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Morning of May 31, 2017. Wednesday.



In my dream, there is firstly the common water induction factor (which has been relevant to at least one to two dreams per night for over fifty years), and it is rendered as the ocean this time (deeper sleep and a potential link to the collective unconscious). There is the typical ambiguity of being indoors and outdoors at the same time. My dream progresses from my first location of a computer setup and bed to a more relevant (to real life) waking symbolism setting where I am then in our present home (though still with a sense of being outside even though I see Zsuzsanna sleeping in our bed in one of the last scenes).

I seem to be part of an Internet group with three people of whom I do not know at all and had never met; two males and a female. Our virtual presence on the webpage is shown as a small paragraph (of about five or six lines) with a current photograph in the upper left corner of each person’s profile paragraph and present status. We talk to each other with microphones, though we sometimes type messages.

Our talk is mainly about a large plesiosaurus that is not far from the ocean’s surface in the area near the beach. It does not pose a threat of any kind regardless of its cliché “sea serpent” associations. The unknown female seems to talk the most over time. Eventually, there is mention of how the creature had apparently been bumped by another animal underneath. This event does not seem problematic but dominates the last part of the online conversation. Oddly, one male talks about the event as if it was he that had been nudged.

Eventually, it seems as if the others are offline and probably sleeping. I somehow see a scene where a very large dolphin nudges the stomach of the plesiosaurus (while swimming in the same direction just under it, implied to be to my left), though this is seemingly not an aggressive act. I notice that the dolphin is of a very unusual mottled pattern, mainly of purple and pink, almost reminiscent of a bed sheet pattern (though I do not make this association while in my dream).

I decide to contact one of the others to report this. I wake up one of the males (by calling him with a telephone) and he seems somewhat confused and annoyed in being woken up at first. I describe how the dolphin is a very large but likely unknown species. Eventually, the scene shifts to where we are physically with each other in an area that seems modeled after the southeast grounds of my middle school (where I was last present in 1975). I mostly sit on the ground while the other three walk around, though one male talks to me (while standing) for a short time. Somehow, the location still seems the same on one level.

The unknown female dominates the rest of the waking transition, which becomes distorted and illogically sustained. She tries to tell me something that I have to ask her to keep repeating (at least six times) as I do not catch the last word (a very common dream event). I think she might be saying the word “blue” at the end of the question but I am not sure. The phrase itself seems mostly like gibberish. Eventually, I just say “yes” and tell her my last name, which may not be what she was talking about (though my surname does at least rhyme with “blue”).

I go over to where Zsuzsanna is sleeping (the indoor dynamics becoming a little more dominant than the sense of being outside) and there is the essence of where we live now in reality. She does not wake. (This is a typical dream setting shift where I walk from the grounds of my middle school in America to within our present home in Australia without my dream self regarding the impossibility at all. Still, this linear symbolism validates that dreaming of a school is often an attempt by the limited temporary dream self to get back to current whole conscious self identity, which is then indirectly shown as still being asleep in reality, though my dream self only sees Zsuzsanna in this case.)

I see that I have the journal of the unknown female. It is somewhat like a mix of dream journal and real-life diary. It also has a number of scribbles and references to pills (and apparently illegal drugs), something about “taking the cruel pill” and odd illogical forms of supposed art, which is mainly just random lines, partial sketches, and random words. The fact that this unknown female is so undesirable in the last stage of the waking symbolism is a subliminal incentive for me to wake at this time and join my real partner in life. (In fact, the personified preconscious as such is often very annoying and imposing, but this depends on which part of the sleep cycle I am in, and time and time again, for over fifty years, is precisely linked to my circadian rhythms dynamics.)

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Despite the unusual nature of this dream in regard to the sea serpent, it is a very typical lifelong-established combination of dream signs (residual subliminal memories of having fallen asleep) and dream state induction symbolism and waking symbolism. The bumping of the dolphin against the plesiosaurus is a symbolic carryover of a recent dream where I drove a car between two vehicles in the street and nudged the streetcar (so that it rolled to the intersection without a conductor). This is symbolic of nudging Zsuzsanna in my sleep in real time. (In fact, many dreams have dynamics based on current environmental factors, something that people who believe in “dream interpretation” in the popular but naïve usage of the term completely ignore.)

Projecting (and expanding) my imaginary dream body as a streetcar in one dream (without my conscious self identity being able to link to it to “drive” - depending on the stage of sleep) and as a plesiosaurus in this one, may be purely incidental, though a plesiosaurus, when passive, is symbolic of being in a more relaxed sleep while a streetcar rolling to an intersection is waking symbolism (though also analogous to rolling over in my sleep without being fully awake). (The plesiosaurus symbolism as such has occurred since around age six.)

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Morning of July 8, 1973. Sunday.



[I willfully enter into what I consider may be my last dream of the morning. I maintain my lucidity, perhaps only losing a thread or two of my conscious self identity. The essence of my neural activity becomes the more tangible form of water, as it most often does, and the water expands to form a lake. I welcome the presence of female genitalia, and it is rendered as a canoe, which floats on the shimmering lake in mid-afternoon].

I look upon Lake Katherine. The area seems more rural than it is in reality. I gaze upon the beauty of the reflected trees, downwardly mirrored in the lake’s surface around its perimeter.

[I desire female company and physical pleasure, so I choose to become fully integrated within my dream self’s imaginary body.]

I am sitting in the canoe facing my dark-haired green-eyed gypsy dream girl. We begin to become intimate. My sense of touch is augmented. We mostly kiss for several minutes.

[I am enjoying my dream very much. My dream girl is passive and welcoming. I begin to become distracted by some sort of ambiance that extends beyond my will. It sounds somewhat like hissing.]

A large green sea serpent rises up out of the water on my left in somewhat of an “S” shape, hissing at us. It is not that close to the canoe but displaying at least ten feet of its body from the lake’s surface to the top of its head.

[The preconscious is warning me that I need to leave my dream even though I do not want to. Still, the preconscious’s lake denizen is rather silly-looking, modeled after the one in the Carl Barks “No Such Varmint” Donald Duck comic book story, though slightly more realistic and menacing, though I do not feel that threatened because I am lucid.]

I want to be more intimate with my dream girl but upon touching her, the tangibility of her forearm seems to dissipate. My dream world starts to dissolve.

[I float horizontally and upwards, my back downwards, in the higher mental realm of dissipating liminal space, annoyed by my dream being over. I can still hear the hissing to my left. The hissing turns out to be the real sound of the garden hose as my mother is watering the front flower box in real life at this time, some of the water spraying onto my closed jalousie windows.]

My spoiled dream is of no consequence. I married my dark-haired green-eyed gypsy dream girl on April 9, 1994.