Evening of January 11, 2018. Thursday. This is from a shorter nap this evening, which is typically more vivid and with a direct awareness of what my dream is doing symbolically (especially in lucidity). I am lucid, though not with the conscious control factor, as I allow myself to comfortably drift in liminal space. I am in the higher liminal space, just on the threshold of vaguely perceiving my real environment, thus the symbolism is inherent to this state, which uses a common liminal space divider as the neural pattern representation, which is a wooden fence. I focus on the gate and notice the top hinge is missing (which symbolizes the event horizon of dream state cessation). I feel like sleeping a few minutes longer to sustain my dream and its vividness, so I find myself with a hammer and start nailing a small stick into the area where a hinge would otherwise go. However, this also implies that the gate might not feasibly open, at least normally. Still, my dream self vividly announces, “It might be all right.“ Even so, my realization of the symbolism’s meaning causes a simultaneous shift, though without spontaneous muscle response (as is otherwise sometimes the case). I now become aware, in an offset dream, of a section of gate in undefined space. It is floating vertically, not attached to anything. I catch myself saying, “Steve…are you aware of what’s going on?” and wake. (This is me attempting to communicate with RAS - Reticular Activating System, of which I am directly aware I am doing in this case, which is usually passive unless I have been sleeping longer in a normal sleeping period. Calling it Steve is just a randomly retrieved thread, as I had not thought of him recently.) Despite symbolism in dreams being directly related to the state of sleep induction, unconsciousness, and the waking transition (which most people in the world bizarrely fail to understand at all, including so-called experts and professionals), it does sometimes incidentally borrow from recent experiences at times (even including the most emotional situation seen on television when it otherwise has no relation or connection to waking life). Yesterday, I went to borrow a wheelie bin from the house next door, which is presently vacant, and found that the gate to the back yard was not feasibly set up. It did not seem to have proper hinges and just sat there in a vertical position, held by the bolt lock. (However, my dream’s gate was only about one-third the size and wooden, not metal like the real one.) The name I mention is a classmate’s, who I have not seen since 1976. (I have not even seen him on Facebook.) I do not actually see him in my dream but I do have an awareness of his memory as he was at around fourteen. Still, the main memory of him relates to childhood, where he wanted to quickly borrow a set of Whitman cards I had, which had an animation (on the back of them) when all the cards were flipped, which displayed a rabbit hopping into a hat, the hat moving about, and a dove flying out. He said that if I let him use the cards for a time, he would “like me forever” (and be my friend forever). Not believing a word of what he said, I still cheerfully let him have my cards. He immediately raced to the other side of the playground to show them to a girl. The girl seemed completely unimpressed and even annoyed, and just walked away. I found the scenario very amusing, but I never reminded him of it in all the time we were in school.
1/6/2018 Something about Jack Black driving in a car and racing us/street racing. Cops pull us over and we are in a jungle.Everyone saw a snake wrapping itself around my left lower leg and foot. I shook it off and ran. I remember being in a yard that was sectioned into four parts by wooden privacy (tall) fence. It was kind of like a movie set with four different locations. I was in one of the quadrants and I was holding a gun/rifle/shotgun? (lol i dont know) and trying to shoot at birds. I got down to the ground and saw a tiny opening in one of the fences and went to it. There was this small duck sound caller thing that a Swan gave me. lol.
Morning of August 18, 2017. Friday. I seem to be in bed with Zsuzsanna. However, our bed seems to be in the backyard of our present home with our heads oriented south (with the same left and right orientation as we are sleeping in reality). It is full daylight out. Still, there is an odd sense of bilocation of which is not defined in the usual way. A boy of about ten years old comes into our backyard a few times from our neighbor’s backyard. He is unknown and unfamiliar, though implied to be the neighbor’s son (though this “neighbor” is also an unknown character). I display a bit of anger and aggression and he goes back each time, somehow going over the fence, though it seems somewhat like the old metal fence that was not very high. He has a somewhat condescending nature. My awareness shifts and my dream changes orientation. Now our bed is in the Loomis Street living room, our heads west, opposite the front entrance. Once again, the boy is imposing by coming in through the front door, which may have been left open. I do not express much anger. His father, an unknown chubby male of about thirty and with red hair, also comes in through the door as if he had been uncertain as to where his son had gotten off to. I nod and I do not express any anger at the imposition of either, almost as if their ridiculous intrusions do not matter at this point. The other man seems friendly and calm. Nothing relevant to waking life (on a personal level) is to be found here; just the usual dreaming and waking symbolism, here rendered as doorway waking symbolism, though in many cases, a distorted rendering of the emergent consciousness, mixed in with dynamics of the preconscious (sometimes as a “monster”) remains within a doorway rather than viably using a door or doorway. I can only guess that these two unknown characters were related to unconsciously perceiving (remote viewing) random unknown people in the area as I was sleeping, the boy linked into the transpersonal stream via the preconscious while his father linked to the emergent consciousness, a dynamic that has often occurred in past dreams. The fence is a clue, as a fence symbolizes a division in levels of consciousness within the dream state and of course our being in bed is simply an indicator of being in the dream state. It has remained obvious through tens of thousands of dreams for over fifty years, that the transpersonal preconscious stream integrates found personas that are the least like the conscious self identity, for that is the only real way, excluding willing coalescence, that the dream self attains enough emotion (through aggravation, conflict, or other emotions) to come out of the dream state under many conditions. Otherwise, the “ripples” of neural energy are unlikely to increase and the dreamer would remain in the dream. Waking and waking prompts are a biological necessity, yet most of humanity does not even come close to grasping the simplest concepts concerning dreams or their purpose or meaning.
Morning of May 9, 2017. Tuesday. I am in a setting which seems to be modeled somewhat after the Loomis Street backyard, though there is the typical ambiguous feeling of being indoors and outdoors at the same time. The north fence is present but higher than in real life. There are a few unknown people present. I am aware of a set of parallel walls. There are at least five or six in a row and only about four feet apart. The first wall, farther south from the real fence, is made of old stones. A couple walls are more like the inside of a house. There is some sort of sense of wanting to explore. The main scene involves an unknown male opening a door between two walls, and this event is somehow duplicated simultaneously between two different walls, and yet it is also the same man. I believe this is the first time this has occurred in a dream.
I was working with some toolkit that allowed me to create levels. I placed a small fence on grassy terrain.
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
Morning of December 12, 2015. Saturday. Dream #: 17,890-02. Reading time: 1 min 56 sec. In my dream, my wife Zsuzsanna and our children and I are living in an unfamiliar residence. It is uncertain whether it is the front yard or backyard where the events occur. There is a big shed to my right (from the perspective of the doorway), so it may be our backyard. Two of our sons are playing. I notice our neighbor (an unfamiliar dream character about my age, but I seem to be younger) is cutting down one of our big trees from his side of the fence (my left), slightly above its height, closest the alley or street. (I should assume alley as it is probably the backyard.) It puzzles and angers me because trees provide shade and keep the yard cooler. I start yelling about it from our doorway though there is no reason why he would hear me due to the noise of his chainsaw. The tree falls into his yard. For a moment, I wonder if he had misjudged what he was doing and was struck by it, but that is not the case. He goes on to cut down an additional tree of ours that is slightly smaller and closer to our house. I cannot believe his audacity. However, I consider that our trees may have possibly caused problems by their roots being problematic, perhaps relating to issues with the fence itself or something on his property. I tell Zsuzsanna about it. The room is unfamiliar, and another door to the backyard is present though open. Our neighbor, who does not look like anyone I know, walks into our house with an angry look. I assume this is because he heard me yelling at him. “You have no business just waltzing into our house,” I say sternly and assertively. Another unknown male also comes into our house. He is younger, perhaps in his late thirties. He may be a man who was also in our neighbor’s yard and helping him. I walk over to him and punch him hard in the jaw, followed by another punch in the nose. He does not move back but sways slightly. He does not attempt to strike me. Much to my surprise, the other male also starts punching him from his left. I continue to hit him from his right. The other male punches him hard in the stomach a few times. I grab the bar (no weights) of a dumbbell to swing and hit him directly in the jaw again, three times. He almost falls. The other male does not look at me and continues to fight him. For a moment, I think the other man may think my usage of the metal bar is “unfair,” but he never speaks or stops punching the older male. I wake while wondering if the older man angered the younger man by trespassing into our house or otherwise annoying him. dream type: subliminal preconscious wall mediation
Morning of October 10, 2015. Saturday. This is a set of three shorter dreams in which one shifted into the other with only partial wakefulness. The first involves being at an unknown location near a river bank. My wife Zsuzsanna and I are watching alligators swim through the water every now and then, just under the surface. A few other people are walking around. The alligators do not really seem threatening. Eventually I notice how a few of them look very different from normal alligators, though mostly around the head. I point out that it seems someone is apparently doing strange experiments with dinosaur DNA or possibly even living dinosaurs and alligators, as each alligator seems to have minor features from a known dinosaur, one having a head somewhat like a Tyrannosaurus, the other like a Styracosaurus, though flatter and more alligator-like. I even manage to pull the Styracosaurus alligator out of the water and partly onto the bank so that I can show people what I mean. After a partial awakening and back into sleep, my wife and children and I are back on Barolin Street, except that all of the houses north of ours (as in reality) are gone and the area is replaced by a large field of mostly short grass and which is bordered by a fence adjacent to the sidewalk. Only a few other people are around farther to the north. An unnaturally large Tyrannosaurus, probably about twice as large as any real one ever was, is walking about in the field as if being kept there by the small fence, which is only about the height of an average human waist. I see another Tyrannosaurus nearby, about three lots beyond the first one. In the back of my mind, I sense a part of myself contemplating how I will change my dream from an uneventful one into one where we are chased by the dinosaurs. (This vague awareness of making my dream in real time which also occurs with clearer awareness in indescribable abstract dreams has occurred since early childhood, though there is no hint of lucidity otherwise.) The Tyrannosaurus moves his head down, leaning forward, and smashes down the tiny fence with his head, as if the tiny fence was somehow keeping him in the field when all he needed to do was just step over it without even noticing. I find this scene somewhat comedic, pondering the seeming low intelligence of the creature. I tell everyone that we need to go back to our house, as the dinosaur is now loose. It is soon moving very fast in our direction though the other one seems to be considering which direction to go (as there are more unknown people to the north). We go onto our porch, though the door to the main entrance and hallway is locked. From here, I non-lucidly manipulate my dream by rewinding it, pausing it, and jumping about in terms of sections of previous events. In my next dream, we are inside the Barolin Street house, in the living room, I think. I am near the center of the room sitting on the floor. For some reason, I am practicing my firing of projectiles, which are actually finger bones from my hand. I somehow pop them out from my skeletal hand and fire them across the room (with a force that carries them to the wall, a few hitting a desk). I do this at least twelve times with all twelve of the phalanges of my right hand (not counting my thumb). I somehow continue with my left hand (not realizing it would not be possible as my right fingers are all gone). Looking down at my own skeleton, I see that I must have also already used some of my ribs at an earlier date. It is no problem, as I will eventually probably snap all my bones back into place later on. (This may have something to do with the difficulty we had in snapping together the life-sized Billy Bones model kit a few months ago.)
Morning of July 7, 2015. Tuesday. My dream starts out like a typical imposer dream. The setting is our present house on W Street, though there is a slight change in the layout relative to size. My wife Zsuzsanna is sitting near our front window (sewing, I think, though her sewing machine is in our living room in reality) where there is more of a view of the neighbor’s house. I notice that the fence design is different. The thinner wooden planks had supposedly been horizontal (rather than vertical as in reality) but are now mostly decayed and lying on the ground. However, the first section of fence about three feet into the front yard division is still standing and made of brick - and is at least five feet high. There is a group of at least four young males. One of these males steps over the rotted planks into our front yard and this imposition immediately annoys me. I am thinking of going out and making sure they stay where they belong, but he goes back on his own. I speak about continuing the front part of the fence by putting more bricks in (not thinking about cost or work effort). From here, I am concerned about the longevity of our wooden house. These thoughts do not result in any threatening event manifesting even though I consider the possibility of parts of the ceiling falling on us. Diverse features of the ceiling and the angles and differences in height in different areas are far more complex than in reality. I am outside for a short time. I notice that one section of the sky to my right is different than to my left; a very distinct green color, which makes me think a really bad storm is on the way, perhaps a tornado (even though the sky to my left to the west seems normal and calm). I go into our house, concerned about the possibly approaching bad weather. As I shut our front door, there is resistance and a pulling sensation and I think that it might be an imposing neighbor trying to get in to assault someone or burglarize, though it turns out that the door will not fully shut due to a large circular (slightly wreath-like) clump of grass being blown into the doorway above the doorknob and being stuck between the door and door frame at about shoulder level (mostly due to my closing the door so quickly that the grass did not have time to fall, the additional pull being caused by the wind). However, I do manage to get it closed. From here, I join Zsuzsanna and our youngest son, and the inside of our house then seems longer, though narrower, north to south, almost hall-like. There is soon a very eerie and human-like low-pitched howling of the wind, which we first think may be an old man or creature moaning just outside our front door. We end up still running, but in a sort of playful manner upon realizing the circle of grass stuck in the closed door is making a feature to cause sound to amplify and phase in this way. The next scene involves other people being in our house, apparently by permission or just random passive characters coming into existence. Regardless of the weather concern, I sit down to consider a very large game board (about three feet by about one and a half feet) that has several different simultaneous game scenarios at once (though seemingly not at all related to each other). I take it apart (the board seems to have small joints whereby smaller sections connect), separating a section that appears to have some sort of Egyptian strategy game in progress (so that the other sections of the board displaying different cultures and battle scenarios do not distract from the seemingly individual game). The two buildings in the opposition look more like ziggurats than pyramids, though. I do not really reflect on why a person or group of people would have so many different things going on at the same time on the same game board. I am not interested in playing it now. An older male sits on the couch (its position has changed; it is perpendicular to its location in reality; it faces east rather than north), apparently talking to a young Ava Gardner (December 24, 1922-January 25, 1990) - probably related to the fact that my wife had checked out a “Perry Mason” DVD set in real life (thus a distorted Erle Stanley Gardner association). I am not sure what the scenario is; perhaps he is coaching her in her acting, though he is seemingly her agent. I go over and notice that she is dressed in lacy black and is sitting back with her arms back (and knees up) on the floor. I grab her heels and lift them slightly. She then transforms into a Tweety Bird foil balloon (shaped like Tweety Bird in frontal silhouette) of about three feet long. I end up whacking the balloon by her “feet” (the balloon of which is still somehow her) against the floor (though I am not even focused on why) with a slight wariness that I probably should be doing something else.
Updated 02-22-2017 at 09:17 AM by 1390
#431 - DILD - 3:00AM I really had a lot of wakefulness this night and spent an hour up with my legs until I was able to lay back down and have my second LD for the night. I am messing with a tall chain-link fence and gate. I was needing to get something from the pasture, but nothing is working right. Then the sky lights up from lightning and the wind picks up. I worry that the lightning will let the zombies see me. Then the lightning lights up the sky a purple color for several seconds. I hear some loud sound like machinery and thing the thunder is odd but will also get the zombies active. I get the fence together and just head for the old country house. Several cartoon zombies rush at me and I pick up a dry twig from the ground and stab them in the skull. My fear turn to delight and I enjoy doing battle with the undead. I may my way over to and RV and Rex jumps out to help fight. I now slowly become lucid and forget about the zombies. There are large green barrels rolling down and me I Hulk smash them out of my way as they come. I feel super powerful and want to Hulk smash zombies so I come out into the open. It is now day time and I am wading through deep snow, but it doesn't slow me down at all. I shout out taunts at the zombies in a strange voice, "Ooooh yeah. Come one fucker mother fucker. Give me something to break. Break your fucking face." I look around, but there are no more zombies. I deduce that dreams run on emotion, so since the fear is gone so are the zombies. I walk around and find another RV. I feel the dream fading and I try to focus, but I wake up.
Late entry, but better than nothing. I was outside on a cool spring day, in someones back yard of their house. i was at the edge of their property where there was a chain link fence with some pine trees lining it on either side. the grass was well cut, but not very vividly green. it was later in the evening, the sun was going down, the orange rays of the sun going down across the land. I had a all black pellet gun, and was trying to shoot a squirrel that was on one of the trees. I missed a few shots but got up close an finally got it. it fell quickly. I picked it up and tossed it over the chain link fence. over the fence was an immediate slope down to the road and the squirrel fell in the open, i was worried some one would see and i hoped over to move it down into the bushes. very short, yet very vivid dream. remembering it feels as thoug i was there 5 mins ago.
I was in what appeared to be a particularly bland examination room; everything was white or silver, and there was no decor in sight. I was aware that I was there under false pretenses; my brother and father and I had been tricked into a high-security facility that experimented on its involuntary patients. I found the door to be unlocked, and made my way down a maze of identical white hallways littered with medical equipment. Countless doors undoubtedly led to countless more examination rooms, two of which contained my family members, and dozens of white doctors with light-colored hair and long white coats bustled about, ignoring me entirely. I managed to find my younger brother in one of the rooms. Despite the labyrinthine layout of the facility, I was able to instinctively move in the right direction. Will and I then searched together for my father, who we found to be looking more than his age, and sickly. He was still able to keep up as we all began our escape. We quickly found ourselves in a new section of the building, where the amount of staff around us multiplied and closed doors were replaced by glass looking into large, near-empty rooms, most containing a single table with an unconscious individual lying upon it. Many doctors were observing these rooms, occasionally looking down to scribble notes on a clipboard. The increased number of staff combined with the suspicious appearance of our group prompted us to look for disguises. We found a sort of locker room with hangers covering the walls, a few of which held lab coats. We each donned one before continuing onward, but mine had many tiny buttons, and I found myself left behind as I struggled to fasten them. I ran to catch up. Time skipped ahead and I found myself in a woodsy area, supposedly the grounds of the facility we were escaping. My family was nowhere in sight, but I assumed them to be safe. I was more concerned with the battle going on around me: many young adults were struggling to fend off otherworldly creatures as they, too, tried desperately to escape. I recall in particular a giant spider - think Aragog - pinning a man to the ground as he cried out for help. Many of these people seemed to know me, and I them, for we called out to each other with updates on the situation. I was told to make a run for it, and ran over a small hill covered with fallen leaves, landing in a shallow ditch. I was confronted by only a small, metal chain fence, easily climbed over. Before I could attempt to do so, however, I found myself awake.
Guiding someone along a path, I send them around a river as I navigate the rocks and earth in the middle wearing waterproof boots. I slip and fall in the icy water up to my waist, feeling the water get in my boots. Happy they are dry, I ignore the accident and we move on. Reaching an adorable old city made from red stones, we take a break to eat. Many meditators are also relaxing here for a lunch break, having a good time together. A woman tells us all that it's time to go back for the next meditation, and we all get up and start walking along the road. I follow them this time rather than taking the cold river pass. Suddenly, I am somewhere else almost like a time traveler, but without the continuity, rather a gradual fading out and back in. I think it would be nice to go back to that town from earlier, and set out down the road toward it, this time in the evening. I find myself on a longboard, and enjoy the ease of travel along the flat road. As I approach the town, I see it is now fenced off, and a van is parked just inside a chain link gate. I roll closer and some people see me. They are doing something that would upset others and cause trouble if more people knew about it. To protect themselves, they try to kill me in case I might tell someone. Quickly turning around, I kick off fast and tuck into a speedy position on the board. Despite going uphill now, I manage to gain speed just through willpower as I outrun those guys in their van. I turn down a dark road, and lose them. Hopefully for good. A guy approaches me as I am looking at dark places to hide along the road - in a tree, next to a fence, etc; and he tells me there is a key to the car right underneath it, and points to a car in a nearby parking lot.
This girl I like turned herself into an animal for fun, and she suggested I do the same. I met her out in a field by a fence row. She was a beautiful exuberant fox, and she was excited to see me. I tried turning into a fox, but I ended up as a... fish.
Morning of September 19, 2014. Friday. In my dream, I am in a seemingly unknown building though of which has aspects as a possible composite that includes the Cubitis living room and our present home’s living area. At one point, there is some sort of telephone call or paging for me, but the call comes from some sort of intriguing larger coin-operated video game of the kind from the mid-1980s. This does not seem unusual to me. I press a button under the top front edge of it to take the call by way of a small hidden microphone and the (unrecognized and remaining unknown) caller’s voice comes from the speaker of the machine. Supposedly, I am to do some sort of job which may relate to mowing and maintaining a public building. I had done work like this (with several others) in a previous dream at either a shopping mall or hospital (or both in being in the same area). There seems to be something else, though - something mysterious and possibly relating to another job regarding surveillance or detective work. My voice sounds a bit unusual; not like mine, but like a fairly young boy’s (though not like I really sounded as a boy). In any case, the caller says that I sound like Steve Finch and for a time, thinks I am him. (I know of no one with this name in reality.) Over time, I try to speak more “correctly”, though the caller still thinks I may be the other person. Oddly enough, I am supposedly the actor Bruce Willis. At least, I seem to think I am to some degree in my dream (without any seeming pretense). I explain that I have a “voice modulator” - so this is why I sound as I do. I tell him that I have forgotten how to turn it off. We arrange some sort of meeting with a “guard” of some kind. Supposedly, this guard is a representative and “protector” of a certain type of dream environment in another location of the supraconscious as well as being some kind of judge of dream workers. Oddly though, I do not relate it to the fact that I may be dreaming at the time so I never become lucid. I am to meet her in another location, which is apparently like some sort of portal to other types of dream states. Even though I will be instantly killed if I do not meet with her approval, I do not seem to be worried by my state of mind relating to the unexplained and dreaming itself due to my continuous and validated experiences with remote-viewing and precognition since earliest memory. There is soon another person who explains this to me; an older unknown female on my left. We walk to an area near a small wooden fence where the “guard” is to judge me. One section of the fence is broken, but that does not seem ominous in any way. As this unknown female approaches, I maintain a very precise and clear open and honest perspective, wanting to express all of myself with full sincerity to “automatically” avoid my potential destruction (in short, by just “being me”). She towers over me - over twice my height (not as a giant, but as I am now seemingly of a child’s perception with an amazingly clear memory and orientation of when I was that size). She seems almost like a bag lady at this point. (She also reminds me somewhat in afterthought of the crossing guard from when I lived on Rose Street at age five.) She soon approves of me, allowing me to live and to continue dreaming, this being because of my lifelong connection to the unexplained and my sincere interest in the mysteries and meanings of dreams, it seems. Before she leaves, I ask her about how precognition works. I ask if it is related to “threads”, like individual threads of a spider web, from both the potential future, and the “threads” of prior thought and memory simultaneously aligning in the present (in the sense of a fractal equation balancing out) - in other words, the human mind as a “spider” picking up the subtle “vibrations” in distant parts of the “spiderweb” or the event horizon of the theoretical future. I probably do not clearly explain myself as she shakes her head “no” in a very subtle way (but does not at all seem displeased) before walking off as my dream slowly loses cohesion. It may be that she did this to express that she did not have the time to answer any of my questions regardless of what they were.
Updated 09-19-2015 at 08:54 AM by 1390
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