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I only remember a little.
I was standing on a level of this stone building from ancient times. It resembled the balcony surrounding my English block at school. Anyway, someone was with me and we were talking about the small lion behind a little fence next to us on the balcony.

When we looked down it looked like the balcony outside my front door. There was a little turtle walking on the mat, and two or three spider-looking insects.

MEMORY GAP

We were standing up in the middle of the balcony and some roman soldiers were there from 300 the movie. Although they were out of shape lol.
One of them got up, took a spear and threatened to stab everyone. The whole time there were people far down below us.
I wake up.

The dream begins in outer space, some time in the future, where two opposing factions are vying for control of an area of space somewhere in a remote galaxy. The beginning character of this dream is a "bad" guy renegade of the enemy group. He appears as my dream character Walter and he is a tall man with firery red hair and goatee. His ship is attempting a covert mission to penetrate a line of defence set up by the "good" guys.

The mission fails and Walter and his small crew of renegades are captured. Imprisioned aboard the "good" guys ship and because they are renegades and not officially listed as members of a military, Walter and his crew are subjected to experiemental science testing to achieve alternative physical forms during combat.

The experiments require chocolate bars to activate and at first there are only personality changes in the renegades, but after months of experimentation, physical slave labor (to build up muscle), and mind altering drugs and reprocessing (brainwashing) Walter beings randomly transforming into a white tiger in his prisoner cell at night. Soon his right hand man begins transforming into a grey wolf and other members of Walter's crew assume other animal forms.

The leader of the "good" guys has been following orders this whole time though he has secretly morally opposed the way he has been ordered to treat his prisoners (I think his name was Greg or something). When Walter and his crew begin transforming into animals, Greg is ordered to lead use the experimental prisoners to a nearby abandoned planet to decontaminate it of harmful chemicals and remove pockets of pirates and smugglers who inhabit some of the abandoned cities.

After the planet has been liberated and cleansed, Greg is ordered by his military leaders to capture more enemies and subject them to the experiemental transformation process as well. Greg protests and refuses and as punishment for defying orders Greg and his crew are subjected to the same experiments that Walter's crew endured. When the process is complete Greg begins transforming into an African lion and some of his crew also assume the forms of other sahara creatures.

With their new transforming abilities, superiour strength and skills, Greg defects to Walter's side and the two commanders then lead their crews to rebel against the oppressive military factions vying for control of this area of space. I cannot remember the end of this dream.

I am at a public fair of some kind. I don't know the place but there is a large circular Romanesque building in the center and rides and consession stands surrounding it. The circular building in the center is multistoried and I am on an elevator going down to the ground floor. There I meet someone I knew in public school, J.P, though he looks older. He is lost and trying to find his way somewhere. I help him orient himself and he goes on his way.

I am there for army training and see the group that I am supposed to be in and start following. The group is led by Lieutenant-General Roméo Dallaire and he is weaving us through thrater seat aisles and pillers around the building and various rides and events outside. After we have completed a circuit we start again but this time jogging. The rest of the group seems fine but one other girl and myself soon start to tire and have difficultly keeping up.

After the second circuit is completed Lieutenant-General Dallaire starts the group running. Halfway through the circuit I am too tired to run anymore and fall behind, losing sight of the group. I am outside of the circular building and near a large inflatable male lion that is coloured black. It is laying down but it's mouth open as if amidst a might roar. I feel disheartened already because of failing to keep up with the group and falling behind but also feel equally small and pathetic next to this mighty lion. I sit down on a folded metal seat nearby and mope.

Sometime after I have caught my breath the Lieutenant-General and the group rounds and corner and approaches me. I stand up and apologize profusely to Dallaire but he only responds by asking if I am ready to go. I do not understand and he says that he "never leaves a man behind." I protest and say that I am not good enough but he responds that I won't know if I give up trying. I am feeling a bit refreshed after my rest and agree to try again. The group starts off again at a jog and as I follow I look over my shoulder at the inflatable lion and see that it has changed colour to a bright and luminous golden. For some reason this gives me confidence to press on.

The group eventually starts to run again and this time I am able to keep up for the whole circuit. The running comes to an end at a clearing on the tarmac outside of the circular building where a small stage with a red curtain backdrop has been set up. Many civilians have gathered around and in the crowd I can see my father. Lieutenant-General Roméo Dallaire gets up on the stage and starts introducing the runners, giving them little medals and declaring that they have completed the recruitment process and are now officially in the army. Everyone else goes first and I am last.

When it is my turn the Lieutenant-General gives me a metal, says I have completed my training and then adds that I have a special significance in completing this because I persevered in the end and made my father proud. Dallaire notes that I am now in the army at the same age that my father joined the navy and that our proud family militay history will continue. I am confused by all this and though happy to have completed the training I still don't feel that I am good enough to be in the army.

The dream ends there.

Dream starts off with my dad and myself at a giant church which is also a busy tourist destination, though the denomination is not clear. The building is square and seems identical on each side, and it five several stories tall. The outside of the church has bricked pathways that encircle the building and each each side (compass direction) of the building is painted different bright, solid colours. I cannot remember all of them but recall that the south side of the building was painted dark blues and either dark purples or greens. The crowds are made up of many people of different backgrounds, as well as non-humans. There are alien like creature that look like they just stepped out of a science fiction film like Star Wars, while others are antropormorpic animals, dressed in human clothing. No one is bothered by the wide range of non-human creatures, as this is quite normal in this dream world and though I am not bothered by it, I do take note of it because in the dream I have never encountered non-human civilians before.

There is a a small castle or fortress to the north of the church, that is much bigger and made of plain grey bricks. The whole place is set upon a cliff and a tan brick wall keeps people from falling off the edge into a churning ocean. Between the pathways and buildings are elaborate and beautiful gardens filled with many fragrant flowers. It is forbidden by law to touch or damage the flowers and benches are provided all along the cobbled pathways so that people can sit and admire them.

Along the pathways themselves are many sculptures, both abstract and figurative, that seem to have nothing to do with religion, made in a variety of different media. My dad and I are between the north end of the church and the fortress, looking at a brown (bronze?) sculpture. My dad asks me "Do you see him?" and points up. There is a little figure of a burly, bearded man dressed as a lumber jack and carrying a large axe over his shoulder. The rest of the statue itself looks like a crude replica of the Eiffel Tower. My dad is reading a plaque on the side of the statue about what it represents. I leave him to have a quick look around and encircle the church (and thus discover its different coloured sides) before I find my dad on the east side looking at some plastic, light blue and white triangular peices that are slightly curled, that I think are supposed to represent waves of water or something.

I am feeling impatient because I want to leave the crowded pathways and look inside the church, for that is I thought we had come there for. Eventually we do made our way inside, through the south entrance (as that is the only one open, the others are sealed). The inside seems warm and inviting, everything is made of wood and it looks like a simple cottage with a long hall down the middle. To the immediate right there is a small dining room where several (Christian) nuns sit around a dining table in front of empty plates and glasses made of fine porceline. They are dressed casually (wool sweaters, cotton skirts, slippers) and their nun headresses are grey, not black. They at first ignore us and the stready flow of people coming in and out of the entrance. I notice, and point out to my dad, burning embers on the dark brown wooded floor of the dining room, which the nuns have not seen or simply ignore.

We begin to stamp the embers out, as some of them are quite large and could possibly cause a fire, and only then does one elderly nun take notice of what we are doing and joins us in our stamping. When the embers are out she provides no possible explaination of what could have caused it but takes us on a personal tour which ends at a cramped but homely kitchen at the end of the hall. Many of the rooms along the way are sealed with heavy wooden doors and I cannot see inside them, while others are open, though windowless and dark and look mearly like the inside of a chapel with rows of pews and alters filled with candles, some burning and some not. Despite this there are not religious icons or statues anywhere and the only indictation that the building is a church so far is the casually dressed nuns walking the halls.

The elderly nun (who looks like the mother from James Cameron's Titanic) takes us to the second floor which is a special priviledge that the rest of the tourists are not afforded apparently, and it is much different in style the the main floor. Monks in brown cloaks wander the halls silently and avoid making eye contact with anyone and go out of their way to walk around. The walls and floors are made of plain grey bricks and there are many twisting passageways along the hall that go either up or down, yet do not contain stairs and hare been paved smooth and flat.

I ask the nun why this is so and she merely responds that it is to accomadate the many tourists in wheelchairs or those pushing strollers. She also mentions that the basement levels can only be reached by these twisting passages. At the end of one hall there is a large bay window and to the left of that there is a large red curtain from which silent monks enter and leave. A black man with a white turban, dressed in a dark blue robe decorated with silver five pointed stars and crescent moons, stares silently out of the window with a very sad expression on his face. He glances over his shoulder briefly and makes eye contact with me, before quickly looking away and returning his sad gaze out the window. I have a strong desire to speak with him, as I sense he holds much wisdom, but I do not because he seems so sad and unapproachable.

To the right of the bay window, there are two of the twisting passages, one going up and one going down. From the windowless passage going down an eerie green glow eminates. The passage going up has a single wooden frame window with a vase of daisies and seems more welcoming.

As I sit there and contemplate which passage I would like to take, the one going up (consciousness, the easy path) or the one going down (unconsciousness, the harder path) a tour group emerges from the passage going down. It seems to be a group of children lead by a middle aged man but they are all wearing radioactive protective suits that cover there whole bodies and trudge with great weariness as if their trek has been long and arduous. The sight of them needed such protection to explore the lower realm kind of scares me into impulsively running for the passage leading up. I quickly look over my shoulder and notice that dad is gone, as is the man at the window, and the hall is empty of monks, but the nun remains and smiles warmly at me, but she says nothing. Despite her reassuring glance, I scramble up the ascending path with no thoughts or expectations in my mind, like a scared animal being chased by something unseen.

The dream changes. I am suddenly in the castle north of the church, in a grand passageway that while still twisting upwards, is decorated with artworks and elegance befitting of a royal building. It is also much wider, does not slant so steeply and is lighted by large windows bordered by elaborate tapestries. People still wander the halls, but instead of nuns and monks, are woman and men dressed richly in Renaissance fashions of courtiers and aristocrats. A few of them saunter by me and sneer as they do so. I am not dressed as finely as they and instead have on a simple brown dress with a grey undershirt and light grey apron. I have read hair and know immediately that I have transformed into my deam incarnet, Kalima. I look out one of the large windows and can see the square, multicoloured church still surrounded by gardens and sculpures, though the cobblestone pathways are empty of modern-looking tourists and filled with merchants and vendors, peasants and aristocrats, human and non-human alike, bustling around in a budy medieval townscape.

I cannot consciously recall the previous part of the dream now and though I can sense that I do not belong here, and feel out of place, the farmiliarity of everything I am seeing makes me think that I have always been here. I unconsciously grasp at something hidden underneath my collar: a small silk bag containing a polished peice of jade hangs around my neck on a thin strap of leather. I keep it hidden because I feel that if anyone saw it, they would believe that I had stolen it, as it would seem too expensive for a mere peasant as myself to own such a thing. Beyound sentimental and material value, this peice of jade is magical and allows me to see beyond the constraints of the physical world, as well as grant me some minor magical powers. Through the Jade I can see the Truth at all times, and if someone were to discover it and take it away, I fear that I would be rendered powerless and blind.

Touching the Jade, I can feel its power, which pulsates with a warm but sharp electrical current, even through the rough cotton of my shirt and the thick silk bag that contains it. It jars my consciousness and I suddenly remember what I am supposed to be doing, though the sudden awareness is fragmented: Meeting friends. Finding and freeing a captive lion. Saving a King. I cannot compel the peice of Jade which, while still apart of me, is like an entity all unto its own, to show me more and I know that it reveals only what I need to know and it is up to me to figure out the rest.

I decend the winding passageway down to the main floor of the castle and meet a group of people whom I know are my friends. We came here out of curiousity at first, to see the castle, though later for an important task revealed to me through the Jade. My friends, who are all older than me by a few years, know of my power, and trust and protect me with great care. They are all humans except for one, who is a small antropormorphic ant like creature (about two inches tall) who is very wise and acts as our teacher and guide. He usually rides on someone's shoulder, since he is much too small to keep up with us walking on his own, and he greatly fears being crushed to death by being stepped on. All of us are orphans and outcasts and we have no one else in the world save for each other.

We find a lion in a cage and release it before the guards and discover us. We make are way through the lower parts of the castle and it is confusing and maze like. We are captured by some guards and brought before the King. My peice of Jade suddenly sends me a message about the King's life being in danger. I try to tell him so but he doesn't believe me. The lion captors have some how recaptured the lion and now use it as a weapon, making the poor creature attack and kill anyone it comes across, and beating it severely if it does not comply. The captors are just outside of the throne room when a soldier comes and tells the king what is happening. He finally believes me that his life is in danger and I use my magic peice of Jade to create and illusion so that my friends, the King and I can escape. We follow a secret passage revealed by the King behind the throne and it leads to the outside of the castle, but over the ocean and we have to jump into the water.

When I get out of the water I am seperated from my friends in the crowds of people outside the castle and for some reason my peice of Jade transformed me into a lion. I am immediately captured by the cruel lion tamers, who take my peice of Jade without which I cannot revert back. The King meanwhile regroups what soldiers he has left and surrounds and captures the would be assassins. I discover that I am able to revert back to human form under my own power and so not need the Jade. My friends and I are rewarded and we are no longer poor peasants. My friends take up residence in the castle, but I feel out of place because I vaguely remember my dad looking at the art outside of the castle and I leave to "find my way back home."


The dream ends there.

Morning of July 6, 1975. Sunday.



In my dream, I am with my best friend Toby on some sort of excursion of which I am not sure of the nature of. I believe the word play, “Safari, so good” (so far, so good) is suggested by Toby. We actually seem to be in Africa (or a reconstruction of certain features of one area) at one point, but I do not have a clear memory of how we got there, although the idea of a school bus having taken us there comes into mind very briefly, which suggests that we got left behind on some sort of field trip, perhaps to Busch Gardens at Tampa Bay. Somehow, as we walk around with no particular implied destination, we end up going into another world through an unseen or unrecognized portal.

After a time, we end up being chased by several mythological creatures, including a minotaur and a centaur. We are not caught or directly threatened at any point, but the landscape and the creatures become more unusual over time.

Eventually, without realizing it, after being chased by surreal mythological beasts on several different occasions, we seem to be back in our own world in the same area from where we started, just prior to entering the other world.

Nearby, a lion watches us from tall grasses and soon roars with the idea he may start to chase us. Even though we start running to escape from the potentially threatening situation, Toby starts laughing, saying rather loudly and somewhat happily under the circumstances, “A good ol’ Earth lion!” which means he is glad to be out of the other world, though he lags behind me. There is no fear at this point; but almost a strange sense of relief and appreciated familiarity of the potential to return home.

This is a fairly straightforward dream-as-a-dream event (as many are, even many of which people try to “interpret”, which in the first place, is something only the dreamer can do, as the dreamer is the only one with the relevant memory of the previous experiences and associations that build the dream in the first place). The lion in the last segment is my emergent consciousness rendered as the waking transition’s symbol of coalescence. This is because a lion in the dream state represents the ability to consume the dream self, since that is always the ultimate fate of the dream self (to coalesce into whole consciousness) even after being in the “alternate world of mythology” (the dream state itself). The implied swallowing is not seen in this dream (and in fact, is not even needed to be rendered since the transition has already developed). Waking transitions of this type are often achieved without any need for disturbing imagery (and again, it was even amusing in this case, which happily colored my mood for the day).

Morning of April 13, 1975. Sunday. [Dual narrative format utilized Saturday, 29 July 2017.]



[Eighth grade will finish in about two months. I contemplate the challenge of leaving my middle school, while incorporeal, within the realm of instinctual dreaming as my dream comes into focus. My conscious self is unaware that I am dreaming but many viable threads of my conscious self identity are shared within the ephemeral mind of my dream self.]

I am on a school bus with a lot of my schoolmates. I am vaguely wondering whether it is Sunday or not as it does not seem reasonable for me to be on a school bus if it is. The school bus comes to a stop in a field northwest of my school. I remember that we had been going north, so I assume I might be going home at the end of the day even though it does not seem to be afternoon yet. I think we are probably still in Arcadia. I notice high grass in some areas to my left and what looks like the outer perimeter of a possibly relinquished orange grove. I do not know exactly where we are.

[The preconscious as my bus driver is an unfamiliar male. Instead of continuing with the neural energies of generic dream exit symbolism and returning the essence of my dream self to my physical body in my bed, he decides to leave my dream. I am not sure why he has abandoned the vehicle.]

For several minutes, none of my schoolmates get up or speak about why we are here. I notice that Ray has his transistor radio on but at not that loud of a volume. He seems somewhat cheerful but some of my schoolmates seem impatient over the status of our situation. Susan is present and she regards me curiously. I am trying to recall if we are together or not. I am unsure about remaining here. I contemplate walking home, but consider that it may be too far.

[Coalescence waking symbolism is precursory, and soon, in more ways than one. The school bus contains these potential personas from the core of my unconscious, yet to coalesce on the bus as a more sustained waking transition is not to complete my journey. Where is the preconscious?]

It seems that the reason our school bus driver abandoned his duty was because of a lion in a cage right behind his seat. The lion’s paws can almost reach the back of the driver’s seat, but it is not certain what could happen. I do not question why a lion would be kept in a cage on a school bus, especially right behind the driver.

[Susan looks at me. She seems sad somehow. The preconscious will not return me to my world other than by swallowing me in his lion form, back into whole consciousness, so it seems up to my dream self to take some sort of control to perhaps avoid this event or even the thought of it].

I bravely walk up to the driver’s seat. My schoolmates smile, but I am not sure if they think I am being foolish or are glad we are going to be going home. I sit down, trying not to move for a few minutes, pretending that there is not a lion behind me. Is there really a cage? What if the cage is not strong enough? What will high school be like? Where will Susan be now that I deliberately try to avoid her?

[My dream self is vaguely puzzled. I consider why I should take over the role of the preconscious. Is this what I must do?]

I do not know how to drive a school bus, but that does not matter. Mere thinking on my part initiates the restarting of my journey…

[…slowly back to my physical body.]

The lion growls softly behind me. If I am calm…

[…I will not experience coalescence into whole consciousness as a hypnopompic jolt.]

I am calm.

[The bus drives itself to the exit point of my dream. I am bilocated in my bed and behind the steering wheel of the fading bus.]

The lion’s growls become softer; the transmutation of a passing semi-trailer truck on Highway Seventeen.

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