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Morning of October 13, 2018. Saturday.

Dream #: 18,926-01. Optimized 3 minute read.




Part of my dream’s initial setting has the essence of the Cubitis house’s kitchenette (1978) though its placement in the surroundings is incorrect. It features a 1990s washing machine instead of a stove. (My mother only ever had a wringer washing machine with a cylindrical body when we lived there.) There is an open space to the right (when facing west) leading to a big bedroom with other rooms beyond.

My dream self mistakenly thinks it is Marilyn’s house. (Marilyn is a half-sister on my mother’s side who died in 2014. My dream self does not recall she died, and she appears here as in the late 1960s.)

The washing machine inexplicably slides across the floor, turning at an angle. An invisible force drags it to the bedroom. It stops near a door on the opposite side, near the bed. I find this event fascinating, so I tell Marilyn about it.

I discover the ghost of an unknown boy hiding under the bed after Marilyn informs me. I perceive him as sitting in a Padmasana position (Lotus Pose), although there would not be enough vertical space in a real-world scene.

I find a small radio station control room in the house, though it is mainly featureless. I talk to Jim through its closed window. (Jim is a half-brother on my mother’s side who died in 2008. My dream self does not recall he died. He appears as he did in the 1970s.) He tells me I should never talk about the ghost to anyone outside our home, but I disagree with him, so he seems sad.

I intensely focus on my marriage to Zsuzsanna and our miraculous “coincidences.” I talk about them as if they resulted from a divine force above us. Astoundingly, despite this, my dream self does not attain waking-life recognition.

I return to the bedroom. Marilyn informs me that the ghost boy’s parents, also ghosts, had been hiding in the wardrobe for a long time.

I open the wardrobe to investigate but mainly focus on an unfamiliar stocky man in glasses. He wears a suit. His right eye seems lower than it should be, angled downward. It is also a shorter distance from his left eye than what would be natural.

I hold out my right hand for him to shake. I am sincere and cheerful. He willingly shakes my hand. I place my left hand over his right hand, and tactility increases. I am confident and peaceful as I acknowledge him with a sincere smile as if I am happy to meet him.

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Intelligently understanding dreams:

In actuality, I am asleep in bed, vaguely contemplating mobility because of my status of REM atonia. That is why I imagine a force dragging something to the bed. It is a washing machine to remind me I am undressed while sleeping.

Shaking hands compensates for becoming intuitively aware of somatosensory phasing caused by variations in REM atonia (paralysis while sleeping, which occurs through all dreams throughout the sleep cycle in healthy people). It also acknowledges the waking transition - unification with my real-life awareness. This act, and hugging, are the two fundamental forms of this intuitive process, depending on my willingness to wake up during a specific part of my dream.

The unusual downward eye is an intuitive association with having my eyes closed during sleep. The “boy ghost” in the Lotus Pose under the bed is also a dream state signifier.

There are two main reasons for ghosts appearing in my dreams.

One reason is instinctual awareness of my dream self being an incomplete form of my true conscious self. That includes my lack of real-world mobility corresponding with the false physicality (vestibular-motor phasing) of dreaming. Even if I walk around in a dream, I am not walking with my body in a real-world event. This type of intuitive awareness integrates into various dream narratives. Unlike others, I rarely fear protoconsciousness, either in hypnopompic sleep paralysis or in the dream state proper (and its natural REM paralysis).

The other reason is my deliberate summoning of ghosts, monsters, or haunting scenarios to bring about ASMR, which I learned to do in childhood. However, ASMR, predominant in the bliss of hypnopompic paralysis, is not usually as present in the dream state.

At high levels of lucid dreaming, I have less control of a dream because of conscious bias (excluding hypnagogic and post-hypnagogic dreaming experiences). I know that ghosts, movie monsters, aliens, etc. - do not exist, so summoning such content is futile.

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11.01.2016

I Live To Serve Her & Flirting With a Girl (DILD)

NON-DREAM DREAM LUCID

I’m on my way to open at work, and the parking lot, if it’s even considered one, is so grandiose that getting from point A to B would seem to take a long time, but it didn’t. I see a large gray stoned wall that looks like stone doors of some sort. I’m wearing some gray dress pants, and a gray shirt as well, though, before the encounter with a certain dream character, it felt as if I was wearing a green shirt instead.

I’m in a fairly active mood, and feel so energetic that it slowly bleeds into how I interact with people. The first entity within my peripheral vision was an Asian male that’s probably in his early 20s as me that looks like a parking lot attendant I know. I’m not fixated so much on him other than the fact that he’s wearing a bright, lime shirt, and black shorts.

He’s just strolling around, I guess, and as I’m moving forward, I encounter a blonde female with a heavy foreign accent. She’s wearing a white vest, and some black pants/shorts. She has her hair tied up in a ponytail, and as I get closer to her, she professes to me, in a manner of jest:

“You should live to serve me,” and smiles. As I’m trying to process the words, I was looking at her reaction to really see if she’s just joking around

But I couldn’t shake off the feeling that there was something between the lines of said profession.

I basically shrug it off while retaining a transient smile, and go inside the doors that start to open up. It’s this spacious garage with all sorts of stuff that I didn’t bother paying attention to. The two main colors that came to mind were brown mixed with a bit of dark violet, and this light turquoise color that has this chalky overtone to it.

I see two girls that I’ll nickname Bail and ArtGirl10; the former of darker skin complexion, and the other that’s lighter. I fixate on the latter, and she says I look different physically. For some odd reason, I get a surge of motivation to start flirting with her physically. I go up to her, smile, and take my finger to rub her nose.

She giggles for a bit and asks where I got the shirt, because apparently, it costs like $70 bucks online. I have an “uhh” moment, and we part ways after that. Meanwhile, Bail says, “3 XXX,” and I feel I’m shifted into another dream.

_________________________

11.01.2016

Shaking Hands to Break Gregarious Tension (DILD)

NON-DREAM DREAM LUCID

I’m inside of a house that is dark brown mostly pertaining to the walls and ceiling, and golden for the flooring; a little nuances of brown blotched in as well. I can see that there’s this indirect gregarious tension with my presence in here, but the individuals remain quiet while trying to find something to distract themselves from making it explicitly awkward.

To dissipate the tension, I took the decency to start shaking hands with everyone, and they all naturally complied. I reached to the point where I interacted with an obese female that’s wearing this black dress with some dark pink flowers surrounding it along with a fancy black hat as if it was 1930s style, or something.

I started to hug her for a bit, and as I’m trying to release my grasp, I awkwardly touched the gap towards her armpit, and eventually to the muscles that would connect to the top left region of her breasts. I try to pretend that I didn’t notice this, and see seems fairly nonchalant in this being done. I turn around immediately, and proceeded to move forward, and then to the right to go into another room.

The entrance to the room that I have to turn to the right once more involves this dark red drapery that hangs to the sides like “Y Y.” I see there are some chairs that are dark red for the base and back rest, and bordered with golden colors. I go inside to immediately sit, and just reveled in being alone while feeling I’m waiting for someone, or some event to take place.

Morning of July 15, 2015. Wednesday.



I am in a building in a public place with Zsuzsanna (in an unknown town and unfamiliar location), possibly a train station, sitting on what is somewhat like a long wooden chest though meant to be a bench near the center of the room. She is on my left. Along comes Werner Klemperer (March 22, 1920-December 6, 2000, as from “Hogan’s Heroes”, though in a formal suit rather than in costume), seeming cheerful and cordial as he sits down on Zsuzsanna’s left.

I am not surprised at all for some reason. I move forward (not standing up) and with some difficulty, try to shake his right hand with my left hand, which results in a bit of difficulty. He does not seem sure how to hold his arm in this situation and for a moment, it seems as if our hands are reversed or at least turned sideways (for example, the back of my hand facing out and forward, thumb down). Even though it is quite awkward making at least three attempts at a “normal” handshake, there is no residual embarrassment. He moves out farther but does not stand either.

Zsuzsanna and I talk to him a bit about what he thinks of the “Lost” television series (which began in 2004), which makes no logical (or interpretable) sense due to him having died before the first episode ever aired. This seems vaguely familiar in conscious afterthought as if there was a very similar scenario in a dream of a few years ago (regarding two or three large televisions being in the same setting). However, this is one of only a few dreams that ever had him as a character, the last one possibly being in 1978 (though I did not do a full scan as it takes some time) - though all other instances regard his Colonel Klink character and persona, I think.

There is not much after this. He does not seem to be too decisive about “Lost” either way. The meeting seems vivid and otherwise realistic for what it is.

In another highly illogical dream scene, I am trying to stop dogs from coming onto the porch in an alternate version of our last home on Barolin Street, though the windows are actually mostly closed anyway (and are sash windows rather than the jalousie windows as they were in reality). I am forcefully slapping a pillow against the closed window, to make a particular dog back away from it. There are at least three dogs though which are not that aggressive. One does grab the end of the pillowcase in his mouth for a short time, as the window then seems about one inch open. Nothing that stressful ensues and no dogs get in.