• Lucid Dreaming - Dream Views




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    1. Tackle Shop Bookshop

      by , 10-30-2018 at 01:58 PM
      Morning of October 30, 2018. Tuesday.

      Dream #: 18,943-03. Reading time: 2 min 38 sec. Readability score: 62.



      My dream renders a mixed-up combination of a pawn shop from America, a bookstore from Nundah (Australia), and a tackle shop from America. It seems to be late afternoon. I am on my own, with little conscious self memory (even though Zsuzsanna and I frequented the Nundah bookstore years ago).

      There is a backstory, and false memory, about how I had traded several packs of long bookbinding screws (at least four inches in length) for credit or to trade, though I do not recall all of the details. There are two unfamiliar female cashiers present who are in their twenties. (The bookbinding screws relate to my big stamp album binders from when I lived in Florida, though there are likely associations with similar screws I used for putting the swing set together after Christmas.)

      I am carrying a winter jacket (though mostly slung over my left shoulder). As such, I try not to appear suspicious, as I also have items I had brought into this store. I consider that they might think I am taking them from their store and trying to hide them under my jacket. (This is a literal bed space strand, as subliminal awareness of the bed sheet pulling around my left shoulder.)

      They seem puzzled (and express disbelief) when I infer how I had traded items previously. The shelves that had packs of bookbinding screws are now all empty. For some reason, they are to do with fishing tackle, but my dream self does not reflect upon this error. The owner is at the back of his store, but I do not approach his counter. (I perceive him as the owner of the pawn shop in La Crosse, though there are also associations with the owner of the Nundah bookstore.)

      One of the women asks me if I want to buy one of the bigger bass plugs, but I respond that they are too big for the type of fishing I do (which includes striped bass and smallmouth bass for which I prefer small jigs and spoons). I then walk to the opposite side of the store. I see that they are selling magazines and comic books, though there are only a few different titles on the wooden display shelves.

      I see two Casper comic books next to each other. There are a few copies of each, vertically stacked. One is $4.53, and the other is $5.64. I decide to buy them, but I am not sure if I have enough money. An unknown chubby man of about twenty (who works in the store) picks one up to look through. I tell him that I had hundreds of Casper comic books collected over thirty years and that they were usually different. I add that sometimes there were reprints in digests and suggest their size by forming a small square with my hands. I tell him about those digest stories being “backed up” in the way I would describe how I back up my dream documentation online and on more than one drive.

      As I walk to the checkout counter on the opposite side of the store, he calls out, saying something about “sending backup.” The reference seems humorous or business-related rather than inferring police activity.

      I reach into my wallet and see that I have solely an American twenty-dollar note, which will suffice, even though I consider the prices on the comic book covers will be more when changing to the Australian amount.

      I pay the cashier, and as I get my change, I deliberately, though liminally, reset the scenario and leave without paying.



      When the emerging consciousness simulacrum (the chubby male) was talking about “sending backup,” it became a comically sarcastic reference to me subliminally resetting my dream to deliberately manipulate the function of RAS (reticular activating system) as the preconscious simulacrum in the second instance by “erasing” the cashier’s presence. I have utilized this sort of dream control and subliminal, liminal, and lucid manipulation since early childhood.


    2. Flying to a Library as Casper the Friendly Ghost

      by , 06-21-2017 at 10:26 AM
      Morning of June 21, 2017. Wednesday.



      I am in my bedroom in Cubitis (where I have not been in real life since the summer of 1978). There is not much furniture present other than a bed. My room is full of very shiny small gold nuggets and gold dust with a few piles of gold coins. It seems to be nighttime.

      I do not consider that my bedroom being filled with gold all over the floor from wall to wall is unusual in any way. I also do not consider that it is unusual that I am Casper the Friendly Ghost, in cartoon form. Wendy the Good Little Witch is visiting. There is no direct association with humanity at all.

      Snorkledorf, the Freakies Cereal character, though not associated as such by my dream self, is approaching from the west. Wendy and I know that we are in danger. He will most certainly eat all my gold and then eat us. We decide to flee. Wendy and I fly northwest, and although I phase through the wall as I am flying because I am a ghost (though I often do this as my more conscious-self-based dream self), Wendy does as well, which puzzles me briefly. Perhaps she quickly used her magic wand. For a short time, I am thinking that she could turn Snorkledorf into something else, but that might not prove to be feasible.

      We both fly north now. The area is no longer like rural Cubitis but not like a city block, either. The houses are close together, the backs of the houses facing each other, with shared backyards (an interesting dream distortion). Somehow, the area seems familiar or at least “correct” to me (even though it is entirely unique) and I decide to fly to the library. Wendy is no longer with me. I get the idea that Snorkledorf might be able to track our direction using his sense of smell, but that concern fades.

      In the unfamiliar library, I am “myself” to some degree. That is, my dream self identity is now human but there are not many threads of my current conscious self identity, though I have no dream-self memory of having just been Casper the Friendly Ghost. I discern my fictional dream self as when I was around twenty-five (even though I had not been in Cubitis since age seventeen). I “know” that the library is north of my home in Cubitis, the other side of Highway Seventeen from where the plant nursery would have been in reality (as well as the opposite side of the highway as my home was). As usual, this is the first time this fictional layout has ever been rendered. There was no public library in Cubitis.

      I look westerly at a tall wooden magazine rack and see a variety of magazines and comic books. I think I might buy a book I see in about the center of the rack, which is a graphic novel of perhaps sixty-four pages, though it feels thicker when I stroke the slightly irregular spine with my right thumb and index finger. Even though I am not familiar with its content and it does not seem all that interesting, I decide I will buy it as I read the price on it as $1.13; a dollar and thirteen cents. My dream self does not consider that, being in a library and probably not part of an ongoing book sale (though there are book sales at our local library in real life), that I could not buy it even though I plan to.

      I turn around and lean down upon a heavy wooden table to read the book more closely. There are a few other people seated at it, including a very chubby short-haired unfamiliar male on my right (south) of about twenty. As I lean upon the table while turning a couple pages of the graphic novel, the heavy table begins to tip to the point where its top is almost diagonal to the floor.

      “I’m sorry,” I say to the small group of people, as I catch and pull the table back upright before it is fully on its side.

      “If you could harvest that energy, you could solve the global energy crisis,” the chubby male says formally but cheerfully. I wake.



      • The gold in my Cubitis bedroom uniquely symbolizes all my dreams that I had documented and decoded in my youth.
      • Snorkledorf in this case symbolizes so-called dream interpreters. They “eat” (read) someone else’s dream without knowing what a dream is (what gold is for). They “trumpet” (as does Snorkledorf) an irritating out-of-tune fallacious “interpretation” with no understanding of personal value or experience or true meaning.
      • Being Casper and flying is a waking symbolism precursor. Flying is the main anticipatory form of waking from a dream. Some “experts” believe this evolved from our ancestors falling out of trees while sleeping, but other “experts” have other theories, such as unconscious confusion of the physical body being horizontal in sleep while residual threads of the conscious self identity are rendered as upright in the dream state. I am more inclined to believe the second theory.
      • $1.13, the cover price of the graphic novel, relates to how long I had been sleeping, an hour and thirteen minutes, a format I picked up from watching the timer on our DVD player so many times over the years. The graphic novel itself symbolizes being in the dream state.
      • It is curious that the personified preconscious (though already coalescing into my emergent consciousness) said “harvest” instead of “harness”. (“Harvest” would imply getting electricity from plants, thus I suspect it means on one level that I should eat more green vegetables for more energy.)
      • Thinking that Wendy could transform Snorkledorf with her magic relates to a conversation Zsuzsanna and I had prior to my dream. Neither of us have any answers for what is really wrong with much of humanity, regardless of how many times we had discussed it. This also relates to a recent analogy I came up with. Being an Internet dream journalist with over fifty years of experience is like being a heart surgeon with a detailed personal diary and additional book on anatomy. In the night, a person comes in through the window and scribbles in the margins “explaining” how the human body is run on hamster wheels…



      Updated 06-21-2017 at 10:55 AM by 1390

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      non-lucid