Morning of August 26, 1997. Tuesday. I dreamt of a skeleton that was buried in Cubitis (where I have not lived since 1978). The identity of the skeleton remains unknown. A strong wind blows dirt from it as I watch. Eventually, instead of a skeleton, it turns out to be edges of many interesting magazines and books. (Human remains becoming something else over time, or having been something else even when there does seem to be a real change, has been a sparsely recurring dream event.) Because skeletons, ghosts, and similar concepts relate to unfocused conscious awareness within a dream when books define a clearer conscious focus (though I do not become lucid), such a dream symbolizes increasing neural activity towards waking. Wind represents the passage of time.
Morning of March 23, 1974. Saturday. I am either (originally implied to be) resting or “sleeping” within my dream, with my bed being fully in the southwest corner of my Cubitis bedroom, aligned along the south wall near the one jalousie window, though my head to the east, lying on my right side at first. After a time, I hear someone say my name from above (but seemingly close to my head), the dream becoming more vivid, followed by “Claude…here are some books” with a loving and intimate intonation. It is my “mystery girl”, but I am not sure where she is, perhaps in another dimension oriented above my bed, with the portal being part of the ceiling itself, though the ceiling does not look any different. Several large old books fall somewhat in slow motion (or somehow held back from falling more heavily as if perhaps by levitation) onto my bed. There is a very clear and strong sensation of weight shifting by the books landing on my bed. For a short time, I consider that the girl will join me, but I do not see her anywhere at any time. There is a vivid sense of antiquity as well as a feeling that these books are also one-of-a-kind. They mostly seem somewhat encyclopedic, some relating to the paranormal or perhaps spiritual rituals. I am somehow somewhat aware that the writing in one book reminds me somewhat of plant roots (which is a recurring concept) even though I do not seem to be looking inside any of the books. This event seems to be happening in the morning. Sunlight is filling my room and I feel a sense of true love from somewhere unknown. I am disappointed that they are not there after I wake up, as if I have residual consideration that items from my dreams can materialize in reality with the right focus.
Updated 07-29-2016 at 06:29 AM by 1390
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