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Morning of September 22, 2016. Thursday.



It seems to be late at night and I am walking with Zsuzsanna in an unfamiliar small town. Somehow I get distracted and find myself on my own in an area vaguely similar in some ways to an area near a church in Bundaberg (though I do not consider my location or have any concern about being in an unknown place). Even though I am not lucid I try to focus on a large stone water fountain as if I am subliminally aware of the nature of water induction to increase the depth and clarity of the dream state.

An unfamiliar priest approaches and seems to want me to move on or is there to tell me what to do as perhaps he does not like me being here so late at night. He tries to impress me by causing a moonbeam to create a glowing circle on the surface of the water. In a way, it seems rather eerie to me, though I vaguely recall it as a circadian rhythms factor (again, even though I am not lucid) and relative to moon or moonlight induction.

“So what,” I say. “I can make the sun come out in the middle of the night.” (I say this without realizing that the sun represents consciousness or the conscious identity within the dream state and thus I am actually talking about lucid dreaming without being lucid.) The area that the priest and I are standing now seems to be a storefront. I move my hands with a level of mental certainty and expectation that the sun will rise at my command, though again not being lucid at this point. Instead, a small sunbeam reaches my feet. At least I accomplished something based on my claim.

I decide to turn around and use whatever sunlight there is to mock the priest by making various shadow forms on the outer wall of the store. A circle of light (almost like a spotlight on a stage) of about a foot and a half in diameter appears on the concrete block outer wall. I lift my left hand up and make an incredibly realistic monkey shadow (after a few false starts with rabbit and dog heads), complete with legs, arms, and a tail, and moving about like a real monkey, almost as if suspended on its own. “Chee-chee-chee-chee,” I utter, happily making my version of a monkey sound. The priest seems to feel insulted as well as outdone by my miraculous abilities and thus he walks off. Even though I am still not at the lucid stage, shadow play is fairly common in certain vivid lucid dream types. Typically, the shadow symbolizes the dream self as “casting” conscious self identity into the dream state (at least when it is a human “duplicate” of the dream self though here, my dawning consciousness is apparently very playful), though this situation does not yet trigger my lucidity.

As I walk, the sun finally rises fully at my subtle command and with no “glitches”. As a result, my consciousness becomes more fully integrated into the dream state in a lucid sense, though not quite apex lucidity (full automatic control with enhanced senses and full body awareness even with full weight and momentum discernment). Just as I turn left around a corner I am at full conscious clarity, which I immediately find very thrilling. I notice a young version of Zsuzsanna (probably as she was a few years before we first wrote) standing on a garden wall of about four feet high, though I do not question this oddity. Several others (all unfamiliar) are standing around, possibly waiting for a bus. Zsuzsanna may also be waiting for the bus even being up on this wall. I hover and move up to stand on the wall with her. She does not seem to recognize me yet and takes on the essence of the preconscious personification.

“This is my dream, so we will get together and have some fun,” I boldly state. “I don’t care about these other people standing around.” She seems to slowly agree or at least lets me hug and kiss her passionately for a long time. Becoming more and more stimulated I indulge in various sensual events (the sense of touch augmented), though meanwhile, three times, for no particular reason, I decide to shoot large masses of spiderweb out of my right hand. One car becomes fully covered in my web, the imagery of which I find amusing when I look back. A couple people are swept back and stuck onto buildings but are not harmed.

Eventually, I notice a large unusual-looking airplane flying in the sky (from right to left). Its wings are up and back almost like a butterfly form and I feel a sense of beauty. Curiously, I do not mentally register it as the “return flight” waking transition symbol even though I have experienced the same metaphor thousands of times in various dream types (though not in the majority of lucid dreams). I notice a very unusual bookshelf-like structure on the other side of town and which seems to be atop a mountain. I focus on this. Although it vaguely reminds me of “Hollywood Squares”, the platforms (or seating areas) are at different levels. There are at least nine demigods in yellow Tibetan monk robes sitting and standing within the structure. I assume they are perhaps thirty feet tall or more. The visible forward edges of the skewed “Hollywood Squares” structure are mostly cream-colored, orange, and yellow. The demigods begin singing to Zsuzsanna and me very loudly and with love and happiness. The music is very clear and rhythmic and very enjoyable (though of an unfamiliar melody which I may record at a future date). They are singing something about tilling and gardening, something like, “In the morning when you wake up, till the soil with love…” and another phrase with “tilling” in it and something about “the next morning you will find”. It goes on for several minutes and as I hold Zsuzsanna, I slip into a less vivid and non-lucid false awakening as the airplane reaches the midpoint of my perspective, over the seemingly divine structure. (Of course, this structure symbolizes the sunrise and waking as non-lucid dreams typically do in the last segment - even though I am still semi-lucid - and a cheerful conscious coloring of my day ensues.)

In the false awakening I am with Zsuzsanna sitting on the floor of our present home. Our youngest son is present. He seems to have gathered seven unusual creatures (there are seven in our family). They seem to be some sort of unlikely composite of seashell, caterpillar, beetle, and chrysalis. For some reason, I point out to Zsuzsanna that they are “brains”, although I add to their number (starting with three, I think) as I notice more and more of them (though still a total of seven). Their shells are very complex in coloring, with mostly thin bands and paisley-like patterns of browns, yellows, and cream colors. There are two different shapes, the two largest being somewhat cylindrical and the others like trapezoidal prisms.

I look at a magazine page that Zsuzsanna is looking at. At first, I see the same airplane as from my previous dream, though as a silhouette in a full page sky photograph. As I tell Zsuzsanna about the dream I just had (the most common false awakening scenario for me other than actually attempting to write it out and soon seeing that my writing changes or that I had written nothing), I tell her how this looks just like the airplane from my dream. I find that unusual but when I look again, I see that it is an upside-down helicopter silhouette (a second “return flight” transition that actually represents my false awakening and how one of the first things I ever heard Zsuzsanna say on her first cassette which she mailed to me being “so if it sounds a bit upside-down, it’s from down-under), which I find rather curious - and from here I actually wake.

Morning of October 25, 2015. Sunday.



I am looking down into the throat of an extinct volcano. This will be fun to jump into in my lucid awareness. I cannot see that far down, but do not expect to be harmed in any way. (It is fairly common for me to deliberately jump from a higher place to then soar about in my dreams. It is often very exhilarating, especially when there is such realistic momentum.)

I jump, falling stomach down, arms out, though now see a giant spiderweb across the whole cylindrical area below. My dream goes into an odd state where I am somehow vaguely aware of my real physical body. I am not interested in any giant spider shenanigans.

After a short time, the giant spiderweb I land on, on my stomach, turns out to be a thin sheet of glass that is somehow stopping my fall. It is full of spider-web-like cracks. There is a jagged hole where my legs are dangling down just a bit. I then consider that it may actually be ice, not glass. Eventually, I get a subtle impression that it is cellophane, but that would seem unlikely regarding the fact I remain suspended on whatever I am on for a time.

The scene shifts to where I am crawling through a horizontal cylindrical tunnel that is getting smaller and smaller. Some sort of “living rock salt” feature (as perhaps of an actual surreal “throat” of a larger creature) around the whole tunnel may digest me at one point. Obviously I do not want this. I emerge near the top of a high hill but am “stuck” inside the outer area of the tunnel to just below my chest. Perhaps I will just remain here staring out over a small isolated town for however many years or centuries. I do not feel in danger, just mildly annoyed that I cannot move. I will not call for help; just wait until I am fully “back” in my real body. I rest my chin in my hand, trying to hold back my aggravation and very minor embarrassment (though no other person had been around at any point).

Morning of September 12, 2015. Saturday.



A small beautiful hand is very well-defined and well-rendered. It moves ever so slightly. I appreciate the three-dimensionality of the fingers being slightly closer to me, though I am more in the center of the room at first. There is a sense of deep peace and an essence of bliss. I find myself in a mostly empty semi-dark room with one four-paned window, open only about an inch. There is a gentle rain outside, some of the droplets seeming to fall on large leaves from the sound of it, perhaps elephant ear plants. A young girl in a white hooded dressing gown is webbed to the wall to the left of the window (on my left) but also a bit onto the actual window, mostly facing the wall but slightly turned to the right. The silky, seemingly glowing spider web covers her everywhere, head to toe, and out to the floor a bit, all but her left forearm and hand (though it seems her left shoulder is webbed against the wall). I notice five very small blueberries in the palm of her hand, none touching each other. I do not know who it is, but I assume, because of the ecstatic nature of the imagery and the strange but pleasant sensations in my skin, that it can only be an essence of my wife.

I take one of the blueberries and eat it and the taste is very sweet. I take a second one after due consideration, and the taste is very slightly different but still nice (as with blueberries in real life, as well as strawberries; each and every one always tastes slightly different from every other). Regardless of being “woven” into the intricate spider web, the girl is seemingly alive and very healthy; just in some sort of “hibernation” perhaps. The scene is not gruesome at all; it is amazingly pleasant (and I see no actual spider at any point, though I suspect it is a redback or black widow that somehow made all the intricate webbing). She does not open her eyes at any point. I consider having a third blueberry, but the sensations in my skin are almost “too” pleasurable, so I leave her with three and I casually throw myself backwards into oblivion, falling into various beautiful abstract images and flashes of pure blue.