All DJ Entries

Woke up around 3:30. Recall the following:

Person with unusual head (doesn’t look like a head, more like a ball). Some kind of math involved? The person turns…

…I have a Bible that looks like Myst: The Book of Atrus hardcover.

…Water, island (?). About dream control, but not lucid. I think that it would be easier to do something unusual like suck up the water around me and spit it out than to try to do something less unusual. I then go under water…

Driving. Something about telling the truth about something. It involved people being treated harshly…

6:20am

“Labyrinth” in chimney

We (Dad and I, perhaps) are doing something with the mulberry tree at my Grandparents’ old house. This involves taking apart one of the branches, in which is a piece of metal. This appears to go along with some other metal pieces, and attach in a chimney to perform some unknown function. This has been a mystery of the house for some time. I think of it as a labrynth for some reason. There are some symbols in the chimney describing what it is that you are supposed to do, but the symbols are hard to interpret.

I think the mulberries on the tree were of a very pale color, almost white.

Also, I think this may be a part of the dream:

There is something down in the basement that goes along with the labyrinth. It is behind a lot of my clutter, though. I go down to look for it.

Fragments

I don’t remember much details of this dream. Here are the notes I took when I woke up:

Scary place, much shooting, can get trapped there, getaway at end

Morning of May 10, 2020. Sunday.

Dream #: 19,501-03. Reading time (optimized): 2 min.



My dream self lacks any waking-life references (and as usual, there is no recall of the present state of the world), though I become interested in a couple of big books with ambiguous content in an unknown but mostly undefined setting. I treat them as mine.

The first section of the books seems to feature summaries of dream content, the second, various comic strips (“Blondie” being the one I focus on more), and the third seeming like the Yellow Pages of a phone book. I read a “Blondie” comic strip at the top of a left-hand page, atypically of only two panels, the second panel featuring a winter scene in a city. There is a scene that briefly seems to be in a “real” setting when I am looking at the front of the residence where Dagwood and Blondie live. I consider meeting Dagwood and going to parts of his house that no one (including the Bumsteads) had ever seen. (In a previous dream, I was at a party with Dagwood, his boss Mr. Dithers, and Blondie, and they appeared mainly as in the comic strip.)

Imaginary somatosensory cortex dynamics initiate but link to a static form of the vestibular cortex model (in contrast to “Fun with Rockets and Alien Spaceships” from May 1) and no dynamic foundation of myoclonus (waking start or falling trigger).

As a result, I find myself with an old Greek coin, the one that features the Owl of Athena (a flight reference for my dream’s waking transition as always occurs with this mode of dreaming). (One of the last static versions of this process was a sketchy drawing of a crow appearing in a mirror in “Sophie the Ghost” from May 3.) Even so, the coin is about three times bigger than an American quarter and possibly hollow.

Although the coin is too big to be real, I briefly consider it genuine and valuable. I plan to show it to this dream’s unseen sleep-wake manager (an unknown male), but before I reach him, I see “Athens” to the lower right of the owl relief in uppercase. I read it clearly, and it does not change over time. I consider the coin cannot be genuine because of “Athens” being in English. I wake upon realizing this.

---

This dream stems from childhood dreaming practices in which I tried to hold onto a summoned coin to awake with it (and of course, it never worked, although I sometimes woke while pinching my pillowcase). The process (and its absentminded expectation by way of the virtuous circle effect of dreaming practices) has occurred in thousands of my dreams, sometimes with a static link to myoclonus associations as here.

---

I will include another example from 2017 when I sat at a table with Les Gold (of “Hardcore Pawn”), and we were discussing a fictitious 1970 limited edition American quarter that featured the outline of Jonathan Livingston Seagull. We talked of how the coin was unpopular, with similar notoriety as the American Susan B. Anthony Dollar.

---

I am flying. It seems that I’ve looked around me and noticed that I am maybe fifty feet or so up into the air. I notice the blue sky surrounding me and have to concentrate hard to keep moving upwards. There are two birds that I surpass. I notice a white fence way down below and continue using all of my willpower to stay afloat. There is music playing, seemingly just emanating from the surroundings, that I can hear crystal clear (but don’t remember) and that helps me stay afloat. I think I eventually come down.




I am on a walk and almost back to the house when I notice a house with an open garage. There is an older man sitting in a chair at the threshold with what looks like a border collie at his feet. It looks like he is having a small garage sale with most of the stuff in the garage (I think the driveway is short). I walk up and start petting the dog’s soft fur. I briefly consider the possibility of this spreading the virus, but the man doesn’t seem to care. The man seems friendly and pleased to have company. He says hi, I ask how he is, and we make small talk. Despite his amiability, I sense something slightly off. I notice a box of books and a box of what looks like VHS tapes. There’s really not much more, and nothing that catches my attention. The man asks if I have a MasterCard. I tell him “I have a Visa card,” not sure why he’s asking, unless he has a card reader. I was about to leave, but he starts telling me that he wants me to leave a card since I’ve already looked at stuff. A little baffled, I tell him it’s not that I don’t trust him but I just don’t feel comfortable doing that. Mom now shows up, like she was on a walk too. I tell the man I live right across the street, gesturing to the house directly across the street, asking if that changes anything. He contemplates and then says no. Mom and I just walk away from him; he accepts defeat without a word and sits back down. I notice his kind of creepy, flyaway white hair.




I am in some house; Mom is here too. I open the fridge and see that I have about ¾ of a glass of dark beer left. I wonder if it’s still good. I open some cabinets where the trash should be, but only find a ton of empty craft beer bombers.

I am in a fairly large used bookstore. The shelves are dark wood, tall, and full. The aisles are large and grid-like, but the place seems dim. It has a cluttered but homey atmosphere. I’m looking through the large ‘H’ section for Aldous Huxley. There is a couple looking at this section too; I politely step around them, but I think they are right in front of where I need to be. I think they move and I find a couple of Huxley books. I am now looking at a narrow shelf at the end of one of the aisle shelves. There are two cassettes? and their covers are two different pictures of Makayla and some guy on the beach. They are both in swimsuits and standing next to each other, arms around one another. It looks like Hawaii. I find it slightly odd that these are here and wonder why they are. There is also a haphazard stack of small, square, used notebooks. I flip through one, intrigued by going through someone else’s writing. I notice a date - 2000 or 2001. At the end, there is a picture of a hand holding a pen or pencil.




(I think this may be a part of the last dream, but it also may not be). I have arrived in Hawaii. I think it is the big island and I think I may be meeting up with Jim and Rhianna. I’m walking through some foliage, toward the beach. The plants thin and give way to an expanse of sand that slowly slopes to the ocean. The sun is shining languorously on the interspersed people enjoying this space, and the whole scene is peaceful and beautiful. Now, I am on a plane back. It is very dark out, but I notice buildings that are dangerously close… until I realize that this plane is graceful landing on a wide freeway, on which I think there are still cars. It looks like the bay area.

Morning of December 10, 2019. Tuesday.

Dream #: 19,349-02. Reading time (optimized): 3 min.



My mother and I were to get off the bus in Northside La Crosse in the afternoon. There is a distraction, and we remain en route to Southside La Crosse. My mother is annoyed (though this is illogical, as she seems more aware than I am in this dream and should have been aware of an upcoming bus stop).

My non-lucid dream has robbed me of my identity, which is typical. There is no recall of my mother dying in 2002 and no recall of any factor in my life since the 1980s, and yet my dream self feels perhaps 40 years old. Ultimately, this is not deliberate in a specific sense, but a result of incidental synaptic gating. However, synaptic gating works in a way to avoid a valid waking-life recall until the final gating factor with full consciousness. My non-lucid dreams are also the opposite of waking-life correlation (unless prescient or transpersonal). The trip from Northside La Crosse to Southside La Crosse would be typical in real life, as we already lived in Northside La Crosse, so my dream’s situation is ridiculous, that is, the direct opposite of the truth.

My dream’s induction is all about imaginary proprioception. When I try to get off the bus from its right, even though other passengers get off (including my mother), I only see a small opening, about two-thirds the size needed. This event is the wall mediation factor (that occurs throughout every sleep cycle). It indicates that I cannot move my physical body as I sleep (and although my waking orientation is usually to the right as I sleep on my left side, there is an additional factor here, explained later). I complain to the driver that I cannot get off the bus (either move my real body or yet correlate my imaginary dream body with my dream self’s perception). Another opening appears to the left of the first, about where real bus doors would be in America. It is more like a door, but irregular, still not big enough for me to get off the bus. I become slightly more dream-cognizant and teleport to where my mother is standing, near a group of people. We are at the post office (potential for enigmatic space or liminal space communication).

I start complaining about having lost my bag of books (cognitive arousal). I consider someone else might have taken them. My mother informs me that they are near where she is standing. Although I pick them up, this focus vanishes in the next scene.

We have to go back to Northside La Crosse, our original destination. I decide to go in a particular direction (that is fictitious). I instinctually summon water reinduction (virtual melatonin mediation). A beautiful river is on our right as we walk along a narrow road as my dream vivifies. We reach an area where we need to go up a slope. (This feature stems from the summoning of imaginary proprioception and vestibular system correlation that occurs in all longer dreams at one point or another, though I often use a staircase.) My dreaming experience vivifies again, just on the threshold of lucidity. However, I consider my mother will not be able to ascend the slope, so my cognizance (and imaginary physicality) decreases.

We somehow end up back near the La Crosse post office. A bus goes by, stopping briefly at an intersection (RAS autosymbolism of synaptic gating). This time, the doors are on the left and appear correct (big enough to get on and off the bus). I call out to my mother, “This is how buses should be.” (Why did I say this? Because with the synaptic gating event, I attain a subliminal recall that only buses in Australia look like this. However, I am still not aware of my true identity or the recall I live in Australia in real life.)

In the final scene, my mother boards a bus, saying it is the one we should take (back to Northside La Crosse), though I have my doubts. When we are on the bus, all I see are male and female students (all wearing the same uniforms as in an Australian school) from about sixth to eighth grades. I am uncertain if this is where we should be. This final synaptic gating event implies increasing cognizance (students going to school). Even though the students are Australian, I am not conscious until the last process. In hot weather, achieving consciousness (from the dream state) is more sluggish, validated by neuroscience.

---

I am walking along the sidewalk through what seems like midtown closer to downtown, I think on my way to work. There is a brick building that appears to be a neat looking bookstore through the window. I decide to go in. Inside, it seems like mostly a large, square area with tall, wooden bookshelves. Many books seem to be facing out, their covers on display. I’m surprised and delighted by the selection of books about dreams, spirituality, etc. I am also holding a book that I think I’m returning. I make my way to the counter to wait. The apparent manager is an older middle aged lady that is currently talking with another woman or two. She gives the impression of being very kind and homey. She also has not noticed me or has disregarded me, but I find it hard to fault her as she seems to be in an engaged conversation with the other two. I check my phone for the time (:55?) and know I have to get going. I think I’ll have to come back sometime later.

Last night, I once again found myself lucid, once again without being entirely sure how it happened. It felt like the dream was close to an hour long, although it was technically two dreams since there was a brief awakening and reentry in the middle. Because it was so long and I spent the whole thing just exploring the house I found myself in and messing around, it wouldn’t make for very interesting reading, and so I’ll just include a few highlights of it.

-Finding a series of books entitled “More Than 21 Cats” on a bookshelf.

-Devoting more attention than usual to maintaining awareness and focus. My lucid dreams almost always end with no warning whatsoever, and while I used to consider this something I couldn’t do much about, I’ve been wondering lately whether preventative stabilization might help. This intention seems to have carried over, and as the dream was longer than any I’ve had for a while, I’d call it a success.

-Receiving a few gifts for no apparent reason from people who were around. I spent a good chunk of the dream opening them, resisting the urge to go off and do other things since it seemed like that would have been ungrateful, even if it was a dream.

-Moving a wardrobe with my mind. I extended my hand, interfacing with it on a mental level—if that makes sense—and then pulled. And then I pushed it back.

-Having the dream briefly interrupted by a message displayed over the scene as if it were a screen. It was a rather ominous message, but it seemed to have no immediate effect other than turning everything in the house green and shifting some of the furniture into new styles and/or positions. This may have been a direct result of moving the wardrobe as it happened shortly afterwards, and the last time I tried to control things in a lucid dream was also closely followed by something weird and threatening happening.

-Two more visits to my M--- basement, the first before the green shift, the second afterwards to see if anything had changed. It had: the second version had a closed door where the tunnel often is in dream versions of it, as well a sort of workshop behind the same wall, visible through a couple small windows.

-Lots of cats around, but probably less than 21.

Morning of September 19, 2017. Tuesday.



In the first part of my dream, in the first non-lucid segment, I am in a typical scenario where I am in a bookstore (or what is firstly perceived as one) and looking at various comic books and graphic novels. This goes on for a long time as I gather a stack together to keep. The books are unfamiliar, thus new to me, though some are implied to be older (as far back as the 1970s).

At this stage, the personified preconscious is present as a younger unfamiliar male. Curiously, he is painting, as if there was also an art studio here. It is not much bigger than A4 size and lying on the table that I am sitting at eventually. It seems to be a landscape with flowers in the foreground.

I tell him how I had painted, with a paint-by-number kit when I was a boy, two skulls. I explain how they were two singular portraits of skeletal pirates, shown from about the chest up. (This is based on a real-life event and thus atypically, is a real memory.) He said he had never heard of them. “Oh, they were quite popular,” I reply. I then go on to describe how my older brother Earl had started a very large paint-by-number of the Mona Lisa, but had never finished. (This was also a real event, from the early 1970s.)

Eventually, I decide to walk out of what now seems like a second-hand store. I have a stack of graphic novels and comic books at least a foot high. However, it seems confused with the free bookstore, where (in real life) there is no one present other than the patrons and one is trusted to trade books of equal value on their own. A cashier, an older unfamiliar female, stops me by asking what I am doing. She is at a counter to my right. Apparently, I have to pay for the books, possibly a lot of money, which I do not have on me, which I tell her. I also protest in that I tell her I had left food on a previous visit. It does not seem to matter to her. I still apparently have to pay for these books now.

I take out my wallet and the contents of my right pants pocket and see that I have only coins, which I place on the counter, which has now suddenly shifted to the opposite side of the room and farther back from the entrance of the store - a subliminally willed (non-lucid dream control) attempt at reinduction, that is, I had consciously but subliminally willed the counter back from my dream’s implied exit point as well as shifting it from the right to the left, as right is more typical of waking symbolism orientation. (The checkout of a store symbolizes a specific level of emergent consciousness as a common liminal space end marker in my dreams, fully understood as such since I was very young. This does not mean every dream ends shortly after a checkout is rendered, but it does indicate a precursor to an expected shift in consciousness, not necessarily full wakefulness, though that is often the case).

The preconscious factors had transmuted from the artist (which symbolizes potential lucidity, though my non-lucid dream self does not realize this) to the elderly female cashier, though an unfamiliar male with a beard joins her on her right (the same orientation Zsuzsanna and I are presently sleeping in). The other male looks at my coins. Three of them are unusual in that they are mostly featureless other than having an embossed circle on them. “These are tally-hoes,” he says. This seems to mean that they may not be coins for buying something but possibly for use with public transport, or perhaps of little value. (Of course, “Tally-ho”, here an absentminded association with tallying up the total price as in “tally whole cost”, is here also a codeword for the waking transition analogous as the dream self hunting for the fox, which represents the precursor to coalescence back into conscious self identity and critical thinking skills or cleverness which the dream self does not typically possess.)

From here, my mode of non-lucid dream control increments. I decide to leave the store with the books anyway, by teleporting and phasing through the entrance door without opening it (another form of subliminal reinduction, that is, even though I do not know I am dreaming, I deliberately manipulate it, a very common state of in-dream awareness for me).

Still, they are heavy to carry, but I do not mind that much. It seems to be late at night. I notice that the moon is of an unusual appearance as a number of unusual clouds encircle it. The moon imagery is within the blue sky even though the rest of the sky is dark. Understanding that this image of the nighttime sky is absurd, I now become fully lucid and I decide to actively change and sustain my dream.

The first act I perform is to joyfully throw my books onto the ground, as there is no sense in carrying them (or to be weighed down by them) in the dream state. I feel physically lighter and very happy to realize I am dreaming due to lifelong understanding of taking full conscious self advantage of this state. I enter apex lucidity and decide to create a park and have a sustained and augmented sexual encounter with Zsuzsanna. After this, I will it again. Parts of my body are “buzzing” with pleasure and our climaxes are extended (probably due to the Tetris effect from so many real-life events). However, I eventually shift into a different form of lucidity, where my dream is so realistic, that my dream self starts to question if my real physical body is somehow walking around (which of course is a ridiculous thought, but this has happened in past lucid dreams of a higher and sustained form), so I decide to initiate waking to find that I (that is, my sleeping physical body) had not moved at all. Still, there is something about the bliss, freedom, and even perceived safety of apex lucidity that is hard to describe.

---

07-27-2017 -- The Tickle-Worm. Dream starts out with me working as some sort of courier. I have stopped by a law office to pick up files to deliver somewhere, and they are a small pile of papers and a check that I have to take and place in an envelope (possibly re-useable) supplied for it. As I slide them in, the person there is telling me that there is no special hurry, and that I can take this and the one other package I currently have in either order, and I add in the instructions that I know are coming ... as long as I do not pick up any more on the way. This needs to get to their delivery spot quite quickly.

Don't have any clue just how the scene reaches this next point, but I find myself in a hotel room somewhere with my dad. I have a small wooden box, slightly decorated, that I think may have been based on a box from a Harry Potter fan-fic I was reading last night, that in the fic was a sort of magical mail box. In the dream, it holds an unusual creature that I have somehow received ... a Tickle-Worm. The Tickle-Worm is a worm. It starts out looking mostly like a regular worm, with a slightly larger 'head' area that actually has a bit of a face, and is perhaps about 8 inches long. It springs out of its box, and is supposed to kind of half curl up in my hand and sleep there, as I go to sleep.

The problem is, it seems to be curious and into exploring. As I go to lay down, it springs out of my hand and across the room, where it starts crawling around a book case, knocking books to the floor, and annoying my dad, who is trying to sleep. He's kind of upset about the thing making noise. That part I don't mind too much, but I do find it kind of irksome that it is knocking all of the Danny Dunn books off the shelves. I approach the bookcase, thinking I am going to have to kind of chase it around to try and catch it, but as I get close, it springs off the bookcase into my hand.

I'm walking back toward the bed, hoping I can now get a little sleep, but as I draw near, it springs off again, flying into a slightly open chest filled with boxes of colorful breakfast cereals, again doing some exploring. The next thing I know, I am in some sort of classroom or scientific lab speaking with a female teacher or scientist, asking about the Tickle-Worm, and she is explaining where they are found. She shows me a large, octagonal aquarium filled with water and seaweed, but no fishes.

This thing is probably about ten feet around, and perhaps four feet high, but weighs little enough that she can pick it up. Anyway, she picks it up and shows me a piece of seaweed that is long and wide and flat and thick (probably about four feet long, six inches wide, and about an inch thick) that is a slightly brownish green and now hanging from it is a tapeworm-like Tickle-Worm. Seems they start in sea water, but when removed, are perfectly fine.

[I do not think I have ever heard the term Tickle-Worm before this dream, but looking it up on the internet, it seems it may be something created by a band I have never heard of, in a song that I also have never heard. How it came to be in my dream, I have less than no clue.]

I took a swig of vodka form a bottle, a drink of some other alcohol, and poured a tiny bit of orange juice into a shot glass and drank it.

Later:
I was in a classroom sitting at a table with some old school friends. They were young teenagers, and I think I was too. Our teacher was my dog's previous Dog Trainer. She mentioned something about shrimp, directed at me, I said I didn't like shrimp. She said I should maybe 'open my mind more.' I was confused but just sat there. A pretty brunette girl walked into the room with another adult/teacher. My friends whispered to themselves and then told me that I would be like that girl if I was nice. I felt hurt, and told them that I had never been purposely mean to them and asked them what had I done to treat them poorly. I decided to get up and leave the classroom.

I went outside of the building and sat on a ledge overlooking the street. I saw a boy from my childhood (dreamt about him not so long ago, but I never think or talk to him in waking life, wonder what he represents?) skateboarding down a hill.

The next day I went back to class after grabbing a lot of books from my locker. At my seat in class there was an attendance slip with a sea foam green ribbon on it that said 'please see Julia.' I knew it was because I had left early yesterday. We had a test on yesterday's material and I knew I wouldn't pass.The teacher seemed concerned and irritated with me, and as I left asked me to please at lest consider going to the event on Saturday. I wasn't sure what she meant.

Thoughts:
I went for over 2 weeks without drinking and decided to buy some wine this weekend. I drank, but didn't enjoy it as much as I previously had and looked forward to the bottle being empty so I could start 'not drinking' again. Obviously still hooked enough to not want to pour it out.

Fell asleep: 11:15 P.M.
Woke: 8:15 A.M.

8 hours 53 minutes sleep last night
7 hours 17 minutes restful sleep
1 hours 35 minutes restless sleep
82 % restful sleep

Dream 1:

I was in a bookstore looking through the books. I got really lucky and found an m/m romance book, but it was volume 2. I looked through it and found BookCrossing.com labels EVERYWHERE. Mainly loose labels and papers about it.

Unfortunately, I had added more books to my pile, and had sat the stack down briefly to keep looking. When I picked it back up, the volume was missing. :/ I remember complaining to someone (I think the shop owner, an elderly lady) but she wasn't helpful.

I also remember someone helping me find a slim book I'd had but lost in the other books. They did find it and hand it to me.

Jump.

A little girl wants to buy this tub of garlic butter, but there's only a little left in it. I know I have some with more in it, so I go find it, but it turns out it's all dry and unusable. There was a bit more but I don't remember it, just that the shop owner was there.

Dream 2:

There was a guy imprisoned in a room. He was on a bunk-bed I believe. He climbed down and tried on a pair of dressy black feminine shoes that were on the floor, but they were way too big. He thought that if he had bigger feet like his friend, he could fit them. He put the shoes back down and got back on the bed. Some more guys entered the room, and he worried that they'd noticed he'd moved the shoes.

The guys were talking about something, and one guy was reading something aloud or quoting something, and bunk-bed guy had to fill in the blanks. He filled it in with one of the nCrave cards on Swagbucks.com. Somehow it turned out to be a love confession, and the filled in name was one of the guys, which actually turned out to be true - one of these guys had given up on him, and now it seemed like the other guy was into him after he'd already given up hope.

~This dream was confusing not only because of the jumbled details, but because the characters seemed to be from Noblesse. Bunk bed guy was either Tao or M-21, and the guy with the big feet was M-24.

Fragment 1: Sitting carefully on a ledge surrounded by buildings/ledges. Hearing a cat meowing and calling out to it. It somehow makes it to me. I think it was black.

Fragment 2: Seeing someone in the store in their full pajamas.

Wakeup times:
2:15 A.M. for 10 minutes
4:35 A.M. for a couple minutes
5:00 A.M. for 15 minutes

Fell asleep: 11:30 P.M. (with trazodone)
Woke up: 9:02 A.M.

9 hours 18 minutes sleep last night
7 hours 38 minutes restful sleep
1 hours 39 minutes restless sleep
82 % restful sleep

Dream: I was exploring a new house we were staying at, and I started finding secret doors, but they all just seemed to be alternate paths to other parts of the house until I found this one that led to a dark room. I tried turning on my activity watch's backlight but I don't know if it worked. Still, I could see better, as I spotted books on a table to the left. I could see that they were probably all just romance but I had to be certain, so I walked up to them and skimmed through them with my eyes. Yep, romance.

At some point I realized this was just another familiar room, that it didn't maybe lead to someone else's house like I speculated after I heard a TV running. Then I realize that someone is coming over - dad. Not knowing what else to do, I waited until he was to my right and yelled "Boo!". He wasn't surprised, as usual.

I'm exploring a specific section of the house. I'm crouched down on the floor looking in the nooks and crannies of a shelf or something, and there's a bunch of objects stuffed in there. There's a kid to my right and I realize it was probably him that did it. I pulled out a handful of writing utensils. Then I start looking for diapers, but all I find is toys and stuff.

Fragment: Looking through a hidden house full of some kind of historical stuff packed away, a man discovers me, another pile of hidden stuff back outside near a tree.

Wakeups:
1:35 A.M. for 23 minutes
3:45 A.M. for 16 minutes
7:20 A.M. for 41 minutes
9:02 A.M. for 15 minutes

I was in my house, packing books into my backpack. Then I was in my school's toilet with bunch of classmates. A tall and slim dude in gray hoodie was writing something in his notebook. He looked like he was writing something really important. Later on I was sitting in a bus driving to my village. It was noon, the Sun was shining, beams of light gave some moody glow. We were driving through forest. I was sitting close to a girl wearing black jacket. She had dark hair, I avoided unnecessary contact and was just sitting, waiting for my station.

I'm on the road in front of my house, but it looks different; there's a old tree without any leaves with its branches sweeping low over the road like crochety hands. I climb up along one until I reach the level right about the powers lines and jump into a fly. I loose control and go head over heels, landing in a heap in the middle of a grand library.
It's beautiful. The shelves are carved like gentles waves, and the room is two floors high with a balcony running all around it. The room is lit by gaslights of copper and gold with frosted glass covering the flames, the warm almost buttery light gleaming of the polished wood of the shelves and floors. The glimpses of wall I can see are covered with dark green silk, matching the couch and armchairs placed around. At the far side of the library is a big fireplace, currently lit. The room smells sweet, of old books and beewax. There's an open door on a side, with moonlight peaking in.
I walk to it and step into a covered terrace, all old stones. It opens into a very carefully lanscaped garden under a very bright, very big full moon. At the center of it there's a table dressed and ready, with crystal glasses, vermeil cutlery and candelabra. There are people already seated, dressed in finery of all period and fashion, having hushed conversations and eyeing the rest of the small crownd. I don't feel like joining them but come closer to the table to admire the carving on the cutlery. The guests whisper amoung themselves, making a point of not looking at me. I'm a little annoyed and start to walk around the table to go to the other side of the terrace, so I can access the garden. As I'm going I catch a glimpse of blond hair and turn my head; the silvery man is here, very smartly dressed, his hair brushed to fall on one of his shoulder while letting the line of his jaw free of distraction on the other side. It's slighty distracting, and he knows it. Noticing my presence, he change his course and come to me, easily taking my arm and pulling me to the end of the terrace, inside a small, narrow alley I didn't see earlier. There's ivy on the wall, up to a small alvove with what seem to be an old pedestal on the ground. He pulls me in, leaning against the wall with a impish smile. I cross my arms in front of me, too amused to be annoyed... and wake up.

Morning of February 18, 2016. Thursday.



In my dream, I seem to be in an area that is loosely modeled after my Cubitis home (where I have not lived since 1978, yet my dream self sees it as my present home), at least regarding the large backyard and the railroad tracks behind it (to the east) but there are differences. It seems to be late at night and yet there are short time periods where I can clearly see the covers of books. On at least two occasions, I also notice unknown trucks parked in what would be the backyard.

I go near the railroad tracks and notice a shallow cardboard box filled with old How and Why Wonder Books that appears to have been put out by an unknown neighbor farther south, but the majority do not look like any of the ones I had in real life as a boy. However, “Coins and Currency”, which is one I did have, is near the top, but the cover is very worn. There are other books in the box in addition to the How and Why Wonder Books, including magazines and comic books. I think about taking them, as they had been discarded. Still, it is an unusual place to put presumed rubbish, as there is no pick up there (or rather, never was in real life) other than for the train to collect and take to the dump as my dream self reasons. A lifelong dream-related focus of a train taking large amounts of possibly valuable refuse to a landfill (or sometimes a warehouse where it is apparently sorted), usually northward, is a curious recurring theme.

I am on the railroad tracks for a time (remaining on the west side of them) but I am aware that a train is approaching from the south. I feel the vibrations and expect it to be carrying a lot of printed materials to a landfill, which enhances my curiosity about possibly attaining interesting books. Oddly, it turns out to be one boxcar moving down the track (with no discernible method of locomotion). It passes me, but when it starts to go through a tunnel (not a real-life feature) on the opposite side of our backyard, to the north, it somehow gets jammed in. I am somehow able to move it back out, as it seems very light. It falls off the railroad tracks directly into the living room of the house, which establishes consciously unresolvable ambiguity as to whether I am in an outdoor or indoor setting. (In real life, there was considerable distance from the railroad tracks to the house.)

I see various books inside the boxcar, which now seems only about half the size it had been previously. It is not only very light but starts to bend slightly, like thin aluminum. I notice a “Tom and Jerry” storybook with perhaps one small black and white drawing per page. I also notice two Nancy and Sluggo comic strip collections in book form. There are still a number of other books inside the boxcar as I tip it upside-down, some of the contents spilling onto the living room floor.

Two unknown men eventually appear and it seems as if they had been moving the boxcar down the tracks even though they were not seen until this point. They seem puzzled about the details concerning the wreck. They are not angry and seem friendly as I tell them that I hope to keep what I want from the boxcar. I even offer to pay for the contents (only because they showed up and I do not want to be seen as a thief) and the man to my right gives me a puzzled look as if there would be no need. (In the last stage, there is a vague sense of bilocation when the Cubitis living room is associated with the kitchen of our present home and the vague awareness of my real physical body in bed to my right, though there is also a vague awareness of one step leading up to it between the kitchen and where our bed is, a step or staircase symbolizing an increase of neural activity to eventually establish wakeful consciousness.)

---

This dream seems to have been at least partly influenced by having reviewed and written about a childhood dream from 1967 (“Battle atop Boxes on a Boxcar”).

---

A train is typically relevant to the dynamics of the dream state, not waking life. Here, it can be validated that I had threads of instinctual dreaming (unaware of being in a dream but still with influence and control). This is why my dream self was able to stop the boxcar (subliminally willing it to become stuck in the tunnel) and attain full control of it despite the size and weight. The preconscious and my emergent consciousness show up in the last scene as potential waking initiators, which is also unrelated to waking life as it is a common dream state component in case I indulge in a dream for too long (in which case the preconscious would become aggressive or more dominant, as waking up is a biological necessity).

---

Resupplemented and minimally expanded on Thursday, 17 August 2017, due to seeing no evidence of public understanding of dreams or the dream state.

---