• Lucid Dreaming - Dream Views

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    1. Reverse Transition in Liminal Space

      by , 04-16-2018 at 08:09 AM
      Morning of April 16, 2018. Monday.

      (When water induction subsides and my non-lucid dream self is left wandering in liminal space, subliminally attempting to gather threads of my conscious self identity in the waking transition.)

      My dream starts out on a public beach, yet at no point am I aware of the ocean. Apparently, Zsuzsanna and our children as they appear now are present, but I am eventually most aware of our youngest son being nearby.

      I come to understand that many children had lost their toys in the long stretch of beach sand. Here and there, I dig and I find mostly Lego; a lot of small bricks and a large one at times. I know that our youngest son will want some of them. There are also other parts found from older Lego kits, including plastic Lego figures. The sensation of digging with my hands is very realistic and vivid.

      (When my non-lucid dream self is still wandering about in liminal space and reaches an autosymbolic form relating to neural gating and the subliminal enigma of being between sleeping and waking.)

      I eventually reach a small square area on the beach that looks like some sort of ambiguous utility structure. It is somewhat like a small transformer station. Inside, on the ground, though there are a couple very small concrete partial floor sections, there are a few Lego platforms that have simple maze features and look as if they were designed to make a miniature maze by putting the platforms together as well as add separate smaller features over the connected platforms. These other pieces are mostly flat, but with sparse raised patterns (though raised less that a quarter of an inch) that imply part of a simple maze. I consider that our youngest son might enjoy them and I take them to put aside as well. I have a large plastic bag to put all the pieces in.

      (When atypical neural gating closes off more of my conscious self identity after being at this structure, the maze implying the potential return to dreamless sleep in this case, as I have not yet begun waking ascension.)

      Without paying any attention to the change of setting, I am soon digging in the wooden floor, though which is still somewhat like digging in beach sand, of the hall of the second storey of the King Street boarding house (where I have not lived since 1990), rendered as having a searchable essence as in a number of other recent dreams. At this point, even though my current conscious self identity was mostly extant at the beginning of my dream, I am now slipping back into a reversed timeline, where I do not realize I am in the “wrong” setting - and my current conscious self’s memory is now far less viable. Instead of Lego, which is autosymbolism for gathering and constructing my thoughts and identity, and to remember I have a young son, I lose that focus entirely and am now finding stones of an interesting appearance.

      Leonard S comes up to see me, though remains at the opposite end of the hall. He seems cheerful and is going to get some additional stones from downstairs. Meanwhile, the King Street landlady comes up to see what is going on and seems somewhat annoyed. She remains standing at the opposite end of the hall from me as well.

      (When my dream again subliminally focuses on the waking goal, and fails to initiate conscious self identity.)

      Eventually, I find a large magnetic object near a fictional window on my end of the hall. (In real life, there was not a window in this location, my dream falsely implying the end of that area of the house, but the door to Leonard’s room as well as a smaller hall perpendicularly leading to the right and the left open to a staircase to the downstairs area.) It is not a stone but some sort of unusual ovular (though irregular) magnetic object with at least three large flat magnets arranged around its surface. They are somewhat like oversized refrigerator magnets. Each magnet features a scene from “101 Dalmatians” from 1961. One magnet features dalmatians, including Pongo and Perdita, the others, the human cartoon characters Roger and Anita.

      A similar object is nearby. I consider that the objects are meant to be placed together. However, when I touch them together all the flat magnets fall off from each. I start talking about this event to an unfamiliar cheerful male who is now suddenly sitting in the window. I try it again, after placing the magnets back on, but they fall off again. I am trying to understand if this is “right” or not, but the unlikely scene and erroneous magnetism does not trigger lucid awareness.

      The personified preconscious atypically takes on the essence of reinduction (as with the personified unconscious but of which is most often female) and sits in a low-set window rather than standing by or within a doorway, its usual habitat. The magnets did not continue to stick when the two objects were joined, being autosymbolic of the failure of the conscious self to fully initiate (the window otherwise implying the potential exit point for this dream).

      To summarize dream specifics: Water (no longer present in this atypical dream sequence) subsiding from liminal space as the very common (since early childhood) tidal analogy of waking autosymbolism. Seeking to gather current waking life identity. Small transformer station as autosymbolism for RAS (Reticular Activating System). My dream self finds curiosity in the maze-like neural gating potential of the dream state and becomes distracted. Trading one liminal space for another (beach to hall). Personification of neural gating at dream’s outcome, which very atypically represents reinduction rather than waking.

    2. Finding a Place for my Mother’s Remains

      by , 08-04-2017 at 09:00 AM
      Morning of August 4, 2017. Friday.

      I am not of my conscious self, though there are a few threads in which I am aware of a few facets of my identity. I am not sure of my implied age; perhaps it is only about twenty. Mostly, I am only aware of my mother. My mother has recently died. However, I think I can talk with her by initiating some sort of will.

      The scene is distorted and my memory is askew. My mother is in the baby cot of our present address, though the baby cot unrealistically accommodates her full height. I do not see it as my present address (even though it is) as I have no discernible memory of my conscious self’s present living location. I speak to her, trying to will her eyes to open, on thought alone. It seems to work at times, but is she really okay with this act, or is she angry at me for “waking” her? Holding her eyes open by my mental will alone eventually seems a bit strange.

      I go into a room that might be considered to be my room in Cubitis, last seen in 1978, although I have no memory or viable association with Cubits and the room is different anyway. I realize that keeping my mother’s remains in the box from the Barnabas Collins “Dark Shadows” board game is proving to be problematic. I do not even consider that, realistically, my mother would never have fit in this little pretend coffin of cardboard. By way of a false memory, I know that other people are known to keep the bodies of the deceased around their house. It is not unusual; it is a tradition, and yet, a part of my mother’s remains have leaked from the bottom of the box, like acid from an old battery, reminding me of my Kenner Easy-Show movie projector being ruined by leaking batteries so that I could no longer repeatedly watch the same short Thor and Flintstones cartoons on my Cubitis bedroom’s south wall. (My mother had told me to throw out my movie projector, which had been a combined birthday and Christmas gift from my older sister Carol, and to not touch the leaking batteries that had ruined it.)

      The gore may be toxic and I am concerned that I had better not eat or touch my face or mouth until I wash my hands, so that no decaying syrupy gore poisons me. I spend a very long time washing and rinsing my hands under the bathtub faucet. The light is bright and I am actually in our present home, though I am not my conscious self and I have no clue to my real life status. I still have to find a place for the Barnabas Collins cardboard container with the plastic lid, which contains my mother’s remains, even though it is just a little box. I have to bury it somewhere. It is in too poor a condition to keep in the open now.

      There is some sort of temporary offset dream, where I find myself living on Barolin Street. Two unfamiliar men seem to think that I have taken their truck. They come in through the back way without even knocking. Apparently, the truck was at the front of my house. I certainly did not steal it. I was not even aware of it. These imposers annoy me. They come back a second time as if I had put it back and taken it again. I certainly had not taken it and tell them so. I do not even know what it looks like.

      I have to take care of my mother’s remains in the little Barnabas Collins “Dark Shadows” coffin. Her whole body somehow fits in there, with room to spare. She is on her back in this toy coffin from a board game that I had not seen in real life for many years. I decide to bury it inside a set of concrete steps in the Loomis Street backyard, which is also somehow the Cubitis front yard at the same time. The small set of steps does not go anywhere in particular.

      For seemingly a long time, as long as it took me to wash my hands, I dig with my hands in the sand. I feel the sand flowing through my fingers. I do not question how a step in a set of concrete steps could be or become sand, but this is where I will bury the toy coffin.

      I dig and dig with my hands, and the oblong hole keeps filling back up, not being quite deep enough for burial. Still, I persist with confidence.

      The concrete steps have somehow separated, and have transformed into, or have always been, small cardboard boxes of mostly paperback Gothic novels. The area of the ground I had been digging in looks untouched, and it is now normal soil. Will this work out?

      Updated 08-04-2017 at 12:19 PM by 1390

    3. Tunnel to Gnome Village (EILD)

      by , 02-23-2016 at 11:43 PM
      Ritual: Went to bed around 2am. Woke at 5:45 and fed the cat. Returned to bed and set vibrating alarm, attached to wrist. Interval was 30 minutes, set at 5:55am. Last time I used this device I completely slept through several vibration cycles (it was at the lowest setting), so I turned the intensity up slightly. The first time it went off I remembered to lay still, but could feel that I had already lost dreamstate. The second time it went off, my mind felt fully awake but I felt like I might still be integrated with my dream body. I tested movement cautiously and sure enough, I could swing my arms freely, unconstrained by the covers that I knew lay over them in WL. There were still a few moments when I couldn't quite be sure if I was engaging dream muscles or real ones, so in order to avoid sending the wrong signals, I started spinning and sliding my whole body until I felt like I was lying the wrong way in the bed. I didn't feel like I could safely engage my legs yet, so remaining on my back (though in WL I was sleeping on my left side), I slid across the bed and off the other side until I dropped gently to the floor. The cat was lying on me in WL (confirmed when I woke up afterward) and the sensation of warmth and weight bled through into the dreamstate, so it felt very odd and amusing to have this remain constant even while my self-perception of where I was in relation to the room and the bed was changing. I took care to note this WL sensation cautiously and with a certain mental distance, lest it startle me awake. The sensation faded naturally as I now "stood up" and walked through the house.

      EILD: I walk straight into the living room, which was dark, and stop to figure out what I should do. Although I have been trying to remember a few personal tasks, somehow it is easier to recall the TOTYs, so I figure I'll attempt another of those to start with. Most of them seem better suited to the outdoors, so I exit the kitchen patio door.

      My initial thought is to look for a circle of fairy mushrooms. My cement back patio is unusually life-like this time, so I cross it until I reach the fence that borders the property. In WL this is a low wall of beige-painted cinderblocks; in the dream it is a chain-link fence several feet taller than I am. With the lightness and agility of my dream body, I easily climb over it and drop down. In WL the ground slopes steeply downward here; for some reason in dreams, it is typically a steep hill going up.

      I start looking for fairy mushrooms among the trees, but notice a large area where the soil looks loose and disturbed, as if recently planted with the flowers that cover the expanse at regular intervals. The blossoms are very simple in structure, a small disk encircled by six delicate purple petals. I realize that I am unlikely to find a fairy circle in ground so recently landscaped, so I decide to pursue the gnome task instead. There are trees all around, but most look young, their trunks only a few inches in diameter. I look around for the biggest tree I can find, and approach one that is over two feet in diameter, conjoined with two similarly-sized trunks to make a row of three. I can't tell if they are three trunks from the same tree, or multiple trees that grew up in close proximity.

      The earth is still bare and loose here, recently tilled, so it is easy to dig my arms in and start casting it aside. I alternately cast the soil I'm displacing to the left and right and back between my legs. It is much easier to dig than it would be in WL, but it is still too slow and tedious to form a hole of the depth and dimensions I need, so I decide that I need a new strategy. If there are tunnels down there, there shouldn't be any need to displace the soil outside the hole—I should be able to drill straight through. I leave my hands in the earth and focus on pushing the soil inward. As a hole begins to form, I step in and will it to widen, so that I won't feel claustrophobic. When it is a few inches wider than my shoulders on either side, I take the plunge, willing the earth beneath my feet to drop into the tunnels and carry me along with it.

      I find myself in a network of spacious square hallways, about seven feet tall and wide. They are dimly lit by what seems to be electric light, though I don't investigate the source. There is nothing natural or even rustic about these tunnels—they might easily be the basement corridors of some ordinary building. I look around for evidence that they are the gnome tunnels that I am seeking, and find that the most distinctive thing about the space is the graffiti scrawled here and there on the walls. It is not high-end arty spray-painted graffiti, just ordinary lettering written in what looks like thick black marker. I step closer to one example and find it at once legible and unexpectedly funny: "Hobbits are HUGE!" It does sound like the sort of thing a gnome might write, so it gives me confidence that I've landed in the right place after all.

      I continue down the corridor, looking for more memorable examples of graffiti. The next piece that catches my attention says "SpiritLA." Something about the way it is written makes me think that this is a Los Angeles-based sports team that the gnomes apparently favor. A few steps further on, and I finally encounter the gnomes themselves, about six of them congregating in a junction where several corridors meet. There is also a sort of wire gate that appears to lead into a larger open space, though it is too dark to discern any details. Despite what the graffiti said about hobbits, these figures are pretty huge themselves, coming up almost to my shoulder, so I peer closely at their faces for evidence that they are in fact the gnomes that I seek. I am reassured by their features, which have distinctively rounded, gnomish features.

      "Hello," I say, curious how they will respond to my intrusion. "Hello!" they reply cheerfully, completely at ease. I have been voicing my observations (like the examples of graffiti) aloud in order to assist my recall later, so as I take note of the appearance of the gnomes nearest me, I make a vocal shorthand description of their characteristics.

      "Blonde, bangs, white dojo," I comment about the first gnome to approach me. She is a female wearing a gi (the garment used in karate practice), and though I know perfectly well what a gi is called in waking life, dream logic substitutes "dojo" instead. Her hair is long and straight, of a golden blonde color. Her gi is bound with a plain white belt. She smiles amiably.

      Another female gnome is standing to my right, so I note her appearance in turn, remembering that the task specifies interacting with two of them. "Pink padded blouse and white skirt, knee-length" I say, but even at the time I realize "padded" might not be the right word. "Quilted" would probably be more accurate, since it looks like there is only a very thin layer of batting under the decorative overstitching, done with curving and intersecting lines spaced about half an inch apart. I note that the skirt has the same kind of decorative stitching over thicker cloth, with no apparent batting inside, as the stitches lay flat. "Light hair, long—no, shoulder-length," I continue, noting that her hair is exceptionally pale, almost white, and delicately textured. The way it falls reminds me of how hair was "feathered" in late '70s/early '80s hairstyles. The faces of both females look ageless, neither young nor old. Neither seems disconcerted by my weird mutterings, they both just look at me with calm curiosity.

      Although I was able to make very detailed observations on the appearance of both, at this point I felt myself begin waking up and could not reverse the process. The EILD allowed me to time the dream precisely: it went off at 6:55 and I awoke at 7:04, so it only lasted nine minutes in all. Subjectively, it also felt very brief.

      Updated 02-26-2016 at 07:25 AM by 34973

      lucid , task of the year
    4. Ocean of Calm

      by , 12-23-2015 at 01:15 PM
      I had a couple of dreams I remember from last night.
      1st I was doing some crazy digging with some people, it was more like sculpting, of pavement and rocks under the ground. Then it all started to collapse so I pulled people out, eventually we got out.

      2nd I was on a boat, things were happening then we were going to run aground into a bay with fishing nets and people in the water and on a sandy beach.
      Nobody was going to do anything so in the end I got annoyed and I grabbed the controls, they seemed pretty easy to operate. Just some switches to flick to get things moving, accelerate etc and it responded instantly to my touch.
      Then I looked around me, I could stop of at the beach and swim/have breakfast or I could head round the coast, or as I looked at to sea, I thought I could go anywhere. A wonderful feeling of calm came over me.
      I realised i've had this background mood of panic all the time, but it subsided for a moment, to reveal an ocean of calm.

      Updated 12-23-2015 at 01:17 PM by 89275

      non-lucid , memorable
    5. Digging Through the Couch

      by , 05-19-2015 at 10:52 AM
      Morning of May 19, 2015. Tuesday.

      Scenes in dreams like the following, related to digging through something like a couch, the floor, or a mattress, have not been that uncommon throughout my life since childhood but are usually fairly different in detail. Also, finding stuff in our house that had been left behind by any previous tenants or landlord (not necessarily requiring any digging in every case) is also recurring - though again, with different details, including previously “hidden” rooms or furniture we somehow had not noticed before. In addition to the fair amount of time spent in-dream looking for and finding things, there is often a mild sense of disappointment as well as having wasted time in some cases upon waking; a mood I usually do not acquire from a dream. In fact, as a child, when I did not know any better, I had a habit of holding onto the last item I found steadfastly in a futile attempt to wake up with it and have it in reality, though obviously, that never worked. I sometimes woke gripping my pillow or the sheet; other times just making a fist.

      This dream has the recurring “couch filled with dirt” situation. My wife and I are in our present home on W Street and at one point I develop a vague curiosity about what may have been left behind by any previous tenants. It does not make all that much sense due to the fact that the couch, of the type that becomes a bed by the back dropping down (rather than the type we have in reality that folds out into a larger bed from under the seat) - and of the kind I had in Florida as a teenager for a time - is apparently our furniture in my dream (and thus moved here from a previous house regarding any in-dream back story, rendering my dream’s situation invalid). I start by ripping back the material near one end and digging through the dark dirt filling. At some points, I am able to go around the edges near the floor and find more items. Apparently, unlike in reality, there are no cushions; just “dirt bedding” within that goes all the way down to the floor.

      What I find is typical of my in-dream “treasure hunts”. I find a few old random paperback novels; some science-fiction, some romance, and even a western or two (all unfamiliar). I find a couple board games that likely have missing tokens. There are some old magazines, larger documents that look like order blanks from A4-sized catalogs, but not any comic books that I can see. Being buried in rich soil for however long has not ruined anything, it seems. I eventually notice what may be some of our own paperback books (and some other items) close to the wall but behind the couch and stacked loosely on the floor, but am not exactly sure where our books end and the previously hidden items begin at one point since the dirt had become looser and some items came out from the back of the couch.

      At one point, I find a longer mostly yellow commercial cardboard container (about one and a half feet by four inches high by eight inches wide) that apparently contains something related to sexuality or the enhancement thereof, though there are no graphic images on the box, just a few printed images of smooth paintings of the backs of a pair of female hands. For a short time, I think that I would probably not want something that belonged to someone else in this case, though the box turns out to be empty other than having two smaller additional featureless gray empty cardboard boxes inside. I am not sure what was in it - possibly only perfume containers or massage oils of some sort.

      Eventually, after sorting out mostly the paperbacks into stacks, I also find a number of children’s cardboard frame tray puzzles farther down but do not see the pieces at first (just the shallow cardboard trays). I do eventually find most of the pieces in another area when almost all of the dirt has been moved and I am down to the surface of the wooden floor. One puzzle seems to just utilize a large piece with a drawing of a person’s head that fits in the frame tray (which has minor details of the shoulders and neck, etc.), though others are more complex and “realistic” in nature and including pieces shaped like stars, apples, houses, etc. I notice that some of the pieces have been ruined by someone’s attempt to pull the different layers apart (as younger children sometimes tend to do), some with thin parts of the layers or strips still attached and a couple missing the imagery ply. I decide to keep them to sort out later (for our children) to see which ones are still complete and undamaged.

      After a long exploration and setting aside newly found items, I am somewhat frustrated over having reached the wooden floor via the couch, wondering if I should keep going with my quest, though which would require pulling up the planks to get to anything underneath them (which does not make any sense as in reality our house is up on posts and you can actually see through the floorboards to the ground below). I am also puzzled over what had happened to all the dirt since the couch seems somewhat “hollow” at this point (at least on one end) and I do not see any piles of dirt nearby. I do start to smooth over what dirt is left at the other end in the attempt to make the couch “solid” and evenly surfaced as it was, so that it is properly comfortable again. (This is somewhat illogical as the upholstery I had ripped and damaged in my quest would still need to be repaired.)

      Finally, I seem to be able to look down under the house and beyond (towards the back of our house) and under a different room; some sort of odd viewpoint that would not be possible in reality (though which may otherwise imply some sort of open space between the lower part of the wall in the next room and the floor, similar to the setup way back on Rose Street as a young child). I see that there are a very large number of small wooden containers under the house in a (fictional) enclosed storage area, each filled with a very large number of vertically arranged seed packets, which I am aware are likely mostly edible plants including carrots, celery, lettuce, strawberry plants, and so on. I start to consider planting them everywhere and anywhere, as there are so many, we are bound to get something edible over time, and for a long time, as there seem to be thousands of packets. I wake up feeling slightly annoyed at having wasted time finding everything.
      Tags: couch, digging
    6. The Variable-Sword

      by , 12-22-2014 at 05:53 AM (Xanous' Dream Journal)
      #392 - WILD - 3:44AM

      Almost an hour WBTB with some meditation and the usual Galantamine dose.

      I focus on body awareness and quickly enter into a very long transition in vibrations and SP. I use every trick I can think of to get the dream going but it's being very stubborn. I forget most of the sensations, but it was all very typical for me and only mildly interesting. Eventually, I find myself floating listlessly above the foot of the bed. I look up and see the floor. I am upside down so I reach for the floor landing on all fours. I crawl out of the bedroom into the living room, heading for the front door. I feel very weak and gravity is extra heavy. The dream is very unstable and non-vivid but it's all I've got right now. I continue to crawl, making very little progress. I know I need to stand, but the thought of it seems impossible. I tell myself, "Don't be a pussy." as I use all my will to stand up.

      As I stagger to the front door I see a line of dead bolts spin to the unlocked position. I was grateful for this, because the thought of manually unlocking all them seems like an impossible task at the moment. I feel hopeful as I reach outside but the dream is still really unstable. I float to the grass in the yard and feel with my hands as I revert back to crawling. I note the texture and feel as my legs drag across long blades. I recall Jenkees' dare to have theatrical music and try to conjure up something. The Indiana Jones Theme song begins to play in my ears. This is all wrong for the moment so I shake the sound out my mind. At this point the dream decides to crash.

      I wake up feeling mentally exhausted and decide to hope for DILD later. I mantra "Remember mindfulness" as I fall back to sleep.

      #393 - DILD - 4:07AM

      Quote Originally Posted by From Ringworld, by Larry Niven.
      "I have a variable-sword," said Speaker-to-Animals. "I urge calm." The kzin stood against a curved wall. In one clawed fist he held something like an oversized jump rope handle. Ten feet from the handle, held expertly at the level of the kzin's eyes, was a small, glowing red ball. The wire which joined ball to handle was too thin to be visible, but Louis didn't doubt it was there. Protected and made rigid by a Slaver stasis field, the wire would cut through most materials including the back of Louis's crash couch.
      I am at an old slave house back in the 1800's. The door is boarded up but I manage to breakthrough. I feel compassion and want to free them all. I load everyone up into covered wagon and try to think of a way to get them to the underground railroad.

      I have a mini wake-up but fall right back to sleep. I am now in a mixture of my basement and the old dirt floor garage from a house I lived in as a child. I am mindlessly digging up the dirt floor wanting to make a tunnel. As I do this I recall the previous dream. I notice how odd it is that the dirt just vanishes as I dig. It's very minecraft-life. After a moment I pause and stare out a window in a door. Something feels off. I remember to be mindful and quickly recognize this as a dream.

      I step outside now unconcerned with digging. I quickly recall one of my goals. I want to revisit the lightsaber play from a non-lucid dream that I had last week while taking another stab at the theatrical music. Recalling the visuals, I blind summon a red lightsaber and give it a few spins. It looks good at first but the light quickly fades out as I walk around the house. I come around the side and see a very strange and distorted version of my Dodge with all sorts of attachments jutting out from the sides.

      I look at my lightsaber, but it only look like a laser pointer as I stare at a red dot on the driveway. I decide this is ok because it is now a variable-sword like the one in Ringworld. I flick my wrist and make a cut at one of the chrome appendages on the car. I see it slice a very thin line but it doesn't fall off. I go ahead and give a tap making the thing drop away. I make another slash at the side-view mirror with the same effect. Ok that's kind of cool. Now I need my music. I try to summon something, but all I get is random humming in my head that sounds pretty weak and ridiculous. I let it go for now and wonder around with my sword.

      To my left, I see smoke from a something like a brush pile, and to my right, I see a tree covered with Christmas lights. I am torn between the two; looking back-and-forth. This seems to do something strange with my eyes causing my eyelids to flit open, waking me up.
    7. Annoying Neighbors the Second Lot Up

      by , 12-17-2014 at 06:17 PM
      Morning of December 17, 2014. Wednesday.

      This was a longer dream, but not much happens other than the typical aspects of this recurring dream type (imposing strangers).

      In this case, we are living in a fictionally-rendered version of the area my sister’s house would have been on Loomis Street. It is a bit like our present house, but rotated and in a different part of the block (to “take the place” of the real house there). I am not sure what country is implied regardless of it being mostly like Loomis Street in overall layout. Instead of having a next-door neighbor to the (implied) north (as would have been the case in reality), the closest house is of the next lot down. However, we may also be responsible for the land in the additional lot next to us, which is mostly empty. Oddly, there is no fence in that direction (which of course is very unrealistic to people with experience as parents). As with another recent dream, the opposite direction to where the main in-dream focus is is not defined at all.

      The other house seems to be some sort of halfway house for both homeless juveniles (who had committed crimes) and mentally-challenged orphans. There are a few points in my dream where they just seem to be standing around staring at our house (from various areas on the front stairs as well as from a couple different windows) when I happen to look up a few different times - as I had been working in the yard.

      A friendly mentally-challenged young male (who reminds me of a younger version of the pinhead I knew from King Street) actually comes into our yard and mows the lawn in back. However, after a time, he also starts digging in the center of the yard for no apparent reason. This is a bit annoying but I do not say anything or show any anger at any point in my dream.

      Updated 09-10-2015 at 04:09 PM by 1390

      Tags: digging
    8. Human Remains on Hillside, But Not

      by , 04-21-2013 at 10:21 AM
      Morning of April 21, 2013. Sunday.

      It seems my non-lucid dreams recently are in a trend where they play out like a “cry wolf” scenario. My volcano dream reported last is a good example (which utilized transformations of one feature into another) and there was even an additional humorous implied “cry wolf” plot twist where the actual (potentially dangerous) mudslide could have been the rock tumbler breaking, but no one responded (although there was no negativity or fear).

      In this new dream, I am with friends from different time periods, including school days (possibly because I now interact with them somewhat in a limited way on Facebook).

      We are climbing a fairly steep hill, but I do not have any difficulty in doing so. However, I do have concern about how high I am relative to stable standing areas (wondering about the nature of their solidity and possible eroded areas). I also feel that I am getting into better shape (and losing a bit of weight to increase my life span) by doing this.

      As we climb fairly high (with no equipment) near a lesser-used park area, I notice a human hand and partial arm sticking out from the ground near some tree roots about ten feet above us, on the diagonal slant to the north. Even though it has probably been there at least several years, it is neither bony nor decayed in any way.

      I rapidly descend the steep hill with little effort and go off to a park station to call out about “human remains” (in almost the same way I waved and shouted “volcano”, followed later by “mudslide”, in one of my last dreams). They had not been found for some time, I guess, because that is an area that is not used as much by the public.

      When I get back (via easier access from another area to the east, where there is a steep road that can be reached by jeep), my friends had uncovered the rest of the “human remains”, which turn out to be a mannequin in fairly new condition. (However, in my dream, the park ranger refers to it as a “doll-man” instead of a mannequin.)

      Taking a closer look at this one again, and the elevated hillside setting (meaning closer to conscious self identity), the “human remains” which turned out to be a mannequin could be a distorted subliminal conscious awareness of my real physical body (as dolls and mannequins typically represent the inactive conscious self in real time).

      The usual precognitive element was to a lesser degree in this dream. I had today noted that my oldest daughter’s newer report included the artist John Dollman (late 1800s), and there was also a doll in the reviewed painting. It was about the unknown dangers and concerns of immigration and travel.

      Updated 11-30-2016 at 11:01 AM by 1390

    9. Underground Christmas Ornaments

      by , 12-25-2009 at 06:25 PM
      Morning of December 25, 2009. Friday.

      I am in the backyard of our present address. Although there is not that much of a focus on this morning being Christmas (especially as my dream self is only rarely aware of what year it is, let alone the date), I see Christmas ornaments protruding about a quarter up from where there is only dirt in the far backyard. Most of them are spherical and of one color, though I find more detailed ones when I dig more. I consider that it is an unusual place to store ornaments as such, as they will require cleaning each year.

      Eventually, I also start to discover and uncover a few gold and silver coins as I dig (though remaining uncertain of the value or country of origin), some of which have a few holes in them, as if eroded. At this point, there is ambiguity. It now seems I am digging in dirt beneath the floorboards of our lounge room (though this occurs ambiguously, while I still perceive myself as being outside). (In reality however, this would not be possible, as our house is suspended above the ground on stumps.)

      Updated 03-25-2018 at 06:47 AM by 1390

    10. Helicopter Digger

      by , 07-23-1987 at 01:23 PM
      Morning of August 23, 1987. Sunday.

      I am with Leonard S on a fishing trip at Pettibone Park, across the bridge from where we live on the south-side of La Crosse and where we often fish in real life. I believe it is late morning. There is an idea that the authorities might soon be here to “investigate” our fishing methods even though we are not doing anything wrong. After a short time, a helicopter appears in the sky overhead. Soon, it seems to have some difficulty staying up. It ends up moving down onto the ground at an angle, close to the riverbank, so that the rotor blades hit the ground and then seem to become like some sort of digging machine as dirt flies up - and the helicopter goes farther into the ground almost like it was designed to (and the rotor blades do not break, they just keep turning and digging, pulling the helicopter deeper into the ground).

      From here, for some reason, my dream then only focuses on Leonard’s profile which takes on a rather odd insect-like appearance and his eyes seem to project visible dashes (a series of short “lines”) in the air, moving out horizontally from them in an old-fashioned-comic-strip-like indication of where he is looking (as if he is extremely puzzled by the helicopter’s “slow-motion” accident unfolding before him). He is still supposedly completely human. My dream becomes vague and partly abstract at this point.

      Leonard in this case stands for my dream self and temporary waking self hybrid (present in many dream types but not all). He is very puzzled over why the waking mechanism failed and instead went on to “dig deeper into the dream state”. However, the short lines that project from his eyes create a virtual highway (or an implied linear pathway), a highway (or in fact any implied pathway) being a conduit for either deeper induction or the waking transition.