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As far as I could tell, the dream began as I was starring at a porch light (or lantern) mounted behind my PC monitor on the wall. Nothing is there in real life. I was noticing how glowy and warm it looked. I remember the light fall off was very sharp. Meaning, only a few inches away from the light it was still very dark.

As I was looking, I stood up from my chair and noticed there were a dozen or so plump crickets and beetles hanging out around the base of the lamp. Unlike real life, I didn't have a horrified reaction. Curiously, I instantly thought of a plan to remedy the situation:

1. Get a garbage can.
2. Place it under the lamp area.
3. Bang the wall to knock off, and collect all the insects at once.

I turned on my bathroom light without breaking eye contact with the lamp. The bathroom light cast a bit more light onto the dark wall, and the bugs started to stir. -Then I woke up.

Note: This dream occurred the night after I read, and posted Dream 051 which is similar. I rarely dream about insects.

August 27, 2008:
One of my rare positive dreams.

I was sleeping in my mother's room on her bed for this one, which isn't usual for me but her bed is softer and my back hurt a lot.

As I was beginning to fall asleep I started to dream that shadowy grey figures were shuffling around the bed, they were wearing grey cloaks and had veils over their faces. I was sort of scared but then another figure appeared who was a humanoid with golden hair, and announced himself as a "golden" something, at which point a bubble of light began to expand from our bodies to fill the room. The shadowy figures couldn't withstand this and disintegrated. The light filled all of the corners of the room and then expanded beyond it and my new friend and I flew around inside of a bubble of light. He demonstrated that he could expand or contract the bubble, and then the dream faded into the blackness that's usually deep sleep for me.

Morning of June 2, 1998. Tuesday.

Reading time: 54 sec. Readability score: 57.



I deliberately step into an interesting street scene, but during a sequence of more quickly changing settings when the human forms have not stabilized. (Dream characters usually transform at the rate of about once per second in the first dreaming stage of the sleep cycle, until I allow them to stabilize, though they also sometimes melt into and out of each other during these stages.)

A group of East Indian men (most from about thirty to forty years of age) approaches, some in traditional clothes, some in suits. They are carrying what I think is a casket. Moving closer, hovering in an incorporeal form while maintaining vestibular system correlation, I see the lid is now off. The “casket” contains long yellow candles (emerging consciousness color) aligned in the box lengthwise end to end. One of them alights, and I hear a male ahead of the group say, “Oh, look at that,” more in wonder and respect than surprise or alarm, and I wake softly, feeling alert and well. There is an essence of magic, though not “real” magic, only the knowledge of the dream state and how to mediate and modulate it.

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The “lighting a candle” process is a thread (both in infra-awareness and lucidity as here) that I have used since early childhood to more clearly define my conscious self’s existence, especially with incidental sleep apnea, though which is quite rare and is not a factor in this case.

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Morning of November 3, 1974. Sunday.

Dream #: 2,876-07. Reading time: 52 sec.



In my dream, Susan R is sitting outside on a brick fence in Arcadia late at night, and I am standing, facing her. She tells me that something will eventually be happening to take me on a different path, away from her (implying destiny, with a sense of finality and certainty).

On cue, a Catherine wheel detaches, or someone throws it from somewhere unknown in the distance (perhaps three or four blocks away), and it moves high up into the sky. I think of shooting stars (even though the feature is first going upward before arcing downward). I am unsure what could have propelled it like this. Susan tells me that I will hear my name in a song relative to this event. My “dream girl” (Zsuzsanna before we met) connects to my destiny.

Though there is the essence of eeriness, it is not ominous. I watch the small and distant object on an arced curve, soon resembling a glowing pinwheel. (The scenario seems partly influenced by reel three of a “Casper the Friendly Ghost” View-Master pack, titled “The Falling Star,” where an anthropomorphic five-pointed star befriends Casper.)

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The song “Catherine Wheels” (by Crowded House, 1993) uses my first name (Claude). Zsuzsanna and Paul Hester shared a brief correspondence, and he hugged her once in waking life.

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