Blue Opossum's Dream Journal

FAKE TIME TRAVEL AMONG THE DEAD MAKES NO SENSE

June 29, 2026. Monday morning.

I enter the time-manipulation state on the typical intuitive level (without pseudo-consciousness, but everything is wrong regarding what the year is supposed to be. I am aware of the current year, yet recall nothing directly about my real life.

Several versions have existed since early childhood, but are different than the "ongoing movie production" dreaming mode. In some cases, I change events and times without dream characters realizing it. In other cases, I explain it to them, typically changing the time to "prove it" to them. Other times, one or more characters are in the old timeframe but aware of their later self without the other characters understanding what has happened until the reveal.

In this case, it is Christmas at a larger version of Marilyn's house. Marilyn (half-sister on my mother's side) and Earl (half-brother on my mother's side) are the most discernible presence. Bob (Marilyn's husband) and his brother Floyd are also present. Unlike other dreaming modes, I am aware they are deceased in real life, but I still mix up the years. (I do not confuse the years in similar modes.)

The first part is creative and amusing. I prove I can manipulate time by opening a can of beans and "jumping back" to before I opened it. (This action does not have a nonsensical "interpretation" but is a literal association with what I had eaten in real life recently, and having actually held the empty cans. The gullible often like to invent a "meaning" for deliberately willed content and literal real-world influences, neither of which makes any sense to anyone of reasonable intelligence.)

I reset my dream several times. Each time, I open the can and pour its contents onto a plate. I "jump back" to when it is either unopened or when the lid is partly open, with the can still full.

In another scene, supposedly 2026, I tell them I will jump back to 2024. The entire environment regarding color and detail instantly changes even though Earl is standing in the same spot. However, he can still hear his voice; what he had said previously in another part of the room. (The voice is the only residual content still present after the change. I am aware that it is like a "recording," though I do not recall it.)

He says "What the f-ck?" a few times (something he never said in real life). At this point, he is wearing a Santa jacket and hat, but lacking additional Santa attributes.

My hand mobility response, as with every sleep cycle, results from the decrease in REM atonia. It typically vivifies and stabilizes a dream segment by increasing awareness of my hands, resulting in an extraordinarily realistic sense of touch. It is most often during the final scene of a dream when liminal awareness grows in the waking stage.

Ambiguous Weapons and more Nonsense

Saturday morning,27 June 2026.

My dream models the Stadcor Street house, but with numerous mistakes. One mistake is that the area across the street is a business district, as in a city. Another error is that there is a tall wooden gate at the end of the walkway to the backyard.

I hear unusual, loud music and look out to see a young man in denim near an unrealistically large portable stereo on the street corner. He has what I first believe is an M16, and I perceive him as a threat. Even so, I do not call out to Zsuzsanna and our two youngest children to stay where they are until I am in the house. He comes up to the front of the house.

When he starts shooting, the scene makes no sense. The "rifle" is mostly through a front window, but that would not be possible in real life because the house sits too high.

The "rifle" is firing small ball bearings into the lounge room. (I do not see the man at this time.) I become annoyed with the idea of having to find them all and pick them up. I hold a wooden popsicle stick midway under the long transparent barrel with a narrow space along the bottom, intending to stop the "shooting," and it feels like the implication of a stick clicking against bicycle spokes as its wheel spins.

The narrative is random, and I jab a different man in the chest from a window on the opposite side of the room. The scene makes no sense because the man is otherwise too far away. I am suddenly at the first window again and notice an investigation (on the ground below) to determine the weapon used. They try to fit an unrealistic "sword" into the injury that has semicircular groups of teeth.

Eventually, I think they will not know it was me, and I try to decide if the man died or not, so I make two versions, one where he died and one where he was not injured badly, before entering the next segment.

The leader (part of the military or paramilitary) comes into the room and places small pieces of plastic here and there, calling it a "weapons plot" regarding the idea that I had been the one who jabbed the man with my Bowie knife, though I say how he is planting fake evidence. Nothing makes any sense at this point.

I am annoyed and use my Bowie knife to jab him and another man in the throat, and they fall backwards onto the ground below. From here, I think about how I will continue this utterly mixed-up narrative. I "reset" it, then let it go. Not a single event flows smoothly into another event.

The Curse

Thursday morning, 25 June 2026.

My dream incorrectly places Zsuzsanna and me in the Cubitis house in Florida, where I have not lived since July 1978. (This is how a dream creates fictitious scenarios to avoid associations with waking life, contrary to the nonsensical concept of "dream interpretation" in most forms. Zsuzsanna and our children, and her relatives, have never been to America.)

The narrative involves Zsuzsanna placing documents and a letter in "our" mailbox on the other side of Highway 17 (in front of Karen and Kenny's house, farther south, where it was in real life). The narrative is illogical because it implies that a woman who does not live in the area will come and get the papers, rather than a mailman, then take them to the courthouse. (My dream again alters real-world logic to avoid real-world associations.)

Soon, Zsuzsanna talks about moving the papers because of concerns that a different person will take them.

The mode instantly shifts and vivifies. The setting now has Zsuzsanna and me living in the King Street mansion in La Crosse, Wisconsin. However, we live in a room I never lived in waking life, even though I lived in three different rooms over the years.

My mother-in-law dramatically calls out, "We already moved them," and walks into the room. She is carrying a framed work of art that is supposedly an Islamic curse. It was left by our mailbox by someone unknown (even though the rest of the setting had completely and instantly changed at this point). It has black letters that feature "Yamin Aran" and a small photo of a woman in a hijab. Two black embroidered strips are part of the curse. It is mostly L-shaped but is also like an altered cross. The background is red.

My mother-in-law throws out her right arm while still holding the framed item in her left, and her hand hits my forehead as she supposedly performs an act that will undo the curse. I vividly feel it. I consider that her fingers hitting me were accidental. At first, I feel a sense of awe but soon realize that there is no such thing as a curse, and I prepare to tell her that I do not believe in anything of that nature, but I wake at this point.

The Pointless Gate

Wednesday morning, 24 June 2026.

Minimal definition is my dream's main attribute. It is an undefined location in daylight, where Zsuzsanna sits at a table outside, yet with an indoor essence that implies the privacy of our lounge room. Indoor-outdoor ambiguity has remained a predominant attribute of my dreams since early childhood. There is an implied fenceline but no fence in most areas. The only stable discernible environmental factor is an area of lawn.

My dream resets a few times under my intuitive will, and I contemplate whether a small man in rags should be carrying a knife as he walks near the fenceline. I do not feel threatened in any way. The mode links to hand mobility in an atypical way. His hands seem fresh and glowing in stark contrast to the other details. I decide not to create him as a knife-wielding man.

A couple of times, I effortlessly pick him up by his belt and throw him over a section of the fence. There is no logic here, as most of the fence is absent. He walks into our area a few times.

At one point, I pick up the isolated gate, which had been lying flat on the ground, to "close" it, which makes no sense because there is no fence on either side linking to it. There is minor difficulty in getting it to stand up to "close" - a ridiculous dream state fallacy that has occurred in similar forms all my life. It is a result of being unable to avoid one's own protoconsciousness and waking processes.

The Shape-Shifting Frog

Tuesday morning, June 16, 2026.

There is minimal physical realism, no discernible or traceable cortical influences, and only an intuitive awareness that I am sleeping, which increases as I achieve liminality.

At first, I find a large frog, similar to the one from the YouTube video "A tiny angry squeaking Frog 🐸 | Super Cute Animals - BBC"

In this segment, my dream self is modelling my ongoing sleeping position, as is often the case.

The AI Magazine (incredible vividness)

Thursday morning, June 11, 2026.

This dream occurs in a mode of hand motions and unusual abstract visuals regarding the supposed AI output. As I have gotten older, many dreams have reached a new level of realism and vividness, despite surreal content in some segments.

I feel comfort and peace throughout my dream. It includes sustained activity of looking through a magazine (with an unknown title, despite the covers of two other issues on a computer screen) with blank sections.

Curiously, the blank rectangular panels, sometimes near the top of a page, sometimes near the bottom that otherwise feature articles, puzzles, and comic strips, have "PLANE" written in the upper-left corner. Throughout my dream, as I turn the pages, I continue to discern "PLANE" clearly. I perceive the word as an opportunity to create a new image each time, simply with a scribble in part of the panel. I do not associate the word with airplanes (though airplanes have been in dreams all my life because of vestibular associations with sleep). I am likely thinking of the word "PANEL" in the back of my mind, as well as the geometrical reference to a surface.

Whenever I make a small scribble inside a panel, an image automatically forms in the area. One scene resembles Mount Rushmore, but with surreal letter patterns. I do the activity about 20 times.

Although animations on paper have occurred in dreams all my life, this one uses the idea of AI generating images on what is conceptually "Smart Paper."

Only the panels that say “PLANE” are able to produce surreal drawings and paintings.

The Gears of Time Ding Too Much

Monday morning, June 15, 2026.

My sleeping mind places me in a real-world foundation relative to 1979, though the associations are completely wrong as usual, and I lack any real-world recall since 1979.

I am in a fictitious room in the King Street mansion on the east side, in the back, on the second floor, where the staircase starts in real life. The dynamics of my dream are atypical. I have no associations with my landlady or other real-world tenants except for Leonard (of whom my dream self does not remember having died in 2016). I become aware of an unknown tenant at the front, on the east side, but never see him directly.

I go into the kitchen (at the west front of the second floor) - an empty, dark room. I have a square clock. I hear a dinging sound as it ticks but I want it to stop dinging. I see that a smaller gear, lower than the other two, which are larger, is the cause. I think of putting a little rod between the top of the small gear, which seems to work - though in reality, would also pause the larger gear it is moving with (but when do dreams ever reflect logic or even common sense?).

I feel a strong tap on my left shoulder. I turn to see Leonard smiling at me. (In real life, he was microcephalic.) I am aware that the other tenants (college students) have similar devices that do not ding.

Incredible Realism, Movement in Darkness, and PRESENCE

Friday morning, June 14, 2026.

This account describes two vivid dream segments, content so vivid that it is beyond words.

The first is a typical vestibular dream with no imagery, but incredibly realistic movement and touch, though curiously as if sped up, creating the impression of quickened time. It was not disorienting but quite bizarre.

Size orientation is precise. I pick up Hailey (who only appears in dance-related dreams) and lift her by the waist and swing her up over my head into the airplane position. The speed is ridiculously rapid despite the enhanced sense of motion and touch. There was a more extreme myoclonic discharge - which caused my whole body to briefly spasm, noticed immediately by Zsuzsanna.

In my other dream, Zsuzsanna is facing me, but there is an indescribable presence I have never experienced before. I feel an energy from her that is somehow instantly within my body. I cannot think of a single real-world comparison.

Another unusual attribute is that her presence ambiguously combines the present with when we first met - including her physical form. (I cannot put this into words.)

Vestibular dreaming, but instead of the usual floating, falling, or spinning, you get hyper‑precise biomechanics and accelerated time perception.

Dance Session (Recurring): Wrist Pivots

Friday morning, June 12, 2026.

Real-world facts: I can pivot my left wrist backward and upward to an atypical 86 degrees (probably due to surgery and separated tendons as a toddler), and my right wrist at a typical 110 degrees. In contrast, Zsuzsanna can pivot her left wrist back to 110 degrees but her right wrist only to 135 degrees (possibly due to bursitis). Note that this is when the upper arm is straight out from the shoulder and the forearm is at 90 degrees inward and forward. The more the hand bends back, the smaller the angle, and the more mobility and vice versa.

Fictitious females: So far, beyond the previous imagined females (including Liberty Anne Coggeshall from Providence, Rhode Island), the current two are Hailey and Victoria (though called Vic) with no discernible middle or last names (so far). Hailey is the youngest. Hailey is Czechoslovakian, while Vic is Russian. Hailey is in leopard print (blouse and skirt) while Vic wears mostly black. The black choker with a small heart-shaped red gem is shared.

The book that Hailey brings is like a magazine made of over 50 pages of onionskin paper. The pages feature a large central image of an "outcome" representing a pose, though in thin outlines of two human bodies (red, female, and blue, male) without much detail, such as faces. At the top is a "step sequence" of 2 to 4 positions to achieve the outcome, with an "exit strategy" of 2 to 4 images at the bottom. Specific angles are indicated, relative to wrist pivots, elbow angles, and other details.

Force is measured using sensors called load cells or force transducers, which convert physical pressure or tension into an electrical signal. When hands push, the force is measured in Newtons or pounds-force using specialized compression sensors or grip dynamometers. Snippets of areas are in small print on the pages by limbs and such. Angles are to be measured with our shadows against a screen.

Hailey is supposedly 1 in 22 million people, while I am supposedly 1 in 8 million regarding attributes such as synesthesia and mobility. (The extreme agility of my left wrist is mentioned in my dream.)

There is a comedic mention of how I used a whip as a boy and developed my right arm to be far stronger - and with more mass - than my left (a real-world event).

There is a joke about doing five outcome sets in ten days, compared to doing ten in five days, which seems extreme and unlikely. The implication is still four hours of practice a day, which does not make sense mathematically.

Ribs are discussed, partly based on the myth about the difference in the number between males and females. It is mentioned that female entities existed long before males, which is supposedly supported by science in contrast to asinine Bible myths. From a literal, creationist perspective where man was designed fully formed from scratch, the presence of non-functional, female-identical anatomy is highly contradictory.

Dance studio (destination - not always completed depending on dream length) is on the fifth floor of "my" residential corner house in La Crosse, Wisconsin. The house location and design were brought into existence (1978) by altering history after a worldwide "rewind." The mansion replaces a larger area of the northwest corner of Wood and Logan streets. This event was caused by AI yet resulted in AI not existing (because Google AI mode, Bing Copilot, Grok, and ChatGPT always get everything wrong and, naturally ceased to exist other than as a futuristic genuine mode with automatic safety functions but without human agenda filters).

It took nearly 3 hours (while working on other things), 60 blocked images, and about 20 failed images to eventually get the correct image in this report.

Dog-Headed Clouds

Thursday morning, June 11, 2026.

It is typical for a dream in this mode to feature two attributes. The first is the recognition of someone in a canoe on a river or similar water-based scene. The second is the appearance of faces in trees, the sky, or elsewhere, typically unrealistic and ill-defined, though sometimes becoming more realistic, as in this case. These types began before I could read or write, a part of my earliest dream accounts in this life.

This type of content follows the pattern of sleep recognition in the sense of water flowing, followed by "visions" and dream state imagination attempting to stabilize, a liminal form of pareidolia, similar to seeing patterns in clouds in real-world scenarios or seeing faces in random objects.

The narrative is atypical. I perceive a Japanese man, though he is:

1) UNSEEN, even though I know he is in a canoe and fishing. 2) In an ambiguous setting, that is, a river inside my house, though in a different room. Much of this segment is an undefined liminal space. 3) The man had become East Indian (still unfamiliar) near the end of my dream.

Other aspects:

4) There is an ambiguous religious association because he is praying in English, possibly a Catholic prayer. (I am not religious in any way in reality.) 5) The white clouds first look like groups of human faces and yet also like many clustered emoticons simultaneously. 6) Eventually, the clouds are paintings of dog heads above a building in La Crosse, Wisconsin, including a German Shepard. 7) There are white clouds forming spirals at one point.

The Walking Christmas Card

Monday morning, June 8, 2026.

Every sleep cycle for 60 years has included at least one clear dream featuring a bed. The natural, consistent pattern underlying this obvious intuitive awareness of being asleep, detached from viable real-world memory and the nature of reality, and without needing the asinine concept of dream interpretation and symbolism in the conventional sense, reveals that a bed in my dream is:

1) Rarely ever in a place where it has been in real life. 2) Often in a place where it would not be possible or at least logical to be. 3) Subject to a dream state placement that rarely occurs more than once.

This example places our bed with its headboard against the north wall and aligned lengthwise against the west wall in our lounge room (living room) in our present home.

Zsuzsanna is sitting up in bed, but I am closer to the foot of our bed. There are several indiscernible objects on the bed, but I focus on a Christmas card.

My dream resets a few times and changes through different modes. The main mode of all sleep cycles is LEG MOBILITY, and an association with attaining the ability to walk based on decreasing R.E.M. atonia. Sometimes this imperative results in a surreal narrative.

The Christmas card is upright and "walks" on its own by rocking from the bottom-left corner to the bottom-right corner. It features several yellow candles atop a Christmas wreath. Even though Zsuzsanna is present and aware of the event, I describe it to her.

Eventually, the card instantly changes in design as I gaze at it. It now features red candles against a blue background. I continue to describe my dream as it occurs, which is typical in this particular state.

In the outcome, I am standing near our front door, intuitively focused on exiting the dream state, an occurrence in multiple dreams each sleep cycle for 60 years. I am still watching Zsuzsanna, but through an array of low-set shelves.

Christmas associations sometimes occur in dreams because of current blissful states from real life and associations with feelings of deep love. Candles are an automatic association with liminal states, such as my "mentally lighting a candle" in undefined liminal space. However, that dynamic occurs without imagery and usually only with digestion issues or incidental sleep apnea in hypnopompic states, which I cannot verify here.

Beautiful Birds, Foxes, and Kangaroos

Monday morning, June 8, 2026.

The setting of my dream mainly presents the dining room and backyard of the Loomis Street house in Wisconsin (unseen since February 1994). However, the couch is from my current address in Australia, and its alignment in my current real-world home occurs in my dream but reversed. To clarify, in real life, the back of our couch is along the division between our dining room (used as a bedroom) and the living room. In contrast, in my dream, the back of it runs along the division between the Loomis Street house's dining room and living room, facing the dining room. Dreams get everything wrong to avoid associations with waking life, but the wrongness is always unique.

Zsuzsanna is on the couch, and our youngest son and daughter are present, but they are much younger. (It is typical for a dream to place my family in an older location - or an ambiguous integration of two or more locations - that they have never been, but an Australian location without me recalling them is extremely rare.)

I focus on beautiful birds that have somehow gotten into the house. Over time, I notice more. I count them, eventually informing Zsuzsanna that there are eight, even though she is close by. The birds are mostly different species, but all of them are multicolored. I pick a couple of them up and plan to put them all outside. They act quite tame. At one point, I attempt to hold five at a time but usually can only hold three together.

I go into the backyard, and it is nighttime. There are more birds. I try to get them to fly away because a couple of foxes put their mouths over them to pick them up and perhaps eat them.

Eventually, the mood shifts, and I see a few kangaroos in the backyard. I notice the neighbor's house (to the south) no longer has a fence except for one short section directly in the back. There is long grass near the fenceline but leaning. I have no recall of the real-world residents. I make comedic gestures and comments in trying to get the kangaroos out of "my" yard - hoping they notice, though I do not see anyone.

In the last scene. I am in the house again, near the couch, and my daughter is crying. My son starts crying. It is because their black guinea pig had died. (We did not have a fully black one, only a black-and-white one named Orbit.)

Around the Bend, page 1 (dream journal supplement)

Sunday morning, June 7, 2026.

"Kinda thirsty, aren't ya?" said the arrogant police officer as only the second can of soda fell into the delivery chute. We were in front of Skogen's IGA store at night in La Crosse, Wisconsin.

"We had a report you were following someone," said the second officer, approaching from the opposite side, as they were cornering me. No one but me had been around, or I would have seen them from the intersection. It was the same lie they used to harass me on the other side of town the previous week, where again, I was the only one around.

"I didn't see anyone. I'm just getting drinks for my sister and my brother-in-law's niece."

"Your sister and your niece?"

"No, my brother-in-law's niece."

"If she's your brother's niece, she's your niece."

"Brother-in-law. We're not related except by marriage."

"You married your niece?"

"I'm not married."

"Do you have some identification?"

"All I have is a photocopy of my Florida birth certificate. Is that okay?"

"It proves you were born," smirked the second officer.

"Do you live around here?" asked the first officer.

"On Loomis Street," I said, nodding slightly in the direction of the house. I tried to remain as still as possible and not give them an excuse to invent more drama.

"I thought you lived on the Southside."

"I do, but I'm visiting my sister."

"And your niece. Is Julie La F~~~~ your niece too?" smirked the first officer.

"Huh? I don't think so."

"You don't know who you're related to? Maybe you should ask around. I'm pretty sure she mentioned your name in the report."

"That was probably the other Butch. Virgil R~~~~~ He has a car, but I don't drive."

"Well, now how many Butches are there then? Is Virgil related to you?"

"No. Maybe my brother-in-law. He's hunted with Julie's dad."

"There've been a lot of break-ins around here," said the second officer, inventing a new reason to keep me standing there.

"Tell me about it. My sister's friend had a lot of stuff stolen from her porch," I explained.

Eating "River Potato" Fossils (Vivid Taste)

Wednesday morning, June 3, 2026.

This dream is of a specific but rare type that creates a vivid narrative of my dream self (at first) spontaneously eating something that should otherwise be inedible. The spontaneity is somewhat ambiguous when I realize the unusual nature of what I am eating, but I sometimes continue my actions. Taste is always vividly increased and is the most present of the other senses.

In my dream, I eat several fossils of the type called "river potatoes" (though known as "Aoxite" in my dream). They are like small black oval stones with a grainy interior, though they are soft enough to eat. Over time, I realize that I may be eating too much.

Their size, shape, and texture remind me somewhat of Pfeffernüsse. The taste reminds me vaguely of the essence of tarmac.

These stones are supposed to be healthy to eat, but I begin to question whether eating many of them would be healthy.

The name "Aoxite," which sounds like a type of fossil, is actually a fashion brand, such as for women's leather jackets.

The Craziest Brownville Girl Dream Ever

Monday morning, June 1, 2026.

My dream self lacks real-world recall (including any associations with real-world identity), past July 1978.

My imagined need to tell Brenda that I will be moving to Wisconsin soon is the main underlying influence, which has no relevance to my current life. I have the impression that I told my mother I would be walking north to Brownville. I do not see my mother in my dream.

I walk north on the opposite side of Highway 17 (now called Cubitis Avenue) from my home. As with many similar dreams, the highway takes on attributes that make it look more like an isolated road.

I reach an area that I first discern as a barrier caused by the front of a house in my path. I do not want to go off to the side because the route is not straight, and I may get lost with the new roads. It is somewhat dark out, but the house changes into two pickup trucks parked back-to-back. An unfamiliar woman tells an unknown man to move his truck so I can walk through the area. Other trucks go forward from each side as I walk through.

I reach Brenda's house and notice there is no tall grass, as there always was in reality. I see toys everywhere, including a tricycle by the steps on the left side of her house. I consider the toys belong to her younger brothers. (She had four younger brothers, including a baby.)

Her mother comes out, and I ask if Brenda is here. Over time, her house's kitchen, soon missing three walls, becomes integrated into her large front yard. (This detail is a common surreal dream mistake.)

Brenda comes out in white pajamas and is grateful to see me. We hug for a few minutes, the most vivid and realistic part. However, she is bald except for a tiny patch of hair on each side of her head. I consider that she had been ill and was having chemotherapy, and I am one of the only people she had seen in weeks.

After this, my dream goes off the rails. She wraps her legs around a table leg and rocks back and forth wildly as if having an uncontrollable fit. The realism drops significantly. Her mother is stirring soup on the same table and cursing about everyone and everything, using "f___" over and over as I also seem to be hearing a television or radio in the distance.

Her mother pours water into a dirty glass ashtray and wants Brenda to drink it. Brenda, sounding somewhat mentally handicapped at this point, complains that there are ashes in it. At this point, my dream is in a completely different mode from the hugging scene. (Dreams sometimes shift through completely different modes, which no one else ever seems to admit to or write about.)

The Shield and the Boar

Monday afternoon, May 25, 2026.

I was ill, but it was my fault. Sometimes, even at my age, I do not know any better than to have beef, pasta, ice cream, and Cheezels in the same evening.

One dream scenario involved me being the guardian of a shield. It is supposedly indestructible. A wild boar follows me, but its goal is to destroy the shield. There does not seem to be a direct threat to my life.

At one point, I walk on the water to be on a Viking longship.

Somehow, the boar gets onto the ship and hits the shield. The shield is distorted and looks like the shape of something that had been melting. It is no longer circular but irregular - with extended "melting shape" areas.

Destroying AI with Joy and Ending Intrusive Deception

Sunday afternoon, May 24, 2026.

My dream places me in Cubitis (unseen since July 1978), but with modern recall.

Over time, although not logical, I see screens of various sizes covering all the environment's background. These screens are displaying various types of contrived, obnoxious advertisements and false information. It is a single wall - yet somehow implies the way the whole world is "blocked" by government propaganda and fake commercial product advertising.

Over time, I complain about the state of the world. I remove parts of the wall and cut into the monitors that are like popper juice boxes at times. I complain that some of the monitors block the sky.

I see how everything projected from another source could not be real at any level. I recall watching YouTube videos and police and other people acting like random cartoon characters, inventing drama, and strange comments by people who did not seem to have ever been alive or understand anything unless received through electrical wiring.