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Morning of September 1, 2013. Sunday.



My family and I go out for a walk, partly to take a look at a supposed “mystery” home relating to a special house of some kind - maybe even a place we will actually live or own. It actually turns out to be on King Street in La Crosse (even though my family here has never been to America) the third (fictional) house from my corner. My actual apartment house is on the corner but that is not the main focus, and every other house and structure is completely different from real life along the entire street (both sides).

East of is a cul-de-sac that is like some sort of open squarish U-shaped kitchen or storage area, the “ends” pointing west. Near the last part of my dream we walk around through it from north to south and I note that I had moved a refrigerator earlier and maybe blocked part of the path on the northwest where people go in from, but no drama ensues even though I notice others (one, an alcoholic) just coming into that side. (The alcoholic is someone I sort of knew in real life on the job years ago but who was not a close friend.)

Earlier in my dream, there is a rather unusual mood. I am not sure about the dynamics of the house or what makes it mysterious. It is some sort of mystery like no other mystery, even in a personal sense. I have had numerous dreams throughout life of odd houses here and there, where piles of old wood take up much of the inside (especially in seemingly very old, long-abandoned two-storey houses whereby someone still seems to live there at times), or with other unusual aspects. This almost seems to be one of those types of dreams, but the house of mystery turns out to be more like a modern low-set brick or concrete home, rather small, reminding me vaguely of my home in Cubitis. We notice piles of rubbish everywhere, in smaller bags, even near the family’s car. It seems perhaps they are moving.

I notice that the license plate on the rear of the car (1970s cream-colored station wagon with simulated wooden panels on the side - a brother-in-law owned one similar to this, but not the same) reads “COCINA 53”, which means kitchen (Spanish) and may relate to my age in a few months. About twenty-five percent of the car is out from the low, attached garage (on the eastern side of the home), facing to the south.

Later, my mother (who died October 2, 2002 at age 86) is with us. We are looking into a large dumpster on the southern part of the street for potential “treasures” as “scavengers”, maybe to find something to sell. The entire bottom of the dumpster (aside from a few randomly-sized empty cardboard boxes) is filled with still unopened and unused plastic packages of a series of recipe booklets, arranged in newer-looking cardboard boxes (as if never distributed from the company), that sell for about ten to twenty dollars or so per week via one of those real-life subscription services - which end up costing thousands of dollars for a recipe book’s worth of material (the same being true of those animal fact sheets and such which also end up costing thousands of dollars by the time the collection is complete - or about $3,600.00 for a three-year collection/subscription, and parts often go missing or there is duplication or printing problems).

I had discovered I had been carrying a bag full of recipes and was going to give them to my mother, but she said she was not interested in any of the set, as there might be printing errors and missing sleeves or booklets or such, so I throw the bag in with the rest. It may be that most of the booklets are all identical or just from one or two weeks of publication. We then move on to the cul-de-sac event mentioned earlier.

Relative to the unusual fictional setting, see also the following dreams:

Hall Kitchens?

Submarine

UPDATE: This turned out to have the usual visually precognitive elements (regarding a movie we saw later - by chance), but nothing important in my opinion. It mostly related to the parked car of a make I haven’t seen very often.

Had one dream in multiple pieces....the power of the snooze button

One piece was a bunch of women being rounded up and shoved into trucks. (something to do with studying women history and the feminist movement? ) I see Gloria Steinem in a wheel chair being pulled up to the bed of a truck. I run to her grab the arms of the chair and roll it to the end of the truck. The chair is already tied in, and I know I am going to get nabbed any second. I tell her that even if I can't help her now I will get help her get out of this. (I think we were in a team in a earlier part of the dream I don't remember).

She leans forward and says "What can you possibly do to help me now?". It seemed like a harsh question, and I was hurt that I was failing her. I decide to read her the license plate number of the truck. I look down but am having trouble deciphering it. (Not enough trouble to get lucid....but you know... - _ -). Surprisingly the numbers do not change after multiple viewings and after a bit I finally get the whole number to her. It was 48484867. I get dragged away.

Second part: I was in some sort of prison that looked more like a dungeon. It was made of green brick and the entire surrounding seemed moist. I was in a wheel chair and was suddenly confused why I needed one. I tell the person I am with that I can walk and that I walk all the time. I go to stand up and my legs feel week. My calves can not support my weight and I become quickly unbalanced catching myself on the chair for support. I am confused as to how this happened (the memories were of myself walking irl, so CLOSE to being lucid DX)

Third part. I am leaving some kind of class and know that I am being forced to go to this one location. My surroundings look like a large scale college campus all made of orange brick with small patches of grass and courtyards. As I approach where I much go I get some kind of vision of what happened their before: An evil man is talking to a girl in a stone chair and he describes to her all the torturers he will present her with ending with impaling her over and over until she can take no more. I see that the only way to stop him is the yell the word "claws" and say a four digit word that has relevance to me. I think I could say 4867 because that was the end of the license plate number. I begin to get frightened as I approach the same location as the vision. I see the chair and the workshop the man walked out of. I walk in not knowing what will happen.

A creature appears made of brown feathers and earth and sleek black claws. I jump, and let her begin walking me backwards toward the chair. She looks at the walk where there is paper with something written in Spanish. She has some kind of reaction to it and I begin to see a human face of a young Mexican girl. I ask her if she is a Mexican girl, she seems to understand what I am saying but does not respond, she continues to guide me to the chair. "Did he do this to you once? Did he make you this?" I ask. She slows her pace and begins to think about what she is, and how she got to be that way. We begin to talk. I am still scared out of my mind because I know that the man will come out when he pleases and I can not leave, but I thought if I could help this girl we could escape together. I think I can use the numbers I saw in my vision to stop him, but who knows if it will really work. We talk and talk until I wake up.