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Morning of November 3, 2018. Saturday.

Dream #: 18,947-02. Reading time (optimized): 2 min.



I enter my dream in a very unusual way for a morning dream. The process is so slow that I am hardly aware of the distinction between my waking thoughts and the dreamscape slowly coming into existence. (This usually only occurs in the first stage of a sleep cycle.) My conscious self identity remains fully aware. I walk into an isolated area that looks like a construction site with minimal detail.

I decide to find Zsuzsanna (even though she is physically close to me in reality). There is a trailer home oriented lengthwise in the middle of a dirt road. I walk around to the other side, deciding that she will be in it. The door is too small for me to go into the structure, so I mentally will the whole wall to vanish.

After she comes out, I stand with Zsuzsanna, kissing her. My state of apex lucidity is slightly glitchy. Although it is otherwise very realistic, her face glows at times and seems transparent. There is a curious quivering effect.

Later, I start to throw knives at random unknown people whom I see as intruding into my dream space. They mostly go into chests and sometimes heads. There is no blood or gore.

I eventually reach a point where the setting solidifies to where I am looking at a window screen (liminal space divider). It now seems to be dark out. I cannot believe how perfect and even the screen is. It defies my imagination with its evenness and perfections and remains stable until I wake. I try to create a monster to come up (to whatever building I am in) from the other side of the screen - to press its face against it.

I imagine an ugly gargoyle coming up to the screen from the darkness outside. There is no change in the window or the screen’s detail. The screen remains perfect, and no monster ever appears. I get annoyed, trying to force my imagination as much as I can to come up with the ugliest monster possible, and start growling loudly to encourage the process. Nothing happens. I continue to make loud growling sounds while anticipating the appearance of a horrifying creature. Nothing appears. I realize my conscious self identity is too integrated within the dream state to allow something implausible to manifest at this point. If I were less lucid, I would probably have more dream control. A window screen represents the essence of the preconscious function (reticular activating system), so ultimately it is pointless to bring something imaginary from the other side of it. I have absentmindedly attempted this in many past dreams without success.

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The part with the knives seemingly stems from Zsuzsanna looking at a Deadpool knife block recently, but she had not told me about it. (They were in his head.) At least one dream per sleep cycle is telepathic (for lack of a better word), often with more precise detail depending on the nature of the feature or event.

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Morning of September 28, 2017. Thursday.



I am in a state of semi-lucidity, slowly becoming aware that our bedroom is transmuting into the northeast bedroom of the Loomis Street house (a place I have not been in real life for over twenty years and unlikely to ever be again). I eventually focus upon the essence of sleep, which in the dream state, is symbolized by water and recognized as such (and has been for over fifty years on a day to day basis). Water begins to flow down Loomis Street from the north. It is a flood, but not a threatening flood. I feel very relaxed and peaceful. I vividly feel small splashes of water reaching me through the window screen, which vivifies my level of dream state awareness.

There is some sort of unusual ambiguous imagery just outside the window. It relates to a child in pajamas holding a teddy bear, but is viewed through the screen as an undersized silhouette. Conscious self identity threads are lessened and I am no longer lucid in any way regardless of the increase in vividness. I have no major concern about flood waters flowing into the house, only that some of my dream journals might become damp.

I wander off to the west bedroom where my mother (July 14, 1916-October 2, 2002) is sitting on her bed. In this dream, at this point, I have no memory at all of my older sister Marilyn (April 25, 1942-Februay 13, 2014) whose house it mainly was.

“Someone left the floodgates open,” I tell my mother somewhat absentmindedly (forgetting that it was me who initiated and released this dream’s content and continuity with deliberate water induction and the original focus on release and blissful relaxation). Although it seemed late at night seconds previously, it now seems to be afternoon as I notice daylight through the window of her room. However, the area beyond the backyard and alley is completely different than in reality as there is no shed visible and no residential homes. All that is visible are some commercial buildings in the distance, about two blocks away.

My mother makes some sort of comment about access to the store being blocked by flood waters, and there is some sort of vague association with the checkout of a store (a common end marker of the dream state for me). Upon having this semi-lucid thought, and remembering more about my present conscious self and the fact that I am married and have children, I slowly fade from the dream state with soft (semi-lucid) intent and a very soft awakening.

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Water, including non-threatening floods as a dream state induction factor, has occurred continuously all my life, long before virtually endless meditation and relaxation recordings utilized the sound of water to bring about relaxation or sleep. I will hear or otherwise perceive water as soon as I enter into a more relaxed state with less emotions present. Water as the primary symbol for sleep (and sleep dynamics in real time) is also analogous to how people spend the first months of their existence sleeping in the waters of the womb. As a result, it is probably my most common dream foundation marker.

My mother has, in more recent dreams, become more of a dream state end marker loosely associated with my wife Zsuzsanna than more direct associations with her as in the past. This is evidenced by her mainly appearing in the last scene of a dream where she is sitting on her bed (residual recall of having fallen asleep). Although Zsuzsanna appears in many of my dreams (where more of my present conscious self identity remains at least partially intact), the association with her also being a mother has, over time, altered dream state markers in some cases. However, despite Zsuzsanna having been a mother for a number of years, this symbolic transfer and marker integration is fairly recent (probably because she is now nearer my mother’s age when I was born). Being more of an emergent consciousness precursor than a preconscious factor, there is no conflict in such dreams, especially in already subliminally acknowledging this waking mechanism. (My mother was the one who usually woke me up throughout my childhood.)

Both watching the non-threatening flood waters flow and the silhouette of the boy in pajamas with the teddy bear represent the same thing…sleep, so this is a type of parallel symbolism that my dreams often render. (Someone being in pajamas was far less of an initiation factor even in early childhood, even being a fan of “Little Nemo”, though other dream state indicators such as beds and pillows are quite common.)

Even though a shadow of a person or a silhouette represents the lesser presence of my conscious self identity, it is slightly puzzling here as viewed through a window screen. This is because focus on a window screen has been validated to relate to some form of transpersonal communication or shared dreaming. Ordinarily, at least in lucid dreams, I sometimes indulge in “shadow play”; that is, I “test” the shadow to verify that it is actually my conscious self identity and it always is, even in a dream where it was very far away and standing on a bridge.

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