All DJ Entries

Note: The rest of the dreams from this night are only fragments, and none of them are lucid, but I will post them here because I think one or more of them might have been shared. If you read this and recognize yourself in here, please let me know, otherwise it might have just been a DC that I mistook for you in my non-lucidity.

Area 51
I am in an underground room, there is no way to see that it is underground, but somehow I know it is. It's just a feeling I get like I am far under the surface of the Earth. I go over to the door and find it's not locked, so I walk right out into the hallway. I have the feeling I'm not really supposed to be there, so I try to avoid meeting anyone as I look through the halls. I hear someone coming and I duck into a small room that turns out to be a storage closet of some kind. The problem is they are coming into the closet… I lock the door from the inside, the door locks manually in there, and then I climb up the shelves and through a panel on the ceiling. I get out of sight just before the door unlocks and a man enters, muttering expletives about the door not needing to be locked with all the security on the entire floor. What security, I wonder, I haven't seen any security… I crawl through the vent system for a while, looking down into the different rooms as I pass. I see a computer room filled with computer operators, a lab with scientists messing around with chemicals, an office with a meeting going on, a room with a couple of soldiers aiming a gun at MoSh… wait a minute… aiming guns at MoSh? They want to shoot MoSh? Not on my watch! I go over to the ceiling area right over the soldiers, and I climb onto the panels that I know won't hold my weight… and CRASH! I fall through the floor and land right on top of the soldiers. One is knocked unconscious, the other is starting to get up when I kick him in the head and knock him unconscious. MoSh pulls a kitten with wires on its head from his shirt somewhere. He says he rescued the cat from having experiments done on it, but doesn't know how to get the wires out… I take the kitten and look at it, the wires don't seem to be causing discomfort to the cat, but then I wake up.

Area 51: The DDO Version
I am in what seems to be the same complex I was in during the last dream, walking down the same corridors, still avoiding people because I feel I should not be there. Just like in that dream, I enter a closet and climb into the air vent system. I am exploring that, though the rooms I see below are different than before. There are no computers, though there is a room full of kobolds doing something with crystals. There is another room where kobolds are fighting against each other to train. This is really strange… in the next room there are a couple of hobgoblins guarding a large treasure chest. I hear more activity to my right, so I turn down that vent shaft to see what is going on, and I see there is a large chamber filled with hobgoblins and one person fighting them. I see that person and recognize him… he's Tigress' character from our DDO games! What was his name? Nexiel! That's an awful lot of hobgoblins for one person to fight, though, so I look around for something to be used as a weapon. There is a display of swords on a wall, so I drop down over there and grab a sword. I enter the battle with Nexiel, who seems to know me, leading me to believe if it might actually be Tigress. I don't really have much time to consider that with the fighting going on, cutting, slicing, stabbing… the hobgoblins are gone soon, and Nexiel hands out healing potions. It tastes like fruit punch. We go to the next room, make quick work of the two hobgoblins guarding the chest, but before we get to open the chest I wake up.

The Mist
I am inside an office building yet again, but this time I can tell it isn't underground because there is a window looking outside. It seems I am on about the second floor, but I can't tell for sure because the fog outside is as thick as pea soup, I can't see more than inches from the window. I go to the hall and make my way downstairs where there is a group of people near the front door. I ask what is going on, a man says we are all going to die in here, a woman says we are doomed, there is no escape, and a little girl starts crying. The girl's mother gets mad at the man and woman talking doom, saying they need to shut up and stop scaring the children. I ask again what the problem is. A man tells me to look outside and ask that again, so I do. I look into the fog and ask what the problem is. Sure, it wouldn't be safe to drive in that, but it will burn off in time. Everyone looks at me as if I am crazy, a woman says if I want to go out there and die, be her guest… she isn't going anywhere near that door. Another woman says this is the wrath of God being visited upon sinners everywhere. I just look at them for a bit… going into the fog means death? The wages for sin is fog? I ask if it is toxic or something, an old man says it isn't toxic, but… I ask them what it would take to get them out. A man says there is a big RV out there, if someone could get to the RV, they could all escape. I ask where. He says it is about 600 feet straight out from the door… but that's the length of two football fields! No one would ever make it! Cut that out, wuss… keys, please. The woman who first told me to go ahead and go is now saying she didn't mean it, she doesn't want to see anyone else die. I tell her it's fog, it's not toxic. I'll get the RV. The man finally hands me the keys.

So I head for the door and out it… then I realize I can't see the RV. I ask if anyone has a flashlight, shine it into the fog so I can use that to keep my bearings and not wander off in some abstract direction. A man has a large flashlight from an emergency box and does that. I head out into the fog. Making sure to keep the flashlight beacon behind me, I walk in a straight line towards where he said the RV should be. The fog is actually a bit creepy, it looks like Silent Hill, but I find that rather cool instead of scary. Things are moving out there, thicker areas of fog? It looks like creatures… cool effect… I wish I had something to video tape or photograph with. Something big lands on my shoulder, it is the size of an eagle, but it is not an eagle… it is a cricket! Wtf? It starts chirping in my ear… a deafening sound… I push the cricket off, saying to do that again on the other side, I can still hear a bit over there… The cricket continues to chirp. I continue walking in a straight line and I find there is something right in front of me… it's a spider… a HUGE one…

like Aragog from Harry Potter! It is looming over me menacingly, without thinking I tell him to cool it and go try to scare someone else. The spider obediently goes away. I find the RV and get in, driving it back towards the beacon light. I honk a couple of times and then drive right through the glass doors. Everyone is boarding the RV through the back doors, I get up from the seat and say that was easy… then I wake.

Night of January 1, 1989. Sunday.



I find myself wandering around in an unknown city, though of which is not very defined, walking from out of an alley, becoming more aware of my existence, though with only partial passive lucidity. It seems to be early evening, though there is not that much light. A low-lying mist, of which comes up halfway to my knees, drifts over some areas of the ground.

After perceiving a few unfamiliar people on the streets, I find myself in the presence of Columbo (the fictional TV detective played by Peter Falk). At first, I am somewhat wary of his presence (though I have no thoughts of having done anything wrong) but then I realize he is only puzzled by his surroundings and sees me as someone of whom he can ask directions. I do not recall all of the conversation but when I start to tell him where Fifth Avenue is after he asks, he holds his right hand up (as an indication for me to wait a minute) and takes out a yellow legal pad and pen from inside his rumpled beige trench coat.

Unexpectedly, a pigeon soon flies out from under his trench coat. He takes a step back and looks up, with a very puzzled visage, as it flies away. I feel very amused.

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dream processing dynamics; causes, and meanings:

the presence of mist is a factor of being in the dream state (as sometimes inferred and used as such in movies and stage plays)

reticular activating system mediation as vestibular system personification as Peter Falk as his fictional TV character detective Columbo because of being in the dream state as being “a mystery to solve”

liminal anticipation of the waking process causes transference of vestibular system correlation as a bird in flight (rather than the biologically induced sleep start)

Preconscious: Columbo, Emergent Consciousness Factor: flying pigeon, Dream Type: vestibular system correlation (bird in flight metaphor)

This is a unique transmutation of the “walking in a city and tripping, misstepping, or stepping off the curb and falling” dream, which has otherwise occurred on a nightly basis for over fifty years.

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Morning of January 4, 1969. Saturday.



This childhood dream journal entry has been revised on Friday 20 October 2017 to complete and clarify revelatory dynamics to more coherently define the meaning. This dream occurred about 3:30 in the morning. Sunrise was not until about 7:20 a.m. I had attempted to watch the 1942 black-and-white movie “Cat People” (which started around one a.m. on this Saturday morning), though our television was black-and-white anyway, but I slept through most of it, though I did not go to my bed until about 3:15 in the morning.

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In my dream, as I am walking out from the front of our Cubitis carport (after deliberately “stepping into” the stabilized hypnagogic “portal” rendered as the unlit carport area), seemingly only about three-thirty to four o'clock in the morning, and walking in a northwesterly direction towards our neighbor’s orange grove, I maintain my lucidity.

Even though I am lucid, I feel somewhat vulnerable when I find myself walking into the opening of a fictional feature. It is a hallway in which the walls are seemingly made of fog, yet with a suggestion of at least partial solidity. This eerie hallway starts from between the middle area of the driveway and the neighbor’s orange grove, and runs from east to west towards Highway Seventeen (and is perpendicular to it). I do not perceive the potential length of this hallway or clearly discern a door or doorway on the opposite side, which makes me hesitant in continuing.

From here, I see various domestic cats (at least fifteen) in various positions throughout the hallway ahead. Some cats are sitting or standing on tables (one near a vase on a table) and some are sitting or standing on the implied hallway’s floor. One cat jumps down from a table (or simple platform) on the left side in this scene and walks toward me though never gets very close or attacks. An unknown male narrator’s voice (seeming to come from above and to my left and as if from a loudspeaker with slightly fuzzy audio) only says “cats” in a very informal way and without emotion. I feel that he may not be speaking to me as it may be a voice that was recorded years ago. There is also the vague idea that I may not be fully in the setting but looking at a realistic three-dimensional movie scene either superimposed or bilocated into the front yard area. Despite my lucidity, I feel somewhat wary, uncertain, and passive to what I am seeing even though there is no discernible threat. Soon, with deliberate intent (lucid choice), I fade from my dream with a soft awakening. (The liminal space transition is also softer than usual.)

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Following is an extensive and highly revelatory explanation of the most likely factors and personal history responsible for this dream along with their related meanings. I have recorded this dream as of the doorway waking symbolism type.

It was obvious to me at the time (despite being only eight years old), that my dream was trying to fill in missing details from “Cat People” even though that was not my original dream entry intent (which was to visit my younger neighbor and friend, Brenda, who lived north of me). However, my dream was completely unrelated to the movie’s plot as my distorted memory implied that the movie was about an older woman with a fear of domestic cats.

The otherwise ambiguous hallway setting is modeled after two common real-life locations and progressions, one, walking through the hallway in my Cubitis home, and two, walking down our Cubitis driveway (as the fictional hallway was rendered as just north of it and parallel to it) to wait for the school bus on week day mornings. The possibly implied exit of the fictional foggy hallway would be at the east wayside of Highway Seventeen and it should also be mentioned that while waiting for the bus on week days in this time period, there was sometimes dense fog. Fog was far more common as a dream feature during the time periods there was fog in the mornings in real life, although fog also seems to be a factor of the dream state itself, possibly influenced by dream scenes in movies that include fog (to represent that it is a dream), though is also a natural association with dreaming.

There is also an association with Carl Sandburg’s poem “Fog”; the line “The fog comes on little cat feet” (which was silently integrated into my dream near the last moments). The poem was first published in 1916 and my mother was born in 1916. This seems to be the association with the “old woman” (my mother) with a supposed fear of domestic cats (again, not what 1942’s “Cat People” was about). However, neither my mother nor I had any trepidation relating to cats. In fact, my mother had a pet gray tabby named Dewey at this time. The mild trepidation in my dream was more about my lucidity being intruded upon by the absentminded association with the movie that I had not even seen much of, based on my earlier wondering about it (but not consciously intending for it to be carried into the dream state as it was).

There is one more relevant commonly recurring factor I should include here. The doorway waking symbolism and other types that sometimes include the liminal space cat symbolism (in addition to the term “putting the cat out for the night” as subliminally relating to shifts in unconsciousness and waking symbolism itself) curiously was validated to have come from having seen the ending credits of “The Flintstones” (an animated television series) so many times. A domesticated saber-toothed cat is seen throwing Fred out of his house (after Fred firstly put the cat out) during the end credits, resulting in Fred pounding on his front door and yelling “Wilma!”, waking the whole neighborhood. This also established not only the relevant waking symbolism but additionally established this symbolism as a more influential dream state end marker in many examples throughout my fifty years of dream journaling. There are additional reasons for liminal space cat symbolism, one being an influence from the 1962 animated movie “Gay Purr-ee”, another with my childhood association of a cat sitting on a fence as existing between dreaming and waking (that is, a fence as the liminal space divider between dreaming and waking). Additionally, I think of cats as being more active at night or while people are sleeping and dreaming, thus a natural symbol of the dream state itself.

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Morning of September 28, 1968. Saturday.



I am sent to a warehouse-like area during school hours (even though I sense it is a Saturday - as it indeed is in real life) west of the school (West Elementary) and across the street to get a couple of textbooks, I think for other students (and perhaps one for myself). It is fairly dark inside.

A large “dogerpillar” crawls slowly near me from another part of the warehouse as a mist seems to rise up from the floor. There are shades of cyan, purple, white, and orange, and, terrified it will reach me, I stand up on a large crate just barely out of its reach as It is unable to lift itself, and can only crawl horizontally, which is an in-dream “relief” to me. It is at least a foot high or more and about five feet long. It starts making a strange, short mournful whining sound and I start to try to imitate the sound so that the creature will think I am one of its young (or one of its kind at least) and move on elsewhere. I continue to stand on the box making the sound in a somewhat worried state. Originally I had written “After awhile, I think that the creature may end up thinking that I am its offspring and may want something from me or to properly feed me! It seems there may not be a real way out.”

I am less afraid near the end (but still have an odd in-dream “faux end of the world” nervousness), but am concerned about missing reading class, and am wondering why they did not keep such a weird creature locked up. There is sort of a concern that I may never get out, but I slowly wake. (Oddly, there is no stronger thought of attempting to run away, even though the creature is very slow in its movements.)

Upon waking, I had found out (from my mother) that I was making a similar sound (vaguely like “vumpadump”) for several minutes before waking from the very vivid dream. (I have heard from some people that a person is unable to make sounds or speak in syllables when dreaming, but like almost everything else I have heard about dreams - it personally turned out to be wrong.) It is possible that the creature was partly based on the one from “The Monster That Challenged the World”, which I saw on Rose Street when about age five.

The very first dream journal title of this was “The Thing in the Room”. Someone who saw it (David K) said the title should be changed to “The Thing in the Attic”, which was pointless, as it was not an attic, so I later changed it to “The Thing in the Warehouse”. Because of what it looked like (a giant caterpillar with a weird dog-like head), the final title was “The Dogerpillar”.

This was not the first version of this dream. See this link: http://blue-opossum.tumblr.com/post/...ditional-notes

Night of September 9, 1976. Thursday.



One of the worst nights of pain based on the operation on my right thumb (on the 25th of August) and wrist (and much tissue removed), a cobra strikes me on my thumb in my dream, extraordinarily vivid and bright in the backyard (Cubitis), seemingly in early morning.

Finally, my mother gives me a stronger painkiller again and I slip into an extraordinarily vivid and lucid dream. I am rolling down an embankment head over heals, along a grassy hillside, doing “perfect” somersaults with no physical discomfort whatsoever, and in fact, feeling quite peaceful and blissful. I roll into a river of mist. It looks like a normal river and in an otherwise normal meadow-like area, but instead is made of flowing foggy tendrils instead of running water. I am heading into a “bottomless” domain, much like Alice on morphine, I suppose, and am completely free from all discomfort and concern.

I “land” softly in a hallway after moving downwards through the mist for a seemingly long time, which appears to be the set for some sort of avant-garde movie called “Hello Harry”. It is about a young businessman who dies at an early age on his birthday (late twenties, I think). All of the other workers at the business, both male and female (but mostly male) benefit only from his work (and do little themselves) - yet he is mostly disliked by his business associates. This seems to imply that the business will now fail since he has died (though he is not the manager - there may be some sort of very subtle connection to “Gunga Din” by vague implications), without the other associates knowing or acknowledging his role in keeping the business going, possibly as the best or most dynamic salesman (and may actually come in part from having read “Death of a Salesman” at an earlier date, as I did read the 1949 play sometime during this period). He only has one good friend who mourns him. I “float” into a room with concrete walls and floor and see that the man who had been his friend is drinking too much from a bottle of gin and “celebrating” his friend’s birthday while wearing a multicolored cone-shaped cardboard hat (with red “V” or boomerang shapes) and a red tinsel lei. The remains are in a coffin in an adjoining smaller room. The rooms are mostly featureless and appear to be part of some sort of large basement, but possibly in the commercial building where he died. (It is possible he may be cremated in the business’s furnace, but I am not certain.)

The man (name unknown, I only know the dead man’s name is Harry - the other man could be Willy) goes into the smaller room and places a cocktail glass of gin on the coffin and takes one final drink from his cocktail glass and slowly and mournfully sings (to Harry) “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you…” (obviously not expecting an “answer” of any kind, as he is the only one there and the other man has died the day or so before).

However, a clear voice comes from the closed coffin and it is supposedly Harry (even though he has actually died) also mournfully singing…“Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me…”

This is the last scene and it seems to have some sort of science-fiction-like theme as well as the avant-garde movie essence.

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Night of August 24, 1976. Tuesday. (Though more correctly in regards to dreaming, very early “morning” of the 25th, and being the beginning of Wednesday).



I am somewhat uneasy and restless. In real life, I had been in the hospital for the operation on my right hand to commence the next day - to remove the bizarre and unexplainable same-sized cysts (of which there were four “complete” and more growing) perfectly lined up on the left side of my thumb and partly down my wrist, which appeared to have fetal-like design of all things, like one of those “twins” you hear about in some ways, but not usually later in life (and there was a later rather ridiculous rumor in school that it was from a snake, as in snake “babies” - a story that I was not the originator of in any way). I was fifteen at the time and ready to enter tenth grade within a short time. After midnight, in real life, my mother being allowed to stay at my bedside as I was falling asleep (though she finally went home for rest the night after my operation), the young black nurse came in (someone I knew when much younger), shined a flashlight on my face, and asked if I wanted sleeping pills (though I was actually almost asleep at that point). She then directed the flashlight up at the television (which was quite high up on the wall) where “Night of the Lepus” was showing. “Watchin’ TEE vee,” she says with a hint of disapproval and left the room for the night (her flashlight oddly “enhancing” the scene of a seeming spotlight of the “herd” of giant rabbits).

In the eventual dream, there is a cobra under the operating table which does not really get to me, though I have to remember to keep my arm up and on the table (though there is a concern of what will happen when the large dose of anesthesia takes effect). Nothing eventful happens other than the “return” of a common dream element when I was much younger, this being an unusual “mist” (very cloud-like) that rolls along from about six to twelve inches from any implied floor or ground. There are also various distorted and apparently angry faces of unusual colors (with mostly passive responses on my part, as I seem mostly disembodied) and flashbacks to earlier childhood dreams. There are other cobra dreams related to this, the earliest being “Cobra in the Hayloft” from August 18, 1966, seemingly my first deliberate attempt to create a so-called tulpa (but fully in-dream). On September 9th (when I was supposed to be starting school by then but did not due to overwhelming pain as the feeling was eventually coming back in that area of my hand), I had the “Hello Harry” dream where the mist seemed to be engulfing a very large portion of my subconscious mind. This dream centered around a man who had died, but sang “Happy Birthday” to himself in answer to the one friend near his coffin in a basement and one-man party scenario. (This is not really that significant as my birthday is actually on December 20). Prior to the fall into the mist, I had been bitten on the thumb by a cobra in an extremely vivid dream of being in my backyard. The only good thing about this time was the “mystery girl” comforting me, which somehow reminded me of a scenario from the movie “Cat Ballou” (last seen on September 13, 1974, prior to the last time I saw “Night of the Lepus” shortly after - the other two movies airing being “Dark Passage” on another channel and “The Strange Door” on another).

This real-life event of my first ever longer hospital stay directly and precisely confirmed several precognitive dreams from early childhood, including one recurring one with both the enlarged right thumb and even the detail of a giant rabbit (relative to “Night of the Lepus” on television). This confirms the idea of physical precognition or foreshadowing of one’s own internal nature being somehow available (at least subconsciously) several years prior (though that certainly does not explain how I knew of the movie before it was even made, which happened fairly often when young).

Amusingly, the night before, the movie title shown at the same time at night (11:30) and same network (CBS) was “Doctor, You’ve Got to Be Kidding”. If that were not amusing enough, again, the previous time I had actually watched “Night of the Lepus” was on Friday the 13th in September of 1974. My wife’s birthday was Friday the 13th in September of 1968. This was long before I knew she was a real person (which came in 1991).

Night of September 25, 1970. Friday.



There is apparently a dangerous mostly black (with rust-colored nuances) dog (possibly with rabies) loose in the area, supposedly a Mastiff (or part Mastiff) wandering around in Cubitis, said to only make an appearance and be a threat when there is fog in the area (curiously enough, “something in the fog” is a recurring aspect in some of my more “threatening” dreams - starting with a giant caterpillar “prototype” - or “dogerpillar” - as a toddler). It may be that the atypical or “special” fog itself is making the dog dangerous. (Oddly, as a child, I did not even make the rhyming play of “dog in the fog” as I can clearly see now.) However, it is not certain if he is able to bite or not.

In-dream, I am still somewhat confused over the nature of the “Hounds of the Baskervilles” movie. (It was written as “Hounds” in the newspaper relative to the 1959 Peter Cushing movie, but I have also seen it as “Hound”, which seems to be the valid title according to IMDb.) I am wondering if the “wild” dog is in a muzzle and therefore not as dangerous as implied. I see him through a fog (in the middle of the backyard from the carport), just on the perimeter of the mist, but I run into the house (without taking the time to verify if there is a muzzle or not - as the weight upon me would also be problematic) with a sense my legs will be vulnerable and “feet left behind” (implying I may still live without my feet).

This seems to have been an earlier “prototype” dream for the more vivid and detailed “Dogpile” dream from over a year later, but I had many similar dreams, including lucid ones with this theme. As I have written before, most dogs in dreams of this time period (mostly 1970-1973) were either black or rust-colored and an in-dream threat. There seemed to be no real-life association with this theme.