Morning of May 28, 2018. Monday. I am in a setting that seems partly modeled after the Cubitis living room (last seen in real life in 1978). There is a computer set up in the southwest corner. It seems to be late morning. I am looking at pages in a newspaper. There is a short article (on the upper right of a page) of about three paragraphs written by someone with my surname. Their first name is Aueda (which is unfamiliar, though which is actually a distortion of my last name, with an extra “A” and no “L”, though my dream self does not realize this). I notice the name Tecumseh written a few times throughout the article. The person lives in New York. I tell Zsuzsanna that I am surprised Aueda is still alive, though this is by way of false memory, as I have no relative by this name as far as I know. In fact, I am uncertain of whether the person is male or female. Zsuzsanna seems to know it is a female even though she had not known of her previously. “I did not know they were still alive,” I say, followed by, “They were born in the 1800s”. (This turns out to actually be 1907, but only assuming my dream self is aware it is 2018, though that is unlikely, as my non-lucid dream self typically has no idea what year it is or any viable temporality.) I use the computer for an Internet search. It turns out there is a very large and detailed photograph of her at her rural home in New York. I read that she is 111 years old. In the photograph, presumably recent, she is standing and facing the foreground. I report her age several times to a few different people who show up. I am amazed by her age. The photograph seems like it might be of Grace McDaniels (the “Mule-Faced Woman”), though my dream self does not consider this. Additionally, the surreal nature of her face is far more extreme than Grace’s. She appears to have a large pointed chin covered with small bumps as well as an additional section below her mouth of a different rough texture. She also seems to have large elk antlers growing from her head. (This was likely influenced by a strange movie called “Marker” that Zsuzsanna and I saw the other night, though also seems influenced by the character of Hela from “Thor: Ragnarok”, which we also saw recently, though again, the horns were like elk antlers.) I look to the left and see a man, who I first think is her husband, lying on a couch inside their house. (This is illogical, as the main image of Aueda was taken outside, but the photograph implies the walls closest the camera are not present in the image, but are in “reality”.) Looking around, I see more detail, including a barn and a woodpile to the right. An unknown male is suddenly standing behind me on my left asking me if he can use my computer to look up a different name, which is Helen Crowley. I do not feel comfortable with him using my computer, as the keyboard is difficult to use. (It is smaller than a real one, but my dream self does not consider this.) I consider that some of the keys can easily fall out or get jammed. I try to tell him about the difficulty of use (though I also tell him how I am familiar with how it us used as such) and that I do not want him using it, but he gets annoyed and walks away for a short time. Finally, I let him use it, though after typing in the name myself, while I get up and walk away from the area. (Helen is Zsuzsanna’s mother’s name as on at least one official document, though she uses Helene but pronounces it as Helena. Additionally, Crowley was a “King of Hell” character from “Supernatural”, so my dream is illogically mixing a lot of random details together, which is what dreams often do.) Before I get up, I notice all the people in the photograph are now walking toward a storm cellar while looking back at the viewer now and then (Aueda being the last one in the line). The image is now actually moving like a film. Looking at the floor a little later, I see otherwise clear water with pink areas, much of it flowing out from under a table, and I wonder if someone had been ill, possibly bleeding, or had just spilled something. Marilyn (older deceased half-sister on my mother’s side) is present, though seems as she was in the 1960s. She says she had contacted someone about fixing the leak. She is standing against a table with her arms folded, firstly facing me, though I walk about looking at the pink water. As I look at her in profile as she faces left, I notice how her body and posture is impossibly distorted but I do not catch on that I am dreaming. I go into other rooms (which are unfamiliar). I see and clearly hear water flowing everywhere, most of it clear and no longer with pink areas. I see a large laundry basket full of clothes somehow filling up with water nearly to the top (which is impossible as it would just flow out through the large square holes in reality). I also see that the otherwise shallow flooding is going into a room where I supposedly have a number of my books and journals. I walk back where Marilyn is and loudly say, “Everything I have is being destroyed. Why didn’t you tell me about this earlier?” Soon however, I realize I am dreaming and that I was liminally trying to return to deeper sleep (as water is my most common autosymbolism of dream state induction and reinduction, partly based, biologically, on the first months of life spent in the waters of the womb - in fact, I had been reading a comic book yesterday where a woman is pregnant and her waters break). I feel relief in waking up (though in reality, we did have a flood and rain inside the house when the roof was torn off last November and a lot of books were ruined, though not any of our journals).
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