Recent DJ Posts

Morning of September 14, 2016. Wednesday.



I am at our present address where we live now, though eventually the layout becomes larger and quite different. I am looking for a letter that I had somehow misplaced within moments of reading it. Not only that, I recall at least four other versions of the letter that we had received over the last week or two. It relates to our oldest daughter having some sort of unusual medical concern regarding her back (which is relevant to Zsuzsanna’s younger half-sister, not any of our children) and perhaps needing to stay at a children’s hospice (even though she is an older teenager). I am annoyed, because the issue does not seem real and that it seems more like an incompetent intrusion by the government.

I look through a few piles of magazines and random papers, including piles of scholastic worksheets and unused coloring-in-pages (one featuring four rockhopper penguins on ice ledges of different heights), but cannot seem to find any of the copies of the letter. I tell Zsuzsanna that I do not know how all copies have seemed to vanish including the one I had just been reading at a desk.

Over time, as our residence slowly expands, I notice that our oldest daughter has gone into the left side of my wardrobe to sleep (while in a standing position). This does not strike me as unusual. I begin to hear her deep breathing through the closed wooden door.

I notice Dick Van Dyke (the actor, now 90 years old in reality), who is wearing a black business suit, walking around as if he is looking for something. He appears as he did in the late 1960s. I am not all that surprised and find it a welcoming visit. He stops near my wardrobe and puts his ear to the door. “Your daughter is very special,” he says sincerely, “she creates marvelous poetry”. He continues to press his left ear against the left door of my wardrobe and comments on the rhythm and beauty of her poetry, even commenting on particular stanzas that I myself do not hear, and even though she is asleep. (Our daughter is a very talented artist and she has done professional work for others at an early age, but she does not write much poetry.)

I finally start to talk to him by firstly addressing him as Richard.

“Richard?” he considers in a puzzled manner, not directly addressing me, but absentmindedly looking at the shelves of what is now a grocery store. My wardrobe is now perpendicular to the beginning of the aisle. “Richard,” he softly mutters, barely audible, and seemingly responding to an incorporeal voice rather than my actual presence. I conclude that I had unduly puzzled him and instead decide to formally address him by his surname. I cheerfully start to say “mister…” but then I somehow forget his surname. He does not acknowledge me at all but seems to be interested in studying the contents of the shelves, picking out a jar of orange marmalade (emerging consciousness metaphor), while I continue to wonder where the letters from the government are (subliminally waiting for my dream self’s ascent into whole consciousness as a letter symbolizes potential threads between dream self and conscious self in non-lucidity).

I go through a couple “rooms of our house” and end up near the entrance to “our house”, which is now the checkout area of the Woolworths grocery store. This does not seem strange to me at all. I look through a pile of papers near two different cashiers, but still cannot find a copy of the letter. I am not bothered by the unknown patrons being in our “home” which is now apparently solely a grocery store.

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This dream was typically precognitive (as there is a precognitive element in nearly all my dreams of one kind or another, often left unappended - in fact, over the last few years, at least one a day based on something my wife or daughter had thought of or mentioned to each other without me having any way of knowing), though in a rather skewed sense as is often the case. Zsuzsanna had returned from shopping with a sheet of paper (given out at the grocery store checkout) that was a coloring-in drawing for the promotion of a children’s hospice (featuring four hummingbirds, not four rockhopper penguins, though still in the same position regarding the birds). I find it amusing how dreams do this all the time, that is, foreshadow forthcoming events, but often in a “cleverly” altered way (though literally or visually exact in many cases).

Still, in contrast, there are the typical dream signs and standard components and waking transition. Our oldest daughter has gone to sleep (dream sign) in my wardrobe (secondary dream sign) and my dream ends with a typical waking transition symbol (a grocery store checkout symbolizing the leaving of the dream state). My preconscious personification (here, Dick Van Dyke) ended up “avoiding” me, or “failing to understand” as is often the case, but still lovingly commented on the nature of my family (just prior to the waking stage), the most important aspect of my life.

Night of August 4, 2015. Tuesday.



Even though I have only seen the “Uhny Uftz” episode of “The Dick Van Dyke Show” a few times in my life (the first occasion being September 29, 1965 on my sister’s television on Rose Street), it sometimes surfaces in my dreams as the autosymbolic model of vestibular system correlation.

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In my very vivid dream, I am in the same setting and scene as the image with this entry, and mostly lucid and in a very peaceful state. I recognize immediately what is going on, and, although the scene is a bit eerie, it shifts dramatically.

Instead of Dick Van Dyke continuing to remain pressing nervously against the windows of his office to see if he can make out the flying saucer presumed to be out in the night sky, he is suddenly on board the flying saucer (apparently alone, though this is uncertain, as I am watching the scenario while incorporeal) looking out over his building and city (even though in the show’s episode, it was only a toy flying saucer). He appears as he did around this time period (though he is now eighty-nine years old in real life). There is an amazingly comfortable sense of peace (even though I sense that he may not fully realize where he is or perhaps reflect he is dreaming). He remains standing and smiling and gazing out happily over the city below.

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I explain this dream type further in “Dreams of Type PRECONAV-VSCPCEL, 01-15”.

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Morning of September 19, 1971. Sunday.



In my dream, I am seemingly in Burns Park in La Crosse where I have not been in real life since early 1967. The setting is larger than in real life though, as well as with a more rural feel. Some of this dream seems to have monochrome scenes, which is extremely rare for me (though another dream in which King Kong appeared also had seemingly black-and-white scenes).

In the park, Dick Van Dyke is casually telling me the history of the two movie monsters in a somewhat “realistic” way, and it seems we have a few different meetings over time, including walking along in a peaceful Autumn scene and sitting on a park bench for a time. He seems to have a walking cane during at least a couple of the meetings but not all. This was possibly influenced by his role as the narrator in the 1970 television airing of “Born Free”. He even relates the supposed “personality” traits of King Kong and Godzilla; a sort of comparing and contrasting discussion; and he does this quite cheerfully and patiently as my dream unfolds. There is actually no threatening appearance by either of the giant monsters. Again, there is mostly a sense of peace and cheerfulness, even optimism.

In real life, when I had seen a black-and-white picture based on the “real” King Kong (from the original “King Kong” movie) superimposed with Godzilla (from an issue of “Famous Monsters of Filmland”) to falsely imply that King Kong was not actually a silly-looking man in a costume in “King Kong vs. Godzilla” (as well as being much lager than he originally was, so that even Fay Wray, held by Kong, appears as gigantic, even bigger than a skyscraper) I somehow expected something more “realistic” regarding the movie. When I remarked on my memory of the magazine picture later, I commented “I like the dragon” (just to make conversation, really). Classmate Steve J nodded as we were leaving the classroom, and he said, “Uh-huh, that’s Godzilla” and I felt a bit embarrassed for not having said “Godzilla” even though Steve did not seem that condescending about what I had said.

Later on, when I actually watched “Kingu Kongu tai Gojira” or “King Kong vs. Godzilla“ in English (made in 1962 and apparently first released on the 26th of June, 1963 in America) on television, with my father, we laughed uproariously through much of it.