13 May

Night Moves

Night Moves

Morning of May 13, 2018. Sunday.

I find myself in an unfamiliar park at night. Zsuzsanna is present but is only about eighteen years old. My conscious self identity is not extant, though I want to be with Zsuzsanna, though it is implied we have not yet spent time together. Her father is present at one point. There is a cheerful atmosphere. A number of strange events take place with the typical timeline distortions and setting alterations. Part of the park has a cemetery, as has sometimes been the case in dreams since childhood.

At one point, Zsuzsanna is standing near me and something invisible pushes her from her right. I wave my hand to make it visible and it is a tyrannosaurus of a somewhat yellowish color. It is not rendered very realistically and I wave it off.

In one scene, I wave my hands in front of a small audience. The expectation is to cause trees to uproot and to float in the air as well as headstones being lifted from the ground to float in the air. It does not happen right away, which puzzles me (even though I am not lucid), but there is some eventual movement.

In one of the last vivid scenes, I want to be with Zsuzsanna but I am puzzled by having barnacles growing from my left shoulder and upper left arm. I realize that this is not a serious medical condition, but I think it might make me undesirable. The barnacles jut out to about two inches.

In the last sequence, Zsuzsanna is standing near me and about six people, mostly in white with numbers on their tank tops, run toward us, though we are not directly in their path, so they run past us. Soon after this, what I first consider is a wheel rolls toward us. I turn to look behind me as it rolls down the path. It turns to the right and seems to jump and then rolls a short distance into a field before stopping. The scene shifts to where I am on the Barolin Street house’s porch without realizing I had lived here once or remembering that a porch has been common autosymbolism for the waking space of a dream since early childhood.

An unknown male of about twenty is present on the porch (the preconscious). He has a backpack and had been in the marathon. He is also a skydiver. Apparently, the “wheel” that rolled and jumped was his parachute wrapped up in the circular shape and it somehow got away from him. I cheerfully tell him of how it seemed to somehow jump on its own from the side of the road, implying that it might indicate a supernatural “I am” held by the parachute itself, as if it possessed consciousness.

Working at decoding in reverse, the last scene is the very common (once per sleep cycle for over fifty years) vestibular system correlation autosymbolism and personification of the vestibular system factor by way of the preconscious. (This always represents a subliminal anticipation of the return to consciousness due to the nature of the falling start, which is solely biological.)

The barnacle scene is from “Barnacle Bill the Sailor”, a rather ribald song my father used to perform fairly often in public. Still, the lines I laughed at the most as a child were “I’ll come down and let you in,” (sang three times in a falsetto voice), said the fair young maiden. “Well, hurry before I bust the door,” says Barnacle Bill the Sailor. Therefore, I suppose there is a very subtle liminal awareness of doorway autosymbolism as well as the autosymbolic nature of using a staircase (for changing the level of awareness in a dream). Still, there are usually transpersonal influences in levels of unconsciousness closer to waking. In this case, Zsuzsanna had been looking at a pirate outfit for a small teddy bear (which additionally is a dream state indicator), which I had not known about, so there are always intriguing external correlations and synchronicity.

The tyrannosaurus scene is a throwback to childhood dreams where I had liminal dream control and created chase scenes without my dream self fully perceiving the source of the dream events by way of the preconscious (which is how dreams are mainly rendered, not by way of the unconscious, which the dream self does not have viable access to, or so-called subconscious, as the dream self is the subconscious personified, and without much intelligence or memory unless lucid).

The cemetery is often perceived as the factor of the conscious self not being extant in the dream state, the same aspect that creates certain types of ghost autosymbolism.


 

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