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The earliest scene I recall was of a group of 4 police officers reporting to a scene of another officer about to jump off a tall building. The officers were all walking with one hand on their belts and the other ready to grab their gun. The officer on the building fell off the building head first and died on impact. It looked like he was forced off instead of jumping by choice.

I then recall the police showing up at my door. The house was actually one I lived in about 6 years ago. It was a trailer home with a storage unit. The officer told me I needed to come with them, as there appears to have been a robbery at our location. Another officer stayed with my family to brief them on the situation. I checked our storage unit and sure enough it was broken in and cleaned out. The cop gave me a firearm and a short safety lesson on how to use it. I already have gone through gun safety before, so he wasn't telling me anything I didn't already know. I get in his car and the dream scene shifts to when we get to the location of the suspected robber. It appears to be a walmart parking lot. The first thing I notice is an ambulance with its siren on and lights shining, pulling away from the store entrance and driving away toward a hospital. The police officer tells be to open the trunk and put on a bullet-proof vest. I oblige, and start putting it on. It feels very heavy. Its a pea green vest that is put on like a button-up shirt. The officer notices a big white van that appears to belong to the robber. We start walking toward it, but it drives away before we get to it. The officer gets all dejected and calls the mission failed. The dream ends as he tells me to hand over the gun as the suspect got away.

I get the feeling that I need to record this interesting dream, so I pull out a recorder and repeat what happened into it. I was dictating the dream in a weird middle eastern accent, meanwhile my mother gave me some reading material on lucid dreaming to check out. I wasn't interested in what she gave me as it was more related to dream interpretation. (This whole section is closely related to my waking life. I just bought 4 lucid dreaming books and this is the first night I have decided to record my dreams first on a voice recorder.)

I recall another dream involving a comedian who looked like Morgan Freeman, but sounded like someone completely different. I wish I could recall the voice to say who it sounded like, but that is something that will remain a mystery it seems. He first told a story of a man who was covered in thick reddish-brown hair. It was like an animal with its rough texture. I dunno what point he was trying to make, but he segwayed it into how we need to be more loving and tolerant toward those who look and sound different to us.

I am at the movie theater and it appears empty. The way it was structured was interesting as it was possible to drive inside the theater. So I am driving around and being a new driver I am almost crash in to this woman. I then drove around in till I found a movie I like. I enter inside and everything went quiet and inside was empty. I decided to relax at the top of the theater.

I could hear someone coming up to where I am seated. I was then approach by a man who seemed to be disturbed and likely suffering from some sort of mental illness. He threatens me with a wooden popsicle and demands I leave. I tell him I don't want to be bothered and told him I would go somewhere else. He doesn't like the way I walk from him so he starts to make signs of an attack.

I manage to dodge one of his hits and push him away. He then becomes angry with me and pulls something out of his shirt while further making threats. I assume this to be a gun and began running down the stairs to an exit. It was at this point my awareness had rise enough to become lucid. I open the movie door's as I could hear him take a shot at me. As I am outside I decided to wake up as I have a busy day in waking life to attend to.

Morning of February 2, 2018. Friday.



I find myself in an unknown and unfamiliar location, though as my dream self, I do not think of it as such. Zsuzsanna is present in the majority of scenes, which involve my usage of a raygun in an unusual activity.

At first, only sparks come out. I find myself in an unfamiliar room where an unknown female (of about thirty) sits near a desk. As I aim it upwards at nothing in particular, sparks fly out and one lands on the female’s knee, which apparently hurts. I apologize for this, but when the sparks land on me, they create a pleasant sensation.

In most other scenes, I am outside, though under some sort of shelter with industrial implications of which include a convergence of many different horizontal and vertical pipes. There is a square opening through the ceiling and roof of no more than one foot by one foot. I have an unusual false memory that the moon powers the gun, but I only use it to fire upward. I stand in one area, aiming it through the opening in the ceiling. Over time, the miniature radar dish at the front of the gun starts shining when I hold it upward in a certain position that apparently reflects the moon’s light. I do not actually see the moon at any point.

I perform this act a number of times. It seems to make my dream more vivid each time. I go to a different area that has a smaller opening, hold my gun upward, and move it about until I see the moon shine on the miniature radar dish in a circular fullness and then I pull the trigger. The beam of light that emerges is about an inch in diameter.

There eventually seems to be a vague backstory, based on an emergent false memory, relating to a recent alien invasion, though there is no hint of any impending threat. I aim the gun at another part of the ceiling in the realization that it will destroy the structure. I wake with the perception that I had accomplished the defeat of a supposed alien threat.

Explanatory supplement (Saturday, 3 February 2018): This dream occurs by way of liminal dream control, which means that my dream self is habitually acting out the dynamics of oneironautics (which represents the nature of the dream state, not waking life) without being actively aware that the environment and situation is of the dream state as with conscious-self-based lucidity. This is based on autosymbolic cues from subliminal threads of the conscious self identity. This should be obvious from how my dream self’s actions vivified the dream state even though my dream self’s motive from the outset was not clear. My dream self eventually focused on destroying the alien building. This was the liminal space barrier between my dream self identity and my conscious self identity, the opening in the ceiling being autosymbolism for my dream’s potential exit point back into viable consciousness. (It was somewhat small, which is moot, as the entire building was apparently gone at the waking point.) The miniature radar dish, glowing more over time and producing more energy and a wider beam of light, signified the increase in neural activity as the emergent consciousness implementation.

This invalidates the asinine belief that the conscious self experiences something that must be “interpreted” solely in conscious self terms, incorrectly assumed as “from the subconscious” (rather than correctly understood as RAS mediation between the transient dream self identity and the conscious self identity). It is the dream self that is the subconscious, which is coalesced by way of RAS (Reticular Activating System) into consciousness through the waking transition, which is what a dream is (which most people have no understanding of).

Additionally, Zsuzsanna’s dream showed threads of associations with my dream in the very common but inexplicable (by society’s beliefs) patterns. This is evidence that RAS mediation is transpersonal, and distance does not seem to matter (as this was occurring before I even met Zsuzsanna, and we had grown up on opposite sides of the world).

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1/6/2018
Something about Jack Black driving in a car and racing us/street racing. Cops pull us over and we are in a jungle.Everyone saw a snake wrapping itself around my left lower leg and foot. I shook it off and ran. I remember being in a yard that was sectioned into four parts by wooden privacy (tall) fence. It was kind of like a movie set with four different locations. I was in one of the quadrants and I was holding a gun/rifle/shotgun? (lol i dont know) and trying to shoot at birds.
I got down to the ground and saw a tiny opening in one of the fences and went to it. There was this small duck sound caller thing that a Swan gave me. lol.

Morning of December 12, 2017. Tuesday.



In this dream, there is the transition to water reinduction (water as symbolizing sleep), though my conscious self identity is virtually nonexistent. Even being in the Loomis Street house’s backyard, there is not even the association with my relatives who lived there for years. While in the backyard near the alley (where I have not been in real life since February 1994), there are a number of unfamiliar characters. There is something about going somewhere, another country perhaps, and we start our journey.

The Loomis and Gillette Street area transform into some sort of distorted wharf, which I believe is meant to be with the ocean on the left (even though Wisconsin is nowhere near the ocean in reality). All of the people we meet are dark-skinned and may be Sri Lankan (which I seem to recall being said as such in my dream). They are all males in their twenties, supposedly refugees. It is illegal for us to be there or walk over the wharf to wherever it is we are going. That will apparently not stop us though and our group walks over the long wharf. Still, the other males are very friendly even though they seem slightly confused that we are not like them. I start talking to them in Spanish, “Cuando salga el sol me despertaré”. (“When the sun rises I will wake” - note that I am not viably aware I am dreaming.) I repeat “cuando” several times, as a question. They only shrug and smile.

There is an area where a doorway is too narrow to go through. I do something to where we continue from near the right of it, though it does not make any sense. It seems as if I somehow moved the doorway itself by “sliding” it with my hand.

From here, I am riding in a van, on the front passenger side, on the right (implying America). The driver of this van is riding a motorcycle a car length ahead of the van (which makes no sense at all, but this is how it is experienced).

The port authorities are now following us. Because we had gone through the restricted area that held refugees, we are to be captured and shot, no matter where we decide to go or live. The man on the motorcycle is shot once and splits into several pieces, rolling over the road, the van I am in continuing to apparently drive itself. I do not feel very emotional.

After traveling a long distance, miles away from the Loomis Street house’s backyard, I find myself back on Loomis Street, in the Loomis Street house’s kitchen (likely due to mild hunger in sleep). Of course, this makes no sense either.

I am presumably the last one of my group left. I now have a very vague emergent awareness of relatives having lived on Loomis Street years ago, though no current conscious self identity. An unknown male comes into the kitchen from the south room to shoot me. I decide that this is RAS mediation (even though I am not lucid) and that he is the preconscious factor and thus I shoot him first and then soon wake. I will not tolerate being victimized in my own dream, even when there is no viable thread of current conscious self identity.

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Bad dream recall on Dec 9, nothing I can remember (went out drinking).


On December 10, it started with a really hazy dream, probably mixed in with deep sleep.
Next I was with some mobsters from The Sopranos (they've been showing up in my dreams lately since I'm watching the show -- Chris Moltisanti, Big Pussy Bonpensiero, sometimes Paulie). It's nighttime or early morning, and we're on a bridge.
Cut to underground tunnel hangout. I understand the tunnels to be either under my house or between the bridge and my house (childhood home). They are sewer-like tunnels with ankle/waist deep water and track lighting. All of the sudden we're under siege -- tunnels are being infiltrated -- men are throwing grenades and shooting at us.
Some of our guys made it out, others didn't (there's only one exit). Paulie might have been shot/blown up, I don't clearly remember (I remember a grenade going into the hole of a cinder block and lighting up the tunnel).
Chris and Pussy are around a corner. I (as a disembodied spectator) warn them of the attack. Pussy is sitting, looking off at the ground and shaking (in DJ I wrote "having a hissy fit"). Chris is in a recliner and has earphones in. He takes them off and is visibly ashamed of being distracted, saying something like "I don't know what happens. I just miss these things, big things."

Cut to my childhood home from the front door. The driveway is elongated, and is torn up with caution tape and just dirt w/ dirt piles, like a construction site. Still dark outside. A girl from high school years ago is talking to a guy and is talking like a valley girl. She says "I wish I could listen to a CD song!" Next she's dressed like Catwoman and I'm jumping gracefully (backflipping) like a cat over by them and into the construction site where my dad's car is parked. I get in and turn it on local Christian and pop stations from my childhood.


Next dream -- I am in my hometown walking around warped but similar grassy landscape.
Cut to the inside of a building with some of my WL coworkers. I show them the "remove kebab" meme on a large plasma TV and they laugh and do that Indian head-shake thing, then say jokingly "remove Harish".
Outside again. It's daytime, overcast. The Indians are being genocided for some reason -- I remember being in the backseat of a car with some of them, ducking to avoid someone who's coming to kill us with a handgun.
Cut to warped grassy landscape again, there's crime tape everywhere. I jump over it and walk down a hill. There's a small mini-scene about real estate, maybe an open house? It's a white beach-looking house with no decorations, white walls, wood floors, and a huge sliding glass door opening to the back (the same grassy hill I jumped from).


Next I'm indoors at night (maybe raining outside) in an upscale high-rise apartment with Hermione Granger. There is a white Mac with white & clear plastic on the monitor and keyboard -- there's a red glow around the clear plastic. I'm talking to Hermione as we arrange shoebox-sized features of my gymnasium from high school. As I am trying to place the bleachers, I start questioning Hermione, comparing myself sexually to Harry Potter... I'm just not gonna psychoanalyze that.

Overall they were some interesting and quite vivid dreams, if a little weird.

DJ Log: November 25, 2017 – 5:30AM (USA Eastern)
• NON-DREAM • NOTES • DREAM • LUCID •

I am smoking cigarettes with a couple of friends on a second floor balcony. There is an annoying neighbor standing right at the edge of our property line making threats at us because of the "toxic fumes" that are drifting toward his house from our cigarettes. We ignore him and continue smoking before going back inside.

After several sessions of this harassment at gradually increasing volume levels, we yelled back at him and cussed him out. The neighbor was standing out there with a couple of other people. After we came back into the house and I went downstairs to find that the neighbor had walked up to our house and was trying to open the door. After a couple of tries, the latch gave way and he opened the door. At the instant that he took a step into the house, I pulled my pistol out of its holster and fired a round directly into the center of his head. He immediately began to fall backward, so I ran up and grabbed him by his shirt to pull him inward so that he would fall to the floor inside instead of outside. He fell face-down and appeared to be dead. The other people stood there silently for a moment, then walked away. I yelled at them, "Who's next?"

(Note: This was a rare time that a dream gun functioned correctly. Usually they make noise but no bullet, or they are all jammed up or something else wrong with them so they won't shoot at all. …and smoking cigarettes, YUCK!)

Morning of September 11, 2017. Monday.



I am walking with two unknown males, a situation of which continued from a very long previous dream sequence. I think about robbing a place, but the details are not clear yet. I eventually realize that I am carrying a Glock pistol. Soon, I “realize” that I am a black female of perhaps about twenty-five years old.

It seems late at night. I go into a small trailer park in an open field where a dense forest is to my left. An unknown black female, but of whom is apparently known to the character I presently am, complains about me being there to rob her again (though I do not recall any backstory for this). Other than that, she does not seem alarmed by my gun. She opens a couple drawers in a large chest of drawers in her trailer. There is a bundle of one-hundred-dollar bills in an even stack, partly wrapped in cellophane. There is also a roll of fifty-dollar bills held together with a rubber band. There are also numerous rolls of coins. I tell her to keep some of the money, including the roll of fifties, but she insists that I take all of it. I put everything in two bags. There are several other items besides the American money, including bottles of perfume and shampoo and small items of clothing. I leave the trailer park, walking briskly east. I see a couple others outside of their trailers on my right, one an older black male of about sixty.

Somehow, it is suddenly daylight now, possibly early afternoon. I am with two unknown Caucasian males (though one reminds me vaguely of Don K from the early 1980s). I am seemingly now a male character, though not fully myself and perhaps about twenty years old. We seem to be going west on Sill Street, having gone past Wood Street and possibly Kane Street. I decide to toss my gun on the ground near the intersection near the trunk of a tree so I am not armed if caught (thinking I would be in less trouble). Still, I consider that may not be a good idea as a child might find it. The others and I continue, but eventually turn right to go north. I continue to carry my two bags.

We seem happy until one of the males looks back and sees another male who apparently knows us. It may be that he will cause trouble or at least be annoying if he sees us and catches up with us. The male who recognizes this other male tells us all to go our separate ways. “I have to try to wake him up,” he says in an authoritative tone. He goes across the front lawns of a few houses on the right side of the street and I am still following him, unsure of the situation. He yells with frustration and waves me off, indicating to me not to follow him. The male who had been behind us is apparently sleepwalking. He has long black hair and a long black beard and has on blue jeans but no shoes, socks, or shirt. He starts cheerfully talking to the male that seems to know who he is. “I can’t understand anything you’re saying,” the sleepwalking male is told, “You’re speaking gibberish”.

I continue to go north a short distance, but then turn around to go through a very narrow residential alley back southward. I am slightly concerned that I might annoy people by going through or close to their backyards but I do not see anyone. At the end of the alley are two closed chain-link gates about chest-high, side by side. Each of the two gates is for a different house, which makes no sense, as the alley goes past all houses on the block and the gates are adjacent to the public sidewalk. Before I get to them, I have to climb quickly up over a couple large full garbage bags and some other objects. At first, I think the gates might be locked, but I am able to open them by turning a horizontal L-shaped bolt lock. The detail is very vivid and realistic in appearance (but unlike any setting I had ever seen in real life). The sense of physical momentum and touch is vivid as well.

A few police officers approach me and look in my bags and ask me where I am going. I see that there are a lot of rolls of coins in them. I insist that everything is mine, but they seem condescending. While pretending that I am totally innocent, I am eventually able to get away. One policewoman seems to think I am okay and seems to see me as being victimized by the other officers. However, a chubby male officer seems determined that I will be caught again and found to have robbed someone, or possibly a bank.

I somehow end up going through the second floor of a business building. There are a few times when I fly after getting outside again, but I end up walking again, as my two bags are heavy. I somehow end up back near Sill and Kane and recall how I had deliberately thrown my gun there (at the northeast corner) but I do not see it. It is daylight at this time.

I am now briskly walking south through the north side of La Crosse (except that it looks more like the south side) and it seems to be night once again. I somehow have my gun again without contemplating that I had gotten rid of it. I am the black female character again. I make sure my gun is holstered in the front of my pants and unseen. I am thinking of finding the Loomis Street house to hide out even though that does not make sense as I am supposedly someone else. I vaguely recall that my sister had died but that my brother-in-law may be there (though they had actually moved prior to my sister’s death, though I was living in Australia by that time). I continue to carry the two cloth bags of money and other items, one in each hand. I notice that about eight people are running towards me, though not directly towards me. I think they may have attempted to rob a closed business but none of them are carrying anything. Police cars go by but they curiously do not stop. (The scene of these looters, including their appearance, was very similar to something I did not know about until after this dream and seeing it on the news, so I am considering this part as prescient.)

I cross the street (which may be a distorted version of Loomis Street, though too commercial) to my right and turn right down a very narrow alley with tall commercial buildings on each side. The alley is not wide enough for a car to follow me through and is at least two city blocks long. However, nearing the opening ahead, I see a puff of smoke going past the edge of a building on the left side of the end of the alley at about head level. It is the chubby policeman, who is smoking a cigarette, who had vowed to catch me. I knock him in the head with my heavy bags and knock him over. The police woman, who seems to be on my side, is possibly going to help me escape now.

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The preconscious modelling itself artificially, or mimicking itself, in needing to wake another dream character (instead of me) is about as surreal and unusual as it gets (even stranger than a false awakening where I am writing down or telling someone about my previous dream). The threads of my dream self identity changing a few times (without any focus on that dynamic) is rather odd as well.

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It's been 3/4 of a year since I stopped lucid dreaming, lately I've been making an effort to take it up since I can fit it into my life again. I've made no real attempts, just meditating and going to sleep earlier... But last night I got home late and had one heck of an experience.

Dream - I Died
I'm in a museum with someone else (a friend I think), it's no where I know IRL. I look up and see a huge dome shaped skylight and on either side of the room there are stairs spiraling up. Me and my friend move on to another room where there's a lot of clockwork items behind glass display cases. I look around a bit and see that they're really varied in purposes, I thought at first they were actual clocks but begin to see that they're actually ancient and steam-punk.

(gap in dream/memory)

I'm at my friends place in their living room, it's a small flat with simple furniture but the place has a lot of character (dark goth art and melted candles, looks like a witch's coven). My friend and his gf who live there together have gone somewhere and I'm sitting on the sofa, it's dark and wet outside. The front door bursts open and my friends GF's dad walks in and sees me - he thinks I'm a burglar. (IRL I know he's a gang member and he's the standard 'big dude with a motorbike and leather jacket' type). He's instantly mad and rushes up to me and pulls out a gun - I panic and put my hands up saying "No don't shoot I'm Daniels friend!" but he doesn't hear me. He just screams "What the F*** are you doing here and who the f*** are you!", but he doesn't wait for a reply - his gun fires and shudders my ears. I feel the hole it ripped in my chest, and the blood spilling from it. I'm breathless and in shock, I knew I was going to die. I wake up but I still feel like I'm dying, the memory of being shot was so vivid that I was confused about where I was - am I in hospital? No.. I'm okay. I had to physically check my chest was okay since it seemed so real, I think this is the 3rd death-by-gunshot dream I've had and it's the most vivid one too.

Morning of August 30, 2017. Wednesday.



My dream’s setting is a unique composite as always. (I have never non-lucidly dreamt of the same setting more than once, even in tens of thousands of closely studied and fully mapped non-lucid dreams for over fifty years. This aspect of non-lucid dreams is due to the incidental real-time dynamics of being in non-lucid REM sleep, where reflective cognitive capabilities do not exist as in lucid dreams and even more so in apex lucidity where automatic conscious control of the dream state is achieved.)

The back area of our house is modeled after our present home, (our backyard south of our house), except that the area between the short hallway to the back door and the minimally-rendered kitchen has no dividing layout (and is all an open area). The implied east side of this rendering (assuming our present home) is loosely modeled after the north side of a previous home on Stadcor Street in Brisbane (though the driveway more like the Gellibrand Street apartment in Clayfield), the third-from-last house we lived in. The front of my dream’s house, implied to be oriented northerly, is modeled more accurately after the west area of the Stadcor Street house, which was also the front of that house.

For several minutes, my dream features the recurring event of me taking supposed public money out of a device in our home (that is, a device in our home which is apparently used by the public and the money going elsewhere, which makes no sense from a waking life standpoint, especially as the public would not otherwise have use of our home, the only way to explain this being real-time symbolism related to receiving thoughts from other people via the collective unconscious which was validated long ago from “receiving” from Zsuzsanna long before we met in reality). There is no backstory on what purpose the device serves. It may be some sort of unlikely vending machine (though is too small to serve that purpose). The device is about the length of my hand and looks like a miniature vertically elongated cash register. Zsuzsanna is present and so is Marilyn (older half-sister on my Mother’s side who died in 2014, though I have no memory of her death here and she appears as she was in the 1980s). I make three attempts to get money out. My second and third attempts make no sense as I had already gotten all the coins out in the first attempt, by shaking the device upside-down, yet many more come out on my second and third attempts. The sound of the clinking coins, the movement and momentum of my hands, and the movement of the internal parts of the device are rendered very realistically.

I am eventually aware of a police presence in our backyard. There are at least seven officers standing around on stakeout, though not for us, but a criminal who lives in the area. Still, I am concerned they might see the various coins lying everywhere on the floor. I make a quick attempt to kick sheets of paper and parts of clothes over them. I also slip some into my left pocket. They ask me through the back door if I know a certain man or had seen them and I say no. (I do not recall the name though I know it did not sound familiar.)

At one point, I notice that an unfamiliar female police officer is closest to our house. I also notice that the screen is torn down the middle from the top of the screen door, about three-quarters of the way down. (though we do not have a back screen door in reality.) She pushes it towards me from outside as if to draw more attention to it, almost slapping me in the face with it, but not intentionally. There is an additional partial horizontal tear in the screen (lower down) of less significance and which seems to have already been there for a long time, but this vertical tear was apparently done recently by the authorities, supposedly for my benefit and theirs regarding their stakeout. I find it puzzling but I do not comment. In a short time, my brother-in-law Bob makes his first appearance in this dream (mostly as he appeared in the 1980s). From the left side of the solid wooden back door, he closes it over the screen door (and it closes from the opposite side as in reality). “This door can be closed,” he says cheerfully though informatively. I question if his act is thought out very well, but I do not comment.

In the next scene, I am going to the front of our house. Off to my right, through the windows of the adjoining room I am walking through, the criminal first makes his presence known. He drives rapidly (north based on our present home) over our driveway, the car’s tires loudly crunching and spitting gravel and dust (the driveway of which our present home does not have as such, as it is just a very narrow side yard in reality, though, as mentioned in the second paragraph, this seems based on dynamics of when we lived in Clayfield on Gellibrand Street despite the room being like the one on Stadcor Street, though my dream’s house is at about ground level, unlike in reality for all three locations). This event makes no sense at all, as he is suddenly driving rapidly from our backyard, directly from where several police officers had just been standing. I wonder if they even noticed he was there.

In the front room of our house (which again, is now of the Stadcor Street house) I look out the front windows. Our front doors (screen door and main door) are both open. The criminal has come up our high front steps (despite our house being implied to be low-set a couple minutes previously) and I politely nod “hello” to him through the doorway even though I do not want his imposition. He has a scruffy beard and light red hair. I eventually notice that he is coming in and there are at least two females with him, one pregnant, though otherwise very slim and wearing tight clothes (this character being directly modeled after a contestant on the Australian “Family Feud” game show very recently).

I suddenly change my mind about welcoming him (which is based on a subliminal desire to sleep longer) and now I am not even sure what good the police presence is doing. I boldly tell him to get out. He becomes very angry. I notice that he is carrying some sort of rifle of illogical appearance. Instead of doing anything to me from near the doorway or even approaching me, he leaves the house to go into the street and starts shooting at our house. The noise is very loud and puffs of white smoke (dream state indicator) are floating everywhere like little clouds (this scene partly as a result of real-life environmental noise). I head towards the back of the house, which once again is more like our present home.

As illogically large bullets are now firing through the walls of our house from the front and the back, the female police officer (still near the back door) advises me to get down. I get down on the floor and wake up in the exact same position I had just been in my dream. I then realize that the police officer seemed modeled after an additional young version of Zsuzsanna.

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This dream entry is probably too long to include a full decoding, but I will note a few details. Emergent consciousness and preconscious factors seem to be “after” each other here and I am (as my personified subconscious which again has no reflective cognitive capabilities despite the bizarre but popular disinformation) caught in the middle, which is amusing, but very atypical, though we did watch two episodes of “Cops” just before sleeping (though this is probably also related to news about North Korea, hopefully not prescient). The torn screen of the back door is a known dream state indicator, which represents a growing metaphorical opening that otherwise divides preconscious from emergent consciousness as a “screen”, though this is more about Zsuzsanna’s emergent consciousness “sending” to mine in real time. (As such, I am surprised that I did not become viably lucid, especially at least semi-lucid, though my dream did noticeably vivify past this point.)

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Morning of June 7. 2017. Wednesday.



The first main scene of my dream involves going to a very large unfamiliar post office, though there is the common indoors-outdoors ambiguity. There are a number of rows of post office boxes and drawers, though no interior walls or discernible building features. It seems to be late morning. The sky is overhead; no ceiling implied for the “post office”. It is somewhat like a simple maze in the last part of this scene. I see a group of about six police officers between two rows. In another area, there is an unfamiliar male in black appearing with a gun, though he is not a direct threat to me. Still, I do not want to be near him or the people he aims at from time to time. From an unrealistic distance, I am still able to read a yellow strip of writing below one post office drawer (in about the middle of the feature) that has something to do with needing a special code as well as the key in order to open it. It seems related to a business. I have a curiosity over what might be in the drawers, though I also consider there might not be anything.

Several unknown males join me as I move around the rows of post office boxes to be out of the viewpoint of the man with the gun. He is not after us specifically but I consider that he may not want any witnesses regarding his activity towards others. He does not fire the gun at any point.

Eventually, I leave the area and find myself in an unknown neighborhood. A young version of Zsuzsanna is to my right (though I am seemingly much younger as well, perhaps only about twenty). It is as if we have only been together for a short time. Walking ahead of us and to our left is a thin female with short and curly gray hair. She is unfamiliar and seems at least sixty years of age. She is wearing light-colored slacks and a blouse. She is carrying a large black-and-white cat on her right shoulder (which I assume to be male).

Suddenly, there is some sort of change where Zsuzsanna is now somehow sitting on the lady’s right shoulder and I find myself carrying the large cat near my left shoulder. The old woman somehow caused this because she wants us to have a meal with her at her house and talks to us about this. Her cat was also apparently becoming difficult for her to control, which is why I am now holding it. I am holding it up and out with both hands and it struggles a bit but does not get away.

We reach the area where she lives. She has one neighbor (also an older lady) to our right. The chicken-wire fence is lying on the ground, rolled out to where one must walk on it to get to another gate where there is a small enclosed garden area (which is about the same size in area as our bed and probably a real-time play on “garden bed” as a dream sign). It almost seems like it rolls out automatically (somewhat like an irregular carpet) by the will of the person going to the old woman’s house. I do not really feel like walking on wire mesh, so I hover slightly above it and slowly fly mostly in a vertical position to the enclosed garden area.

Zsuzsanna, being already behind the first gate, is partly lying on her right side on the ground near the right internal corner of the garden fence, holding herself up with her arm. There is soon distorted imagery to where a couple large blades of tall grass partly block my view of her face, but this seems like some sort of “story” related to “Alice in Wonderland”. The old woman talks about a man who tends to her garden, but this becomes like a dream within a dream. The man is also seemingly playing a televised role, dressed as a farmer or a minimal clown as a farmer, but being called a “demon” in describing what he is doing in tending her garden and also having unusual snakes on display to the public. I consider if he feels odd about being called a “demon”, as they do not exist and there is nothing threatening or negative about his persona or activities. He seems to tolerate this in playing a role in a television show. He holds up a couple different snakes that he has cared for. One has a catlike head. The other has a black head on a light brown body but the head of which is like a miniature shark. There are no negative emotions of any kind in seeing this impossible imagery.

Dreams do not really have “interpretations” in the naïve popular usage of the term but they often do have layers of meaning, primarily based on real-time levels of consciousness which may or may not relate more directly to the present conscious self status.

There is a preconscious precursor here. Although he has a gun, it does not create enough of a sense of danger to activate the waking mechanism, which is a major function of dreams (though not the only function as some “experts” claim). The simple maze relates to finding specific threads of my conscious self identity for my temporary fictional dream self to find its way to the waking threshold. The post office probably has two underlying meanings, real-time communication between different levels of the self while not fully awake, and possible links to the collective unconscious (or even collective conscious). It may also relate to precognitive threads with someone the dreamer is not yet in communication with (and may not be for years), something I validated from childhood dreams relating to my “mystery girl” (Zsuzsanna).

The dark cat represents a real-time factor of being asleep (and often represents an aspect of liminal space), as cats are known for sleeping a lot (as well as being active at night when people sleep).

The personified preconscious takes on the form of an older woman carrying her cat. Her giving it to me relates to activating my emergent consciousness precursor. “Beyond the fence” is a metaphor for a shift in consciousness while in the dream state. The first fence is on its side because, in reality, I am lying down (sleeping) instead of being awake and standing up (thus it is a second-level dream sign). I often hover or fly very well and effortlessly in the final stage of a dream and without giving it much thought (which relates to lessening the hypnopompic jerk and waking more softly as it is premonitory of the biological falling sensation). My emergent consciousness (as a projection as the gardener with the snakes in some sort of skewed television role) is illogically called a “demon”, but in a very matter-of-fact sense, with no associations with negativity of any kind. This probably relates to my status of being in a world full of superstitious people who have little or no understanding of the dream state. The imagery, though slightly grotesque (primarily the snake with a black miniature shark head, which is a “less water” factor of which has continuously occurred in my dreams on a day to day basis for over fifty years and is both biological and symbolic on a number of levels) has no effect on my perception or emotions, just as with hypnagogia visuals (though this becomes more of a hypnopompic state). I wake very slowly and softly, with no physical hypnopompic effects.

-1-Something about a gas station and MC. There was an auto food farm that only worked if a player stood right next to it.
-2-A guy was trying to hunt me down with a gun, which was silly because I had teleport pads. I could just teleport to different parts of the city from Kirby Air Ride. I forgot everything else.

There was some man running around the streets of some city with a gun. Police chase him all the time but in the end they were helpless. Later on when it was evening everyone gathered by local store in my home village. The man with gun was there, everyone gathered by the store due to him. People were talking and stuff, but everyone was scared. When the gunman lost his focus I grabbed his gun and pointed it at him. Everyone sat on the ground, somewhat sad. I shouted that they only listened to him because he had a gun, which he used as argument of force to keep them there. The man took another gun, two more people with shotguns appeared. My pistol turned into double barrelled shotgun. One of the gunmen said that all these people don't want me here and that they'll cleanse the streets. I replied that I'll start cleansing them with him, then ran away, found cover and pointed my shotgun at the gunman.

People were on two sides of a body of water; some were terrorists on one side and those on the other side were on three ledges/"shelves" with doorways behind them where people fell. People on the shelves were shot dead and I was on the terrorist side. There were multiple Arabs* there and I was sitting and saying "May God have mercy on all of us" a few times before one of the Arabs got mad, pushed me in the water and threw two grenades after me. I levitated out of the water towards the ceiling and along the styrofoam "ledge border" around the room above the other shelving. I got on the top shelf and tried to exit through the doorway, I found it blocked with cardboard; apparently people fell through that but weren't getting back out as it was narrow. I tried leaving anyway and pushed one way or another but then I pushed to the left and something moved. I kept going, pushing in another direction and saw "camera footage" from the other side where the box was coming out. Something was said of it being an experiment and I managed to free myself, I believe.

Later there was part where I went into a poorly maintained wooden shack in an urban area and there were people outside.

At some point, I think it was in between the two surrounding this paragraph, I was in a video game shop. I saw SNES games. Someone said "SNES is better than NES because SNES looks better" (I guess he/she was talking about the graphics.)

Later, I saw someone getting out of a medical bed, gurney or something else and he raised his hands. There may have been part where he was put in an ambulance earlier.

* Not racist, that's just who they were.

This is the second time I've had this dream. Both times it happens in the last home I lived in with my mom and sister. These dreams happened a bit over a year apart.
The first time:
I come home with someone and we go up stairs from the split entry to the kitchen. We hear a noise down stairs from the garage door when I look towards it a man it coming up the stairs worth a knife. I draw a gun and demand he leaves. He turns and runs. I walk down stairs checking for others. When I step in the garage to search another man runs from the basement room out the front door. The house seamed completely locked up so idk how they got in.

Tonight's dream:
Again I come into the same home with someone. We hear the noise except when we look this time he just runs out the door and doesn't try to attack. I draw my gun and search for the second guy and again he runs out the front door. The house was fully locked up.

I woke up realizing I've had this dream before and questioning my self if it was real the first time because I was remembering such detail of both dreams.