Recent DJ Posts

I am in a warm shower, and I dry myself quickly as I remember I have to go to the top. The tower is glass and see through, and I wind round for ages until I reach the top. The top is immensely crowded, and I push my way towards a platform. A few other people, and a guide woman are on it. I get on it just in time, as it suddenly is released from the top of the tower. It floats down, but I cannot tell how high or low it is because of bizarre perspective. I touch down on the grass and...

WBTB

I wander around the beautiful city I described in the previous dream for a very long time. It is godlike and the yellow sun enhances its beauty. Eventually, I see a cafe, and a man walks in and orders an orange juice. I walk in with a friend. However, the only money I can find is stamps. However, I eventually find a dollar note. Suddenly, as I wake up, the scene shifts to a picture of sweet peas flowering, and I wake up.

Morning of December 24, 2014. Wednesday.



My family and I are living in an unknown location which at one point is similar to the house on Stadcor Street but mirror-imaged, yet later seems to be more like the Loomis Street house in the next segment. There is a part where we had apparently been growing beans near the back porch. There is a concern that not all of them had been used in meals. There are seemingly only a few big pods left, but they seem a bit damaged and “too old” and weathered for usage in a proper meal. However, there is also a clearer thought of soon having a lot more bean plants (of different types) growing in the yard (as they are easy to grow).



At one point, my brother Jim appears. I am aware that he had died (in real life, though I am not fully lucid) yet I still approach him cheerfully. At first though, there is an idea that it may be someone else walking away from our house (though I do not recall any prior scene involving him). He appears to be only in his thirties and seems happy when he turns around to see me. He has several old books on computers as well as at least one book about postage stamps (which is mostly about identifying old and rare stamps, it seems). I talk to him about how much computer technology has changed. However, I say a couple things that are not actually true. I say how hard drives are no longer formatted by the end user, but of course in reality they sometimes still are. I also say how directories (folders) are no longer used, which is also not really true. Intending to look through one of the computer books, I instead find myself looking through the book about stamps and mostly notice images of very old stamps (about three or four larger images per page) that each are of mostly one color and are Iranian in appearance - seemingly from the late 1880s and such, but there are a lot of fictional horizontally rectangular ones, including many with mostly just calligraphy art in simple patterns. The overall detail in this part of my dream is very well-rendered. I still find it interesting how the mind can create such precise imagery without distortion.



At one point near the last section of my dream, it seems there is a medical problem present within my family. I also eventually have similar symptoms of speckles of blood in a few locations on my arms and stomach. It turns out to have been caused by a larger swarm of drain flies (a bit bigger than in reality, but not by much), which come in through an open window through the back of the house (the laundry window, in fact). One gets me on the left arm near my elbow. I am annoyed at this point, but actually feel better about the “explanation” of the earlier in-dream symptoms - which are not really related to an internal problem (or the body’s organs or systems) as was originally worriedly thought. In reality, I have rarely seen this type of fly, and they do not actually bite as far as I know (thus apparently do not cause illness at least according to some sources). Also in reality my in-dream concern likely only relates to heat rash, as this is the hottest part of the year in Australia, though it could also be a typical play on “time flies” and time “down the drain” (relative to how quickly the holidays come and go - though I do not really have present negative associations with holidays).

Night of March 2, 2014. Sunday.

I am younger and in a stage of collecting stamps. My sister Marilyn (half-sister on my mother’s side) is alive again in the opening of my dream, but her face is changing back and forth from various unusual colors, somewhat reminiscent of how a series of usually smaller and older foreign stamps has the same face on different postal values but with different colors for each; red, yellow, purple, green, and so on, in various shades. She is at a table in her living room and appears to be having a small meal.

Later, during the more vivid and longer part of my dream, I am not certain of where I am, but I own at least one very large cardboard box full of materials mostly relating to a stamp collection. As I dig deeper down into the box, more and more complete letters and catalog-sized envelopes, most from primarily Eastern Europe, China, and India, are visible (with the stamps still on the original mailings - most of them unopened or resealed perhaps). There is also a smaller stamp album where the stamps (Poland, Hungary, and Romania, I believe - those countries often had the most attractive postage stamps during one time period) are displayed in rows held by thin sheets of transparent plastic in no particular order.

The beauty of the stamps and other variously-colored and textured paper materials is impressive to me. As I go deeper (placing some of the materials on an adjacent table), there are several old but unopened A4 manilla envelopes from India near the bottom with at least seven or eight older India stamps (1940s-1950s) in each upper right corner, some with various types of “scribbling” as cancellation/postal marks and other features. Eventually, I also notice black and white graphic novels, similar to the type of the older Warren publications. I do not understand the plot, though, as the writing is mostly all in Sanskrit, although some like a mix of Hindi and Chinese, with only a few English translations written by hand here and there. I feel very peaceful and happy about the box for some reason. There are a few other unknown characters around. I am proud of my collection and enjoying the multicolored pleasures of what almost seems to hold endless potential.

There are a few other pages of comic-book-like papers, seemingly in English, but the individual letters are spread out somewhat web-like and too “blurry” to read (much like ghost frequencies on a spectrograph in appearance). (This part was precognitive. I just recently found a link on the “Wayback Machine” that had a lot of older comic books in PDF format. Most of them are readable, it seems. Some of them, though, were identical in appearance to the effect in this dream, probably from being saved in too low a resolution and unreadable. Also, many turned out to be older Warren publications as my dream implied - I had not used the site in that particular manner or purpose at any earlier time.)

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Part of this is also based on real life. Years ago, as a young teen, I sometimes bought a larger bulk pack of discarded postal materials, usually envelopes and such with the stamps still on them in various conditions - of which I actually preferred to isolating and collecting the individual stamps themselves regardless of the fair amount of space they took up (I even had chests-of-drawers sitting atop other chests-of-drawers for extra storage space). The envelopes were of various colors and intriguing textures and all the various addresses in different languages still on the envelopes and used postcards and such. During this time, I decided to give one of my favorites, an unusual envelope (with several stamps, a few still in blocks) from India with a sort of almost corrugated-like texture and writing all over it, to my sister Marilyn by mailing it to her (Florida to Wisconsin). She liked getting it and asked me where I got it. Apparently they did not have these bulk collections available where she lived at the time. Eventually, I sold a part of my collection for only a hundred dollars when I needed more money (by which in afterthought I should have sold to a collector instead of a company).

Finishing this entry for the online version, I noted this from a website (linns.com, under “Soaker’s remorse”.) “How many interesting, valuable or historically significant old folded letters or envelopes with stamps and postmarks (known as "covers” to stamp collectors) do you suppose have been destroyed by people who did not know what they were doing?“

Interesting. Another play on "everyman” (or “normal” society) I think.

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9:00 A.M. A Full Day

I was at work, though not my work IWL. It was a new job I think. It's fuzzy, but I think I had enough experience in the field to be coming in higher than ground floor.

I ended up going out to get some stamps. I asked the lady how much it would be to get forever stamps. She said it would be extra. I told her that that really isn't fair because I am paying for a product today--

She interrupted me and wouldn't help me anymore saying that I was making a scene or something. I looked and saw another customer. I went and said in a low voice that she could have just said that I needed to wait a moment to talk to her about it, so she could help the next person, and then we could finish...and I could finish.

She said, "OK, go wait over there then." I looked down, I had my stamps and my change on the counter, though I hadn't paid the lady.

My change was in Eisenhower dollars, silver halves, silver quarters, and the like. I was so excited, and I thought I'd recognized this change from somewhere. I dreamed of it because I recently saw some coins at a pawn shop.

I put the change in my pocket and decided I would pay for the stamps later, though I was nervous about showing her the change she'd given so that she would know how much I owed her. I didn't want her to see the valuable change she'd given me.

I went over to a table to wait for the lady and started to look at my coins, but now I had so many coats and bags that I was carrying, I didn't know how I was going to carry everything out of the "Post Office / Bank" place I was in.

I soon started collecting all my stuff to leave just so I could figure out exactly how I would get it all together. As I left, I found two baseballs. One had deep grooves as though a bear had clawed through it. I put my fingers in the grooves. It was from where a real pitcher had pitched a certain type of pitch and it made those grooves.

The other baseball was blue and green and more of a toy ball. I bounced it and had a hard time catching it. I then saw my surroundings very clearly to see where I was going home. I was cutting through someones land on a public road. They had workers spreading mulch all around trees. they had one machine spreading and another pushing it neatly along a path.

I walked on to get back to wherever I was going. I ended up cutting through a public pool. I had some big balloon type things I was carrying now. I had about five of them.

I started talking to some of the people, then jumped in the pool. I put one or two of these giant, awkward balloon things in my trunks, and asked if a girl could help me stuff the others in my trunks so I wouldn't have to hold them. I also wanted her to stuff her hands down my trunks, but I didn't say anything about that.

As one or maybe two of the girls were going to help me, I saw a third girl. I told her she was cute, and then went with the two girls who were going to help me.

I don't remember the transition, but I started seeing all these people's faces. I went over to a cute girl and realized I was dreaming.

I quickly found a girl that I thought was cute and went to kiss her. She said, "What?" I said, "I'm dreaming, aren't I?" I did a reality check so that I didn't make a huge mistake. I was happy to see too many fingers, didn't bother to count them all, and went in to kiss this girl. She didn't question it this time.

For some reason that was done and I looked for another girl. I found the cutest one I could find and leaned in to kiss her. This was great. I started trying to make it with her. I held her close and kissed her well.

Then some guy came up to me to fight me because of what I was doing. Stupid me lets him interrupt my dream. At first, I went to hit him. I thought it would be fun, but I had quicksand punches. FUCK!

I tried again with no luck. Now I was trying to get my shirt off and I couldn't. This sucked. I eventually ended up in another scene. I was getting cake for some reason, but I was giving mine to pretty girls. I gave some to this girl, but then implied that I get to hug her for giving it to her. I held her close with her breasts in my face. I didn't want to let go.

I then had more to do about the cake. I found another piece and gave it to the girl who let me hug her and hugged her some more. Then I was finding cake that wasn't mine and it was a bunch of blah blah blah.

The end.

~

10:45 AM Driving in a Half Time Parade

I was told that either a friend from work K.K. could drive a tram at the Football game. I raised my hand and was chosen. I was given a beer and the keys (?). I drank the beer. It was pretty good for a dream beer. Then I took the keys and got in the driver's seat. I was next to a pretty girl.

I looked up and the tram was already moving. At first I was afraid as though I had not been responsible and gotten in the driver's seat right away. I started to drive, and thought it wasn't even on. I had the keys, but there were keys in the ignition, and I couldn't tell if the ignition was on.

Someone questioned me, so I turned it over. OK, now we're rolling. I needed to turn the heater on or off, but I couldn't figure out where the button was. I started pushing lots of buttons, but they weren't normal buttons. They were all close to each other and they weren't the right shape.

Someone asked about it so I handed them some book. I said, "Here, find it." I wanted to know where the heater button was and where I was going. The person asked me again and I said, "You find it." They got it then.

I asked if we should take the highway West, then corrected myself to East. I was feeling really drunk from the beer. I couldn't believe I was driving.

The girl was looking at the book. Our cheeks were touching. Then she took the book and started looking up the directions.

The End.

I found myself sitting at a dark, wood table. The table was large, covered in stacks of paper and manila folders, and a phone that just wouldn't stop ringing. I was dressed in a dark blue business suit with a tie, and my hair was slicked back. The room I was in was very large, and apart from the table, it had a fish tank, filled with exotic fish against one wall, a couch with several smaller tables in front of it, and several white tiger-skin rugs are placed across the floor in strategic locations. Behind me is a giant window, which takes up the entirety of the back wall. From the window I can see that it is early afternoon outside, and that the building I am in is a relatively large one in comparison to the rest of the city--which goes about its hustle and bustle as you would expect.

I begin mechanically sliding a piece of paper from the stacks, one at a time, and stamping it with a large rubber stamp. It leaves a big red "APPROVED" mark on the paper, at which point, I toss it into a box behind me. This stamping goes on for quite some time, until I get about halfway done.

At this point, three people enter the room from the elevator access on the far wall. One of them is the woman in red, this time dressed in a her own business suit and skirt, the other is an old man with eye brows so long that they touch his shoulders, and the other is my best friend, who is carrying a large whiteboard. After setting herself up, she begins to draw many diagrams, and explain something which I can't quite recall. The woman in red and the old man occasionally pass me pieces of paper to stamp and sign while this is going on.

Eventually, my friend suddenly stops and demands that I answer the phone. I bark at her to remind her who is in charge, but I answer the phone anyway. As soon as I put it to my ear, I wake up

Night of November 25, 1978. Saturday.



I am back in the living room in Cubitis, seemingly very late at night, at a table near the northeast corner near where the chimney my father had built was in real life. There is an older cigar box with about twenty or more stamps at the bottom, near one corner. The cover of the cigar box actually looks more like the back of an American one dollar bill, with the eye above the pyramid part, except that it has a sort of sepia and orange tint instead of being greenish.

Marilyn and Carol (two of my half-sisters on my mother’s side) are in the room. There seems to be an unusual energy, almost like a “dark force” or suggested evil presence. The stamps rise in the air and hover above the bottom of the cigar box and there is a slightly uncomfortable sense of our home now being haunted (although I was no longer living there in real life).

Looking at this dream record now on Monday, 18 January 2016, it seems very straightforward and easy to interpret. A box or container in a dream symbolically represents the non-lucid dream self’s attempt to quantize the dream (or dream state) - in other words, to “contain” and define the level of awareness or “world” the dream self finds itself in. In this case the box contains haunted stamps as stamps represent communications “between two selves” (yet within the same container). Each stamp is a (incomplete) two-dimensional form of conscious thought potential (or the essence of the waking self as different from both the fully conscious self and the dream self incarnation). This - the flat stamps and static imagery of each stamp - is with regard to the “other-dimensional” nature of dreams. Many of the stamps feature human head profiles, giving more evidence to this concept. The eye above the pyramid symbol represents the full conscious self (or perhaps even the Source). In fact, most “haunting” dreams seem to be subtle links between the conscious self and the dream self while in the dream state. This is a little similar to my lifelong recurring dream scenario (since around age twelve) of being worried about someone finding a human skull hidden in a box of books under my bed or buried.