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Morning of June 22, 2016. Wednesday.



In the first part of my dream, my family and I as we are now are seemingly living back on Stadcor Street in Brisbane. However, it seems (or eventually becomes) more like a public venue. Our house is also a little bigger and fancier. I find myself playing an electronic keyboard in our kitchen. I am enjoying the sounds for a few minutes. My music sounds mostly like a reed organ with sustained one-note tones around the 440 Hz range.

Eventually, I notice that I am likely annoying a group of people who are performing in a small orchestra in our living room as well as distracting their small audience. I did not even realize that there were other people in our house (other than the members of my family). There are at least six members of the orchestra. I can clearly hear the beautiful music though it does not sound familiar or recognizable as a known work. My keyboard in fact, is almost as loud as the orchestra at first. Even though these people are technically trespassing (though I do not focus on that fact) I decide to stop playing. I remain passive and receptive and eventually go to the living room and the scene shifts.

Now I am sitting on a couch in an unfamiliar setting that seems only partly rendered. On my left though, there is ambiguity in whether I am outdoors or indoors (though the implication seems logically indoors). An unknown male of about sixty is on my right. He seems to be talking about the history of a particular musician though I am not sure who he means. In fact, he may not even be addressing me as he seems to be speaking to an invisible audience presumed to be facing our location. I have an old softcover music book with yellowed pages and scroll and seashell patterns on the cover (possibly from the 1800s) and this book may be relevant to his oration but he seems a bit distracted and perhaps he is even an eccentric homeless person. There seems to be something “off” about him. He seems angry about the musician of his speech not having an accurate representation in published works. That is, the books published on his life contain mostly erroneous details. However, it may also be that he is completely wrong about what he is saying in his speech.

The scene changes again and I seem mostly uninvolved as I watch Burl Ives blowing on a harmonica in short intervals. The members of the orchestra at the beginning of my dream are chasing him down a hallway. Every now and then he stops and cheerfully and defiantly blows into the harmonica. The orchestra members wave their fists and continue to chase him down the long hallway and around corners but he continues to elude them, mostly remaining about three feet ahead of them at all times. Eventually, they catch on fire but still continue to pursue him, not seeming to notice or care that they are on fire. I watch the flames leaping mostly from their upper backs and shoulders.

Now I am watching Zsuzsanna sitting on a park bench. She is looking at a small neat oblong garden bed which has smooth white stones around the shrubs and flowers. It is parallel to the bench and about eight feet away. The head and shoulders of a young male pops up from the ground, but it vibrates and quivers and seems to be a movie prop as it is pale, almost colorless, and clay-like. Its purpose seems to be to fully emerge from the ground but it keeps going down again to about neck level. Another (unknown) person to her right seems to be laughing intensely at the scene and I start to feel a strange cheerfulness as well. It seems to be part of a movie being filmed but they cannot get the prop to operate correctly.

---

Burl Ives has a special symbolic significance for me. He played the skeptic and eventual victim as a result of his own skepticism in “The Bermuda Depths”, which was a movie that signified my path to my “mystery girl” as being a real character (rather than just a dream character as I had originally thought when growing up). Water and fire have always appeared in dreams he has been in. Fire usually relates to dawning conscious awareness and the nature of sunrise (as relevant to day to day reality).

The first part of my dream relating to the orchestra seems to be relevant to a time (and as a reminder) for both lucidity and non-lucidity. Although I indulge in apex lucidity on a night to night basis (the type of dream I rarely post), I also find joy and great interest in non-lucid dreams regardless of their content and my excessive familiarity with many component types. Here, I am making music and then decide that the orchestra (the Source or the natural flow of the unconscious realm) should be heeded and heard.

The last part relates to a prolonged waking transition. My dream goes a bit haywire. One way to look at it is that I am trying to wake up but I am too amused by the surreal imagery and cannot quite “emerge” from the unconscious realm even though I have been downgraded to a “movie prop” (a movie being analogous to the dream state).

Dad

I was in my basement. There were other people with me. We were looking through some stuff of my dad's. One guy was asking how a harmonica worked. (My dad taught harmonica IWL.) I started explaining the button on the Chromatic and the half tones. I compared it to a piano. The piano was cut in half like an organ with two levels. I tried to play a scale but it didn't sound right.

There was one older man who started explaining the harmonica a little bit. He picked up one of my dad's old chromatics and started playing it. His profile view looked just like my dad. I said so, and almost started crying. I said, "I want him here now!" When everyone was gone I did start crying and I said it again.

M.J.

I was with MJ. I was on a skateboard, lying down, and he was on my back. We were going to go somewhere. I ended up leaving him somewhere, but we were supposed to be together.

I was skating back to look for him and was nervous about the hill. My trucks were always loose IWL and I didn't want to get the speed wobbles. I could see cracks in the sidewalk.

I passed someone who asked if I was whistling, and I said that I was. She commented that she liked boobie gluers. (That was people who stared at boobies.)

I skated, turned a corner, and saw a large, black duely, which caused me to turn sharply, and my skateboard went off a little bank almost going into a creek. I reached down to get it. I could barely reach the back of the skateboard with my index and middle finger.

As I picked up the skateboard, it slipped out of my fingers. I REALLY didn't want it to go into the creek because it would have been very difficult to fish it out. I considered how it would create a memory for me if it did go into the creek. That's how I used to think when I did ride a skateboard.

My skateboard almost went into the creek after slipping out of my fingers, but I was spared. I could barely reach it now, but I stretched and got it between my two fingers again. I barely brought it up.

Then I saw my friend had a white station-waggon, but he wanted to save gas money, which is why he was riding on my back on the skateboard.

Type: DILD.
Lucidity: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
Vividness: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

Notes:
This dream was extremely clear, and I completed the basic July ToTM very early, which is awesome. I didn't get to do much regarding the MDP, because I wasn't thinking clearly about how to change the scenery for it.

It was early in the morning. I was outside, and observed that the sky was slightly darker blue, and I could see yellow and orange tones scattered throughout it, not uniformly gradating from the horizon like the colors would do in real life. For the most part, it wasn't too realistic and looked more like a digital painting. Myself, I was standing on a rather unimportant, low-rise hill (about three feet above ground level); it was exactly like one you'd find along the side of a highway. This hill went along the side of, and curved down toward a fairly small parking lot that was only twenty or so spaces wide, and three or four rows deep. Past this long and rather skinny parking lot was the entrance to an amusement park.

This entrance had a tan-colored stucco exterior, and was very simple in appearance: merely a large, light gray rectangular slab that was sat upon four square pillars, which were made of tan stucco. Between each pillar was a turnstile. Extending from either side of the entrance was a brick wall, probably only six or seven feet tall, with big, neat square holes filled with clear glass, almost like windows. On the other side, you could see rides. I can't remember what kinds I saw when I walked over to the entrance. I walked in between the second and third pillar, not stopping at the kiosk to my right to purchase a ticket. Instead, I kept walking until I was only four or five feet from the brick wall.

I looked down at the ground to see a small square hole. The hole went right down into the ground, arcing slightly forward, until it opened up to the ground on the other side. It was strange, because if you were to look down the hole (which was only twelve or thirteen feet, by one foot, by one foot - very tight to get through!) and looked at the gravelly ground, it was lit rather brightly, as if the other side of the fence dropped off to a small cliff, and the ground I was standing on was actually hanging above another area underneath. The hole was lined by thin metal sheets that somewhat smoothed out the insides of it; it almost looked like the inside of an air duct.

This was the entrance to the park. I knelt down and put my two legs in it; I then used my arms to try and push myself downwards, in a pretty poor attempt to get through. I got a few feet into it, but then stopped at my hips because the thing was just too tight to get my butt through. "This is so freaking stupid," I muttered, and pulled myself out with a bit of effort.

As I turned around, [B]I became lucid and did a nose-plug RC to confirm the dream state. I could breathe; this time, I noticed the air was relatively cool instead of neutral like it usually is. But it wasn't cold outside at all; I couldn't even feel the temperature! Immediately after finishing the reality check, I remembered to do the July Task of the Month. As I walked through the parking lot and back towards the hill, I resolved to summon a harmonica. I used basic dream control tactics and "knew" that I was wearing a hoodie (taking objects out of pant pockets often don't seem to work for me), and I also imagined the feeling of pushing my hand into the right pocket, and the reluctant stretch of the fabric. I expected a harmonica to be there.

I could feel the texture of the shirt pocket as I took out a very plain, all-metal harmonica. It was a fairly flat, rectangular piece of steel with slightly rounded corners and a good number of holes on the side, something like 12 or 14 circular ones. The surface was pretty scratched-up, like how the steel back of an older ipod has those light, shallow scratches. I put it up to my mouth and breathed lightly into it, listening to the sound I generated. The tune was simply four notes blended together nicely. Low tone, medium tone, low, low, and then high. It didn't quite have the harsh sound of a harmonica, but the sound was softer and almost echoed.

"Yeah!" I said excitedly, trying to keep myself from getting too excited. Then, I stopped at the foot of the hill and decided to try and continue the MDP, but then thought better of it. I was nowhere near the location I needed, and my dream-self didn't remember that I could just open a door or fly to the location I needed to be in. I decided to leave that for another dream.

I 'woke up' into a false awakening.

I was in someones front yard, but it was across the street from my neighbors in waking life. I was with my wife or my cousin N

I said, "Let's fly," and I took off. I saw the stars. I got heavy above the trees. I was not lucid.

--

I lost some kind of contest. I was walking down hill at night towards a restaurant or something.

I made it in went to a room to get dressed. I put on the clothes and wig that Americans wore in Washington's time. I stood very proud so as to not be bothered that I lost the contest.

--

I was outside and saw a mated pair of Bald Eagles. I couldn't believe it. They circled above. Then I noticed they were chasing hawks out of their territory.

I grabbed a professional video camera. I thought it was mine. As I started taking video of the eagles, I started playing the harmonica. That was weird; it was attached to the camera. It only played one note.

I took more video and played the harmonica that was up to my mouth again.

I looked at the camera and noticed it was a strange dream version of my brother's old XL-1. It was partly blue and had wires making on empty frame underneath the body of the camera. I tried to see the harmonica, but it wasn't very obvious.

In waking life, my father taught harmonica. He also went to a Deepak Chopra seminar where he was told that the eagle is his animal spirit or something.

Dream skip: I'm in a building and receiving sun glasses. I'm some black market distributor. I am happy because this means money, but I realize I'm in business with thugs. This is dangerous business.

I start seeing guys that get bigger and tougher up the chain of command. Each one is stronger than the next.

Finally I see the big boss. He's a black guy. One of the white guys tries to make me look good. He climbs up onto a platform, I get ready, and as he jumps me, I grab his jacket and throw him to the floor. This is designed to show that I can handle myself.

I start hitting, though pulling my punches. Again, I am just showing what I could do, though I was slow and very unconvincing.

I end up in a car with two black girls. I'm stroking the hair of one of them and I wonder if the other one accepts me.

--

My nephew was depicted as a cartoon character. He was outside in the snow. His mother called him Snow Cheese.

Then his mother started drawing cartoons of him. She was coming up with the text effortlessly. They were funny, but I never knew what they said.