Morning of August 18, 2017. Friday. I seem to be in bed with Zsuzsanna. However, our bed seems to be in the backyard of our present home with our heads oriented south (with the same left and right orientation as we are sleeping in reality). It is full daylight out. Still, there is an odd sense of bilocation of which is not defined in the usual way. A boy of about ten years old comes into our backyard a few times from our neighbor’s backyard. He is unknown and unfamiliar, though implied to be the neighbor’s son (though this “neighbor” is also an unknown character). I display a bit of anger and aggression and he goes back each time, somehow going over the fence, though it seems somewhat like the old metal fence that was not very high. He has a somewhat condescending nature. My awareness shifts and my dream changes orientation. Now our bed is in the Loomis Street living room, our heads west, opposite the front entrance. Once again, the boy is imposing by coming in through the front door, which may have been left open. I do not express much anger. His father, an unknown chubby male of about thirty and with red hair, also comes in through the door as if he had been uncertain as to where his son had gotten off to. I nod and I do not express any anger at the imposition of either, almost as if their ridiculous intrusions do not matter at this point. The other man seems friendly and calm. Nothing relevant to waking life (on a personal level) is to be found here; just the usual dreaming and waking symbolism, here rendered as doorway waking symbolism, though in many cases, a distorted rendering of the emergent consciousness, mixed in with dynamics of the preconscious (sometimes as a “monster”) remains within a doorway rather than viably using a door or doorway. I can only guess that these two unknown characters were related to unconsciously perceiving (remote viewing) random unknown people in the area as I was sleeping, the boy linked into the transpersonal stream via the preconscious while his father linked to the emergent consciousness, a dynamic that has often occurred in past dreams. The fence is a clue, as a fence symbolizes a division in levels of consciousness within the dream state and of course our being in bed is simply an indicator of being in the dream state. It has remained obvious through tens of thousands of dreams for over fifty years, that the transpersonal preconscious stream integrates found personas that are the least like the conscious self identity, for that is the only real way, excluding willing coalescence, that the dream self attains enough emotion (through aggravation, conflict, or other emotions) to come out of the dream state under many conditions. Otherwise, the “ripples” of neural energy are unlikely to increase and the dreamer would remain in the dream. Waking and waking prompts are a biological necessity, yet most of humanity does not even come close to grasping the simplest concepts concerning dreams or their purpose or meaning.
Morning of August 9, 2017. Wednesday. I become aware that I am babysitting an unfamiliar boy of about four years of age in the northeast area of the Cubitis living room. I perceive myself as being about twenty-five years old. It feels like it might be late morning. I have no associations with whomever the boy’s parents might be. The dreamer does not realize that he has not lived in Cubitis since 1978, leaving when he was seventeen. He also does not recall that he lived in Wisconsin when he was twenty-five, not Florida. The memory of his three sons (and two daughters) does not seem extant, though the presence of the unfamiliar boy, who does not resemble any of his sons, may be a subliminal clue, though he otherwise has no memory of who he presently really is. There is a huge Raggedy Ann doll sitting against the north wall near the northeast corner of the living room. I have a notion that the giant stuffed doll is somehow a mother figure for the boy. It almost reaches the ceiling. The head is unrealistically large in proportion to the rest of the doll. Time passes, and the head seems flatter (front to back) than it should be. The doll begins to sag and lean forward and the boy and I are annoyed that this oversized pie-like head may cover us. I have to push it back a few times, but when I do, the whole doll, especially the head, seems slightly thinner. The dreamer still does not have viable memory. He does not question why a giant doll would be perceived as a “real” mother by the boy or comfort him as such. He does not even consider simply moving out of the way of the doll when it leans forward at times. He does not consider why the doll’s head gets vertically flatter when there is no discernible reason for the change. Perhaps he is subliminally aware of the weight of the blanket on his real physical body as he sleeps, and perhaps through the veil of sleep, he indirectly recalls that his youngest daughter has stuffed toys near her as she sleeps. Could this hodgepodge of current neural energy while sleeping be why such a scene is rendered? He also did have concern that his youngest son had enough blankets prior to sleeping. As a doll symbolizes the physical inactivity of someone while in the dream state, it likely is a very distorted thread of memory of his beautiful wife Zsuzsanna, combined with thoughts of his pillow that sometimes seems too flat. Eventually, I notice that much of the oversized ragdoll is now more like a collection of blankets that fall forward at times, a couple that cover me, though I think the doll is still sitting there. It seems ambiguous, and the round face itself seems more and more like a large flat pillow I push back several times. It does not seem cold. I do not think that the boy will be harmed, only perhaps annoyed by being covered like this. After a few minutes, I am aware that Dennis (half-brother on my mother’s side) is coming into the house. He seems about thirty years old and is dressed like a biker. He wants to show me something. It seems the boy will be okay on his own, though I somehow perceive that Dennis has no interest in the boy’s well-being. I go with him for a short distance after leaving the house. I then decide to fly. Coming out from the house, it is now the King Street boarding house. I effortlessness fly north over Tenth Street South, leaving Dennis behind for now. The dreamer’s brother had not been to Florida since 1970. Like every other dream feature, it is erroneous, completely removed from any correct timeline. Even more curiously, he walked out from the north end of the open carport in Florida yet simultaneously from the closed porch of the King Street boarding house, not regarded in real life much since 1990 and over 1,500 miles away from the original setting. There is no measure of distance in thought, but that is moot, as the two buildings were somehow perceived as being the same. The dreamer often flies in his dreams as if it was a perfectly natural thing to do. To take to the air to get somewhere else is what he has done often for many years in both lucid and non-lucid dreams, without considering physics or gravity. There is no doubt, but the dream self is not the conscious self, and the rules that dictate that flying cannot be as such do not apply, even if there was some subliminal memory that it was not possible. I end up in some sort of forest on the other side of La Crosse, which I perceive may be several blocks west of Loomis Street. After walking around and entering a denser area of forest by way of a footpath, I notice that Dennis is already here. He talks to a seemingly homeless person in dark apparel. The unfamiliar scruffy male is sitting at the side of the path, facing outwards from the dense trees. Dennis seems annoyed and may be impatient about something. It has something to do with the other male not owning a motorcycle as he is expected to. There is no fighting, just a conversation. It seems the other male may have sold or lost his motorcycle and is now living in the woods. I walk around and see another clear footpath that leads straight through the densest part of the forest. It seems to be afternoon and the imagery is very clear and beautiful. The path leads east and seems to continue for quite a distance. I can see an open area at the very end that indicates an urban area. Still, after walking around, I decide to fly again. The dreamer does not question this fictional area of land. The area in real life would be within the same area as the Northside Elementary School (though the area looks much different now than when he last lived there in February 1994). He does not ask himself how Dennis apparently walked there and got there before him. As I am flying, my focus changes somewhat. I see below me, something that is almost like a life-sized map, showing how the area originally appeared. It was mostly a marshy expanse with no trees for a long time. This changes, as Dennis had planted a number of saplings over time, until it was a dense forest. Curiously, I am aware that no one else, including members of the city council, ever noticed this change other than Dennis and a few biker friends of his. I watch the changes in the map as I turn and fly south. Looking down on a slowly animated life-sized map superimposed over the bird’s-eye view of the land below does not seem unusual to the dreamer. It is like a visual historical view displaying the changes over time, not following the rules of real-life perception. He does not fly back down to investigate or consider that if he did, he might be in the original treeless marsh as it supposedly was years previously. I am now aware that it is nighttime even though it had been afternoon moments before. I do not find the change unusual. I am aware of a missile lighting up a small area of the sky to the north, over what I perceive may be a small island, but I still consider it as a threat even though it seems far away. My wife Zsuzsanna now joins me as we run southward. The buildings around us start to shake. They seem to wobble and waver unrealistically, somewhat like exaggerated jelly motions. I think we can escape. We run over the tops of buildings, over the roofs of commercial buildings of various heights, no attention to how tall they are. It seems effortless but annoying. I get the idea to take cover in a boiler room of a commercial building. I sense the ceiling may collapse, but it does not, though there is still shaking. We end up near a breaker panel. I have a fading idea about possibly resetting the main breaker, as if that might somehow make the building more suitable to hide in. The dreamer’s memory seems more viable now as he recalls Zsuzsanna. There is even a thread of recent memory about North Korea’s missile launches, but little else. His focus on the breaker panel reveals a subliminal awareness of the neural energy within his mind, yet not fully realizing why this thought emerges in the last seconds of his dream or whether it symbolizes “deactivating” his dream, increasing his neural energy and expansion into whole consciousness, or both.
Morning of August 2, 2017. Wednesday. I am with my wife Zsuzsanna. We are with several unknown people. In the first scenario, we are in some soft of unusual park. There is an unfamiliar female, dressed somewhat like a carnival fortune teller, who supposedly understands things about rare creatures in the area as well as how to use certain herbs for health. Still, there is a point at which I decide to leave with the others without any of us really interacting with her. She tells me about how I had changed my mind about asking her something after I already gained my own information about something. It is not really patronizing; just an observation, I think. I had taken the remains of two witch snakes that had died of natural causes. They are mostly like a snake other than having the miniature head of a Halloween witch. There is a painting of one in some sort of brochure, which I mention is not realistic because the head does not look right, being too cylindrical. An unknown male seems to have a different opinion, claiming that is how they look when alive. I take the fangs out of the upper part of their mouths, though I arrange them as pointing upwards, front down on a surface. Each creature has three teeth, it seems, though I first think that there had been four. It seems that another male might have lost a couple when the surface was tilted, and they slid off, but after there seemingly being at least one with four teeth, it looks like only three from each. I mention how it seems that one witch snake was older when it died, due to its fang-like teeth being cracked (with thin lines) vertically, in the back. Our group ends up walking in an unknown area, though it eventually resembles the grounds of my old middle school in Florida on the north end. I talk about how each tooth could be sold to superstitious people as some sort of object for healing. This seems amusing to me and I think I might be able to make a lot of money but then I consider that people might only be willing to pay twenty dollars each as another male gives advice and seems to agree. I then talk about how we can create the “same” fangs to have a potential to make more money. I mention how if dirt is placed in the mouth of a clam that a tooth would grow from that location. (This is actually some sort of distorted memory relating to how pearls are formed in oysters. There is probably also a second layer of distortion based on the phrase “pearly whites”, referring to teeth.)
Morning of August 1, 2017. Tuesday. Dream #: 18,488-02. Reading Time (optimized): 2 min. I am with several people on an unusual little island at night. I walk around in a paved area. A small canal divides most of the island about one-quarter in from the side opposite of where I stand. There is at least one big brick building that blocks my view of the ocean on my right. Zsuzsanna and our youngest son are eventually with me. We go over to the canal. I notice that the ocean on the opposite side of the island, which I can now clearly see, has whitecaps (though I do not focus as much on the waves on my left side). An unknown girl talks about it publicly, relaying a concern that makes me consider if the waves could eventually cover the island. The island’s isolation contributes to this concern but not for long. I look into the depths of the canal and see a shadowy shape that I soon see is a shark of about four feet long. I tell Zsuzsanna and our son to watch, and we cheerfully look into the water. I soon notice other small sharks as well as a little dolphin, which is surprising, as they do not fight. They do not look real and make me think indirectly of CGI. We share amusement in watching these creatures in addition to several tiny fish. The more active area of the ocean remains off to my right, behind the big building, but some of it is still visible through the end of the canal and surrounding area. Zsuzsanna remains on my left, correlating with our sleeping positions. Additionally, this is one of many dreams that lack definition or attention to my left in contrast to a clear focus to my right, which is subliminal wakefulness anticipation (as I sleep on my left side, my right more exposed to my environment correlating in the dream state with its concurrent monitoring). For over 50 years, water has been a consistent factor of natural melatonin mediation and ultradian and circadian rhythm in correlation with my sleep cycle. The unknown girl is a subliminal reminder of the Naiad factor from high-level dream state induction, though here has transitioned to the RAS (reticular activating system) mediation stage. She is “warning” me about the high waves, a warning about not sleeping too long, the island being the dream state. I was aware that I was at least partly responsible for creating the ocean creatures, but with no dream state realization. The eradication of the unintelligent hype equating lucid dreaming with dream control is necessary to understand the processes and dynamics of awareness in all modes of dream space. The ambiguity of whether they should be sharks or dolphins (with both appearing without incident) reflects the dual nature of RAS mediation and simulacra transitions, from REM and non-REM sleep induction to consciousness reinitiation. Zsuzsanna had a dream with the same content in the same period, including the CGI association with ocean creatures. It happens regularly, with too much matching detail to be coincidental.
Updated 03-10-2019 at 07:35 AM by 1390
Morning of July 29, 2017. Saturday. [I am within my dream state, unaware of being asleep, yet with most of my conscious self identity extant. Still, towards the higher end of REM, my neural energies begin to grow. I associate them with plants, just as nerve roots seem analogous to the roots of plants. The play on “garden bed” also seems present.] My wife Zsuzsanna remains to my left as I explore an area of our garden that I had somehow not been aware of until this moment. There are two rows of unknown plants, about nine clusters in each row, that are about two feet in height at the most. Over time, Zsuzsanna tells me about the flowers on them after I first assume them to be some sort of vegetable. [My wife is also to my left as we sleep. The patterns of my neural energies are not consistent within the dream state. This is the biological nature of sleeping and dreaming. Some newly activate and grow symbolically like a plant; symbolism of which I validated in the 1980s; some cease to be viable.] Around the area of where the fifth group of plants are in the row on my side from my left, I notice a few clusters that are wilted and almost horizontal to the ground, leaning to the right. I feel annoyed and I consider that the seeds had been too close together when sprouting. [Critical thinking skills are mainly nonexistent in the dream state. Such neural patterns would bring too much clarity to remain in the dream state. Still - I consider a different way that my neural patterns could be more viable in analogy. The vague oscillations of neural energy that I become aware of manifest as Christmas beetles that the plants are actually growing from within the flowers, insects being a more tangible form of a specific pattern of consciousness than water, yet closer to neural energies that would initiate waking. I do not think it strange that a Christmas bell plant would grow a Christmas beetle, or more specifically, one from each stamen. Each stamen symbolizes each dendrite in my physical mind in real time.] I see Christmas beetles emerging from the downwardly oriented flowers, these beetles having directly grown from the plants. There are eventually more and more of them. I have no sense of wariness or unpleasantness. In fact, I think I might like to keep them because of their beauty. [My dream self teleports and is now within our house mostly as it is now, though with minor variations in size and layout. I do not immediately realize that having so many Christmas beetles in the house might prove to be problematic. Too many neural energies brought deeper into the residence of my dream would expand into the waking stage.] At first, I enjoy having all these Christmas beetles in the house as I watch them in our kitchen and lounge room. However, something in the back of my mind makes me realize that it is not so good an idea. For one thing, they start to buzz, yet the real issue relates to their ability to crawl into anything and everything and spread into various possessions. This is something that I start to consider is not really what I want. [I have decided that I do not want all of these neural energies within this level of consciousness as it will surely bring about the ascent into whole consciousness if I keep them inside. I consider gathering them up and putting them outside. My dream fades fairly quickly.] My wife Zsuzsanna, in real life, not that long after my dream, brings attention to some Christmas bell plants I had no idea about. There was no prompt from me, and no way of knowing what had been on her mind previously. This follows the general rule that at least one dream per sleep cycle renders material from her essence and her mind.
Early evening of July 27, 2017. Thursday. Dream #: 8,483-07. Reading time: 1 min 10 sec. Precursory (vestibular): I enter my dream self’s imaginary physical body and find myself running. I am Grant Williams as Scott Carey in the 1957 movie “The Incredible Shrinking Man.” I am running over the top of a series of cardboard boxes on about the fourth shelf up of a metal utility shelving unit. I am about four inches tall. I do not seem to be running because of a threat, just running along. (“On the shelf” is autosymbolism that is analogous to being in bed. The closed boxes represent the inability to move my body while sleeping, yet I am running on them as I still subliminally perceive my muscularity.) Virtual witness integration: Zsuzsanna, appearing somewhat like a 1950s actress, is running behind me, though to my left. There is a heightened sense of energy. (This short dream occurred at about 5:30 pm AEST during a nap. Zsuzsanna was in bed with me at the time. She was to my left because she was to my left in bed, and behind me, because I was closer to waking as liminally perceived by my dream self.) The drop: Soon, I see the scene from an incorporeal viewpoint from the front of the shelving unit. “We” are running from left to right. Grant Williams as Scott Carey as “me,” running at an angle, runs straight off the cardboard box from off the front of the shelf and falls to the floor onto his right side and kicks. Simultaneously, I experience a mild hypnopompic kick and upper back spasm as I realize the residual imagery reflects my sleeping position. (I am looking down at my body.) This July 27, 2017 dream is a fictitious scene from “The Incredible Shrinking Man.” Grant Williams died on July 28, 1985.
Updated 09-25-2019 at 06:44 AM by 1390
Morning of July 15, 2017. Saturday. My dream starts out on the porch of the Barolin Street house (our previous home of where we have not lived since 2008). This is atypical, as the porch setting, though representing liminal space, is linked to the induction stage rather than the waking transition. As such, it begins to rain (water induction, my most common type, as water symbolizes the real-time dynamics of sleep). I enjoy its essence but I then realize that there are several small stacks of comic books in the north side yard, probably only four or five comic books in each of about nine stacks. Many seem to be Harvey comic books, such as “Casper the Friendly Ghost”. They are arranged in mostly an equidistant pattern (of about six inches apart to each direction) on a very low-set table or thin plywood platform. Zsuzsanna is with me. I realize that I have to run and get them so that they are not ruined. When I go out into the rain, I feel very good, even though I have to act quickly. Curiously, the books show no signs of getting wet as I gather them. After I take them onto our porch, my dream changes, and there are far less threads of my conscious self identity present. I now seem to be about eighteen years old or younger. My mother is still alive (and I have absolutely no recall of her having died in 2002). Strangely, even though my brother Earl did not die until November 29, 2007, I perceive him (via a false memory and false backstory) as having died when I was a teenager. (Therefore, my mother being alive in my dream and Earl being deceased is a typical error that dreams make all the time.) The setting is very sparse in detail and so undefined, there is no discernment of whether it is indoors or outdoors or the typical ambiguous combination that my dream self somehow always perceptually resolves. This “impossible” thinking pattern is not viable when I am fully conscious, and remains a distortion native to the dream state only (though I really cannot understand how this could work despite critical thinking skills not existing in most non-lucid dream types). My mother is present at times, including the very last scene. I mostly look at various Matchbox Cars. These are ones my brother Earl supposedly owned while living in Cubitis. (Although I still continuously have dreams based on variations of Cubitis, where I have not lived since the summer of 1978, dreaming of Earl’s house in Cubitis, which was only a few houses south of us, is quite rare.) Earl is present in some sort of ghost form, but otherwise appears to be normal, as he was in perhaps the late 1960s. He only looks on at my activities at times. Yet another error in this dream is that I see Earl as being married to his third wife Cindy in this time period (and she is “still” living in his Cubitis house) rather than his first wife Beverly (and in fact, I have no awareness of him being married to anyone else). His ghost form seems to be a natural result of dying; that is, people die, and then they exist as visible “ghosts”, set apart from the physical world, but otherwise just as they were when alive. I open a long rectangular cardboard box that is a racing set based on Matchbox Cars. There is a blue racing car that I look at for a short time. I do not think Earl will be angry as I look at his collection. In the last scene, my mother is nearby. I play around with two blue Matchbox Car pickup trucks that are identical except for the position of the wings of the oversized white chicken sitting in each pickup truck bed. I get the impression it might be meant to be an advertising gimmick (possibly for KFC). One chicken’s wings are out and horizontal while the other’s wings are down and against its body. The chickens also rotate to spin around the pickup truck bed, and I start spinning them prior to waking. Although this non-lucid dream is extraordinarily easy to decode the native meaning of as most of my non-lucid dreams are, I will presently only focus on the last amusing segment. Chickens are birds that cannot fly very well, so are a typical example of “failed flight” (a form of “return flight”) waking symbolism. This is not negative and has nothing to do with conscious self “issues” as “dream interpreters” (not a real concept) seem to like to pretend via the Barnum effect. Waking symbolism as such is an indicator of the anticipatory (though subliminal) nature of hypnopompia, which is a biological process. As a result, bird and airplane symbolism (and flying in general) has been extremely common in my dreams since earliest memory, for over fifty years, continuously occurring in over one in five dreams in the tens of thousands I have studied. In this one, there is even an obvious dream sign play, the pickup truck BED, an indicator of being in the dream state, even more so with the oversized chickens on them. Pairs of birds (of various species) have occurred in a number of my dreams. They represent, in most cases, Zsuzsanna and I sleeping together. They are different in their wing status (and in different pickup trucks) in this case due to Zsuzsanna and I being in different levels of sleep (in real time). My mother as my emergent consciousness is likely a vague association with Zsuzsanna prior to waking (as she is a mother to our children). Beds (sometimes in unusual locations) as real-time dream state indicators are also common in Zsuzsanna’s dreams.
Updated 07-15-2017 at 09:00 AM by 1390
Morning of July 6, 2017. Thursday. Dream #: 18,462-02. Reading time: 42 sec. In the first segment of my dream, Zsuzsanna and I are hugging and kissing in bed, in the King Street mansion (not a factor of our waking life as Zsuzsanna has never been to America) in the east middle apartment. The bed is perpendicular (its head north instead of east) to where it had been in waking life. As I walk in the hall to go downstairs, I realize I am only wearing my left shoe. I repeat my routine of returning to the room and putting my shoes on until I see I am wearing both shoes. Leonard is in his room at the end of the hall. He seems cheerful and appears as he was in the 1980s. He refers to me as his son John. (I had been wearing pants in bed in my dream, probably related to another part of the poem Leonard references, “Went to bed with his trousers on.” Another line is “One shoe off, and the other shoe on.”) “Diddle, Diddle, Dumpling, My Son John” was the influence of this dream.
Morning of June 26, 2017. Monday. I am in a school setting, but it is completely unfamliar in regards to the school I went to in reality and I am unsure of the implied location. On one level, it seems vaguely bilocated with the area near Loomis and Gillette streets, though not the real-life school (that I never went to). I mostly spend time walking around with a young atypical version of Zsuzsanna, who seems more like a classmate around my own age. I give her love and attention, though in the background, there is the realization of many other students projecting an overall mindless nature in addition to a group mentality of no benefit to anyone, which she also seems aware of and does not want to be a part of. I refer to her as my “partner” when speaking to an unfamiliar male. After what seems a long time, the scenario changes. I have picked up a broken globe. The globe seems to have been made at least partly of glass and is only about twice as big as my fist. It is in several pieces. A male that reminds me somewhat of Zsuzsanna’s father is on the other side of the room (though I have never met him in reality and only talked to him on the telephone years ago). In a non-lucid state, I cause the broken pieces to hover in the air, with no effort other than basic thought. Soon, I decide to fix the globe. I cup my hands around the jagged variously-sized pieces after they are placed together. There is an incredible vividness of heat and steam flowing from the palms of both of my hands. I am clearly aware that this will reseal the globe, somewhat like welding, but more like melting the glass and then smoothly connecting all areas of the surface. The steam and hissing coming from my hands does not cause any discomfort even though my sense of touch is otherwise enhanced. The globe of the world is a smooth sphere again. The other male does not seem alarmed or even puzzled. This is somewhat unusual in that it is the reversal of typical dream cessation symbolism, though because of its vividness, is probably more about stabilizing my emergent consciousness factor in this case. This is one of a few dreams of this date that was directly influenced by looking back at a childhood dream from 1971, which had been influenced by seeing “Crack in the World” (a 1965 movie). This dream is more like the 1971 dream than the others. (In fact, many of the few hundred brief dreams of this sleep cycle’s beginning centered around the movie theme to some extent. The fact that I had only thought about the 1971 dream for a short time, and the fact I had not seen the movie for a long time, is puzzling in how much influence there is over a new dream which is otherwise completely unrelated to my present life status, and yet this is a very common occurrence.) Additionally, I now realize that I had also been looking at a photograph from a 1982 dream (“Apple Baby”), which is a close shot of a hand holding a large apple.
Morning of June 20, 2017. Tuesday. My wife Zsuzsanna and our children as we are now are living in an unknown residence, though the last scene is modeled after the southwest Cubitis bedroom (where I have not been since 1978). Zsuzsanna tells me that our youngest son seems to be in a trance. He is lying on his back in a bed chanting numbers, though at one point he is doing this with his knees over the side of the bed. Zsuzsanna just says that “he’s counting”. His eyes are open but he seems “asleep”. (Of course, this situation is simply a real-time subliminal factor of being asleep myself and is so common, I typified “The Sleeper” as such when very young. The Sleeper is not always a human character and there are sometimes a group of Sleepers. Still, the validation of The Sleeper depends on other dream dynamics. For example, in one surreal dream where our youngest son was in a bed and seemingly very ill, there were additional precognitive factors.) Our son’s left eye seems unusual and is a different color than his other eye. (My view of it is greatly magnified as is fairly common in dreams. This was influenced by a bit of redness he had in one eye a few days ago, which is okay now.) Over time, our son is awake but he talks about having two heads. He does not actually have two heads but he seems to think he does when looking in a mirror. He even motions with his hand to show where it supposedly is (apparently on his right shoulder). In the last scene, I am in the room modeled after the southwest Cubitis bedroom. Looking in a mirror, I see I have a second head on my left shoulder. This head is partly reminiscent of a character like Mr. Hyde in an old “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde” movie (such as from 1931). The other head does not seem threatening. In fact, it seems cheerful. I consider whether or not someone is standing behind me with his chin over my left shoulder, but there is no one there. I reach up and touch my other head, mostly around the face on the cheeks. It feels like I am touching someone else’s skin rather than my own, which makes me consider why it does not feel as if I am touching my skin. It seems too much like real flesh to be an artificial head someone may have placed there. In the last scene, prior to my dream fading, I tell Zsuzsanna about it, but at first, it seems that I am the only one who can see it. However, our youngest son seems to be able to point it out at times, apparently because he had an extra head but is now fine in every way. This apparent syndrome is only temporary though I had vaguely considered if it was related to some sort of haunting. That preconscious is a laugh riot. (This dream was probably influenced by “The Manster”, though which I have not seen in a long time. If so, it would have been triggered by the focus on our son’s red eye a few days ago, as in the movie, the extra head starts out as one large eye on the man’s shoulder.) Basically, this is just another metaphor for coalescence of the personified (or monsterfied?) preconscious into the dream self prior to returning to whole consciousness. Of course, it is not usually physically literal in this way. One of my last dreams of having two heads was on February 24th of this year.
Updated 06-20-2017 at 03:47 PM by 1390
Morning of June 18, 2017. Sunday. My wife Zsuzsanna and I are in an unknown bedroom which is seemingly implied to be part of our home. I have some sort of booby trap set up. It is a jury-rigged device with an explosive. It is set up like this to prevent any imposer from having more access to our home. The setting has the essence of some sort of unlikely composite of the lounge room of our present home and my fourth grade portable classroom that was north of the main building, with the classroom layout here mirrored from right to left when inside. When the imposer comes in through the doorway, there will be an explosion. I consider the setup. The imposer will perhaps not be killed; only surprised. I talk to Zsuzsanna about the setup. Our bed is longways (adjacent to the wall) just to the left of the entrance. (I am not even sure if there is an actual door covering the entrance.) The foot of our bed comes up to near the entrance directly on the left side. The booby trap is right at the foot of our bed. I consider that perhaps it is not that great of an idea. I tell Zsuzsanna that the explosion will probably be big and that it might destroy a part of the house or even reach us. I go over to the device and pick up an oversized nine-volt battery. It has two wires at the top, each connected to what would otherwise be snap connectors. The two wires then lead to the explosive pack. However, instead of two polarized snap connectors at the top, there are two smooth electrodes with the same positive polarity implied for each, each of the appearance of an electrode from a singular cylindrical battery. I remove the wire from one, which will probably prevent the pack from exploding. Still, I also remove the second wire. I now know that I have disabled it. Of course, this setup makes no sense. In the first place, the nine-volt battery, other than being over twice the size it should be, would have no polarity in reality due to its invalid design. In the second place, one could not wrap wire around a cylindrical electrode (as it would just slide off). In the third place, there does not seem to be any kind of tripwire for when the imposer comes in, but just a small container of some sort on the foot of the bed, attached with two long wires to the oversized nine-volt battery. Still, as would be expected, disabling my fictional device caused a softer waking, with no hypnopompic jerk. I find it fascinating how the majority of dreams are internally premonitory (in a biological sense) of the waking mechanism, especially related to the seemingly infinite ways a dream renders the lead up to waking symbolism. So what is happening in this particular dream? Well, the bomb is at the foot of the bed. When I disable it, I (or rather my unconscious essence) have done something biologically that prevents the type of hypnopompic jerk that is like my leg spontaneously kicking upwards. The location at the foot of the bed validates this quite obviously, and the different locations relate to the subliminal awareness that my hypnopompic kick might also disturb Zsuzsanna (so thus I am talking about the imposer, as subliminally expecting my emergent consciousness factor rather than the preconscious). It is also to the left of a doorway. A doorway symbolizes a real-time shift in consciousness, often the symbolic state directly between dreaming and waking up, as has been validated in thousands of my dreams since early childhood (and which I have typified when only about ten years of age as the “threshold” type). Zsuzsanna is to my left in my dream as she is in reality in bed as we are sleeping (a repeating orientation in my dreams.) Additionally, the battery and wires represent nerves and disabling it is symbolic of softening the nerve impulses of my real physical body. As with common symbolic (but subliminal) reinduction, this is not clear to me until directly after waking. I have, since very young, always found it far more meaningful and important to understand the true meaning of non-lucid dreams than the pretend game of “interpretation” in the naïve sense. To each his own.
Morning of June 13, 2017. Tuesday. I find myself wandering in a distorted version of Cubitis, seemingly in the morning at first. The area within and near the carport is expanded to at least twice its real size. I am walking easterly and happen to look back to see two shadows, male and female. They are not deliberately following me, just going in the same direction I am, it seems, but something in the back of my mind, in dawning lucidity, makes me perceive them as Zsuzsanna and I as a precursor to being in the state just prior to waking. Over time, my lucidity increases until it shifts into full apex lucidity. A young version of Zsuzsanna is present, appearing to be around the age when we first met. We stand in semidarkness in an unfamiliar bedroom. An unknown male stands off to my left. I am not concerned. He does not seem to be an active precursor of the preconscious, so I mostly ignore him while indulging in foreplay with Zsuzsanna. The sense of touch is extraordinarily augmented. We kiss, and I place my hands about her shoulders. Everything is perfect. Eventually, my awareness increases even more, but I hear Zsuzsanna now whispering things to me that seem different from what my own mind is focused on. My fingers move over her skin, down over the small of her back. I am trying to work out what she is saying but some of the words are not clear. I ask her questions, but eventually only vividly hear her say what I take to be “sore”. I then assume she has physical soreness and I am somewhat disheartened. However, as I shift into full waking, I realize the word was meant to be “soar”, as in the very common waking symbolism of “return flight”. (I see a flash of a childhood dream from November 1968 where I watch a giant eagle-like bird flying.) Over twenty percent of the tens of thousands of my dreams I have studied and decoded since early childhood contain the return flight waking symbolism of the hypnopompic biological event (of various degrees of subliminally anticipated intensity). This major naturally premonitory precursor is somehow always unique even though the meaning is basically always the same, simply symbolizing the return to full consciousness. It is however, often curiously mixed with other dynamics, sometimes even precognitive (such as my detailed dreams relating to the missing Malaysian flight). In lucid dreams, the nature of shadows sometimes comes into play as threads of dawning consciousness (since you cannot have a shadow without light, light representing the day and the conscious self identity). As the sun would symbolize the present whole conscious self identity (which is why strange things occur with the sun in non-lucid dreams - because the conscious self is not coherent or lucid), a shadow would indicate threads of conscious self awareness growing in the dream state (which strangely, at least apparently for some people, the non-lucid or fictional and incomplete dream self sometimes fears). My own shadow usually only appears in vivid lucid dreams and sometimes I indulge in moving to see if my shadow moves with me, which is always amusing, though if I am in a lucid dream where it seems I am deeper within sleep or the unconscious realm, my “shadow self” appears at more of a distance away, sometimes even on a bridge (which symbolizes the transitions between levels of consciousness in real time).
Morning of June 12, 2017. Monday. As with many of my dreams throughout my life, this dream is far too long, nonlinear, and surreal to relate cohesively online, though I will attempt to relate some of the main scenes as closely as possible. I find myself with the understanding that I am playing Luke Skywalker in a new low-budget “Star Wars” movie. Zsuzsanna is Princess Leia (even though Luke and Leia were brother and sister rather than man and wife). The movie is implied to be along the same lines as the first “Star Wars” movie and I guess is meant to be a cheap remake. A couple other characters are with us, including a skinny version of Chewbacca, with much sparser hair. In one scene, we are wading through a pond just outside of a large building, but we eventually enter the building. There is an unknown male near the entrance who is holding people’s credentials until they come back after exploring the building or possibly engaging in recreational activities. One of the unknown people I am with refuses to give the man his identification card and I think there might be some trouble. However, there is no implication of violence. The man instead hands him a small flower on a long stem, or at least that is what he says it is. To me, it looks more like some sort of small plastic rod, perhaps a toy. Still, nothing confrontational occurs. After wandering about in the halls, we come to a room that is filled with water of about waist high (and thus must have a sunken floor). There is a giant jellyfish that I have to cut off from around Zsuzsanna and possibly another character. I use a large sharp sword. It takes awhile as I slice through its thick but soft body below the surface of the water. Someone shows me a miniature jellyfish that was just found in the small left pocket (of some sort of blue tunic) of one of our group (though this person must have been killed or vanished). This miniature jellyfish is like another one that apparently turned into the giant jellyfish and had entered his pocket while we waded in the pond outside the front of the building (on the left of the entrance). From here, we walk towards the entrance, somehow not at all wet. Somehow, my “sword” is now a fake “lightsaber”, though not really like a lightsaber at all. I am carrying it horizontally in my right hand. It has a pink blade and a blue handle and is more like a giant toy jackknife even though, again, it is supposed to be a “Star Wars” lightsaber of about the same length. I realize that weapons are probably not allowed in the building. I do not want a confrontation, though none occurs as I fold the oversized plastic blade back into the handle. Meanwhile, the character that had taken our credentials stands without emotion near the entrance. As we walk outside, I consider how cheap my prop looks. Looking back, I see that the male regards me with respect, and I consider how devoted an actor he is for seemingly feeling comfortable in such an obviously low-budget movie. For a short time, as I walk near a long colonnade, where many unusual characters (some alien, but most humanoid) are lined up to go into the building in the direction behind me to my left, I consider that I may be too old to be Luke Skywalker (who is supposedly meant to be the young version in this film). Still, the movie is being filmed in real time and I will do what I can. As we walk along, I see what I firstly associate with a “Star Wars” tauntaun running along towards our direction but to our left in an open featureless field. For some reason, I call it an ostrich, mentioning it to the others. It is not like an ostrich however. It looks more like a giant quail. Another one appears, with an unknown female riding it. In the last scene, Big Bird (from “Sesame Street”) appears as a “Star Wars” character. He makes an effort to sit on one of the creatures but I think he might be too big. Still, he manages to sit on it even though it lowers to the ground for a short time, but then seems fine and strong enough to support Big Bird’s weight. I turn to tell the others, “It’s a bird on a bird”. Once again, the preconscious (man at the counter collecting credentials) is not only not confrontational but quite respectful compared to past dreams. Still, this is probably because the flight symbol connection is being initiated (even though Big Bird does not really fly and the giant running quail are at least not implied to here either). Big Bird as my emergent consciousness factor relating to suitably being able to sit on the other bird relates to having deliberately lost weight recently. Cutting the giant jellyfish from around other characters possibly relates to me losing weight as well.
Morning of June 11, 2017. Sunday. My wife Zsuzsanna and our children as we are now are at a carnival, though curiously, a group of people are in our house at one point (mostly in our lounge room) who are apparently waiting to enter another area. I do not see them as imposers and even consider how there are not that many people around. There is the typical ambiguity of the setting being an unlikely essence of indoors and outdoors at the same time, a common factor of my dreams since early childhood. A photographer is present in a few different scenes. He reminds me of Al, the Italian manager of a pawn shop in La Crosse, who I have not seen in nearly twenty-five years. Although some of the photographs he takes seem okay, many are very poorly done, often cutting off the person’s face below the nose. I have the strong impression that the photographs he takes that turn out well are the result of random coincidence. Zsuzsanna and I sit to the right of an unknown family. I sit to Zsuzsanna’s right. I assume the photographer is going to take a few good photographs of the scene. However, when I look at them later, I see that my face is only visible above the mouth and in one photograph, the one I look at the longest, both my eyes are closed. I show Zsuzsanna and relate my opinion of this photographer as not being very good. I notice in the last photograph, my right eye is closed and my left eye is open. The photographer is of course this dream’s personified preconscious. He is not really confrontational here as in many other dreams. The purpose of the personified preconscious is to initiate the waking transition and in some cases, as here, to give evidence that the dreamer is dreaming. The subliminal anticipation of the hypnopompic jerk is only one of several factors in this waking symbolism. The preconscious is more of a biological necessity, though not always personified (for example, is sometimes an animal, sometimes an event or feature of a setting, but always fairly obvious if one understands dreams). The nature of how the preconscious waking factor is rendered, and what character plays the role in a particular dream, sometimes seems completely random. However, looking more deeply, there is usually more than one layer. In this case, the photographer is played by a man who worked at a checkout. A checkout is a form of liminal space waking symbolism. (The analogy is that a person is done shopping and ready to return home as akin to leaving the dream state, or “checking out of the dream state”.) This type of hybrid characterization, though always unique, has occurred in thousands of my dreams, with the same waking symbolism and implications. It is not that common for me as my personified subconscious (temporary fictional dream self) to be The Sleeper. This element is typically projected as something else, even faulty technology. In the last photograph, one of my eyes is open, which is an emergent consciousness factor. (My mouth is not visible in the photographs as I cannot speak coherently while sleeping.) Zsuzsanna and I are oriented in my dream as we are in bed in reality (that is, she is to my left). There seem to be a few types of instinctual dreaming (non-lucid dream control). In addition to the state where the dreamer knows he is making the dream (and yet does not even remember or know what a dream is), there is the state as here, where the dreamer is more passive to events, yet where there is the subliminal knowledge of being asleep but not direct or creating viable lucidity. There is also a sort of halfway point when I am next to Zsuzsanna, my dream attaining real environmental orientation while still within the dream state (more common and sustained in my childhood dreams). Of course, a carnival symbolizes the dream state itself (that is, a place not relevant to the usual day-to-day reality, though my family had been to one recently).
Updated 09-08-2019 at 04:51 PM by 1390
Morning of June 11, 2017. Sunday. I am riding in the back of a taxi. The driver, a dark-haired male in his thirties, is unfamiliar. Zsuzsanna is with me. There also seems to be at least one unknown female present as a passenger. She makes unusual comments as we ride through a mostly unlit area, as if she is uncertain of the intention of the cab driver or where we are going. We go through an odd area between two exterior (presumably) walls in a more isolated part of the unknown city. The walls are irregular (more like rock faces) and seem to have recesses with unknown features, perhaps living creatures, but this never becomes clear. Several different times, the taxi goes up a staircase, similar to the one on Rose Street (but somehow never down one). I do not consider this unusual, even though we somehow are eventually outside and at ground level again, to later ride up another high flight of steps. The last staircase is slightly steeper than the previous but there is never any sense of fear or even wariness. Finally, we get out of the taxi on the second floor of an apartment building, apparently where the driver lives. This does not seem unusual to me. (In fact, my dream self had no backstory memory or any destination in mind at any point.) The driver walks over to an unusual “table” in his kitchen, but which looks more like the walls we saw earlier, and is actually like a large irregular rock (though flat on the top) in the shape of a rectangular prism. The driver exclaims “Oh!” (as if surprised by something unseen) and waves his hand, but there is nothing there. He mentions that a wasp had emerged earlier from the “table” and seems to think that this event is also transpiring presently (though it is not). I do not feel threatened or alarmed in any way and calmly mention to all the others that there is nothing there. In this dream, the preconscious shows me, several times, the “staircase as consciousness shift” factor (here, as implied waking symbolism). Still, there is no discernible change in the waking transition as such (though in contrast to going up, going down steps typically either vivifies my dream or triggers full lucidity). Even more oddly, he pretends the flight symbol (hypnopompic start precursor) is present in the last scene when I do not see it or feel the “return flight” mood at all. (Obviously, I still eventually wake.) It is a general rule that the preconscious becomes more dominant (even aggressive or uncommunicative) over time during a particular sleep cycle. Obviously, this is because waking up is a biological necessity. This did not seem so much like a glitch as a “practice run” inclusive of my usual waking symbolism over the last fifty years.
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