Morning of July 28, 2020. Tuesday. Dream #: 19,580-02. Reading time (optimized): 2 min 30 sec. I am dreaming in an instinctual mode that transitions to moderate liminal modifications that define my emergence from illusory dream perception to the threshold of wakefulness and precursory physicality. My waking-life identity is irrelevant and absent throughout this process. I am sitting on the couch in the living room of the Loomis Street house (unseen in waking life since February 1994). I have no recall of its history as my dream starts with a fanciful theme, with morphing content. The narrative initiates emerging physical awareness by first acknowledging and defining the immobility of my physical body while sleeping (a fundamental dreaming process). My dream’s narrative begins with the creation of miniature walls (about a foot in height) with the appearance of the front of a barn (the quantization of the virtual division between dream space and waking space), featuring a hayloft door and barn doors. An unfamiliar male character of about twenty years old had been creating them under the management of British actor Mark Sheppard (this dream’s sleep-wake manager) who remains a passive witness, as my dream self is initiating the waking transition in this instance. I instinctually continue the process by mentally creating a new version of the little wall. Its appearance differs from the original design only in that it features four miniaturized drawer spaces (without drawers), of equal size, beneath two adjacent doorways (where the barn doors had been). They are in two columns of two, and the feature matches the width of the barn’s entrance. A narrow column evenly divides the two doorways, directly above the division of the two drawer space tiers. (This feature instinctually acknowledges the compartmentalization of neural activity while in REM sleep, though with the anticipation of achieving consciousness.) Mark looks on as I feel cheerful about this more elaborate design. The modulatory process (co-occurrent with progressing towards wakefulness) continues with a change in the feature. The area where the drawer spaces were is magnified and isolated while the rest of my dream’s environment becomes undefined. I see two miniaturized gray boom gates that mirror each other, facing the center. This feature instinctually anticipates the exit point of the dream state. As a result, somatosensory dynamics initiate. I push down on the tip of the little boom gate on the right, and it springs back up (sleep atonia to myoclonus). My instinctual awareness of my immobility while sleeping (sleep atonia) integrates into the next change in the feature. Mark remains, but I do not look at him. The little boom gates transform as the area is now over twice the size as previously. They are now tonearms that face each other (similar to those of a 1950s record player). I become aware that there is motorized clockwork higher within this feature, though I wonder if the tonearm on the left is redundant or if it might interfere with the function of this device. I move the right tonearm in the manner of how I would use it when placing it on a record. The left tonearm only slightly moves on its own as I do this. Mark says he does not think there will be any problems with the new design. Even though this dream utilizes the usual processes, I found this particular sequence fascinating in its uniqueness and inventiveness. Factors not explained in the main entry: Hayloft door (quantized in the miniature wall): Instinctual anticipation of the vestibular system ambiguity as a result of being in REM sleep. A recent variation of this occurred in “Conspiratorial Murals (‘Tickle Me’ Influence),” where my dream self even made a vocal acknowledgment of the process. Tonearms: Correlation with liminally becoming aware of the physicality and potential mobility of my arms during the waking transition (sleep atonia to myoclonus).
Morning of February 14, 2016. Sunday. I climb a ladder through a trapdoor above me and into a small dimly-lit room with a number of gears that are presently not moving. I have a hammer (though I do not recall having climbed the ladder with it). The gears seem possibly jammed as well as rusty. Hammering them seems to not only remove some of the rust, but rather than breaking the gears, it seems to somehow add missing pieces (or teeth) back onto them. The gears begin to move, more golden in appearance, the light in the room grows brighter, and I soon wake in mid-swing. This is about as obvious as waking symbolism can get (though subliminally self-initiated rather than with biological RAS activation). A ladder symbolizes rising in consciousness (waking). Using the hammer signifies becoming more aware of the nature of the real physical body (and kinetic energy metaphorically equating to neural energy - as something shaking or vibrating also symbolizes the waking state precursor), and of course gears turning relates to waking and more viably thinking. A room growing brighter also relates to dawning consciousness. Yellow and gold are emergent consciousness indicators (570–590 nm) as in being analogous to sunrise, though orange and red, in that order, increase waking priory.
Morning of March 25, 2015. Wednesday. My family and I are living at our present address on W street though it is somewhat different. The area east of us is more like a rural area with less buildings and includes at least one large empty lot. There is a wall clock featured that either is - or is designed to look like - an antique wall clock. The top section is octagonal (same shape as a stop sign - may be an association here with “stopping time” in a “wishful thinking” sort of way) and the bottom section primarily vertically rectangular. The clock is the main focus of my dream though we also have a garden where the shed is in reality, covering about half of the backyard on the far side. I notice that there are very tall healthy plants, not sure of the variety, that are taller than a person. I briefly contemplate whether or not other people will be annoyed by this in their not being able to casually “spy” on us. There is also a scene where a very old lady (unknown and unfamiliar) with a seeming cheerful disposition is smoking a cigarette in the (fictional) empty lot east of our house. I notice another cigarette (long, but with no filter) in a shallow narrow ditch (running east and west) in the ground and actually smoke it (even though there is no act of lighting it other than with my in-dream thoughts though I am not lucid). Although I am not a smoker in real life and rarely smoke in my dreams, the usual occurs. Small pieces of tobacco annoyingly fill my mouth from the tip each time I inhale from it. At one point, I exhale, and an amount of smoke far more than would be possible flows from my mouth as I sit on the ground. The old lady seems to be looking for the rest of her cigarettes which she had apparently dropped but continues walking east. There is also at least one unknown older male (about forty) standing around at the time on the north side of the ditch. (There is a very subtle geometrical redundancy as dreams tend to have at times. The cigarette lying longways in the small ditch is similar to the elongated drill-bit-like cog fitting in the semi-circular recess of the clock’s door in the next scene.) The scene with the clock is fairly long and complex. The only character other than my wife and children at this point is a black-haired young female “servant” (though implied to be divine or angelic, though without the typical mirror-like eyes in this case). She is the one that starts the idea of the work on the clock involving the refurbishing of three different gears. Other than that, the clock seems mostly hollow of working parts but is still implied to work well again when repaired. Her intent to “restore” me (via the clock) seems devotional and selfless (though my wife unknowingly triggered a Blue Pearl event - brighter than usual - when I was in a health-affirming state the other night, just with her mental state at the time from a different room - thus the girl may also represent a young version of my wife - also yet again supplying evidence that the Blue Pearl is related to either direct communication between real soul mates or an entity or mechanism that acts on their behalf). Paying close attention, I note that one gear, a slightly elongated cog that almost reminds me of a piece of a drill bit, is quite small and goes into the top edge of the clock’s “door” into a long semi-circular recess closest to the hinged side, though still has something to do with the timing mechanism rather than just the door uniformity and latching. Another cog is fairly large, about one-sixth the size of the clock and goes in the lower left side of the back of the clock’s hollow area. It has the typical inward-pointing rounded triangular hollows of radial symmetry, I believe five of them (likely representing the five fingers). The last cog is about half the size of the previous and goes between the door and the rest of the clock somehow, near the center of the back of the clock’s face. Apparently this work is metaphorical of restoring a certain level of well-being, which did have an effect on my real body after waking in a positive sense. This dream was partially a result of generic health-affirming work. Although it is possible to script, write, and incubate a dream exactly as wanted (at any level of in-dream awareness) in every detail with my own lifelong methods, I often use very general terms (such as “thank you for restoring me to maximum well-being” or “thank you for returning me to my healthiest state” and thousands of others) and no plot-based constructs in this case. It is also important to understand the continuity of these phrases (most people get them wrong or use incorrectly worded ones - as most commercial products have incorrect methods implemented which is something I have noted for nearly thirty years - though in some cases a placebo-based event may result with certain people). Supplements of the phrases here should be “thank you for my restoration to maximum well-being” and “thank you for my return to my healthiest state”. This is because other levels of consciousness process word forms in a different manner than the wakeful conscious mind, especially gerunds; for example, as mentioned in another entry, “healing” can have many meanings, including an “infinite now” of NOT ever healing (since ”-ing" implies ongoing and never actually completing). The smoking scene in my dream is likely related to a product I was aware of years ago and often joked about. It was a cassette which I read about, supposedly designed to help people quit smoking. The approach used in affirmation was completely wrong and ludicrous. It was typical of invalid dream-work-based or self-hypnosis-based commercial products of the time where negative terms were used and the focus on what was NOT wanted was implemented (for example, saying “I will quit smoking” is pointless at several levels).
Updated 12-10-2015 at 08:52 AM by 1390
Morning of December 20, 2012. Thursday. I am with my wife Zsuzsanna at our present address, which is rendered as larger. There are railroad tracks at the side of our house where the public footpath would otherwise be. In the last scene of my dream however, the railroad tracks are no longer there. During this time, there appear to be various rusty gears along the tracks (by passing trains that sometimes lost their parts, though no train is ever present). At one point, I consider that they may be valuable, but this is not a consistent thought. (I am not sure of how I would go about selling them.) There are also a couple street rod exhaust pipes which I do not consider are unrelated to a train and instead seem to think they are part of a locomotive. At some points, it seems as if there may be railroad pocket watch gears mixed in with the pieces of a train. If I find all of them, I may have enough to make a watch or perhaps sell as useful parts (to the right people). Over time, it seems that the railroad tracks had somehow disintegrated and there are patches of grass that are a lighter color and straw-like. There are also far less gears and debris. One gear looks illogically oversized. Years ago, my brother-in-law Bob gave me an heirloom from his family, as he did not have a son to give it to. It was a railroad pocket watch which was likely worth quite a bit as an antique (though I never had it appraised). I had left it in my King Street apartment atop a chest of drawers, and it somehow vanished even though my door had been locked and nothing else was ever taken. I never saw it again and I never informed Bob. It is possible that a previous tenant got in. In general, this has been a common recurring dream situation since childhood, though primarily rendering Cubitis as the setting. Usually, it is related to passing trains leaving discarded books or other “treasures” (otherwise on their way to a landfill), typically headed north. In some versions, there were virtually endless sets of railroad tracks easterly of the Cubitis backyard, with the chance to explore various items scattered over the areas but usually limited to the area around my Cubitis home’s backyard and beyond to the east, and not farther to the north or south.
Vividness: 8 Recall:5 Overall: 6 I am at a theme park, my head teacher is directing everyone around, his voice randomly squeaks but I don't seem to find this strange and just chuckle along to it. I think I am viewing the crowd from above, but I'm talking to Andy about gears of war 3, he is bragging to me that he is number 1 in Europe, in these strange game types. I am really impressed, we decide to go on some water ride. *Fragment Head teacher is describing to me how he has converted this old building into a haunted house ride, something about the windows being the same pops up in the conversation.
6/23/2011 The dream is first person, I'm myself and am accompanied by a sciencey looking man, a woman, and her child. We go downwards into a vault type area and see the most horrible things in front of us. As we walk through this darkened metallic area we see to our sides great machines that work away all day under a building... They're grinding people. The gore is massive, endless and disgusting. Great gears and spiked spindles tear apart the meat and produce rain of red into a giant consuming pit under each. There is little or no dialogue between us as we reach a fork. To the right is light from a hole in the ceiling and to the other is an elevator; and by my suggestion we open the elevator. Inside there are dozens of floors on the panel outside the elevator but only three appeal to me, S1, S2, and S3. I press the button for S3, and when the doors open the entire elevator is covered in the gore we saw earlier, and it appears darker than our current area. I quickly close it and decide that S1 is probably nicer. As I guessed, the doors opened and it looked totally normal, metallic and safe. I usher in the child and woman and send them off. Next up I open S2, which is considerably less frightening than S3, although still fairly disgusting. I reopened S3, and sent in the man, who was now a Marine looking guy with a machine gun. I closed him in and he wasnt very happy about it when he was sent off. Now, I have a gun and head into S2 sending myself down. When the gears grind to the bottom and I reach my destination the hallway is extremely narrow and ends about two steps after i enter. Then, it begins to open and as it does the insides of the walls im expected to walk through are covered in the grinding saw blades that did wonders on making mince out of the bodies and the entire time I walked through the ever opening passage I felt like I was going to die at any moment. Then, in a truly theatrical manner some kind of creature pulls itself out of a pit of gears and says something canon to what you would expect for entering its lair. I remember saying something to myself like, this wont be scary I've seen it before and as I thought it was a recycled sprite from some game or other and the dream suddenly turned third person. A few gunshots later and I was able to kill it, then it zooms out and im in my bedroom playing this "game" I had imagined. After a short conversation with my brother who walked in about the game a score screen came up... Heh, Resident Evil was always fun wasnt it? Thats what we called it.
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