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Morning of April 2, 2018. Monday.



This dream renders a unique setting as always, a setting that has never featured in this specific way in any previous dream, which is a process to prevent associations with waking life to prevent false memory. In this case, it is primarily the Stadcor Street house in Brisbane (where we have not lived in years). However, upon seeing Zsuzsanna in the final segment, it is like the northeast room of the King Street mansion, where I have not been since the 1990s (and where Zsuzsanna has never been, never having been to America). Even so, it is on the opposite side of where the Stadcor Street bedroom actually was in respect to my dream’s layout. Additionally, my current conscious self identity is only partly extant.

I go to look in the backyard for some reason. It seems to be late morning. I am aware that an unusual wind from the east (my right in my dream’s view) has brought a lot of fine white sand into our backyard. There are many shallow recesses in the yard that contain this fine white sand. I start to consider how unusual a feature this is. I study the area for several minutes. Looking off to my left, just beyond the driveway, I see a low embankment. Two very large turnip plants are growing. Only one has a visible turnip slightly above the ground. I consider if I should pull them up, as they seem fully grown, but I start to focus on the main backyard again.

I notice an area of ground to my left where I realize the whiteness of the sand in that part of the yard may be caused by sunbeams. The area has a silvery glow. Still, the other areas really do contain the unusual fine sand. I decide to go into the house to tell Zsuzsanna about it and to describe the unusual wind that brought the sand into our backyard.

When in the bedroom, I see Zsuzsanna sitting on the bed, facing me as I stand nearby. The closet of the northeast King Street mansion bedroom is visible near the end of the bed (though I am uncertain of whether it is the head or foot of the bed). As I stand, looking into the closet, I notice a very large slug crawling slowly up the wall. Its view is partly blocked for a time. I watch its optical and sensory tentacles move about. I continue to gaze at it as I also pull a snail from my right arm that had somehow also gotten stuck on my shirt sleeve, somehow making the shirt sleeve also stick to me. This event is distorted, as the shirt seems to have been hanging on a hook on the wall, with me not wearing it at the time and yet somehow also wearing it at the same time (a typical dream event that is impossible to resolve in conscious afterthought).

There is a brief offset dream where I go back to the backyard and discover that the ground is now only with normal-colored dirt in the recesses. I am somewhat puzzled. I consider how short a time period that the event must have taken place for no traces of the other sand to remain.

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This is a sustained dream segment that is otherwise based on water lowering waking symbolism from an earlier dream. A short time ago, I happened to read the following: “Dreaming of sand may represent the border between the conscious (beach/land) and unconscious (ocean/water) minds.” I found this astounding because it is extremely rare to read anything about dreams from any public source that has an iota of truth on any level. However, it is more about the liminal space between dream self and conscious self, unrelated to waking life itself.

This dream mostly centers around sleep recognition waking symbolism, which is somewhat of a misnomer as the inference is literal, not symbolic, and based on a subliminal realization that I am actually in bed and asleep. Obviously, the bed confirms this. Additionally, the turnips are autosymbolism for Zsuzsanna and I sleeping. Additionally, the snail and the slug are associated with moving slowly, a play on being sluggish or asleep. The confusion with the shirt relates to the fact that I am not dressed when I sleep.

Once again, this dream had a prescient thread as many of my dreams do at one point or another (sometimes covering many years in advance which is inherently unfathomable), which is sometimes very frustrating as it often serves no useful purpose other than to convince me that most human minds work in a completely different way than mine. Another poster on the Dreamscloud website had posted an image of a slug (the image repeated three times) just before I was finishing this entry, despite the recognized autosymbolism of a slug representing vague threads of my conscious self identity (in being mostly inactive) in REM sleep.

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Ritual: WTB 1am, woke 8:30am after spontaneous DILD.

In the course of an NLD, I was changing clothes in my bedroom when I spontaneously realized I was dreaming. I decided I shouldn't waste any more time fussing with clothes and instead get to work on the next task I had prioritized: the Fairy Circle TOTY. Glancing at myself in the mirror, still partially undressed, I headed outside.

I wondered if the dream would let me pass through the sliding door to the patio without obstruction, but instead I found myself exerting what almost felt like a realistic level of force to open it. Once outside, I didn't want to get bogged down looking for a fairy circle, so I primed my expectations. The fairy circle, it was right over here... I've seen it before. I headed right and found a nice patch of soil like a garden plot. Just as I had "expected," I saw tiny plants like seedlings growing in a distinct circular ring about five feet in diameter. At first I didn't see any mushrooms, so I reminded myself: And there were mushrooms. Looking closer, I now observed a few small mushrooms interspersed among the plants. I also saw a few smooth, bulbous growths that reminded me of the "stone plants" that had fascinated me when I was a kid. I had forgotten those even existed!

Now that the circle was adequately established, I needed to summon fairies. I knelt down and focused on the center of the ring, where the soil was bare. I noticed faint movement in a spot slightly off-center, and then the loose earth began to fall inward, as though a hole were forming beneath it. I continued to concentrate on the summoning, and then an odd formation slowly rose out of the earth until it stood about two feet high. It resembled a candelabra with at least two tiers of arms in all four directions, except instead of candles, it held small figures that I presumed were the fairies. I reached out and grabbed the one from the very top of the arrangement. It was about eight inches tall and stiff like a statuette.

I looked closely at the small figure in my hand. She was dark-skinned with shoulder-length black hair, wearing a crimson dress with a dark green cape on her back. Her hat was the same crimson as her dress, but in form it resembled a Santa hat, with a white fuzzy brim and a white pompom at the end of the conical tip that draped behind her. Attached to the toes of her green shoes were round bells, both silver and green. I thought the overall impression was really cheesy, not at all how I would have preferred to imagine a fairy! There was one more incongruous detail: her face was contorted with an expression of unmistakable anger.

I was tempted to ask her name, but remembered how pointless and distracting this line of questioning can become, so I should get straight to my real question: "What is your secret?"

Her response was both unexpected and chilling: "It is evil." She sounded as furious as she looked.

"What is?" I asked, utterly perplexed.

I can't recall her initial response, but it did not resolve my confusion. I decided to be more specific: "When you said, 'It is evil,' what did you mean by 'it'?"

She said a few more things that I don't recall, and then a line that struck me clearly: "The evil of a controlled substance is the substance."

This was even more confusing. I hardly ever use controlled substances, at least not illegal ones, so I didn't understand how this could be relevant. Moreover, I disagreed with her stated position: in my view, the main evil of a controlled substance is the social strictures that punish people for possessing or using it.

"Why did you bury amphetamines?" the fairy pressed.

What happened next was the clearest case of false memory that I've experienced to date. With what felt like a flash of insight, I suddenly realized the probable reason she was so angry. I "remembered" something about my fairy circle—something that I'm pretty sure had not come up in the dream until the point at which I now "remembered" it, but now seemed to explain everything. I recalled that at one point I had buried a bunch of drugs inside the fairy circle, mostly amphetamines, as part of my preparations for the ritual to lure or summon the fairies. It now occurred to me that this might have caused problems within fairy society, and I felt a twinge of guilt.

I didn't think I would get any more useful information from this fairy, so I put her aside and grabbed another, this time from the side of the candelabra-like arrangement.

This fairy didn't look human at all. It looked like... a turnip? Was that the right vegetable? The white round bulb with a blush of purplish-red at the top? Yes, a turnip. I was reminded of a photograph of a white radish by Edward Weston (1886–1958) that I had seen the day before in WL. This was clearly a turnip, not a radish, but it gave me a similarly vulgar impression. If this was a fairy, it was clearly not from the upper echelon of fairy society. Or could its abject appearance be the result of too many amphetamines?

Well, here goes.

"I have a question." I said, wondering if the turnip-fairy could understand me. "The question I've come to ask is: What is your secret?"

I was still rotating the turnip in my hands as I spoke to it, uncertain which side was the appropriate one to address. How do you talk to something with no face?

I heard a male voice, faint, with the accents of a yokel, like Cletus on The Simpsons. It responded to the question in my mind, not the one I had voiced: "There is a side that says: 'Look at me'."

I realized the turnip must be trying to help me orient it properly, so I turned it until I found a round black label with white block lettering that, sure enough, said "LOOK AT ME." It was hard to make out—I missed it at first—because the label was embedded in a scene featuring the stylized profile of a man in a black cloak.

"It would be a lot easier to see if there was some white space around it," I commented about the label.

The turnip-fairy took my suggestion and the surrounding scene promptly faded, leaving the round black label with its white letters clearly discernible. I reminded the turnip that I had come to ask its secret.

I don't recall its initial answer, but I do remember my skepticism. Whatever he had said had sounded as unconvincing as the response I had gotten from the first fairy, and I assumed that he, too, might be pursuring an agenda that involved concealing the truth.

"I don't think that's your secret." I said doubtfully. "Tell me your real secret."

The tone of his response implied that I was wilfully ignoring the obvious: "Oh come on, we can't tell you that."

Even before his sentence had concluded, I was ejected from the scene and found myself standing in my bathroom. I felt like I had woken up, but wasn't sure. I briefly considered going back outside and attempting to continue the scenario, but realized I should promptly write down what had already happened. I grabbed my notepad from the bedside table, and after a bit of trouble with the pen—which I recognized as another dream sign—I started writing down what had happened. Although I realized I was probably not yet awake, I figured that even while still dreaming it could be useful to write down some initial recollections while they were fresh, and it might help me remember them better when I did wake up.

However, I hadn't gotten more than a few sentences into it when dream-writing began to feel tedious, and I was afraid I would get distracted, fall into an NLD, and lose the memories entirely, so I forced myself awake. But as soon as I grabbed my actual notepad to begin writing in WL, I realized my mistake: merely transitioning to wakefulness had dulled the memories of the dream that had been so crystal clear just before I had woken up. I wrote down everything I could still recall, but unfortunately some details of the conversations were lost.

I was in a forest with my family and my cousin. It was flooded, so we had to walk through water. I tripped and got muddy. It was hard to get up, but when I did I realized I was a but ahead of everyone. There was a computer on the other side. I downloaded a Zelda game, after which the computer prompted me with with a message along the lines of "This computer loves you," only written with really bad grammar.

The dream skips.

I was in a town. I got on a small bus with about 5 rows of seats. A guy tried to get on but the bus driver wouldn't let him. He was getting mad at the bus driver, while talking in a cheesy actor voice. I had a feeling that I was on some kind of prank show. The man finally sat down and the bus ride began. He explained to the others on the bus that the ride was "scary at first but then it gets calm." I didn't know what he meant by that, but I was starting to panic. The rules were that we all had to sit in our own seat, but I went to the back of the bus and sat with two girls.

As the bus began to move, it got dark. We must have gone inside a building or something. I saw a guy outside the window. I thought he was going to jump out at us, but he didn't. Soon the bus became invisible, and turnips began flying at us. One of the girls says "I'm not good with diseases," so I figure these turnips were poisoned or something. As we moved through the house, I realize I got separated from the group. I was floating in my chair still, which was still invisible.

The next room I went into was like a room in a real house. It had green wallpaper. There was a woman inside the room. She told me "if you want more responsibility, pick up the phone," however, the phone wasn't ringing. I tride leaving the room through the door on the opposite side of the room, but it was difficult because I was floating in all different directions. I finally made it through only to find I was back in the same room.