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23rd August 2020: DFLN

24th August 2020 DFLN

Dream:

About classic WoW. On my gnome rogue, using a 100% riding horse. I'm in Winterspring? I fight some lions (but they don't look wintery/snowy like the local tigers should). In-line note: The night before this dream I had watched for the first time the trailer for the remake of Lion King, which I had heard of but not seen much about.

I'm Combat-specced, I think. There were other player characters nearby but I don't remember any interactions, mix of Horde and Alliance, I think. Then Hnk messages me as I'm going to the town, which is more realistic and I walk toward a little shop in one of the buildings.

Hnk was upset about guild recruiting. Some girl lied about something specific in the application to join? But apparently this was normal. I remember we messaged each other for a while, whilst I was still outside but in the middle of the town.

Then I'm in the shop. I remember eventually I stop making notice of the chat UI for a bit. The shop is like one of those little convenience stores where you buy newspapers, magazines and play lottos, etc. There's a lady who runs the shop, behind a counter. I just look around at first.

Something changes as I'm talking to Hnk via messages. Now, all of a sudden, the shop is full of "dirty" magazines. They are pretty much the only thing for sale here now, mostly featuring naked women with artificially bigger breasts. Most of them seem to be around my age. I find it all to be more distasteful than I normally would somehow. Then the lady at the counter complains to herself about how people keep going into the private areas at the back.

I sort of join in and comment that it's ridiculous, people should surely know not to go past the counter. The lady appreciates my understanding of her situation and then I approach and ask her about something. (What?) And then I remember that I was supposed to sort something out while I was here, but I forget what, so we both take guesses at what it could be, for a while. I remember closing my eyes and resting against the counter while I try to remember.

Eventually I "recall" that I needed to sort out some kind of prepayment card. For Hnk? But mom asked me to do it? The lady shows me a plastic plate/card with some information and I try to take a photo of it with my phone, which feels unusually big and unwieldy.

The dream ended shortly after, and there were other dreams but I couldn't recall them.

---

Notes:

- This dream features mixed parts of recent life (classic WoW) and parts of my late teens.
- In the dream, I vaguely recall having thoughts that although I found the magazines distasteful, they were this lady's business, so I made sure to not comment anything out loud about it to myself. This may be a partially direct message aimed at some part of me, using some role reversal as metaphor in the dream.
- The chat with Hnk was particularly long via whisper messages. I only wish I could have recalled more specific wordings or details.

- This dream felt nostalgic in a sense; WoW dreams are generally nostalgic anyway for me but they also tend to be novel, featuring adventures unique to myself and often in alternate versions of game locations or completely new areas. But the shop was reminiscent of when I would go to such shops to play the lottery in my late teens and I often did notice there were these types of lewd magazines at those shops; as I got older I felt like it became more common but maybe this was just a shift of my own perspective. Because of this, in a way, the dream felt nostalgic of how things were before everything started to feel sexualised in some sense.

Morning of October 23, 2018. Tuesday.

Dream #: 18,936-03. Reading time (optimized): 3 min. Readability score: 69.



As my non-lucid dream self, holding no viable threads of my real-life identity, I become vividly aware that I am sitting in the back seat, on the left-hand side, of an otherwise empty car in the Village Shopping Center parking lot in La Crosse. It is nighttime. I become aware that the car belongs to my brother-in-law Bob. (I have not had any contact with Bob since 1994, over twenty years ago.) There are only two other cars present.

An idea comes to my dream self’s fictitious mind that I should go to the driver’s seat and take the car back to the Loomis Street house. I am feeling very cheerful and confident. I get out on the left-hand side and go around to get in the front seat. (This is really about the typical initiating of subliminal control of the dream state and has nothing to do with waking life or “interpretation.”)

I get behind the driver’s seat. It is difficult to close the car doors, and I try several times. They are flimsy and not like real car doors at all, but are about as efficient as a dream can make something that stems from vivid non-lucidity. (It would have been better letting the dream play itself at this specific point.) I have no idea how to start the car. I have no key. I first consider that it starts like a lawn mower, but I do not see a recoil starter assembly. There is a small metal lever on the left side, below the steering wheel. I put my foot on the gas pedal and wiggle the lever. Gasoline starts pouring from underneath the full length of the dashboard. That concerns me. I do not want to incur the risk of something catching on fire. I get out of the car, and two unfamiliar men get out of their cars and come over to help me. At this point, as the men check over the car, I anticipate an explosion (an attempt at subliminal dream control), and I tell them to move away, but nothing happens.

I decide to walk to the Loomis Street house. On the way, walking east on the north side of Sill Street, I notice many boxes of magazines on the boulevard. It is a recurring situation where I realize I can take what I want (as I am deliberately though subliminally creating this scenario at its foundation, knowing it is a dream on one level), as it is left out for garbage pickup. It is also late morning. My non-lucid dream self does not register the impossible time change (as is always the case). I find a stack of magazines that are black-and-white collections of Nancy comic strips (by Ernie Bushmiller). Looking around more, I also notice stacks of interior decorating magazines, which I have no interest in at the time. This part of my dream comes from the lifelong practice of trying to initiate viable emerging consciousness threads by focusing on sustained reading skills of which do not ordinarily exist in the dream state.

I arrive at the Loomis Street house. My sister and mother are there and seem healthy. My dream self has no recall that they are deceased. A minimal thread of my conscious self identity emerges, but it is rather odd. I vaguely recall the concept of marijuana from Nimbin, yet I have no memory that I have lived in Australia for over twenty years or of my real-life status. (Additionally, I would never try drugs in real life under any circumstances, another factor that validates my dream self is not my true conscious self identity.)

I have some “marijuana” that I smoke with my mother and sister. It is rolled-up full-sized newspapers. There is trouble keeping them rolled up, and they burn with big flames, though I still suck in the fire and smoke. As I focus, I am astounded by my vivified perception, and yet I am not lucid. I start to become puzzled as I enter enigmatic space (a specific level of the dream state). I realize, though vaguely, that there is no marijuana and that smoking newspaper is odd.

I start to wake, realizing what my dream self had been creating. Fire is the emerging consciousness and often part of the waking process. The newspapers, at least as related to reading them, are the attempt to sharpen my perception, as I had tried to do in the previous dream segment, but it did not initiate lucidity, only revivification.

---

Morning of August 5, 2018. Sunday.

Reading time: 2 min 36 sec. Readability score: 68.



My dream features several ambiguous transitions, as is often the case. A thread of my dream self identity that links to my current awareness of being with Zsuzsanna is present, but not much else.

The setting is mainly the living room of the Loomis Street house. The couch (near the south window as it was in reality) is not the couch of that time, but like the one from Cubitis when I was a teenager. (This is the one where the back dropped down to make a single bed.) Additionally, despite my lack of viable memory of my current conscious self, it also has the essence of the couch from our current home. Three-way ambiguity is a typical feature of my dreams. This setup does not “mean” anything other than the usual subliminal awareness of being in bed. Dream state indicators of this nature have occurred throughout every sleep cycle all my life.

A thread of potential consciousness initiation emerges. There are several piles of magazines in the storage area in the bottom of the couch. It reflects my desire to become more aware in the dream state (by focusing on printed text), but I remain non-lucid. Zsuzsanna is with me and seems very cheerful. I am somewhat puzzled by how so many magazines could fit under the couch seat, as they seem higher than the top of the storage area by several inches.

My desire for conscious awareness increases but shifts to a different scene. Now I am sitting on a blanket on the floor, still an association with subliminal knowledge of being in bed. An unfamiliar girl is sitting on the floor near me. Later, an unknown male is also present.

I am sorting through various items that had been mixed in with the magazines (even though all the piles were flat). There are many loose screws and metal items. Some seem to be part of handyman kits. I start to gather pieces that go together, thinking that I could sell them. There are some singular hinges, but not all the screws are with them. One screw I try to match with the other is too different. (This all relates to my non-lucid dream self trying to build cohesive conscious self awareness in RAS mediation.) One set of hinges, when open, looks somewhat like the 2009 Chrysler logo. (This is probably this dream’s vestibular system correlation, as it resembles wings as well as having a doorway association.)

Once again, there is a change in awareness. The Loomis Street living room now takes on the typical essence of bilocation. My dream self is indoors and outdoors at the same time. On one level, it is still the Loomis Street living room. On another level, it is in an outdoor rural area near an unfamiliar farm. An interconsciousness avatar is present as a farmer. The farmer’s origin is the Loomis Street house’s northeast bedroom, which is simultaneously an open section of a barn.

---

I am looking at a metal uterus, considering it is part of a V8 engine. It is rather light. It has what seems like small multicolored scales over most of its surface. I say how it is “ragged” as I move my fingers over the scales, thinking of it as an analogy to long-term use and becoming rusty. I give it to the farmer to look at, and it seems he may buy it for a V8 tractor. It is still in good condition according to him.

The last part of this dream, in part, comes from our youngest daughter’s T-shirt that features sequins which change color when moving your hand over them. They also feel like small “ragged” rough scales. Another association stems directly from many years ago. A highly intoxicated unknown male had stopped at a rummage sale on Loomis Street and bought one of my father’s hole cutter drill bits even though its surface was mostly rust-covered.

---

Morning of June 12, 2017. Monday.



I am walking through an unknown city in a commercial area, where there are a number of small stores to my left as I walk. It seems to be late morning. I seem to be on my own at first. I have an interest in looking around in a store and turn to enter a store I think I recognize. When I walk in though, I see it is a clothing store.

“Whoops, wrong store,” I say as I soon turn around to leave. Another (unfamiliar) man who had been walking behind me also enters the store and turns around to leave when I do. It is almost as if he had been having the same thought orientation as I had and was simply following me as if I was “leading”, apparently also looking for whatever I am (even though we had not spoken and I am not even sure where I am going).

I continue to walk, but only a short distance and into another store that has a different type of entrance as the previous. There is a large long checkout counter on my right and an interior wall to my left so that it seems almost like walking through a narrow hall. I continue towards the back and see that it is a large bookstore.

I see a magazine that I find interest in after first noticing what I take to be an Omni magazine. When I pick it up and look through it, I see that it is a science-fiction comic book (in color) about dinosaurs and a group of men. I decide that I will buy it. I look in my wallet and I am somewhat surprised to find at least two one-hundred-dollar bills, a few fifty-dollar bills, and more. I illogically reason that my mother (who died in real life in 2002) had placed the money in my wallet. I have no memory that she had died even though I assume I am my present age.

I then see another magazine I want. I look through it and find it interesting. It also has at least one story relating to dinosaurs but is seemingly for older readers as well as being thicker. It is supposed to come with a CD, but I decide I will ask at the checkout if they have it. Our youngest son appears to my right as I decide to buy one more thing. I see a few groups of Casper comic books to my left. There are about four different covers (different issues) in the groups. I ask my son if he wants one and he says yes and points to one in another area to the right, but I already have one I find interesting and inform him that it is also larger. It is a fifty-two pages “giant” edition. He seems happy.

I go to the checkout and there is an unfamiliar cashier who is a female of perhaps fifty. She has gray hair. I remember to ask about the CD. However, when I look at the magazine, which is wrapped in (transparent) plastic, I see the CD is already there. I tell her that I had thought it would be in a jewel case attached to the cover. She looks at me with wary concern and asks if I had put anything on the CD (such as a computer virus, I assume) and I sarcastically ask her how I could have done that, asking her if I used the cover as a computer. Then I consider that technology might very well allow one to use a magazine cover as a computer, which I talk to her about for a very short time, but nothing negative commences and I remain cheerful.

As I pay, holding my wallet open and taking out a fifty-dollar bill, I notice an unknown female on my right cheerfully looking at the hundred-dollar bills in my open wallet as I hold it up near the counter. It almost seems as if she never saw one before and, slightly wary, I put my wallet away. It turns out however, that she had not been looking at my wallet or even at me; perhaps something on the counter.

---

This dream is a very good example of why dreams are nothing like stories. I am looking through a magazine, planning to ask the cashier where the cover CD is. The magazine is somehow then commercially wrapped, implying it always had been (thus I could not have been looking through it even though I was). I then tell the cashier that I thought it would be in a jewel case, which makes no sense as I said this spontaneously and had really not considered it in this manner. Then the cashier asks if I had “put something” on the CD. Obviously, being wrapped, I could not have, and even if I had, I am buying it, so whatever I might have put on it would only be in my possession and with no problem or concern for others.

Additionally, my mother died in 2002, yet my son, born in 2007, is with me at his present age. My mother only ever lived in America and would not have had Australian money of such an amount to give me, thus making the setting itself ambiguous by location. Omni magazine stopped publication (in print) in Winter 1995. The Casper comic book, though new, was like one from around 1971. The threads of the fictional dream self always seem completely different each time and from many different timelines and temporary false memories.

---

Morning of February 26, 2015. Thursday.



This was one of those dreams which greatly distorted time (one of those unlikely “alternate timeline” kind of ways) and personalities. However, there are some insignificant parallels between otherwise unrelated personal associations, though they seem somewhat pointless and out-of-place (as well as long-outdated relative to my present life).

In the first part of my dream I find myself in an alley in a basic scene that used to be recurring, but that was more-so years ago. In this case, I find two types of items that have been placed in boxes near dumpsters in an alley near, I believe, a pawn shop. There are a large number of craft items, mostly cross-stitch kits, still new and unopened. One smaller kit seems to be that of a rose. I think about how it would be good to give it to my sister (who is deceased in reality). I also find numerous comic books as well as educational books and some historical magazines relating to war. There are a lot of duplicate items.

For some time, I look through the various books (as well as the boxes in general) and am trying to work out how to get some of it back to my sister’s house, because I eventually gather enough to fill about half of a small room. Two police officers (male and female) stop by for a short time, but there is no concern that I am doing anything wrong. They mostly talk to a few others involved in trying to work out why the boxes are stacked there and if they have the right to take any (because, in fact, it may be related to a delivery to the business rather than the business discarding items). It turns out that my sister’s house is about six to eight blocks away to the east and a couple blocks north from there. Something relative to my awareness shifts in my dream and even though I am not lucid, I am able to pick up the entire collection of items and casually carry it down the street as if I was a “human forklift”. I have no sense of heavier weight carrying this high and wide pile of boxes with both hands out in front of me in an otherwise impossible manner (this seems to be the first time in my life that I have dreamed of this specifically).

The location is La Crosse (America) and it does not “register” that my family and I are living in Australia (in reality). For some reason, my youngest son is sometimes looked after by a female (CS) who has what is now known as Dissociative Identity Disorder (as well as other problems) who had also known my older sister in real life years ago. I only seem to think about this as concern begins to grow as my dream progresses and the false back story is vaguely built. It seems this female may even be living downstairs in my sister’s house and taking care of a (unknown) boy and girl as well as my youngest son at times. I am not sure why my wife would not be taking care of him when I am not home. Our other children do not seem to be present at any point. Both my sister and her friend are as they would have appeared about thirty years ago though my son appears as he should. In my dream, I get the impression that my wife and family and I live across the street from my sister, though again, the back story is not that clear.

The level of alteration and distortion at this point is quite unwarranted (which is somewhat atypical of how my dreams usually unfold). However, it may be partly based on long-resolved or “extinct” concerns - relating more to my wife’s mother in some ways than my sister’s friend (both are extremely deceitful troublemakers). Somehow, my youngest son may not even be clear on who I am due to how long I have supposedly been absent (which has never been the case in reality with any of our children). At one point, my son says “I know who you are” as if speaking to someone who is not actually me and in a negative sense. When I speak to my sister about the problematic female that has likely misguided my youngest son, my sister starts out saying “I feel…” (as if ready to defend that person for some reason) but I interrupt immediately by sarcastically saying “you feel…what?” (This may be some sort of subtle awareness that my dream self knew she had died; even showing an undue in-dream meanness towards her.) From here, my dream decays, but there remains a very unlikely nature to the entire scenario. Although it is typical for many types of dreams, even ones closer to one’s real life path, to get everything wrong (other than any mixed literally or visually precognitive and remote viewing layers) this one was more distorted than usual.

Morning of September 29, 2014. Monday.



Much of the first part of my dream was bizarrely distorted with only the ending sections being more coherent and memorably detailed. I am sitting on a bench along the wall of a bank, in the corner of the very large room. Perpendicular to my seat is a counter where two young unknown female tellers are working to my right. Apparently, I am there to help in the progress of an upcoming bank robbery. I am contemplating this and have decided that instead, I will help stop the planned robbery.

Eventually, two bizarre older twin male characters come in and I know that they are the ones to begin the robbery. They are only about four feet tall and move in a very odd manner, their bodies being almost like penguins. One of them jumps several feet into the air for some unknown reason. I alert the tellers to the planned robbery and feel that I have changed from being a villain into being a hero, as if it were some sort of important back story to my dream. It feels very precise and realistic even though it does not at all relate to my real life in any way.

After this, I walk out into an area adjacent to the bank’s parking lot, which seems like some sort of composite of an outdoor library and magazine vendor (recurring - possibly an in-dream continuous “rebellion” or in-dream “law” of being told “this ain’t no library, kid” when looking at a magazine from the shelf of a vendor in real life in childhood). The vividness of my dream peaks the most at this point, as well as with more realistic detail and bright colors. There are a lot of interesting magazines and books on display. There is a harmonious awareness and I feel a sense of peace. I notice one magazine spread that is about eye-level on the shelf. It is a two-page photograph (seemingly taken outside or on a veranda) of a male (from about the shoulders up) with long dark hair and a partly indiscernible, yet somewhat stoic expression. He looks much like me (but I do not recognize the image as such in-dream) but perhaps ten or more years older. I perceive it as possibly a composite of Carl Sagan and Isaac Asimov (except the male is not wearing glasses) or one of the two (though the male in the photograph looks Native American for the most part), yet there is also a vague idea that he is a rock star. I look to my right on a shelf perpendicular to the one I am studying and see another copy of the magazine that is displaying the spread (with other copies in the same general area). It is a National Geographic magazine that is closer to A4-sized rather than its smaller digest size. I recognize the design and yellowish colors and vignettes and soon see the wording.

Instead of looking into the magazines more, I find my dream losing a bit of vividness. I notice other people behind me and to my right who are sitting at picnic tables reading other books from the outdoor “library”. I turn right and “walk out of my dream” with seemingly semiconscious intent.

Night of May 27, 2014. Tuesday.



My wife’s younger sister Judy has come to the house (though she has not been here in real life very often at all). We are all in the main part of the front room. Instead of a sofa, there is a bed oriented east to west. It seems fairly dark in the room, though the television is on giving enough light to see a little.

I am spending most of the in-dream time trying to stop four stacks of magazines from falling to the floor (as well as possibly falling more towards me and getting messed up or spread over the bed). They could possibly be my wife’s craft magazines (which seems most likely, although there may also be one stack of old Warren magazines such as “Vampirella” or “Eerie”). I am partially lying down but have my arm up across the four piles so that they stay relatively balanced on the soft mattress.

As Judy is talking to my wife (Judy on the right facing my wife and closer to the front door), I notice a number of red marks and bruise-like patterns on her face; around her eyes, nose and mouth - very similar to the seemingly fake infomercial that promotes some sort of skin cream, where women have a similar look - but where the “skin problems” seem mostly done by makeup. I recall this in the back of my mind and how “fake” it looks, though I suspect that Judy may actually have some sort of skin problem at this time.

As she talks about her various problems (likely mostly with her mother and how she let her ruin her life), she talks about “going back to Manuel”.

I find this somewhat intriguing as there are at least four ways to look at it - the usual multilayering of authentic dreams over bland conscious constructs passed off as “dreams” - or faded residual memories of a dream where the multiple layers or important “plays” are lost…

One being that Manuel could be her (fictional) old boyfriend, which is my first impression…

Two being that she is talking about “manual control” (rather than being intimate with a man in a relationship),

Three being as opposed to “autopilot” in paying more attention to things as should be the case in her abusive (over many years) situation.

Four in reference to a paperback “instructional” manual (since my dream featured four stacks of magazines) in needing to study one to gain more critical thinking skills and “advice on life” relative to her problems.

It also turned out to have the usual precognitive layer (relative to my own perspective anyway - or a form of postcognition), as the first thing I saw after waking was the line “Former heaviest man Manuel Uribe dies aged 48” as an Internet news headline I had no way of knowing about (which actually only ties in with a news show regarding a different man who was Australian and could not get out of bed).

The “typical” shorter nightly nap dream - several layers of potential meanings or complex associations, and immediately resolved precognition. It is what it is.

Morning of May 22, 2014. Thursday.



I am in a small second-hand book store in an unknown location. There are two unknown females behind the counter which is nearly chest high. There is a table with at least eight piles of comic magazines to my right that, although seem a lot like Warren magazines in overall design are actually (fictional) black-and-white Avengers comic magazines which I have not seen before (possibly from the early 1980s). I put several on the counter to buy after going through the stacks, eventually adding up to about a dozen or more. The younger cashier on the right says that she will take off a certain amount of money from the total price if I buy more, so I look over what I had already put on the counter, and look more at the ones on the table. The total will probably be about $23.00 to $24.00 or somewhere around that range.

I read the title “Avengers” on each cover, but I start to focus on only the covers that feature Marvel’s Black Cat character, all in similar full-body layouts for the most part, although she looks more like DC’s Catwoman. Also, I call her “Black Widow” which is yet another character and more to do with the actual Avengers. There are at least a dozen or more of these magazines I decide to get and eventually decide to only get those that feature her on the cover. However, over time, I have to keep putting the covers back on. I notice that when I pick one up sometimes, the cover is missing and still on the table, which I then put back over the rest of the book. In addition to all that, some of the covers remind me (in overall style of art) of Silver Sable.

In the long run, I only refer to her as “Black Widow” in my dream even though it may be a version of the Black Cat though I do not wish to sound ignorant. The cashiers do not correct me if such is the case.

After this dream, I also realized it could have been relative to “The Avengers” television series, which is unrelated to Marvel’s Avengers. The title in my dream matched some stylized titles of the show.

I was in an RV and saw a tidal wave heading right for me. I quickly realized I was dreaming because tidal waves are a huge dream sign for me for some reason. I decided to get the hell out of there because dream or not being pummeled by a tidal wave sucks. I was then in a city somewhere in Mexico. I was walking and looking around and everything was getting fuzzy and starting to go out of focus. Then I noticed the street. I could feel its rough and rigid texture through my shoes. It felt so real that I began dragging my feet along the road and was astonished by the extent to which I could feel all these little bumps and ridges. When I looked back up the dream was one of the most vivid I've ever had, things looked very real. So stoked about my lucidity I began wandering the town.

I entered a house and remembered that people some times practiced things in their dreams. I had a test coming up, so I decided I'd try and study. I began searching for a textbook for about 10 seconds and then thought to myself, wait, study in my dream, this is stupid lol. So then I left the house back to the streets, and this is where things get really weird. I decide I want to have sex because I can't think of anything better to do at the time and there's already plenty of women walking around so I wouldn't have to do much work. I approach one, who happens to be the hot girl from sex in the city (talk about schema interaction, looking for sex while in the city = girl from sex in the city haha) and tell her we're going to have sex and I start to think of where we're going to do this. I then see this chair that looks sort of like a chair at the dentist crossed with a massage table and I walk her backwards onto it. I climb on top of her chair and she turns into an open magazine with a picture of her in it. WTF?! I shout. I go get another girl and she turns into a magazine before we even get to the chair. Finally I find some woman who is going to perform oral sex for me, as we are walking she begins to rapidly age until she looks like some broken down old crack whore, and that's when I just give up and wake up shortly after.

3/26/2009

Lucid School

have to actually *get* to school. more on this later:

money at the cash register

money on the floor

lighters on the floor

stupid boys

magazines on T

I'm sad I never went back to fill in this entry. I remember a little bit about it, but I don't know how I became lucid. I know I sometimes find money in my dreams and pick it up and put it in my pocket. I think I was finding money everywhere, and then I was selling magazines in a neighborhood. I really wish I could remember.

Morning of August 26, 1997. Tuesday.



I dreamt of a skeleton that was buried in Cubitis (where I have not lived since 1978). The identity of the skeleton remains unknown. A strong wind blows dirt from it as I watch. Eventually, instead of a skeleton, it turns out to be edges of many interesting magazines and books. (Human remains becoming something else over time, or having been something else even when there does seem to be a real change, has been a sparsely recurring dream event.)

---

Because skeletons, ghosts, and similar concepts relate to unfocused conscious awareness within a dream when books define a clearer conscious focus (though I do not become lucid), such a dream symbolizes increasing neural activity towards waking. Wind represents the passage of time.

---

Morning of April 7, 1973. Saturday.



I have come to realize that even this (much older) dream had at least one precognitive element; that is, a tag on an item when in a store to know when someone has stolen (or is trying to steal) the particular item - although the first time I saw something similar in real life was years later at the main library in Wisconsin, and later on, the usage of such a device in record and video stores and finally grocery stores (regarding my own experiences, anyway).

In my dream, I am in some sort of science-fiction movie called “Homing Magazines”, which is a play on “homing pigeons”, I take it. My dream features a “ridiculous” (at the time, at least to my family and me) idea that stores, including grocery stores, could tell when someone was taking something by causing a simple beeping (several years before it happened in real life, at least seemingly where I lived in a small rural area) by having some sort of tag on the item that can be activated or deactivated or have something over it (like a tinfoil sticker or some such) to “turn it off” - a sort of “scanner”.

There were a few versions of this dream. The first one was a mix of science-fiction and crime drama, where the store (similar to something I saw quite later in real life, so that is another precognitive facet) made a claim that their prices were much higher due to shoplifting, which seemed obnoxious, kind of like the mentality of when the activities of one “class clown” results in the whole class being punished.

The device also acts as some sort of homing beacon, which then actually causes the items to somehow fly back to the store or warehouse. Magazines move through the air late at night like magic carpets. A box of tacks opens, and with some sort of magnetic pattern, causes each individual tack to fly in formation like a large number of airplanes (or a flock of geese), point first. However, action figures only walk (not fly) back and toy cars drive back. Certain food items, like milk cartons, do fly back to one store, though. Pink-frosted doughnuts move through the night sky like miniature UFOs.

Eventually, it comes to the attention of the authorities that one store is taking everything back, but when people finally go to investigate, the store has moved to another location. I see various items moving through the air late at night to the new location. The new technology even senses people and their movements and speech and deliberately leads them to wrong locations. There is then a special crime lab that studies the “rogue technology” as they call it, although I am vaguely aware of the term “maverick tech”, possibly the name of the business that makes the illegal technology. This eventually causes all stores to drop theft-related technology and offer higher competition in their “loss leaders”.