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Morning of July 15, 2017. Saturday.



My dream starts out on the porch of the Barolin Street house (our previous home of where we have not lived since 2008). This is atypical, as the porch setting, though representing liminal space, is linked to the induction stage rather than the waking transition. As such, it begins to rain (water induction, my most common type, as water symbolizes the real-time dynamics of sleep). I enjoy its essence but I then realize that there are several small stacks of comic books in the north side yard, probably only four or five comic books in each of about nine stacks. Many seem to be Harvey comic books, such as “Casper the Friendly Ghost”. They are arranged in mostly an equidistant pattern (of about six inches apart to each direction) on a very low-set table or thin plywood platform. Zsuzsanna is with me. I realize that I have to run and get them so that they are not ruined.

When I go out into the rain, I feel very good, even though I have to act quickly. Curiously, the books show no signs of getting wet as I gather them. After I take them onto our porch, my dream changes, and there are far less threads of my conscious self identity present.

I now seem to be about eighteen years old or younger. My mother is still alive (and I have absolutely no recall of her having died in 2002). Strangely, even though my brother Earl did not die until November 29, 2007, I perceive him (via a false memory and false backstory) as having died when I was a teenager. (Therefore, my mother being alive in my dream and Earl being deceased is a typical error that dreams make all the time.)

The setting is very sparse in detail and so undefined, there is no discernment of whether it is indoors or outdoors or the typical ambiguous combination that my dream self somehow always perceptually resolves. This “impossible” thinking pattern is not viable when I am fully conscious, and remains a distortion native to the dream state only (though I really cannot understand how this could work despite critical thinking skills not existing in most non-lucid dream types).

My mother is present at times, including the very last scene. I mostly look at various Matchbox Cars. These are ones my brother Earl supposedly owned while living in Cubitis. (Although I still continuously have dreams based on variations of Cubitis, where I have not lived since the summer of 1978, dreaming of Earl’s house in Cubitis, which was only a few houses south of us, is quite rare.) Earl is present in some sort of ghost form, but otherwise appears to be normal, as he was in perhaps the late 1960s. He only looks on at my activities at times.

Yet another error in this dream is that I see Earl as being married to his third wife Cindy in this time period (and she is “still” living in his Cubitis house) rather than his first wife Beverly (and in fact, I have no awareness of him being married to anyone else). His ghost form seems to be a natural result of dying; that is, people die, and then they exist as visible “ghosts”, set apart from the physical world, but otherwise just as they were when alive.

I open a long rectangular cardboard box that is a racing set based on Matchbox Cars. There is a blue racing car that I look at for a short time. I do not think Earl will be angry as I look at his collection.

In the last scene, my mother is nearby. I play around with two blue Matchbox Car pickup trucks that are identical except for the position of the wings of the oversized white chicken sitting in each pickup truck bed. I get the impression it might be meant to be an advertising gimmick (possibly for KFC). One chicken’s wings are out and horizontal while the other’s wings are down and against its body. The chickens also rotate to spin around the pickup truck bed, and I start spinning them prior to waking.

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Although this non-lucid dream is extraordinarily easy to decode the native meaning of as most of my non-lucid dreams are, I will presently only focus on the last amusing segment. Chickens are birds that cannot fly very well, so are a typical example of “failed flight” (a form of “return flight”) waking symbolism. This is not negative and has nothing to do with conscious self “issues” as “dream interpreters” (not a real concept) seem to like to pretend via the Barnum effect. Waking symbolism as such is an indicator of the anticipatory (though subliminal) nature of hypnopompia, which is a biological process. As a result, bird and airplane symbolism (and flying in general) has been extremely common in my dreams since earliest memory, for over fifty years, continuously occurring in over one in five dreams in the tens of thousands I have studied.

In this one, there is even an obvious dream sign play, the pickup truck BED, an indicator of being in the dream state, even more so with the oversized chickens on them. Pairs of birds (of various species) have occurred in a number of my dreams. They represent, in most cases, Zsuzsanna and I sleeping together. They are different in their wing status (and in different pickup trucks) in this case due to Zsuzsanna and I being in different levels of sleep (in real time). My mother as my emergent consciousness is likely a vague association with Zsuzsanna prior to waking (as she is a mother to our children). Beds (sometimes in unusual locations) as real-time dream state indicators are also common in Zsuzsanna’s dreams.

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Morning of March 21, 2016. Monday.



I am with my family mostly as we are now (though I seem to be much younger at one point) where we presently live on W Street, though the house is bigger. Our kitchen is much bigger and has an extra counter running from south to north on the east side of the back hallway, with extra shelves above it. As I walk through our kitchen at one point, I notice a lot of loaves of bread and what seems to be cheap birthday party items (such as unopened packages with paper hats, paper plates, and cheap novelties and party favors and such). I am not sure whose birthday is upcoming.

At one point, there are a lot of Matchbox Cars arranged on different surfaces, mostly in two rows. A couple older males appear in our house eventually, though I am not sure of the reason. There is something about one of them trying to find a certain Matchbox Car, but which is a car from the 1940s. I try to help but I am not sure where everything is. I know I have most of the ones made in the 1960s. I think the Mercedes 300SE may be relevant but I do not say anything, only that I may be able to find what they are seeking (though I do not).

There is illogical setting distortion for a short time where I seem to shift outside and back inside while just standing in one spot (though the view may be implied to be from our window, though as a requisite it would have no screen or curtains), where I am looking at one of the men (who must have teleported there but who is back for the next scene) in a small light yellow golf cart (facing away from the west side of our house on the footpath) which seemingly resembles a downsized Roadster Hot Rod from the 1940s and I remark that I have a Matchbox Car like that, which is not exactly true as I firstly mistake the golf cart for an old car design and then consider I may be thinking about a different model, yet it really just looks like a modern ordinary golf cart upon a closer look. I feel a bit unusual and ineffectual in designating a new golf cart as a 1940s hot rod but the scene shifts again (though the scene itself seems random and like a “glitch” or like a very short dream within a longer and more vivid dream that slightly altered its flow).

Interestingly, Jack Odell (March 19, 1920-July 7, 2007) is present and walking about for quite some time. I am not sure why he is spending his time here for a day or two. We are talking about various aspects of Matchbox Cars (as the time period seems to shift physically only at one level and my collection is not present as it was just previously - though our sons still have many Matchbox Cars in their own rooms) as well as other ideas, including the unfortunate end of product quality and customer service in modern times with poorer and poorer design and less and less longevity and usability in anything made. He reflects on various events. I tell him how I used to keep my Matchbox Cars in a large suitcase. For some reason, I visualize all of them piled atop each other within the suitcase (it was actually a large black typewriter case), but in reality, they were kept in the original box. I tell him about the very first Matchbox Car I was given, which I cannot quite remember the name or number of. I give a couple details about it, including the green boat for the rack on top, and he seems to know what I mean.

“Ford Love,” he says, smiling. (It was actually a Ford Corsair.) I consider that Ford Love is a “real” model and nod hesitantly (since I do not want to call him wrong), but possibly not the one I had, though I do not say anything. He seems happy and nostalgic and I feel I am spending a day in a “realm of good memories” - yet I also seem puzzled as to why such a wealthy and well-known person would spend a day or two at our house, especially in such an informal and friendly manner. There are dream remnants that seem like “echoes” of long periods of conversation, like a subtle “phantom audio” that only some dream types produce.

Morning of October 13, 1968. Sunday.



I am in school with a special sort of book that has Matchbox Cars inside it. In one dream journal entry, my earliest record of this scene, I originally called this “The Small, Flat Car”. The actual case seems to be that I can take out and put back in real Matchbox Cars in this special book (based on the photos becoming “wells” within the book - recurring, and a long-term idea in childhood dreams). There is one version where I seem to be sitting in the back of the class for what seems like a very long time, and am somewhat concerned about a car being partially flat yet trying to fit it between the pages so that the teacher does not notice that I have my toys in school. It did not work most of the time, though I still was not noticed, seemingly from sitting so far back in the classroom.