Blue_Opossum

Morning of August 3, 2018. Friday.

Reading time: 2 min 37 sec. Readability score: 75.



I find myself in a big, unfamiliar library that is part of a school building. It is seemingly the end of a school day. A female is present. She may be a teacher. It seems that most people have left. I am asked to clean up, as no one else is going to. I go through the aisles to pick up blankets and bed sheets (without questioning why these items would be “left behind” in a library). I also find a few towels. There are also several pairs of gloves, one pair that I believe is mine, so I put them on. There is also a winter jacket. From here, I decide that I will fly to the north side of La Crosse.

I am soon at the Loomis Street house. My brother-in-law Bob seems happy. He appears as he did in the 1980s. A boy is present that is theirs. I falsely remember that they had a child of about eight years old. Bob tells me that another boy was born recently. I ask him whose child this is, as my older sister Marilyn had died. It turns out that she was brought back to life by a business that offers this service. She comes into the house and seems as she was in the 1960s.

The house now seems like an ambiguous mix of the Loomis Street house (in America) and the Gellibrand Street apartment in Australia. A bed is in a similar orientation as it was in the Gellibrand Street place, where we lived when our oldest son was a baby.

Marilyn seems happy. The baby is on the bed and has a strange appearance, a big head, and a thin, wiry body. It is only a few days old. It is speaking coherently with a curious metallic echoing. The words are soft. I do not recall what he said.

I ask about Cindy, my brother Earl’s wife. She was brought back as well. Bob says that she has “a hundred years left (to live).” Curiously, I have no memory of Earl (who had also died in real life).

Later, Marilyn and I are talking about all the puzzle books she had given me, mostly from the 1950s, 1960s, and 1970s, the majority of them Dell. (This was a real-life event.) They were in a big cardboard box. We talk cheerfully about difficult cryptic crossword puzzles. The harder ones are left for me to solve.

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My dream self recalls that Marilyn had died, but also with the false memory she had one child that would now be about eight (though she would be far too old for this to be true). I remember my sister-in-law, but not my brother. I do not recall my current life status, yet the Loomis Street house (America) mixes with where Zsuzsanna and I lived years ago, which means a part of my conscious self identity is subliminally present. Dreams are a fascinating comedy of errors sometimes.

The last part (waking process rather than dream revivification) is from a trigger I developed in childhood, to make a dream more vivid and coherent by giving myself reading tasks or focusing on books or writing (though I also used coins for this), though now I mostly use computer associations. (An odd result of that is how computer technology is often on notebook paper in my dreams.) The association with solving puzzles also directly relates to the middle of the waking process, between the fictitious dream self and emerging consciousness identity.

The library trigger “failed,” but still displayed dream state indicators (bed sheets and blankets in the aisles), though the usual vestibular system correlation (flying in this case) was present. I put on gloves to mask my conscious self identity and physicality. It shows that I was in non-lucid control of my dream (as is most often the case) but with odd results and the usual dream state amnesia when non-lucid.

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