting or even what the war is about. It just seems that every country is at war with every other country and even different armies of certain countries are against each other.

We go into a whirlpool and we go down through a subterranean system of rivers, which are almost perfectly round. There is some concern that we will reach a dead-end and not be able to go back. At one point, we go through a palace in India where I notice intense-appearing women that gaze at us suspiciously - and the boat even goes down the front flight of stairs before going back into a larger body of water.

Finally, we end up in an area in which I am trying to work out if we are just west or east of Canada. It seems more like it is near Alaska, on the west side of Canada. There is a smaller cylindrical iceberg in the water, which is where I will be living until the war is over. The area is peaceful and beautiful. I expect to see airplanes or smoke along the horizon, but everything is clear and blue here.

Morning of March 4, 2007. Sunday.

Dream #: 14,685-02. Reading time (optimized): 2 min.



I am with my youngest son at a grocery store, which seems like the store closest to where we live, to the north, but perpendicular to how it is in real life. It is possible that the rest of my family is there and shopping in another part of the store.

There is an unknown woman whom I think works there. She is pretty and about thirty. It first seems as if she may be Italian, but she has a South American appearance as well. Her skin is slightly dark, and she seems to have an elaborate headpiece with bells or little silver balls on it. Later, I am unsure if she is a worker or someone who came into the store to talk to us. She reminds me slightly of a gypsy and also of my wife.

She thinks my son is either carrying or is in contact with the spirit of her grandfather in addition to another. She wants to ask my son a question. She whispers it in his left ear (something that I would never agree to in real life and it even feels wrong in my dream at first). She seems to be performing a ritual, mostly only a chant-like acknowledgment of my son’s “powers.” I feel a bit uneasy and unsure of what is going on. It almost seems I am only there to take my son back home so that he will not get lost.

I bow to have my son speak a name in my left ear rather loudly and clearly, but still somewhat like a whisper, but also seemingly meant to reassure me.

The name is “Akna.” (Is that the mysterious woman’s name?)

“Akna” does not sound familiar. A few thoughts go through my head. Acne? What is the word? Akna. Why Akna? Is it the last name of an unknown family member? I wake up, somewhat annoyed, as my dream did not seem to make sense regardless of how vivid it became.

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In Inuit mythology, Akna (“mother”) is a goddess of fertility and childbirth.

Akna is also the name of a goddess of motherhood and birthing in Maya mythology.

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My wife had a baby recently and needed to have a C-Section. I certainly do not remember reading or hearing about “Akna,” though.

Zsuzsanna told me our son had been doing some unusual songlike chanting before going to sleep, with a lot of m, n, and k sounds. My dream date matches the date circled in my her journal (though I had not seen it) about when she thought she would have our new baby (though it was earlier by C-section). Zsuzsanna has a theory that my dream is a result of her regret over not having her baby at the “right” time, but I have no regret and am glad she got through it. At this point, I also am wondering if it was our baby son implied as older in my dream, or our next-youngest son, although I think it was our next-youngest.

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Original dream dated Feb. 23rd, 2007:

I dreamed I turned into a man who was coal black on one side and snow white on the other. I was trying to give a reading of a poem for class, but one side of my body took over and the poem came out completely wrong. The side that took over was the side that was capable of being ONLY completely literal and rational. My professor gave me an F.
I was angry, so I decided to go harass her. I went over to her house and found out that she had a side-business dry-cleaning underwear, but for some reason all of the underwear was red and made of wool.
She was still sleeping, so I decided to freak her out by taking a shower. She had some Fructis shampoo that I liked a lot. At one point, she woke up and argued with me because she needed to get into the bathroom.