Blue_Opossum

Morning of November 17, 2014. Monday.



My family and I have apparently partly moved into what seems to be the second floor of a large apartment building. However, this does not seem to be final, as it seems we still need to be “approved” again as a final step (which does not really make sense as we are already living there and had been for perhaps a week). There seem to be two unknown women who own the building.

I am in the main living room but there are also strange visitors from other apartments with us for some reason. One of them is the infamous YouTube conspiracy theorist VH from Kentucky. Another seems to be the heavyset male who makes a brief appearance in “The Butterfly Room” when he shouts up at whom he thinks is the tenant. Another may be the delusional alcoholic I knew in La Crosse who was always talking about prairie dogs coming out of mirrors. A couple others are also very unusual characters, but unfamiliar.

Interestingly, I seem to be okay with these people for a time. However, VH eventually starts playing around with a cigarette lighter to “illustrate” some sort of point he is trying to make about something. I grab him and the lighter. I press his face down near the corner of a bed and have control of where the fire from the lighter goes. I am, using telekinesis, spreading the fire over VH’s face and upper body while yelling at him - but it does not kill him and I am able to not only stop other things from burning up completely (such as the bed sheet) but also restore it as the fire moves across it each time. No larger fire occurs and the flames do not get out of my control. The precision with which I control it is quite interesting though I am not lucid. Finally, I just tell everyone to leave and never come back.

Around this time, the owners come in. They do not seem to appreciate the ruckus I caused. I ask her if she knows who VH is and soon tell her about him. It still seems we will be living there. We look at an empty room that has new, attractive veneer everywhere, including areas of the wall and on tall cabinets. It almost seems as if I had done this recently (though I do not remember doing so), as the woman does not seem to know about it, though it remains a mystery.

She asks me if I will be okay with the noise in living here, indicating that people come and go and walk through the main halls at all hours of the day and night. I tell her how I am used to living in such buildings (which is not true at all - I only lived in a smaller apartment building over a tavern around the age of five, not counting the usually quiet residential boarding house as a young adult). I think about people making noise in the hall and slamming doors in the middle of the night, but this is the only place available at the time, apparently, so I accept the situation.

In reality, I had never “flamed“ VH on YouTube as many others have, though I have not seen any of his videos in a long time. I am mostly learning to ignore people on the Internet with Narcissistic Personality Disorder, regardless of how abusive these people are and their continuous need to manufacture drama while playing the victim.

Morning of June 27, 2013. Thursday.



In my dream, I was shopping for food, a not uncommon recurring scene, probably because I do a lot of food shopping for my family in real life. There is almost always something unusual about the food or about my money (such as being printed on only one side though realistic otherwise, or being Monopoly game money, or foreign).

I had selected some supposedly good meat at a store that had opened just recently (or reopened after a long closure - as a few have since the floods here in real life). The cut is unusual, like a very thick and more rounded steak and I have two of them. The manager is there and he is making a claim about how good their food is. There are also two other pieces of meat, perhaps chicken, or a different, smaller cut of beef or pork - and I remember that I had some other items, including cheese or something processed and in a small cardboard container. I soon understand that I had forgotten to wrap the meat pieces up myself prior to purchase as the manager makes a note of it, similar to how a shopper bags his own fruits and vegetables in many cases.

The meat itself looks very strange (although the bone and outside area is seemingly normal), like a sort of transparent and soft pink jelly, although it actually seems more like watermelon, but is still “seen” as “meat”. I can see a total of four cigarettes inside farther down, two in each cut of “steak”. There is this strange idea that they somehow got into the food when it was being processed or “made” (although the idea is pointless, as the meat would be otherwise solid in real life - unless it is a “fake steak” made of various bits of meat). Although these cigarettes are new and unsmoked and encased in the jelly-like meat, I still get the sickly impression of dirty cigarette butts, ashes, and dirty water and chemicals (and people of ill health having touched my supposedly “fresh” food) and a growing disgust at having almost bought this awful “second-hand” or “used” food.

Another shopper, a female of about thirty, is looking at the meat in awe, seemingly being surprised by such a thing being in a store and for sale. As we look down, one of the cigarettes encased inside the pink “meat jelly” somehow lights itself rather brightly and dramatically (with no oxygen yet, although reminding me somewhat of a sparkler, as sparks seem to fly out from the cigarette as well, even when inside the “meat jelly”) and parts of the steak explode from the side, but no one is hurt. Another one does that as well. For some reason, as the cigarettes light themselves and explode and mostly burn up, the more sickening feeling I had lessens just a little, but I still make a mental note not to shop here again and leave everything else here as well without buying anything.

I have not been near a smoker (other than occasionally in public settings around people I do not know) in over twenty years. Neither of my parents nor friends smoked as I was growing up. Also, I rarely eat steak on its own, as I have always found it (even as a child) akin to trying to chew on a shoe. I do eat beef and all meat in other forms, but not nearly as much as other people. Perhaps this is some sort of play on “smoked” meat for whatever reason or more likely, implying that eating a lot of red meat is as unhealthy as smoking.

I have included the “dream journal synchronicity” tag because of this entry which appeared right after mine but with a date just prior to mine: WATERMELON