Morning of October 18, 2013. Friday. There was a longer series of dreams with a lot of facets, but I will try to summarize one without taking up several pages in detail and isolating the clearer, stronger events of this particular longer one and work with another three or four in a different entry. In one setting, we are living in a composite of the house we lived in in Wavell Heights (Queensland, Australia) and my old Cubitis home (Florida, USA). It is probably about ninety percent Wavell Heights, including most of the outside and yard area, and about ten percent Cubitis, although the directional orientation I will use is relevant to the feeling of Cubitis. In one scene, I am lying on the floor on my side near the entrance of the kitchenette, my head to the south and my body facing west. My wife is at a table close by and working on a computer. In real life, even when younger, I spent time lying on the floor to stay cooler, especially in this extreme heat. The kitchenette is different in that the south wall seems to be part of a corner of the house and has a smaller jalousie window above the sink and between the taller wooden wall cupboards (which in real life was just a solid wall on the opposite side of the bathroom). A neighbor (unknown dark-haired young woman of about twenty-five) moves one of the middle jalousie panes thus opening the entire window to peer through. Apparently she thinks we are intruders and although I think of calling the police, we do not, as the other person (who seems to be with someone) is also planning to call the police. In another scene, outside, there is a very large white opossum that is able to jump from a tree farther back in the backyard (near the implied alley) all the way to the treeline in front, on the boulevard, in one leap. There are a total of about four fairly active opossums. This amazing act is mentioned by a few people including myself and it recurs a few times, including with a couple of the others. However, another person a few houses down plans to call the police and firefighters (to get them down from the trees) because of the “dangerous wildlife” in the area, which is also supposedly a disruption to urban life. There is then a false-memory-flashback of a newspaper story of how a baby opossum (now the largest and the one that does the biggest jumps) was taken care of by a few people on a farm and raised by humans (which clarifies the idea that it should never be harmed or taken elsewhere, as it is “now” almost like a well-known city mascot or living symbol) - although my wife had raised an Australian opossum in real life prior to our first contact. This had a precognitive layer, as my wife just now told me of a local fire on a pig farm and the news announcer saying that the workers had to have counseling - as they raised the pigs from babies and most or all of the pigs were killed in the fire (although one account said that one had to be shot). Opossum is usually said to mean “smiling white pig”. This seems quite strange to both of us - as the pigs are killed for food anyway - so it was not like they were solely “pets”. In another unusual scene, a large Florida black panther is in the area (the last time I saw one in real life was years ago in the swamp where my family lived, but my wife had seen one much more recently here at a show in Australia - and still has a poster from the event), which also prompts someone (possibly the same one who called about the opossums) to call the police and firefighters (so that is three potential police calls thus far in my dream - although you would think there would be an “animal control” team by that point). However, in a highly unlikely confrontation, a small black domestic cat comes up face to face with the panther and hisses and the panther seems terrified and runs away, leaving the neighborhood. In another scene, some neighbors are at our house, mostly men as they would be dressed on a camping or hunting trip, about five or six other people - all of them Caucasian and Australian (and likely of Brisbane). We seem to be planning to go on a longer camping trip or perhaps just a fishing trip. One (unknown) man of about forty is patronizing me (to the point of insult, it seems) by first seeming to be miming the act of fishing - with casting and reeling motions and such - which apparently becomes an act of miming the swinging or throwing of a tomahawk and he even uses the word “tomahawk” as he finishes his routine. I am annoyed but do not seem to show it. (In real life as a boy I had a toy tomahawk with a wooden handle and a rubber blade, but never owned a real one.) We are in different areas of the room about six feet apart, both of us sitting in smaller wooden chairs. Most of the other men in the room are oriented in a sparse arrangement, some sitting on the vinyl couch, one or two standing. The “gag” seems to be that someone such as myself would throw a tomahawk at the fish to get it rather than catch it and reel it in “normally” as a “proper” fisherman (read westerner). Later on, there seems to be two monophonic country songs playing at the same time (on an older tape deck which I no longer have), of a style I do not particularly care for. Each track is on one of the two stereo channels. This is actually a trick which an older brother used in real life to archive a larger number of monophonic recordings onto CDs for different relatives in different parts of the world - several done by myself as a boy, some being with my father. In my dream, instead of a balance dial, there are two volume dials - one for each stereo channel, left and right, a fictional feature on each side of the tape deck (which is otherwise only slightly different to the real-life one). I turn one dial down to zero, but the music still seems mixed up with two songs playing, so I mess around adjusting each dial in different ways, trying to work out levels (sixty/forty, etc.) wondering if it is mid-side encoded rather than stereo, which would require a very precise value for each dial to only bring out the one monophonic recording, or so it seems in my dream. I experiment a bit, getting a bit annoyed by the music. Eventually it seems there is only one song playing (a less annoying one by George Strait - “Love is Everything” I think), but there is still a mono copy in each channel which are of slightly different microsecond timing so that there is a figure-eight phasing, causing the sound to seem to move about and swirl in different areas of the room. At that point, my dream becomes less focused. There is yet another person mentioning something about calling the police (fourth instance) related to teenagers loitering near other people’s houses and a litter of puppies and dogs causing noise and irritation (perhaps not the same person who called about the “dangerous wildlife”, not sure as there are a few people walking about in the area, some going on a picnic or school event, I think). There is one final scene where I (relative to the expectations of a few other people regarding a fight at another location in addition to all the other calls - thus the fifth instance of police-calling in one dream) seem to be waiting for the police, but they never arrive. This seems to be some sort of well-known fact. If the police get calls related to more than one complaint or event in a particular area - it is far beyond their ability to deal with and so they ignore it completely, being only able to mentally and physically focus on one issue in a particular time period in the region. Meanwhile, I get the sense that they (two officers in a police car) are fairly far away waiting for a call in which only one issue is manifesting over a longer time period…
Morning of October 25, 2004. Monday. I am on some sort of outing that may relate to shopping but it is a bit uncertain. A couple of the buildings are too narrow to be significant of very much realism though I do not become lucid at any point, and there actually are buildings this narrow, apparently (though I have never seen such in real life). This may be a play on my association with dealing with “narrow-minded” people throughout most of my life. The only other features in my dream are related to clocks and pianos, with the emphasis on pianos. There is something “wrong” about the mostly upright pianos in the three buildings I explore though I cannot determine what it is. I am not sure if I am actually going to buy one (and I am not sure how I would get it home either, or even if I have any money - I may have only about twenty dollars in my wallet). It may be that the pianos do not have “guts” (all the internal parts as in real life) so thus are mostly hollow. This is possibly related to “fake” electronic organs where instead of a larger amplifier at the front, it is a rather small cheap speaker hidden behind the cloth covering the larger stand where there would otherwise be a bigger speaker and more circuits. (At one time, in the mid-1970s, these were about one-tenth the price of a real electronic chord organ - or about a hundred dollars in comparison to a thousand or more). Some of the upright pianos (there are no electric pianos in the stores) seem more like an atypical hybrid and resemble a miniature version of a grand piano but not as long front to back. The thing is to find the type that opossums live in rather than rats. A single opossum (usually just lounging in one) would be in a good one (to buy) though four rats (running around randomly inside as a person plays) would live in ones that do not play so well (going out-of-tune more quickly as well as having “loose” keys). This could be a play on “rat race” or even the “rat race being out of tune”. Then again, the whole region seems empty of both people and animals, even birds. I am not even sure why the clocks are necessary, especially more than one, or perhaps each piano comes with a “matching” wall clock. As no one else is around, it dawns on me that there is not much point in even shopping there. The entire business district seems closed.
Night of December 16, 1966. Friday. This was recurring from when I was very young. I believe there were a few versions that occurred in the middle of the night. In one version, in one journal, I had decided that the opossums may actually be small foxes (even though that really was not very reasonable), so I wrote a poem called “Foxes in the Trees” in real life, yet later decided that I should not change things, so I came to have an internal self-fulfilling symbolism of the opossums being the “princes of the trees”. Being watched by mysterious animal eyes is probably a universal theme in children’s dreams regardless of race or culture, but I am only guessing that based on my own early experiences in dream work. It is late at night and I am in the woods, I assume in an area of Chipmunk Coulee farther from where I had actually lived in that region. I am near a tree in which there are a few opossums on the branches but all I can see are their eerie glowing eyes (and in later versions, the lighter heart-shaped areas of their faces). It seems these opossums are some sort of guardians that are supposed to follow me and protect me in some unknown way. I pretend not to notice them because I do not want to cause trouble or perhaps draw attention to myself in this unfamiliar landscape. In the distance is a long, winding path of an unusual (almost a sequence of Z-shaped turns) path where some areas seem to be dead forests. The moon (or sun in a rather “bad” dream rendering?) seems to be a black shadow hanging in the sky rather than the “real” moon or sun. This unusual area seems to be very similar to my “Empty Boots” dream found here: http://blue-opossum.tumblr.com/post/...75/empty-boots
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